#aaah i hope a new chapter would drop soon

[lavie-syk]

some sharak sanzo art

[simsadventures]

Better Like This: Chapter 5: Sorry is the Hardest Word

Chapter Summary: The week goes by and you try to prepare for the talk with Bucky on Friday night. Million emotions whirl in your head and you don’t know what to expect. Will he finally make a move or be an ass once again?

Warnings: police talk (mentions of rape, mentions of murder), swearing, fluff (finally) 

Word Count: 2797

A/N: You guys are the kindest and I can’t say enough to thank you for reading this story and actually enjoying it. Hope you’ll enjoy this part too. xx

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When you left the unit, Stephen was squealing like a little girl. You ignored him, as a million thoughts coursed through your mind. It actually happened. For the first time since you joined the unit, Bucky actually did something you wanted him to, or at least very close to it. You didn’t expect him to push you against a wall and beg you not to go out. You could still feel his strong hands on your shoulders and actually considered going back to the building and jump his bones.

But you needed to stay strong. You wanted, no, needed to give him a chance, at least to explain his behaviour, but you couldn’t seem to be too eager. He was like a deer in headlights, you had to plan every step cautiously. You hated it, but it was what it was. 

Wong almost lost his mind when you and Strange told him about the events back at the unit. They really were perfect for each other, you thought, squealing and jumping like freaking teenage girls. You, of course, had to call Wanda who was equally excited, and you could hear Vis in the background shouting and clapping. You really should get more mature friends, you thought to yourself. The last call was to Scott, who although present to see Bucky requesting you outside the office, didn’t know what happened next.

And, oh boy, was he excited! You had to put the phone on an arm’s length from your ear not to lose your hearing from the ridiculous shouting Scott was performing. He even started to sing some Taylor Swift song, and that was when you hung up. He was an idiot, really. 

—

Bucky’s rest of the night was not very different from yours. For him, it was Sam who was now acting like a child, coming up with ideas for a Friday night and almost running to the drugstore to buy him a pack of condoms. Which Bucky assured him, wouldn’t happen. Not this fast, anyway. 

He couldn’t believe he actually asked you out. Far gone was his determination to reject you and instead, a little voice in his head, which was growing louder by the second (and for some reason, this voice was creepily similar to Sam’s) was telling him to go for it. To fight for your trust and for once in his life, let someone in; someone more than just a friend. He just didn’t know if he could wait till Friday. It was sure to be one long-ass week for him. 

—

You wanted to do nothing more than day-dream about Friday night, but New York City had different plans. The case that went cold couple of weeks back, seemed to have resurfaced in the worst way possible. Another victim was found, with the same MO, with just as little evidence as last time and this time, you couldn’t even try and interrogate the victim. She was already dead when the police officers assigned to that precinct arrived. 

You dived into work, trying to find some sort of evidence around the building, where the victim was murdered. But you didn’t have any luck. The only thing that those two victims had in common, was that they both used to be prostitutes, but they both recovered from it and were now both law-abiding citizens. None of you found anything else that would connect them, and it was getting frustrating, until, on Thursday, Bruce ran into the office and went straight to Steve’s personal one. You all followed him with your eyes and looked at each other with very confused looks on your faces. 

It only a few minutes, before the Captain walked out of his place, Bruce hot on his heels. “Listen up, squad. Some new evidence resurfaced. Dr Banner will tell you more about it.” 

“Ok, so,” Bruce started, a little shy as always but a determination was written all over his face. “I didn’t really know what to think of it the first time, but now that we have two victims and the particles are actually exactly the same, I have a certain idea. A crazy idea, but idea nevertheless. So, the first victim, you all remember, was choked to death and we all believed it was by a hand, because of the prints on the victim’s neck. The second victim had the same prints on her hand. Which wouldn’t be too strange, considering we believe both murders were done by the same person. 

However, what I found curious, is that the person didn’t adjust his grip, it was so strong and set in one place that the victims had to chance to get out of it. Which is weird. Even for a strong Alpha, a moving victim, however small she was, should be a challenge for his hand and the grip he had on her. Unless he used some kind of machine to choke those Omegas.”

The confusion only intensified. “But how could he have used a machine, when you ourself said that those were prints made by a hand?” You woke up from the shock first and asked the scientist. 

“Good question, Y/L/N. So, as was said, some evidence resurfaced. On both victims, I found metal particles. But not just any metal. It is a very precise alloy, made of bronze, steel, and a certain amount of one of the most precious metals, vibranium. I honestly didn’t think anything of it the first, the amount found on the victim was so slight I though it could’ve gotten on her in the ambulance or the hospital. But the second victim had it on her too, but hers was much more visible. I believe it is because he used more strength than with the first kill. He pushed so hard that he crushed the victim's trachea.

The particles were found in the indentation left by the fingers, or something similar to human fingers.” 

“So what do you think he used, doc?” It was not Sam who spoke up for the whole unit. 

“I’m not sure, but if I had to guess, I’d say some kind of mechanical arm? Something like that? I really don’t know yet, I just came here to tell you the news, and I’m getting back to the lab. Both me and Tony are having a look at it and we’ll figure it out. As soon as we do, we’ll let you know.” He smiled slightly and left as quickly as he came. 

“Well, at least we have something. We’ll dig into it more, but without witnesses and more evidence, there isn’t much we can do. Just, try and find something guys, I have a bad feeling about this guy,” Steve told the squad and went back to his office. 

You released a breath you didn’t know you were holding and looked at Scott. “Alright, we’ll go to the morgue, the autopsy should be done by now, and if we find something new, we’ll call you!” He called and grabbed his jacket to walk out. You jumped to your feet and followed him, however, not without looking Bucky’s way to find him already staring at you. He nodded at you in acknowledgement and continued to listen to Sam’s rambling. 

Well, that was something, a nod. Wow. 

In the morgue, you didn’t find anything new. You knew how she died and you knew he raped her while choking her. So that was a dead-end too, everything seemed to be a dead-end in these cases. 

—-

Friday came and went, the whole day spent with the second victim’s family, trying to get something useful out of them, but without luck. You just wanted to go home and curl up in a ball and be frustrated. But then there was the “date” with Bucky. You were getting anxious and kinda didn’t want to go, but at the same time, you couldn’t wait to see him outside of the unit. 

When your shift ended, you grabbed your things and wanted to turn to where Bucky was just seconds ago, only to drop all your things from a shock. Bucky was standing right behind you. “Aaah, Jesus, Bucky! I almost shitted myself, you can’t sneak up on people like that!” Your heart was beating too fast, and not only from the shock. He was standing so close you could feel his body warmth radiating off of him and could smell his natural musk. 

“I’m sorry, I wanted to help you with your things. I didn’t mean to scare you, Y/N.” The way he said your name… You imagined other situations in which he could call out your name and had to cross your legs, trying to stop the heat spreading in your lower belly. 

“’s alright. Can we get out of here, please?” You asked, little out of breath, you just hoped and prayed to God that he didn’t see what kind of effect he had on you. 

However, you were trying not to see too eager, to actually notice that you had the exact same effect on Bucky. When you dropped those things and bent down to pick them up, he could help but let his eyes wander across your ass. And the thoughts he had at that moment? Downright sinful. He actually had to adjust himself, before he could walk out with you and he only hope you wouldn’t notice. He didn’t want you to think you were just a sexual object to him. But damn, were you hot in those skin-tight black jeans. 

The car drive to the restaurant/pub was silent and awkward. You really did just a small talk about the case, but you knew there was a conversation awaiting you, and both of you were probably preparing for it. 

When you finally sat down, you couldn’t even look at Bucky. that’s how nervous you were. He seemed to have sensed it and once again, tried to start a small talk, but you weren’t any of it now. 

“Yeah, the weather is shitty and all, but could we maybe get right into it? I don’t want to postpone it anymore.” 

“Uh, yeah, sure. Right into it, huh?” He smiled, almost shyly, at you. “Look, Bucky, I don’t want to push you into anything you’re not comfortable doing, but you gotta give me at least something. I need to know where we stand so I can move forward, with or without you.” Of course, you didn’t want to move anywhere, and definitely not without him, but he needed to think there was everything at stake.

“Right, sure. Look, I had a whole speech prepared, to explain my thinking and emotions and all that shit, but sitting here, it all seems unimportant. The only thing that matter and that I need to say, and will probably say a lot, is… that I’m sorry.” 

You smiled a little and let him continue. It was a good start, after all. You needed to hear that and Bucky knew it. “I don’t really know how to explain myself, how to tell you all that’s been on my mind, ever since you joined the team. I can’t tell you all the detail yet, but I promise I will one day. Let’s just say that I’ve been hurt before and didn’t really want it to happen again. But, for some reason, the more I saw you and the more I learned about you, the more I wanted to open up to you and get to know you even better. 

I know you will need time and you can have it all, I just need you to know that I want to try and I want to be a lesser asshole for you.” 

He was looking at you, with those piercing blue eyes, pretty much a white flag in his hand. “That’s all I really need. I understand that we don’t really know each other and that you won’t tell me everything right away. I also have some dark shit that I won’t bother you with. Yet, that is. But I need to know if you’re willing to give this, us, a chance. I know that you can’t like me just because I’m very probably your true mate, but-“ 

“No, I know. And I’m not intrigued just because of that, trust me. I want to give us a chance because if this worked out, it could be amazing! I’m just worried, what happens when it doesn’t work out?” 

“Can you be a little less negative Bucky? We’re not even together and you’re already thinking about the things we’re going to do when we break up?” You shook your head slightly and reached to grab Bucky’s hand. He let you, even if his eyes went a little wide. He kept staring at your hand over his and the smallest smile appeared on his lips. 

“Just give us a chance! But I have a question? Why did you attack Sam that day?” 

His smiled disappeared but he interlaced his fingers with yours. “I’m so sorry for that, Y/N. It was stupid, and it definitely isn’t one of my greatest moments, if I’m being honest. The conversation between me and Sam wasn’t about cookies. He knows about what you are to me and knew that I acted like a stupid child. When he was saying that he would eat cookies, he pretty much meant you. And I didn’t think after that. Even if I didn’t admit it to myself, I couldn’t let anyone else touch you. I truly am sorry for hurting you, it was never my intention and I will forever regret it.”

“Well, I’m alive and kicking, aren’t I? No biggie, but if you pull out something like that again, I swear it will be you laying on that floor, bleeding, not me, understood?” 

He laughed a little. “Feisty, I like that. And yes, understood, detective.” 

Your hands were still interlaced on the table and to you, it felt like the beginning of a new chapter of your life. One, that you hopefully wouldn’t have to go through alone. The night went on and you to just talked. You didn’t need to hear more about anything serious, not at the moment, and simply enjoyed the time you could spend with Bucky. 

He even drove you home and walked you to your door. You knew he didn’t really expect to be asked inside, you weren’t at that level yet, but it was a nice gesture.

“I, uh, really enjoyed the night, so thank you for listening to me and not rejecting me after I’ve been such an idiot.” He stood there, leaning on your door frame. 

“Thank you for letting your walls down, even if only a little bit. You got my number, so, uh, feel free to text me or call me, or anything.” You were rambling and you knew it, but you couldn’t help yourself. So to stop yourself, you did the one thing that seemed logical at that moment. You stood on your tip-toes and try to kiss Bucky on a cheek. 

But as he didn’t expect you to do it, he moved, ever so slightly, which resulted in your lips landing not on his cheek but on his lips. Electricity went through your whole body and you shuddered, wanted to prolong the kiss, but knowing it was a mistake, you pushed from Bucky.

“I’m so sorry, Bucky, I didn’t mean to-“ You were stopped by Bucky’s plump limps being attached to yours once again. You tried to get as close to him as you could, your chest on his, as your hands intertwined in his hair. 

His own arms pulled you even closer to him, staying on your smaller back to not let you get away from him. Both your hearts were beating so fast you could barely hear any outside world. Hell, the outside world didn’t even exist in that very moment. The only thing that mattered was you and Bucky, sealed in the most magical kiss. 

But all things have to end, and soon neither you nor Bucky could breathe, so you had to part. Bucky, however, didn’t let go of you and still held you flush against his chest. Your eyes were a little hazy, Bucky’s scent and taste lingering on your lips and you couldn’t get enough. 

“I could have been doing this those past three weeks? I surely am one big asshole, aren’t I, doll?” You just laughed and pecked his lips lightly. “Yeah, shame you pulled your head out of your ass just now, huh? Well, hopefully, we won’t have to take such drastic measures in the future. Goodnight, Sergeant Barnes.” You winked at him and closed your door behind you. 

Well, the night didn’t turn out that bad after all.

/ Next Chapter > 

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[ironwoman359]

A Fiendly Reunion: Ch. 1

Navigation: Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch.6, Ch.7, Ch.8, Ch.9, Ch.10

Summary: Virgil has revealed his greatest secret to Thomas, and Deceit is certain his plan is working. But when Thomas reacts not with malice, but with acceptance, plans will have to change. Thomas wakes up the morning after meeting Remus to find Virgil missing, and it doesn't take long for them to deduce that he didn't leave of his own free will. 

In order to get their stormcloud back, Patton, Logan, and Roman must lead Thomas through the darkest parts of his mind…but will Thomas be strong enough to face what it takes to bring Virgil home?

Chapter Warnings: Anxiety, crying, villain!Deceit, lying/manipulation, kidnapping, snake bites.

Relationships:  FamILY LAMPT all the way, baby.

Word count: 3,738

Read on AO3: here!

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--- --- ---

“Just be sure to keep up that personal growth, Virgil. Who knows? Maybe soon, you could be rid of us all." 

"So you’ve never been reluctant to share anything with the group then?”

“It takes a liar to know a liar." 

“Virgil, you’ve never been one to soften the truth. Why would you aspire to be so…boring?” 

“Despite his best efforts, Virgil could never stop being the bad guy!” 

 “Of course I did, Dr. Seuss! I would never hide anything from you!” 

"Because I was one of them." 

Thomas recoiled at the words, and the last ounce of hope Virgil had been holding onto that maybe, just maybe, things would turn out okay dissipated as Thomas stared at him, hurt etched into his features. 

Part of Virgil’s function as Thomas’s anxiety was to consider all the worst possible outcomes to any situation, so he had pictured this exact moment, over and over and over again. He’d pictured Thomas’s anger, his revulsion, his contempt. He’d imagined the names Thomas might call him (liar, traitor, monster), the demands that Virgil get out of his sight and never show his face among those who could be considered “light” ever again. He had steeled himself for that, mentally prepared to accept whatever punishment Thomas saw fit to give him, because he deserved it, didn’t he? 

This though…this was worse. Thomas didn’t look angry, didn’t look disgusted. He didn’t speak, just stared at Virgil with a look that could almost be described as wounded. Virgil’s eyes burned, and with what he hoped was an apologetic look, he sunk away before Thomas could say a word. He’d thought he would be strong enough to face him. 

But Virgil obviously wasn’t as strong as he needed to be.

— — —

Thomas pulled a blanket over himself and sighed as his body sunk into his mattress. If he’d ever needed a late afternoon nap, it was now, but despite his body being completely exhausted, he found that his mind was currently incapable of letting him sleep. Instead the events of the past hour plagued his mind, spinning around and around in his brain. One startling revelation about himself was always difficult to deal with, but two…that was a lot.

As jarring as meeting the Duke had been, Thomas had been expecting to meet another dark side eventually. Instead he found himself thinking about a side that he already knew very well…or at least, that he thought he knew. Virgil’s words echoed in his mind as he stared up at the ceiling: "Because I was one of them.” 

“One of them,” what did that even mean? The more Thomas thought about it, the more it made sense, he supposed…after all, he had once classified Virgil as nothing more than a villain in need of defeating. And the other dark sides he’d met so far he would certainly still qualify as villains. But then again, it wasn’t exactly a secret that he used to consider Anxiety a bad guy, was it? But the look on Virgil’s face when he’d admitted that truth…Thomas could have sworn that Virgil had been close to tears. So what was going on? 

Thomas sighed, and swung his legs out of bed, rubbing his eyes. For the second night in a row, his thoughts were incapable of letting him sleep. At least…Remus didn’t seem to have anything to do with it this time. Thomas wandered into the kitchen, thoughts of a before-bed snack vaguely occupying his thoughts, but as he stared into his fridge, he soon became aware that he wasn’t alone in the room anymore. He turned around, shoulders tense, but they relaxed almost instantly at the sight of Patton standing behind him, the light from the refrigerator reflecting off his glasses. 

“Hey, Pat,” he said, wincing at the roughness of his voice. “What are you doing here?” 

“I could ask you the same question, Kiddo,” Patton chided gently. “Hasn’t Logan told you about-” 

“Not eating anything before I go to sleep, I know,” Thomas finished, rubbing his eyes. “I just…can’t sleep right now.” 

Patton knit his brows, and the expression reminded Thomas of a parent who had just been told their child was having bad dreams. 

“It’s not…” he made a vague gesture with his hands, and gave Thomas a pointed look. “You know?” 

Thomas shook his head and sighed. 

“No, it’s not Duke stuff this time, I-” he paused, glancing at Patton. Did he know about Virgil’s past? It made sense that he would, the sides all seemed to know more about his mind than he did, but whatever the significance of what Virgil had told him, it’d obviously taken a lot for Virgil to trust him with it. Would telling Patton be betraying that trust? 

“Kiddo? What is it?” Patton pressed, and Thomas rubbed his temples with his thumb and forefinger. 

“It’s just…Virgil told me something, at the end of the video today, and I’ve been…thinking a lot about it.” 

“Aaah.” Patton clicked his tongue sympathetically. “So he finally told you the truth, huh?” 

“You knew?” Thomas asked, his eyes widening, and Patton nodded. 

“We all do. It just…wasn’t our secret to tell.” Thomas didn’t respond, so Patton pressed further. “So…how’re you taking the news then?” 

Thomas ran a hand through his hair, and closed the fridge door. 

“There’s…a lot that I still don’t understand,” he admitted. “About…Virgil, and the Others, and what it all means. It’s…a little confusing.” 

“Well, we’re always here to help you through it, Kiddo,” Patton said with a smile. “I can answer any of your questions about the Others if you want. All you have to do is ask.” 

“Thanks, Pat.” Thomas smiled back at the moral side gratefully. “But I think…I’m going to wait so I can talk to Virgil about it tomorrow. He seemed really upset when he told me…I want to make sure he has a chance to tell me everything that he wants to. And…I want him to know that I’m proud of him. For opening up like that, I mean.”

Patton blinked, then nodded in understanding. 

“That’s really mature of you, Thomas. But while I know you want your answers as soon as possible…it may be best to let Virgil have his space for a little while.” 

“Oh? How come?” Thomas asked, and Patton grimaced. 

“Well, it’s like you said, Kiddo. Virgil was upset when he told you, right? Remember, he is Anxiety. He probably thought that you’d react really badly to the news, maybe think he was some kind of monster for being one of the Others. That’s probably why he left without another word, so he wouldn’t have to face your reaction.” 

“Oh, no…” Thomas heart ached as he remembered the crumpled expression on Virgil’s face as he’d sunk out of sight. “I should talk to him, I can’t let him think that-” 

“I know, Kiddo, I know,” Patton interrupted, his voice gentle but firm. “But I’ve learned the hard way that it’s best to let Virgil have some alone time when he’s upset. When he’s ready to talk again…he’ll come to you. Okay?” 

“Okay,” Thomas sighed in agreement. He looked at his moral side and smiled again. “Thanks for talking to me, Patton.” 

“Anytime, Kiddo!” Patton chirped happily. “Now, it’s getting late, and I seem to recall a certain logical side telling you to go to bed?” 

“Okay, okay,” Thomas laughed. “See you later, Pat.” 

He made his way back to his bedroom and settled under his blankets, sighing in relief as he finally felt some of the tension of the day drain away. There was a lot he still had to figure out, but as he drifted off to sleep, he took comfort in the fact that he didn’t need to figure it out alone.

— — —

Virgil wasn't sure how long he cried for. Upon rising up into his room, he'd immediately collapsed on his bed, his shoulders shaking with sobs. It was all over now, he was sure of it. This was the end of cozy movie nights, easy conversation, and casual gestures of affection. He'd shown his true colors, and there was no way Thomas would want him to stick around anymore. Well, no matter. Virgil didn't need to be part of the famILY to do his job. Patton's dinners, Roman's adventures, Logan's debates...they were all nice, but they weren't why he did what he did. He did what he did to protect them, and to protect Thomas. They didn't have to like him for him to keep them safe. 

But the thought of losing them...it still hurt. 

He must have cried himself to sleep, because the next thing he knew, he was waking up to a genlte knock at his door. He whimpered and pressed his face deeper into his pillow, but the knock sounded again, and Virgil knew whoever was at the door wouldn't go away until they got an answer. 

"What?" he croaked out, not caring if they could hear the break in his voice.

"Virgil? Open the door," the knocker called out, and Virgil's stomach dropped. Thomas had come to the mindscape himself? He hadn't expected that. Still, he could never bring himself to refuse Thomas, so he slowly forced himself off his bed and cracked open the door to his room. 

"Hey," he mumbled, keeping his eyes on the floor. 

"Hey," Thomas repeated. The two of them stood in silence for a moment, then Thomas sighed and placed a hand on Virgil's door. "Can you let me in, Virge?" he asked. 

"I...my room..." Virgil stammered, but Thomas waved his hand dismissively. 

"I'll be okay, Virgil." 

Virgil shrugged, and stepped back, allowing Thomas to enter the room, keeping watch of the dusting of eye shadow that appeared under his host's eyes. The two of them sat down on Virgil's bed, and Virgil clenched his hands in his lap, waiting for Thomas to speak. He didn't have to wait long. 

“Virgil, I..." Thomas ran a hand through his hair, and the shadow beneath his eyes darkened half a shade. "I don't think that I have to tell you that I'm...a bit disappointed in you."

Virgil's heart skipped a beat, and he stared resolutely at his lap. He'd expected this. He'd prepared for this. 

"I mean...It's not just that you used to be a Dark Side. It's..that you lied to me about it. You know how I feel about lying, Virge." Thomas continued, and Virgil's eyes burned. 

“I know,” he mumbled, and he hated that his voice wavered, that he couldn’t even look Thomas in the eye. Didn’t his host deserve at least that? Virgil had betrayed his trust, and now he had to accept the consequences. 

"I have to admit, I thought better of you than that, I really did,” Thomas said, and Virgil felt tears well up in his eyes again, but to his surprise, Thomas kept talking. "Still...I understand why you did it." 

Virgil's eyes widened and he snapped his head up to look at Thomas. 

"You...you do?" he asked, and Thomas nodded. 

"You thought you had to protect me from them," he said, and with every word he spoke, the tightness in Virgil's chest loosened just a little. "And you thought that protecting me from them included...protecting me from you. From what you really are." 

Virgil nodded, fresh tears blurring his vision. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered. “I’m so sorry, I-” 

Thomas reached forward and pulled Virgil into a hug, cutting him off before he could even finish his apology. 

“It’s okay, Virgil,” Thomas murmured. He tightened his grip, and Virgil nestled closer to him. “I’ll make everything right again.” 

Virgil opened his mouth to say thank you, but what came out instead was a gasp of pain as something sharp dug into his neck. His eyes widened as Thomas’s form rippled and shifted in front of him, revealing a glowing yellow eye and a satisfied smirk. Virgil tried to pull away as the snake that bit him slithered across his arm to rejoin its master, but he could feel his strength sapping away as venom worked its way into his bloodstream. 

“N-no...stop...y’can’t…” Virgil slurred, but already his vision was going dark and he could barely hold his head up straight. 

“Shhh, shhh.” Gloved fingers carded through Virgil’s hair as the last of his consciousness slipped away. “Didn’t you hear me, Virgil?” 

Deceit smiled coldly as Virgil finally went limp in his arms. 

“I’m going to make everything right again.”

--- --- ---

Thomas woke up with the sunlight, feeling truly rested for the first time in what had to be days. He sat up and stretched, then let out a contented sigh. Finally, he’d been able to get a night’s rest without being  plagued by any thoughts from- 

The Duke suddenly stepped out of his closet, a massive grin on his face. Before Thomas could even react, Remus pulled out his stick of deodorant and took a giant bite, all while maintaining direct eye contact with him. Thomas blinked, then rolled his eyes and got out of bed to head to the bathroom. 

The Duke followed him around all morning, munching on his deodorant stick, making rude gestures, and laughing.  Somehow though, Thomas managed to film his video promo without too much difficulty, and eventually, Remus seemed to bore of lurking around the apartment and sunk back to the mindscape. Finally rid of his presence, Thomas sat down on his couch with his chickpea couscous and switched on the TV. 

He didn’t get to watch his show uninterrupted for long though, as after barely five minutes, Patton rose up to sit on the couch next to him.

“Hey, Patton!” Thomas smiled, but his face fell when he took in his moral side’s expression.  Patton’s brow was drawn tight with worry, and one hand was picking absently at the seams of his khaki pants. “Is something wrong?” 

“Hey, Kiddo.” Patton smiled nervously. “Sorry to bother you,” he began, but Thomas waved his apology away. 

“You’re never bothering me, Pat, you know that.” 

Patton seemed to relax a bit at that, and he pressed on. 

“This might seem like a funny question, but...you haven’t heard from Virgil today, have you?”

Thomas frowned. 

“No, I haven’t. I haven’t talked to him since after the video yesterday.” 

“Neither have I,” Patton said, biting his lip. “Logan and Roman haven’t seen him either, and it’s past noon. He’s usually at least come downstairs for his coffee by now. I went and knocked on his door earlier, but there was no answer.” 

“Well, I can see why that’d be upsetting,” Thomas acknowledged. “But I thought you said that he would need some time to himself to process everything?” 

“What?” Patton asked, frowning in confusion. “When did I say that?” 

“Last night,” Thomas said, a frown of his own forming on his face. “You know, when we were talking about him last night? You said that when he was ready to talk, he’d come to me.” 

“Thomas, what are you talking about?” Patton looked truly worried now. “We...didn’t talk last night. About Virgil, or anything else.”

Patton paused, and scanned Thomas’s face. Something akin to dread was slowly building in Thomas’s stomach, and he swallowed nervously.

“Then...who was I talking to?” Thomas asked, his voice barely a whisper. 

“Tell me everything,” Patton urged, and Thomas did. 

Patton, for his part, tried to be an attentive listener, but he couldn’t stop a gasp from escaping his lips when Thomas told him about Virgil. 

“He finally told you,” he whispered, raising a hand up to his mouth in awe. “Oh my goodness...that must have been so hard for him, he’s been so worried…” Patton’s face fell as the realization struck. “Oh, poor kiddo...that’s why he’s shut himself in, isn’t it?” 

“I assume so,” Thomas agreed grimly. “Then that night, I couldn’t sleep, so I went to the kitchen and you were there...or, I guess, I thought you were there, and we talked, and you basically told me that Virgil was probably really upset, and that I shouldn’t bother him.” 

Patton shook his head emphatically, his eyes wide. 

“No, no no no. I didn’t, I wouldn’t say that, that’s not what Virgil needs. You have to seek him out, otherwise he’ll just try and avoid what’s bothering him until it goes away. He needs to be shown that he still has support, otherwise he might spiral-”  Patton  froze, then suddenly he reached out and grabbed Thomas’s wrist. “Thomas, we have to go find Virgil, right now,” he urged. 

“I- okay, but why?” Thomas asked as Patton pulled him to his feet. 

“Because,” Patton said breathlessly. “Whoever was pretending to be me last night told you not to talk to Virgil this morning. Your first instinct was to find him, but they wanted to stop you from doing just that. So-”

“So why didn’t they want me to check on him?” Thomas gasped, and Patton nodded. 

The two of them sunk out without another word, and as soon as Thomas appeared in the mindscape Patton started dragging him up the stairs towards the hallway where all the sides’ bedrooms lay. 

“Virgil!” Patton called, knocking on the pale purple door at the end of the hall. “Virgil kiddo, please open the door.” He glanced over at Thomas, who took a deep breath before calling out himself. 

“Virgil? Virgil, it’s Thomas...are you in there?” 

Silence. 

“Virgil, please,” Thomas said again. “Let me in...I have to talk to you. You’re not in trouble, I…” he looked over at Patton helplessly, and the moral side attempted to give him an encouraging smile. “I want to make sure you’re okay, Virgil.” 

Silence again. 

Patton pushed on the door, but it didn’t budge, and he let out a small, frustrated whine. 

“No, it’s locked. Virgil, please!” he banged on the door again, and Thomas tried not to focus on the growing pit of dread in the center of his stomach. 

“What are you two doing?” Logan’s cool, calm voice cut through the panic that was growing between the two, and Thomas felt some of the tension in his chest leave. 

“Logan!” From the tone of Patton’s voice, it was obvious that he was equally relieved. “Can you help us get this open?” 

“Get it open? What do you need Virgil’s door open for? Can he not just open his own door?” 

“He won’t answer us, and he might be in trouble, I don’t know, but he’s not responding and now we can’t get the door open and-” 

“Breathe, Patton,” Logan said, placing a hand on Patton’s shoulder. 

“Right, sorry.” Patton took a deep breath, and Logan turned to Thomas. 

“What exactly is going on here?” he asked, and Thomas swallowed.

“Virgil...he won’t answer his door, and we have to see him now, it’s really important.” 

“Why is it so-” 

“He told Thomas the truth, Logan,” Patton interjected, and the two of them shared a look. 

“I see...Virgil, are you there?” Logan called, but Patton shook his head. 

“Something’s wrong...we’ll explain later, but we need to get in there, now.” 

“I see,” Logan said, then he turned to Thomas. “Thomas, you should be able to accomplish this.” 

“What?” Thomas blinked in surprise. “Why me?”

“Technically, when we are in the mindscape, we are inside your head. This whole place is made of your thoughts. Because you hold the control, you should be able to override the quote-unquote physical lock of the door.”

“Okay...how do I do that?” Thomas asked. 

“How does he do what?” a booming voice echoed down the hall, and Thomas turned to see Roman coming towards them, his sword draped over one shoulder. 

“Ah, good afternoon, Roman. I was just going to explain to Thomas how to open a locked door in the mindscape,” Logan said, nodding to Roman in greeting. 

“Uh, not that that’s not a super cool trick he can do, why are you explaining it now? And why are we having this powwow outside Dark and Stormy’s room?” 

“Virgil could be in trouble, Roman,” Patton said, biting his lip. 

“Trouble?!” Roman cried. “What trouble?!” He stepped forward with his sword, but Logan held up a hand. 

“Thomas has promised to explain everything in a moment, but we must focus on one thing at a time. Thomas. Visualize the door being open to you clearly in your mind. As the master of this plane of existence, your projected thoughts can, with enough concentration, come to pass.” 

“Are...are you saying that if I just believe really hard that the door is open, it will be?” Thomas asked. 

“If that mindset helps you achieve the desired results, then by all means,” Logan said, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh. 

Thomas looked back to Virgil’s door, then put his hand on the doorknob. 

Open, he thought, feeling a bit silly, if he was honest with himself. You’re an open door, you’re unlocked. Open. Let me in. 

To his surprise, after a moment the doorknob clicked quietly and the door swung smoothly open, revealing a glimpse of Virgil’s room beyond. 

“Bravo, Thomas!” Roman exclaimed. Patton beamed proudly, and for a moment, Thomas forgot the worry that had lead them all here. 

Then, Logan cautiously stepped into Virgil’s room, and as Thomas and the others followed, the momentarily high spirits came crashing back down. 

“Virgil?” Patton called, but it was no use. The room was empty, with hardly a trace of their little worrywart in sight. 

“I think it’s time that you two explain exactly what the trouble is,” Logan said, and as Thomas and Patton took turns explaining, the logical side’s expression turned grim.

“That snake!” Roman growled, punching one of the throw pillows on Virgil’s bed.

“Yes, it does seem likely that it was Deceit you were conversing with last night, Thomas,” Logan agreed. “It is difficult to offer speculation on why he would desire to keep you from checking on Virgil, but the fact that his room is empty after such a conversation is...troubling, to say the least.” 

“What are we going to do?” Patton whimpered, and Thomas clenched his fists.

“I’ll tell you what we’re going to do,” he proclaimed. 

Three heads turned towards him, three faces that mirrored his own curiosity, his own worry, his own determination. Thomas took a deep breath, and met each of their eyes in turn.

“We’re going to find him.”

--- --- ---

Next Chapter

A/N:  Aaaah, I’m super excited to get this story going! The plot of this story will focus on Thomas facing the darker parts of his mind, but I don't know all the specifics yet, so please make sure to check the content warnings on each chapter as needed, and remember to keep yourselves safe! This will have multiple chapters, but hopefully won't be TOO long, and I'm still planning on working on my other wips alongside this one, so don't worry, nothing's been replaced! Hope you enjoyed this <3

-Taylor

(taglists will be in reblogs)

[artificialqueens]

Hot as Hell and No A/C, Last Chapter: Chapter 11 (Branjie) - Blackhighheels

Read on AO3

I’m going to miss writing this story. I hope you like the ending.

Epilogue

Brock quickly shuts off his alarm, hopeful that for once he’ll manage and let Jose sleep. The groan coming from the other side of the bed just a moment later lets him know he’s failed though.

”What time is it?” Jose mumbles and turns on his side, facing Brock.

”Early. Go back to sleep, babe.” He kisses him softly and rubs his back for a moment and then gets out of bed. His clothes are already waiting for him in the bathroom. Like always he takes a quick shower and gets dressed. By the time he is done, Jose is sleeping again und like he usually does, he takes a second to look at him and memorizes the scene. He’s probably the only person in the world right now who gets to see this loud and boisterous human being, be so still and quiet as he snoozes away.

Brock’s right on time when he leaves the house, walks into his favorite coffee shop to get himself breakfast and meets one of his classmates a few blocks down the street.

He’s still surprised that nearly half of his class are his age or older, because at first he’d been scared that he’d be so much older than the rest of the students. It’s a very eclectic group of people from all kinds of backgrounds race and age, who simply all have their love for photography in common. He loves this school and his classmates and it’s so much different from the first time he went to college.

He’s done in the afternoon and has dinner with his friends on campus. Brock stops by Whole Foods to get the groceries for dinner and grabs some lunch for Jose as well. After dropping off the groceries at home, he ubers to the studio, because it’s too far to walk.

”Lunch break,” Brock announces when he walks into the dance studio, where Jose is just explaining something to the dancers.

”Finally, you’re late today, mate! I thought he’d never give us a break,” Tony, one of the dancers Jose usually works with, complains in good humour.

”Get outta here, asshole, before I fire you,” Jose yells and everyone just laughs. They all leave anyway to get some lunch as well.

”You not late, boo. You’re right on time,” Jose tells him and pecks his lips quickly, but stays away from him.

”I’m a bit late. The first uber was cancelled by the driver because he apparently got a better offer.” Brock wraps his arms around Jose’s waist and pulls him close.

”I’m all sweaty,” he protests

”I don’t care.” Another conversation that feels like they’ve had thousands of times before. This is probably the only moment they get to themselves all day and Brock just needs to kiss him. So he does. They end up making out with Jose pressed up shirtless against the mirror wall. Jose’s growling stomach stops them from going further.

”Probably for the best. If they catch us fucking in here, these hos will never let me live it down,” Jose laughs, grabs the food container Brock brought him and sits down on the floor.

”I’m still traumatised from when your mom walked in on us.”

Jose chuckles. ”She didn’t see nothing, ‘cause she was clever enough to wait in the kitchen until we were done.”

”She heard us! That’s bad enough,” Brock feels his face heat just remembering the scene.

”You just embarrassed ‘cause you was taking the D that day and then you always extra loud. And it her own fault for just walking into our house. Who does that?” Jose really finds this funny.

”Your mother, apparently.”

”She’s not done it again.” Jose digs into his food with a chuckle. ”You working tonight?” he asks after swallowing.

”Yeah, one of the drag race girls is gonna be at Mickys WeHo and they asked me to take some pictures.”

”Cool. Who is it? Someone we know?”

”I don’t think so, but you know I always get confused with their boy names and drag names.”

”Silky’s still not over you calling them ‘Reggie’ all the time when they in drag.”

”That’s how he introduced himself. How was I supposed to know he’s feeling his full female fantasy as soon as he has some lipgloss on?”

”You around them drag hos more than me now, you should know,” Jose chuckles. ”So, who is it?”

”Uhh…” he quickly checks his phone. ”Kameron something.”

”Michaels?”

”I think so.”

”The body builder barbie. He good.”

”So you know him?”

”Yeah,” Jose nods and swallows again before he speaks. ”He the boyfriend of Asia.”

”Asia?”

”Ant!”

”Aaah, ok,” now Brock knows who he’s talking about.

”Tell him I say hi.”

”He’s as dramatic as Ant?” He needs to ask, because the one time he’s worked for Asia, the other man had a melt down over the glitter on his face being the wrong color.

”Nah, he’s pretty chill. A bit quiet at first, that why people say he’s arrogant or some shit, but he just real shy, ya know?” Jose’s done with his food and hands his left-overs to Brock. Another ritual they’ve established.

”You gonna be home tonight for dinner?” Brock has no problem talking with his mouth full, which makes Jose roll his eyes.

”Probably not. They sent us a new cut of the song today and the whole middle part doesn’t fit with the beat anymore. We have to change it all.”

”I’ll leave dinner in the fridge then.”

”We still on for tomorrow? Free day at the beach and all that?” Jose asks and leans his head against Brock’s shoulder.

”Yes, absolutely. We need some alone time before you leave for the shoot next week.”

”I already miss you,” Jose sighs. Brock places the food on the ground and wraps his arms around his boyfriend.

”It always sucks when you’re gone, but it’s just another month until we leave for Hawaii.” They’ve booked a vacation and Brock can’t wait. The first vacation in his life, his first flight, his first trip with his boyfriend.

”I know,” Jose’s lips ghost against Brock’s neck and then he sits back up. ”They all gonna be back in a sec’. See you tomorrow?”

”See you tomorrow,” Brock confirms and pecks Jose’s lips a couple of times. He grabs the trash to take it with him and leaves just as the dancers get back.

Back at home he has time to clean up around the house, do his homework and take care of the cats. He heads to his therapist’s office for his weekly session and when he gets back home, he cooks dinner, even though he hates eating alone and then gets ready to go to work.

It had been Jose’s idea that he could take pictures of the dancers and from there he started to take pictures at the clubs, then of drag queens and now he has a pretty steady group of clients, who always book him when they need photos of themselves or the queens at the clubs.

It’s exhausting being up early to go to school and then work in the clubs at night, but Brock is used to hard work and long hours.

When he gets back home, Jose is already in bed, snuggling Thackery, while Apollo and Henry are spread out on his side of the bed. They run off when he comes in, they know he doesn’t want them on the bed and even Thackery follows them after Brock has given him some attention.

Jose senses his presence and seeks his warmth. He’s just shut off the light when Jose’s suddenly lying half on top of him, fast asleep.

”Night papi,” Brock whispers, kisses his forehead and smiles when he remembers that they are both having tomorrow off.

***

It’s late and all Brock wants to do is go home, but he still has to show the pictures he took to the dancers of the ‘Papi Boy Friday’.

Usually Jose comes with him on these Fridays, but his flight back got delayed and Brock is lucky if he’ll be home by the time he’s done here. Jose has been gone for a week and Brock misses him like crazy.

”I’m the last one?” Tyler, one of the dancers, asks and slides into the seat next to him.

”Yes, looks like it.” Brock confirms and turns his laptop so Tyler can see the pictures.

”Ok, that one’s a no. Look at my face,” the dancer laughs and touches his arm quickly.

”It’s not that bad. I like the lighting,” Brock says and points it out to him on the screen.

”You got a similar one?” Tyler leans closer and steadies himself with a hand on Brock’s shoulder.

”Yeah, this one. You like it better?”

”Yeah. I love it,” Tyler smiles and nudges Brock with his shoulder. ”We take that one definitely,” he decides with a wink.

”Your wish is my command,” Brock jokes and quickly saves the picture into the according folder. They quickly look through the other pictures and pick a couple more.

”You gonna stay for another beer?” Tyler asks him when they are done.

”Nah, I really wanna go home. I’m beat.”

”Oh come on! It’s been a while since we hung out.”

”Fine,” Brock sighs and checks his phone for the time, calculates quickly if Jose could be home by now.

”Here,” Tyler comes back and hands him a bottle. They clink their bottles together and each takes a sip. ”Where’s your boyfriend?”

”Shooting again. He wanted to be back this morning, but his flight got delayed.”

”So you’re single tonight?” Tyler smiles and steps a bit closer to him. A bit too close for Brock’s liking, bit Tyler has never had any sense of personal space.

”Huh?” Brock doesn’t quite understand the question though. Why would he be single just because Jose is…?

Suddenly he is pushed aside as someone slams into him from the side.

”Get your fucking hands off my man,” It’s loud, it’s aggressive, it’s followed by a glass of vodka something being thrown into Tyler’s face; It’s Jose.

”Jo?” Brock can’t believe that he’s here. He’s happy and surprised, but even more so, he is confused by his boyfriend’s behaviour. ”What are you doing here?” he asks, but doesn’t get an answer to his question because Tyler throws the first punch and Jose sees red. The bottles, his laptop and phone crash to the ground as Jose tackles the dancer onto the table and hits him right in the face.

”Imma end you!” he screams and lands another blow.

”Jose, stop!” Brock grabs him from behind and pulls him off. Tyler wants to come after him again, but is held back but two other dancers who have hurried over. Jose struggles against Brock’s hold, but he drags him through the nearly empty club and out into an alley way, all the while Jose is still cussing and swearing and threatening Tyler. ”Stop! God damnit! Calm down. What the hell are you doing?” Brock yells and pins him against the wall by his shoulders, so he can look in his face. He has a wound on his forehead, but his eyes are black with rage.

”Imma kill this motherfucking bitch! No one touches my man. No one!” he screams. They’ve been together for six months and Brock has seen Jose angry, he’s seen him get into fights a couple of times, but he’s never seen him lose it like this.

”He wasn’t touching me. What are you talking about?” he asks, truly confused.

”He wasn’t touching you? Bitch! You lying now? That what’s going on here? I be gone for one week and you hooking up with this dancer ho?” Now Jose’s anger is directed at him.

”I’m not hooking up with anyone. You’re completely delusional. And stop pushing me!” Brock yells back, when Jose starts pushing at his chest, hurting him.

The door opens and one of the bouncers comes out, holding Brock’s laptop bag, camera and cellphone.

”Brock, these are yours, right?” he asks and Brock nods. ”You need some help?”

”No, we’re going home now. Thank you, André.” He takes his things from him and keeps Jose in place with one hand on his shoulder.

”You can go wherever the fuck you want, but you not telling me what to do!” Jose is yelling again as soon as they’re alone.

”Will you just shut up and calm down? I’m not discussing this with you in a dirty alley way at 4 am in the morning! I’m going home now and you’re coming and if I have to drag you there.” He yells back. Dragging isn’t necessary, because Jose follows him the three blocks back to their house. The door slams shut behind them and Brock knows that Jose has obviously not calmed down yet. With a heavy sigh he puts his photo bag down and walks upstairs.

”Where you going? Take a shower to wash him off you? Grab your clothes and leave?” Jose follows him, still yelling. ”You said you no cheater! You said you fucking loyal! You a liar!”

Brock takes a deep breath to not lose his cool completely and grabs the first aid kit from underneath the sink. ”Sit down on the bed. You’re bleeding,” he orders, his voice icy because of all the hurt and anger he feels.

Jose sits down and while Brock cleans his wound and wipes the blood away, he can see the anger draining out of Jose. It’s like he’s deflating, becoming smaller in front of his eyes. When he puts the bandaid on his forehead, Jose speaks again.

”How long’s this been going on? You and him?” Jose asks and his eyes are full of tears.

”There’s nothing going on with me and him or anyone else. Why the fuck do you even think that?”

”‘Cause I get here and want to surprise you and all I see is him flirting with you, touching you the whole time and you smiling back.”

”He was not flirting with me.”

”He was fucking all over you and wants to fuck you. What’d you think it means when he saying ‘You single tonight’?” Jose gets louder again.

”I… I don’t know. I didn’t think about it too much. I know Tyler… hell, you know Tyler. He just wanted to hang out, that’s all.”

”You so fucking thick. He flirts with you every damn time and you never say nothing! Every fucking ho in this place has their hands on you all the time. You always smiling and flirting.. You leading them hos on, even when I’m standing right next you. What the fuck is going on when I’m not there? Tyler wanting to fuck you, that’s what and you just letting him.”

”No one is flirting with me! And I’m not flirting back. I work there, Jo, I’m just friendly and I get along with everyone. But you just had to come in tonight and ruin it by attacking one of the dancers. You’re out of control!”

”No, you out of control! If I’d known you transform from country boy to party toy in six months, I’d have left your ass back in Texas, so you’d keep it in your pants. You not the same.”

”No, I’m not! I’m not depressed anymore all the time, I’m not scared anymore, I’m not dependent on you anymore and I have a couple tattoos more. If you want someone who’s always following you around and depending on you, I propose you get a puppy and not a boyfriend,” Brock yells back, because he’s had it. Jose is absolutely impossible and has gone way too far.

”Brock!” Jose calls after him when he leaves the bedroom and slams the door behind him, but he doesn’t stop. He needs a moment to calm down. He grabs his phone and his keys and leaves.

For a while he just walks around the block, until he finds a gas station that’s still open and buys himself a cup of coffee with the last couple of dollars he has in his pockets. When he feels calmer, he walks back home.

He finds Jose sitting in the living room, a blanket thrown over his shoulders. His face is blotchy, swollen and wet, his eyes are red from crying and the sight breaks Brock’s heart.

”You came back.” It’s barely above a whisper and Brock realises that his boyfriend really thought that he was gone for good.

Brock wraps his arms around him and holds him, because he needs the embrace as much as Jose does. ”Of course I came back. I just needed a moment to calm down.”

”I thought you went to him.” Jose sniffs against his shoulder where he hides his face.

Brock cups his face and makes him look at him. ”Jose, there is nothing going on with Tyler or anyone else. I’ve never cheated on you.” Brock tells him again and looks him in the eyes. ”Do you believe me?”

It takes a moment, but finally Jose nods. ”I believe you.” Brock wipes the tears and the snot off his face, pecks his lips and holds him close again.

”I love you, papi, but we can’t continue like this.”

Jose pushes back and his eyes are wide with shock. ”What do you mean? You breaking up with me?”

”No, I’m not,” Brock pulls him back into his arms. ”But I can’t have you flying off in a jealous rage all the time. You have to trust me. And the fights you get into, the breaking things when you’re angry… you need some anger management classes, babe. And maybe some therapy, too.”

”You’re not leaving me?”

”I don’t want to leave you, Jose. I love you. But… we both need to put the work in, because we both have issues. And I can’t fix yours. I don’t know how to convince you that I’m being faithful and I’m not interested in anyone else. You believe me now, but the next guy who so much as looks my way and we’ll be back right here. I take pictures of drag queens in gay clubs. People will touch me and flirt with me, it’s part of the game, even if I don’t get it most of the time and think they’re just friendly. But I need you to trust me. And if you can’t, then we need to get help. I told you before, but I will not get beat up by anyone again, not even by you.”

”I’ve never hurt you,” Jose points out with another sniff.

”I know and I’d like for it to stay that way.” He runs his fingers through Jose’s sweaty hair. The grief and pain he must feel really affects him physically. ”Babe, if you ever hit me, that’s something I wouldn’t be able to forgive, just like cheating.”

”It on the no-go list,” Jose nods and sits up.

”Definitely.”

”Ok… your therapist, he doing the anger shit, too?” Jose seems embarrassed to even ask the question.

”I don’t know, but I can ask him. If he’s not offering it, maybe he can recommend someone.” Brock gives him an encouraging smile. ”But he could definitely help us with your jealousy.”

”And yours!”

”And mine,” Brock chuckles, because he knows Jose is right. He might not go around and beat people up, but he’s definitely been jealous and has frozen Jose out because of it.

It’s Jose who initiates the kiss that seals their deal, but it’s Brock who breaks it when he sees Jose’s hand. ”Papi, what happened to your hand? That from the fight?” Brock wonders when he sees the swollen knuckles and cuts on his boyfriend’s right hand.

”No,” Jose looks like a deer in headlights. ”I might’ve smashed the bathroom mirror and punched the wall,” comes the hesitant explanation.

”You’re an idiot, Jose,” Brock rolls his eyes, but he isn’t really angry. There’s no point in it, when they’ve already agreed to take the necessary steps to prevent this from happening again.

”But you love me anyway.” It’s a statement, not a question and Brock is glad to hear it.

”True. Guess, we’re both idiots. Let’s go upstairs so I can bandage your hand and clean up the mess you no doubt left in the bathroom.” He gets up and wraps his arm around Jose’s shoulder as they leave the living-room.

”And we still have to make up.”

”Didn’t we just do that?”

”Bitch, if you think we just going to sleep after being apart for a week and then nearly breaking up, you wrong! I expect to be dicked down till the sun comes up!” Jose huffs and Brock tries to hide his smile.

”So for another twenty minutes?” he teases after checking the time.

”Asshole!” Jose grumps before they both start laughing.

***

”James Dean?” The familiar nickname never fails to make Brock chuckle.

”Kitchen, J.Lo,” he calls and turns around to see Jose’s mother walking in, carrying large paper bags. ”Hey,” she greets him and hands him one of the bags, after he kissed her cheek hello.

”Hey. What’s all of this?” he asks and peeks into the brown bag.

”Just some groceries and food and drinks. You two never have anything at home and the kid needs to eat,” she shrugs and starts unpacking. ”There’s three more in the car.”

”Hint taken, I’ll get them,” he laughs, grabs her car keys and walks out to get the rest of the groceries. ”You know that Rachel’s only staying for two weeks, not two years, right?” he teases her when he gets back.

”Oh shut up,” she rolls her eyes and reminds him so much of her son at that moment. ”You heard anything yet?”

”Yes, Jo texted that they started boarding on time, so they should be here in three hours.”

”It’s good that Jose could stop in Houston and pick Rachel up. She’s too young to fly on her own.”

”Yeah, I think she got scared by her own bravado. At first she was all ‘I am not a baby anymore, I can fly on my own’, but she’s never even been to an airport. She wouldn’t have known where to go or what to do. I was overwhelmed by it all when we went to Hawaii, even though Jose was with me the whole time.”

”You gonna pick’em up?”

”Of course. I have to show Jose my new car,” Brock beams.

”Oh, he’s not seen it yet?”

”He was there when I bought it, but it took two months for them to deliver it, so he’s not seen it yet.”

”Ah, right. You should be very proud, you know. Making so much money with your photos and working so hard that you can buy a new car.” Anabel starts checking the things in their fridge, throwing away what she deems inedible, while storing the rest of the things she brought.

”I couldn’t have done it without Jose and his help. I had nothing when I came here, no money, no job… he was fully sponsoring me for the first three months, before I could start paying for my own stuff. And now I can even pay him back.” He feels so incredibly happy and proud. The first time he’d been able to buy Jose a present, a new watch, he’d burst into tears when he’d given it to him.

”You had therapy, that’s more important than making money. We were all worried about you, you know. When Ada called and Jose wasn’t sure, if he should go and get you. I told him, I said ‘Son, if you not going and Brock’s hurting himself or starts drinking like his dad, you not gonna forgive yourself’.”

”That all seems so far away now. I feel so different. Have I told you, I was even able to go off the anti-depressants a couple of weeks ago?”

”See, so proud of you, mijo,” she kisses his cheek again. ”And you got my stubborn idiot to finally stop acting like a teenager who gets into fights all the time. I really thought one day the cops gonna call me and I have to bail him outta jail.”

”He’s still a hothead, but he’s got himself under control now,” Brock laughs, remembering Jose’s last angry rant, when he had walked up to his punching bag in the spare room every couple of minutess, to let his frustration out. ”Most of the time.”

”Have you heard from your parents?”

”Not really. My mom talks to me when I call, but it’s all… the weather, what the priest said at church, bit of gossip about the people in town and what the animals are doing at the farm. The most I get out of her, is when she got into another fight with Lilly about how things are done.”

”And your dad? Still nothing?”

”He hasn’t talked to me since we left and I can’t really ask my mother, because she doesn’t seem to know that he came to see us.” Brock hops up and sits down on the counter.

”He still drinking?”

”Judging by what Ada says nothing’s changed. He’s still an absolute asshole to everyone.”

”Is there like a therapist in town he could see? I don’t think you can just stop drinking.”

”No, there’s not. If my dad wanted to really stop drinking, he’d have to check himself into a program in Dallas or Houston and he’s not going to do that.” Brock sighs. ”It’s just so frustrating, because I wanna help him, but I’m not sure he even wants help. Sometimes I feel like I dreamed the whole thing when we left.”

”Maybe he just wanted you to know…. and not change? It gets harder to change when you get old. I’m still young, but I say I’ll start working out every damn day and what do I do? Drink margaritas and chill by the pool.” Her very true assessment of her own habits makes Brock laugh.

”So, what’s the plan here? What are you gonna cook?”

”I’m not cooking nada. You can cook yourself. I just brought some things for Miss Rachel.”

”Mama Vanjie… as Jose would say ‘you full of shit’. What are you making?”

She slaps him, but laughs. ”I thought, you could Bbq some pinchos with chicken. Or shrimp for Jose. And I make some guacamole, tostones and garlic sauce, mofongo and empanadas. And I brought tres leches as dessert.”

”Jesus, how many people are we expecting? It’s just the five of us.” Brock knows her husband will join them as well.

”I talked to Silky and they will be over later. I said once Rachel’s in bed, we would make Coquito.”

”Isn’t that for Christmas only?”

”We can pretend it’s Christmas,” Anabel shrugs unimpressed and Brock guffaws.

”Fine. If Silky’s coming over so will be A’keria. Then I can also invite Dane and Ant, ‘cause they are in town… Rachel will be spending her first night in L.A. In the company of two gays, four gay drag queens and a crazy Puerto Rican woman. My dad would have a heart attack, if he knew.”

”Or, he’d like to get invited and dress up as well,” she jokes and Brock nearly falls off the counter when he imagines his dad as a drag queen. He will so go to hell for this thought.

Brock helps Anabel in the kitchen – as much as she lets him – and then leaves her alone in the house to pick up Jose and Rachel. Jose’s been gone for three weeks this time and as excited as Brock is about seeing Rachel again after nearly a year, he also can’t wait to see his boyfriend again. The romantic evening surely won’t happen now that Anabel invited half of WeHo over to their place, but Jose won’t leave again for the foreseeable future. They’ll make up for it later.

Impatiently he checks the screens again and again, but they only tell him that the plane has landed, nothing more. It’s not the first time he’s picking up Jose, so he hopes that he’s not gone to the baggage claim on his own for once. He checks the screen again.

”Uncle Brock!” He looks around and finally sees Rachel running towards him, with her backpack in hand and Jose’s neck pillow around her neck.

”Rachel!” She jumps and is in his arms a second later. ”God, you’ve gotten so big!” he points out as he still holds her.

”Are you calling me fat?” she asks in her usual sassy way and makes him laugh.

”Are you wearing make-up?” Brock narrows his eyes when he gets a good look at her face.

”Jose had them paint my nails and do my make up at the airport,” she nods excitedly and jumps down so she can show him her nails, which are painted neon yellow.

”You know your mother will kill me, if she sees you like this?” Brock raises his eyebrows.

”She just wearing some mascara, blush and lipgloss, so calm your ass down. And she won’t be home for another two weeks,” Jose shows up behind them. Brock turns around, sees his smirk and hugs him tightly.

”I missed you,” he tells him, kisses him and pecks his lips a couple more times before finally pulling back.

”Missed you, too,” Jose replies softly.

”We gonna get our bags now or you are you gonna continue making out here?” Rachel stops them, just when they lean in again.

”When did you become such a brat?” Brock asks and ruffles through her neatly combed hour, making her squeal.

”I’m not,” she protests as they start walking towards the baggage claim.

”And she shouldn’t be talking, ‘cause Miss Rachel’s in loooove,” Jose sing-songs teasingly.

”I’m not!”

”Oooh, who’s the guy?” Brock exchanges an amused look with Jose and wraps his arm around his waist.

”Why’d you think it a guy?” Jose grins.

”Ok, who’s the girl?” Brock rephrases, still teasing her.

”It’s not a girl!” Rachel protests.

”Oh, so it is a guy! Who is he? Where did you meet? What does he look like? Does he know you like him?” Brock asks.

”Ok, I’ll tell ya, but you’re not allowed to laugh! Best friends don’t laugh about stuff like that.” Rachel requests.

”Promise,” Brock vows and Jose hides his face in his shoulder, when he has to laugh about the spectacle.

”Ok, so…” Rachel starts her tale as they reach the baggage claim.

”You know the story already?” Brock quietly asks Jose.

”Bits and pieces. Had to keep her distracted when she nearly freaked out during take-off,” Jose whispers back and kisses him again.

”Keep an eye on the conveyor belt. I’m the best friend, I have to listen to this in detail, before she realises I’m really just her old uncle.”

”Not that old, babe,” Jose replies, wraps his arms around Brock’s waist and leans his head against his shoulder as he keeps looking for their suitcases. Brock keeps him close as he listens to his twelve year old niece babble about her first crush, kisses Jose’s forehead from time to time and is happy that he has his two favorite people back in his life, both at the same time.

***

”Babe, stop messing with your hair. You look fine,” Brock tells him and takes Jose’s hand in his to stop him from nervously fiddling with his hair again.

”Fine? Just fine? I have to look smokin’, Imma be on camera,” Jose whispers back, now fiddling with his bow-tie with the other hand. He can’t just look fine. This is the biggest thing that has ever happened to him, well, possibly.

”You are. You’re looking so hot!”

”You still like the suit? Maybe I should’ve taken the grey one?” Jose wonders.

”No, this dark blue one is perfect. You look perfect!” Brock quickly kisses him. ”And now sit up straight, stop fidgeting and smile, ‘cause your category is next.” Jose does just that and grasps Brock’s hand with both of his. Jose knows his palms are sweaty, but he also knows Brock gets it. Dressed up to the nines, both in suits and bow-ties they are sitting at large round table, sweating underneath the large spotlight above their heads. A camera man shows up next to them, doing a close up of Jose’s face. He’s blinded by the light for a second, but tries not to grimace or squint. Instead he grips Brock’s hands even tighter.

”And the winner of the MTV Video Award for best Choreography is….” Jose hears the blood rush in his ears and the seconds seem endless as the presenter opens the envelope. ”…. Vaaanjiiiiie for the video to ‘Hot as hell’.”

Jose freezes, he can’t believe it. He’s won!

”Oh my god, papi! Jose!” Brock hugs him so tightly he can barely breathe and kisses him – that’s when he knows it’s real. He’s won the motherfucking award!

Jose presses his lips to Brock’s again and then gets up. People congratulate him left and right as he makes his way up to the stage. He feels like he’s floating. On stage he accepts the award with shaky hands, smiles and pulls the little paper with his notes out, that Brock made him prepare. The letters blur in front of his eyes and he crumbles it in his hand. When he looks out into the room, he is blinded again, but then, suddenly, he manages to catch Brock’s eyes. Even from up here, he can see that his boyfriend is a very proud, crying mess. It makes him smile even wider.

”Thank you all for this award. I’d like to thank my ma and my whole family, Miss Ada and the whole bunch, my management and all the artists who book me and all the dancers who work with me and bear with me on the regular. I can’t believe I won. It crazy, ‘cause not only did I win with my first nomination, and with the video that has my niece dancing on camera for the first time – shoutout to Miss Rachel – , but also with the choreography that means a whole lot, because it was inspired by the story of the man who means the world to me and who’s been putting up with my crazy ass for the last two years. Brock, I love you so much! This is yours as much as mine! Thank you, boo, for everything.” He holds up the award again and makes his way off the stage. There are photographers beside the stage and he has to pose for a couple of pictures. He’s allowed back during the next commercial break and hurries past everyone to get back to Brock. He gets up when he sees him and ends the talk with the person sitting next to him.

”I’m so fucking proud of you,” Brock tells him and hugs him again.

”Thank you. Couldn’t have done it without you.”

”Not true, but I take it. I love you, too!”

”Wanna get out of here? Celebrate in private?” Jose just wants to be alone with Brock now, away from all the people and the cameras; get out of the suits and just be them.

”Can we do that?” Brock laughs in surprise.

”I got the award. What are they gonna do? Take it back?”

”Alright, then hurry, before they start filming again,” Brock giggles, quickly grabs their phones off the table and then they hurry through the room, hand in hand, and just make it out in time, before the doors close again for shooting.

In the uber back home they are all over each other in the backseat, Jose’s award nearly forgotten in the car when they stumble out of the car.

”Wait, papi, wait,” Brock stops him suddenly when they are making their way through the living room towards the bedroom, Jose’s jacket, shirt and bowtie already somewhere on the floor and his belt and zipper open, while Brock’s still fully dressed.

”What? You wanted to congratulate me… preferably on your knees!” Jose says and tries once more to get Brock out of his suit jacket.

”My phone keeps vibrating. Maybe it’s important.”

”Bitch, are you serious?” Jose can’t believe it. But Brock really takes his phone out and pulls him over to the couch.

”Look, it’s from Rachel,” Brock shows him the screen.

”That could’ve waited,” Jose tried to pretend he’s still grumpy, but he loves Rachel as much as Brock does.

”Oh come on now! She’s so excited about your win! She even sent a video. We can’t let her wait until we’re done, ‘cause that’s gonna take a while.”

”Oh really?” the comment shoots straight to his dick. Whenever Brock’s in that intense kind of mood, things are really getting hot and heavy in the bedroom.

”Really,” the kiss Brock gives him is as hot as the images in Jose’s head, but he has to wait and watch Rachel’s video first.

Rachel is filming and Jason, Ada, Joe and the kids, Dan and his two eldest and even Brock’s mom are all there at the dance studio. They are watching the award show live as Rachel films the moment of the announcement. They’re all silent, biting their nails, holding hands or just staring at the screen. When Jose’s win is announced they erupt in cheers and Ada bursts into tears, because she’s so happy.

”There’s Brock,” his mother can be heard saying and points at the screen, when they are shown kissing before Jose makes his way up on stage. Jose and Brock watch their reactions to Jose’s speech in the video.

”Congratulations Jose! Can’t wait to see you guys again in three weeks!” Rachel can be seen a moment later, now facing the camera. ”But, like, there’s something I gotta do now, 'cause I promised” she smirks into the camera and Jose knows she’s up to no good.

Before he can even guess at what she’s up to this time, she films her family, who are just sitting there now and then walks over to where Jose knows the mirrors are in the studio. She angles the camera at the mirrors and there’s a large paper hanging down from the ceiling. In big, bold letters the poster reads ‘Marry me?’

”What?” Jose gasps. Suddenly Brock is kneeling next to the couch and pulls a ring box out of his suit jacket.

”Marry me?” Brock asks him, this time in person, the cell phone turned off now. Jose stares at him. He can’t believe this.

”You fucking bitch!” he points a finger at him as he bursts into tears. ”This is how you propose to me? When I’m looking like this?” he points to his disheveled and half-dressed state.

Brock laughs. ”That a yes?”

Jose laughs and cries at the same time as he sinks down beside his man, kisses him and tackles him to the ground. They celebrate the win and their engagement right there, naked on the living room floor, with the cold air of the AC cooling their heated skin.

The end

[wistfulcynic]

Happy Holidays! I'm dropping into some of my fave creator's ask boxes and encouraging them to Spread the Cheer by Sharing What You Created This Year! Before a new year starts, take some time to reflect on the things you wrote or created to bless the fandom this past year. Remind us all of the awesomeness you put out there in 2019, and feel free to tease us with things to come in 2020! Then pass this along to your faves, so they can share in the fun!

Aaah! Thank you anon(s)! ❤️❤️❤️

2019 is my first full year of fic-ing, and according to AO3 I have written nearly three hundred and sixty-six thousand words, which considering that I was always the kid who submitted nine and one third pages for a ten page essay is kind of astounding. 

I had three fics begun in 2018 that carried on to this year, the first is Finding the Altar, my first attempt at the secret dating trope, mostly written last November but I wrote the epilogue for the 2019 January Joy. The second carry-over is Another Brick in the Wall, begun exactly a year ago and finished a few months into the year. It is the high school AU that I never meant to write but that ended up taking over my life, still one of my favourite fics because of how much I enjoyed writing it. Finally there’s also Both Are Infinite, which was started last September and is still unfinished. I am SO sorry for that, but I promise it will be finished. It is not abandoned!!

For things started in 2019 we have: 

The Key, an angsty, smutty one-shot written for January Joy

Their Way By Moonlight, the love of my life and my number one priority for 2020. It’s a 3B canon divergence in which Emma and Killian are soulmates who can share dreams, which leads to him coming for her and restoring her memories in New York in a very different way than in canon. There’s also a different curse on Storybrooke and a very different development for Emma and Killian’s relationship, along with loads of Captain Cobra and cursed Snowing, and an arc for Regina (including a partnership between her and Killian) that I really love.  

Honeysuckle, the purest thing I’ve ever written. Precious cinnamon roll Librarian Killian, and single-mother Emma who gets caught in a precarious situation until he comes to her rescue. Inspired by @shireness-says

Three Non-Blondes, secret-dating attempt number two. Very silly, but fun, with maybe my favourite version of Mary Margaret. 

The Depths of Love, another 3B divergence with no second curse. Emma trying to work out her feelings and Killian trying to protect himself from heartbreak. Also my very first collaboration with @thisonesatellite and honestly I’m not sure this story would exist without her. 

The smutty trio of Schadenfreude parts One and Two, and Steak and Something on the Side.   Voyeur Neal and Asshole Walsh. 

Osaka-shi Serenade, the most personal thing I’ve written. Based on how my husband and I met when we were teaching English in Japan. Still unfinished, but again, *will* be!

Two Sunday Mornings, a pair of angsty ficlets from each of their POVs, plus Brothers Jones. 

One More Kiss, a Lieutenant Duckling short fic that I didn’t love when I wrote it but has really grown on me, to the point where I might (*might*) expand it at some point. Quite angsty, but happy at the end. 

The Great Grammar Caper, a very very VERY silly future fic in which Deputy Jones is the hero we need but his efforts are foiled by a devious Granny. 

Rainbound, a take on the snowed-in trope, only with rain.  

The Parquet Man, absolutely and without question the most fun I’ve ever had writing. The storied romance that is Captain Floor, told from the POV of Killian (by me) and Floor (by @thisonesatellite, who writes unorthodox POVs like NO ONE ELSE). 

The Very Witching Time and its follow-up The Sleep of the Sun, written for @cssns and @cspupstravaganza respectively. My very favourite verse, in which Emma is a witch and Killian cursed in the form of a dog. There is magic and an extraordinary house with a sentient garden, and creepy forest, and more magic, and Cora with an evil plot, and even more magic, and some adorable and surprising children at the end. PLUS some absolutely stunning art by @mariakov81 to accompany it ❤️❤️❤️

How Not To Flirt, based on a prompt. Emma tries to flirt with Killian but he fails entirely to see it. 

Words Unspoken, a friends-to-roommates-to-lovers story full of mutual pining and very, very poor communication. 

The Ballad of Emma and Killian, in which they are not famous when they meet, but when their careers take off they stand by each other through it all. Rockstar!Emma and actor!Killian.  

On What They Fall, my magnificent octopus. Angry, damaged Killian who can’t see how much Emma loves him. Mutual pining, angst, Captain Book brOTP, and people working through their emotions, prioritising their mental health, and coming out of hard times strong and brave enough to allow themselves to be happy. Another personal favourite. 

abandon, a birthday gift for @kmomof4. Neverland sex-pollen smut, pure and simple. Well, simple anyway. 

come sit at our feast, a Halloween fic written for @csrolereversal Halloweek. Without question the most out-there thing I’ve written, with all the OUAT characters reimagined as supernatural beings who come together every Halloween to throw themselves a hell of a party. 

Drink The Wild Air, a birthday gift for @thisonesatellite which will be finished SOON. The Captain Duckling high-seas swashbuckling adventure tale I’ve wanted to write for some time. Featuring Brothers Jones 2.0 and CASTLE STORMING. 

Drabbles, a series of short fics of all kinds, written when I need to clear my mind. 

Across The Snowy Places, a Thanksgiving tropestravaganza. Featuring secret dating, snowed-in, only one bed, heater not working, favourite author, found families, matchmaking, and drunken affection/confession. ALL THE TROPES. 

To Keep It All The Year, my Christmas gift for @katie-dub. Final chapter coming soon! This story has just flowed out of me. It features angry, broken Killian, single-mother Emma, adorable wee bab Henry, and some extraordinary Christmas magic. 

WHEW!! I think that’s all of them! I’m a bit 😮😲😳🤯 looking at this list. It’s been a less-than-great year on the whole, to be honest, but at least productive on the fanfic front!! 

Thanks for the ask, anon, and I hope you have a great Christmas and a brilliant New Year!! 

- 

[izzy-b-hands]

Dancer Chapter One

This is set in a Post-Golden Circle AU wherein nobody in Kingsman died (aka we still have Merlin, Roxy and JB, but we also got to meet the Statesman folks through...we’ll save that for when I eventually do my rewrite of Golden Circle lol.) 

For now, the point is everyone is alive, and Eggsy has a very important mission he must undertake.

In booty shorts.

For the greater good (and because why couldn’t Rocketman and Kingsman share wardrobes you know. Why not. There is not reason why not is the answer.)

Warning, we get NSFW in this. A lot. Just. Be ready for that. Violence because spies, sex because of lots of things (emotions and other things, you’ll see when you read.) If that ain’t your cup of tea, maybe skip this one. 

And yes, I did title it after the Queen song. 

Shout out and my thanks to @bearkare for helping me figure out how to chop this up into chapters properly; I owe you one big time!!!

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

“These are...necessary?” Eggsy asked, and snapped the waistband of the golden shiny booty shorts. 

“Absolutely,” Harry replied, and handed over another stack of similarly shiny clothing. “These should get you through the rest of the mission without needing any laundry done.” 

“Are they all...” 

“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” Harry smiled. “Besides, these missions can be...fun. I quite enjoyed one I did, in the seventies, in a club where you could-” 

“Oh, you could tell me about that later,” Eggsy interrupted, shoving the stack of multicolored booty shorts into his bag. “A reward for finishing the mission.” 

“It was a swingers club, is what it was.” 

“Aaah, you said it anyway,” Eggsy sighed. “And the tops are all-” 

“Mesh,” Harry finished. “But there are also sweatshirts, in case you get cold.” 

“Booty shorts and mesh shirts in December, how could I possibly get cold,” Eggsy murmured. “Sweatpants?” 

“One pair that I could find, so be careful,” Harry answered, and handed over a pair of Juicy Couture sweats that read ‘Bitch’ in sparkling fake jewels on the back. 

“...you found these?” 

“I did.” 

“So who previously used these here at Kingsman? Just...wondering. Or was that you, at the club? I presume you still go, since you’re keen to talk about it-” 

Harry cut him off with the toss of a pair of heels. 

“Male strippers don’t have to wear these, I thought?” 

“Some do, some don’t,” Harry shrugged. “Most anyone can wear most anything. Give them a try. We’ve got platforms as well, if you’d prefer.” 

“I would, I think. Might break an ankle either way,” Eggsy sighed, and handed back the heels in exchange for a pair of golden, shimmering, chunky platforms. “Shoes for after work?” 

An extra pair of Adidas were the last thing he tossed into his bag for the mission, before taking a final look at himself in the mirror. 

“I don’t know if I can do this.” 

“Why not? You look fantastic, and the club we need you to infiltrate doesn’t even require you to strip every night. Hell, intel has revealed that some of the men that work there don’t even strip, they just work the floor and go about sitting in laps and whatnot. You could stick to that, whatever, so long as you find it.”

Harry’s confident words echoed as he stepped out and headed down the street to the waiting Kingsman cab. ‘It’ was a chemical formula, that the biochemical weapons dealing club owner was threatening to use to create what he called ‘the ultimate weapon.’ Whether that was really true they’d find out after, when they could see the formula and what it actually contained. 

But that all came down to him.

The club was a four hour flight away, in Ibiza. Even on the Kingsman private plane, he was restless, plucking at the elastic edges of the shorts, pacing in the platforms to try and practice balancing in them. 

“Where’s all this coming from?” Merlin asked from the pilot’s seat. “All I can hear is those damned shoes; on a regular plane, you know I’d have to make you sit down, right?” 

“It’s nothing,” Eggsy muttered, even though it was indeed something. Tilde was less than pleased he’d been called in for a mission, and unhappier still that involved him working in a strip club. Never mind that they’d spent weeks arguing over how he could continue to complete his princely duties while staying out of the limelight and skipping public events. She wanted him to be able to show his face and be at her side, but couldn’t understand what it would mean. 

Giving up Kingsman. Giving up the thing that had helped him become the man she loved. 

Or that she might still love. Maybe. He wasn’t so sure anymore. 

But he’d asked Roxy to stay with Tilde, so he could provide them both with mission updates (edited as needed to protect Tilde from the club owner and anyone he might send out should their communiques somehow be discovered) and he hoped she would see that as a sign of his love and care. 

“I don’t believe that,” Merlin sighed. “But we’re nearly there. Have you got everything?” 

‘Everything’ consisted of not just his bag of clothing, but one bag of regular make-up, eco-friendly glitter, pasties that he did not understand the point of his having, and another bag full of...’make-up.’ 

Eyeliner that could be used to essentially draw a fuse on a surface and lit on fire, perfume that was in a super-pressurized nozzle and contained a flesh eating toxin that acted as soon as it hit skin, eye shadows that if brushed on a finger and then dipped in a drink could knock out a bull elephant in a minute (what it would do to a human...well. Better not to think about that, and to use it only if absolutely necessary.) 

That, plus the regular Kingsman kit, of course, carefully hidden in among all three bags, very carefully in the case of the pistols and ammunition. 

All of it banged against his legs as he did his best to look...however he figured he was meant to look. Confident, and not like he was worried about whether or not this was a mission he could pull off, and not like he was worried he might come home to Tilde too upset to be consoled or worse. 

“You!” the man that called out to him from the club’s doorway was a fierce-looking person, literally. A tiger with open mouth was tattooed on the front his neck, down onto his chest, with blood dripping from the fangs. “You’re fucking late! You know, in my day, when they sent a new boy, they sent him on time! No fucking respect for the show anymore, none at all.” 

“I’m sorry, my flight ran late,” Eggsy tried. “But if you let me set my things down, I can get started right away, get out on the floor, serve some drinks, you know.” 

The man scoffed, and pulled him into the doorway, nearly knocking him off his platforms. “Serve some drinks, pah. You’re tonight’s main entertainment. How else is the boss supposed to know if you’re worth the investment money? After all, your agency doesn’t get paid until we see how you work.” 

He led Eggsy by the arm down a dark hall, and shoved open a door which led to a small green room. “And you should know...not many of you work out.” 

“Then I’d be headed home, I suppose,” Eggsy replied as he stepped into the room, taking in the cracking paint on the walls, the cushions with stuffing coming out of them on the couch, and the filthy mirror on the make-up table. 

The man laughed. “Home? Is that what they told you? I thought they weren’t going to lie anymore...ah well. Not my monkey, not my circus, as they say. Sure. You would be sent home, let’s say that. Just hurry the fuck up, get into something good, and when I knock, you take a left, then another left, and come out on stage. We’ll be waiting.” 

Eggsy dropped his bags carefully by the couch, and as soon as the door was closed rifled through the clothing one to find the earpiece hidden in it. 

“Merlin!” 

“Eggsy! Safe and sound then, good to know. Now, I’ll be laying low around town, got myself a little set-up so I can assist you if needed and-” 

“You can assist me by telling me why the fuck none of you warned me they’d want me to strip the first night. I literally just got here, and they want me on stage, now!” Eggsy spat. 

“Okay, alright. Keep calm,” Merlin soothed. “This isn’t like you anyway; are you sure you’re alright?” 

Eggsy sighed, and contemplated spilling his heart to Merlin now. But he couldn’t, not really. For his own sake, and for the sake of the mission. 

“Just...I’m sorry. They made it fairly clear they kill any performer who doesn’t make the cut, so I’m a bit tense, is all.” 

“...sure,” Merlin replied, and Eggsy could hear the disbelief in his voice. “We can talk later, perhaps? Just in case there would be anything else you aren’t telling me. Not that there is! But...if there were.” 

“I’d like that,” Eggsy said softly. “So, any suggestions on...” 

“The stripping? Oh Jesus, no. Could you imagine, me? Be like watching an Ent strip,” Merlin chuckled. “You’ve got this, you’ve done your research, I know you asked us not to watch you practice, but I do know you spent a good few hours in the studio space we rented for you. Just do what you’ve researched, put your heart into it, and you’ll be fine for the night, at least. From there...we’ll figure it out, alright?” 

“Okay,” Eggsy muttered, and hid the earpiece back in its spot. From the bag he pulled a purple glittery mesh tank top, and a black thong that, as far as he could tell, was held together purely with wishes and will for as little material it was made of. Over that went a pair of black velvet booty shorts, and the top-

“Oh good, I caught you before you were all done,” a younger blonde man, his make-up bright gold and glittery with eyeliner winged sharp, in a black feathered mesh robe strode in. “Your agency said they weren’t sending your whole wardrobe, so here-” 

He yanked open an apparently half-broken closet door at the side of the room that Eggsy hadn’t even noticed, to reveal a sea of bright colors and patterns on all variety of clothes. “What you have on looks fine, but he’ll want you to take off more layers than that. I’d say, this, this, and ooh! I bet you look handsome in a suit, so this as well.” 

The man tossed a black T-shirt, a pair of loose tear-away joggers, and a suit jacket and pants towards Eggsy. 

Eggsy stared. “Thanks. Do you-” 

“Oh!” the young man laughed. “Not anymore. No, I oversee. Like a manager, but better, because I don’t have to fuck the boss anymore to keep my pole and my space in the club. Well, at least I said I was done with doing that now.” 

Eggsy realized he must have made a face, because the man laughed again. 

“Oh darling, bless you. How else do you think you keep your spot? Any other club would make you pay to rent the pole, the stage, right? Well, here at El Tigre, we don’t make you do that. You get paid to be here, to do your work. But, in order to stay...” 

The man shrugged. “Life is dirty, and difficult. It could be just as bad anywhere else, so make a garden out of the mulch you’ve got, I say. I’m Evan, by the way.” 

“You aren’t from here, I take it?” 

Evan smiled. “No. I don’t think anyone who dances here is actually from Ibiza. No, the ladies and gentlemen who come in like their...imports, if you will. Even if that means us white-bread boys raised up on fish and chips, you know? And the boss has his tastes as well, and that’s the final say on it, really.” 

Eggsy nodded. “Thank you. For the clothes, and the information. I didn’t realize they’d want me to dance right away, I mean I just got off the plane and made my way over here, and-” 

Evan interrupted him with a hug. “It’s intimidating, I know. And ignore Tony, he’s an ass, but he only hurts people if ordered to. He’s loyal like that.” 

“That man with the tiger on his neck?” Eggsy tried and failed to bite back a giggle. “His name is...Tony.” 

Evan giggled right back. “He hates it, but yeah. We all call him Tony the tiger behind his back. Long as you don’t let him hear you say it, you’re safe. Now, you finish up. Oh, and match your shadow color to the color of your thong. Boss really goes for that.” 

Evan was gone with a clack of his heels and a swish of his robe, and Eggsy wished he’d have stayed. Not even to gain more intel (though it was all good and needed), but just to not be alone in the moment. 

But he managed it, and after choosing a new pair of platforms (shiny black vinyl with purple laces) he made it to the stage. 

The club was empty, except for Evan, sitting on one side of the stage. Tony was on the other. 

And at the end of the stage, dead center, was the man he needed to get close to, close enough to find and steal the chemical formula that might destroy thousands, millions, if sold to the wrong hands.  The club owner, the “boss” as everyone apparently called him, Boniface Gagneux. 

He wasn’t the stereotypical ‘club owner’ at least not in the way movies would show, to Eggsy’s memory. He was sharp-looking both in handsomeness and in the way a canine poked out just a bit from his top lip as he smiled at Eggsy, as though he’d bite if he got too close. His dark hair had just a touch of grey in it at the sides, and the dark suit he wore was beautifully tailored, sprinkled with sewn in tiny rhinestones on the shoulders, so he actually sparkled under the club lighting. 

“Mr. Wyn Morris, we meet at last. I haven’t heard much about you, but-” Gagneux’s eyes traced him from top to bottom. “You look even better than your picture. Hopefully you dance as pretty as you look.” 

Eggsy bit back a comment. That wasn’t what his character, Wyn, would say, not at all. Wyn was happy to be here, and happy to please, even if Gagneux’s glances made him feel sick to his stomach. 

He simply nodded, and the music started. 

The song he didn’t know, but it was something that seemed it would have fit only in setting like this, something about ‘being wanted at seventeen.’ The beat wasn’t too fast, nor too slow, but it took him a minute to find it nonetheless, to roll his hips the way he’d seen in every video lesson he could find online. 

Even with practice, he still felt horribly out of it, and was sure he had to look ridiculous, as he tried to vamp it up, stripping off the suit jacket and tossing it to Evan, who blessedly gave him a smile. 

Gagneux’s face was an imperceptible mask now, watching him with piercing blue eyes. Was he impressed, did he hate it, was he busy worrying if he’d accidentally left the stove on? There was no way to tell. 

The suit pants were rip off just like the leggings beneath them, and those he tossed to Tony, who glared at him so sharply he almost looked for a stab wound. 

Instead, he kept on, and bemoaned that they’d chosen such a long song. Actually spacing out when to rip everything else off was difficult with music he hadn’t used before (and Tilde, upset as she was, had refused to be a practice audience to help him get it right, though he’d begged her to do it, and had thought he might find it all funny.) 

It felt too soon to shed the T-shirt as he strode on-beat further down the stage, but he did it anyway before dropping to his knees and rocking backwards on his haunches, hips gyrating the entire time. It fucking hurt, and he realized he should have used his time on the plane to stretch, not to worry. 

He leaned forward, then crawled a bit further down, locking eyes with Gagneux. Still no change in expression though, not even when he ripped off the joggers and tossed them to a happily laughing Evan, who caught them and hugged them close. Evan was the hype man he desperately needed, and he made a mental note to thank him later for the help as he dropped again to his knees at the end of the stage. 

Gagneux reached a hand forward, and plucked at the string of the thong, then raised an eyebrow at him. 

There had been no mention of that, full frontal. But everything about the damn mission had been a surprise so far, why should this be any different? 

He tossed his mesh tank top to Tony, then with a bit of effort, snapped the string of the thong, and handed it to Gagneux, who had leaned forward so close he could have pulled Eggsy off the stage. 

He half thought that might be what would happen, but instead Gagneux just held the destroyed thong tight, and raised a hand to stop the music. 

“Not bad. Go back, down the hall, and take a right.” 

Eggsy nodded, and slowly stood. “I’ll be a just a moment, to grab some clothes.” 

“No.” Gagneux said softly. “Come as you are.” 

The DJ started up another song once he was off stage, and he could hear Evan chattering to Tony. He wished he could have another moment with him, to ask what to expect now. He had an idea, but hearing it from someone who’d actually been in the moment would have been better. 

Instead, he did as he was told: down the hall, and to the right, into an office. It was elegant, all in black, a black marble desk and black velvet couch. The chair he when to sit on had a towel emblazoned with his fake name, also black, sitting on it. A blessing, he certainly wasn’t about to sit his bare ass on a chair that likely was meant for use by whoever came into Gagneux’s office day-to-day. 

The song that was playing outside filtered in just before Gagneux walked in, then shut the door. The aggressive beat was just audible through it, but Eggsy had a sinking feeling not much else would be audible to anyone listening in on the office from the outside. 

“Look at you,” Gagneux smirked, and ran a hand along Eggsy’s jawline. “Those thighs alone will earn you fans, but with the face? Forget it. You’ll have men and women coming in here begging for you.” 

He sat behind the desk, and chuckled. “That means you’re in, if you weren’t sure.” 

Eggsy laughed lightly. “Good. I’m glad to hear it. We set up a schedule now then, or?” 

Gagneux smiled. “We’ll get to that. First, I need to know you won’t be swayed by any of those offers.” 

“From patrons? No, of course not.” 

“Good. Because, as Evan may have already mentioned, when you’re working for me, you’re mine. Is that understood? Dancing, and the club, and me-those are your three priorities,” Gagneux said, holding up a finger with each word. 

“And myself?” Eggsy asked before he could stop himself. 

But Gagneux just shook his head. “I look after you. Mutual caring: you look after the club and your work and our patrons, and I look after you.” 

Eggsy could swear Gagneux had the DJ doing this on purpose, changing up the music to manipulate the moment, as a slower, but still bopping and more romantic song came on. 

“Come here,” Gagneux stood and walked to the front of the desk, in front of Eggsy. “Stand up.” 

He obeyed, and waited to shiver as Gagneux would presumably do something horrible, or god only knew what else and-

The kiss was soft. And sweet, and not at all what he was expecting. He didn’t mean to kiss back either, but it took him by such surprise, and it was just something else. 

Gagneux pressed his forehead to Eggsy’s, a hand gently holding his chin. “I’m excited to work with you. Tomorrow, starting 22:00, we’ll have you just work the floor, to get used to the place when it’s full. I close completely the days I’m getting new talent in, so what you saw out there is far from the norm. Just lap dances and drinks on the floor. We’ll let you get your sea legs before putting you back onstage, though I don’t think that will take you long. Evan will walk you to your apartment; nobody leaves the club alone is one of my rules.” 

He let go of Eggsy’s chin and moved away from him. “Have a good night, Wyn.” 

Eggsy swallowed hard, and nodded. “You as well, Mr. Gagneux.” 

“Boniface. No need for such formalities here,” Gagneux...or rather, Boniface, said, leaning back against the desk. 

Eggsy nodded again, and picked up the towel before trotting back to the green room, his head spinning, and his heart beating entirely too fast for comfort. 

[krreader]

like a butterfly | chapter 10.

pairing: min yoongi x reader fandom: bts warnings: non idol!au ; single dad!yoongi ; language  ; small smut part genre: fluff ; angst ; smut previous: 1 ; 2 ; 3 ; 4 ; 5 ; 6 ; 7 ; 8 ; 9

summary: you never planned on becoming the babysitter of min yoongi’s daughter, one of the richest and most famous producers of south korea. you also didn’t plan on becoming so attached to the little girl, as well as her father. (Or: hot, successful and single dad hires broke babysitter.)

a/n: all I can say is this: I’m sorry and I’m also really not. 

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You really didn't know for how long Mei had been standing in the room, but it was only when you woke up and wanted to turn around to cuddle into Yoongi again, that you found her staring at you with wide eyes and an open mouth.

“Yoongi,” you hissed, trying to shake him awake, as gently as you could, so she wouldn't notice. Unfortunately, he only grumbled and wanted to move closer to you. Desperate times call for desperate measures. And since he was still naked, you decided to pinch him where you shouldn't pinch a guy. And like something had bit him, he sat up straight in bed, his daughter being the first person he saw.

“You.. you're..-” she started.

“We.. were playing a game,” you lied with a big smile, “Right, Yoongi?”

“Yeah! Yeah, we played it all night long.”

“Really? Why wasn't I invited for the game?”

Ah, fuck. He should have expected that, “Well, because the purpose of this game was to bring us closer together.. so that we don't fight anymore.”

“Are you friends now?”

Yoongi turned his head to look at you, even though you were still looking at Mei. And all he could think was: 'So much more than that, love'.

“Absolutely,” you grinned happily, “Can you give us like five minutes, Mei? Maybe you can already pack your suitcase? I'll be there to help you soon, okay?”

“Why? Do you want to play some more?”

“No, pumpkin. Your dad and I just need to sort out some things before we leave. You know.. boring adult stuff.”

“Ew.”

“Exactly,” you giggled.

And with that, she ran out of her room and you let out a relieved sigh.

“We could have just told her, you know?” Yoongi said.

“Told her what?” you got up and quickly put on some underwear, “That we've had sex? I'm not sure she'd be that thrilled.”

His heartbeat quickened for a moment and his stomach twisted when you said that, “Is that all it was? Sex?”

“You know that's not what I meant,” you put on a shirt and pants, “But we shouldn't tell her.. not yet.. not when this.. thing between us has just started. What if it doesn't work out and she'll only get hurt in the end? I don't want that Yoongi and I don't think you do either.”

Of course you were right and he knew it was the right thing to do, but he still couldn’t help that he wanted to tell his daughter that he might have finally found another woman he fell in love with.. who he was happy with.

“Why are you so responsible?”

“Because you hired me as her nanny for a reason,” you climbed back onto the bed and pressed a sweet and casual kiss on his lips. Simply because you could.

The second he tried to deepen it however, you shoved him back.

“No, no, no. Your daughter is waiting for me. Get dressed and start packing. We've got a flight to catch.”

The flight was as relaxed as the first one.

Mei didn't sleep much, but was busy with watching Disney movies. Yoongi was working and you were either reading or also watching a movie.

In short, not a lot happened during all these hours, but as soon as you landed, chaos began.

Paparazzi were everywhere, with Yoongi's nomination for best producer, that could have been expected, but neither of you had expected that many people.

“Is there no other exit?” you asked, already picking up Mei.

“No.. but it's alright. Just make sure to keep her close and you stay close to me, alright?” but that was easier said than done. Because there weren't just three or four of them out there, but a shit ton of them. And you, a previously broke university student, just weren't used to any of that. But Yoongi interlinked your fingers and pulled you with him, giving you no other choice but to follow.

And once the glass doors slid open, all you could do was hope that Yoongi knew what he was doing.

You wrapped your arm tighter around Mei’s little body and let him guide you through the masses. Yoongi made sure that he was always in front of you, so that he could push any who came too close aside.

Questions like: “What are your thoughts on the nomination?” or “Who are you going to attend with?” popped up. But the most asked question, without a doubt was: “Who is that? Is that your new girlfriend?”

Yoongi didn't answer a single one of them, just pulled you with him and was glad that as soon as you were outside, his driver was already waiting for you three.

He helped you in first, then he climbed in after you and immediately pulled Mei onto his lap when he saw her crying.

“I'm so sorry, baby.. I didn't know there'd be that many.. are you okay?” he gently stroked her back and kissed her head.

The little girl nodded, but still hugged her father a little tighter.

“As happy as I am for about the whole nomination..,” you began, gently brushing over the back of Mei's head, “We need to be more careful from now on. For her sake.”

“I agree,” he sighed and placed his cheek on Mei’s head so that he could look at you. He’d have to hire security for now, depending on how bad it would get, maybe even for Mei and you. 

Hopefully this chaos would be over as soon as the award show was done.

But for now, it was time to go home.

Mei was in bed at 8:30 PM sharp and as soon as she was, Yoongi walked into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around you from behind, beginning to kiss your neck, “I was thinking..”

“Did it hurt?”

“You do realize that if you keep this up, I'm turning to spanking..”

“Aaah,” you laughed and turned around in his arms, “But what if that's what I’m going for?”

“Then you're my soulmate,” he grinned and dipped down to place a kiss against your lips, “Anyways.. The award show.. I want you to come with me.”

“Wh..- What?” your eyes widened, “Why?”

“Why not? There's only you that I'd even consider taking with me.. otherwise I'd be going alone.”

“Why not take one of your friends? Jungkook? Taehyung?”

“I'm having sex with neither of them, so I'd rather not.”

“You only want to see me dress up in a fancy dress again, don't you?” you narrowed your eyes at him, but were smirking anyways. He was just so predictable. 

“Perhaps,” a little unexpectedly, he picked you up and put you down on the counter behind you, so that he was standing between your legs, “So what do you think?”

Right now? Not much, because he was beginning to kiss your cleavage and the only sounds coming out of your mouth right now were moans, especially when he began massaging your right breast through your bra.

“I'm.. I..”

Yoongi chuckled and nodded knowingly, “It's alright. You can give me an answer some other time. But for now.. how about we take this to the bedroom?”

“I love it when you're so romantic,” you giggled and wrapped your arms and legs around him, letting him carry you to your bedroom.

Maybe he carried you to your bedroom on purpose.

Scratch that, he was definitely doing it on purpose, because that night, you weren't as quiet as you were the last time and he was probably afraid that Mei might hear it and think her father was beating her nanny.

But every time his palm hit your butt cheek, he gently rubbed over it, making sure that you were still getting the most pleasure possible out of this.

He dipped his head between your legs and licked one stripe up, your hands fisting into your bed sheets, while you bit down hard on your lip.

This night didn't last nearly as long as the one yesterday did. He took you from behind and way rougher than last night too. He pulled on your hair, while he occasionally let his hand smack down hard on your ass cheek. His goal was to leave a hand print, which he surely would at this point.

But that was the good thing now that your first time with each other was out of the way.

Because from now on, whenever you were in the mood, you could do this, screw each other upstairs, while trying really hard not to scream out the other one's name and then fall into bed completely covered in sweat and exhaustion taking over you, only to fall asleep in the other one's arms.

But you both knew what happened the last time you did this, didn’t you?

What did you think was going to happen this time, that Mei would just not look for you two when she woke up and couldn't find you anywhere downstairs?

And why didn't you look the door?

“Did you play the game without me again?” she pouted the next morning and crawled up on your bed, Yoongi quickly pulling the blanket up higher, to cover your naked boobs.

“Heeey baby girl,” he chuckled nervously, “Sorry, we didn't want to wake you.”

“I'm really happy you are friends now, you know?” she stated and looked at you with a pout, “But do you like me less than daddy now, (Y/N)?”

“What? Mei,” you grabbed the blanket and pressed it against your chest, so that you could lean forward and press a soft kiss against her forehead, gently cupping her cheek, “I'll never like you any less, just because your father and I are getting along now. You know you're always going to be number one for the both of us.”

“Like a family?” she asked with hopeful eyes, turning to look from you to Yoongi.

“Yeah,” Yoongi said with a smile, “We're a family now.”

Take that bliss. Hold on to it tight. And try not to let go of it again.

That's what you tried to do for the next three weeks.

You really did feel like you were a family now.

Mei still didn't know you and Yoongi were.. well.. a thing, but she would probably start to suspect it soon, with how often she found Yoongi in your bed.

You spent your mornings with him, then he went to work, you dropped Mei off at school, cleaned up at home, picked Mei up again and when Yoongi came home, you spent the rest of the night like a family, watching movies in bed, having dinner.. just.. being together.

But then the night of the award show came and you had agreed to accompany Yoongi, since he had been really adamant about it and you didn't want to let him down. He had bought you a dress that you never would have been able to afford, plus the lingerie beneath it, that he wanted to see once the night was over and had managed to convince Taehyung to take Mei for the night, just because he had so many plans for after the award show.

Sure, he was honored that he was nominated and mostly likely would win, but what would come after? He was way more excited for that.

You checked yourself in the mirror one last time, smiling happily at your reflection looking back at you.

You couldn't remember the last time you looked so happy.

You had been a broke college student who had barely been able to get by, not really having any family or friends you were able to count on. Now you had a job that you loved, were still studying and could actually focus on your studies and had a family that loved and cherished you as much as you loved and cherished them.

You had changed.. transformed almost.. and you loved this new side of yourself.

You couldn't wait to see what the future held for you, whether you would change even more.

But for now, you turned around when the doorbell rang and walked over to open it, your heels clicking against the hard, wooden floor.

At first, Mei had been upset that her father wasn't taking her with him, but he had whispered something into her ear that sounded a lot like: “Maybe she'll fall in love with me if I take her,” and then the entire discussion had been over just like that and she was absolutely on board with you going, instead of her.

So yeah, you obviously had expected to see a smirking Yoongi standing on the other side of the door, which is why you opened up saying: “You're early..- Oh!” your eyes widened and you quickly bowed, “I'm so sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

“It's quite alright,” the stranger smiled kindly and god, if beauty had one specific image, then you were staring right at it.

“Is there.. anything I can help you with?”

“Does Min Yoongi live here?”

“Yoongi? Uhm.. yeah! I'm his daughter's nanny, (Y/N).”

“His daughter..,” the stranger looked down for a moment, then back up at you, “Mei?”

“Yes,” you grinned from ear to ear, “You know her?”

“I used to.. a long time ago. But I don't think she remembers me.”

You really didn't want to be rude, but Yoongi would be here any second, and you had actually planned on spending some alone time with him before you'd have to leave, so without trying to sound disrespectful, you asked: “I'm sorry but.. who are you?”

“Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't even introduce myself. My name is Kim Minseo,” she began with a smile. But the next sentence had your stomach turn upside down, because in no way had you expected to come face to face with this person. Ever, “I'm Mei's mother.”

[hazed-out]

Hazed Out AU - Chapter 1

Author’s note: i know that we are all sobbing over the new episode, which is a great moment to drop the first chapter of our AU, so that y’all get more content to enjoy and distract yourself from all the pain that the episode caused, because it has nothing to do with the new episode even though it’s still a bit messed up, but still take it! i hope that all of you get to enjoy it, as we worked really hard on it! -mod Cinna

The contestants patiently stood in the field, waiting as they bickered in between themselves and talking about pretty much anything that came to mind in the peaceful early morning. The sun’s gentle rays of light gave a soothing warmth as MePhone stepped into the area, standing in front of the contestants as they quickly went quiet and drifted their attention towards the small smartphone. Mephone shifted, resting his hands on his hips as he took a quick glance to MePad, his ever so intelligent assistant, watching and standing beside him.

“Greetings and salutations!” MePhone spoke, his deep although quite cheerful voice resonating audibly as he gave his characteristic greeting. “I hope that everyone is ready for today’s challenge! It will depend entirely on your own ability to work together as a team and come up with something new and interesting” the host explained excitedly. The contestants just took their time to attentively listen to his instructions, “today’s challenge will be for each team to come up with their very own performance act, you will be scored in a scale of 1 to 20 depending on how spectacular your display of talent gets to be!” MePhone grinned at his own playful wording, enjoying himself quite a bit as some of the contestants gave him an annoyed glance. others snickered a bit, although their expression quickly changed to a more annoyed one as Cheesy took care of slapping his knee audibly shortly after, making his presence known in his own, quite obnoxious, way.

“Anyways…” MePhone drifted, refocusing himself on the subject at hand. “You will be judged by a few other guests and I, so I’d recommend that all of you do your best in the presentation! You have until tonight to come up with something and rehearse it, so all of you better hurry and get things going!” The host explained calmly, some of the contestants being visibly annoyed at how little time they had to get ready for the challenge. “And… what are you going to do in the meantime while we are busy with the performance?” PaintBrush asked, their voice tone consisting of curiosity, but believing that he was probably just going to sit around and not do much anyways.

“Well, PaintBrush, I’ll be taking care of setting the stage up for tonight, which isn’t an easy task as the equipment is actually quite heavy, complex, and annoying to get ready and going” MePhone complained, visibly irritated at having to do it himself. Unfortunately he really didn’t have anyone else that could help him carry around the equipment as Toilet would probably break them, and they were too heavy to be pushed around by MePad.

“I’d recommend that everyone gets around to working on their acts as soon as possible, you don’t have much time to work with and get things ready. I hope that everyone gets to do well in their performances and we will see you tonight, remember to not be late.” MePad noted, watching as the contestants dispersed into their own respective teams and left the area. Each of them moved to more private places so that the other team wouldn’t try to copy their performance.

MePhone turned around, gesturing MePad to follow him as they both left, chatting a bit together meanwhile they went to do their own tasks as well.

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                                                   Time skip

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MePhone shifted, holding firmly onto the large box he carried in his arms, trying to get onto the stage as he carefully walked up the stairs. He watched where he placed his feet as to not fall nor drop the box. This one being particularly heavy, filled with equipment that will be used to prepare the stage for the performances of both teams.

The small smartphone gave a soft sigh, taking a few moments to admire the peaceful evening silence and the sky’s landscape, the gentle gradient of oranges, purples and dark blues reminding the host that nighttime is getting near, and alongside it the presentation of the acts created by the teams. MePhone quickly snapped out of his thoughts, getting back to the task in hand and taking a few more steps across the stage, his dark shoes clicking gently against the wooden floor. while he lowered the large box he heard a soft rattle as the equipment all shifted inside, he placed the box onto the wooden floorboards of the stage.

MePhone lowered himself onto the floor as well, kneeling down beside the large box and starting to unpack its contents, taking several long cables out, some thin and some others fairly big, along with a few controllers and other miscellaneous electronics. He placed them onto the floor one after another, untangling them in the process to make it easier for him to work with them.

After a few moments of unpacking electronics, MePhone got interrupted by a quite annoying but all-too-familiar voice, making him jump a bit in his place. “MISTAH PHONE!” Toilet, the fairly loud and silly assistant called out, jumping onto the stage with the small smartphone, who just gave an irritated glance his way. “what is it, Toilet?” MePhone asked, his tone of voice clearly portraying his irritation at having the relaxing quiet of the evening be disturbed by his loud assistant. “Are ya almost done here?” Toilet asked back in his usual excited tone, “yeah, just go get MePad and the contestants; It’s almost time for the presentation” Mephone requested, getting up shortly after from his spot on the floor as he gestured Toilet to leave, just wanting to get everything set up already.

“OKaY, Mistah pHONe!” the cheerful assistant exclaimed, hopping off the stage and leaving the area as MePhone continued, getting behind a large speaker that was hidden behind the curtains and pushing it forwards, placing it so that it was closer to the edge of the stage, doing the same with another speaker located in the contrary end of the platform, before he grabbed a few of the large cables that rested on the floor.

Mephone kneeled down beside one of the speakers, starting to connect the cords into one of them, hearing the satisfying click it did as it was plugged in, before getting back up.

MePhone walked calmly to the other one, sitting back down as he heard everyone else approaching the area in the distance, struggling quite a bit as he tried to make the cord connect, not really being able to tell if the cable was bended or if it just wasn’t the correct one for the speaker, pressing his hands against the back of it as he tried to make the wire connect.

“Hello, sir” MePad greeted, calling MePhone’s attention as he took a glance towards the origin of the voice, “Hey, MePad.” the host greeted back, watching as the intelligent tablet walked up towards the stage alongside the contestants, some wearing hats, capes or ribbons of some sort for their presentations, cheerfully chatting amongst themselves, some also having sheets of paper in their hands, reading as they walked, doing what the smartphone supposed was rehearsing their acts.

“Hey, Mistah Phone! I’ll turn the power on now!!” MePhone suddenly stopped on his tracks, jolting in surprise as he heard Toilet. “Wait! Toilet, Don’t!—“ Before the smartphone could properly reply, he saw the lights turn on, blinding him for a small moment before he felt a sharp pain shot through and up his arms, freezing him in place as the intense pain spread across his body, overwhelming his system, making him glitch out as a few sparks came out of where his hands were placed against the speaker, barely able to tell much of what was going on as the intense electricity spread throughout his body.

“AAahH! A-A-a-A-AaAH!—” Mephone screamed out in pain, getting cut off and drawn out as his screen flickered on and off repeatedly, his teeth jittering as he shook in place, eyes open wide in shock as static and glitches spread across his screen. “Toilet! Turn it off!! Now!!” Baseball called out, everyone watching how it all happened so quickly and suddenly with concerned and shocked expressions, not knowing what to do as the lights flickered on and off repeatedly, before turning off completely.

The small smartphone collapsed, slamming his side against the wooden floorboards, making a small crack on his screen due to the impact as his screen continued glitching and flickering, a distorted warning that he was overheating appearing in his screen as his body twitched in place due to the intense electricity shock, before his screen, alongside his system, shut down entirely, totally unresponsive now as he laid unconscious.

to be continued....

[warp6]

If you're still doing the fic asks from yesterday, 2, 4 and 13 for with beautiful reluctance!

(put a fic title + questions from this list in my inbox!)

aaah thanks for the ask!

2: What scene did you first put down?

This is such an interesting question for a longfic that was over a year in the writing. I actually went back and looked at the version history to figure this out, and it’s a good thing that I did because it turns out I was totally wrong with all my best guesses as to what it was!

I jump around a lot (within scenes, between scenes) when I write; that’s always been my writing style, since as I’m writing one portion of the story, as soon as I have an idea for a later part, I just jump ahead and write out the part I’m thinking of. (Fucking hilariously, I had to come back and finish that sentence just now because I’d jumped somewhere else in this post after writing ‘portion of the story,’).

My memory before checking the version history was that the first scene I’d written had, in fact, just been the first scene of the first chapter. According to version history, though, I wrote down the first 1.5 sentences of the first scene:

The sky is overcast and the garden is overgrown. The woman walking up the path

(unchanged from the final version, except for the substitution of ‘person’ for ‘woman’), and then jumped to writing the scene where Janeway finds the stuffed animal and its tag at the end of Chapter 3.

More broadly, I have a pretty clear memory, considering it was well over a year ago, of the first night I started writing this fic–where I was, what I was feeling, etc. Pretty much from conception of the idea, I knew the premise of the fic, what it was about, and where it was going–though not all the major details, which I fleshed out over the next year as I outlined and wrote.

When I opened the new document, I believe I first hunted down the beginning quote–from which the fic gets its name–then came up with the setting of that very first scene, which snapped together in my mind from the quote in combination with a concept from the young adult novel that is credited on AO3 at the end of the fic. Then, evidently, I jumped ahead to the stuffed animal scene when I thought of it, to go ahead and get that down. I also wrote a rudimentary list of chapters that night, since the name/setting/[important spoiler characteristic] of each chapter were key to the premise of the fic.

About a month later, I started working on the fic again, and it looks like I then laid down sections of the first three chapters all at the same time.

-

Remaining questions under the cut for mild fic spoilers (I’m avoiding spoiling anything too major even under the cut, but there’s definitely some discussion of later-in-the-fic stuff) and length!

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

Ohhh, you know exactly which one. (Despite being the cretin who wrote it, I still practically scream every time I read over the scene and reach that line. ;)

Second favorite… I think I’m going to go with this line from Chapter 15:

“But I think he’s ready to come home.”

I think I like this line so much in context because it connects to so many different threads of the story, and also because it (I think/hope) successfully feels like a resolution to them. (I literally only just now went and checked, and it turns out it’s essentially the last line of dialogue in the fic! There’s one more spoken line but it doesn’t really count–plus the epilogue–but basically, it’s the last line spoken by one person to another. I never actually realized that this line was the last real line of dialogue when I was writing or editing, maybe because there is a full scene after it and an epilogue after that. In other words, I wasn’t thinking of this line in that light when I wrote it–which makes it interesting to me that it was the first potential second-favorite line I thought of, several weeks later, even though I’d never noticed its significance as Last Line of Dialogue while I was writing).

Elements of the fic that this line connects to, off the top of my head, sans spoilers: It’s a line about him (and all the moments that connects to, throughout the fic and at the beginning especially). It echoes the most famous line from the show itself, “Set a course…for home;” this fic was definitely a love letter to Star Trek: Voyager (and said line even makes an appearance in Chapter 10.) It also echoes Janeway’s end-of-Chapter 13 realization about she would have wanted ***** to do (which, in that moment, both really is and really isn’t about *****). And finally, it concludes the conversation Janeway has just had with ***** in Chapter 15, metaphorically being a final affirmation (with “he” in this sense being a stand-in for *****) of *****’s right to feel safe, not worry about protecting *******, and know the whole ordeal was over.

But despite all this, the line itself is just a lowkey end to the conversation, not any kind of emotional bomb. At least to me, it (hopefully) feels sort of gently satisfying, the end of the emotional catharsis I was trying to bring about in the final chapters (and which I sure as heck went through at least as the writer, lololol). In addition to all those direct connections to story elements, I feel like the line just has a nice all-around vibe of “Hey, you know what? This whole angsty story? That you took the time to read, and the characters went through in-universe? It’s over. The End. :)” It just feels very softly, peacefully conclusion-y, somehow.

13: What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn’t listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading?

THANK YOU FOR ASKING THIS QUESTION SO I CAN TALK ABOUT MUSIC! Musical inspiration was so important to me when I was writing this fic. :D

First of all, I’m just gonna copy what I have in the fic endnotes:

* By the power vested in me, the official theme song of this fic is Dance to Another Tune by First Aid Kit.

* I also listened to this specific piano cover of the Lullaby from Pan’s Labyrinth when I was writing the garden scenes…which, as luck would have it, is only present on the Internet as the first song in this Ancillary Justice fanmix. (You don’t have to have an an account to listen, and it shouldn’t show you an ad when you listen for the first time). (This is a similar but slower version on Youtube.)

So those are the most important songs that helped me–I don’t always listen to music before I write, but for this fic I made a real point of listening to that Lullaby cover to help me capture the particular feel of the garden/observatory scene.

ALSO! :D I was considering making a playlist for the fic, which I didn’t really get around to doing since (judging by commenters/lack thereof) readership dropped off pretty sharply as the fic got longer, so I just didn’t think that many people would be into it, and I was also pretty tired from all the work I’d poured into the fic itself and ready to go focus on other things. But I would still enjoy doing it for myself–and I know that, of the people who did read the fic, there are a couple of major music lovers–so I might still get around to it some time!

Songs slated to be included are The Grey by Icon for Hire (ironically, the song is more relevant for the chapter called “The Theatre” than the chapter called “The Grey”–and furthermore, now that I think about it, Icon for Hire itself also has a song called Theatre that isn’t at all relevant to this fic, LOL), Navigate by Band of Skulls, maybe Never Let Me Go by Florence and the Machine, and maybe a few of my general Janeway/Voyager favorites that happen to be relevant to this fic: Falling by HAIM–relevant to the earlier chapters (“Never look back and never give up, and if it gets rough it’s time to get rough”)–and We Are All Made of Stars by Moby for the epilogue.

[aeesuchoi]

a/n: so many people are requesting for jun! he’s a total joy to write. the ending might seem a bit ambiguous, but there’s enough romance to pass around! \o/

and anon, you wouldn’t believe how many ideas i had for this prompt! it’s definitely something i’ll pick up again in the future; i’ve even started making plans to turn this into a full, multi-chaptered slow burn fic, so you can think of this as a teaser for a later work!

(it might take a while though, because i want to finish the yuchan fic i have first before jumping into a new project. but aaah, the outline is making me excited!)

i hope you like it!

pairing: park junhee x reader genre: drama, fluff summary: he confesses over late night dinner. word count: 1544

i’m open for requests!

After an exhausting day at work, all you wanted to do was go home and sleep. At times like these, you really wished teleportation was real; your feet were too tired to move by themselves, and every step felt like you were trudging through mud.

Somehow, one way or another, you made it back to the comfort of your own couch. You kicked off your shoes, wiggling your toes as you laid back into the cushions. The relief was instantaneous.

“Haaah,” you sighed. “What would I give to have a nice cool bath…”

Massaging your legs, you decided to start running the water as soon as the knots in your muscles disappeared.

Alas, fate was not so kind.

You heard a soft beep from withing your bag and groaned, stretching over to fish out your phone. Maybe it was spam. You hoped it was. You didn’t want to deal with anyone right now.

Scanning the ID, you almost dropped your phone in surprise. Your frown faded away.

On the lockscreen was the name ‘Park Ocean’.

“Jun?” you said. You hadn’t heard from him in a while. Exhaustion forgotten, a slow smile crept up on your lips as you checked what he said.

‘I’m free next Sunday afternoon.’

You typed out a response. ‘And I’m disappointed it took my best friend four days to answer my question, but I’ll live.’

He replied soon after. He was probably on a break. ‘Sorry. My schedule was tentative until now.’

‘Kkk, I was joking. I understand. I’m not free on Sunday though.’

‘The only other time I’m not busy is now. Can I come crash?’

Now? You looked at the time. It was seven forty-five. ‘You don’t have an early day tomorrow?’

‘I can hang around for a bit. I haven’t seen you in a while and I miss you.’

“Smooth talker,” you muttered. But you knew you were blushing. ‘Ya, missed you too.’

‘So I’ll see you in half an hour?’

‘I guess I could postpone my bath for you…’

‘Thanks. See you soon.’

Sending an ‘OK!’ sticker, you placed your phone face down on the table. Then you let out a loud sigh before shaking your head.

“He makes me feel like a kid,” you breathed out.

Staring at your phone, you willed your heart not to speed up. But Jun was always good at giving you butterflies. Even in pre-debut days, when he talked about his dreams and you promised to support him for as long as he wanted you to.

With nerves in your veins, you still yawned. You couldn’t deny how tired you were. Maybe if you closed your eyes for a few minutes…

As you settled back into the couch, you let your thoughts drift over to your best friend.

He was a nice idea to dream about.

The smell of food wasn’t what you expected to wake up to.

Wait.

Food?

Sitting straight, you blinked at the blanket laid over your lap. That wasn’t there before. It took you a moment to realize what was happening.

“Hey.” Opposite from you was Jun, eating with one of your plates. He was practically done, picking up the last bits of rice with his chopsticks. “I’m guessing you had a long day today?”

He nods at your work outfit, wrinkled in your sleep. You flushed. “Oh. Sorry. I probably look terrible right now.”

“You don’t, trust me.” That made you happy. “Did you eat yet?”

You shook your head. Then you paused. “Wait a moment. I swear I locked the door when I came home. How did you get in?”

He shrugged. “Your spare key? In one of the flowerpots?”

“But I--” You told him that fact ages ago, back when you first got your apartment. He never had to use the spare--you were always ready to receive him when he came over. He remembered that?

“You’re too good to me,” you muttered.

“Hm?”

“Nothing. Just talking to myself. How long have you been sitting there for?”

“Not long,” he replied. Discreetly, you glanced at the wall clock. It was a bit past nine. But you didn’t call him out on it.

He pushed a styrofoam cup towards you. Popping open the cover, appreciation spread through your chest. It was soup, and he got you your favourite toppings. “So you watched me sleep instead?” you said. “That’s cute.”

“To be fair, you’re the only thing worth watching around here.”

You sipped the cup in distraction, making sure your voice was even. “Careful there, Junnie. You’re veering into creepy territory.”

He blinked. “It’s an honest confession.”

“Right. And I’m glad I’m not the one who has to manage damage control because of your flirting…”

You hid a frown. Even you had to admit his group’s rising popularity. You kept up with their news, you knew how people were starting to notice their talents. You wouldn’t be surprised if Junhee was already stringing hearts along--yours included.

It made you jealous, the thought of other people fawning for his attention, of his already divided attention further splitting into separate priorities, of you being in a different category as his...significant other.

But you smothered them with a shake of your head. 

He mumbled something under his breath.

You blinked. “Sorry, what was that?”

“Nothing. I was talking to myself.” He shot you a look, pensive. “Like you were, earlier.”

“Oh, are we playing this game?” Putting the soup aside, you crossed your arms. “Fine then. I’m in. Start sharing.”

“You start,” he offered.

You made a face. “And to your left you will see Park Junhee, a gentleman.”

He laughed.

You sighed. “To be honest, I’m a bit sad that you don’t have as much time for me as you did before.” You shrugged, staring at the table. “But I get it. You’re busy. I’m just glad you remember me sometimes, is all.”

“How could I ever forget you?” It was a whisper, half baffled and half gentle. “I think about you every day.”

You raised your head. He was smiling softly. “You do?”

“[Y/N],” he said, “you can’t be damage control if all you do is make it worse.”

…Oh.

Oh.

“Oh,” you breathed out.

“I’ve liked you for a while now,” he confessed, and it was like the wind got knocked out of your lungs. “Ever since I realized why it hurt to think of you.” He gulped. “That’s why I pushed to see you today, actually, because I don’t know how long it’ll be before our schedules coincide again. All I do know is that I’d go crazy if I didn’t see you soon.”

The two of you stared at each other, neither saying a word. Then he cringed. “Sorry, I made this all awkward. I’ll see myself out.”

As he stood up, you snapped out of your reverie and scrambled after him, grabbing his hand. “Hey, I still have one more confession to make.”

“You don’t have to force yourself--”

“I like you too.”

He froze.

“So, um, yeah.” You released his hand. “You didn’t make it awkward.” The silence was a bit discomforting though. “And you can stay for a while longer, if you’d like.”

The last thing you expected was a hug. But when his arms wrapped around your back, you relaxed and did the same. You stood there, rocking back and forth, and you wouldn’t have minded if the world ended right then and there.

“As much as I’d love to,” he said, “I have to get back to the dorms.”

“Okay.” But neither of you were letting go.

“I’ll come back. As soon as I get free time, we can talk. Properly.”

“Properly,” you promised.

“Will you miss me?” he asked.

“I always do.” You could feel him smile into your skin. “But I’ve been waiting for you forever. A bit more won’t hurt.”

[hisazuki]

Yona ch.152 spoilers

Akatsuki no Yona chapter 152 “But this is not the only thing I treasure” summary

Please don’t repost/reuse my scans and translations without permission. Tumblr reblog is fine.

Even if the dragons are better, they still can’t move their arms so Yona, Yoon and Hak have to feed them. Jae-Ha is a bit embarrassed about being nursed at his age. Shin-Ah notices something’s up with Hak and asks him if he doesn’t feel well. Hak’s like “what do you mean?” then tells Yoon he has something to do and would like to leave the camp for a while tomorrow to meet with someone. Yoon says it’s fine, but then he remembers Yona told him she’d like to take a bath tomorrow so he would like Hak to stay while she’s away to help the dragons. Yona tells them not to mind her and Hak should go if he wants to go. Hak looks at her and says he’ll stay until she’s done bathing.

The following day, Yona undresses and washes into a pond, thinking she must hurry because she doesn’t want to make Hak wait for her. She also noticed he looked sad and although she doesn’t know why, she’s convinced it’s somehow her fault for letting it happen. She’ll try hard not to be a burden to him.

She comes back still dripping wet to Zeno and Hak and both are worried for her. Hak puts her cloak on her head so she won’t catch a cold (I think he tries to dry her hair too?). She says she’ll be fine and he should go. Yona wonders why he looked so stiff while he was talking to her, where he wants to go and whom he’ll meet, but she’s scared to ask because she wants to be nice to him and she wants him to smile. Hak leaves after telling the HHB to light a firework if something happens.

Yoon wonders where Hak went. Kija thinks he went to see the Wind tribe. Jae-Ha tells Yona to come sit close to the fire because it’s warm and Yoon brings her yuzu tea. Sharp Jae-Ha is sharp: he asks her if something happened with Hak. She denies it, but he sees through her lies. Both were looking gloomy after all. She says she didn’t know what to do. Hak has a fiancee. They’re all o_O what kind of bomb did you just drop on us?!

Kija asks her if it’s true. Yona says she overheard the Wind tribe talking about it, and it was Mundok who decided it apparently. Meanwhile, Zeno and Shin-Ah are asleep (?) and Jae-Ha tells them to wake up because it is important news. Yona explains about the Wind tribe waiting for his return, her advising him to go back to Fuuga for a while to see them, and how he reacted (”Am I unneeded?”). So she told him about wanting to give him back his freedom when the time is right... and her audience is left gasping: Yoon says that sounds exactly like she’s saying he’s not needed, like he’s lost his place among their group. Yona is shaken and realizes her mistake...

Author notes: The track “Take care part 2″ from the new drama CD has the same content as the extra chapter at the end of the newly released volume 25.

Yona regrets not being able to express herself in a better way. She ended up hurting Hak instead. Kija thinks there’s no need to say it in a better way. As long as she’s able to communicate what she truly feels, Hak will understand (Kija is blushing as he says that!). Jae-Ha tries to reassure her: maybe that fiancee thing was a misunderstanding and she should ask Hak about it. Yona says she’s afraid to ask.

Jae-Ha: Afraid? Why? Would it bother you if Hak had a fiancee?

Yona: If I had to say whether it bothers me or not, it’d bother me a lot.

Jae-Ha: Hahaha! I thought so. Then you should tell him that, too.

Yona: I can’t!

Jae-Ha: You can’t?

Yona: Because... maybe he's meeting with Ayame-san right now.

Yona goes on about the “talk” he’d said they’d have but didn’t, and wonders if he’s mad at her. Jae-Ha says if she’s not honest with Hak, he might misunderstand and go off somewhere (he’s telling her that’s pretty much what happened). “Are you still fine with that?” he asks, smiling just like Zeno is.

Yona strongly shakes her head. *She knows he barely just left, but she wants to see Hak already.* Jae-Ha & Kija smile, then Shin-Ah spots Hak coming back (what a coincidence!!! ahem). Apparently he went to buy food and weapons from traveling merchants he knew would come here around this time of the year.

Yona immediately apologizes for what she told him the day before. For using the wrong words and hurting him (she’s half-crying). She tells him about overhearing his conversation with the Wind tribe, and how she’s always felt like she stole him from them. She also mentions her fiancee and stumbles for words again. Hak’s like “Fiancee? Oh, you mean Ayame!” and Yoon & Jae-Ha are surprised he doesn’t deny it. Hak understands... so that’s why she told him to go back and spoke about his freedom.

Yona: *I must tell him!* Yes, but...

Yona: It doesn’t mean you’re unneeded or anything. You’re dear to me, Hak, so... So...

Yona: *I must tell him!*

Yona: Please stay with me...

Hak is surprised, then gets angry: “Didn’t I tell you already? I won’t leave you! It’s obvious!”. He wants her to understand he’s not doing this out of obligation. He treasures the Wind tribe and would go and save them if anything happened to them, but the place he wants to go back to is here (with them / meaning they’re his home). The HHB are shocked speechless with tears in their eyes. Like Yoon thought, Hak felt like an outsider when Yona told him to go back to Fuuga. Yona starts to apologize, but Hak tells her she doesn’t need to. He just wanted her to know that. After that, he insists that he’s not obeying/following her because of her father’s orders. It’s true he swore absolute obedience to King Il, his master, but even if she thinks she might not compare to him, she’s the one he decided to live for after following her and witnessing her strength and passion. She’s the one who taught him the pride of serving someone.

At this point they’re all crying except Hak. Zeno is giving out tissues to wipe their tears :P Yona wants to ask Hak one last thing: what will he do about Ayame if he’s not going back to Fuuga?

Hak: ...Look... I’ll tell you this because I don’t like misunderstandings... This fiancee thing is something gramps went and decided on his own.

Yona: Then isn’t it an absolute order...?

Hak: Ayame has a lover!

Yona: Huh? Wait, then you got reject-

Hak: I’m telling you you’re the one I like!!!

*Yona & HHB* o_O

Yona: ...Eh?

Hak: Don’t “eh” me! Ayame’s dating someone and I love you so that fiancee thing is bullshit, that’s what!

Hak: I’m tired out for the day! Did you get it or not?!

Red-faced Yona: ...Yes.

Hak: Alright. Aaah... I feel better now.

Hisa’s thoughts on the chapter:

Ahaha the chapter most of us waited for! But I think this time the real stars are the HHB, especially Jae-Ha and Kija. They all knew what was going on, and decided to help their dorky friends even if it might have cost them something (I’m not sure how Kija is handling all this, that’s one thing to be supportive of someone, but something else to sort out one’s own feelings).

Anyway, we knew from previous chapters Hak had a lot on his mind: Soo-Won, the Wind tribe, having to rely on others to help the DDHHB, the talk he wanted to have with Yona, his feelings for her... All this time we’ve seen him hide his emotions but also let them slip past his control like the time he went berserk against Soo-Won. So it’s only fair that he’d explode once again :D

What I wonder is how scripted this was. In the end this confession didn’t need much to happen: Yona, Hak & the Wind tribe all together in the same place. This didn’t specifically need to occur in Shin either, nor required recent or new characters, so did Kusanagi plan this from the start and used it when it was deemed right, or did she just make it up now because she felt the story needed it? Having old characters like Ayame and Min-Soo reappear after so long feel unnatural to me and I really hope they’ll be more fleshed out than that in the future. I’ll be sad if Ayame stays “the fake love interest who didn’t last half a chapter” and Min-Soo is remembered only as “the boy who lived” XD

Now for the next chapter, as it opens volume 27 I’m not sure we’ll get a true conclusion to that love confession. Part of me wants to believe the HHB will force a reply out of Yona, and part of me fears we might see a bit more of Yona’s inner turmoil until they’re all suddenly caught up in a new arc.

This will be my last summary :-( From now on I’ll only comment the chapters whenever I read them. I’ll post links to blogs and websites that have spoilers in a separate list soon.

[renegadewangs]

Because people seemed excited for this fanfic thing I’m (slowly) writing, I shall give you a preview of the first chapter! Mind, there’s spoilers for DGS2 (Dai Gyakuten Saiban 2) right there, so click the Read More only if you’re willing to accept them.

---------

Yuujin raised his hand and a long moment of hesitation preluded the act of knocking. He had been told by one of the science professors to find a Mr. Sherlock Holmes in the laboratories, yet at the same time he had been warned. He would come face to face with someone 'overbearing' and 'peculiar'. The tone used had made the young man sound rather like a criminal, but then, surely St. Bartholomew's would dismiss him if indeed he were dangerous. Holmes was a student involved in difficult research- or so Yuujin had been told. His knuckles rapped against the wood, though no response came. He waited fifteen seconds, which he found to be a very polite and suitable amount of time, then tried again. Still nothing. Even so, he could hear a thumping coming from inside the room that implied someone was hard at work. “Excuse me! I'm coming in,” Yuujin called. Despite his firm grasp of English words and grammar, his voice was thick with accent and he'd wondered more than once whether it deterred people from speaking to him. At times, he found it deterring himself from conversation. This was no time to back down, though. At first glance, there was no one; only a cluttered laboratory. Then, out of seemingly nowhere, a man slid right into Yuujin's field of vision and personal space. He must not even have been twenty years old yet. A mop of messy, frizzed hair acted as something of a curtain to keen, dark blue eyes. His lab coat was being defiled by several stains and holes, particularly along the bottom of the sleeves. The shock of it all had Yuujin step back, only for his wrist to be grasped and tugged at. The man's fingertips were all covered in bandages, he noticed vaguely. “Hello hellooo,” cried the student, pulling Yuujin into the room and snapping the door shut behind him. “Right on time, my dear fellow! Not a moment too late, nor too soon! Come, come, you must sit! Here!” A chair was whirled around and Yuujin was guided into it before he could think to make a counter move. His wrist was still being held, even as Holmes turned to snatch up an instrument from a nearby tabletop. “Ah, excuse me, I believe there may be a misunderst-” “Hush now, hush! Let me see!” Holmes held up Yuujin's hand, examining the fingers for a reason that was beyond grasping. “Splendid! Good circulation, this will do nicely. You are right-handed, I see, so we'll go for the left. Don't worry, you'll barely feel a thing!” “I beg your pard- Aaah!” Yuujin made an immediate attempt to pull his hand back, as now that he'd been pricked in the finger by a sharp needle, he was willing to forego any further politeness. Unfortunately, Holmes's grip proved stronger than his own. “Now now, hold on. Just let me- We mustn't waste it!” Yuujin's aching finger was squeezed and a drop of blood was sucked into a pipette. Following that, Holmes' hand finally released him, allowing him to sit back. Frustration clashed with curiosity and in the end Yuujin opted to watch. Holmes hurried to move the blood into a beaker of water. “One small drop diluted into a liter... The resulting mixture has the appearance of pure water, do you see? The proportion of blood cannot be more than one in a million. I have no doubt, however, that we shall be able to obtain the characteristic reaction I'm searching for. If I just...” Holmes scattered a fine white powder into the mixture, then added a few drops of transparent fluid. His eyes focused on the beaker and Yuujin found himself doing the same. Five seconds passed, then ten... The silence was broken by a cry of dismay. “Failed again! What sort of useless chemist am I if I cannot even master this one simple principle?! A reagent that precipitates only through hemoglobin, indeed! What a work of fiction! Holmes stomped away from the beaker and slumped down in the chair across from Yuujin, looking utterly defeated. It was rather reminiscent of a limp rag doll. His head hung backwards so far that it seemed as if he might lose his balance and topple over, chair and all. “Excuse me,” Yuujin tried again, hoping the man would be more willing to listen now that his experiment was concluded. “Are you Mr. Sherlock Holmes?” “Guhhh... I may as well be no one,” was the dreary, lackluster response. How one man could go from loud and excitable to such gloom was beyond Yuujin. “Ah, my name is Yuujin Mikotoba. I am an exchange student, you see, in search of shared lodgings. Your science professor told me that you are in need of a housemate so that you may... Ah, what's the words I'm looking for... Halve your rent.” “He said that...?” Holmes drew a deep breath, then rolled his head sideways to peer at Yuujin with one visible eye. “Well, he's wrong. I cannot help you.” Yuujin's hands curled in his lap, whilst his toes attempted to curl inside his shoes. Even so, a gentleman never lost his cool, or so he believed. “I understand that it may be difficult to share quarters with a foreigner. However, I assure you, I am an honest, hard-working man.” “Huhhh... No one was doubting your integrity, Mr. Mikatobo.” “It's Miko-” Holmes waved a lazy hand. “Whether you're from England or from Russia, or even the depths of hell itself, it matters very little to me. I am not a 'housemate' person, you see. I require my space and solitude. My mind rebels in the face of disturbances.” “Are you certain you can afford the rent by yourself?” Yuujin asked. “It's true, I am but one man. However, that does not mean I have only one income. I have several jobs.” “Several? At the same time?” “It's called part-timing, Mr. Mikoboto. A new concept. I am a professional chemist, a musician, an inventor and so much more. … I was even a beekeeper for some time. A shame, what happened. Perhaps one day, I will acquire new bees.” Yuujin's eyes narrowed into a squint. His first thought was that Englishmen were funny folk, only to remember that Holmes was the odd one out even among his own people. “This allows you to pay the bills? Your professor gave the impression that you are, ah, struggling.” “It will work out. And if it doesn't... Well, I suppose the gutter is where a failure such as myself belongs. ...Good day, Mr. Mitakaba.” Yuujin lost the will to correct this man, along with the will to persuade him. Such pigheadedness was best left to its own devices, he felt. “Well, then. Good day, Mr. Holmes.” He bowed his head and got to his feet. Still, as he turned towards the door, his eye fell on the beaker and the notes scattered beside it. The water was as crystal clear as before. “... Pardon me for saying so, but this experiment seems a bit redundant. I believe the Guiacum test is already an indicator of hemoglobin,” he found himself pointing out. “No, no! That test is clumsy and uncertain. Presumptive, even. One might as well flip a coin,” Holmes grumbled from his chair. Once he was certain that the young student was too downcast to stop him, Yuujin reached for papers. His pricked finger throbbed painfully, though it was but an idle distraction. He skimmed the papers without further ado. From what he could tell, the theory Holmes had been following was sound. Surely, the hemoglobin should've oxidized to metheglobin, but then... “Did you remember to add potassium cyanide to your little concoction?” Holmes sat up straight in a very slow, eerie manner. Then, out of nowhere, he sprang to his feet, his earlier excitement renewed. “Potassium cyanide! That's it! Yes!” Yuujin was all but shoved out of the way as Holmes began to bustle about the lab, searching all the cabinets until at last he pulled out a small bottle. All it took was a single drop for the water to turn a dull brown, with precipitate settling in the bottom of the beaker. “Eureka!” Holmes exclaimed, slapping a hand on Yuujin's shoulder. “I knew I could do it! The Sherlock Holmes test is complete! My good man, what would I have done without you? Wherever did you come by your chemistry knowledge?” “Ah, it is not so much chemistry as biology. I am a doctor and a forensics student, you see.” “Forensics! Brilliant! This is the future of criminal investigations! Some would argue otherwise, but I would fight back twice as hard! Gathering knowledge from other countries through exchanges should definitely be encouraged. You are from Afghanistan, yes?” “Ah, no. I came from Japan,” Yuujin pointed out, somewhat surprised by the assumption. If he'd been mistaken for Chinese, he would have understood. “But then, surely, you were in Afghanistan for some time!” Holmes insisted. “I've never been there. In fact, I have never gone abroad before accepting this project” “Did your ship make port in Afghanistan, then?” “Mr. Holmes, please. It feels as if you are getting led astray.”

[anwenwrites]

My Own Best Friend—Chapter 2: The Happy Couple

MIKHA POV

“Mom still has your car,” my dad says to me in Indonesian as we are cleaning up his office to close ORP for the night. “Her conference is taking longer than she thought. Do you want me to give you a ride to the restaurant, or do you want to ride with your friends?” 

“Can you take me?” I ask. I need a break from my friends anyway, but I didn’t want to be rude and say no to going out altogether. 

“Of course. Let me just lock the gate and we’ll be on our way. Don’t want to keep your friends waiting!”

“No rush, Dad. I think they can wait a little bit.”

My dad frowns. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I blurt, not meeting his eyes.

My dad crosses the room in an instant and gives me a hug. “I know this is really hard for you. We all have our first loves, and they almost never last. It’s sad, but it’s the truth. Even your old man here had a first love. When she left, I was really sad. But then I met your mom.” 

I can’t help but grin at that. My dad always knows what to say. 

As soon as he leaves, though, I feel the weight of the day come crashing down. I press my fingers to my temples as if forcing the tears back in. The last time I had closed down ORP with my dad, Arif had come to surprise me. He’d bought me a necklace he’d gotten really cheap, with stones in the shape of a turtle. It was his favorite animal. 

I used to wear that necklace with pride, to show the world I loved and was loved. Now I just hold it to my chest every night and cry. Still in love but no longer loved.

When my dad still hasn’t come back several minutes later, I decide to head out to find him. I’ve barely made it to the doorway, though, when I see a huge stack of papers lurching towards me. I hop out of the way, but not in time to avoid the collision.

“Um, Encik Rinaldi, what do I do with the—AAAH!” The papers slam into me and fly everywhere, revealing a guy about my age. He is tall and skinny, and clearly not very happy with me. 

“What a mess!” he exclaims, frowning at me as though he’s scolding me. 

I narrow my eyes at him. “Don’t look at me! This mess is all your fault.”

“I’d say it’s an even fifty-fifty,” he replies, bending over and starting to gather the papers. I glare at him, but he doesn’t even notice. That is, until he looks up at me with that condescending frown again. “Aren’t you going to help?”

“Aren’t you going to use your manners?” I snap. “Or do you not have any?” 

The guy gathers the rest of the papers into a messy stack and straightens himself out. “I like to think I do,” he says, “but when and where I use them is up to me.”

“Maybe it would benefit you to use them with the boss’s daughter,” I glower. “If you care about your job, that is.” 

“Oh! Mikha! Salaam. I’m Kamal, your dad’s new secretary.” He looks at me expectantly. What do you WANT?

“Aren’t we going to shake hands?” he asks. 

I reluctantly hold my hand out to him. When we shake, he places his free hand over his chest and gives me a small nod. 

“How did you know my name?” I demand. 

“Your dad talks about you all the time,” says Kamal. 

Great. As if I needed this jerk with no filter to know all about me. 

“Kamal! Didn’t know you were still here.” My dad appears in the doorway. Thank God. 

“Oh, yes; Mikha and I were just getting better acquainted.” I shoot him a death glare, hoping he notices. 

“Well, that’s great.” My dad turns to me. “Sorry about the wait, kiddo. That unruly Surya somehow got over the gate, and I had to lure him back into the forest. You ready to go now?”

“Yes!” I exclaim, now suddenly much more eager to leave. Anything to get away from Kamal.

“All right,” my dad chuckles. “Don’t let me keep you any longer then.”

   *******

“Just text me if you need a ride home,” my dad calls after me as he drops me off at the restaurant. 

“I will, thanks!” I sling my purse over my shoulder and pull the big wooden door open. I haven’t been here since I was a little kid. 

I scan the restaurant for my friends until I spot them in a booth in the corner. Nadya, Duncan, and Natasha sit on one side, and Rasi, Eric, and Sukarno on the other. Duncan and Nadya are sitting side by side, talking and laughing. A disgruntled-looking Sukarno sits across from Duncan, obviously trying to tell him something. Duncan has his arm around Nadya’s waist, and she is resting her head happily on his shoulder. 

At this sight I almost turn around and leave. That should be me there, me and Arif. Or at least someone who cares, which Arif obviously only pretended to. 

I make my way over to the booth. Not wanting to have to look at the happy couple all evening, I sit down next to Natasha. 

“Mikha!” she flashes me her perfectly straight, white smile. “It’s been forever. How are you?”

“Oh, you know. Just great! Congratulations on your therapist’s license.”

“Thank you! I’m really happy the hard work is finally paying off.” 

Across the table, I can see Rasi frowning at me. I raise my eyebrows at him. “What?”

Rasi leans across the table towards his sister. “Natasha, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but last week Mikha—”

“—put in some extra hours at work! That’s why I was running late. I almost fell asleep in my dad’s office!” I finish, wishing Rasi wouldn’t share my personal business.

“Is everything okay?” Natasha asks. 

“Yes, I’m fine, just tired,” I insist. I can tell she isn’t convinced.

The whole table falls silent. I glance around at my friends, who are all looking at me with concerned eyes.

“Um, so what else is new in everyone’s life?” I ask, trying to smooth over the awkwardness.

“Well,” begins Nadya. She smiles up at Duncan with shining eyes, and Duncan kisses her forehead. “Duncan and I are thinking about getting back together. Like officially.” 

“Oh my God, YESSS!” Rasi all but squeals. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long!”

The rest of our friends begin to applaud. I force my hands together and plaster a smile on my face.

“What made you decide to get back together after two years?” asks Eric. 

“Well,” begins Duncan, “Nadya and I have been spending more time together than ever. And we think we’re finally ready.”

“When you know, you know,” says Natasha, smiling at the happy couple. 

The waiter comes to take our order. After he leaves, Rasi and Eric fill us in on their latest misadventures, including Rasi accidentally live streaming Eric singing in the shower on his Instagram. Natasha tells us about how she got stuck in traffic and almost didn’t make it to her own house closing yesterday. And Sukarno tells us as much as his job allows about his latest case at work. As he is droning on about the suspicious disappearance of a woman’s belongings after a messy divorce, I excuse myself to go to the bathroom. But as soon as I’m sure no one is watching, I slip out the door instead and call my dad to come take me home. 

*****

Later that night, I am watching random makeup tutorials when my phone buzzes. It’s Nadya. I snatch my phone off my bed and pick up.

“What’s up, Nadya?” I ask in Indonesian.

“I’m just checking in,” she says. “You left dinner and didn’t come back. Everyone was worried.” 

“I’m okay, Nadya. Just tired. I haven’t been sleeping well.” It’s true, but I can’t possibly say I’m incredibly jealous of your loving relationship and I can’t stand to hear you talk about it as your lover smiles and cuddles you. 

I am especially glad I held my tongue when she says, “I have to say, I was a bit disappointed that you left. I have a problem with my dad that I mentioned to the group, and I was really hoping for your input.”

“I didn’t know you were going to talk about that,” I say, fighting to keep the defensiveness out of my voice. “You can tell me now.”

Nadya sighs on the other end. “It didn’t go over too well when I told my dad that I was considering dating Duncan. He said that he was suspicious all along from the moment I introduced Duncan to him as a friend. Said he always knew there was more going on. Then he called me a liar.”

“Gosh, Nadya, I’m sorry,” I say, disturbed that Budi would treat her like this. Since he’d lost his wife, I had always known it would be difficult for him when Nadya found a boyfriend and spent less time at home, but I’d never known him to be mean.

Nadya asks, “What do you think I should do?” 

“Why are you asking me?” I say. “Clearly, I’m not good at relationships, given my current single status.”

Nadya sighs again. “Can you focus on my situation for a moment, please?”

“Fine,” I say. “I don’t know. I think you just need to keep trying. Repeat yourself and stand up for yourself. Broken record, you know?”

“That’s what everyone else said,” replies Nadya. “But I feel like my dad just won’t listen.”

“He’s got to eventually,” I say. “You’re twenty-two years old. You’re entitled to have a life.”

“What do you think your dad would do if you wanted to marry a non-Muslim?” Nadya asks.

“He’d be fine with it,” I say. “Remember Nate? He was from America.” I cringe at the memory of my former co-worker standing me up. I haven’t heard from him for over a year now. 

“Well, I don’t have it so easy,” says Nadya wistfully. “I hope I don’t end up having to choose between Duncan and my dad.”

“Me too,” I say. “If it came to that, what do you think you’d do?”

“I don’t know. Move out maybe.”

“We could rent an apartment together!” I say. 

“That’s a good idea!” Nadya cries. I can imagine her face lighting up right along with her voice. “We could split the rent. Some of my old school friends know a few good places.”

“Why don’t you come over tomorrow and we’ll look at apartments together?” I suggest. 

“Perfect! My dad is working overtime tomorrow, so I don’t have to be home until late.”

“Okay. I can bring you home once we’re done too.”

“Mikha! Dad and I are going to bed!” my mom’s voice calls from the hallway.

“Goodnight!” I holler back. Then I say into the phone to Nadya, “I have to go. My parents are going to sleep.”

“Oh, okay, goodnight, Mikha! See you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight,” I reply, then hang up. 

As soon as I hang up I hear a tap on my door. My ten-year-old brother Angga pokes his head in.

“Think they’re asleep yet?” he asks in his loud whisper that actually isn’t much quieter than regular talking.

“I doubt it,” I say. “You know how long Dad takes to brush his teeth.”

“Mikha, are you really going to be moving out soon?” my little brother looks at me with big, sad eyes.

I frown. “Angga, you know it’s rude to eavesdrop on someone’s conversation. But yes, it’s possible.”

“Why?”

“I think it’s almost time for me to move out. And it’s definitely time for Nadya to move out.”

“Why is it time for her to move out?”

I poke my brother in the ribs. “You always want to know why,” I tease. “It’s complicated. Not really something ten-year-olds should have to worry about.” Or anyone of any age for that matter. 

“Aw!” Angga complains. 

I sigh. “I just hope Nadya doesn’t bring Duncan over to the apartment.”

Angga looks at me, confused. “But I thought Duncan was your friend.” “He is,” I say. “But Angga, do you remember your friend Rizka? And how you felt when she told you to stop following her around at school?”

“Yeah,” Angga looks down at the floor. “It made me sad.”

“Well, that’s how I’ve been feeling since Arif and I broke up. And seeing Duncan and Nadya together is just really hard for me right now.”

“I don’t understand,” replies Angga. “Shouldn’t you be happy for them?”

Damn. Kids can be brutal. “I think it’s bedtime for ten-year-olds now,” I say, ushering him out the door.

“Nooooo!” protests Angga. “But I’m big now!”

“I know you are,” I say, “but you need your sleep so you can grow even bigger.”

“As big as a skyscraper!” shouts Angga as he bounds down the hall to his room. I hear my dad cough from inside his and my mom’s room.

I smile and shake my head. If one thing was certain, it was that once I moved out, I would actually be able to have uninterrupted nights of sleep once again.