#Once again I stole some of this from Runaway Train but why not she's the same reader character

[smolbeandrabbles]

Spera - Elias x Reader (Trespass)

Direct Follow Up To: Veritas GIF Credit: X

@wltz-bby​ @happyskywhale​ 

Author’s Note: *Story Time* Ha-! I went on holiday in September and there were a bunch of DVDs at the holiday home and no word of a lie, this was one of them and my parents wanted to see it. So, I kinda wanted to continue things from ‘Veritas’... and watching it again got me inspired (and I got to notice a bunch more stuff!) 

I was going to call this ‘What She Wants Tonight’ ... but then I decided to keep the Latin theme.

So you get Elias back-! 🎉

What She Wants Tonight - Luke Bryan  (Because of course it’s Luke Bryan)

Disclaimer: Trespass & associated characters not mine / gif not mine / lyrics not mine. / Call backs to Veritas / Kyle Sullivan (Guns for Hire) gets another name drop.

Premise: You hadn’t expected him to call you, of course. But then you didn’t think you’d expected to see him again either. On this mission you must work together. But it’s clear that that’s not your only objective...

Words: 7171

Warnings: Swearing / Sexual Pre-Amble / I really can’t write action scenes.

_____ She walks up, velvet rope unhooks She snaps her fingers and a drink comes She locks you down with just one look She's got this whole club undone If she's on the rebound, you ain't gonna know it Coming off a heartbreak, she ain't gonna show it She's eyes caught, red dot, locked on me, yeah She wants my hands on her body She wants to burn like she's made of fire Said she ain't going home 'til we Drink every drop of Kentucky dry Don't even know what she'll do when she does it Palm of her hand, I'm hers in the blink of an eye She don't take no and I love She gets what she wants And I get to be what she wants tonight I get to be what she wants tonight I get to catch all her secrets Sequins bouncing off flashing lights If she wants it, then we're leaving Get me home, park the truck, cut the tires I get to be where she goes when she's lonely The last door of the night she's closing Oh, I know she could have anything, but And I don't know how I got to be The only thing she needs right now

---

To anyone who wasn’t aware, the building could have been a normal office block, the people going in and out certainly appeared to be normal office workers. A few of them were – in order to hide their organization, the first few levels of this building had been rented to businesses, but the rest of the block belonged to the Agency.

You stepped gently into the elevator and swiped your access card, pushing the elevator button for your floor you stood back against the mirrored walls and waited to ascend.  Of course, by the time you were to the floor, Joel was already busy running around gathering papers and talking loudly on phones… it was clear that you wouldn’t be here long, they would have you out the door as quick as they had you in. Joel was a little like a personal assistant. Although an ‘assassin’ in his own right he was more on the level of office worker casual, than your higher ranking. He was not your partner - although you did use him as such on occasion - and you were not his mentor, he had been taught the basics by others but that’s as far as he got. He was your go between, only top clients saw you face to face (and were always surprised that you was a woman) everyone else went through Joel, he arranged your payments and sent off your confirmation… sometimes he helped on intel, or clean up detail, but he also arranged transport and set things between your Superior and yourself. He managed to offer you a quick nod as he rushed around, which you gratefully returned… you ascended a flight of steps and knocked on the door.

“Come in.” You entered. “Y/N. Quick as ever to the call I see.” “There isn’t often a time when I cannot get here. I’d like to keep my records intact.” “And they are quite some records.” Your Superior indicated to the chair in front of him, “Please sit.” You did as was asked, crossing your legs one over the other. “…It’s a wonder to me why the Master has not called you up yet.” “Because he knows that I’m good at ground work. If you pulled me up another level then, of course, I would have jurisdiction over several assassin’s as you do, but I would only get called to field work in times of dire need… and We haven’t had a real firefight in close to 100 years. I would do better out there. Plus aren’t you all men?” you managed to crack a little smile, “I’m not indicating sexism, but…” He gave a small shrug, “They all think you’re male anyway. As we all go by codenames here.” “Yes there is that.” You nodded to the window, “Joel appears to be working hard on the next big thing already,” your eyes flicked back to your Superior, “I assume I am needed right away?” “Yes…” He handed you over a file “As you’re in the area, we thought that might take your fancy. It isn’t directly your job, but it does pay well.” You opened the file and raised an eyebrow, “Nilo? Again?!” “Several of these drug lords are untouchable. As you well know.” “Eh, they give good business, some even pay well,” you flicked the page, “these just seem to be calls for several underlings…” “Several big Russians are getting too big for their boots, too…” “So there’s a lot going on?” “I would only send my best to several jobs at once.” You took the second file from the desk, they all looked to be linked, “These guys aren’t in situ yet, are they?” “No. But we have it on good ear that they will be.” “So Nilo calls for the blood of the Russians, and some” you squinted as you read the name, “…This sounds like drug wars?” It had been a while; they weren’t exactly to your taste. Nilo was a very old client indeed – back when you were just starting out on your own. “You have connections.” “Yes. Joel is useful in that respect too… Does he know?” Joel would know the when and where and exactly what you’d need. You doubted he’d be doing so much rushing if he knew what this was really for. “You can brief him.” “Hmm. Well, it’s a good thing we focus on the numbers and not the side…” You stood, collecting the folders together, “Consider it done.” “Good. Your payment for yesterday has been wired. The man himself has been reported missing. I assume no body will turn up?” “Not on my watch. Unless someone asks for it specifically.” You waved the folders, “Expect some good news within the next few days.” “I always do with you, Y/N. Good luck.” “Thank you Sir. But I won’t need it.”

 As you exited the room and took the stairs you called to him: “Joel!” He fell in step as you hit the floor; “Can get the car out front, I’ve sent intel up to Marty, meet in 10?” “Sure, let me go see what our weapons tech has for me then… you ready?” “Sounds like there’s a war brewing.” “Drugs war. Hope you enjoy undercover.” “Me? Oh Geez…” Joel’s face told the story you expected “Well I’m not even supposed to be there am I? They don’t call me Ghost Shadow because they can see me, do they?” “It’s actuall-” “Don’t care, Joel, remember…” You looked to him with a smile, you’d never had much patience for whispered codenames, “Besides, you have the connections.” He scoffed, “Don’t rope me in with the drugs guys, Nilo’s just used me before.” “Yeah, but I want other side intel.” You tapped him in the chest with your folder, “Get it.” “Yes Sir.” “Funny.”

***

Your weapon’s technician looked as enamoured as ever to see you, his smile bright as you walked onto his floor: “Y/N!” “Marty.” “…Off already?” “One day I’m taking the first fight out to Cozumel and NOONE is going to stop me.” “If you ever get a break, considering what you do, I’m going to give you free range and let you clear out my weapons cache entirely.” “Oh? You’d do that for me?” You fluttered your eyelashes teasingly “Marty!” you tapped your card in, and opened the doors, “What do you have in?” “New? Since you were last in here?” “Don’t give me that tone! Because if there’s one thing I know, you are a collector and second, I haven’t been using this particular weapons store in my work recently, so, yes, new!” “Usually you carry your own pistol.” “Usually?” You gave him a wry smile, “Always. And I do, but everything else-” “What I like most about your pistol is its untraceable.” “Well. That’s how he made it.” “So it WAS his.” “Yes. It the least I could do to honour him.” “…Well, you are right, I do collect. I have several new rifles in, but you’re not such a fan. I also have a light weight sniper gun, and if you were ever interested in something smaller for close range-” “A pocket gun?” You chucked, “Bring it, a lot less messy than a knife.” “So they do work?” “Execution style. Yeah – anything will work if you want it to. I mean, sometimes us Assassins have to improvise; that said its always hoped things will never get that messy.” He slid the tiny gun across the table to you, “It’s not been road tested yet. But… I can think of no better person to try it out. Careful.” “Will be,” you patted it as you slid it into your top coat pocket, “and for Joel?” “What do you think he’ll need?” “You’ve read the file, you tell me! Don’t forget rope; the most useful thing you could give me.” “Kinda think a gun would be more useful.” “Rope saves lives, guns take lives. Get my meaning. Besides, how else do you expect me to ascend or descend a building?!” “Stairs!? A lift!? This is Nilo we’re talking about, it’s not exactly big budget. This isn’t Mission Impossible.” “Well it could be-!” You cracked a smile as Marty muttered under his breath, collecting everything up – he handed the bag to you, “Have a good trip. See you in a few days.” “Of course! Thanks!” *** Joel complained the whole way; it was to be expected - you were used to getting into the middle of gang and mafia warfare. Taking out politicians and heads of state. Drugs sometimes, on a higher level – but drugs carried its own problems… This, in particular, was way below your pay grade. “You’re too good for this.” “He’s fronting the right amount of money and he wants me.” “No, fact is you should have been off shit like this years back. You did some good jobs back then, but you’re above this now. And drugs?!? Y/N, you abhor drugs. It’s like your one thing.” “Look, if He sends me then I can’t push back.” “You have authority, surely?” “Well it’s a little late now. Next time I’ll think on it.” “Yeah well, you better.” His hard stare switched from you to the road. No doubt, Joel didn’t want to be mixed up in this any more than you. Perhaps it was about time you asked to politely be removed from anything related to them.

When you pulled into the parking lot he began grumbling even more. Of course Joel had most of the intel, maybe he’d need a little more research but, that’s what the first meeting was all about. Sometimes you thought he’d rather stay at HQ and feed you the info via a web link. “I mean, a strip club. Could this be any more degrading for you?!” Joel was about to launch into how the Agency should think before sending their best female agent to places like this, to stop the tirade you gave a smile and a joke instead. “As long as you’re not expecting me to get up and dance?” You nudged him, “Besides the girls all love you.” “Not interested.” Was his blunt reply, reaching into the back seat for his case. “Nothing will cheer you up today, huh?” “No. It’ll get worse.” You rolled your eyes, “Okay, so let’s get in, get it done, get out.”

*** To be honest when you’d left your card with Elias you never expected him to call it. Maybe hoped on it, but you’d been done with hoping after a few days; those had now bled into months - and you had plenty of kills under your belt since then (and a grovelled apology from Kyle Sullivan. He hadn’t called on you again since.) But your day got a little better as you wandered into the club and very nearly snorted, hiding your face and smirk behind Joel for a moment. “What?” “Remember when I told you about that little bit of trouble at Mr.Sullivan’s place?” “Yeah, I remember...” “Guess we just stumbled on where they came from.” If it had pleased you, Joel turned another shade of glum. “Brilliant.”

Indeed, though you looked pretty collected as you approached Nilo, Elias has turned sheet white. The others wouldn’t have noticed, you’d taken them all out before they saw your face. Well, maybe except the big guy but he was eyeing you with a certain level of curiosity, instead of what was going through Elias’ mind. Clearly not so happy to see you. You didn’t even spare him a proper glance, nodding to Nilo instead. “It’s been a minute.” “Indeed it has, Y/N. Welcome. We’ll certainly be glad to use your services once more…” “No use kicking around, I suggest we discuss the job.” You bowed your head gently, if only to say my pleasure - with a smirk. Because it would be your pleasure. Although, looking back to Elias you were sure that not everyone was glad. *** Elias didn’t really speak much during the briefing; you already counted too many people involved – and Joel was getting antsy. You’d just have to deal with it, you could do this alone but Nilo wanted to make sure everything was done to his letter – and therefore was sending a group along with you. You didn’t particularly understand this; did he think you were still a kid who’d only just started out? Reckless and a little dumb? You thought it was more likely the group he wanted to send were the ones who would mess everything up. Elias and Ty were amongst them. Elias, being the obvious one you knew – who did not like being under the weight of your stare – and Ty being the one you’d picked out as a potential problem back at Mr. Sullivan’s house. Elias’s brother, Noah, was also in on the meeting and a couple of guys who looked less tough than paper, who you would refuse to take when it came to your terms… but let Nilo think he’s in control, for now. Joel and yourself were now sitting at the bar of the club, him facing it with his laptop, grumbling like there was no tomorrow. And you facing the pole dancers, back against the bar. You’d never had the inclination to get up there and do that, but you were 99% sure you could; maybe one day you’d give someone a run for their money. Joel had ordered some cocktail that came with a lollipop and you wasted no time in stealing that. Your drink wasn’t alcohol, you didn’t drink on a job – Champagne was for afterwards. Joel was drinking to get himself through this one. “So?” “I can’t believe this.” “You’ve said that 20 times.” You removed the candy from your mouth, “I need, you know, something useful.” “I mean the complex itself is relatively easy to get into, you don’t even need the code, just fry everything. There’s multiple floors but there’s hardly anywhere that’s going to have cover…” He was staring hard at the schematic. “Why are we not going alone? The more bodies in a corridor the harder this is!” “Joel.” You warned. “Okay, you just need to get to the inner most point. It looks like one of those panic rooms.” You half turned to his screen as he tapped it, replacing the lolly with an agreeing hum. “Assured your guy, and whatever drugs or shit you gotta haul on back, is there.” He turned to you, looking more than a little disgruntled that he was having to do this, “I’ll make a couple of calls. It won’t be hard. And forgodsake, please do not drag this personal hell out for me.” “I’ll try.” You gave a gently sarcastic smile and he sighed. “And PLEASE stop doing that overtly sexual thing you do! Like, I don’t need it.” “It’s not for you.” “I think he’s a bad idea.” Joel eyes were back on his laptop, and you weren’t sure if his uncomfortable shift was just for show. You supposed he was only going to point back to his ‘degrading’ speech if you pressed further. “I didn’t ask you.” “No, and I can see why.” Of course you were playing a game here. You knew Elias was watching you – there wasn’t much out there you weren’t aware of. That was all part of your training. But you’d noticed that try as he might he couldn’t keep his eyes off you, and you could busy yourself with being a seductress whilst also being teasing and paying him absolutely no mind. What you’d also come to the dissatisfying conclusion of was that his girlfriend was also here; oh, and she was not impressed. You didn’t really care, it was fun to play them against each other, in fact maybe it was more satisfying to have her here, realising exactly what you were doing. Because she was all over him and that was not an exaggeration, but Elias was pushing her out of the way to keep on staring at you. So, if Joel really didn’t think you were going to sit on this stool with your chest pushed out and your shirt riding up, sucking on a lollipop… well he should know better. You didn’t need to show too much skin: the idea was to let his imagination do the work. From what you could tell, Elias’ imagination was working overtime. Joel left you alone to make his series of phone calls outside, convinced that he needed air anyway. Which you’d laugh at of course, considering he’d probably kill his time outside smoking. At which point you turned back to the bar and gathered your thoughts – before you would begin to clear your head of everything but the mission. That was all that would matter for the next few days; that was all that had to matter. As you were pondering this however, you were approached by someone else, and you didn’t really have to guess who had made his way across the club to you. “Well, I see you can’t even call a number on a card, how do you expect me to think that you can pull this off?” Elias slid onto the stool next to you, tipping his head, “It’s not that simple.” You turned your eyes on him, “I get it, you have a girlfriend. Don’t tell me you’re not interested. And if you’re not, don’t come over here and talk to me, keep it strictly business.” He rummaged in his jacket pocket and your calling card was placed back on the table, “I wanted to.” You couldn’t help but smile as you stared at it, “Wanting is something you can say easily, the doing is the only thing I have use for.” Your fingers brushed his as you pushed the card back towards him, “Keep it, if you ever decide to become useful to me.” “Y/N…” The bar tender placed a drink in front of him without Elias even asking and your look away from him was enough to be an eyeroll, with the way you stared straight at the back wall. He spent enough time here for that then. He took a sip, eyeing yours. “You don’t drink?” “Not on the job no.” “Y/N, what are you doing here?” “I’m an assassin, I told you that. It’s like you haven’t listened to a word I’ve said since I walked in.” “Is that any surprise?” His voice was laced with sugar, which made you a little uncomfortable as you turned to him. Those blue eyes were watching your face intently, and if you thought that a man like him was capable of melting, that might be what you’d call it. “Please, Elias. Go back to your girlfriend.” There was a pause, before he leant into your space and you sighed in obvious frustration. “Why do you need two guns?” He indicated to the one on the counter that no one was paying any mind to, and then to your hip, partially concealed by your coat. “Assassin as good as you.” “Will you do what I say, if I tell you?” His smile became a grin that was more of a smirk, “Depends what you tell me to do.” You couldn’t help but hum a laugh as you unholstered the one on your belt, “That,” you waved at the one on the counter, “that’s my own, it’s no big deal. It’s probably standard issue – due an upgrade, but it’s never let me down. Call me superstitious, but I’d quite like to keep it around. This baby…” You weighed the one in your hands up. “Belonged to my mentor.” “The one that used to spew Latin before he killed people?” You couldn’t help but smile as you nodded: he remembered. “So why do you have it?” You placed it with your own and leant into him, you became a little huddle and lowered your voice, “Because he died, Elias. It’s in honour and memory of him.” There was a moment’s pause, and Elias wondered if you’d opt to continue the conversation, “…How? I mean your line of work is dangerous but-” “The Agency killed him, made me watch.” The flicker across Elias’ face was both apologetic and a revelation; ‘that might explain a few things’ “He fell in love with a target, he couldn’t kill her. Eventually the Agency found out and executed him.”  It was weird for you to just out and say it like that, it jarred you – you weren’t sure what you were thinking, saying something so personal. You were supposed to have better instincts than that. Did you trust him? There was something cold about the way you were talking that didn’t fit with the look on your face, and Elias tipped his head – “But you’re working alone now, you have no mentee of your own?” He seemed to be asking if that process would be too painful for you. Instead you gave a shake of your head, “No. I have no patience for that. I would be no good, not yet anyway. Not all of us make it through the process – hence why Joel is my assistant and not an assassin himself. He has all the skills, he didn’t pass all the tests.” You frowned momentarily, then shrugged, “I’ll probably die doing this, or see myself old enough to take my bosses job. Though, I’ve never been much of a girl for desk work.” Elias would agree with that, “How long have you been doing this?” “…That’s… a little too much of me to expose to you.” Oh, but you liked this didn’t you? Talking to him. To someone who was actually interested in you. “I never knew my parents. The Agency has a specific way of testing kids at orphanages and such. There’s no attachment, nowhere for the kids to run. Still, they take care of you better than some children get treated by their own parents so, I guess there’s a win somewhere.” Something twinged in Elias by the look on his face, making you realise you’d touched on something that was a little too much of him to expose to you. You left it alone. “I guess you have a point there.” “Uh huh.” You couldn’t help but smirk as you looked over his shoulder, this girlfriend of his had spotted the two of you talking and the livid look on her face was only making your ego swell a little. There was no way she didn’t know he was into you, and you were invested enough in the conversation to have some attachment to him. You wondered if he’d told her about your kiss, if it was obvious to her by the way Elias looked at you. But he was still watching your face, even when you turned away, the way you were smirking and clearly enjoying yourself, “What?” He was clearly amused, he hoped it was him. “Your little girlfriend is about to blow a fuse.” Elias’ face fell instantly as he looked over his shoulder, “Oh-” “She a dancer here?” He didn’t need to nod, “You walking cliché.” You nudged him off his bar stool, “Go. Go on.” “Try not to miss me.” He shot back, hands getting a little too friendly as his touch lingered on you. Instead you scoffed, picking up your cup, “Trust me, I won’t.”

 ** You kicked around for another day and a half, longer than you would have liked, but once Joel had his intel sorted the small group you assembled had to make the plan water tight. Which means they listened to you, no questions asked. Ty was about the only one you really trusted, he was built for this and he took an interest in you for reasons you thought were kind of unhealthy; not an assassin, you could tell he was probably going to enjoy this. You never took enjoyment from killing – it was just your job. Still, Ty was quiet and nodded along. Elias didn’t. And to be honest, if you weren’t having so much fun playing him and Petal – you’d tried not to snort – off against each other, you’d be more pissed with him than you already were. “She is NOT coming on this mission!” “She always tags along.” “You’re not running this mission Elias, I AM. And there’s only one thing I have a hard stop on, and that’s drugs.” Before he could protest the irony of what you were doing you continued, “She’ll fuck the whole thing up and I know you know that. I will not take drug dependants on this mission. Or we can take her, but I’ll put a bullet in her head the second I feel I have to and I won’t hesitate.” “---You’re…. insane!” “It’s my job. I don’t fail on my tasks; your little gang of tag-alongs are not going to change that.” “Then I won’t come.” “Well don’t. Explain to Nilo why, for all I care.” Elias sighed, faltering on the fact you would give him up so fast, a little too easily for someone who wanted to labour a point, “Okay. Okay… I’ll tell her.” “You better…” He turned away but you pulled him back by his jacket, “Woah, hey. Your brother’s not coming either.” “Oh my god-” “Because he’s the opposite problem. He’s not taking his medication and he’s erratic. You think I can’t read tells?” “No, on this I might be inclined to agree you have the right idea.” “So we’re agreed, on the same page.” Elias didn’t meet your eyes as he nodded, “Yeah.” “So we’re getting somewhere.” Your arms folded, confident little smile making him give you that same melted look. Scratch all previous thoughts, Elias was easier to play than a deck of cards. You wondered how long he’d spent looking at your calling card and desperately wishing to call the number. You wondered why Elias hadn’t already. What was his real reason? He could give you as many cocky smirks and sarcastically suggestive little quips as he wanted – you could see right through him. “I thought we already were.” *** You should have bet on how much complaining Joel was going to do, by the fact that he was muttering curses in more than one language under his breath. For the first part of the journey you thought it was funny, and responded in kind. Linguistics was a nice hobby, and Joel and yourself had a healthy competition on how many you could learn. Aside from that, it was good business practice. For the second half of the journey you settled into silence, closing your eyes and taking yourself through all your focus meditation and breathing exercises – before checking and double checking your weaponry. Then triple checking it – obviously. All with Joel still grumbling on, and Elias and Ty asking each other if this was something they ought to be doing. Joel slowed the van and parked up, the complex was in view, but you were out of sight. You had split yourself into two teams: Elias and yourself, and Joel and Ty. You would clear the first few floors together – without breaking a sweat – and then they would go on look out and you’d take out the name on your rap sheet. Obviously your assistant was as impressed with this arrangement as he was with everything else – but he was on side with you, and he understood it. He could make sure there were no screw ups. Joel also had a build like Ty did, so he wasn’t about to be taken out, or by surprise, by him. You all had communication links to each other so you could keep tabs, but you wanted radio silence unless absolutely necessary. The only good thing about this was that you didn’t really have to worry about how messy you were, Nilo didn’t have a preference for making someone disappear, he just wanted the man killed. As predicted the four of you swept the first few floors silently, splitting the building nearly in half you came to the point where you’d be leaving Joel behind, turning to him you opted to continue your language game: “You know where you’re going?” “I know what I’m looking for.” “Be careful. I don’t trust them.” “The feeling is mutual.” “Yell if you need anything.” He shot Elias a look before turning to you, “I’d say the same, but I think you can handle yourself!” You chuckled, “Thanks, Joel. Until later.” And, indicated for Elias to follow you, ascended the stairs.

  ***

Everything looked very different up here, but was equally as quiet. There’d be security every so often, you were sure of that, as there had been downstairs. Perhaps more, considering your target was their boss, but nothing you didn’t think yourself capable of handling. “So, I don’t get it, is this a drugs complex, or a house!?” You turned to Elias as he stared around the walls: very domestic from the bland grey concrete you’d seen downstairs. “Both.” It wasn’t a guess; you’d seen the schematic. “A safe house?” “Round about, we’re heading for a panic room.” “You have that map stored in your head?” You kept the pistol steady as you rounded the corner, it was clear and you beckoned him on, “Is that impressive?” “Vaguely.” You chuckled, “I’ll take it.” You suddenly pulled back, slamming Elias against the wall as a bullet streaked passed you, “Shit!” You weren’t worried about that, immediate with your retaliation fire. You were trained for this, it was instinct. There was more than one of them and you had to bring them down quick less they raise the alarm, you had no time to think about cover: about the only thing Elias did think of. “They’ll have heard bullets, I gotta go.” You turned back to him, “Your choice, go back to them or try to keep up!” Trying to keep up was much easier said than done, and you had sprinted out of sight by the time Elias had run around the next corner. “Ah, shit.” He ran a hand through his hair, “Well, I’ve followed her this far!” You must have been quick, because Elias made it another couple of floors up before he found any signs that you might have had difficulty, what worried him was that it was your mentors’ gun that was lying on the ground – so out of the way it’d probably been kicked or thrown there. Carelessly; you hadn’t just decided to drop it. You certainly would have retrieved it.  Whoever your mentor had been, however you tried to hide it, Elias knew he’d meant a lot to you. Picking it up, the still loaded chamber and half empty magazine told a worse story to him. What the hell had happened to you?! Surely they hadn’t overpowered you? Not you! *** Elias almost started to believe it as he continued walking, as suddenly there wasn’t a body, or blood or an empty casing anywhere in sight. Everything was still quiet. Not a sound, not even on the radio. He arrived on the next floor, and again everything was clear. It occurred to him to call the other two for help very nearly a little too late, as, more concerned with finding out where you were, Elias rounded the next corner without his pistol up. In fact, without a pistol at all, and he was faced with yours. “You’re lucky that I check what I’m shooting at before I pull a trigger, Elias! Geez!” You flicked the safety on. “ME!? You just gave me a heart attack! Where the hell did you go!?” You shuffled on the spot with a little shrug, “Look, just, don’t go upstairs into the office, okay?” “Office…? What? I thought you said he had a panic room.” “He absolutely had a panic room – he wasn’t in it. It was not the cleanest kill I’ve ever made and…” You paused staring up at the ceiling, “At least it’s done.” He followed your eyeline and grimaced, leaking through the ceiling already was a patch of blood, “That’s a lot of bodies or it’s a terribly built house-!” “Bit of both…” You looked to him, “Hardly matters right now, don’t you think?” “Who the hell are you, Y/N?” Your head tipped, regarding him seriously in the eschewing silence to his question. “You really want to know that?” He nodded firmly, “Yes.” Elias wasn’t sure he liked the smile you gave back, the way it made the heart leap in his chest, and a shudder run up his spine. You grabbed him, shoving him up against a wall this time not to protect him – far from it. Your lips on his were rough, this wasn’t love…  you weren’t even sure you could call it chemistry. But it was something. Elias pulled your body into his, your fingers running into his hair, he groaned into the kiss as you raked your nails across his scalp. But you continued to push his body as you made him breathless. Oh… shit. Elias could barely think properly as he ran his hands under your coat and over your ass, pulling your shirt with him, the feel of your supple skin under his calloused hands drove him crazy. Until he found himself backed up against a door, breaking the kiss in confusion. “Maybe you should try it.” You encouraged, voice at a whisper as you brought his lips back to yours, Elias wasn’t going to say no, and it swung open behind his push. This time when he broke the kiss it was only to smirk. “Oh? A bedroom?” “Uh huh.” He turned back to you, eyes raking your body as they had done before, but now significantly more hungry. You pushed a finger to his lips before he started getting clever: “…Stop talking… stop thinking… don’t make me wait any longer.” Replacing your finger with your lips, Elias pulled back to nod, “Okay.” He pulled you into his arms, relieving you of your coat immediately. It was almost like no time had passed at all, he tasted the same as you remembered, whisky and cigarette smoke. Elias pulled you closer, certainly not eager to break the kiss or let you go for even a moment. You pulled off his leather jacket, throwing it with your own; you revelled in the way that you were both so different, but you wanted the same thing so badly. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” He gave you a small smirk. You let the look on your face answer for you, to which Elias grinned, hands under your shirt he pulled it over your head, allowing you to relieve him of his own. His fingers ghosted over your skin, and he paused momentarily: every so often there was a litter of scars. You weren’t about to count the number of times you’d been in real trouble, but you always got out of it. You simply chuckled, “Yeah, no dancing on a stage in just my bra and panties for me.” “That’s not why I’m here.” You’d agree with that, kissing him gently again, your fingers grazed over his chest and Elias tensed; “What? Scared?” You smirked against his lips. “A little. It’s not like I don’t know what you’re capable of.” “I don’t sleep with my targets.” You kissed him again, winking as you undid his belt, dragging him back to your lips with his belt loops; this time he bit your lip gently, making you groan against his kiss. Elias picked you up, undoing your pants and bra clasp, pushing you down onto the bed he nipped down your jawline and neck. You pulled him back, reciprocating Elias’ trail of kisses, whispering prayers into his skin in nearly every language you knew. He slid your pants down your legs with a sigh, and he shook under your touch. You were too much for him already, but you weren’t about to show Elias mercy. You smirked wickedly, claiming his lips with your own once more. This man was about to be all yours… *** All of you were clearly sworn to silence. Elias was the more dazed of the three of you (Ty seemed none the wiser), and Joel kept throwing you dirty and disgusted looks. You couldn’t care less. You’d done your job, you were entitled to a little fun every once in a while, your assistant didn’t have to be a killjoy. Overall though, you were disappointed in yourself, somewhere along the way – probably when you were dealing with everyone who was actually occupying the panic room – you’d lost your most important possession. You weren’t about to admit that out loud, but you hadn’t been able to find it as you had made your way back downstairs. You vowed you’d get it back, but you’d rather go back with Joel and do a real sweep without the other two around. There was too much going on here – and it was obvious Joel wanted out and away from here as soon as possible. That was fine with you. You dropped Elias and Ty back at the bar, and you were wondering if this time it might really be it. Were you both satisfied now? It scared you that you might not be sure of the answer to that. Joel went to deliver the news and package, and Ty wasn’t one to kick around, leaving you and Elias outside. “Well, now you can get back to that girlfriend of yours.” “Is that really any way to say goodbye?” “I don’t want to get emotionally involved here.” Though your eyes strayed from his face a little too much for Elias to want to believe that. “Does that make everything easier for you?” “Yeah.” You folded your arms, no point in skirting around that. Elias for once looked like he was seeing right through you, “Except there’s one thing that makes you show your cards.” “What?” You narrowed your eyes at him, how dare he stand here acting like he had you all figured out. Elias rummaged in his jacket, and you nearly gasped as he presented you with your mentor’s pistol. “He must have been one hell of a guy.” “He… was.” You took it from him delicately, “You found it.” “It’s important. Right?” “…Thank you.” And there was emotion behind that, you both knew it. “You’re welcome.” Although his hand took yours, thumb running over that tattoo on your wrist, and down to your fingers, Elias was so close to entwining them. He thought better of it, instead twisting the ring so that ‘Veritas’ very clearly faced him – you just about admit to yourself you were disappointed. “My offer is still on the table, you know?” You gave a small smile, “If you ever want to be useful, you have my number.” He chuckled, “Well. I’ll… think on it.” Then added, with a smile, “That’s the truth.” “Don’t think.” You took a step back as Joel called you, walking briskly back to the car. Yes, he certainly wanted out. “I told you, the only thing worth it, is the doing!” ** Amazingly Joel did not go ballistic at you – you thought he was just glad to be out. On top of that he knew you’d seen the looks he was shooting you, and you supposed he thought that said it all. To be honest it probably did, and you would both vow silently to never talk about this again. You pulled your pistol apart to check it, as you always did and, satisfied, you pulled your mentor’s apart too. Pausing as you checked the magazine, sitting in the top was a rolled-up piece of paper. You smiled to yourself, only guessing what it said. You pieced the pistol back together and unravelled it. He’d watched you do this on the journey, so Elias could be certain that you’d check your gun pretty soon after he’d returned it. Spera - Trust. ‘Someone is a show off’. You almost laughed as you read the number before rolling it up again and pocketing it. Truth and Trust seemed almost ironic. And yet also seemed to be completely fitting. You made sure to be safely home, to ensure that Joel wasn’t physically ill. And also to wait a few days, to keep Elias hanging. Which he was, because that man wasn’t like you. You could wait on him to call like it was no big deal – but he would be checking that mobile of his every ten minutes at the very least. Predictably he picked up on the second ring: “Y/N?” “Hey, babe.” You would be directly flirty, you’d tell Elias what he wanted to hear, “I see my number must be saved in that phone of yours, you just never pressed the call button. See, even a busy girl like me can action something.” “I… I’m just glad you did.” You left a significant pause, enough to make him uncomfortable, “Are you asking me to trust you?” “The truth is important to you, isn’t it? Don’t you trust me?” Your voice became quiet, all too aware of the vulnerability of admittance: “I do. It scares me that I do.” You sighed, “But that hardly matters. I told you I like action. So, if I don’t want you to call me unless it’s for you to be useful, I figured that my calling you was only ever about offering you the opportunity to be so…” “How?” Elias’ voice was eager, you could almost see his nails digging into the bar, the tension running through him, a slight dark tint to those blue eyes of his. “You ever been to Boston?” “…No?” “Well, if you get yourself on a flight over… I can give you an address.” “You live in Boston?” “You asked me to trust you.” “I did.” There was relief and understanding in that sentence. “When?” “Whenever you want, babe. I’ll let you know if I get called anywhere though, wouldn’t want you to waste a trip.” “Considerate of you.” “Well, like for like.” You smiled, “Just one more small favour, Elias. An… assurance. Perhaps an insurance policy. Before you do come all the way out to me.” “What’s that?” Really what he was saying was anything. I’ll do anything. “I told you that my mentor died because he fell in love with a target…” “You did.” Then he quickly added, “I won’t… tell anyone!” You shook your head, Elias was jumping ahead of himself. As were you. But you weren’t sure where this was going, and yet you had to be certain. It wasn’t that you thought you were about to fall in love. You might, it wasn’t beyond you. It was that if you were asked to kill him… you weren’t your mentor. You weren’t scared that you’d be unable to pull the trigger, you were scared of the knowledge that you could. “Yes, well. Just don’t do anything to piss anyone off, okay?”

---

Thank you for reading! 😁💙

[gohyuck]

prologue | part 1 | part 2 | part 3

pairing: greaser!jeno lee x rich!reader; part of a collab by @neovisioned​

genre: greaser!au; runaways!au; criminal!au; angst/fluff/smut

word count: 10.4k

warnings: infidelity, miscarriages of justice, johnny’s a huge asshole in this i’m so sorry, a lot of straight up classism, explicit mentions of sex (fingering), vehicular manslaughter, armed robbery, general unarmed violence and fighting, pistol-whipping

a/n: so i know a lot of people loved the fact that my most recent long fic (surgeon jaemin!) focused on side characters, but i’ve made this fic pretty jeno-centric on purpose, and i hope it’s still as enjoyable as possible for readers! 

May 29, 1957

He’s always been easy on the eyes. 

It’s shallow, and a great part of him knows it. Still, as far back as he can remember, Jeno’s always had one thing, and one thing only: his looks. When he was 7 and starving on the streets, terrified of going back to a broken, lifeless home, he’d use his adorable face to elicit pity and pizza from the aging man who ran the local diner. When he was 15 and growing into himself, his blossoming attractiveness got the girl in his geometry class to give him her homework to copy off of, free of charge. When he’d first started working at the garage, a high school dropout at the age of 17, it was his ‘rugged handsomeness’ - review courtesy of the college girls who trailed their rich boyfriends as they searched for cheap fueling and car repairs - that called in tips by the handful. 

Jeno’s always had his looks. That’s why, even though he thinks it’s silly of him, he can’t help but look at you with eyes that are overflowing with apprehension. He grips the blond hair-dye just a little too tightly, fingers making what’ll be lasting indents in the plastic box. 

“Do I really have to do this?”

You arch an eyebrow, wrenching the dye out of his iron-grip as you do. Jeno watches, feeling more helpless than he has been this whole time as you shake its contents out into your hand. The bleach and the agent you mix it with fall into your open palm, followed by the barely darker dye. You read the instructions over once, twice, before finally looking up to meet Jeno’s trained gaze. 

It’s all you can do to heave a heavy sigh.

“You were framed for a robbery, and then you stole a car and accidentally kidnapped me, but the hill you choose to die on is dyeing your hair? Really? If you’re like this now, what are you going to do when we get tattooed?”

“I - We - Tattoos?” Jeno squawks, and you can’t help but sigh again before rolling your eyes. 

It’s going to be a long night. Amidst it all, you can’t help but think back to how everything started.

As Jeno keeps his glare trained on the dye, you can’t help but assume that he’s doing the same. 

♕ ♕ ♕

Day One: May 25, 1957

Cherry red lips, wanton giggles, a skirt that’s too short, even by what she calls her ‘very own tramp standards’. Jeno can’t get enough of it all - can’t get enough of her, he’s so intoxicated by her. It’s in the way her head falls back, her mouth falls open, her knees fall down, allowing her legs to fall wide. He leans over her, his well muscled arms making it easy to hover instead of collapse on top of her as he coaxes her release from her, two fingers deep in her spasming cunt while his thumb works away at her clit. Jeno’s close - so close - to what he wants, but he doesn’t dare to chase after it; instead of pressing his lips to hers and tasting that enticing lipstick for himself, he settles for pressing his forehead against hers, letting his soft breath land against the silent scream her mouth is currently displaying. 

Her chest heaves, her next breaths come out in gasps. As she settles down, Jeno can’t keep himself from dipping his head down, pressing a gentle and completely chaste kiss against the skin of her stomach between her belly-button and her underwear line. She squirms at the feeling of his warm lips against her now-hot skin, and he chuckles against her body before pulling away for good, though not before wiping his fingers on her thigh. 

“‘S that good, Jess?” He quirks an eyebrow, pulling a handkerchief from his back pocket for her to wipe the sweat across her forehead with. “There’s grease on that s- yeah, that’s the good side.”

“You sure know how to charm a girl, Jeno Lee,” The woman responds dryly, though he doesn’t miss the pleased smirk that crosses her features. She swipes at her inner thighs once before tossing the handkerchief - or, really, rag - at the mechanic, who catches it with ease and stuffs it back where it came from. 

“You’re the one who wanted to be fingered in the passenger seat of Johnny Suh’s car, filthy girl,” Jeno throws back, not surprised when Jess swats at his arm at the mention of her boyfriend. She loves Johnny, Jeno knows she does, but that doesn’t stop her from begging for Jeno’s fingers or tongue or, if she’s got time, his dick, whenever she stops by the City Motors garage that Jeno’s been employed at for the past two months. She always comes in driving Johnny’s red Chevy Bel Air convertible. He knows it’s bad of her and bad for him, especially if Johnny ever gets wind of it, but he can’t find it in himself to stop, not when it’s free spank bank material. 

Jeno’s probably a bad person for it. He doesn’t really care - after all, it’s just sex. If emotions were involved - and they never are, not for Jeno, not when it comes to getting his dick wet - it might be a different story. That, and it’s Johnny Suh’s girl. 

Jeno fucking hates Johnny Suh. 

“Say, speaking of John,” Jess says, seemingly sufficiently cooled down by now. “I keep meaning to and forgetting to ask - you’re the same age as his sister, aren’t you?” 

“(Name)?” Jeno asks, his brow furrowing when he gets a nod of confirmation. “Yeah, I mean, we were in the same homeroom and shit this past year. Why?”

“Just curious. You’ll probably see her a lot more often from now on, honestly - she got a job at the diner when they had that hiring spree last week.” Jess flicks her head vaguely towards Jeno, and he knows it’s because, if he turns around and looks out the window, he’ll be staring directly at Kim’s, what can be considered the only good eatery on this side of town. He tries his best to seem even vaguely interested at what Jess is saying - going so far as to crane his neck backwards in order to look at the same diner he sees day in and day out - but she calls his bluff easily. Instead of saying anything, she just rolls her neck out before finally shoving the car door open.

“Say ‘hi’ to her sometimes, y’know?” She asks, peering in once she’s standing. “For me. Forget that she’s a Suh sometimes. She needs to talk to more people, anyways.” Jess states, her gaze imploring. Still, Jeno can’t help but scoff at the last thing she says, prompting an affronted look from the woman who’s looking expectantly at him. 

“(Name)? Needing to talk to more people? Everyone adores her, she’s always with some new person getting into some bullshit. Honestly, she probably needs to talk to less people at this point.” Jeno explains himself so as to not garner anymore adversity from his fuckbuddy, though the way he squints in mild disbelief at Jess’ suggestion annoys her anyways. The mild petulance that comes through only serves to remind Jess that Jeno is, in fact, only 19 - and while her being 21 doesn’t change their dynamic much, it does bring about some slight difference in maturity. 

She tends to overlook it because the benefits seem to outweigh the detractors.

As Jess makes eye contact with Jeno, though, she knows he won’t listen to her friendly suggestion. She doesn’t know why she bothers, sometimes - even though she’s only in it for the sex, he’s really only in it for the sex. As far as anyone’s concerned, Jeno Lee does only two things, and he does them well: fix cars and fuck. Considering that he’s a high school drop-out with no plans of college or trade school, Jess supposes that he doesn’t have much else to do. 

“Whatever,” She finally acquiesces, not bothering to return the small smirk Jeno throws at her. “What’s the time?”

“It’s about 4:45,” The mechanic responds without even checking his wristwatch, though Jess doesn’t doubt that he’s right. “What time’s he coming by for his car again?”

“Couple minutes past 5. Got a smoke? I need one.” Jess is still peering into the car from outside, her expression making it seem like she’s waiting for something more than a quick cigarette break. Jeno holds her gaze steady for a beat, two beats, before he breaks away, pushing the door open on his side so he can finally get out too. After all, the car is honestly kind of cramped, and absolutely not ideal for what they’ve been getting up to in it… week after week after week. 

“You should tell your boyfriend to stop fucking up his car,” Jeno states simply, leaning over the fabric top of Johnny’s convertible. It’d been the left sideview mirror today, the transmission last week, the rims the week before. It wouldn’t surprise Jeno if Jess drives in four days from now with a crack in the windshield and her underwear already around her knees. Jess says nothing, only leveling Jeno’s stare. He waits, finally breaking it for the second time in a row once he’s sure she’s sweating a little bit in her new boots. The small smirk he allows himself as he beckons for her to follow him back into the garage is reward enough for him. There’s a pack of Camels set on his work bench, open in such a way that Jeno knows Jaemin must’ve taken one earlier when they’d started their shift together. 

“Help yourself, doll.” Jeno says, gesturing vaguely towards it after pulling a cigarette out for himself. He swipes the lighter off of Jaemin’s desk - his friend’s on a late lunch break at the diner right now anyways - and uses it to light up his own smoke before tossing it underhandedly to Jess. 

“Don’t ‘doll’ me,” She scoffs, her words muffled around the cigarette that’s now in between her lips. He admires her hands, her nimble red-tipped fingers as she lights it up, pulling it out from her mouth and letting it dangle between two fingers before setting the lighter down on top of the pack. “You know only Johnny’s allowed to call me that.”

“If he had that much of a handle on you, you wouldn’t be crying for my cock every week now, would you?”

“I don’t cry,” Jess protests, and Jeno finds both her sudden indignance, and the fact that this is the hill she chooses to die on, kind of cute. He has no feelings toward her, sure, but it doesn’t mean he can’t admire her for what she is: art. And someone’s gotta nail masterpieces against walls, right?

“You get the gist.” Jeno brushes her complaint aside with ease, blowing smoke out through one corner of his mouth before he speaks. “Tell him to watch where he parks so he doesn’t screw up his mirrors again. There’s gotta be some limit on daddy’s money.”

“Why don’t you tell him yourself?” Jess throws back, and Jeno can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes.

“His highness won’t talk to a lowly greaser like me, obviously. Probably thinks I spend all my tip money on hair oil or some stupid shit. You really picked one for yourself, Jess. Outdid yourself on the asshattery of the last one. The fact that he makes you drop his car off when he’s the one who screws it up should be a red flag itself.” Even talking about Johnny has a pit of dread growing in the bottom of Jeno’s stomach, and he drops his half-smoked cigarette to the ground before crushing it under his work boots. He knows it isn’t the cig making him feel sick, but he suddenly has no appetite left for nicotine anymore. 

“You’re lucky our friendship predates my relationship, or I’d fuck you up for saying shit like that,” Jess warns, though there’s no real bite behind her bark. She drops her cigarette to the ground too, and Jeno steps on it so she doesn’t have to. 

“Can’t believe you’re deciding to keep some kind of allegiance to me based solely on the fact that our moms used to stick us together when they went to whore around downtown while our dads were being drunken good-for-nothings somewhere or the other,” Jeno scoffs in faux disbelief even as his eyes fold into half moons. Jess allows herself a small grin at the expense of their younger selves as well. They both know better than anyone that shared traumas can only make bonds stronger. “When’ll you tell your prissy, pompous, prick of a partner that you’re one of the lowlifes he hates so much?”

“He already knows that I wasn’t… well off before I got my job at the salon,” Jess replies carefully, doing her best not to incriminate her boyfriend in the eyes of someone who already loathes him. “Besides, he honestly isn’t that bad. He says shit sometimes, yeah, but he knocks it off if I tell him to. Shouldn’t affect whether or not you talk to (Name), anyways.”

Jess slips you into the conversation so easily that it almost gives Jeno whiplash trying to process what she’s said. When he’s done, it’s all he can do but to let out a confused query.

“The hell does (Name) have to do with this?”

“I mean, you’re the same age, and you kind of know each other. I just figured that...”

Suddenly, Jess’ motives dawn on Jeno. Judging by the way she trails off, ending her sentence both sheepishly and abruptly, she sees that he’s figured her out, too.

“Are you fucking trying to set me up with your scummy boyfriend’s sister?”

“He isn’t scummy! And, I mean, not necessarily. Maybe. Just a little, but come on! Isn’t it right for me to want two people I love and care for to find love and caring in each other?” Jess’ words come out harried, and she flaps her arms around a bit to try and prove the point she just can’t seem to hit on. Jeno’s brows furrow even more, and he can’t help his incredulous snicker.

“You, Miss ‘I just got fingered by a childhood friend in my boyfriend’s car for what has to be, like, the sixth time in four weeks’, want to talk about what’s right and what’s not?” Jeno points out, and Jess winces slightly. He knows it’s a bit of a low blow - yes, Jess is a cheater, and it’s completely terrible of her, and maybe even Johnny Suh deserves better than someone who’s unfaithful, but if Jess is the one committing the crime then Jeno’s aiding and abetting. He can see the hurt flash across his friend’s features, and he allows himself to soften for a moment before speaking again. “I’m sure (Name) is nice and all, but I’m not looking for a relationship right now. If I was, I wouldn’t be messing around with you, or anyone for that matter.”

Jess sighs, but it’s a sigh of acceptance. She glances down wistfully at the smushed cigarette she’d abandoned earlier, making no move to get another one. Jeno assumes she’s trying to cut back - the cost of a pack has gone up again. 

“I do love him, you know that, right?” Jess says, voice soft and sincere in a way that has Jeno’s eyes flicking up to meet her own. “I just - I can’t give all of myself to him, you know? Not yet, anyways. Not after everything that’s happened in my life. It isn’t justification, it’s just…”

“You’ve been dealt so many bad hands that you don’t know how to play poker anymore,” Jeno finishes, smiling gently at his friend. “Yeah, I get it. I’m just your pain relief, remember? You don’t have to explain yourself to me. Fuck first, friends later.”

“Pretty sure it’s the other way around,” Jess rolls her eyes, though she knows he’s just messing with her. They might use each other, but their friendship predates any sexual relationships either of them have been having with anyone. They both know that Jess doesn’t just drop by the garage to drop her panties, although that is what happens first and foremost every time. 

Before Jeno can quip back at her, the telltale thrum of a car’s engine draws his attention away from his friend. Both of them turn their heads simultaneously to see none other than Yuta Nakamoto pull up in his Thunderbird, Johnny Suh riding shotgun beside him. Jeno doesn’t miss the way Jess perks up, her grin dazzling as she spots her boyfriend. He can’t say the same for himself, not when his stomach drops at the sight of the two men. 

Yuta at least has the ‘decency’ to shoot Jeno a patronizing smirk. Johnny doesn’t even acknowledge the man beside his girlfriend, instead turning directly to appraise his fixed up car after giving Jess a quick peck on the cheek. 

“Funny,” Johnny remarks thoughtfully once he’s done with his once-over. “Are you sure you fixed this? It doesn’t reek of grease or anything. Maybe you underdid your hair today, kid, hmm?” 

Jeno’s suddenly hyper-aware of how slicked back his pitch black hair is, and his fingers twitch at how badly he wants to push it back again, both out of nervousness and anger. He says nothing, only clenching his jaw in response.

“Leave him be, John,” Jess speaks up, holding her hand out for her boyfriend to take. He grabs it naturally. “He’s a good kid.”

Johnny’s cocky, holier-than-thou grin slips a little at seeing his girl - his girl - defend someone he equates to the bottom of his shoe, and Jeno notices it. For a moment, it seems like there’s a rebuttal sitting on the tip of his tongue. His necessity to keep his girlfriend’s approval wins him over, though, and Johnny says nothing more, only asking Jess to hand him the key he knows she has. 

Yuta leaves first, though not before confirming their next whereabouts with Johnny. He slides back into the drivers’ seat of his Thunderbird, raises his eyebrow at Jeno through the windshield, and backs out slowly but surely. Jeno isn’t a big fan of Yuta, either, but at least the man respects his car.

The same can’t be said for Johnny. 

He slams the passengers’ side door shut once Jess gets in, and Jeno can’t help the wince he gives at the noise. In that moment, he feels deeply for the Bel Air, wishing he could jailbreak it from the hell it must be experiencing at the Suh household. Right before Johnny gets into the driver’s seat, he stops, eyes flitting towards Jeno as he digs something out of his pockets. 

Jeno watches as Johnny flicks a dime into the open tip jar they leave out on a rickety old stool, stands there and takes it as the older man shoots him the kind of wolffish grin that never reaches anyone’s eyes. 

“Buy yourself something nice,” Johnny says, smirking as he looks Jeno up and down. He takes in the peeling leather on the greaser’s workboots, the grease stains on his blue jeans, the way his white tank top is soaked through with sweat, his ratty leather jacket lying across his workbench. When he looks back up, eyes meeting Jeno’s, the latter can’t help but feel as if he’s just been searched.

“At least… if you even know what ‘nice’ means.” Johnny finally finishes, smirking maddeningly at Jeno. Before any rebuttal can be made, Johnny’s inside his car and turning on the ignition. Jess waves goodbye to Jeno, albeit sheepishly, who only raises a hand in parting. It’s only after they’ve disappeared, tearing down Central Street, that Jeno registers Jaemin leaning against the corner of the garage. It’s evident by the way his friend is standing that he hadn’t actually witnessed anything, and Jeno finds that he wants to keep his interactions to himself today. It’s also evident that, while Jeno has nothing to tell Jaemin, the opposite does not stand true.

“What’s up?” Jeno asks, picking up and tossing the Camels at Jaemin on what is, by this point, sheer muscle memory. He throws the lighter right after, and Jaemin catches them both with ease. This is unsurprising - before school, life, and work all became too hard to balance, Jaemin had been a catcher on the local high school baseball team. 

“There’s a new broad behind the counter at Kim’s,” Jaemin says, sticking the cigarette in his mouth and lighting it as he speaks, all with the kind of finesse that only comes from years of doing the same thing. “Looks familiar, ’m sure I’ve seen her before - pro’ly went to school together. Damn pretty, looks more your type than mine, though.”

Jeno doesn’t really care, frankly, but it’s Jaemin and he’ll always humor Jaemin. That, and they’ve got about an hour ‘til the next person with an appointment comes in, so he’s got some time to kill. 

“You wouldn’t know if you went to school with her, considering you only ever fuckin’ showed up to play ball. I don’t think I ever saw you in class.” Jeno scoffs, though he knows he should probably keep speaking when Jaemin throws him a scathing glare. “How can you be so sure that she’s my type?”

Jaemin takes the cigarette out of his mouth, waving it around aimlessly as he finally walks over to his own workbench, right beside Jeno’s. He’s got a couple of chairs beside it, and he shoves one towards Jeno before sitting down himself. Jeno, for his part, swings his chair around so he can sit down backwards as he faces Jaemin, folding his arms over the back of it and resting his chin on top of his forearm. Once they’re both situated, Jaemin finally speaks again.

“Pretty, but doesn’t remind me of any of the greaser girls or the rich girls, somehow. Guess she doesn’t fit in that way. Smart, either talks animatedly or doesn’t say shit at all. Seemed all bright-eyed but with sum’n dark behind them. Mysterious, just a bit. Paint a good enough picture for you, asshole?” Jaemin good-naturedly flicks some ash towards his friend, drawing forth a chuckle from the other man. 

“Sounds like you’re describin’ a book character,” Jeno throws back, causing Jaemin to roll his eyes even as he’s genuinely smiling. “Been spending too much time with Mark.”

“Maybe so,” Jaemin acquiesces, leaning forward in his chair to look Jeno in the eyes. He turns his head to the side, blowing smoke out through his lips before looking back. “Doesn’t change the fact that she’s good for you. Really, I think you two could hit it off. Even got her number for you.”

“You’re that desperate to pawn me off, huh?” Jeno raises an eyebrow, though he holds out his hand for Jaemin to drop a slightly-crumpled napkin into. He might not go for whatever girl it is romantically, but it might be good to go on a date or two just to keep himself from getting too rusty with the girls. That, and he has to admit that sitting at home, tinkering with the house’s clocks or yelling at Donghyuck not to use up all the hot water for the week is less appealing than having a nice night out (or a nice night in, depending on the girl). He supposes he’s mildly optimistic as he unfolds the napkin, even allowing himself a small grin at the idea of doing something outside of his ordinary, everyday, work to home to work to home life.

Jeno’s smile fades fast once he sees what’s scrawled messily on the napkin in black ink. 

(Name) Suh

XXX-XXX-XXXX ;)

He blinks once, blinks twice, before letting out a groan and allowing his head to drop onto the wood of the chair’s back. Jaemin, concerned, asks if he’s alright, but Jeno just ignores him, too busy wallowing in the cosmic irony of his best friend giving him the number of the one girl he would never get with. 

“Is this about the chick or is it something else? I saw Johnny Suh pull out of here, that motherfucker. If he wasn’t giving us so much business all the time I would’ve TP’ed his house by now. Is it him? Don’t let him get to you-”

“Jaemin,” Jeno interrupts his best friend, finally looking up from his reprieve in the chair. Jaemin quits rambling almost immediately, his gaze running over Jeno’s unreadable expression. Jeno looks down at the note, up at Jaemin, and then back down at your handwriting again before letting out a weighty, long-suffering sigh.

“Jaemin,” Jeno repeats himself, finally making eye contact with his friend. “We need to have a talk.”

♕ ♕ ♕

“You saw that her last name is Suh and you didn’t stop to think that she might be related to Johnny fucking Suh? Really? I know you’re dense, Jaemin, but for Chrissakes!” 

Renjun’s voice rings through the small, two bedroom house as he chastises Jaemin while the two of them cook dinner. Jeno’s sitting on the floor in the living room, fiddling with Donghyuck’s radio: he’s been meaning to fix it for weeks, now, but it’s only today that he’s really found the time. That, and he’s trying to avoid the ongoing argument that’s occurring while two of his friends are making meatloaf. He knows that he’s the reason for it, yes, but that doesn’t mean that he wants to be involved. 

It isn’t Jaemin’s fault, really, and Jeno knows this. He can’t stay mad at his best friend in general, but he’s doubly inclined to let Jaemin off the hook because the younger boy has no clue as to why Johnny Suh is so universally hated in the Lee household. Jaemin doesn’t even live with them like Renjun does, so he’s blissfully unaware of exactly how marred the relationship between Jeno and Johnny is. 

“I’m home, you fucks!” The front door swings open with abandon just as Jeno finishes straightening the radio’s antenna, and he winces at the screech of the door’s protesting hinges. He’s so startled that he almost drops the radio itself, but he manages to catch it in time. This is lucky - Donghyuck saunters into the living room at the right moment, seeing Jeno both fumble and save his precious radio. Jeno pretends like he doesn’t see the glare his cousin throws at him, instead waving in greeting to him before beckoning him over.

“They’re going at it in the kitchen,” Jeno says lowly once Donghyuck’s close enough to hear him. “I wouldn’t go in there just yet.”

Donghyuck mulls this information over in his mind for a moment before raising a single, perfect eyebrow. He snatches his radio from his cousin’s lap, securing it in his grip, and sits down beside Jeno before he chooses to respond.

“And what if I want to cause problems on purpose?”

“Didn’t you have a full day of doing that at work today?” Jeno asks rhetorically, causing Hyuck to roll his eyes over-exaggeratedly. 

“Which job?” He throws back, and Jeno can’t help but laugh. Donghyuck cracks a smile, too, though neither of them know why: it isn’t funny, especially not when Hyuck is speaking truth. He’s worked two jobs since dropping out of high school alongside Jeno a year prior - one close to the rich side of town in a quaint bookstore frequented by nearby college students, and one as a local plumbers’ assistant. None of the boys ever know where he’s at, which is concerning to all of them but something nobody bothers bringing up with Hyuck. 

Judging by the fact that he’s wearing jeans and a shirt that’s had the sleeves ripped off, Jeno feels as if it’s safe to say that Hyuck’s just gotten home from being under sinks and in cisterns. By this time, he typically would’ve washed the oil out of his hair and changed into his sleeping clothes. Jeno’s heart twinges at the idea that his cousin might have to go back out to work after eating.

“You gettin’ some sleep tonight?” Jeno’s query is soft-spoken, and Donghyuck can’t help but give him a sad smile before he slowly shakes his head no.

“On house call duty until 5 in the morning. I’ll be home to nap, have some eggs, and then get to the store, though. Maybe we’ll see each other then, brother.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Jeno sighs in a way that says he knows they won’t, and Donghyuck hits his shoulder with his own. They sit like that, in silence, listening to Renjun and Jaemin bicker for a few moments, wallowing in the harsher truths of their lives for a few short moments before Donghyuck, never one comfortable with the quiet, breaks it to ask the obvious question.

“What’s up with those two?” He tilts his head towards the kitchen, and Jeno sighs before dropping his head down and pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes.

“Jaemin wingman-ed me to one of the new hires at Kim’s.”

“That’s not so bad,” Donghyuck says, furrowing his brow at Jeno. “I mean, you’re a manwhore. Figured that isn’t something you’d particularly mind.”

“Shut up,” Jeno scowls, much to Hyuck’s amusement. “And that’s the pot calling the kettle black. It isn’t the act, it’s the victim.”

“The vic- the girl?” Donghyuck’s voice is incredulous now, and Jeno all but groans as he shakes his head in disagreement.

“No - I mean, maybe, considering it’s Jaemin she was talking to - but no, fuck. I meant me, I’m the victim.”

“And why is that?”

“Because the girl is - he got me (Name) Suh’s number, damn it. Of all the girls he could’ve talked to about me, it was her.”

Donghyuck’s teeth clench immediately at hearing the unholy last name, and the air leaving his mouth between his lips makes an odd, hissing noise. His grip on his radio tightens, the pads of his fingers whitening. It’s a beat, two beats, before Hyuck lets up on the thing he has in his hands, sighing with mild dejection.

“Jaemin only moved here right before high school,” Donghyuck rationalizes, though the darkness behind his pupils lets Jeno know that he isn’t happy about being reasonable. “And we never really talk about the thing with Doyoung. I guess he either didn’t register that they’re related or he thinks our hatred is only over the class bullshit Johnny pushes on us whenever he sees us. I’m surprised you never told him the whole story, though - you two are as close as brothers.”

“What, you jealous?” Jeno teases on instinct, mainly aiming his witticism at the last phrase Hyuck had uttered. His cousin rolls his eyes once again, nudges his shoulder once again. Jeno grins, dropping his gaze to his hands. 

“It isn’t that I wanted to keep it from Jaemin - it just never came up. He hates Johnny, too, but it isn’t in the same way as us. I guess I’ll explain it tonight - we’ve got an early shift at the garage tomorrow, as it is.” 

“Let me guess,” Donghyuck sighs. “You start at 5?”

“Damn straight.” Jeno smiles sadly. “We aren’t kids anymore, Hyuckie, are we?”

“No sir,” Donghyuck smiles back, running a thumb over the radio’s buttons. “But goddamn, does adulthood suck when you don’t even have time to be with your family. Speaking of, where’s that idiot older brother of mine?”

“I heard that, you asshat!” Jeno looks up just in time to see Mark box Donghyuck’s ears, albeit as gently as possible. Still, the youngest Lee winces in pain, whining at the sudden attack. 

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” Jeno notes, grinning up at his older cousin. “Didn’t hear you come in. How much did you hear?”

“Came in through the back. If you’re talking about whatever is happening in the kitchen, then nothing. If you’re talking about your explanation of whatever is happening in the kitchen, then everything. You two are not observant in any way, shape, or form - I’ve been here for a couple of minutes. I agree, by the way - you should tell Jaemin about it.”

“Tell Jaemin about what?”

Jeno, Donghyuck, and Mark all turn their heads simultaneously to see Jaemin and Renjun walk in, the former balancing the meatloaf on a tray and the latter holding a stack of plates, knives, and forks. Mark, who’s already standing anyways, leans over, grabbing some of the cutlery to ease up Renjun’s load. Jaemin sets the tray down on the floor after kicking aside the tools Jeno’d been using on the radio, and once he straightens up, he looks down at his best friend expectantly. 

Jeno meets Jaemin’s gaze, takes note of the annoyance that’s still etched across Renjun’s features, and sighs. He runs a hand down his face before looking up again, this time meeting everyone’s eyes individually. Finally, he asks what he thinks is most important of all before starting on his spiel.

“When are the kids getting here?”

♕ ♕ ♕

Chenle and Jisung have to convince their respective parents that, yes, they have in fact completed all of their homework and studied for all their upcoming tests, before they’re allowed to head over to the Lees’ house for dinner. Both boys - the only two still left in high school, both juniors - come over in no time at all, seeing as they live in the houses on either side of Jeno’s. 

“Why the fuck are we having family dinner?” Chenle asks, voice booming as he walks in without any prior announcement. Jisung, who’s trailing right behind him, quietly shuts and locks the door.

“Jaemin fucked up,” Renjun says, right at the same time as Mark responds with a “Because I said so.”   Jisung and Chenle share a look - each with an eyebrow raised in confusion and mild anticipation - before sitting down, Jisung on the right of Jaemin and Chenle right beside Hyuck. Jaemin immediately ruffles the youngest boy’s hair, pairing it with a ‘You’re doin’ good in school, right? Good with all those books ‘n’ shit?’, to which Jisung, as always, nods while trying to dodge Jaemin’s next loving attack. Out of the seven men and boys currently having dinner in the house, only Mark and Renjun have their high school diplomas.

Jeno was so close to living a different life. He does his best not to think about what could have been. Instead, he starts talking, commanding everyone’s attention in the way only he can. 

“We think it’s… time we talked about Doyoung.” Jeno lets the words settle, resting against their skin before seeping into their bones. He sees Chenle visibly shudder, Donghyuck resting a soothing palm against his younger friend’s upper back. Renjun lets out a heavy sigh, and Jisung bites at the inside of his cheek to keep himself from making the sad, choked noise he certainly was about to let out. 

Jaemin, for his part, says nothing, only waiting patiently in a way that’s become his signature. Jeno thinks there’s nobody in the world more caring than Jaemin, sometimes, and his best friend never ceases to prove him right. 

“Doyoung’s my older brother’s best friend - you remember Taeyong, right? Yeah, he’s Taeyong’s best friend.” Mark explains, looking straight at Jaemin once everyone seems to have recovered from the mild shock. It’s understandable, of course - they never talk about Doyoung. It’s been years, and not once has The Incident come up. 

There’s always a time for everything, Jeno supposes. 

“Does this have anything to do with why Taeyong’s in jail?” Jaemin’s question is tentative at best, but Jeno can see that he’s just piecing things together in his mind. All six of the other boys nods simultaneously, murmuring affirmative answers as they do. 

“About five years ago, Johnny, Taeyong, Doyoung, and, uh… what’s his name? Nakamoto, or whatever, him... The four of them were fucking inseparable, did everything together. Johnny’s parents are known classists and elitists and whatever other -ists exist, but Johnny never seemed to be that way. Doesn’t matter, anyways. Rich kids are all the same in the end.” Donghyuck speaks this time, shedding more light as the story unfolds. The bitterness in his voice is highly evident, but nobody can blame him - they all know what it’s like to be ridiculed, pariahed because of poverty. All seven of them had forsaken the idea of trust ages ago.

“One night, Johnny and Yuta went out and got halfway to blind drunk at some bar they weren’t supposed to be at. Yuta at least went and decided to walk home instead of driving his car back, but Johnny didn’t give a fuck. ‘Course, he hit something almost immediately after getting in the damn thing, but he was too fuckin’ pussy to check and see what had happened.” Renjun tacks on after Donghyuck, adding on the next part of the infamous, unfortunate tale. Chenle is the next to speak. 

“He was near a phone booth, so he called Doyoung to come help him. Doyoung and Taeyong both hurried to help their friend, figuring he must’ve gotten hurt, only to find that he’d- he’d…”

“That he’d hit and killed the son of the mayor at the time,” Hyuck finishes, noticing how Chenle hesitates to go on. “Johnny had called the cops right after calling Doyoung, and the pigs got there not a minute or two after my - Mark and my - brother and Doyoung did. They immediately assumed one of them had been driving, and then assumed that the car had been stolen from Johnny rather than being Johnny’s itself. Fucking Suh never clarified, only stood by while his friends got hauled off. They knocked my big brother on Grand Theft Auto. Seven years for a crime he didn’t fucking commit. Still, at least we get to visit him every week.”

“They took in Doyoung in on manslaughter - not even vehicular manslaughter. He pleaded guilty to it because he knew they’d charge Taeyong with it if he didn’t, and Taeyong was looking after the rest of us - Renjun included - at the time. We don’t have any fucking parents, and Doyoung knew it. He’s already done five years, but he’s spending the next decade of his life in a federal super max, and we aren’t allowed to see him. Poor thing - Taeyong ended up getting jailed, too. Doyoung couldn’t’ve have known. Don’t know if he knows now, even.” Jeno finishes the story, voice quivering with rage and the few unshed tears that always accompany his thoughts about the huge miscarriage of justice his family and friends have faced. Taeyong’s room is still the same as it was five years prior, untouched. 

“Johnny was a witness in both cases, and he took the stand against them, saying they really did do what the cops said they did,” Jisung finishes, voice soft but emotionally charged. “My mom and Chenle’s mom stepped in as best they could to take care of Mark, Renjun, Jeno, and Hyuck afterwards until Mark got grown, but I just know it isn’t the same as Taeyong.”

“Your moms are angels,” Mark responds, smiling kindly at the two youngest members of their ragtag group. “They saved our lives. Of course, they wouldn’t have had to do so if…”

“If Johnny Suh hadn’t ruined them first.” Jeno completes the thought, Donghyuck and Renjun nodding in agreement. Jaemin says nothing, only looking each of them in the eyes earnestly. 

He gets it, Jeno decides. The rest of them must see this as well. 

After dinner, when Jeno goes to the bathroom to brush before sleeping, he finds a thoroughly sodden piece of paper stuck to the bottom of the basin. It takes him a moment to realize what it is - the sharpie has bled into one large blob. Jeno smiles to himself before getting to work cleaning it up.

He scrapes your phone number off of his sink with his bare nails and sleeps easier that night than he has in a long while. 

♕ ♕ ♕

Day Two: May 26, 1957

Jeno’s always been good with time. It’s a gift, though it’s rare he acknowledges it: being able to more-or-less accurately tell the time without ever looking at a clock is hardly the kind of superpower people dream about. 

You leave work at around 3 p.m. - Jeno knows this because he’s out in front of the garage, sat on the hood of Jaemin’s rusty pickup truck nursing a ham sandwich when you walk out of Kim’s, unbuttoning your uniform’s top few buttons as you find your brother’s waiting car. He’s too far away to hear the words you exchange with Johnny, but he watches as you glare into the Chevy for an excruciatingly long amount of time before heaving a sigh and re-buttoning your shirt. 

Jeno doesn’t watch as the two of you drive away, but he doesn’t have to. Johnny always drives like he deserves more respect on the road than his car does, and it boils the younger man’s blood more than anything. After all, Jeno’s always been able to count on machines. People? Not so much. Cars respect him, so he respects them. 

He finishes the sandwich, immediately replacing it with an unlit cigarette. ‘Oral fixation’, Donghyuck had smirked at him one night ages ago, only to have gotten a shoe thrown at him by Renjun. Jeno can’t say that his cousin is wrong, but he’ll die before he lets Hyuck know that. He thinks back to the morning, when he’d left to come to work. He’d only seen Jaemin and nobody else, and that was just because Jaemin had been his ride. 

Speaking of Jaemin- he’d been right: you’re pretty. You’ve always been pretty, but Jeno tries to ignore it. Nobody related to the scum of the Earth Johnny Suh himself can be beautiful both inside and out - he’s never been more sure of anything. Such a thought process might be unfair, sure, but he reckons it’s better that he avoid you altogether rather than get caught up like his family members had. That’s how life goes: you hunt or get hunted. 

Jeno will be damned if he ever finds himself being the prey again. 

Jess drops by at around 4:15, no necessity behind her visit. They don’t do anything, not this time, though Jeno does have to force himself to stop imagining her lipstick leaving marks in places the sun can’t see, his fingers leaving bruises along her skin. Jaemin raises an eyebrow when he sees them talking, though he doesn’t say anything, only tossing Jess his pack of Camels. It’s only got one cig left in it, so Jeno lights it and puts it to her lips. She blows out a ring of smoke before he takes a drag from it himself, his fourth smoke of the day.

“You should apply for a dealership job or something,” Jess says at around 4:30, and Jeno’s now hyper-aware of her reason for visiting. He scoffs, handing the cigarette back to her for good. It’s suddenly the most unappetizing thing in the world. She notices his expression, but slogs on anyways, hoping that she’ll get through to him. “I’m serious! You’re smart, Jen, real smart. You could do worse than sellin’ cars to crackpots in suits. You’d make more cash, too.” 

Her drawl only comes back to her when she’s talking to her childhood friends, and Jeno supposes it’s an unwitting act of classism. They don’t ‘speak good’, as Jaemin would teasingly put it, but they have heart. It’s something that’s hard to find in people who have more money. Jess has grown up like them, yes, but in some ways she’s no longer part of the world Jeno’s forced to live in. It’s a world where he’s got family and friends in jail, where his own brothers - he almost never calls them his cousins, because they’re brothers if he’s ever had any - have to work two jobs just to make sure all of them get by, where their friends have to do the same. Jess has a stable job now - kudos to her - and a rich boyfriend. She’s set for as long as she can hope to be.

She’s okay with doing up the hair of ladies who sit idly and gossip about the ‘filthy poors’ in the south side of town. Jeno can hardly look rich folks in the eyes without gritting his teeth into dust. He’s well aware that they are not the same. 

“Why this sudden interest in my career?” Regardless, he only questions her coolly, unwilling to start an argument that won’t find an end any time soon. There’s no telling when a car will come in and Jess will have to leave so the boys can do their work, and, besides, this isn’t a discussion he wants to have. Not with Jess. Not with anyone. 

He’d been so, so close to going to college with a full ride. Jeno had dreams once. He’d been a fool to even think of possessing such intangible commodities. He doesn’t have any anymore.

“I just… you’re brainy as hell. It’s a shame seeing you as a grease monkey when you could do more with your life, is all. I mean well, Jen, you know I do.” Her eyes are wide in earnestness, and Jeno can’t help but sigh. It’s not Jess’ fault he’s a realist, that he’s lost opportunities before. Before he can say anything in response, though, probably breaking her heart just a little bit in the process, Jaemin pipes in. 

“If I have to drop him off at a dealership everyday in the hunk o’ junk I drive while he’s dressed up in a three-piece suit, I’ll hang myself using a chain of grease rags. Besides,” He chuckles, tilting his head at his best friend. “Who’ll keep my sorry ass company here at the shop?”

A corner of Jeno’s mouth lifts up immediately at the save, and it’s all he can do to shrug and gesture towards his best friend in agreement. Jess rolls her eyes before darting her gaze between the two men, and once she realizes that she really won’t get anywhere with either of them, she only sighs and shakes her head, dropping the idea for good… for now. 

“That’s not the only reason you came here.” Jeno states, keeping an eye out for any potential customers. It’s a Sunday, though, so he doubts many people will come by. Church hasn’t been out for long - he knows this for sure because Mark never fails to attend, no matter how heavy his university course load gets and let alone how many hours during the week he’s had to work. He’s the only one currently pursuing a higher education, and Jeno thinks that he might be the only one tenacious enough to do so. 

It’s a shame - Jeno’d been real smart in school. So had Hyuck. They both know Mark beats himself up everyday for being the only one of the Lees who’ll get a Bachelor’s, but they both also know that he’s least likely to jeopardize his education. If anyone deserves college, it’s Mark. 

“How’d you guess?” Jess draws the mechanic out of his thoughts, and he blinks rapidly before orienting himself back in reality. His smirk returns - Jeno thinks he might use it as a facade too much at this point - and he can only laugh. 

“I didn’t - it was a shot in the dark. What’s up?” 

Jess opens her mouth to speak, but is cut off by Jaemin, who doesn’t realize she’s about to talk. Jeno’s best friend tosses him the beat up truck’s keys in a perfect arc, throwing him a well-meaning grin while he’s at it. 

“We won’t get much work today,” Jaemin states as Jeno catches the keys nimbly. “I’ll walk down to Church today, haven’t been in a while. Might be nice.”

“If you’re gonna go every three months at most, what’s the point of goin’ at all?” Jess asks, only mildly peeved at having been interrupted. Her grin is sunny, though, and Jaemin knows that she’s just teasing. A friend of Jeno’s is a friend of his; the vice versa also tends to ring true. 

“Unlike this one over here,” Jaemin jabs a thumb out towards Jeno. “I still believe. That, and I figured I’d walk Mark home. Don’t get to see him too often, y’know?”

“Hey- “ Jeno starts, stopping immediately as Jess waves him off with one hand. 

“Don’t mind him, he’s just disillusioned with everything he can’t see. Catholic Church included. Of course, whenever his grandparents are in town, he still pretends.” Jess explains sagely, much to Jaemin’s amusement and Jeno’s disgruntlement. The latter rolls his eyes, raising the hand enclosing the keys in a wave goodbye as Jaemin pushes himself off of the wall he’s leaning against. 

“Funny how Mark’s a Protestant and so is Hyuck - kind of, I don’t think he’s super religious at this point - but you’re a Catholic.” Jaemin notes, and Jeno shrugs for the second time in one day. 

“Mark & Hyuck’s dad was a Pastor, my dad converted to Catholicism for shits and giggles when he was, like, 15. They might be brothers, but they aren’t the same. I was never the religious disgrace of the family, though,” Jeno notes, a small, sadder smile replacing his grin momentarily. “Not after Taeyong said he’s an atheist. Anyways, Mark’s probably on his way home already, if you leave now you might be able to catch him.” 

Jaemin knows better than to press, only nodding, raising an eyebrow for a split second, and turning on his heel before easing himself into a jog. He’s still dressed in his work clothes, and his hair is as shaggy as ever, and Jeno thinks churchgoers might faint upon seeing him. He also knows that Jaemin doesn’t mind. 

“Now you,” Jeno looks at Jess once Jaemin is out of sight. “What’s up?”

Jess’ shoulders droop immediately, and for a moment she looks so forlorn that she doesn’t even look like herself. The expression passes as quickly as it had come into view, and Jeno accepts the nonchalant smile she gives him like it’s what she means to project outward.

“John’s been secretive lately.”

She says so much more with her eyes than she does with her mouth. Jeno sighs, tilting his head as he does to survey his friend for a moment. Jess is conflicted, that much is evident, and Jeno doesn’t quite know why. Nevertheless, he’s always made sure to keep his head out of other people’s business. He won’t change now. 

“If you’re worried that he’s cheating, why don’t you talk to him about it?” Jeno says it like it’s easy, like Jess isn’t unfaithful to her own boyfriend. His eyes dart out towards the street again - nobody’s coming in for repairs. Jess lets out a huff of air, and Jeno realizes she must think his words are sarcastic rather than as earnest as he’s meant them to be. 

“I’m being ridiculous, I know, it’s just- I just… I don’t know. It isn’t even that he’s acting super different, he’s just being more… conspiratorial? With his friends? It’s more of a feeling than anything else, I guess. I must sound fucking insane.” She runs her fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her face even as she casts her eyes towards the ground. She may be trying to reassure herself that she isn’t seeing things, but it’s called a sixth sense for a reason. 

“You have good intuition,” Jeno rushes to assure her that she isn’t losing her mind. “I hope you’re wrong, but… maybe you and your boy toy need to have a good talk. From both sides.”

“Yeah,” Jess responds, not knowing what else to say. “Yeah. I just had to say it out loud to someone that wasn’t my reflection, I think. I’ll figure it out. Anyways, I have a couple regulars dropping by at the salon today, so I should probably- ” 

“Go to work,” Jeno cuts in, his smile forgiving. Of what, neither of them are sure. “We have all the time in the world to talk. Bye, Jess.”

“Bye, Jen.” Is the response he gets, and then Jess is on her way. The day is silent again, now that Jaemin and Jess are both gone, but Jeno finds that he doesn’t really mind it. It’s not so bad- with no customers, no coworkers, and no friends around, Jeno gets to sit and think.

That’s what he does best. 

♕ ♕ ♕

It’s 6:27 in the evening when it happens.

For once in his life, Jeno checks his wristwatch. He isn’t sure why the sudden compulsion to actually know the time overcomes him, but he chalks it up to ‘dying from boredom’ and thinks nothing else of it. After all, the rags won’t clean themselves and the shop’s workbenches are only as neat as their owners. Jeno isn’t the most put together person alive, but he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t mind mess. 

So he cleans, even when he’s the only one who’s doing it. 

He’s in the midst of organizing his wrenches in size order when a familiar red Bel Air glides into the diner’s parking lot, top down with Johnny Suh’s loud laughter audible even from across the street. The music blaring from his car radio is only almost as loud as he is, and that’s saying something, because Johnny takes up every space he’s ever in. Yuta Nakamoto is beside him like he always is, though he’s more reserved than usual. Jeno does his best not to pay them any heed, but it’s difficult when his own responsibilities are mind-numbingly boring at the moment. He’ll take any entertainment he can get, even if it’s Johnny fucking Suh being the true neighborhood nuisance once again. 

Funny how people look at Jeno funny when he walks down streets minding his own business, but they don’t say jackshit about a Suh kid blasting Elvis in public right before dinner time. 

But that’s neither here nor there. 

Jeno actually manages to finish his tool-sorting and is getting ready to finally, finally pack up when the music stops. Johnny must’ve parked. The burgeoning night is eerily silent, and the young mechanic pauses what he’s doing - making sure he has everything, mostly - because the world seems like it’s holding its breath. Just as he’s about to relax, slump his shoulders, and get back to his own work, he hears it. 

Of course he hears it. It’s impossible to miss. 

The scream shatters the silence into a million pieces, startling Jeno so hard he almost drops Jaemin’s car keys. He’s rushing out of the garage before he can think, and it’s moments later that he sees none other than Johnny Suh and Yuta Nakamoto rushing out of the diner, stuffing what look like pistols into the waistbands of their jeans. There’s cold, hard cash grasped in each of their hands, and Jeno cannot, for the life of him, comprehend what he’s seeing.

He makes brief eye contact with Johnny Suh, and the recognition in the older’s narrowed eyes freezes Jeno’s blood. There’s no time to ponder this, though - not when Johnny pulls out and rushes away within seconds, his car roaring to life on the town’s streets. Jeno’s just witnessed a robbery - a robbery by one of the richest and most powerful people in the area. Jeno’s just witnessed a robbery, and the criminal himself is aware of this.

As he watches the owner of Kim’s run out, hands on his head in panic and disbelief, all Jeno can think about is how Johnny Suh is going to try to shut him up. Jeno is now the star witness to a criminal act. There’s no way he’ll sleep tonight.

He leaves City Motors with duller eyes than he ever has, his workstation spotless and mind swallowed in darkness. 

At least now he knows why Johnny’s been weird towards Jess lately. 

♕ ♕ ♕

Jaemin drops Mark off at the Lee household with a parting hug, clasping their hands together in a high five before pulling each other into their chests and clapping each other on the back. Each other. Jaemin might be the ‘newest’ addition to their band of seven, but he doesn’t feel any different from the rest of them. They’re his brothers, and he’ll always have their backs. They’ll always have his.

Mark invites him inside, but Jaemin declines - he’s out of chewing gum, of all things, and he knows the sketchy convenience store by the alley near 7th Street always sells at half price on Sundays. He bids the older man goodbye again, throwing him a lax two-finger salute and a small smirk before turning on his heels and jamming his hands into his jean pockets, a stance that does nothing to help his already awful posture. 

He whistles all the way down to the store - Kun’s Konvenience - mostly because he can’t get the tune Hyuck is always humming out of his head, but also because he feels almost truly happy. Sure, his future looks like it’ll lie in the City Motors garage for the rest of his life, and sure, maybe he shouldn’t step foot inside Church - the dirty looks had been telling today - but that doesn’t dampen his mood. The sun is shining, the sky is a brilliant blue. Kun’s is selling gum for cheap, and Jaemin’s in need of it. He rounds the final corner and the short, squat red brick building he’s looking for comes into view. 

His hand is closing in on the handle of the store’s front door when another, slightly larger, hand places itself on top of his. 

Jaemin barely has time to step back when a fist connects with his jaw. Through his swimming vision, he sees Johnny Suh raise a pistol, and he doesn’t have the time to raise his hands before the butt of the gun collides with the side of his head. The last thing Jaemin remembers before passing out entirely is the ugly, ugly sneer across the older man’s face as he glares down at him. 

“Sorry. Blame your meddling friend.” Johnny spits out, placing a well-aimed kick in Jaemin’s side as his finale. 

 ♕ ♕ ♕

It’s 8:32 at night when the landline rings. Mark’s studying and both Donghyuck and Renjun are out at work, so Jeno’s the only one available to pick up the phone. Typically, he’d be wary of doing so - the neighborhood elementary schoolers have only recently discovered the cheap thrills that come with prank calling - but something compels him to hear out whoever’s on the other end.

There’s a crackling noise, and what sound like hushed whispers, and this goes on for so long that Jeno’s about to either yell something about working on homework instead of pranking or just hang up without a word when the other person finally speaks. Jeno sets down the dish he’s washing, pays no mind to the way it clatters into the otherwise-empty sink when Johnny fucking Suh finally opens his damned mouth. 

“Caught an eyeful down at City Motors today, didn’t you?” He asks, casually, as if there are no underlying threats hiding beneath his overly honeyed words. As if he isn’t the one who’s committed a crime, as if Jeno’s the one with the gun and the money he never earned. Bile rises almost automatically in the younger man’s throat, but he can’t bring himself to put the phone down anymore. It’s as if he’s stuck. 

“What do you want?” Jeno manages to hiss out when the urge to vomit recedes, and the way Johnny chuckles in response sends chills down Jeno’s spine. There’s something sickeningly sinister about the situation they’re caught in, and Jeno knows that he’s unprepared for when the other shoe drops. His mind can’t even work properly, not when there are so many ways for this to go. 

“Police will be at your door tomorrow morning, looking to arrest the Kim’s robber. I’ll have given them a helpful tip by then, of course. Wouldn’t be good of me to know who it is and not let the local law enforcement know. Also… left you a present in the alleyway by that one convenience store your kind go to. Think it goes by the name of… Jaemin?”

Jeno’s blood runs cold at the mention of his best friend’s name. Johnny doesn’t stop speaking. 

“He was real easy to drag by his feet after I got him in the head, though getting rid of the trail of blood by the store was a little harder. I’m about half sure I left him breathing, but-”

The landline slips out of Jeno’s hand, no active effort made to put it down. Everything suddenly feels as if it’s in slow motion, as if his muscles are made of lead and his tongue is made of sandpaper, but he hears himself calling out for Mark before his own actions register in his mind. He must sound frantic, because he can hear his older cousin practically sprint down the stairs even through the haze his mind is in. Jaemin. Jaemin’s hurt. Jaemin’s bleeding, Jaemin’s in pain. 

“What? What the fuck happened- Who was on the phone- Jeno? What happened?” Mark’s voice is panicked enough, rushed enough, to shake Jeno out of his stupor. His anguish moves aside, making way for rightly placed rage as he meets his family member’s eyes. When he speaks, his voice is choked, barely restrained and yet so, so pained. 

“We need to go to Kun’s,” Jeno states, swallowing the growing lump in his throat. He can’t cry, not now, not when a clock might be ticking. He hasn’t cried in ages. He can’t cry now. Jaemin needs him. He can’t waste his time crying. “We need to go to Kun’s.” He repeats.

“It’s Jaemin.”

[demoneyesanddamagedsouls]

Sparring Partners

Chapter 1: Office Politics

A/N: Oh my goodness hi! This is chapter one of quite a few of my first ever fanfic starring my absolute favourite Pedro Pascal’s Agent Whiskey. I feel like I haven’t seen enough fics with him in it and I thought I better write one myself. Feedback and comments are so welcome, I’d love to hear your thoughts, and if you’d like to be tagged for the upcoming chapters just let me know! xxx

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x F! Reader

I have also just created a playlist for ya’ll to listen to while reading. I hope it gets you even more invested! ✨COCKY COWBOY PLAYLIST✨

Summary: You and Agent Whiskey are long time rivals. As Statesman agents you both have been put up for the same promotion and this mission is your final chance to prove yourself. Have you got what it takes?

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Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Slight Language

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CHAPTER 1: Office Politics

You and Tequila circle each other in the ring, moving expertly as the new recruits looked on, watching your every move. Darting forward you catch him with a sharp jab under the ribs, startling him. He makes his move aiming a strong blow at your jaw, but you duck away with seconds to spare moving just out of his range. Tequila turns around and smiles at you gesturing with his hand for you to come closer. You lunge at him aiming another devastating blow to his stomach, but he knows your play. Sidestepping your punch, he grabs hold of your arm throwing you to the ground and completely winding you. Your eyes go fuzzy as you try to regain your strength. You have to think on your feet. As he’s smiling at the crowd of recruits all of them cheering him on, a grin spreads across your face.

Idiot.

Lightening quick you lift your torso and wrap your legs around Tequila’s shoulder and chest, pulling him to the ground with such momentum it takes all the breath out of his lungs and he wheezes. You quickly throw your legs over his stomach, straddling him and holding him down.

“Alright, alright Vodka! I yield!” He laughs as he realises, he’s been defeated. Again.

You lift off him and help him to his feet. “That’s why you never celebrate before you know you’ve won.” You say addressing the recruits. You heard some snickers from the back, no doubt at Tequila’s expense at his quite sudden defeat.

“Now after Tequila catches his breath…” You chuckle, “we’ll start running through some of the moves we just demonstrated. Its important to tackle different opponents to learn how…” You trail off as Champ enters the training facility.

“I see you are all enjoying your training” Says Champ, his voice a booming presence in the large room, “a little more than I expected.” He smiles over at you and Tequila, “Unfortunately I need to steal Vodka away from you for a short while.”

He nods over at Tequila. Tequila responds in kind, then turns to the recruits. “Alright everyone let’s split off into pairs and practice some of those moves.” You hear him say as you walk out of the room.

You walk down the hallway next to Champ towards the elevator. Stepping in Champ leans forward and pushes the top button. We were heading for the main conference room. As the elevator clunks to life, you slowly leave the basement level and emerge into the bright glow of the afternoon sun. The glass capsule of the elevator allowing a full view across the Statesman distillery, a place you had come to call your home after 8 amazing years of working as an agent. You reminisce as you look out across the large estate, thinking about how you first got here. You were a young runaway, freshly 18, out of luck and out of money. To make ends meet you had become a great pool hustler… and an excellent thief. You were light fingered, quick and if you ever got caught you knew how to defend yourself. However, one day you picked the wrong pocket.

***

Seeing an easy score as you passed through the local fete, an older gentleman decked out in a dashing suit with a matching black Stetson, his wallet practically hanging out of his jacket pocket. You purposefully shoulder past him knocking him lightly, using the opportunity to sneak your hand into his jacket, relieving him of his wallet. Apologising quickly, you continue along, mindful to keep your head down so as not to be spotted later when the gentleman finally realised what had happened. As you rounded the corner to move away from the large crowd you stumbled headfirst into a tall foreboding man in a white Stetson. What is it with the cowboy look in these parts? You thought to yourself.

Attempting to move past him you suddenly feel the grip of a hand on your shoulder. “Now hold on there little one. Just what do you think your doin’?” The stranger drawled as he kept a firm hold on you.

“Nothing,” you said keeping your eyes trained on him as you continued, “Just lookin’ for my parents is all.”

“And what’s that wallet in your hand got to do with finding your parents?” He questions, a small knowing smirk creeping across his face.

You feel panic start to rise through your chest as you realise you might not be able to get out of this, you’re boxed in and the man currently holding you is not someone you think you can beat in hand-to-hand combat. You needed to think on your feet. Standing next to him, resting all your weight on your feet you quickly sweep your right leg forward and then straight backwards, the full force of your body colliding into the back of his knees causing him to crumple onto the floor, releasing his grip on you. He reaches for your ankles, but you see his movements just in time to tumble out of the way. Back on your feet you dash down the path behind the fete tents in a desperate attempt to flee.

You smiled to yourself as you wove your way along, hidden from the hustle and bustle of the fete. You got away you thought as you turned around, only to see the stranger once more. Your face distorting in disbelief and then suddenly everything went black.

Never celebrate before you know you’ve won…

…

You woke to find yourself sat in a soft leather chair in an office lined with rich mahogany bookshelves filled to the brim with books. Swivelling around you find a large window looking out onto a spectacular evening sky, the sun just setting, lighting up the clouds with beautiful orange and purple hues. Shit. How long have I been out? What the fuck happened? You swivel round again to find the door to the office, realising you can hear voices behind it.

“Why on earth did you bring her back here Tequila?”

“I thought she’d make a fine recruit.” That voice you recognised, the stranger from the fete. “She managed to take me down swiftly with no training at all. Not to mention she managed to elude your notice when she grabbed your wallet straight out of your jacket.” You heard a chuckle. So, the other voice must be the gentleman you stole from.

“Well, I’m inclined to agree with you Tequila.” A third voice chimed in, “We’re always on the lookout for new talent and she definitely has potential.”

What on earth had you gotten yourself into?

The three gentlemen entered the office to find you staring directly at them, your fight or flight response kicking in. The panicked look on your face evident as your muscles tensed up.

“Woah, woah, there sweetheart, we’re not here to hurt you.” The older gentleman spoke, “In fact we’re here to offer you a job.” He smiles at you giving you a long hard look up and down, sizing you up.

You look back at the stranger who you now understood was named Tequila, the one who obviously brought you here. “There are better ways of doing that other than knocking a person out cold.” You shoot directly at him with a distasteful glare.

A loud chuckle erupted from the older man at your response. “That’s certainly true young lady.” Turning to address Tequila and the other man in the room, “You’re right she definitely has some fight in her.”

“Am I being held against my will? Or am I allowed to leave?” You shoot back, confusion still evident in your voice.

“Feel free to be on your way.” Grunted the man under the black Stetson, a bruised ego evidently still weighing on him. You smiled at the thought.

“You’re certainly able to leave if that’s what you’d like,” Said the older man giving him a hard stare, “No one will force you to stay. But I hope you’ll hear us out on that job offer I spoke of. I think its high time we introduced ourselves gentlemen. My names Champ, this is Agent Tequila,” Tequila dips his hat to you in response, “and this is Agent Whiskey.”

“Agent?” You responded, surprise registering on your face.

“Yes, Agent. This is Statesman, a secret independent intelligence agency.” Your mouth opens in shock as you listen to Champs explanation. “You’re currently sitting in my office in our Head Quarters in the fine state of Kentucky. And it seems that you may have what it takes to become an agent here if you’d be interested. It’ll take a lot of training and hard work but it’s a very rewarding path to take in life.” You brain running over everything Champ was saying at a 100 miles per hour. “So… what do you think? Are you interested in my offer?”

Purpose, that is what you had been searching for your whole life. Although, it seemed it had found you instead. “Absolutely.” You smiled, what had you got to lose?

***

“We’ve got a new op we need you on.” Champ says as you walk towards the conference room snapping you out of your thoughts. “We’ll run through the specifics when we get there. Now just remember that teamwork is vital here in Statesman and don’t you forget that…” You give Champ a quizzical look. As you open the doors you realise why, finding yourself face to face with the one man in Statesman who knew just how to get under your skin. Agent Whiskey. “Hey there sugar.”

Your confusion quickly changes to distaste as you stare up at the agent, a forced smile plastered across his lips under his black Stetson. His deep brown eyes smouldered with the same distaste you felt. Ever since your fateful first meeting he had disliked you, making sure to be nuisance to you whenever he was able. It’s not like you made it any better, you constantly made an effort to show him up whenever you were competing. Always reminding him of that day you first met especially in front of the other agents, a conversation which never failed to make Whiskey angry, a deep flush making its way across his cheeks, caused by anger or embarrassment you never knew. All you knew was that you loved to tease him and best him whenever you could. You both were professional when you needed to be, always putting the mission first, but your rivalry was always there.

“Hey there Whiskey,” You said through gritted teeth. “So… Champ what is this op that requires Whiskey and I’s expertise?” Directing your question to Champ with a quizzical brow, curious as to what type of mission would require the two of you specifically.

“Well, it seems we have a potential problem right here in our own backyard.” Champ starts as he gestures for the two of you to sit down. As the three of you take your seats, Champ at the head of the table, Whiskey and you across the table from each other, he continues. “We noticed that a few private hospitals and medical centres in the area have been bought up by a company that we had been keeping tabs on called CleanPlanet. They have been managing to stay out of the news, but the company has recently been responsible for some very dangerous drug trials which resulted in a large number of casualties.” He lets out an audibly frustrated sigh. “They have been paying people off and continuing to conduct these trials, and now they may just have the facilities to conduct them on a larger scale. I need the two of you to figure out what is going on, what they are testing at these facilities and what they are trying to achieve. You both have your own strengths that you bring to the table and I need both of you working different angles to get to the bottom of this mess.”

Champ turns to Whiskey, “I need you to infiltrate the higher ups of the company, find out who is running this operation and what they’re trying to accomplish. And Vodka,” He turns to you, “I need you to get a look into the hospitals, find out exactly what trials they’re running and what is happening to the patients of these tests. Make sure you both keep each other up to date on whats happening on your end so you both have all the information you need. Report back to me with any solid leads you have so we can figure out our next move. I need you both to work together on this one alright. So, remember to keep it civil.”

“Yes Champ.” You both say in unison.

“I’m glad to hear it.” He smiles, rolling his eyes. “I also need to tell you that I’ll be keeping a close eye on the both of you. I have thought long and hard about this and I plan on stepping down as the head of this organisation.” Shock registers on Whiskey’s and yours faces but Champ continues talking as if it was just another statement. “I’ve been working here and running this operation for most of my life and I’m gettin’ tired. I want to settle down with the misses on a nice ranch of my own to enjoy the time I have left with her, my kids, and my grandkids. Every minute of this job has been thrilling but I want to start stepping back and making time for my family. After much deliberation I believe one of the two of you would be the best fit for this position. So, consider this mission a final show of skills and strengths before I make my decision on who will be my replacement.”

Unable to wipe the surprise off your face you stutter, “T-Thank you for this opportunity Champ. Its an honour to be considered for this position… I won’t let you down.”

“Yes, thank you Champ it’s a real honour.” Whiskey says with a similar expression to yours evident on his face. For once he doesn’t exude the cocky energy he usually has.

Unfortunately, this doesn’t last long, as he turns to face you once more, a smirk forming on his lips. “Well then Vodka, it seems we have a challenge on our hands… May the best agent win.” You look deep into his eyes, a wicked glint behind them, his lips curled into a mischievous grin.

What an exciting challenge. I look forward to showing him who’s the boss. You think to yourself, an equally cheeky smile spreading across your face.

“Alright Whiskey… Let the games begin.”

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

[mightydragoon]

Darth Vader A+ Parenting.

While Darth Vader in canon ain’t exactly the nicest fellow, this is a Vader or Anakin who has no qualms getting what he wants and using any methods to do so. 

Or otherwise known as Darth Vader A+ Parenting. 

1.  to gain a son Russy

After falling into a trap laid by the Empire and being captured by two Inquisitors, Luke Skywalker wakes up in an unfamiliar room with an unfamiliar man watching over him.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25019218/chapters/60586045

2. No Time Like The Present PinkEasterEggs

In a Galaxy where Princess Leia Organa and Luke Vader have always known they were twins, a deadly discovery by their biggest enemy throws their entire lives upside down. Yet again.

Now on the run from the Empire, the Skywalker twins find it their mission to bring peace back to the Galaxy once more. And with Darth Vader on their trail, that mission is far more complicated than they originally believed.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24754825/chapters/59851300

(Note* Part  3 of the  Back To The Future series. Can be read as standalone) 

  3.  The Heir - SpellCleaver

Darth Vader just killed his master and learned a galaxy-changing truth: the child Palpatine adopted, the Imperial prince and heir, is actually Vader’s son, raised by Palpatine to torment him.

Meanwhile, Luke Palpatine just woke up from severe injuries he sustained in a Rebel attack to a galaxy where his father is dead, he is the Emperor, and the figure from all his childhood nightmares is acting suspiciously nice.

They figure it out from there.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24024442/chapters/57801529

4. Eclipse - SpellCleaver

Luke and Leia, the twin children of Darth Vader and heirs to the Emperor himself, defect. When they do, it's naturally a dream come true for the Rebellion and the mother they never knew, one that's been a long time in the making.

But they have to get to that point first.

Or: Darth Vader unwittingly sends his children down the merry path of treason... and the ugly, painful fallout.

(Note* Obviously) 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18221840/chapters/43109123

5. Walking the Line Between - aradian_nights

After an emotional confrontation on Bespin, Luke Organa has been captured, and his newfound twin Leia Skywalker will not stop until she has rescued him. Even if that means murdering their own father.

( How the Other Half Lives  -   aradian_nights) 

(Note* the entire series is this but more in particular the recent additions, I’ve already discussed this story multiple times before so you know the drill )

6.  The kidnappings of a Sith Lord - maedre13

How a certain Sith Lord may or may not kidnap his rebel son. One-shots. Strongly inspired by sparklight´s “Where Our Intrepid Hero Doesn´t Get Away”.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10606992/chapters/23453241

(Note* not all these chapters are Vader at his worst but he isn’t exactly a top notch parent in them either) 

7. How to Save the World from its Heroes - stardustgirl

Being the Avatar’s—and Fire Lord’s—non-bending heir isn’t what Luke signed up for. He also didn’t sign up for an Agni Kai he can’t possibly win, or for getting dragged into a search for someone who can kill his own dad. Then again, someone has to bring the world back into balance, and if his dad won’t, then Luke might as well give it his best shot. After all, how much worse can things get?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24948487/chapters/60386875

(Note* Only started and already you can see Vader A+ Parenting in all its glory) 

8. your heart is full of stars and your hands full of shattered glass -victoriousscarf

Nineteen years ago, Vader took his children off Mustafar, and Palpatine raised them to be Sith, the perfect weapons he had been looking for.

Except the very eve of his greatest victory, the fully functional Death Star, Luke Skywalker defects to the floundering but growing Rebel Alliance. His sister follows because someone needs to watch out for that fool.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13242183/chapters/30290415

9.  Love of a daughter. - youngjusticewriter

"and yet, so far at least we have yet to figure out what you gain from this." It's a question as well as statement. A chance to explain, to come clean on why she - a unknown Sith- had assassinated they're precious, beloved Chancellor (what fools). But how could you come clean when there is so much blood on her hands? Never-mind the sins and blood on Vader and Luke's when her family had been alive.

When she answers it's not because she's announcing her transgressions in hope that her heavy, dirty soul might be saved. One couldn't repent when they didn't feel guilt in their sin.

"For the love of a daughter." Leia pauses and looks back at Anakin and thinks: I did this to avenge you. After thinking that Leia says one more thing - the last thing actually because she nothing else to say after this.

"And you should have been more careful electing your Chancellor. You never know who is Sith." This has double meaning but she's the only person who knows it.

And she's fine with that (no, she isn't).

Leia wonders if her younger self and Luke will ever become the monsters like her Luke had been and the monster she is.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10924239/chapters/24297558

10.  Literal Hell - TreeOfTime

Luke Lars is content as a Moisture Farmer with his father and mother... until two people come to find what was lost to them...

Then all hell broke lose

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22579066/chapters/53957833

(Note* oh dear lord Vader A+ Parenting in its full glory, a Sith Leia for flavour and a non force sensitive Luke. ) 

11.  Dynasty - Valerie_Vancollie: Co-authored by Rebecca Thomson aka Zekkers.

Hit in the leg by a stormtrooper's blaster bolt, Luke falls in the Death Star hanger bay and is unable to escape on the Falcon along with Han and Leia. During the subsequent interrogation, his true heritage is revealed and Vader instantly takes him to Coruscant, determined to reclaim the son the Jedi stole from him. But the glory of the Imperial capital belies its true nature, where politics and power are everything and anything is fair game in the never ending game to reach the top. Not lying, not betrayal, assassination, sabotage, blackmail, nor seduction. As he commences his Sith training, Luke must also learn the rules and etiquette of the Imperial Court if he is to survive as most of his enemies fight their battles with words and political maneuverings rather than military force. Yet, even as he struggles to gain his place within the Empire, Luke learns that his best friend has joined the Alliance...

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13111908/chapters/29997507

12. Fractured twists - Annessarose

Timelines are fickle things.

Every line is balanced precariously on the precipice. One shift, one twitch of a finger, one step in the wrong direction, and entire stories change. Lives flicker out, galaxies rise and fall, but the Force is always a constant.

Each moment is carefully balanced. We know how the Siege of Mandalore happened - how the former Jedi padawan Ahsoka Tano led her men into victory. How she defeated Maul in single combat and earned the loyalty of Lady Bo-Katan Kyrze. How she rode her ship too late to meet with Anakin Skywalker, and how the galaxy fell and burned under the hand of the Sith.

This is the way it could have gone if Obi-Wan had followed Ahsoka to Mandalore.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24158608

13. Runaway- Valerie_Vancollie

Co-authored by Rebecca Thomson aka Zekkers & a contest winner.

What if Luke had runaway from Tatooine and joined the Imperial Academy?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12976095

14. A Mother's Decision - Valerie_Vancollie

What if Padmé had brought Luke to Vader when Luke was only nine months old?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12915687

15. Descent into Darkness - Valerie_Vancollie

What if instead of waiting for Luke to come to him on Endor, Vader had gone for Luke and the others, capturing them while with the Ewoks?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12908223

16. Avenge and Conquer - arikylo

The Alliance has fallen into a very well laid trap and now Luke has no choice but to hand himself over to Vader. But what does the father have in store for the son? Can Luke handle the torture and the ruthless tactics of the Empire or will he be forced to surrender and embrace the dark side?

The struggle between the light and the dark is strenuous, relationships crumble and all is looking bleak for the Alliance.

Dark!AU set after ESB.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/3058115/chapters/6639581

17. The Terrorist - Seasider

High above Bespin in Cloud City, Vader chooses not reveal his identity and instead uses deceit to trick Luke into surrendering. The Dark Lord has a lot on his agenda, so he entrusts the breaking of his son to an Imperial interrogator, unaware that the man has an agenda of his own: revenge.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24810643/chapters/60006952

(Note* Dead Dove do not eat. Contains some reall fucked up shit) 

18. Consequences - treenahasthaal

An intense burst of light and a vicious blow to his left shoulder sent him spinning violently backward and he fell...

What if Luke hadn't made it off the Death Star immediately following Kenobi's death?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/809144/chapters/1527145

(Note* It’s also a boba fett/ luke) 

19. Instinct - treenahasthaal

There was something about the blond boy in the crowd of detainees that caught Commander Yarryn's attention. Something that pulled at his gut and told him there was more about this captive than met the eye. It was his duty to find out what it was the boy was hiding - and find it he would, for Yarryn was very good at his job.

12 weeks after the destruction of the Death Star.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/2185854/chapters/4785594

( Part 1 of the Invictus series) 

20. Child of Mine - Oneshotshipper

AU. Darth Vader discovers Leia at a young age. Barely managing to escape her father's clutches the first time, young Leia goes into hiding and becomes the Empire's most-wanted fugitive. If the second time comes, fate will not be as kind. Meanwhile, Darth Vader would tear apart the galaxy itself to possess and keep his child. The Dark Side seems to inevitably be the fate of the Skywalkers.

21. To Catch a Daughter, One must... - ftbprotocol

A variety of AU one-shots where in canon Leia stayed a secret, but in these stories did not. Because there needs to be more Leia and Vader fic!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12173637/chapters/27632673

22.  Daughter Over The Son - Keetajet

Work is inspired by ftbprotocol's work "To Catch a Daughter, One must..."

The moment where Darth Vader did not save his son. Instead, he will have his daughter.

Leia's future went downhill the moment she felt her brother die on the second Death Star, leading to their capture on Endor. Only she, Han, and Chewie survived the failed ground assault and they were restrained and being held at gun point.

She has a bad feeling about this.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25354183/chapters/61476130

23. Before the Emperor - SilverDaye

Luke is defeated and captured at Cloud City by Vader. He is then dragged before the Emperor. However Palpatine is dead. Luke's father is alive. And someone else holds the reigns to Vader and the Empire.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15950198/chapters/37196351

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Darth Vader's A+ parenting

Dark Anakin Skywalker

Sith Luke Skywalker

Imperial Luke Skywalker

Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader

Leia Organa & Darth Vader

Bad Parent Darth Vader

[gins-potter]

VA Ask meme:

6) Dhampir, Moroi, Human, Alchemist, Witch, or Strigoi?

21) Song(s) that remind you of a certain character?

6). ooof dhampir has to be the only correct answer right? obviously the superior species.

21). soi had to pull out my half-finished rose spotify playlist (soz i haven't done any other characters yet) for this one, and i'm so glad you asked because i'm sitting here cackling trying to remember why i added half these. here, appreciate my genius:

it's a long way to the top/ACDC - fairly certain this is for book 1 era rose when she first starts training with dimitri

just like fire/p!nk - i stand by this one

another one bites the dust/queen - i can't for the life of me remember the reasoning for this one but you know what i vibe with it for rose

girlfriend/avril lavigne - ......'nuff said

runaway/p!nk - staying with the belikovs era rose

those nights/bastille - can't take credit for this one bc i stole it from someone else's rose playlist but big looking for strigoi!dimitri vibes

and for the hell of it here's my two favourite romitri songs:

love will keep us together/captain and tennille - i always pictured rose walking down the aisle to an acoustic version of this song for some reason (seriously find an acoustic version on yt i love it)

can't take my eyes off you/frankie valli - first dance at their wedding (once again i just love this song don't question it)

yes i nearly always pick old songs for romitri just because it amuses me

[sophielovesbarnes]

Longing

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Angst and a bit of smut

Request: Hiya 😊 I'd love to request something with Bucky please! When they held him captive at Hydra he saw another prisoner (the reader) but he was still in the WS mindset, like not really caring. But once he escaped he started to remember her and he goes back to save her because he felt somethingforher? If that makes any sense lol thank you so much in advance ❤

Author note: Hey! I’m so sorry this took so long, but here it is, i hope you enjoy it,let me know what you think.

Requests are open. 

It’s the fifth night in a row he gets woken up by the same nightmare. He is back in Hydra. He’s on the chair, and his nightmare is filled with screams. The thing is that the screams he listens to are not his, they are someone else’s. He recognizes the screams; he knows he has heard them before, every time he replays them in his mind the memory of y/e/c eyes and soft y/s/c skin floods his mind.

Suddenly he finds himself longing for someone he barely remembers, and it steals all his concentration, he can’t focus, he can’t eat, or sleep, or aim, and it is driving him crazy.

How can he feel something so intense for someone he doesn’t know? 

He goes to the kitchen because he knows for a fact that he won’t be able to get any more sleep, so he drinks, because he hopes that vodka will numb the way he feels his chest rips apart, leaving a bleeding hole behind.

He has to find her; she has got to be real.

“I’m starting to believe you don’t sleep man.” Sam takes the bottle from his hands and stares at him. “Isn’t it a bit early to drink?”

Bucky snatches the bottle back from his hands and gives him a death glare.

“Piss off, shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

“We could ask you the same thing.” Steve adds.

He hesitates but after a few moments he gets to the decision that speaking about it may make things better.

“Can’t sleep.” Steve sits next to him and looks at him with attention. “I keep having the same nightmare, I’m with Hydra and I hear a girl scream, they are torturing her and I can’t do anything about it, and I want to do something, I really do, but I can’t.”

“I just keep thinking about her...” He takes a sip straight from the bottle and then continues. “What if she is real? What if she is not a product of my mind?”

“I hear you man, but we have wiped out every single Hydra facility, there was no girl.” 

“Yeah, I know.” He puts the bottle down, and he rubs his face. “It’s just, she feels so real.”

“Then let’s look for her, maybe she escaped, I mean, you made it out, maybe she did as well.” Steve adds.

“How do we find her?” 

“Same way we found you, we look into their files, we ask around, we find a trail and find her, what do you know about her? Name, age, anything?”

“No, I don’t remember anything, I remember her face, her eyes, but no name.”

“We’ll find a way, Buck, we will.” 

***

Your name comes to his mind one night, and it hits him the same way that waves hit rocks in the open ocean, it drains all the air from his lungs and leaves him heaving desperately trying to recover himself from it.

Y/N Y/L/N.

It echoes in his mind, over and over, the gale of emotions hitting him over and over again mercilessly.

Y/N Y/L/N. 

Y/N Y/L/N.

He remembers your name, he remembers everything, he remembers how fiercely you fought every day, how you never gave up, he remembers your y/e/c eyes filled with fear every time they dragged you to the chair, he remembers how you looked at him, begging for help, he remembers how he did nothing and just stood there watching them torture you. 

He remembers everything, and he has got to find you.

He will find you. 

****

The hardest thing of being a runaway is not being able to have a home, the idea of having strings and a place to call home felt unreachable, every day you are haunted with the memory of soft blue eyes, torturing chairs and echoing screams.

You are filled with rage; they stole your home, your childhood, your innocence; Hydra took everything from you, and you were going to make them pay.

You are a mutant, with the ability to heal any wound and learn everything about any person with just touching them, that’s why they took you when you were only ten.

For years Hydra used your gifts to get information from their enemies and heal the Winter Soldier after his missions.

He was the one who took you away from your home; the Winter Soldier, but your hate has never been directed towards him, you knew his story, you knew they took as much from him as they took from you. 

For some reason you always felt attracted to him, like a magnetic force was calling you, as the years passed your attraction did nothing but grow; until he disappeared after the Triskelion incident, leaving you alone and heartbroken.  

And you stayed there, until the base where you were being held captive was attacked, giving you the chance of escaping, while everyone; including the Maximoff twins, were too busy defending the base you were able to take down the few guards that stayed behind and finally find your freedom. 

It was easy to find your way out of Sokovia, and after that you never stopped running, not even when the Earth was attacked by aliens again, not even when half of the world was turned to dust. 

But then one day people started to come back, families were reunited and the earth seemed to go back to normal, which meant that the last bits of Hydra that were scattered around the world were back as well. 

So you went back to running, changing looks, country and identity every couple months, that seemed to become a routine until one day you saw him on TV, the White Wolf, the companion of the new Captain America, Sam Wilson.

It was him.

The Winter Soldier. 

So he made it out, he is free now, and the fact that he was willing to show himself on open TV meant one thing and one thing only, every single last bit of Hydra was taken down and he had broken down their programming, gaining himself back.

You grabbed your backpack and filled it with the few things you had, getting ready to leave yet another city, you throw the bag over your shoulders and leave the tiny apartment with a mission on your mind.

You had to find James Buchanan Barnes.

***

Since he remembered your name he hasn’t been able to take you out of his mind; out of the sudden he finds himself drowning in your memory, kind eyes, soft skin and plump lips, one day it hits him.

He is in love with you.

He is desperately and irrevocably in love with a woman he barely remembers; he is in love with a ghost and he is willing to do anything to find you.

All they have been able to find is a file, left behind on a Hydra base, there isn’t much, just a log of your reaction to the chair and a picture of you, that he cherishes as his most valuable possession. Every single system Stark owns is now programmed to locate you, Stark created an algorithm (whatever that is) that is supposed to catch any move you make. 

When that happened he would get alerted of your location and finally he would be able to find you.

He was scared of course. 

After all, he was the one who kidnapped you, he stood there watching them torture you, he abandoned Hydra without ever doing anything to rescue you.

So with all of that, what if you hated him? 

Of course you would be entitled to do so, but he knew he wouldn’t stand the hate in your eyes; so he makes a decision, when they find you he won’t do anything to approach you, he just wants to know that you are alive, safe and sound, that will be enough.

“You know that staring at the screen won’t make it work faster, right?” His train of thought is interrupted by the voice of his best friend, he gives a huff in response without taking his eyes away from the monitor. “When was the last time you slept?”

“I don’t know, Tuesday?” He answers absentmindedly.

“Buck, it’s Friday, you have got to stop, this isn’t healthy.”

“I have to find her Steve, I hurt her so bad, and I just need to make sure she's fine.”

“We don’t even know if she is still…”

“If she is still what? Say it Steve.”

“We don’t even know if she is still alive, you were in Hydra for 70 years Bucky, for all we know she could be long gone.” 

“Until the opposite is proven, she is alive, I know she is, I can feel it.”

“Okay Buck.” Steve says softly. “We’ll keep looking.” 

“Captain Rogers.” Announces a robotic voice that Bucky has learnt to identify as F.R.I.D.A.Y. “Thor, Bruce and the Maximoff twins are back from their mission.”  

“Thank you F.R.I.D.A.Y. any updates on the search?”

“Nothing yet, I will inform you as soon as there is a match.” 

Bucky barely registers the interaction, he is lost in your eyes, they scanned the picture and it is now displayed on real size on the screen, he longs to touch you, to trace your soft cheeks and to join his lips with yours. 

“That’s Y/N.” That single comment snaps him out of his train of thought, he turns around and sees Wanda standing on the door. “Why are you looking for her?” 

“Wait, you know her?” He jumps out of the chair and goes to her. “Wanda?

“Yeah I do, she was kept on the Sokovia base with us, she used to heal us after Hydra’s experiments.” Wanda replies. “She was the only kind person in there.”

“How long ago was that?” 

“I’m not sure, but she was still there when Steve and the rest of the team took down the base.”

“Steve?” He asks, with desperation in his voice. 

“We checked the base Buck, she wasn’t there.” 

“Are you sure, maybe they took her with them?” His heart is racing so fast he feels it might escape his chest. “Maybe she was still there and you didn’t see her?” 

“There was no one there Buck, I promise, but this is good, it gives us a place to start.” 

“We have to go there, there might be a clue or something that can lead us to her.”

“Let’s go then.” 

Fifteen minutes later he is in the Quinjet, together with Sam, Steve, the twins and Natasha. He can barely breath and he is so nervous he feels he might throw up, this is the first real clue they have, and even though he is trying to stay positive his mind can’t help but wander around the worst case scenario. 

You could be dead.

He shoves the thought away and takes a deep breath. 

Soon he will see you. 

***

After a lot of meditation you make a decision you are probably going to regret.

You are going to the Avengers compound.

It’s the first place that comes to your mind, if James is working with Captain America again he has got to be there, or at least a clue of him.

It’s a risk of course, you know for a fact that they have very tight security protocols, especially after Thanos’ attack, number two, they probably relate you as an Hydra agent and it can be troublesome to prove the opposite.

You know that it’s your best shot to find him, even if you are not sure if he wants to see you.

But right now your main concern was getting there, without a passport or any kind of document to prove your identity there was no way you could get out of the country, leaving Sokovia wasn’t hard, you had left during the raid and hotwired a car, you spent the next few years traveling from one place to other, eventually your path lead you to Spain, once you were there it became easy to blend in.

But getting out of Spain was a complete different issue. 

First things first, you had to get documents, you also had to plan your escape in a way that went unnoticed by Hydra or any other organization that had you as a target. With the Sokovia Accords the mere fact of being a mutant became a dangerous situation. 

Getting the documents wouldn’t be so hard, you knew that Rodrigo; a habitual customer of the coffee shop you worked on, who later became one of your only friends; had a money laundry business, and that he was well connected with people that could make excellent forgeries, the tricky part would be getting him to trust you enough to tell you. 

But he was the only person you knew that might have that kind of connection, so you had to take the risk. 

So the next day you go to work determined to talk to him, at ten o’clock in the morning he crosses the door and orders his usual cappuccino and a spanish ham tapa. 

“Okay Y/N, it’s now or never.” You whisper to yourself and put a fake smile on your face. 

“Buenos días Rodrigo.” Good morning Rodrigo. You ask with an almost perfect spanish accent.

“Hola Lidia, ¿como estais?” Good morning Lidia, how are you? Lidia was the name you had chosen as an alias, and it was still hard to get used to it.

“No tan bien, he tenido algunos problemas.”  Not so well, I have a problem.

“Lamento mucho oír eso, sabéis que podes contar conmigo para lo que sea.” I’m sorry to hear that, you know you can count on me for anything. 

“De hecho, eso quería hablar contigo, quería pedirte un favor.” Actually, I wanted to talk about it with you.  You sit on the chair in front of him and sigh.

“Lo que sea.” Anything 

“Necesito salir del país, mi abuela se encuentra muy mal.” I need to get out of the country, my grandma is very sick

“¿Necesitas dinero?” Do you need money?

“No, no es eso.” No, it’s not that.

“¿Entonces?” Then?

“Lo que sucede es que no tengo papeles, ni pasaporte, ni visa, ni nada, todo lo he perdido cuando salí de Sokovia.” The thing is that I have no papers, no passport, or visa, or anything, I lost everything when I left Sokovia. His face hardens and he looks away. “¿Conocéis a alguien que pueda ayudarme?” Do you know anyone who can help me?

“No se que te hace pensar que tengo ese tipo de contactos Lidia.” I don’t know what makes you believe I have that kind of connection Lidia. He says with annoyance.

“Por favor Rodrigo, te lo ruego, te juro que no se lo diré a nadie.” Please Rodrigo, I swear I won’t tell anyone.  You beg, he takes his keys and stands up. “Por favor.” Please

“Busca a Gary Rydell, estará en España por poco tiempo, se hospeda en el Royal Hideaway, si alguien puede ayudarte es él, decidle que vais de mi parte.” Find Gary Rydell, he will be in Spain for a couple days, he is staying at the Royal Hideaway if anyone can help you is him, tell him I sent you.

“Gracias Rodrigo.” Thank you Rodrigo.

“¿Y Lidia?” And Lidia?

“¿Si?” Yes?

“Ni una palabra de esto con nadie.” Not a single word of this to anyone. He takes the last sip of his cappuccino and leaves.

That very same day you are at the hotel he indicated, based on his memories Gary Rydell was a tall white man with the bluest eyes you had ever seen, you recognize him walking by the side of the pool, you decide that a straight approach is your best option, you walk towards him and he smiles. 

“Well hello.”

“Hi.” You smile back and run your fingers through your hair. “You are Gary Rydell.”

“That I am, you seem to know my name but I don’t know yours.”

“Lidia Aguilar.”

“Lidia, can I buy you a drink?”

“Sure.” You both go to the bar and order straight scotch for both of you.

“So, Lidia, what can I do for you?.”

“I have a problem, Rodrigo Ballesteros said that you are the right man to help me.”

“Straight to business, I like it, how can I help you?”

 “I need to go to the United States, but I don’t have any paperwork, let’s just say that Lidia is just a couple of years old.”

He takes a sip from his glass and gives you a coy smile.

“What you are asking for can be tricky to get, you need an American passport and ID and those aren’t easy to get.”

“I am ready to pay anything it takes.”

“It would be ten grand.”

“Dollars?”

“Euros baby girl.” He corrects, you knew it would be expensive, but thanks to an Hydra account you had managed to hack, money wouldn’t be an issue. 

“Alright, you got it.”

“But I’m afraid we might need to kill Lidia, it’s easier to get what you want with a name that already exists.” 

“Okay, that’s fine.” 

“Very good Lidia, we have a deal.”

Two weeks later you have assumed a new identity, Gary managed to get one that had your real name, you are now Y/N Talbot, a Californian girl that spent the last few years traveling. You have a one way plane ticket to New York. 

****

The trip to Sokovia ended up being useless, there was no trail of you.

Wanda had managed to find the cage where you were kept in, there was a chair, similar to the one they used on him, the cell was made of three concrete walls and a glass one to keep you monitored. 

Being this close to Hydra made him want to throw up.

The worst part was that he had hit yet another dead end, he was back to square one. 

On the way back to New York, Bucky stays silent, even with Steve’s and Sam’s effort to cheer him up and make him speak. 

When they get to the compound he goes straight to the room where they had all the monitors and a glass board where he had pinned all the clues they had on you and starts to take it all down.

“Buck, what are you doing?” Steve asks with concern.

“This is pointless, we will never find her!” He knocks the board down and it shatters when it touches the floor. 

“You can’t give up.”

“We have been trying to find her for almost six months and we have nothing! We are as close to her as we were at the beginning!”

“Sergeant Barnes.” Says a robotic voice. “There is a match on Y/N Y/L/N.”

“What? Where?” Then an image is displayed on the screen. 

And it’s like he can breathe for the first time in years, you are alive, safe and sound, and more beautiful than he remembered, his memories never did justice to the real you.

He is so excited to see you, that it takes him a while to realize where you are. 

You are on the entrance of the compound. 

****

When you see him a part of you it’s brought back to life, like the final piece of the puzzle finally fell to place. 

He walks slowly towards you, like he is afraid of something. 

You close the distance and look him in the eyes, and then you know it. That you love him and you would do anything for him.

“It’s you.” 

Author note: I hope you guys liked it, let me know if you want a part two 

[apocryphalfemme]

Designatory Date Night

Well, I lied.  I finally played Mass Effect: Andromeda a week or so back and I’m here to report that I love Vetra Nyx so completely that I was inspired to write some simply brain-rotting fluff.  (An entire two years ahead of schedule, I know!)  Und so, I give you Designatory Date Night.  Read it below the cut, or on AO3.

Love,

Clithroe

““Pathfinder?”

“Yeah, SAM?”

“If I may ask, what is it you’re thinking of doing?”

“I’m thinking...”  As she recalled her earlier train of thought, Ryder’s face lit up.  “I’m thinking I’ve got an idea for the best date night, ever.””

Or

Ryder leverages the privileges of her job to show Vetra a good time.

“Anwar, what the hell am I looking at?”

“It appears to be a... a solar system, Pathfinder,” Suvi murmured.  “The solar system, in fact.  I believe we’ve found Avaarus.”  Ryder drummed her fingers against her console, brimming with nervous anticipation. 

“But it’s in the middle of nowhere.  We’re not even in Heleus space anymore, right Kallo?” she asked.

“Confirmed, Pathfinder.  We’re in deep space, just a ways outside of home.  I should mention that the next known celestial cluster is the Boone Traverse and we’re not getting anywhere near there without a mass relay,” Kallo said.  “Whatever this is, it’s a lone entity.”

“So... what?” Ryder breathed, disbelieving.  “Heleus just lost an entire star and a handful of planets?  Did it wander off when the angara weren’t looking or something?” 

“Ryder,” Suvi piped up. “It’s possible that what we’re seeing here is one of the more dramatic effects of the Scourge.  If Avaarus really was originally located where angaran maps say, then the system may have been wholly ejected from the cluster as the Scourge spread.”  Their pilot chirped an incredulous noise.

“Is that even possible?”

“Come on Kallo, two whole years in Andromeda and you’re still asking questions like that?” Suvi teased.  Kallo cut back with something sarcastic, but Ryder wasn’t listening; her attention had been caught by what was orbiting their runaway star.

“Okay, no, that can’t be right.  Avaarus is supposed to have four orbiting bodies.  That,” she pointed, “is at least seven.”  That got their attention.  Kallo and Suvi’s conversation petered out as they each ran their own, individual counts of this bizarre, seemingly truant system.  Kallo was first to break the silence.

“With eyes alone, I’m actually counting nine, Pathfinder”

“I think I’m seeing thirteen,” Suvi reported.  SAM’s vox crackled to life over the bridge speakers, only to prove them all wrong.

“Pathfinder, there are at least sixteen distinguishable celestial bodies orbiting this star.”  Kallo gaped, shocked into silence.  Suvi giggled, a tad manic.  Ryder swore.

“Holy shit.  SAM, what… are they?  Where did they come from?”

“The majority appear to be planets in varying states of compositional decay, Pathfinder.  Preliminary scans indicate that many may have once been capable of bearing life.  Cross-referencing with what remains of old angaran star charts and the inferable ejection path of the star Avaarus, I believe it is possible that we have discovered what happened to several planets that the angara report as having mysteriously disappeared over the last several centuries.”

“Holy shit,” Ryder swore again, for good measure.  “So if this really is Avaarus… I guess our friend here decided it wasn’t going out alone, huh?  Stole a few planets on the way out the door.”

“Ryder, the implications of this are incredible,” Suvi babbled, ecstatic.  “We knew the Scourge was powerful, but to learn that it can generate gravitational effects significant enough to move entire stars… forget terraforming, this is stellaforming!”

“Tann’s going to have an aneurysm,” Ryder chuckled.

“Don’t forget why we’re here, guys.  We’ve still got a job to do,” Kallo said, gently reminding them of their purpose in hunting down this most elusive system.  

“Right, yes.”  Ryder ran a hand through her hair before tapping her mic.  “Jaal, can you come up to the bridge?  I think we may have found what we’ve been looking for.”  Their resident angaran’s voice crackled immediately back.

“Oh, really now?  Of course!  On my way, Ryder.”

“God, it isn’t half pretty, is it?” murmured Suvi, completely ignoring her instruments panel in favor of staring at the solar system projected before them with a slightly glazed look.  

Ryder had to admit that her science officer’s assessment was dead on: Avaarus was a gorgeous system and that was putting it lightly.  Around the titanic, vividly blue-white star, sharply violet shades of gas spiraled out in a tight corkscrew.  At the edge of the heliosphere, thousands upon tens of thousands of asteroids spun in a truly magnificent debris disk.  All throughout, a plethora of mostly ringed planets hung suspended in the void, bathed in astral gases, caught in the midst of their aeons-long cosmic dance.  It was a perfect celestial tableau.  The fact that Ryder had seen dozens of equally stunning systems did nothing to detract from the moment; this sort of thing was enough to steal the breath from your lungs and, for her, it still did, every time.

Vetra would love this, she thought.  Before that particular idea could go anywhere, however, the quiet reverie they had fallen into was interrupted by the opening whoosh of the bridge doors.

“Alright Ryder, show me what you’ve got!” Jaal called cheerily, sauntering up to them.  Ryder turned and grinned.

“Hey, Jaal.  Allow me to present, for your consideration... the long-lost Avaarus system!” she said, spinning back to fling her arms wide.  “Or at least, we think it is.”  Jaal laughed.

“It’s a start, to be certain.  Any luck in finding the colony?”

“Anj Guhloan was supposedly on the fourth planet from Avaarus, right?”

“Correct.”  Ryder hummed an acknowledgement and cast a critical eye upon the projection.

“Right, then.  SAM, scan everything that could be big enough for an angaran settlement to hide on.  With all the crap this star picked up on the way out, who knows if Avaarus IV is still where it should be.”  Only after the merest second of delay, her AI chirped his response.

“Done.  I have identified what may be the remains of an angaran satellite in orbit around the fifth planet.”

“Bingo.  Kallo, I know this place is a minefield, but can you get us in closer?”

“Oh, please,” Kallo scoffed.  “I could fly through this blindfolded.”

“As entertaining as that sounds, I’d rather not be on the ship while you attempted it,” Jaal protested.  Kallo chuckled to himself.

“Have it your way.  Approach vector clear, Pathfinder; taking us in.”  The ever-present hum of the drive core pitched up a little as Kallo wove through the debris disk and into the core of the heliosphere.  Ryder had to hand it to him: while he could be a little over-sure at times, he was, inarguably, a pilot of sterling quality.  The Tempest progressed at a healthy pace through a chunk of space so dense with detritus that a lesser navigator would have been reduced to crawl.  

It was only a few short minutes before they were close enough to the planet in question for Suvi to start taking more detailed scans.  Ryder was less than thrilled to see her science officer’s face falling as she pored over her gathered readings.

“That’s not a happy expression, Anwar.  What are you getting?”  Suvi muttered something unintelligible and tapped her mic to ping their AI.

“SAM, can you get me a scan of the star, please?”

“Of course, Ms. Anwar.”  As her eyes flicked across the new influx of data, Suvi spat something foul.

“Keep us in the loop, Suvi, what have you got?” Ryder asked.

“Bad news, I’m afraid.”  Suvi twisted in her seat to face them.  “It looks like the star Avaarus is well on its way to becoming a superluminous supernova; this system’s going to go off like a firecracker sometime in the next couple centuries.  Avaarus IV - or, Avaarus V now, I guess - if it ever really was Anj Guhloan, has been a molten, liquid hunk of rock for a long time now.  I’m sorry, guys.  The planet’s cooked.”  A hand pressed to her forehead, Ryder sighed.

“Damn.  I’m sorry, Jaal.  That is not the news I wanted to give the angara.”  She was surprised when Jaal smiled at her, apparently far less distraught than she had expected.

“Do not worry, my friend.  The angara, myself included, have accepted that, between the Scourge, the kett, and our own occasional stupidity, many of the settlements that once were are now undoubtedly gone.  Though I am disappointed the lost colony of Anj Guhloan was not waiting for us, I am thankful to have borne witness to its fate.  The angara who lived here will not be forgotten, for we now know what happened to them.”  Ryder smiled wistfully back.

“Well, I’m glad we could at least give you that.  SAM, send a report to Aya and update the Initiative’s maps.”  Ryder rolled her neck, eliciting a disconcerting crack in the process.  She groaned.  “And on that note, I think we’re done for the day.  Kallo, Suvi, go eat something and get some sleep.  And…” she trailed off as she checked her omnitool.  “Oh my god, guys, tell me when we’ve been going for longer than eight hours!”  Kallo and Suvi, now standing and working out their own muscular kinks, looked at her in surprise.

“I, uh… I didn’t notice, Pathfinder,” Kallo murmured.

“How long have we…?” Suvi asked.

“I believe you three have been up here flying for more than ten hours, actually.  Last I checked, that is,” Jaal said, grinning.  Head cradled in her hands, Ryder heaved another groan, this one infinitely more weary than the last.

“Then remind me instead to set an alarm next time, or something.  Alright, clear the bridge you lot, I’m going to get enough hell as it is from Lexi about overworking you.”

“Oh, come on, Ryder,” Kallo argued.  

Suvi cut over him, to say: “This is what we signed up for!”  Ryder pointed at the door, but couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her face.

“Out, now!  Food and then bed; we can poke around the system in more detail tomorrow.  Jaal, make sure they get some of that roast Drack made yesterday down their throats?”

“You’ve got it, Ryder.”  Saint that he was, Jaal gently but firmly shepherded her protesting bridge crew out and down to the galley.  The door slid shut behind them, leaving the Pathfinder by herself.  

Sometimes, you don’t realize how tired you are until you’ve a second to yourself; the newfound silence afforded Ryder both a blissful moment of recuperation and the recognition of the fact that she was, indeed, knackered.  She stretched her arms - damn, if she wasn’t stiff - and turned her attention back to the now rediscovered Avaarus system.  Exhausted as she was, she didn’t quite want to leave it yet, especially for something so trivial as sleep.  (Yes, she was entirely a hypocrite).  There was something equal parts forlorn and magical about watching the silver-blue star floating alone in the void; so far away from everything.  And yet, as if in defiance of its exile, Avaarus burned all the more beautiful.  Though, it wasn’t really alone, was it?  It had its stolen planets to comfort it through the coming explosion.  In much the same way as the ultimate fate of Anj Guhloan was beheld by Jaal, so too would the fate of Avaarus be beheld by its stolen audience.  It was a strangely reassuring thought.  As she gazed at the plethora of elliptical orbiters, a thought occurred to her.

“Hey, SAM.”

“Yes, Ryder?”

“What’s the plan for these planets?”

“Initiative protocol dictates that they be scanned, designated, and marked on Initiative maps.  Planets of note - those that could be potentially habitable or those with valuable resources - will be highlighted and the relevant officials made aware of their existence.  In the case of these particular planets, considering they are molten slag bar none and located a significant distance from the Heleus cluster, it is unlikely the Initiative will take any interest beyond the academic.  There may be some investigation into the stellaforming effects of the Scourge, as Ms. Anwar puts is it, but that is where it will likely end.”

“So this is as far as things go for them, huh?  At least, as far as we’re concerned?”

“That is correct, Pathfinder.  The Initiative has more immediate concerns.”

“That’s kind of sad.  Something so beautiful deserves a bit more attention than... wait, SAM, what exactly are these planets being designated?”

“I have tagged the orbiting bodies, in order, as H-977, H-978, H-979a, H-979b, H-.”  Before he could get too far into his alphanumeric monologue, Ryder cut him off.

“Okay, right, thanks SAM.”  Chewing at the inside of her cheek, she stared off into space, thoughtful.

“Pathfinder?”

“Yeah, SAM?”

“If I may ask, what is it you’re thinking of doing?”

“I’m thinking...”  As she recalled her earlier train of thought, Ryder’s face lit up.  “I’m thinking I’ve got an idea for the best date night, ever.”

“Ah.  I believe I understand.  Would you like me to ask Ms. Nyx to come up to the bridge?”

“Nah, I’ll go grab her.”  Ryder turned around and made for the door, but was arrested in her escape by SAM once more.

“Have fun, Ryder.”  Ryder beamed.

“Thanks, buddy.”  

With a hop, skip, and a slap to the face to keep herself awake, Ryder was away.  She didn’t bother with the ladder to the lower deck - as she jogged onto the clear plex of the catwalk, she unceremoniously jumped off the side to land on the ground below.  A combination of her biotics and sleep deprivation was enough to negate the jarring impact entirely and in the span of a heartbeat, she was off down the hall.  As she hustled past the med bay, she caught at the very edge of her vision Lexi’s head poking out to investigate the noise.

“Ryder, what on earth did you just-.”

“No time, doc!  Everything’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“Ryder, you know full well that your telling me not to worry about something only ever makes me worry more!”  But Ryder was gone and heading into the cargo bay before Lexi could get too far into giving a proper scolding.  Lucky for her, it looked like just about everyone else was asleep - no one was around to see her eager jog over to what had become Vetra’s office.  

Slowing to a stop, Ryder took a moment to catch her breath.  She didn’t want to look excessively keen - though in a committed relationship she and Vetra may have been, she still had a calm and collected reputation to maintain.  It didn’t matter that Vetra knew it all to be, by and large, a conscious affect: it was the principle of the thing.  The Pathfinder was always composed - even in the face of giddying affection.  Once she had herself together, Ryder headed in.  The door slid open to reveal Vetra hunched over a mess of crates.  She was, quite impressively, stacking them with just the one hand while simultaneously checking them against the list projected on her omnitool, all while muttering obscenities under her breath.  Ryder crossed her arms and leaned against the frame, indulging in having caught her partner unawares and in her element.  Vetra was much more relaxed when other people - Ryder aside - weren’t around and it gave Ryder a sort of tender joy to see her so at ease.  But of course, such sappy sentiments would never stop her from teasing her girlfriend, not at all.  As Vetra straightened back up, Ryder announced her presence in as serious a tone as she could fake.

“Ms. Nyx, your assistance is urgently required on the bridge.”  Vetra turned around to meet Ryder’s gaze, crossing her own arms in the process.

“Is it now, Pathfinder?” she said, with a poorly constrained smile.  

“Indeed.  Life and death situation; fate of the cluster at stake.  The usual.”

“Mmm, I’m sure.  Unfortunately for you, Ryder, it just so happens that I’m currently having the time of my life processing requisitions.  Can your little ‘situation’ measure up to the sheer euphoria of cataloguing rolls of toilet paper?”  Vetra deadpanned the statement so completely that Ryder found herself staring at her partner in disbelief, mouth dropping.  Vetra, clearly delighting in Ryder’s bewilderment, had the gall to wink at her.  Too tired to retort, Ryder finally broke.  She sprang forward, proffering a hand and letting all her excitement shine past the bit.

“Oh my god, come on already, you silly turian, I want to show you something!”  Vetra smiled in turn and reached out to take said hand.

“Yeah, alright, I was getting pretty sick of checking for delivery discrepancies anyway.  So what have you - whoah!”  As soon as she had a hold on her, Ryder tugged Vetra into a jog, pulling her out of the office and around onto the cargo lift.  She punched the ascent and the thing began its slow, clunky climb.  Unfortunately, slow and clunky was something of an understatement; Ryder found herself tapping her foot with impatience as they rose ploddingly.

“Excited, are we?” Vetra poked.

“Trust me, babe, you’re going to love this.”  

“If it’s whatever’s responsible for you smiling like this, then I’m sure I will.”  Vetra slung an arm around Ryder’s shoulders, who in turn threw an arm around Vetra’s waist; overt affection came more easily when they were alone.  Additionally, being wrapped around each other had the added benefit of slowing Ryder down a bit: pulled close to Vetra’s side, she was forced to adopt a slightly more sane pace as they made their way back through the ship and up to the bridge.  Ryder didn’t mind.  It was totally worth trading speed for.  When they eventually came up on the bridge doors, Ryder called a halt before they could enter.

“Okay, close your eyes.”

“Seriously?”

“Hey, I did it that time you tried to kill me with a blackened piece of cow.”

“Fair point.”

“Look, I’d cover them for you if I could, but I can’t help the fact that you’re absurdly tall.”  Vetra grinned evilly down at her.

“Well, I can’t help the fact that you’re a shrimp.  And don’t pretend you don’t love it, short stack.”

“Yeah, I do, now close ‘em, Nyx!” Ryder muttered, her face flushing a little as Vetra eyed her.  Apparently sufficiently appeased, her partner deigned to close her eyes.  Ryder guided her temporarily sightless charge through the doors and to the fore of the bridge.  With her implant, she signaled SAM to collapse the navigation panel and guided Vetra to sit on the now available ledge before joining her by her side.

“Okay, you can open your eyes.”  Vetra did so and promptly gasped.

“Oh, wow.”

“Right?”

“That’s...”

“Right?!”

“Hot damn, Ryder.  That’s gorgeous.”  Ryder hummed an affirmation, thoroughly pleased with herself.  “You know how to pick ‘em, babe.”

“What can I say?  I’ve got exceptional taste in star systems.”  Vetra elbowed her affectionately.  

“You sure do.”

“So... do you wanna name them?”  Vetra spluttered, incredulously amused.

“Be serious.”

“I am serious!”

“Ryder, is that even something you’re allowed to do?”

“Aw, c’mon, I’m the Pathfinder.  If anyone can get away with naming a couple of planets, I think it’s me.”

“You’re ridiculous.”  Vetra shook her head, but Ryder knew she just about had her.  Her partner just needed the right incentive.

“I’m giving you dibs on naming the first one.”  That got her.  Vetra opened her mouth to speak, closed it again, and peered curiously into space.

“Which one’s that?”  Ryder snorted and pointed.

“Purple-blue ice giant with the three moons, very edge of the heliosphere.”

“Oh, you spoil me.”

“I try.  So, give us a name!  What are you thinking?”

“Hmm.  I’m thinking… Not Dead Yet.”  Ryder stifled a chuckle.  

“Why that?”

“Looks like it’s almost been ejected from the system, but the big bastard’s clinging on something fierce.”

“A name the Initiative can relate to, I’m sure.”

“That’s the idea.  Alright, your turn, oh mighty Pathfinder.  What’re we going to call that one?”  The planet in question was a chthonian-in-progress; a gas giant in close orbit to Avaarus, its emerald-colored atmosphere in the process of being stripped away to reveal the molten aluminum-iron core.

“Stinky.”  Vetra burst out laughing.

“What?! You’re messing with me.”

“Look at it!  That thing is trailing bright green gas like no one’s business.”

“Ryder, I’m no scientist, but I’m pretty certain that’s burning atmosphere.”

“Yeah and it’s stinking up the neighborhood as it goes.”  Vetra heaved a much-put upon sigh, but the breadth of her toothy turian grin and the fluttering of her mandibles betrayed her amusement.

“Alright, fine.  Stinky it is.  Which one next?”

“That one.  Whatcha got?”  The planet Ryder was indicating was another gas giant, though this one was significantly prettier than the newly-dubbed Stinky.  Ivory clouds of gas billowed across it, cut though with the occasional twisting carmine storm.  It was a bloody, alabaster gem, stark against the black.  Vetra considered it thoughtfully.

“Would I sound crazy if I said it kind of looks like my sister?”

“Y’know... no, I see it, it kind of does.”  Ryder and Vetra gave each other a dubious, slant-eyed look at exactly the same time and erupted in giggles.

“Spirits, babe, Sid’s going to flip if I tell her I named a planet after her!”

“All the more reason to do it!”  Vetra huffed.

“Screw it.  Planet, I dub thee Sidera.”

“She’ll be thrilled.”  Falling victim to a yawn of massive proportions, Ryder leaned her head against Vetra’s shoulder and fought to keep her eyes open.  “Go on, you can do the next one too.”  Vetra cast her eyes around the system, searching for her next victim.

“How about that protoplanet?” she asked.  As Ryder murmured her sleepy approval, Vetra curled an arm around her.  “Well, as long as I’m being all sentimental… Prag’rath.”  Ryder scrunched her nose in confusion.

“Prag’rath?”

“The batarian mercenary who taught me to shoot.”

“Aw, that’s sweet.”

“She’d kick my ass for it.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell.”  Though there were yet planets in need of names, tiredness and the sheer splendor of the system had Vetra and Ryder lapsing into a warm and comfortable silence, pressed close together.  The Avaarus system slowly and silently spun before them, its striking beauty framed by the stars so incredibly remote in the distance.

“Is this something normal couples do?” Ryder asked.  Vetra peered down at her.

“Naming planets?  I mean... no, probably not.”  Vetra brought Ryder’s hand up to her lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it.  “But I’d like to think it’s very us.  This was a lot of fun, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m glad.”  Ryder settled further against her partner and finally stopped fighting the exhaustion of the day, letting her eyes droop shut.  Though already half-asleep, she whispered, “Vetra?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“I love you.”  The last things Ryder registered before finally succumbing to sleep were the pale, sparkling light of Avaarus and Vetra’s voice, murmuring in her ear.

“I love you too.”

[tiefling-queer]

For D&D character ask, for any and/or all of your characters;

1, 5, 8, 15, 23, 29, 64, 65, 69(Nice)

i’m gonna answer these for whichever characters have the most interesting answers, skipping some for repeats:

1. why did they choose their class(es)? their subclass(es)?

kip (wizard, school of necromancy): crisis of faith midway through grave cleric training, spurred on by him sucking at the whole cleric thing (9 wisdom babyyy) while also being a nerd (18 int babyyyy)

baylock (shadow sorcerer/rogue): the sorcerer part is a side effect from being born dead during a cataclysmic event that tore portions of the material plane asunder. the rogue part is because he got in with a bad crowd as a kid. he’s been gaining levels in sorcerer as he traverses the freaky magic wasteland, utilizes his magic more, and gets a little closer to death each time someone hits his squishy arcane caster frame too hard

izak (gunslinger, graveslinger): sometimes you’re a jaded teen-equivalent runaway bumming around the river kingdoms and some dude comes up to you and is like ‘im a neutral evil mercenary, but if you take this gun and learn to shoot, i can also be your dad’. and then later you’re a 20-something equivalent who just realized that you don’t actually want to be an evil mercenary so you run away again and this time some dude comes up to you and is like ‘i’m a priest of sarenrae and an exorcist, and if you believe you can be redeemed, i can also be your dad.’ and then you learn how to shoot ghosts so you can be useful while this guy teaches you about being a better person.

5. do they follow a higher power? what are their thoughts on divinity?

izak: (deep lore dump) izak’s family was, at one point, pious people, and it was some ancestor’s warped perception of what piousness is and what was worth sacrificing in the name of good that led to the entire mess that is izak’s face. izak’s a devout worshiper of sarenrae now and hopes to maybe be the assistance someone needs to put themselves on a better path the way brak was for him, but there’s still a part of him that believes that, because he’s a tiefling, he’s never going to really be saved, and that his soul will eventually belong to the asura it was promised to.

8. what are three songs that suit them?

sydel: buckets of blood by rufus rex (tw for self harm, link goes to spotify because i can’t find this track on its own on youtube), thank god that i’m not you by himalayas, and bruises by fox stevenson (full playlist here)

15. do they trust their party? why or why not?

kip: he trusts them with his life, he just doesn’t trust them to understand where he’s coming from. he’s hiding some really heretical opinions that he knows at least maya (the celestial warlock) won’t agree with. he doesn’t like to talk about his family trauma, his past, or anything that he thinks the party can use to cleverly deduce that the notes he’s been scribbling are about raising the dead and theoretical conduits, prices, and replacements for the soul (he’s a little paranoid and might be giving them more credit than they deserve)

baylock: baylock might trust morgran, but he doesn’t trust surina at all, not since she and the (presumed deceased) swashbuckler tried to use him as a scapegoat when they were being interrogated by evil government warlocks. and even then, he only trusts morgran to not leave him for dead. baylock’s a fiercely loyal person by nature, so he’s been trying to keep his party at arms length so he won’t be betrayed again. the closest he came to starting to trust them was right before he found out that they told the evil government warlock that they’d turn him in in exchange for their freedom when they were captured a while back (whether or not they actually intended to do so is irrelevant for baylock - he spent 5 years in prison after being his old thieve’s guild’s fall guy, he’s not about to let it happen again)

23. how do they feel about nicknames, titles, or labels that have been given to them? how do they feel about their name?

kip: kip’s given name is joffric ravenhall. he’s been going by the alias of ‘greenbough’ on the offchance that people have heard of his family or knew his father at some point, since he really doesn’t want to explain why he’s not a priest of the raven queen by now. ‘kip’, however, is what his family and friends call him, so it was a bit of a big deal to him when he told the party to call him kip, since he hadn’t been around anyone he considered family or friend in a few years. kip’s reeling a little bit over suddenly being called an ‘adverturer type’ - to him, he’s still just a transient weirdo who picks up odd jobs.

baylock: baylock craft’s name isn’t actually baylock craft (not yet anyway lol), he stole his late cellmate’s identity to take advantage of the jailbreak that came a few days too late. his name, ekleipsis caldor, isn’t exactly something he identifies with so much as what he was once called. his father never wanted him but got stuck with him when his mother bounced, so ‘caldor’ is more a formality than anything. ‘ekleipsis’ is the greek root of ‘eclipse’, for the eclipse he was born during - but moreso, ‘ekleipsis’ doesn’t mean ‘to be covered’ - it means ‘a disappearance or abandonment’. an event where the sun abandons the sky. baylock is a walking abandonment issue. he hasn’t taken a virtue name because he thinks it’s performative (which is where him officially taking the name ‘baylock craft’ as his name and not the identity of someone he’s pretending to be comes in - it’s the equivalent of naming himself for the virtue of rebellion without naming himself something stupid and embarrassing like ‘rebel’.)

izak: izak just got done being haunted by a ghost wizard who’s obsessed with names, probably because he’s had 4. izak was born dalethiel oakleaf back when he was an elf, but when he ran away after waking up as a tiefling he went by dally. then he was a mercenary for a while and his edgy mercenary name was viper. and then, when asked for his name by the cleric of sarenrae who rescued him in the wilderness, he said he didn’t have one worth giving, so the cleric told him he’d just call him izak then. that’s who izak is now, as far as he’s concerned, or at least who he wants to be. as he told the ghost wizard who tried to torment him with his birth name, that’s not his name anymore. dalethiel oakleaf was a young elf who died on his 50th birthday. izak’s got a perfectly good name, given to him by a kind man, and he doesn’t want to think about the time in his life he went by dally or viper.

karif: karif always introduces himself formally with his full name, in the family-given-familiar name pattern - ‘ixenvari karifgethisk fraurirthos, er, but you can just call me karif.’ this is because karif’s nickname, fraurirthos, the one his childhood friends and family call him, translates from draconic literally to ‘breathes secrets’. his nickname is snitch. he’s a little embarrassed about it. but ‘karifgethisk’ is a bit of a mouthful for those who don’t speak draconic, so shortening it to ‘karif’ suits fine.

29. who would they save? who would they be saved by? 

this has been a tough one, i’m not sure how to answer it for anyone.

64. do they value mercy or justice more?

kip: this honestly depends on his mood and your definitions of both ‘mercy’ and ‘justice’. he’s very easily led away by his emotions - both pity and compassion that could sway him to lean more towards mercy, and rage that tends to harden his heart and clear his head. he’s more than down to torture someone if he deems them evil, and he’ll destroy creatures like aberrations, fiends, and undead without a second thought, but he views life as a very precious thing - even when torturing an evil demon-summoning spellcaster, he still was trying to find ways out that resulted in that spellcaster getting out alive. this has come back to bite the party in the ass, since it was kip’s insistance that the party not kill all the guards on their little anarchy stunt that got them blackmailed to infiltrate the evil army of darkness, which is something he most certainly DOES NOT want to do.

65. what is holding them back?

kip: kip’s hang-ups about the soul and how he was raised are holding him back from becoming a stronger necromancer, while his grief and refusal to accept mortality hold him back from possibly still being some flavor of raven queen follower.

baylock: baylock’s hesitance and confusion over what he wants are holding him back from either fully embracing the rebellion or ditching it to get vengence

izak: izak’s self-loathing and fear of himself hold him back from interacting with people and forming meaningful relationships outside of the handful of people who’ve found out he’s a tiefling.

69 (nice): how would they describe their party members?

kip:

maya is... complicated. kip admires her pragmatism and her faith - it reminds him of his older sister, and he’s been missing that rock in his life. however, he butts heads with her a lot, because he finds her cold duty-bound outlook to be pointlessly cruel.

meera is wicked smart and talented, if a little misguided at times. he’s very big brother protective of her, always trying to offer her his dagger because ‘it’s a nice dagger’ (it’s +1)

amity is a good kid, and smarter than some may give him credit for. he’s fun to be around, and usually a level-headed presence, which makes it even more surprising just how ok he is with killing.

baylock:

morgran is an asshole, but is also probably the only person in the group who believes in this whole rebellion thing, so that counts for something. he’s decent people, can probably be trusted to see a mission through and not do anything completely stupid, but since he’s decent people he’s probably going to insist on staying on this path of lunacy with delusions of ‘taking down the Summit’. also, morgran shouldn’t be allowed to talk to anyone they meet, because he’s an asshole, and doesn’t bother pretending to be personable like baylock does.

surina is insane. she’s deranged, like everyone who tries to live outside the sanctums is. also just racist at times. when their cover gets blown or when they get mixed up with people they should be talking down, she’s gonna be the reason they all get killed.

porthos is was an idiot and a liability and just proved him right by running off and doing something rash and probably getting himself killed and also maybe compromising the whole rebellion which baylock doesn’t care about, so why does he feel like he should have done more to stop Porthos’ demise?

[abybweisse]

@gkrosental Oh, I’ve blogged about this before, but it’s split between various posts. So, it might be hard to find. You can check my blog, though, for #advanced technology, #medical technology, #technological advances, #medical advances, #reaper technology, etc. Oh... and stuff like #george and #giygas....

For one thing, that’s not Sebastian’s mobile; it’s the one Vanel’s thugs have. He just takes it from one of them to talk to Vanel.

The other thing is that modern technology shows up in the manga quite frequently, and Yana-san explained once that it’s an alternate universe to begin with, and these things are, therefore, only... slightly anachronistic. Let’s not forget that our earl has some kind of television; it’s been vaguely mentioned by our earl and Finny, and much more directly mentioned by Soma. Funny thing about the TV is that our earl must not be the only one to have one, since John Brown mentions the same TV program to the crowd at the Crystal Palace; he promotes the rumor that the show is based on Queen Victoria! But yeah... some of them are definitely still anachronistic, even for the Kuroverse.

The reapers (and their superiors) have advanced technology. We know this for a fact; even ages ago, when Othello was newer to the reaper organization, he’s seen carrying around a box of computer parts, like a keyboard. Othello says that humans can get ahold of such knowledge through demon contracts, etc. Even though Sebastian hasn’t been told (that we know of) to “invent stuff for me” by our earl, we can pretty well assume that Funtom’s innovative toys come from a combination of our earl’s imagination and Sebastian’s demonic abilities. Funtom is best known for its Bitter Rabbits and candies, but they also sell video game consoles... with game controllers connected by wires. Indeed, Funtom sells a few things that you’d only expect the reapers to have. But it doesn’t end with Funtom, not even regarding video games. How else would Chlaus show up in ch1 with that game cartridge packaging for “Mouse3”? It was actually full of the drug evidence he’d brought back from Italy... but the packaging is probably legit.

I suspect that reapers, like Undertaker, also have an effect on the advancements that humans make... accelerating the process of innovation. Those dialysis machines are a perfect example. I’m not sure yet who actually built them. Perhaps Druitt, since he has a medical license? And because Undertaker saved him on the Campania for REASONS...?

At one point, during the murders arc, Charles Grey makes a comment that Germany’s about ten years ahead of where it should be; I’m not sure how he learned that (perhaps from John Brown?!?), but this means that the Kuroverse is dealing with an accelerated timeline for its technological advances. Characters like Grey and Othello acknowledge something is amiss. But, it’s complicated why it’s happening. Germany might have some reaper or demon/angel intervention, too, but they also have/had prodigies, like Sieglinde Sullivan. She managed something her parents, with all their learning and training, had failed to do. SuLin was the result. Idk how they got the rest of the advanced technology they are using, like radar and tanks. Divine intervention? Other geniuses? Since coming to Great Britain, Sieglinde has continued to shock and amaze with her latest inventions... which seem to be financially backed by the queen....

The reason I mentioned #george and #giygas is because of my main theory regarding Black Butler... that’s it’s largely based on a Nintendo game called Mother3. I mean, that’s what “Mouse3” by “Ninkyodo” refers to, after all. But, as I’ve said in many of my posts about this, it’s not just Mother3 being used for the manga series; it’s the entire game series. And this topic is one of those situations that requires going all the way back to the first installment: Mother. In the US, it was titled EarthBound: Beginnings.

In Mother, a young alien, named Giygas (the translation varies, but this is one of the common ones), is traveling from their home planet, populated by this technologically advanced civilization. Their spacecraft crash lands on Earth and they are taken in by a couple, named George and Maria. They raise them as their own, and they later manage to travel with Giygas back towards their home planet, and Maria stays there... but George returns to Earth... with stolen technology, which he continues to research... and spreads around to other humans. Giygas is sent by their superiors to stop George, because the alien race is worried that humans will eventually use their own technology against them. However, George has died by the time Giygas returns to Earth, so they decide to target George’s descendants. Humans have started to incorporate the knowledge that George brought back; it’s even showing up in some humans’ natural abilities, as if it’s being genetically inherited. We meet one of those descendants, Ninten. He, with the help of friends, has to collect melodies from a song and sing it to Queen Mary, who is... kind of like Maria... but on another plane of existence, called Magicant.

Later, Ness (in Mother2, aka EarthBound) and his pals have to fight people who are under Giygas’ power, including a rather bothersome and wholly self-centered boy named Pokey Minch. By now, Giygas has been driven mad by his futile attempts to stop the spread of this stolen technology and knowledge. Then they have to fight Pokey Minch again, but Pokey has been drastically changed by time-traveling equipment he stole from a human inventor (Dr. Andonuts). Ness and his friends have to fight not just this futuristic version of Pokey but also an unhinged and unleashed version of Giygas; the alien has lost their physical form and now exists as an evil force of immense power. Through prayer (mostly), Ness and his friends are able to banish ... perhaps truly destroy... Giygas, but Pokey escapes to cause problems yet another time.

With Mother3, which never got a worldwide release (which is why Chlaus says in Black Butler that “Mouse3” [and the drugs] were hard to get ahold of in Italy), mirror twin brothers Claus and Lucas get separated after their mother is killed (and their father is too full of grief to help them). Claus ends up missing (he’s dead at the bottom of a cliff), and Lucas and the family dog, Boney, go on a quest to avenge his family. Lucas, Boney, and friends they make have to defeat King Porky; King Porky is what the time-traveling Pokey Minch decides to call himself when he travels to this future setting and settles down to become a tyrant. Giygas seems to be gone, but King Porky still follows Giygas’ destructive life path. King Porky is obsessed with popularity and technological advances. And, at some point, the lifeless body of Claus gets turned into a Fascinating Chimera, and the mirror twin brothers have to compete to fulfill a prophecy... of waking the Dark Dragon. Dr. Andonuts was previously forced to help King Porky, but even he eventually gets revenge.

I have a lot of posts about Mother3 theory, and I’m trying to focus here on a particular aspect, so here are some parallels, particularly regarding technology:

Our earl — Lucas

Real Ciel — Claus

Sebastian, under contract — Boney, the loyal family dog

Sebastian, aka the “Black Butler”, once the contract is fulfilled — Dark Dragon, particularly once the prophecy is fulfilled

Undertaker, bringing otherworldly technology to humans — George

Reaper superiors and/or John Brown — the original manifestation of Giygas and that alien race

Reapers, in general — Magypsies, in general

Prince Soma — Pokey Minch

Prince Soma with the Right Hand of Kali — Pokey Minch with the unhinged Giygas (This parallel would be further strengthened if Prince Soma ends up stealing anything out of Sieglinde’s lab or convinces her to make any sort of contraption for him.)

Queen Victoria, who demands unwavering loyalty and is trying to increase Great Britain’s power through technology and new infrastructure — King Porky, who demands the same and is also focused on infrustrucfure, technology, innovation, etc.

Queen Victoria with John Brown — King Porky drunk on unbridled power, basing his actions on what he thinks Giygas would want of him.

Undertaker, inventor of Bizarre Dolls — Dr. Andonuts, inventor of Fascinating Chimera

Sieglinde, chemist and inventor of various contraptions — Dr. Andonuts (also his younger version, Lloyd), inventor of various contraptions

There are so many other parallels, not just in characters and plots, but also in their timelines. However, like I said... I’m trying to focus on your ask regarding technological anachronisms.

TL/DR: It’s definitely supposed to be the Victorian era, but it’s an alternative universe to our own, so it took some different paths along the historical timeline. Add to that the fact that reapers and demons/angels (or other supernatural beings, like gods) have been intervening in human lives, and advanced technologies and innovations have been introduced along the way because of it.

There are lots of examples of this throughout the series, including the mobile phone used by Vanel’s thugs (Sebastian grabbed theirs; he doesn’t have one of his own). Other examples include TVs, video game consoles, war tanks, radar, and all the contraptions Sieglinde makes for herself and for others, like the Phantom Five.

This all works just dandy with my theory that the manga series is largely based on Nintendo’s Mother game series, since both deal quite a bit with “stolen” technology and runaway technology/innovation.

Thanks for the ask and for letting me screenshot the message to answer in a post. 😊

[mithrilwren]

Initial Nightingale Notes

More Only the Nightingale Sings bonus content! This time, my very first batch of planning notes, which I scribbled down at work sometime in late January 2019, and some reminiscing on how this story came to be. (It’s a LONG post lol)

So, the idea for Nightingale came from a few different sources smushed together. For context, the first episode of CR I ever watched live was Episode 48, on Jan 17 2019. The episode that followed aired on Jan 24, where the gang eventually finds the tunnels to Xhorhas. 

Source 1: I spent most of that episode FULLY convinced Yeza was taken by the Assembly and very confused why the Nein were suddenly going to Xhorhas. I understood after the fact, but I confess I was a little disappointed - I wanted to go to Rexxentrum!  

Source 2: Because the party immediately headed to Xhorhas after finding the tunnels, the internal debate Caleb was having in Felderwin (about whether or not to run away) never got resolved - he basically had no choice but to follow the group, because there was no leaving once they entered the tunnel. I was very interested in that internal conflict (that then became a reoccuring theme in Nightingale) and wished we’d got a chance to see Caleb actually make that decision in canon.

Source 3: I read through a list of angst prompts a while beforehand and came across “Villainous Rescue”. My immediate thought was “oh, wouldn’t it be fun if the Nein were rescued from dire straights by Ikithon”, but never found a suitable premise to pair it with

All three of these ideas coalesced into what would become Nightingale. Sometime in the week between Jan 24 and Feb 2 (when I started the rough draft of Chapter 1) I stole a meeting room at work and started scribbling. The two yellow pages I did in the morning, hoping I could put it out of my mind, but by the afternoon I was totally unfocused on my actual job and decided to spend another half-hour brainstorming. (Hence why the paper changed - I probably grabbed a different legal pad from my desk.) 

Looking back at the writing timeline, I basically started this fic only a couple weeks after catching up on the show itself - wild!

The first thing I wrote were, essentially, ‘intake notes’ for the Mighty Nein - the premise being, what would go into the Assembly’s report upon their capture by Ikithon? IIRC, I decided to set the fic itself in the Soltryce Academy because of how many of these notes fell into the category of “magic training/supervision”.

The second was an inventory of settings, based on the aforementioned intake notes. As you can see, I initially had three locations in mind - the casters in the Academy, Nott and Yasha in the “Seat of Government” (aka, a secret Assembly headquarters, loosely affiliated with the actual government), and Beau in the broader city. Even though Nott almost immediately got moved to the broader city, the idea that Yasha (and Yeza) weren’t actually being held in the Academy, but a third Assembly-run location, actually stuck around for a while in my planning. I believe it was somewhere around Chapter 4 that I realized that splitting up the finale between two locations was going to kill the tension of the climax, and decided to move Yeza and Yasha to the Academy as well.

The next set of notes were all about individual characters, as I was trying to flesh out the basics of what they’d be doing in the story. Overall, these notes were closer to the finished product that I was expecting!

“Caleb - Immediately taken off by Trent, who tries to persuade him that he’s realized the errors of how he pushed Bren too hard, and now it’s time he came back to his birthright. Caleb, knowing his survival depends on putting on a show, acquiesces and agrees to become Trent’s protege once again, while looking for a way to get everyone out. He tells Jester through a book that he is being monitored and cannot talk.” - No big changes here!

“Jester - Jester, when pressed, admits to the divine nature of her magic. When asked for her patron, she says *can’t read this word* the Platinum Dragon, This being a segment of the school, she’s sent to work with a group of acolytes and must fake her way through knowledge of the religion. She uses sending to facilitate group communication.” - No big changes here either, though the meat of her plot with Kirn didn’t come to be until I was writing “Lessons”.

“Fjord - Fjord admits truthfully that he doesn’t know where his power comes from. The mistress concludes he must be a sorcerer and has him sent for evaluation. He hides the existence of his hex blades, tries to act as a *can’t read word* with only minor abilities.” - No big changes, but no huge details either, I was pretty unsure of what I wanted to do with Fjord at this point.

“Caduceus - He successfully passes his work off as tribal magic, which fascinates the scholars. He decides this is a good opportunity to get into about his siblings and has long talks with the librarian. The campus gardens are his favourite spot. All in all, he’s trying to make the most of their stay, if that’s where the Mother wills him to be.” - Oh, the delicious irony of that line about the gardens, as the twist that the plants are all dead didn’t come to me until I was writing “Lessons”. 

“Yasha - In the initial assessment, Trent immediately hits on his interest in her initially. He asks her to help him understand Xhorhasian culture. Not betray, he understands loyalty, but just understand. She’s reticent, and eventually transferred to the Conclave headquarters, where she’s “gently” interrogated.” - I think I got Conclave and Assembly mixed up here. Again, we see that third government location mentioned, that never came to be.

“Beau - Attempts to weasel her way into getting them released using Cobalt Soul know how. This fails, but she does get herself ejected (The mistress basically conjectures the Cobalt Soul is trying to hoard resources from the army.) She must either convince the Cobalt Soul to help her (Dairon in Bladegarden?) or use her own political scheming by going to the seat of government to get folks released.” - So, throughout most of the first few chapters of Nightingale, Beau getting Dairon’s help was ABSOLUTELY the plan. But, flash forward a few eps, and surprise, Dairon’s in Xhorhas! Which majorly threw me for a loop at the time, but ended up making for a much stronger arc for Beau as she was forced to do things on her own. 

“Nott - Trent is curious about a goblin travelling w/ the band. After some quick thinking by Beau, they manage to minimize her connection w/ Caleb, saying instead that she’s a runaway from her tribe. “Who are you loyal to?” “The Empire.” She’s taken away with Yasha to the HQ to provide intel. This is a moral choice for her. Sacrifice the Felderyn goblins and get revenge, but potentially aid the empire too much.” - Notice that this is utter nonsense, and bears no resemblance to what actually ended up happening in the fic? Figuring out what to do with Nott was, at various stages, one of the most difficult parts of this process for me. What I was doing here was grasping at straws, trying to figure out a way that she wouldn’t either be immediately killed or held over Caleb’s head upon capture. And honestly, there wasn’t one. There was no scenario in which Nott being captured wouldn’t be immediately disastrous, not in a situation where the Assembly held all the power. Therefore, she couldn’t be captured, and thus Puff of Smoke was born.

[bangtanficgallery]

Criminal

author: bangtanficgallery

word count: 1751 (maybe more)

warnings: none

genre: criminal!yoongi, fluff

pairing: yoongi x reader

summary: “He is a bad boy with a tainted heart and even I know this ain’t smart, but mama I’m in love with a criminal and this type of love isn’t rational, it’s physical. Mama please don’t cry, I will be alright. All reason aside I just can’t deny, I love the guy”

 “Mom”

“Y/N? Oh my god, Y/N where are you?”

“Mom, just listen to me”

“Where are you? We’ve been looking for you for months I don’t know w-”

“Mom, just stop! Listen what I have to say or else I’m going to hang up and you’re never going to hear about me again”

Suddenly the line got quiet, she’s waiting. Also, she is desperate. Knowing my mom, she would never shut up. I could feel the tears going down my cheeks and my head starting to ache, but I tried my best to keep my voice stable.

“I’m not coming back home” my mom started to speak again but I cut her “I can’t, ok? It’s dangerous for you guys, so I have to disappear”

“Oh my beautiful daughter” She was quietly crying “What happened? Please I miss you, we all miss you”

I should be honest with her. At least for the last time.

“I’m in love with a criminal. It’s not what you dreamed for me, it’s not what I dreamed for me, but still. He may be a killer, a robber, a bad boy” I sighed “But I’ve never met someone like him. I have already been with high-class guys, rich college students and successful CEOs, but none of them treated me good like him”

“My daughter, what are you doing?”

“Sorry mom, but I decided already. I wanna go with him and keep my family safe. I’ve been disappointing you, but I want it. I love you”

I hang up.

1 week ago

“Yoongi, you’re sure this is really necessary?”

“Yes”

“But you already have so much…”

“Hey, listen to me. I can’t take both of us from here if I don’t do this, ok? We already talked about this”

He calmly loaded his gun.

“Promise me you’re not going to use this” I pointed to his gun.

Yoongi smiled to me.

“How a lady like you ended with a guy like me?” he kissed me passionately “You are what I need in my life, I don’t need any of this money since I have you by my side. I finally feel complete. But I have to keep you safe”

Safe is everywhere with him, mostly like this engulfed in his arms.

“Take me with you”

“I don’t want you to get involved in this miserable life plus I don’t want your beautiful face printed in all wanted posters”

“So I have to stay here…”

“And wait for me. You’re my good girl, right?”

I nodded.

“It’s time. See you in a while”

Yoongi quickly pecked my lips and got out of the house. Well, not a house. It’s more like a bunker. I got surprised when Yoongi brought me here for the first time, but I’ve been here for so long that I’m already used. I miss the sunlight, of course; it’s always dark down here. This place is an off-map abandoned park out of town. Yoongi’s bunker is under the ghost train. We have to get into the maintenance room and move away a very heavy iron cabinet and pull the trapdoor under it, go down the wood fragile stairs and walk until reach a vault. Once it’s opened, you can see the house. It’s big and the ceiling is rounded. The floor is white marble and all the expensive furniture is black, I wonder how Yoongi brought all of this here. And everything is black. The sheets, towels, cushions dishcloth… I laughed with myself thinking how soft Yoongi is for white even if his house is all black. I’m the only white thing inside this house. I came to his house with only the clothes I had in my body and only Yoongi could bring me new clothes since he’s the only one who can actually go outside. All white. Soft knee socks, skirts and croppeds, ruffles and lace. Even if I miss my old clothes, I smiled every time Yoongi look at me dressed like this, his love evidently in his eyes

“Why always white Yoongi?” I asked once.

“Because is soft. You made me soft and brought light to my dark  life”

I have nothing to do here since I don’t have internet to keep myself busy. The house is safe for all kind of cyber tracker, so I try my best to occupy my mind with books and Yoongi have plenty of it. I can’t avoid getting worried about him, even knowing that he is smart enough to never get caught. ‘He’s coming back home soon, Y/N. Don’t freak out’ I keep saying to myself. But I couldn’t stop thinking “and if”. Everything can happen since Yoongi is a lone wolf. Of course he have contacts to keep cops and whatever off his ass, but he do everything alone, doesn’t have anyone to backup him. That’s why I always ask him to come, but he always denies. It’s that difficult to use a gun? Of course I don’t understand a thing about this. I was raised in a luxurious house with everything given in my hand. My future was built, I could be rich and successful with my career and have a pampered and high-class life. But I wasn’t happy. Everything seemed too easy, too fake, too… unhappy. I am a hard-working type of person, I like to be the best, but it seemed like I didn’t need to make any effort to have what I wanted to conquer. I had no one by my side. I was lonely. Everyone approached me for a reason, wanting a favour or take advantage of me. My ex-fiancée was a cheater, a bad person and a profiteer guy. Yoongi saved me from him. When he was about to beat me because I “embarrass” him in front of everyone and Yoongi kicked my ex’s soul out and took me with him. It wasn’t hard to fall for Yoongi. He is an amazing person, a fairytale prince despite what he does for living. He’s the only true person I met in my whole life. So I runaway to be with him and I don’t regret. Think so much was making me sleepy. I went back to the silk sheets and fell asleep instantly.

The sound of water running coming for the bathroom woke me up. Yoongi is finally back! I walked to the bathroom discarding my clothes on the way.

“Mind if I join you?”

“You would be doing me a big favour”

I slowly approached him, looking without blink to his face. Yoongi was smiling with his arms opened where I wanted to be so bad. He hugged me and immediately kissed me roughly but softly, making both of us start combustion.  I missed him.

“Don’t be so soft, my flower. I don’t want it to end innocently”

“Take me”

Yoongi laughed, lifting me. I comfortably put my legs around his waist, getting lost in all movements that he was doing to make all of this feel so good.

I couldn’t be tired of Yoongi. Even now when we were collapsed on bed, exhausted, I wanted to show my love for him, caressing all of him that I could see. His milky tattooed skin is soft and beautiful. I got lost in the drawings on his arms and chest, noticing a new addition.

“What’s this?”

“What?”

He looked at me with fake innocence.

“Did you-”

“Yes”

I brushed lightly my fingers on his skin where my name was written. It’s delicate compared to the others. It was close to his heart. I kissed there then kissed my lover. It was a strange feeling of finally have everything I looked for.

“My flower”

“Hum?”

“Let’s be free”

“I’m already free with you, Yoongie”

“I’m talking about being really free. Walking around together, see the sea… So I could take you on a proper date, kiss you under the sunlight”

“Is it possible?”

“Only if you say yes”

“Of course my answer is yes, since if this is what you want to, but how?”

“I have a good friend who asked me to move forward to where he lives a long time ago. He lives in another country”

“Where’s it?”

“Fiji Island”

“Interesting” I laughed.

“I just have to found some fake documents for us and get there. I won’t be afraid of someone take you from me anymore, or do things like this to live. We can be free, have a life, let this life in the past”

His eyes were shining.

“Let’s go there then”

Yoongi laughed and kissed me.

“You gave me purpose. I was just around, having a fake life, telling myself that I was satisfied but I had nothing. I stole and killed, I used to be ok with this, cold-hearted. But now I feel ashamed. I don’t want this life anymore. I want you by my side, having a great life without hiding ourselves”

“I think it’s fate, Yoongi. You saved me too”

“Let’s arrange everything. I love you”

“I love you too”

Yoongi pecked my lips and excitedly got up.

“Where are you going?”

“Ensure our future”

The past week flew. I finally felt useful, helping Yoongi arrange the fake papers and fake documents to get us out of there. We tested everything and contacted a lot his friend, Jimin. He’s very nice and smiley and his very much patient wife helped us with the right place to get good documents with discretion. I was excited and anxious at the same time. Everything could work right or really bad and both of us would end up going to jail. Finally is the last day of our lives here and the beginning of the new life. Yoongi’s hair was dyed blond and I was wearing a cap and covering my face all the way I could. I bought new clothes for me and Yoongi, among other things that we’re going to need in the new country. The only thing I was sad about was the bunker. Yoongi installed explosives and everything is going to blow in one hour. We were already in the way to the airport. I called Jimin asking if is everything alright and ready and he confirmed that they’re waiting for us. When I finished the call, I destroyed the new bright cellphone that I bought with my beautiful fake id.

“I just have to do make one last thing”

“What?” Yoongi asked.

“Call mom”

[my-love-peterp]

Mistaken Chapter Five

IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST DROP ME AN ASK

please like and rb/comment <3

Word Count: 2721 (this actually comprises chapters 7 and 8 on Ao3)

THERE ARE NO ENDGAME SPOILERS, THIS IS A DELAYED UPLOAD FROM AO3

Fic Summary: Peter Parker has been given the responsibility of bringing in a new recruit. Now, as an adult, he realizes that none of the trashy YA novels he read in high school could have prepared him for this. There was a storm on the horizon, and all they could do from the Tower is watch.

Chapter Summary: Lol updating within a few hours after weeks of not updating at all? It’s more likely than you think. HOnestly, not my finest work but I’m so tired and I feel so bad about not getting anything out there sooner. I want to change bits and pieces of this story but my goodness, yeah. So if you’d like to Beta read shit for me, y’all would be much appreciated.

Warnings: honestly idk, if I missed something besides language hmu friends

Chapter One   Chapter Two   Chapter Three   Chapter Four

I ran. There was no stopping me. I stole a cowl from a closet and drifted into the shadows, just long enough to leap from the window.

I materialized and flitted down back alleys until I hit Park Ave. I didn’t know much about this area of New York, but every borough has their drinking holes, right?

Minutes later, I was staggering into a quaint little bar that wasn’t quite the dive that I was looking for, but it would do. This was probably better in any case, fewer leering eyes and a hefty, red-haired, Irish woman who kept my drink full and men away.

Hydra was just one of the many skeletons rattling around in my closet, but they were the Rosetta Stone to my trauma in a lot of ways. Not the foundation, but the guide.

Two more glasses of Lagavulin and those pressing thoughts were kicked to the wayside.

Behind me, the grandfather clock chimed five o’clock. Just call me Jimmy Buffet and saddle me up with a margarita.

What no amount of alcohol could do, unfortunately, was erase the people I’d… met with Hydra. Or lost with them. Most of all, I could never forget my sister.

Brave and stupid drunk, I left my drinking post and headed down Park Avenue rather aimlessly. It felt like I was being drawn in a certain direction, meant to be there, which is absolutely absurd, but I was just drunk enough to believe it.

My feet halted half an hour later outside of a quaint little tattoo parlor. I’d always wanted a tattoo but I’d never had the time nor the money to get one. Fortunately, as a runaway Avenger-in-Training, I had both of those in spades now.

And, as fate would have it, the shop was advertising that they were available for walk-ins today.

Whipping out my new cell phone, I pulled up a picture of what exactly I wanted. My sister and I had always fancied we'd get matching ones someday.

The overly muscled and extremely tattooed man just nodded his ascent and began freehanding a design for the Phoenix on my right side. I was decently numbed from the booze, but as time passed, the more my sides protested in pain. Occasionally, I would feel a quick rush of air push cold wind over my aching skin and nearly groan in pleasure.

Finally, three hours later, I was gingerly easing my shirt back on, sides to be kept wrapped for the next hour or so, in case they started bleeding or weeping plasma and ink.

I stood, signed my name along the dotted line for the payment and stepped out on the street to find none other than Pietro standing, back resting against the side of the building with his arms crossed, obviously waiting for me.

Rather than acknowledge his presence, I moved to hail a taxi. He took that moment to wrap his arms around my middle, sending bolts of pain shooting from my fresh tattoos, and bolted down the street.

Fate, should it exist, obviously had a sense of humor. Minutes later, we were standing in the lobby of Avengers Tower.

Hesitantly, I moved for the elevator doors, wincing with every step as it pulled along my aching muscles, both from the walking and the movement of inked flesh. Pietro followed loosely behind me, as I anticipated. Once he had retrieved me, he certainly wasn’t going to let me escape. He was perhaps the one Avenger I couldn’t simply evade or trick, his eyes caught things as though they were moving half the speed they actually were.

An uncomfortable silence ensued as Pietro pressed the button to take us up to the Penthouse, the de facto floor for team meetings.

Despite receiving an equal number of concerned and suspicious glances, most of the team paid me little to no mind.

Peter gestured to Pietro, eyes questioning, and nods were exchanged. What I wouldn’t give to be able to hear what they were thinking. And maybe it was vain of me to assume that they’d been communicating about me, but I was almost positive.

Lost in my reverie, I almost missed the command Cap gave to Wanda to put me under. I hadn’t even taken a step by the time I was falling to the ground, unconscious, caught in lean arms.

It would be the best rest I’d get for weeks to come.

________________________________________________________________

I woke up in my own rooms, restrained to the bed. What had happened was fairly obvious, considering the only person who was in my rooms besides me was Tony. And he had an Iron Gauntlet trained on me as I came to. I hacked to clear my throat before speaking. “Seems like a bit of overkill Grandpa.”

Tony just glared down at me, not moving a single inch or softening in any way.

I tried again. “So I take it Witchy rummaged around in my head and found some… Not so savory things. Perhaps my stint as a Hydra assassin. Maybe the length of my kill list even. Let me guess, you’re currently prepping a room for me at whatever new and improved raft you built to keep Thanos locked up and never coming back. Fair warning, I’ll never go willingly and I can put up one hell of a fight.”

“Fortunately for you, that decision’s not up to me and would require the input of the feds, which, knowing what we do now, I can fairly certainly say, you’d prefer if they stayed out of it. 12 US government officials assassinated in less than three months by yours truly. Wow. Talk about a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Were I not a better man, I’d shoot you right now.”

“So why are you here Tony, if not to kill me?” I snarled back at him. “What good does me being alive do? To anyone.” That startled him a little bit, shell shocked enough to look up and into my eyes, where I saw my own feral irises reflected.

But he steeled himself again within moments. And then, out of the breast pocket of his blue blazer, he grabbed a sheet of paper.

Not a sheet of paper I realized as he folded it out for me. A picture of a skinny redheaded woman. One I recognized intimately. “Target 17. What do you need to know?” I questioned coldly, unfeeling. That made him jerk backward in his seat and hastily stand, panting and heaving, murderous intent glinting in his brown eyes.

“Her name was Pepper. And she was killed three days before our wedding, carrying my child. So I’d like to know. Was it-,“ he spat out like the words were physically fighting to escape from his body.

“Was it me? No. I was in the wind with my sister for a few months after our covers were almost blown taking out a diplomat in Indonesia. For what it’s worth, I truly am sorry Tony. Especially,” I said, voice dropping to a whisper, “about your son.”

“Excuse me, my what?” Fists clenched, he strode up to the side of my bed, closer to my head. I shied away from him as he bent down and got into my face. “What did you just say to me?”

Fuck. He didn’t know and I just made it ten times worse. The sound of his repulsor charging broke the most pregnant silence I’d ever heard. Before he could fire, though, Thor and Steve burst through the door and caught him as he collapsed in anguish, taking him away, leaving me alone. They knew everything about my time with Hydra. The evil I’d done and the evil I’d allowed to happen. I was the enemy. And I had no backup.

So back to normal.

Hours later, I gave in to my bone-deep weariness and collapsed into sleep. Dream after fever dream encased my drained mind, ephemeral and diaphanous. Most images were forgotten immediately, flighty and fragile as a butterfly’s wing. Others though, others stuck like mosquitos stuck in amber. Flashes.

Light, blood, destruction. Tattooed stars and deep, harrowing scars on ragged faces. Sobbing little boys with green eyes and silky hair.

Despite the intense lunacy and deep feeling of realness, I felt while dreaming, I was aware of a deep, striking pain within myself. It settled in my chest, buried deep, as though I’d replaced my stomach with Mjolnir. The ache was both sharp and dull, full and waning. It signaled that a harsh reality awaited me in the waking world. When I was dreaming it was like the pain had no anchor, no reason for tormenting me, as hapless and defenseless as a newly hatched bird.

When I’m half-awake, like I am now, I know why the pain is here, understand the presence of gut-wrenching guilt and searing hot shame and thus can accept them. I’m not sure which is worse to experience.

Sometimes I’m fully awake, being handed crackers or grapes or bottles of water by a person whose name I don’t know because I’m never cognizant long enough to catalog their face. Seconds later, I’m again drowning, pulled into the depths of my dreamscape.

My reality blurs and the cycle continues, vicious unto the end. And every time I wake, my cheeks are embarrassingly wet. It feels like weeks before I’m awake long enough to realize I’m not alone. That every time I wake, a new face is staring back at me from a different chair in my room.

I come to recognize them again in time. Wanda, Pietro, Bucky, Steve, Vision, even Peter. But never Tony.

I sit up for the first time after what feels like a month, though the limited aching emanating from my bones tells me, logically, that it’s only been a fraction of that time. One either side of my bed is a Maximoff. Wanda looks more concerned than wary. Pietro looks like a lion who caught the scent of an enemy pride.

“Go slowly Kaida,” Wanda urges, “you must be weak. It’s been a few days since you rejoined the land of the living. Her continued inquiries and entreaties fall on deaf ears. As vulgar as it now sounds in retrospect, I knew I had to move or else an accident would occur. I stumbled into my en suite, knowing even without needing to look that they would have removed anything that would have made a suitable weapon.

I also know that, should my biology betray any sign of shifting to make use of my abilities, F.R.I.D.A.Y. would alert the others and the full might of the Avengers would fall upon my head. And Wanda would have me back out in seconds. What couldn’t be stopped of measured for, of course, were things such as my superhuman hearing, that was currently picking up on the muffled conversation the twins were having in my bedroom on the other side of the bedroom door.

“Why are you blocking FRIDAY, we should be alerting the others that the prisoner is awake and ready for their attention.”

“Pietro! She’s not our prisoner,” Wanda reprimanded. “Besides, I wish to have a moment alone with the girl. Even if she is not a child of Strucker, she is what Hydra made her to be, somehow. I just… I’d like for her to have a sympathetic listener at first. We never got the benefit of the doubt. If you remember we weren’t exactly unwilling in our crusade against the Avengers.”

Pietro just grunted in agreement but remained tense at his sister's side. I quickly twisted off the faucet and reentered the bedroom. Rather than speak, Wanda simply patted the seat of the chair across from hers, indicating that I should take a seat. It was the gentlest command ever issued. I slid back until my shoulders brushed the high back of the chair.

Wanda opened her mouth to speak, but I cut her off with a gesture of my hands. I leaned forward, extending my head towards her.

“Just look, let my mind answer your questions. I don’t know that I’d have the strength to or that we’d have the time before the others come charging in. If I’m going to die, I need at least one person to know and believe the truth. Maybe help persuade Captain Rogers to end my life swiftly. It’s more than I deserve.”

With that Wanda, eyes shining, placed her hands on my temples and breathed deeply as we were both transported to an infinitely darker place, many years ago.

Sinking through my memories was like drifting uncontrollably through a minefield. Tiny bursts of anguish shot through my mind as Wanda relived my upbringing with my sister, the house of horrors that was our home, being tapped to join Hydra and agreeing without ‘persuasion'. The missions, targets and our downfall. My sister's son. And finally, the mission that sent us both running for the hills...

The time since then. One dead-end job to another, sisters working to support each other, all while looking for the last remaining piece of our family. And, then that day had come. The snap and dust. Guilt flooding me and overwhelming a sense of horror as time passed.

Homeless until my… boyfriend. The horror that home turned into, one that I do still feel as though I deserved. Until one night he went too far and I left. The night Peter found me. Of course in the midst of all this, you had my ‘heroics' that mostly consisted of helping women out of situations I understood all too well. And that damned school. So Peter was looking for me at the behest of the Avengers after the most recent event had even landed on the front page of the New York Times.

My deeply buried need to have somewhere to call home, to have not just someone on my six but to have a family. All the emotions that Hydra and I, through my conditioning at their hands, thought of as compromising and weak.

I had agreed, understanding that I could play the role of Asset for the good guys for once, maybe correct some of the horrific circumstances I had had a hand in creating. My mission would be protecting others for the first time. Only in my wildest dreams had I imagined I'd ever have a family again, but they had begun to feel like home, in spite of the secrets I kept. Now that was ruined. That was inevitable, I reminded myself. Because of who I am, I could never have a family. I didn't deserve one.

“No,” Wanda said, interrupting our shared stream of thoughts, "not ruined, just a little, broken. They accepted us in time." Pietro nodded, eyes alighting on his sister and then on me. Curiosity burned in his soul-deep gaze. He leaned forward and used his abnormally large hand and rough fingers to cover his sister's hand, which I just realized was now twined in mine.

Connected like this, I felt the smallest flicker of hope come to life in me, setting my heart aflutter. Understanding and acceptance filled their eyes and I did tear up a little. I never expected this.

“You are not the monster your parents created. Nor the asset that Hydra trained. You are more than that Kaida. Let us help you find it. Find yourself.”

I nodded, leaning into her embrace as she gripped me by the shoulders and kissed my cheek.

At Wanda’s urging, I stepped into the shower, running my hand through my hair as nearly a week’s worth of grime was stripped off my body. I think it was safe to say that I’d never felt more confused and well, vulnerable in my life.

For the time being, I didn’t have a mission or a purpose. My handler, or the surrogate my mind had appointed was questionable at best now that all had been revealed. I didn’t like being left to my own mind and devices. Too many thoughts would rattle around inside my head. After a few hours, the twins left again, gentle eyes and kind reassurances.

Later and not seconds after my stomach rumbled with a fierceness I had forgotten it had, my door opened and a tray of food entered, held by Bucky, the Winter Soldier.

A/N: I’m uploading another chapter tonight that I am formatting and scheduling right flipping now so I don’t flake again. Really pumped for the new fic I’m starting though!

taglist: @peeterparkr @laurfangirl424 @private-bucky-barnes

[virmillion]

Ibytm - T minus 37 seconds

Masterpost - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter - ao3

Words: 4,849

In the few days since Virgil walked out (on Logan, on the planning, on everything ), Logan has accomplished next to nothing. There were complications that kept the office closed a few days longer, all of which Logan spent pacing the apartment and sending countless unanswered texts to Virgil.

To get technical, Logan spent the first hour or so sitting at the table, motionless and staring at the papers. Next came a couple hours’ worth of punching the air, punching pillows, punching pretty much anything insignificant enough that it wouldn’t cause concern upon being punched. Following that little rage fest, Logan realized maybe he should try to talk to the runaway would-be groom. It started with one text every few hours, then once an hour, every half hour, and ultimately Logan threw his phone in a rage at (a carefully selected soft spot on) the couch and stormed into the bedroom to sulk.

Cut to now, where Logan is hunched over on the recliner and staring at his silent phone. Not one answer. Not even a read receipt. Nothing so small as social media activity, like a relationship status change from ‘engaged’ to ‘moving on and better for it.’ Logan briefly considers posting wanted signs around the building, but ultimately decides against it—mostly because his printer is broken. Finally, he snatches up his phone and does something he never would’ve expected of himself.

He calls Virgil.

This is an incredibly desperate last ditch effort, since Logan knows how much Virgil hates talking over the phone, but he’s desperate. The phone rings softly in his ear. One ring, two, three, four—

Someone picks up.

“Virgil, oh my gosh, I’m so glad I reached you, I didn’t mean any of it when I—”

The voice that interrupts him does not belong to Virgil. “Hey, Logan, this is Patton.”

“Patton? What—where’s Virgil? Why do you have his phone? Is Virgil okay? Is he hurt?”

“He—he’s fine, Logan. He’s perfectly alright, but he wanted me to ask you to, um, to stop texting him. And I guess to stop calling now, too. Please. Sorry.”

“Can you at least tell him—”

“No, I really—I don’t think that’s my place, really, to share whatever it is you want to tell him. I think you need to tell him yourself, and only when he’s ready to see you. On his terms.”

“Patton, I can’t exactly do that if I don’t know where he is.” There’s a kind of stilted silence, where only the muffled mumbles of Patton’s voice make it over the receiver. Logan can just barely hear the faintest s and t sounds, but that’s it.

A soft inhale makes it across and Logan’s breath catches in his throat, but his hopes immediately falter when Patton’s voice is the one to return. “He doesn’t want to talk right now.”

“But I need to talk to him about—”

“He doesn’t want to hear it. I’m sorry, Logan, but I really have to stick with what Virgil wants here. I think you need to hang up now.”

“Patton, wait, please, I need to talk to Virgil, I need him to hear—” Click.

Logan is pretty sure that’s the sound of his heart splintering into pieces. He glances at the list of recent calls, almost none of them outgoing. Micah, Cassidy, Micah, Joy, the main office line, Micah, Micah, Micah, Cadmium. Micah likes to call him with updates about the local restaurant scene. Logan holds back tears as he switches over to his recent texts, all to Virgil. He slumps on the couch, reaching out a hand to steady himself with every passing Cadmium, Cadmium, Cadmium, a never-ending list chronicling three years that he threw away in a few seconds because he didn’t agree with Virgil’s career choices and drove away the only person who seems to actually like talking to him or tolerate—

Logan switches to his contacts list. It’s not terribly long, and it matches his incoming calls almost point for point. The only additions are his parents and Roman. Alex refuses to give out their phone number when they can just borrow signal from whoever’s nearby. Saving minutes, to put it in their own words. Tough to save what you never had in the first place, but Logan is hardly one to talk.

He quickly rules out most of the people from the office as well as the building itself, as he doesn’t need to bother his coworkers on their day off. His parents certainly don’t need to worry themselves with something so trivial as this, and Cadmium is out for obvious reasons. He could probably bug the newer interns, but he’s felt awkward talking to them ever since the main huddle with Roman, Micah, Alex, Joy, and Cassidy fizzled out. A few years’ work together, all down the drain. He tries Joy first, given that they have that candy bar nickname deal going—or they did, though it’s been a while since they last did that pas de deux—but she doesn’t answer.

“I guess I do talk to Roman sometimes,” Logan reasons to himself. “Nowhere to go but up, right? Rock bottom Roman, don’t wear it out. Already talking to myself, so jot that down, surely I should mark this as being my lowest of lows. Don’t call yourself Shirley.”

He keys in Roman’s number. There’s a ring, another, too many rings, way too many, and just as Logan is convinced he should hang up and sulk in silence some more, someone answers. Hopefully the person he actually called this time, and not a messenger middleman intent on crumbling his soul like a Nature Valley granola bar. Hopefully, even if it is another messenger, it’s not one of Roman’s rotating one night stands or something.

Logan really doesn’t know all that much about Roman.

“Go for Roman, what’s pop-rockin’?”

“Hello, this is Logan Walders, and did you steal that turn of phrase from Micah?”

“Ha! Please, Micah stole it from me. I’m the originator, he’s just a petty copycat.”

“Yes, great, very good, so the reason I called you—”

“Hey, can you believe the office is closed again? I mean, come on, right? Great news, yeah? I’ve been putting off this major project for, like, ever, and it’s not like I’m actually gonna use this free time, but hey, day off, you know? Hope we still get full pay.”

“Roman—”

“Plus, I know you’ve got those huge reports due up soon, and weren’t you trying to submit those forms for the training program before the early admission deadline?”

“Yes, but I wanted to ask you—”

“Or no, you already had the forms submitted, didn’t you? You were just waiting for Katie-Lee to give you the go-ahead, weren’t you?”

“ Miss Katie-Lee, and yes, but that isn’t why I—”

“Right, her, isn’t she great? Still can’t believe she gave me that promotion right after you, makes me think there was some kind of nepotism involved, since it came right after your triple boost up, y’know?”

“Roman!”

“What’s pop-rockin,’ my good man?”

“Roman, Virgil left.”

A beat of silence.

Another.

Another.

“Virgil did what?”

“Virgil—he—I said some stupid stuff about how he doesn’t work a quote unquote real job , and he walked out, and I don’t know what to do, and I can’t—”

“I’m on my way.”

“Wait, Roman, don’t just—” Click. Logan wonders whether he’ll ever be able to get through a phone call without having to hear that infernal noise against his will. Probably not any time soon, if ever.

So he sits. And he sulks. And he waits for the world to stop turning. And he sits. And he sits. And he sits and he sits and he sits and he sits and maybe a tiny little tear leaks out of his eye as he sits and he sulks and he wishes he could have Virgil beside him to make it all just go away. Like he did a couple days ago.

Eventually, there’s a knock on the door, and Logan just about leaps out of his skin before he realizes that Virgil wouldn’t be knocking, since he has his own key. Logan is not as fast in getting to the door as he could be once he realizes this.

Seeing Roman on the other side is more jarring than one might expect, until it’s considered what Roman has elected to wear on his day off.

An off the shoulder, deep ruby top, paired with a pale pink scarf, a plaid red jacket tied around his waist, and torn up dark grey leggings. To be honest, the high heeled white ankle boots just pull the whole look together. So maybe you can imagine Logan’s surprise when this is the first outfit he’s seen besides his own in days.

“Roman, what are you—how did you even know where my new address was?”

“Wow, you live like this?” Roman steps past Logan into the apartment, glancing around and ignoring Logan’s protests.

“I don’t—how did you get this address?”

“I make it my business to know where my coworkers live for impromptu surprise parties as well as emergencies, so there’s never time wasted trying to deal with travel apps and messages, y’know?”

“I never gave you clearance to see—”

“And I never asked, which was obviously the right move, as I’m here right now, when you so obviously need me.” Roman stops in front of the couch and turns to face Logan, holding his arms out to the side. Looking for a hug, apparently.

“What are you doing.”

“You need to hug it out.”

“I do not need to hug it out. What are you doing in my home.”

“Hug it out. I’m not leaving until you do.”

Logan throws his hands in the air and huffs, toeing the door shut and trudging his way into Roman’s boa constrictor hug. He freezes, melts into it for a split second, and pushes himself away. He also pushes away the urge to run back to the comfort of Roman’s arms, but we’re not talking about that right now. “So tell me how you got into my secure personal file without my permission or written consent.”

“Not important.”

“I really think it is, though.”

“Okay, but, like, it isn’t, though. What’s important here is what’s going on between you and Virgil.” Logan blinks, unaccustomed to Roman being the one to steer the conversation in the right direction. “So tell me what happened. Start with why you decided it wasn’t important that I hear about you getting engaged sooner, then skip ahead to why I’m here. Leave out the part about me accidentally-on-purpose stealing your address.”

Logan lowers himself to the couch again and lets it all out at once, trying not to notice how awful each word sounds as he hears it fall from his own mouth. “It’s stupid, isn’t it? It’s not like I can judge the jobs he chose to have, can I? I mean, he’s had these jobs longer than he’s known me, let alone how long we’ve been together. It’s all so stupid.”

“That’s not—it’s more complicated than that, and clearly you know it, or you wouldn’t have called me in the first place.��

“But I still shouldn’t have—”

“But you did, and you can’t take it back, and that’s okay, isn’t it? Because you would’ve had to talk about it sooner or later. You got it out of the way, and that’s all that really matters, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know. I just feel like the worst person in the world right now.”

“Low bar, but okay. You had the discussion—”

“More of a yelling match.”

“—and now you have to deal with the fallout. Do you know where he is right now?”

“Probably hating me and every word that’s ever had the misfortune of leaving my mouth.”

“Not a valid or accurate answer, my guy. You need to talk this out with him, and the longer you wait, the worse it’ll hurt when it heals.”

Logan cocks his head to the side and gives Roman a long look. “Since when were you allowed to be smart about this kind of thing?”

“Since it’s in my name. Roman-tic.”

“More like your name is in the word, I would say.”

“Well, anyway, you need to talk to him. Do you have an actual, legitimate idea of where he might be?”

“Somewhere with Patton, probably, since Patton picked up the last time I called Virgil’s phone.”

Roman jumps to his feet and bolts for the door, leaving a very confused Logan alone on the couch. “What’re you waiting for? Let’s go!”

“Go where?”

“Patton’s been my best friend since, like, diapers, basically. He doesn’t like to be on the phone when he’s on shift at the museum, so he’s probably at home. I think tonight’s his night with his kid, actually, but Ariel might be there, too. I’m over there, like, every third day. You should know that by now, I mean, we’ve had coffee together, like, so many times. Come on, man.”

Logan nods absently, his mind prompting him with a vague memory of when he saw Roman hanging out at the museum on that first real date with Virgil. Maybe he’s just a little too hysterical at the moment to keep track of the people he’s been friends with for over two years. It’s not as if Roman didn’t already mention Patton constantly before Logan even met Virgil. Logan just wasn’t listening back then.

He barely remembers to grab a jacket from the coat rack as he follows Roman out the door, shouldering it on as they thunder down the stairs. His new cardigan. How appropriate.

“My car’s right over there, you can hop in the passenger seat. It’s maybe a ten minute drive, tops, but you have to listen to my music. I’ve got a good rhythm going with this playlist right now.”

Logan complies, and most of the trip is just a blur as he runs over the possible scenarios that might play out here. Virgil hates him and dumps him and flees the country. Virgil hates him and dumps him and starts dating Patton. Virgil hates him and dumps him and starts dating Roman. Virgil hates him and dumps him and steals Miss Katie-Lee’s job to hold a sadistic kind of power over him. Virgil hates him and dumps him and that’s just how it’s going to be, and there’s nothing Logan can do about it.

It is not a very fun car ride.

Logan vaguely registers Roman shifting the car into park, but he’s too focused on the lines of cookie cutter houses to react to it. A bunch of prim little gardens along prim little buildings that probably hold prim little families that have never had prim little fights because their prim little parents hate their prim little husband’s prim little jobs.

He traces his eyes down the sidewalk, watching a squirrel chase an imaginary acorn. Maybe he’s actually watching the imaginary acorn roll up the tree looming over the road. Maybe the squirrel isn’t chasing anything at all. Who’s to say? Certainly not him.

“Logan?” Logan offers a vague grunt of acknowledgement. “Logan.”

“Yeah, buddy.”

“We’re here.”

“We are.”

“So you need to get out of the car now.”

“I do not need to do that.”

“You do.”

He does.

He takes his sweet time unbuckling and getting out, closing the car door as softly as possible behind him. “Whoops, ha, didn’t quite close all the way, let me just—”

“Logan,” Roman says firmly. He leans across the seat to close the door himself. “Go.”

Logan blows out a big breath with his cheeks puffed up, turning to face the prim little house—or is this one a little prim house? You know, the one with a cute little set of bright blue flowers around the personalized address sign to match the boxes of plumbagos and hydrangeas.

His feet, apparently more impatient than Roman, carry his body to the front door without his permission, and his finger lifts to the doorbell long before he notices how high his hopes have risen. He wonders whether someone could see them floating over his head if they looked close enough. The bell chimes a bright, lilting melody that rings in his ears, still echoing through the house when the door swings open to reveal Patton in pajama pants and bunny slippers.

“Hey, Logan.” There’s no cheer in his voice, and Logan thinks falling straight to the center of the earth sounds pretty good right about now. “What’re you doing here?”

“I, uh, Roman brought me.” Logan angles his chin toward the car, where Roman is sticking his head out the window.

“Hi, Patton!” he yells, waving his hand excitedly.

Patton waves back, then returns his focus to Logan, his demeanor shifting from cold to cheerful and back in an instant. “Virgil explicitly said he didn’t want you coming around. D’you remember that?”

“I know, I know, but just—can you give him a message for me?”

Patton folds his arms and clicks his tongue, running his eyes along the top of the doorframe. “I guess I could, but I can’t promise he’ll want to hear it.”

“I—I know that.” Logan hesitates, unsure how to say what he needs to say when he knows it’ll have to filter through Patton’s head, through Patton’s voice. Yeah, he trusts the guy, he’s gone out for coffee with him quite a few times before, but personal things are personal for a reason. He swallows. “I know he won’t want to hear it, but I still need to say it.”

“Might want to be quick about it. Think your ride’s getting kind of impatient.” Patton nods at the car, where Roman is enthusiastically dancing to a song Logan doesn’t recognize.

“Just—just tell him I’m really sorry, okay? I know that’s lame, and cheap, and doesn’t even begin to describe how awful and gross and terrible I feel about what I said—well, more how I said it, because I do think it’s a conversation we need to have eventually—but anyway, I need him to know I feel like complete crap for what I said and how I said it.

“I shouldn’t have been so harsh out of nowhere when he’s made it clear before that it’s not a conversation he’s ready to have yet, and I should’ve been more accepting of his terms, and I should’ve just accepted that I was having a rough day, and I unfairly took it out on him, and I shouldn't have blamed him, and I messed up so, so bad, and I know that, and I just really, really, really need him to know that I get that I made a mistake, and I was in the wrong, and I just need to talk to him again, even if it’s for him to yell and scream at me and tell me how awful I am because obviously that’s what I deserve, or I wouldn’t be here.” Logan exhales, a big, loud, broken noise, and shakes his head, and stares at his shoes, and wishes he were on Neptune right about now.

He glances to the side when he feels something soft and heavy come to rest on his shoulder. Patton’s hand. He follows the line up to Patton’s shoulder, his chin, his eyes, and pretends not to notice the water swimming there. Or wait, no, maybe that’s not Patton’s eyes welling up. Maybe it’s Logan’s. Neptune is only about twelve earth years away.

“It’ll be okay,” Patton murmurs, pulling Logan into a careful hug. “It’s gonna be okay, I promise.” Logan tries to stay stiff, to not accept the embrace from the person keeping him from the only guy in the world he wants to see right now, but he can’t really help himself. He buries his nose in Patton’s hair and sniffs and furrows his brow and tries to hold in the soft sobs as he chokes for air.

“Logan?” Logan is pretty sure his heart stops beating right about then.

He looks up and over Patton’s shoulder to see Virgil standing around the corner, arms wrapped around himself as if to keep warm. “Virgil, I—”

“Don’t, not yet,” Patton murmurs, pushing Logan away. He glances back at Virgil, his gaze a silent question, and Virgil lifts his chin ever so slightly. Patton looks to Logan. “I’ll be out here, give you some privacy.” His voice up until now, save for the initial coldness, has been relatively soft, but his grip on Logan’s arm is suddenly unbearably tight as he yanks him closer. Logan tries not to shudder at the feeling of Patton hissing a warning directly into his ear. “If I hear so much as a peep of distress from Virgil, I will not hesitate to have you thrown to the curb in ten seconds flat, so don’t you dare try me.”

Logan’s eyes go wide and he nods, flattening himself against the wall as Patton strides out. Logan glances at Virgil and is pretty sure he can feel his heart literally imploding. “Hey, Cad—Virgil.”

“Hey.” It’s all Logan can do not to sprint to Virgil and wrap him in a hug, but he manages to restrain himself. For now, at least. “You can come in, I guess.” Virgil turns on his heel and shuffles deeper into the house—presumably to the living room, where Logan follows silently.

In a big room with vaulted ceiling and comfy furniture, Virgil slumps on one of the larger couches and stares blankly at Logan, who stays standing. “Well? Say your piece already so you can go. What do you want to talk about?”

“I—everything, I think. I wanted to apologize.”

“Great. Do that and go.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Underwhelming. Great to see you again. Bye bye.”

“Wait, I didn’t—that’s not how I wanted this to go.”

“Then why don’t you tell me how you did want it to go, because so far, I’m not impressed.”

Logan forces a deep breath through his lungs and prays it’ll be enough to keep himself going. Somehow, he doubts it. “I was wrong to go off at you, and I get that, and I’m sorry. I still think it’s something we do need to talk about, but I shouldn’t have sprung it on you like I did, so I’m sorry for doing that to you.”

“Cool.” Virgil’s stiff response hurts worse than if he would just lash out or scream or something, and Logan kind of wants to scream himself.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“You don’t have anything you want to say to me?”

“Logan.” Logan hates how cold his voice is. “I’m not going to apologize for walking out on an attack on my life choices just because it would soothe your ego.”

“Well, no, I wouldn’t expect you to do that, but aren’t you mad at me? Don’t you have anything to get off your chest?”

“Why yes, Logan, I am mad. Thank you for asking, and for considering my perspective for once. I’ll make sure not to let it get to my head. Or did you just wear that cardigan to make me feel better? Aw, Logan, you shouldn’t have.”

“Okay, so you don’t want to yell at me? Get loud, blow up, start screaming?”

“Not really. I know you made the choice to be a jerk, so I’ve made the choice not to deal with it. Pretty simple, really. I’d expect a rocket scientist genius like you to be able to figure it out, even without doing any actual rocket science.”

Logan elects to ignore that little jab. “You don’t want to yell, to let it out? It’s not important enough to you that you vocalize your anger? It’s not important enough for you to fight over it?”

“No.”

“ I’m not important enough to you that you’d want to fight over it?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“That’s familiar, isn’t it? Because when we were twisting my words around, you sure didn’t care about the letter of the language, did you?” Logan can feel himself getting hysterical now, louder by the second, but he doesn’t care. “Does it bother you to have your words twisted around and thrown back at you like that?”

“Sure it does, but why should you care? Not like it’ll harm your precious little office job.” Virgil’s calm, steady voice is only that much more infuriating, and Logan wants to throw something.

“Don’t you want to scream? To yell, to tear me to pieces?”

“Why?”

“Come on!” Logan is desperate now, balling his hands into fists at his sides, working the muscles in his jaw and wishing Patton would follow through on his little threat right about now. “I’m being such an ass to you right now, why won’t you fight back? Yell, scream, tell me how awful I am to say all this shit to you, about you!”

“Do you want me to do that?”

“Stop being so damn calm and just tell me how much I suck, how awful I am, how hard I insulted you, how hard I am insulting you just by being here when you told me to stay away and why I’m in the wrong and you deserve so much better than a pompous perfectionist who can’t handle even the smallest thing going wrong in his perfect world without tearing the whole production to pieces because one single variable has the nerve to go against the arbitrary grain!”

Virgil doesn’t even blink, his expression painfully neutral. Fewer emotions on his features than there are ripples on a frozen pond on a windless day.

“Scream! Yell! Curse or break or something or anything, I don’t care, but give me some kind of reaction, tell me we jumped into this engagement thing too soon and too fast, tell me I was wrong to blow up at you like that and like this so we can just get it over with and you can dump me and tell me how much you hate me and we can both be done with this mistake of a relationship!”

A painful beat of silence. Logan relaxes his fists, breathing heavily and wishing his face weren’t as pink as he knows it is. It always gets so blotchy, so messy, so horrible on the rare occasions he gets all worked up crying like this, an irrational, ridiculous mockery of his usual put-together facade. There’s a reason he doesn’t let himself break down like this when he can help it.

Evidently, he couldn’t help it this time.

He can’t even bring himself to look at Virgil, just trying to focus on a fiber in the carpet and sniffling quietly.

“You think this relationship is a mistake?” Virgil’s voice is soft, gentle, hesitant, and it’s enough to bring Logan to his knees. He sinks to the ground, ducking his chin to his chest and just letting his shoulders shake in the weighted silence. “Logan, do you really think we’re a mistake?” He feels his whole body shudder when Virgil’s fingers graze under his chin. “Logan, look at me.”

“I can’t.”

“Logan, look at me.”

“I can’t.”

Virgil doesn’t seem to hear this, or if he does, he doesn’t care, as he presses his knuckles softly against Logan’s adam’s apple. Logan chokes back a sob. “You think that us being together is a mistake?”

“I—I don’t—I can’t—”

“Hey. Hey, Logan, look.” Virgil waves his other hand in front of Logan’s face, the glint of the light catching on the ring around his finger. “Look at this, look, look here, you see?” He pulls the ring to the tip of his finger, not quite removing it all the way as he holds it before Logan’s eyes to show off the inscription. “‘I’ll bring you the moon.’ Remember when you promised me that?”

Logan hiccoughs. “I—yeah, yeah, I do. I do.”

“So you remember that you haven’t followed through on that yet.”

“I do.”

“So you know that this is just one little road block on a long trip that we’ve agreed to take together, and you know that I don’t think this is a mistake.”

“I don’t—”

“Logan.” Virgil’s voice is soft but clipped, pleading. “I need you to tell me that you know we aren’t a mistake.”

“I know we aren’t a mistake,” Logan tells the floor.

“Tell it to me .”

“I know we aren’t a mistake,” Logan tells Virgil’s left ear.

“To me, Logan. Please?”

“I—” Logan hesitates, his voice catching when he sees that glimmer in Virgil’s eyes. “I know we’re not—I know we aren’t a mistake.”

“Good.” Virgil’s voice sounds about as broken as Logan feels, and he slides off the couch to join Logan on the floor, wrapping him in a loose hug.

It’s not as extravagant as Roman’s, not as steadying as Patton’s, but it feels like home, and there on the floor in Virgil’s arms, Logan exhales.

[ikikikii]

The way I see it: Tenno

Day one; the first meeting

 She was there, her heart was racing super-fast. Jakarta, the only city that she never thought of going there alone. Not ever, until she knew him. She smiled as she walked down the train and out of the train station, her uncle was waiting for her. “How was the journey?” he asked “It was fine. I couldn’t sleep at all” she answered “What’s the plan?” “I don’t know, my friend will pick me up around one and we will hang out. But, I don’t know, I’m so tired to be able to hang out all day.” “Hahahahaha eat and take a short rest later, you’ll be fine.” She nodded. They continue the journey home with a lot of silence. She was busy adoring the big city with her eyes. Sometimes, her uncle explain some places which she couldn’t imagine or even understand. But she was fine and happy, so she pretended to listen to her uncle carefully.

 After the short nap she took, she prepared herself to hang out with her friend. She was going to pick her up soon. “Don’t you need more sleep, young lady?” asked her aunt while gave her a cup of tea “I’m fine, aunty.” She smiled and finished her tea in one go. Not long after that, her friend came. She waved to her aunt and uncle as she went with her friend. “So, I will have a short class after this and you will wait for me until five. After that, let’s have some coffee” Freya started the conversation “Hmmm, can I not wait for you at your campus? Can I go to my friend’s house?”  She replied “You have a friend? Here?” she was shocked “yeah, I guess” “Well, up to you, do as you want, text me later” she nodded. They talked a lot in the car, it was their first meeting after a year and a half. She told Freya about the friend she wanted to meet. Freya looked at her eyes, “do you really want to do this?” she nodded. There was a fire in her eyes that even Freya couldn’t explain. “We’re here” they get off of the car. Freya hugged her “Don’t break yourself again. Last time was a mess” she said “I know, I won’t, I promise” she said. She was unsure with her answer either. While waiting for her grab bike, she was just thinking of doing what she wanted or not. But, she knew she has nothing to lose.

 ***

 She was standing there in front of the McDonald's which is only 5 minutes away from his house. “Should I do this? Or no? He won’t like it, it’s a surprise that will make him mad.” She talked to herself “Or let’s just walk past his house and go back here? Took a video and told him I was there. But, I know that will make him mad. God damn it!!! Why am I even doing this? Why am I here? Geez!!” her mind was scrambling, she couldn’t thinking straight. He was her first time in many things. He was the reason she stepped out from her comfort zone. “This is crazy, I’m going crazy. This bitch is craaaaaazy” she cursed herself. She walked down to his house. She was scared to death, her legs was trembling but she pushed herself to walk to his house.

 “This is the last corner to his house, that’s the store, it must be his house” her heart raced fast, every time she stepped closer to his house it raced twice faster. “Okay crazy girl, what have you done? Walk away, he might be sitting on the terrace with his friends. Walk faster you crazy bitch!!” “Why don’t you stop and knock on his door and scream “tadaaaaa, I’m here” surprise him, kiss him, and runaway!” she shook her head as hard as she could. Her devil and angel were bickering about what she should do. She took out her phone and she took a video of her walking in front of his house. She sent it to him then she walked away. She was afraid, it’s scary for her. The things that she did that day wasn’t her at all. It wasn’t never her thing.

 She was half running, leaving his house with her head down. Then she stopped “Wait dummy, you don’t know this side of the road. Turn around and run!!” her angel shouted. She followed her, she turned herself around and walk on the other side of the road. When she was walking, someone opened the fence of his house. “IT’S HIM!!!” both of her angel and devil screamed, she was shocked, stoned for a second “you can just shout “THIEF!!” if you want, he stole your heart anyway” her devil giggled. “TENNO” she called him, she was a bit chocked. This was the bravest thing she could do, even though she had already imagined wilder things in her head. He looked confused, “TENNO” she repeated awkwardly. She pulled herself together and walked crossing the street “Hi!” she smiled. “How? What are you doing? How long have you been there?” shocked and surprised, he asked her. She lifted her shoulder “I don’t know, I think I just popped out like magic” she said. “Come in, I was just about to go to the gym” “No, no. I’ll go, just do your thing” “You’re here anyway, come in” he led the way, she followed him.

 She sat on a chair “So, this is what it’s like in reality” she murmured while sipping her coffee float. He sat in front of her watched her as if she wasn’t real. “How did you get here again? How do you even know my address?” he asked “You told me once, you sent me videos and pictures, so I let google do its thing, I guess” she answered as calm as she could. Her heart was racing so fast, he might never imagined. She tried to stay calm when she couldn’t. She wanted to touch him, hugged him, kissed him, but she couldn’t. It was their first meeting and she has that first meeting boundaries that she, herself, couldn’t violate. She looked at him, he was just like any of her friends; a smoker, heavy drinker, liar, boaster, and all the things that she usually avoid. But he’s different, she didn’t know what it is but she can feel it. Was it only her feeling? She wants him more than before she met him. “I’m going to smoke, you could move over there” “It’s fine, I can smoke along” “No, your lungs” he remembered. She smiled and moved her seat a bit further to him. Everyone there can just feel the awkward atmosphere between them, silence.

 Her phone buzzed, a text from Freya:

“Where are you?”

“Still at his house”

“Shall we go now?”

“Yeah, wait. I’ll be there”

“Ok”

“I think I’m going to go now, my friend is waiting” she broke the silence “Why? Tell her to come here.” He wondered “Nah, we have to go somewhere and I’m too tired too, so I’m saving up some energy to sleep early later” she giggled, he smiled. “How will you get there?” “Grab will” she smiled while ordering her grab. It didn’t take too long for the grab to arrive. “Be careful” he said, she smiled as she jumped up to the bike. She waved to him. Suddenly, the weather turned cold “Jakarta has never been this cold before” she thought. Her heart was broken.

  I get way to sensitive when I’m attached to someone

I’ll detect a slight change in their tone

And suddenly I’m wondering what went wrong

-unknown

[theo-loves-broadway]

You Matter To Me

Ok, so I wrote this and already put it on AO3, but I know some people can’t comment/leave suggestions there, so I’m putting it on Tumblr! I’ll leave it underneath a cut so those who don’t want to see it can merely scroll through without seeing a block of text. 

Also, this is based on the promo for the next episode (2x19 or 2x20, i think), and the song Jonah sings is You Matter to Me from Waitress the musical.

Jonah could hear the hammering of applause for the act right before him, a magic act. He'd peering through the black curtains from offstage, all his heavy breathing being absorbed by the thick fabric. Setting his guitar down on the stool, he placed a hand over his chest, his heart high-fiving him at an alarming speed.

Breathe, Jonah, breathe he thought to himself, attempting to calm himself down in vain. Telling himself to calm down was only going to make him focus on calming down and how he couldn't do it and how hard his heart was beating and how quickly he was breathing and--

"Jonah?" a voice pierced the air, Jonah snapping out of his runaway train of thought. It was the leader of the recital, Mr. Galen, approaching him with a sense of urgency. "You're up next, kid," he stated, taking a look at Jonah. His cheeks were red, and sweat beads began to form at Jonah's hairline. "Is everything okay?" he asked, a sliver of concern in his voice.

You're fine, you're fine, you're fine, Jonah mentally reminded himself, before meeting Mr. Galen's gaze. "Oh, yeah, dosh, err--yeah, I'm fine. A little nervous, but fine," he added quieter, as the previous performer gathered his things and exited stage left. Man, was it that obvious that he was freaking out? He reached his hand up to his forehead and swiped at his hairline, his sweaty palms picking up the excess moisture. Gross, he thought, puffing out a breath of air. Just a few minutes on stage, and then you're done. Just a few minutes, he repeated mentally, shakily reaching for his guitar.

Mr. Galen gave Jonah a pat on the back before telling him "Don't worry, Jonah. You've been practicing for weeks, and I know you know the song. Heck, you could probably play it in your sleep!" he joked, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he walked away.

"And now, guys, gals, and non-binary pals," began the announcer, her microphone a little too close to her mouth for Jonah's comfort, "I'd like to introduce the one, the only, the--" she paused, squinting at the card in her hand, "--the, uh, docious magocious...Jonah Beck!" she finished, shaking her head in confusion. This earned a snort from Cyrus in the crowd. He was so proud that his best friend was facing his fears head on--and that he used docious magocious to describe himself; THAT was golden.

The guitar nearly slipped from his hands as he ambled on stage, each step feeling like it was in slow motion. Blinding lights reflected off of his guitar as he made his way to the stool, scooting onto the cold seat. Jonah fiddled with the strap of his guitar for what seemed like ages before he found a comfortable length. Tentatively pulling the microphone closer to him, it let out an ear-piercing shrill, and he immediately let go of it, letting it fall to the ground. Murmurs swept through the audience like a wave, and Jonah could only focus on how everything was going wrong before things even started. He hadn't said a word, hadn't played a single chord on the guitar, yet everything was going downhill fast. He slid down from the seat and grabbed the microphone and its stand. Quickly, he peered into the audience and saw his friends sitting in the back of the crowd; Andi, with Walker by her side, Buffy, and Cyrus. Instantly, he felt his nerves relax knowing that they were there, knowing that they would support him no matter what. Cyrus gave him a thumbs-up, earning a weak smile from Jonah, his heart hammering in his chest. But...oddly, enough, he didn't feel as anxious anymore. Can my heart just calm down, please?  Jonah thought to himself, walking up to the seat after propping up the microphone.

"H-Hi, I'm Jonah Beck and I--" he stuttered, before he was cut off by whooping from the back of the crowd

"Yeah, Jonah! Jomamala, you go!" Cyrus cheered, with Andi cutting in with some "knock 'em dead"s, and Buffy hiding her face, pretending she didn't know these people.

Flushing, he chuckled weakly before continuing on. "Y-Yeah, I'm Jonah Beck and I'll be performing a cover of You Matter To Me from the Broadway musical Waitress," he finished, a hush falling over the crowd. Deep breath, Jonah. Relax, he thought to himself, positioning him for the first few notes. Then he began to play, and everything felt right. Everything else went away; all the nerves, all the anxiety, even the sweaty palms. After a few chords, he started to sing:

"I could find the whole meaning of life in those sad eyes They've seen things that you never quite say, but I hear Come out of hiding, I'm right here beside you And I'll stay there as long as you let me"

Jonah's voice flowed like silk, his plucking smooth and soothing. Taking a peek into the crowd, he looked in the back to see his friend's expressions. Andi was leaning on Walker's shoulder, her gaze fixated on him. Oh no, oh, no, no, no, nonono  Jonah thought, replaying the chords between the verses once more so that he had time to process his feelings. Keep going, keep playing, go, go go go go he chanted in his mind.

"Because you matter to me Simple and plain and not much to ask from somebody You matter to me I promise you do, you, you matter too I promise you do, you see? You matter to me"

Jonah couldn't help looking over at his friends again, but this time he tried to not focus on Andi and Walker. Peering over at Buffy, she looked...intrigued, to say the least. Her lips were slightly parted, as though she was not expecting him to be this..good? Or maybe this bad? Did she think that he was bad? Oh, gosh, she thought he was terrible and-- Breathe, stop. It's fine, just relax, focus on the chords, Jonah reminded himself, moving onto the coming verses.

"It's addictive the minute you let yourself think The things that I say just might matter to someone All of this time I've been keeping my mind on the running away And for the first time I think I'd consider the stay

Because you matter to me Simple and plain and not much to ask from somebody You matter to me I promise you do, you, you matter too I promise you do, you see? You matter to me"

This was the last verse before the ending; he'd made it this far, so he could make it to the end. He was on to the longest guitar riff with chords and plucking, which he'd worked on for weeks to perfect. Jonah stole one last look into the crowd, ignoring Buffy and Andi and Walker. Cyrus sat in front of the rest of the group, sitting on the edge of his seat, his hands gripping onto the edge of it. His mouth was moving slightly, as he mouthed along to the words. Figures, since Cyrus was--err, is , a huge musical fan. Jonah smiled softly at him, comforted merely by his presence. Cyrus, who always made him feel wanted, and safe, and supported. Cyrus, who was always there for support, like at the Space Otters pancake sale. Oh, no, oh my gosh, breathe, relax, stop thinking so much, Jonah instructed himself, breaking the gaze with Cyrus to focus on the last few lines.

"I promise you do, you see You matter to me"

Jonah played the opening chords a few more times to finish it off, ending it with a gentle strum of the strings, before gently gripping them to stop their vibrations. Glancing at the crowd, the lights seemed brighter than before. Suddenly, after a few moments of silence, the crowd erupted into applause, and he exhaled. He had faced his fears and performed in front of people. Peering at the back row, he saw a few people standing up; first Cyrus, then Jonah, and then Andi and Walker. Jonah couldn’t shake the inevitable pre-panic attack feeling; the ground felt like it was going to give out beneath him, the walls felt like they were spinning. Quickly, he ran offstage with his guitar, his footsteps becoming silent in the raucous applause.

He shoved the guitar into its case, snapped it shut, and burst into the bathroom, immediately gripping the cool granite counter tightly.

“Calm down, breathe, relax, it’s over, you made it,” he murmured to himself, trying to steady his breath. The room had stopped reeling, but it felt like he couldn’t catch his breath. Why, why, why? What the heck is happening? He tried to dissect why he was feeling the way he was. Let’s see; he had looked at Andi and Walker in the first few verses of the song, but that feeling of panic had worn off. This feeling was at the end. Cyrus was the last person that Jonah had looked at, but... wait. Cyrus. It was Cyrus. Cyrus’ smile, and his glittering eyes, the look of happiness when he heard what song Jonah was performing, everything.

“I like Cyrus,” Jonah squeaked, almost unable to admit it to himself, unconsciously loosening his grip on the counter. Then, his heart sunk. Oh, no. Cyrus, I can’t, I-I can’t.. , he tried to think clearly, but came up short. Panicked fragments were all that he could form. Before he felt like he was going to faint, he rushed into one of the stalls and leaned against the door, trying to catch his breath.

+

“Do you--think he’s okay?” Andi asked tentatively, breaking that silence that surrounded the group. Other performances had come and went, but it felt like they were frozen in time.

“I’ll--go and check up on him,” Cyrus suggested, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

“Do you want us to come with you?” Buffy offered, worry flooding her eyes.

“Nah, that’s okay, I think I can manage. B-but if I need more support, I’ll text you guys, okay?” he assured them, slipping his phone into his pocket and sneaking backstage as one of the performers finished their act.

“Jonah?” Cyrus called out, before being shushed by Mr. Galen.

“These walls are paper thin, and people can hear what you’re saying,” he warned, sternly glaring at Cyrus.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know. I was just looking for Jonah. I--wanted to tell him what a great job he did,” he admitted, trying to find a way to not sound like this was a big deal.

“I think he ran into the bathroom,” Mr. Galen supplied, scratching his head, “That boy has talent, but, man, his nerves must really get to him,” he added, walking away to see the next performance.

Cyrus scanned the narrow hallway and found the boy’s bathroom, quickly walking in. The door creaked behind him, and closed a little louder than he wanted it to.

“Jonah?” he called, his voice echoing in the room a few times before the silence settled in once more. “Jonah, please, I know you’re in here!” he added, followed by more echoes. After a few seconds, he heard one of the stall doors creak open, and so Cyrus gently tip-toed towards it. Jonah took one small step outside of the stall, his head hung low as his fingers clawed into his hands.

“Jomamala, that was awesome!” Cyrus tried for some comic relief, but Jonah was silent, his knuckles growing whiter and whiter as he clenched his hands tighter and tighter. Cyrus, noticing this, gently put his hand on Jonah’s shoulder. “Hey,” he started softly, the echoing negligible, “you can tell me anything, Jonah. You know that right?” he croaked, his heart breaking for him.

Jonah slowly lifted his head, and Cyrus could audibly hear his heart break. Jonah’s eyes were bloodshot, red, and puffy from tears. His face, which was normally all smiles with his trademark dimples, was wet and flushed. He looked completely and utterly defeated, as though he had lost a game he hadn’t even played.

“Jonah,” Cyrus whispered, worry settling in, “Jonah, you’re scaring me, what’s going on?”

“I-nothing, Cy Guy, it’s all good,” his voice breaking as he went on, a plastered smile on his face. But Cyrus wouldn’t take this for an answer.

“C’mon, man, I know you better than this. You’re not okay, and I kinda need you to tell me why so I can use my Space Otter powers to fix it,” he murmured, cracking a weak smile from Jonah. The two of them took a seat on the granite counters and it was silent for a few minutes, before Cyrus spoke.

“Is this about Andi?” Cyrus asked painfully, knowing darn well that it was most definitely about Andi.

Jonah thought about it for a while. Was it about Andi? He’d initially picked this song for her, since that’s what Bowie had suggested. He’d spent days rehearsing to a photo of him and Andi in his room to try and mimic what it would feel like in front of her. When he performed, he felt a twinge of jealousy when he looked at Andi and Walker, but that died relatively quickly. So, was this even about Andi?

“N-no,” Jonah admitted hoarsely, mentally beating himself up for not just lying and telling Cyrus what he wanted to hear.

“No?” Cyrus repeated, the word tasting strange. “I mean, I was pretty sure that it was about her, dude,” he countered, drumming his fingers on the granite.

“Cy--I, can’t--can’t,” he choked out, feeling like he was going to break down right then and there. He physically couldn’t spit out the words he wanted to. They were banging on his teeth trying to escape, but he swallowed them.

Cyrus felt a lump in his throat, and a warm, tingly feeling rush through him. He put his arm around Jonah, trying to comfort him.

Jonah felt his whole body melt. Oh, gosh, you really fell for him, didn’t you? he mentally scolded himself, taking a deep breath. “Cy, th-the song,” he started, wincing as he spoke, “it-it wasn’t about Andi. . .it was about you,” he said quickly and near silently, his heart threatening to leap out of his chest and run out the bathroom door.

Deafening silence filled the bathroom, save for the gentle hum of the lights. I’ve ruined it, I ruined it, I ruined it, it’s over, over, over, over, Jonah kept thinking to himself, his breathing quickening. Oh, no, it’s happening, he panicked, his breathing becoming laborious. Cyrus quickly took note of this, and nonchalantly took Jonah’s hands.

“Jonah, listen. I need you to breathe with me, okay? In for four, and out for eight. With me,” he instructed, leading Jonah through some breathing exercises, until he had almost fully calmed down.

“Th-thanks,” Jonah squeaked, looking down at their hands, intertwined. Jonah’s face was red from the heavy breathing, but having the Cyrus Goodman hold his hands wasn’t helping.

“Hey, Jonah?” Cyrus said softly, his eyes misty with tears. Jonah soon became a blur of colors before him, but he could still make out all his important features.

“What?” Jonah whimpered, his hope gone, his eyes cold and dark. No longer did the gentle flame of happiness thrive. Cyrus released one of his hands from Jonah’s, and his heart sank into his stomach. Of course he doesn’t like me, of course, of course, of course, Jonah decided, prepared to curl up into a ball. Cyrus gently took his hand, his index finger curled underneath Jonah’s chin, sending a shiver down his spine, and brought his face closer, until their noses were barely an inch apart.

“I like you too,” he whispered on his skin, leaning in further and kissing him, gently, and carefully, as to not startle him.

The next thing Jonah knew he was locking lips with Cyrus, and the rest of the world fell away; nothing else mattered. All the hardship, the jealousy, the panic, the anxiety, it was all a distant memory. After a few seconds, he begrudgingly pulled away for some much needed air. Cyrus let his eyes flutter shut and reopen, his smile small, but his cheeks a bright pink.

“Why? Why me? Why not someone else?” Jonah, asked, his low self-esteem getting the best of him.

Cyrus took Jonah’s hands in his own, and looked him in the eyes. “Because you, matter to me. Simple and plain and not much to ask from somebody. You matter to me, I promise you do, you matter to me. I promise you do, you’ll see. You matter to me,” Cyrus continued, his words becoming more musical by the moment. Jonah smiled that classic smile, his dimples seemingly deeper than ever. He threw his arms around Cyrus, and Cyrus carefully wrapped his arms around Jonah, the two of them staying there for a few moments, lingering.

“I should also say that your performance was insane, and I loved every second of it,” Cyrus added with a small giggle, and Jonah’s smile grew.

“Like I said--err-- sang . You matter to me,” Jonah reminded him, the two of them leaving the bathroom hand in hand.

[texanredrose]

It’s Funnier in French

Thank you @maburito for helping me with this. Just some Monochrome fluff with a less-than-smooth Blake.

Blake drew in a surreptitious breath as she climbed up the fire escape to the rooftop, highly aware of the woman following in her wake. Strange, she thought, that only four months had passed since she found the German huddled in the alleyway behind her bookstore, yet here they were, standing atop the rooftops of Paris and taking a moment to marvel at the bright lights below. She wanted to take Weiss to the countryside, so she could see the stars better, but this would have to do until she could take a proper vacation. Given the wide blue eyes of her companion and the little smile on her lips, she doubted the other woman was inclined to complain.

"Do you like the view?" Her German had greatly improved, at least to her mind- if the other woman had complaints, she kept them to herself, and there really weren't any others who could give an opinion- but she focused more on her companion's expression instead of her own pronunciation.

"It's beautiful," Weiss replied in her native tongue, white hair stirred ever so slightly by the late fall wind swirling around them. They both wore coats and scarfs to protect against the chill, though the German had second-hand ones a size too big she'd purchased during her escape from the country to the east.

For a moment, the Parisian considered taking the other woman's hand in hers and leading her, but her nerves got the better of her and she settled for lightly grasping the elbow of her sleeve, a small smile on her lips. "Come. There's more to see."

She lead Weiss over to a slanted part of the roof that faced the L’Arc de Triomphe in the distance, all lit up with cars swirling around it like a current, the dull drone punctuated occasionally but far off shouts or other sounds. Pulling the backpack from her shoulders, Blake unpacked a blanket and spread it out for them to lay upon, a bottle of cheap white wine with two glasses quickly following, and a block of cheese for them to nibble on while they watch night descend on the city. It wasn't much but, what with rent being hiked up again and the fiasco last month, it was the best the bookstore owner could afford on such a tight budget. As they settled down, a few inches separating their shoulders, she found herself wondering what her companion did back in her homeland on nights like this, how she must've picked out her favorite hill on the family's sprawling estate to star gaze from while drinking the finest wine from the Rhine, bread and cheese on the side, and maybe even a dessert the Parisian couldn't begin to pronounce for later. It seemed like a poor attempt at mimicking something meaningful to the woman but Blake wanted the night to be special.

One would think, after all the books she'd read, she would have better ideas for romantic overtures.

"Are you cold?" She asked, wincing slightly at what she felt to be a painfully obvious question. The climates of their homelands weren't so dissimilar that she would feel any colder or warmer than the Parisian yet Blake had asked anyway. A blush started rising in her cheeks as she mentally cursed her foolishness.

"I would normally consider weather like this pleasant." The German hummed, shifting slightly closer. "But I'm a little cold for some reason."

"I... forgot to bring another blanket," she replied, feeling her hopes bolstered as she moved, inviting the other woman to use her shoulder as a pillow. "Perhaps... if we lay closer together?"

Blake considered, very briefly, that the pinch to the other woman's brow spoke of an impending rejection, but Weiss quickly scooted even closer and pressed against her side, helping situation the Parisian's arm around her shoulders with a hand on her wrist that didn't let go once they were comfortable in the new position. That certainly improved her mindset, made confessing- which, ultimately, was her goal tonight- a more tangible reality. Ever since they'd met- the beleaguered bookstore owner and the homeless runaway in the early morning light- she'd found herself being drawn further and further into those bottomless blue eyes, at first irked by the woman's confrontational nature before recognizing it for the defense mechanism it was. The months they'd spent working side-by-side in the bookstore were filled with trying times and hopefulness, homesickness warring with a desire for freedom in the German while Blake found herself caught between falling in love with cutting wit and quiet kindness in equal measure. They learned each other's language together, the rolling smoothness of her native tongue juxtaposed with harsh consonants, sometimes feeling as those her uncooperative tongue objected hotly to forming such strange words.

Most of the time, though, it simply had no words to give because all it took was a look from Weiss to wipe her mind clean of any and all language save the rhythmic beating of her heart with her quickened pulse.

"Paris is beautiful- in the daytime and at night," the German said, this time in French and it never failed to make her heart flutter hearing her mother tongue spoken with such care. Practice would make her better, she'd said, and though Blake tried to speak the harsher language frequently enough so she wouldn't feel so out of place among the streets of Paris, her companion often switched back to get a little more when they were alone. "Is your hometown like this?"

"N-no." She swallowed, trying to keep herself under control. "A smaller town without as many lights, but it had its own sort of beauty."

"Would you want to go back?"

"To visit, yes. I miss my parents." Unbidden, the image of herself stepping off the train to see her mother and father, their expressions twisting into one of delighted surprise as they saw their daughter's hand interlinked with Weiss'. Her parents would absolutely love the German, she would bet on it. "But I love Paris. This is where I was born; it's my home." Silence followed her words and she found herself grasping at straws, desperately wanting the conversation to continue. They'd spent so much time learning about language, books, and streets, there were still so many questions remaining as to who they were, or who they were try to become- the bookstore owner dreaming of romance and paperbacks and the runaway searching for a life in a new country. "Would... you ever consider going back? To Germany?"

She held her breath, hoping she hadn't overstepped an invisible boundary between them. For the whole first month, any mention of her former homeland brought forth a pained expression and a biting remark, half the time muttered and too quick for her to catch. That attitude seemed to change in tandem with the healing of the scar marring her left eye, both becoming less angry. In the last few weeks, Weiss had made little comments, referencing places she'd known as a child, experienced she'd had, all tied to that life she'd left behind. Blake had already told as much as there was to tell about her own past, and this seemed like an unequal barrier between them that she wanted to ease away.

"I have considered it," Weiss said slowly, taking a deep breath before releasing it slowly. "I think you would like the Rhine in spring and the markets of München. I think you might particularly like Neuschwanstein Castle in the winter, too. My family often traveled around the south; it would be nice to visit those places again." She paused. "But if I live the rest of my days without returning to that house or that town... I am at peace with that."

Although the melancholy of the woman's tone concerned her, she picked up on something she considered rather noteworthy. "The way you said that makes it sound like you only want to go back if I'm there, too."

"I have no reason to go back otherwise." Weiss shifted, blue eyes finding amber. "This is my home now."

The Parisian felt her heart leap into her throat, caught in the other woman's gaze even as the blush in her cheeks rose- it had to be noticeable now. She wanted to inquire further- what made Paris home, was it the streets and bakeries and vendors or was it the smell of paper and ink- but her tongue would cooperate beyond an unsteady response. "That- yes. Well. I'd love to go. With you, of course. To Germany. Or my hometown. Or the Americas."

One pale brow arched up, a smile coming to her companion's face. "The Americas? Really?"

"They have some wonderful authors, and sights." Trying to get her bearings, her eyes darted past the German's visage to the sky above. "I wonder if their sky is different than ours."

Weiss hummed, settling back against the Parisian's side and turning her gaze skywards as well. "It's sad, isn't it? That the light city has so few stars above it?"

"Well, there's a reason for that," she said, entirely ready to explain about light pollution and her disdain for the man-made lights that illuminated the city instead of the natural beauty of the night sky, but when Blake felt her companion's head turn the same time she moved hers, those stunning blue eyes capturing her once more, the scientific explanation completely flew from her brain, and she instead said the first thing that came to mind. "Your father is a thief. He stole all the stars in the sky to put in your eyes."

Did... did she just...?

Heat suffused her cheeks, going all the way to the tips of her ears as she mentally screeched in impotent rage at her own poor choices. Why? Why? Of all the things she could've said, she chose the single most cliched, most widely derided, most painfully obviously insincere phrase in the whole world? Nothing she said after this would matter- no one could take a person who had the absolute gall to utter that line seriously in any sense, least of all romantically. How could she-

A laugh like the tinkling of bells, so rare when it lacked the sarcastic bite of the woman's humor or the self derision, rang out through the air, pulling the Parisian's attention away from her mental tirade. "Would that he could be so kind. No, the stars you see were put there by someone else."

Blake waited a moment, unsure if the unspoken question was rhetorical or not, if she was about to be ridiculed for her poor choice of words, but curiosity got the better of her. "Then... who?"

"You," Weiss replied, pushing herself up and turning so she was hovering over the Parisian. "When I was lost, you found me. You held my hand in the darkness, you supported me when I stumbled, you taught me what I didn't know; if I have any light in my eyes at all, it's because you put it there." She paused, pressing her lips into a thin line for a moment before leaning down, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of Blake's mouth. "Thank you."

The last two words, whispered as she pulled away, hurt just a bit. Was it just gratitude and nothing else the German felt towards her? She tried looking into the woman's eyes, but she'd turned her head away almost immediately...

"Paris... it isn't only known as the light city, you know." She waited until Weiss was watching her out of the corner of her eye before continuing. "It's also the city of love. I think light and love- they're similar, are they not? Tied together, the one feeding into the other." Now she had the other woman's full attention, tongue darting out to wet her lips as her blush returned in full force. "What I'm trying to say is... if I'm the one who put the light in your eyes, it's because you gave the light to me first. Your presence made it grow and now I can give it back to you." She reached up, her movements slow and deliberate to allow the German more than ample time to draw away. The woman didn't, though, allowing Blake to cup her jaw, thumb brushing just beneath the apple of her cheek and the end of the now fully healed scar. "I'd like to think the love in my heart helped put the light in your eyes..."

"I'd like to think I've done the same." Weiss spoke softly, leaning into her touch.

"Then be my sky, my stars and my moon." With the barest hints of pressure, she pulled the other woman closer, leaning up in the same motion. "Be the light in my eyes as I give you the love in my heart. Be mine, and I'll be yours."

Blake didn't get a verbal response, surprised instead when the German leaned forward the rest of the way, their lips meeting in a tender kiss that had her eyes fluttering closed and electricity singing through her veins. For a few brief moments, nothing else existed besides the other, locked in an embrace that seemed a long time coming despite the brevity of their acquaintanceship. When they parted, their eyes met and neither could hide their smiles nor the rosy tint to their cheeks.

They laid there together, soaking in the ambiance of the Parisian night, eventually opening the wine bottle and pouring it into the glasses. "To us, Blake."

"To us- and a new life together."

Glass clinked and the two snuggled up close, combating the chill of the evening with quiet conversation and idle warmth.

AN: ... Okay, so, some quick things. München is the German... name, I guess... for what most of the world calls Munich. (It confused the hell out of me when I lived there.) Neuschweinstein Castle- also known as the castle from which Cinderella’s Castle draws its inspiration, or the Fairytale Castle- is def a place Blake would want to visit, and probably Ruby too. (And it’s breathtaking in the fall and winter.) “Ton père est un voleur. Il a volé toutes les étoiles du ceil pour les mettre dans tes yeux.” is a really famous and ridiculous pick up line that translates to “Your father is a thief. He stole all the stars in the sky to put in your eyes.” which I’m assured by Mab would never be taken seriously by a French person, hence Blake’s freakout. Thankfully, Weiss is German. (Also, not gonna lie, this shit would totally work on me.) But, if you were wondering what the title references, it’s that line in particular. Now, if I got anything wrong, that’s on me, because I lived in the Bavaria region of Germany for only 2 years and I never went to Paris myself (I ain’t fucking fancy enough for that). I tried to write it from the perspective of someone who’s... like... actually lived in Paris, though, so I tried.