#and that brings back everything that happened and marius not trying to get him back

[rainbowcarousels]

Writing Armand has the same issue/fun of writing Sephiroth in that they're so far dissociated from their own trauma and sense of identity that I rarely write them analysing their own thoughts or experiences because there's so much disconnect that they can't play connect the dots easily.

[adhdzagreus]

curtain call

The Mechanisms are uncharacteristically quiet as they walk off the stage. Even Jonny doesn’t know what to say as the remaining eight space pirates file into the dressing room of the venue they booked for their last ever show on Earth. 

The first one to break the silence is the Toy Soldier who sniffles, gasps tremulously, and then wails, “Is all that really going to happen? With the—the black holes and the bar fights and the octokittens and everything?” 

Jonny stifles a groan. This is exactly why he’d locked it out in the first place. What’s going to happen is what’s going to happen, and they all might as well accept it. 

To make matters worse, the Toy Soldier’s sniffling has set off some of the more sensitive Mechanisms. Ivy pats it on the shoulder with a forlorn look, eyes glassy with unshed tears, and Marius’ fragile expression suggests that if Ivy starts crying, he’ll follow suit. 

Tim has his arm around Ashes’ waist, as if worried they might disappear, and though his metal eyes betray no sadness, the firm set of his mouth worries Jonny more than anything else. 

“The odds of us changing the future now that it’s been written are over three hundred million to one,” Ivy says sadly. “It’s statistically impossible that we will live forever.” 

“B-b-but we have so many more songs left to sing!” the Toy Soldier weeps. “Tales to tell! Wars to wage!” 

“And we will,” Jonny says shortly. “None of us are instantly about to keel over, are we?” 

“N-no?” the Toy Soldier says. 

“Everyone seems in decent health to me,” Marius says quietly. He holds Ivy’s hand in both of his. 

“So don’t worry about it,” Jonny says. 

“That’s easy for you to say,” Marius says. “You’re not dying for another millennia. I could get eaten by octokittens tomorrow.” 

Jonny’s stomach twists, and he wrenches his mouth open to retort, but someone interrupts him. 

“No,” Raphaella says sharply. “You will not. We know for a fact that we each die alone. I’m not letting you out of my sight, and you’re certainly not going to check on the octokittens any time soon. I’m planning to have Ivy feed them when we arrive back at the ship.” 

“It’s not the same now that I know they eat Marius,” Ivy sniffles. 

Marius’s expression shatters. “Don’t hold it against them, Ivy! They’re just hungry! They can’t help it! Don’t be sad!” he pleads. 

Jonny feels sick as Ivy starts to cry harder, expounding on the hunting habits of felines, which only makes Marius more upset. He throws himself into a chair and starts taking his makeup off with a wet wipe, trying and failing to ignore them as Raphaella attempts to comfort them both. 

“You’re being awfully callous about all this,” Tim says, still with one arm around a stony-faced Ashes. Brian and the Toy Soldier have joined the fray, and Brian’s platitudes about everything coming to an end in time are almost as unhelpful as the Toy Soldier’s weeping and wailing. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jonny snaps.

“Well, you could at least pretend to be sad like the rest of us,” Tim says. “I know you’re all excited to die, but that doesn’t mean the rest of us are.” 

“God damn it, Tim,” Jonny snaps, throwing the wet wipe on the floor. “You think I’m not sad?” 

“You’re not acting like it,” Tim replies. “Marius had a point. You’ve got a run-up and a death you’re looking forward to. Ashes here could go at any time.”

“Hey, babe, don’t bring me into this,” Ashes mumbles. 

“Am I wrong?” Tim says. 

“Yeah, you fucking are wrong!” Jonny shouts. “You think I want to die alone in some backwater asteroid bar centuries after the rest of you are gone? Yeah, I’m excited to die, but that doesn’t mean I want to watch the rest of you disappear first!” 

The rest of the dressing room falls quiet, and Jonny realizes belatedly that he was shouting. Worse, he feels tears in his eyes, and he scrubs at them angrily, smearing the remains of his face paint. 

“Oh,” Gunpowder Tim says. “I guess I didn’t think about that.” 

“You choose how you go out,” Jonny says. “I have to wait until it finally decides to fucking stick. You know how many times I’ve been stabbed in the heart? I could go start a barfight on an asteroid tomorrow, but I guarantee it won’t stick.”

“All the same,” Tim says quietly. “I’d prefer you didn’t risk it.” 

“And I’d prefer you wore your fucking seatbelt, but we don’t get to choose, now do we?” Jonny says. 

Tim flinches, and Ashes frowns at Jonny who takes a deep, shuddering breath. 

“I—I mean. I don’t want you to die either,” he says. “But we have to die s-sooner or later. And I don’t want to waste whatever time we have left crying about it.” 

Despite this, tears are dripping from his eyes as he speaks, flowing faster than he can scrub them away. No one says another for a long moment, but he feels the eyes of several of his crewmates on him. 

“C’mere, you mean ol’ bastard,” Ashes says. They spread the arm not curled around Tim’s waist and gesture for him to approach. 

“What?” Jonny says, standing up and shuffling closer. 

Ashes crushes him to their chest in a one-armed hug, and Jonny breaks and grabs both Ashes and Tim as best he can. Before he can recover, he feels someone else wrap their arms around him from behind, and before he can protest, he’s at the center of a tangled mass of weeping space pirates—colloquially known as a group hug. 

It’s awkward with so much metal and wood and weapons, but Jonny can’t even pretend to be annoyed by it. He’s too focused on not breaking down into sobs. He’ll be damned if he lets his crew see him cry anymore than they already have. 

“I love you all very much,” the Toy Soldier says happily. “Best space pirate crew ever.” 

Jonny rolls his eyes and sobs silently. Hopefully, buried as he is in a mass of bodies, no one will notice. 

“Well, now that that’s been dealt with,” DrumBot Brian says, “I would like to return to the Aurora. I am concerned our parking pass has expired.” 

Jonny sighs. “Fine, but you stay away from the damn airlock.”

“Your concern is touching and noted,” says the DrumBot. 

The Mechanisms disperse and hurriedly gather up their things. Jonny lovingly coils up his microphone and tucks it safely away, and the band of space pirates begin to make their way back to the Aurora and off to destinations unknown. 

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Les Mis 5.3.4 - He Also Bears His Cross

The big thing that stands about about today’s chapter s the contrast between how Valjean treats Marius and how he feels about him. He’s risking his life - and risking an indescribably unpleasant death - to save Marius, and he treats him with the care and gentleness of beloved family:

Jean Valjean, with the gentleness of movement of a brother for his wounded brother, laid Marius upon the side bank of the sewer…Jean Valjean, removing the garments with the ends of his fingers, laid his hand upon his breast; the heart still beat. Jean Valjean tore up his shirts, bandaged the wounds as well as he could, and staunched the flowing blood; then, bending in the twlight over Marius, who was still unconscious and almost lifeless,

and then, in an abrupt and deliberate contrast:

he looked at him with an almost inexpressible hatred.

Valjean’s great virtue is the determination to do, with incredible drive, persistence, and courage, things that he overwhelmingly does not want to do. When we are doing what we would rather not, whether great or small, there is always a temptation to realize, with great relief, that in fact we cannot - that it is inpracticable, that it is too late, that obstacles beyond our control have been laid in our path and it turns out we must give up.

The first moment of Valjean utterly rejecting this impulse at every turn is when he fights his way with intelligence, creativity, and speed, through a range of obstacles holding him back from getting to the courthouse in time to turn himself in and save Champmathieu. Indeed, he begins even before he has decided to turn himself in, first ordering for a coach for the early morning almost as reflex, and then making the long and agonizing decision; and then dealing with all the problems that arise on the journey. He does not want to do it - he feels joy in a moment when he has exhausted every possibility and it seems impossible to be there on time, and he is angry when a way is found - but he does everything he can, with great urgency, to be there on time.

This journey through the sewers is the mirror of that moment - persevering through every obstacle not in order to gain something he wants, but to sacrifice all that he has. He and Cosette have been the only people of importance in each others’ lives; he cannot imagine giving her up to another without losing her; he hates the man who is taking her from him and leaving his life wholly empty. It is likely that he gives his address to Javert upon freeing him because he will have nothing to live for without Cosette, and does not care what happens to him

The moment when Jean Valjean reads the imprint of Cosette’s letter to Marius:

The he heard his soul, again become terrible, give a sullen roar in the darkness. Go, then, and take from the lion the dog which he has in his cage.

When he learns that Marius is at the barricade, and will likely die, and may be dead already, he feels joy; and then he becomes gloomy, and goes out to find and save him. That’s at the heart of Valjean: he will do heroic things while hating to do them them, because they are right.

This is why, in the musical, the song “Bring Him Home” (he’s like the son I might have known / if God had granted me a son) only works for me when I take it as Valjean trying to convince himself, trying to awake in himself some kind of love for Marius, trying to create some kind of emotional connection with the act of self-sacrifice he has already decided to take; and at the last, at least making the choice that he will die and Marius will live.

[dont-justdont]

okay so im rewatching all the parts with louis and daniel (so present time) and are the little things ive spotted (phrases or things that seem weird/like they have a deeper meaning)

- in a setting of my choosing (is it?)

- the room we shared (did they fuck? it sounds like they fucked)

- editor doesn't know where he is (that sounds like a great opportunity for later)

- wasn't sure he'd remember louis? (i feel like louis made him hallucinate something at the end of the first interview/daniel doesn't remember it all)

- louis isn't transparent with the whole emirates thing (someone else is behind it?)

- we don't hear the end of the tape (im calling sex, or louis just scared him but made him think he bit him and someone else did)

- contradictions in the story

- doesn't quite remember what happens?

- truth and reconciliation (between them? between louis and lestat?)

- he already signed an agreement (this isn't super sus or anything but we don't see it)

- daniel doesn't want to be seduced, he wants facts (he's racing ahead as louis says)

- meeting at a gay bar

- drug abuse before and after the interview (after seems more intense)

- last sunrise he saw and yet he can see the sun now with the whole technology window thing

- the vampire is bored (present tense, louis is bored right now because? that's why he's doing the tapes?)

- he cries when he talks about lestat turning him (i cant remember in the book but i know that in the movie the only time he cries is when claudia dies)

- marius' painting (it's not armand? weirdly?)

- the noise of the building (why mention it? is it covering something?)

- serving a god (kind of reminds me of the druids or the weird dude in the mountains)

- we forget, it doesn't (again, daniel doesn't fully remember, something happened in that room in 1973 and i wanna know what it is)

- the farm (i feel like they will explain it later)

- louis feeling rushed (i 100% remember lestat trying to let louis feel everything because he was rushed himself)

- daniel's fixation on sexuality (closeted?)

- i got in that coffin on my own free will

- louis describing vampires as lestat does, the whole detachment, hand in the divine plan, seeing the life in its entirety is 1000% lestat's pov on it, not louis'

- book is a warning (to humans? other vampires?)

- daniel underlining/scratching (???) something he wrote about the whole "yes sir" thing

- louis stops killing in 2000 (what happens?)

- the great conversion (i need more info on that, like what is the state of the vampire world in 2022?)

- those first years (i know it all goes to shit please dont remind me dont do that to me)

- the weird eye thing when he says the earth felt liquid (he looks? agitated? it's not the right word but the acting is there and i dont know why)

- lestat being an artist in giving death (again, lestat's words, not his)

- maintaining the thread with humanity (louis says the last human part of him dies when he turns madeleine, at least in the movie but i remember it being similar in the book)

- botched vampire

- louis has been to pariiiiis (of course we know that but i love the foreshadowing)

- nuanced vs rehearsed (which parts are true, what is he hiding)

- he talks like lestat was his soulmate (based on louis' expression im gonna guess they either get in a relationship between 1973 and 2022, or he's trying to win/bring lestat back with compliments, but if so whyyyy????)

- louis admits to lying in 73, is he lying again?

- i will continue to support my theory that daniel actually wanted to keep the tapes and take them out of the trash once louis left

- daniel calls bullshit on the whole story

- you're lingering rashid (why does he disappear)

- louis still struggles with his vampire identity

so overall... something is weird about why louis is doing the interview again and it probably has to do with lestat, something happened in the first interview and idk what but we will see it eventually, louis is an unreliable character/lying? (why?), louis uses lestat's ways of thinking and words to describe things which definitely means he's seen him since 73

anyways thank you if you made it this far i know it's really long but i thought it could be interesting

[sanctaignorantia]

Analysis, theories, spoilers and a bit of hate (maybe).

Sorry for the long text, I really can't control myself and if you start to hate me after it, well… I'm not sorry, but it's my opinion so I want to make it clear that, because it's my opinion, it's only up to me and if you agree, ok. But if you don't, just ignore it.

Let's go!

I was thinking recently about the way the series used Rashid who was an extremely small character in the book 'Blood and Gold' and then put him there as a name that Armand hides behind and then now, in the second season, we'll really get to know him. But for those who don't know, Rashid is one of Eudoxia's servants who appears in the book 'Blood and Gold' and just like Eudoxia he is extremely young ( circa 14-15 years old). Eudoxia was turned at the same age and then decided to create vampires just like her, she had them turn others because she always wanted to know what was going on in their minds. Marius ends up destroying her. Knowing this, I'm trying to conclude that perhaps the series won't use Eudoxia in the same way as the book did and therefore this part of Marius' story might not exist, or perhaps she'll arrive at a different age, in different circumstances (but I wish it didn't exist because that would automatically eliminate Zenobia and leave Avicus and Mael to live happily :D).

In short, Rashid was adapted differently, but the same. He doesn't have the same age and isn't connected to the same characters (as far as we know), but he continues to serve (this time for Armand).

Which makes me think of other possibilities.

When we think of adaptation, we automatically want the new media to be an exact copy of the original, but that doesn't always work. The story of the books "works" (or should work hahahaha) in the books and bringing it 100% faithfully to the series could be exhausting, especially when we're talking about a universe full of characters (with the vast majority of them being basically useless).

I keep coming back to this thought because I basically prefer the way the story is being told in the series to the way it is told in the books. I've read them all (except the crossover, no thanks) and now I keep creating these scenarios in my head, but let's get directly to the point.

For those of you who have read the 'Prince Lestat' trilogy, you know that the author simply decided to reboot the universe (as if this wasn't already done naturally with the inconsistencies and divergences in the books). And one of the things that made me very angry was what happened to Memnoch…

He first arrives as a demon or demonic creature who seduces Lestat and takes him on an intense and crazy journey through space and time, revealing a LOT of truth about a lot of things and for those who liked the spiritual vibe of the books, I think the book is a real treat, because it adds very much to the mythology of the universe in that respect. And we even find out a bit more about Amel. But then, when the book ends, we simply discover that Memnoch, just like any other malicious creature, has perfectly fooled Lestat (because our rockstar is very dumb). In conclusion, the book becomes a pit of useless information because you can't determine whether everything that has been revealed and contacted is really true…

Time passes and it becomes more and more something that is forgotten, until the author brings it back in the final trilogy, putting it into the mouths of the Replimoids (creatures and characters that nobody asked for) who end up saying, but without being very sure, because nobody in this universe is sure of anything, that perhaps Memnoch was Maxym, a Replimoid from the "Amel Era" in Atalantaya!

And don't worry, because the narrative about it gets so exhausting and big that you can't fix it in your mind, here's the quote:

As the author likes to do, you finish the trilogy and Memnoch has been forgotten again. This Replimoid shit to turn Amel into an innocent, lost and misunderstood child becomes so great that fuck the devil spirit.

Which, returning to the question of adaptation, makes me wonder what they could bring to the series. They bought all the books, right? That included the fucking Replimoid thing, I'm so sorry…

But then… The Replimoids have been on Earth for 12 thousand years… Much longer than any vampire soul, they are immortal, do not age and reproduce in an extremely uncontrolled way… If you have read the final books you know that a Replimoid is a great opponent for a vampire and they are so poorly used in the books, hmm… If we have Maxym who were one of them and became so spiteful and vengeful to the point of doing what he does to Lestat under the name Memnoch, because doesn't it say in the adaptation that they will come (finally and gloriously) as a true opponent against the vampires?

"Oh my god… But Amel was a Replimoid too!" - Wrong!

He's a mutated human, fuck that Replimoid thing with Amel. He has a human body, a human soul and he suffered on earth and in space (at the hands of other creatures) to have the end he did and become what he became (Oh poor thing, let's feed him - fuck him!) The author (IN MY OPINION, WHICH IS WORTH NOTHING, YOU KNOW) doesn't know how to develop villains or creatures that should serve as opponents for vampires, I don't think this is very well constructed in the universe and it makes me think that maybe I don't have patience to watch Akasha be adapted because she is a mediocre villain. Good luck to Rolin and the writers…

But back to Maxym and the Replimoid business… If they've been on Earth for more than 12 years and are immortal, nothing stops them from walking freely under any identity, after all, vampires do that too… Hmmm~ When I read Memnoch I thought: he's very smart, although he doesn't need much to fool Lestat, but it made me seem like a lot of Les's journey had been paved by Memnoch, that a lot of decisions Lestat made were under Memenoch's influence, so look how much power Memenoch has it!

We later discover that Amel also has a certain power of influence because he is what he is, that spirit at the center of the great web, the great brain that drives the vampires' existence.

And here I make a parenthesis because the introduction of this new race serves no purpose, you spend a long chapter reading Kapetria say about them and in the end no useful answer is answered:

How did Amel become such a spiteful spirit?

Because, when, how does he start to feed on blood if previously as a human he didn't need it?

Was it some spiritual influence that transformed him into this terrible being?

WHY IS SUDDENLY EVERYONE BEING GOOD WITH HIM??????? The guy killed several vampires indiscriminately, he was a huge threat and he convinces Rhosh to do what he does and he gets away with it???? Geez…

And if we have Maxym as a Replimoid walking on earth for 12,000 years being as bad as I want him to be, who's to say that he hasn't already crossed the path of another vampire, or that he's going to do so soon? And why do I say that? Because we have Filip playing this Maxim in the second season.

It's written differently, I know, but I don't think a change like that would bring disgrace to such a character, let's be honest…

-> Filip Finkelstejn as Maxim

And this has an almost 100% chance of being totally different when it comes out, I understand that, but if they put Fareed early in season 1, what's stopping them from inserting the Replimoids as well? What's to stop them from summarizing characters and saving space and time like they did with Rashid and still maintaining their purpose? And WHAT IF Maxym will be there to try and pave the way for Louis because the easiest way to get to Lestat is and always will be through Louis?

I'll let you guys think about it…

[ohthemis]

What would happen if the s/o of NXX (seperate) had broken up with them, not explaining why but it was because they had to leave? Kind of like how luke disappeared for 8 years?

tot boys when you leave without explanation

characters: all

a/n: didn’t write for a break up, but ig u could read it as so.

ARTEM WING

artem’s fingers are numb. he’s been typing like that for hours without end. but frankly, he doesn’t mind it too much. anything that can get his mind off of you works for him. if he can wake up one day and not think of how you just up and left, of how you so easily walked out of his life, then it works for him. and it’s not as if he didn’t try to look for you. god knows he put everything on the line to see you again, to be able to touch you, to just know where you are and that you’re okay. but after months of him visiting the police station, after months of wasting away, captain morgan turning him away was the nail on the coffin. somewhere in between, the desperation turns into longing and he’ll grow from the pain, he just wishes you could grow alongside him.

LUKE PEARCE

he’s frantic, rightfully so. luke has never felt so torn apart, not when he’d left, not when he’d been told he was dying, not in the million of his missions has he ever felt so utterly ravaged. nights spent crying, screaming, and racking his brains for even a clue to why you could leave him after the two of you were finally happy were the only nights he’d get to know. but luke isn’t all bad, because he trusts you. frankly, that’s all he really has left; his trust in you. so he’s taking that gamble, that you’re not going to leave him, that you’re going to come home. and when that time comes, luke’s going to be there waiting for you. time and time again, luke will wait for you, but this time, he wishes you’ll find you way back to him too.

MARIUS VON HAGEN

grief melts into anger and suddenly, the world isn’t as bright as it had always been to him. sometimes, he’ll find himself driving to the law firm, only to realize you’re not going home with him anymore, and he has half a mind to shout at the universe for taking the only thing he’s ever really had to himself. he’ll find another one of your hair ties in his drawers, only to realize he won’t get to tie your hair for you anymore, and he hates himself for not telling you he loved you earlier, because maybe then he’d have more time with you. he’s angry, seething at the world for his loss, and the fact that he can’t even looking at a picture of you without feeling sick to his stomach. and he hates the fact that he can’t bring himself to move on, to be happy, to love anything else. and he hates that for a moment, he could’ve sworn his forever was going to be with you.

VYN RICHTER

vyn’s not a mess. he’s not throwing up, throwing things around, and he’s not ripping pictures of you two apart. but on some days where things don’t work in his favor, he finds himself coming back to the bed you shared and staring mindlessly at the selfie you took on his phone. and on those days where life throws him around, a few tears slip and he crumples under the weight of the world. he tries to compose himself, tell himself that crying doesn’t solve his problems, but the meals he makes don’t quite taste as warm as yours. the tea he makes don’t feel as homely as yours. and his hands wiping his eyes never feel as right as your lips kissing his tears away always did.

[actualbird]

fic where aaron is on vacation and luke needs to find mission injury first aid elsewhere

content warnings: violence, blood, injury, vomiting. luke pearce has a fun life, thats for sure!

wc: 1.2k

i want aaron to go on vacation with his wife (i think he needs a break, pls, surgeons do so much work and need to rest and also i think aaron needs some time to (lovingly) recharge from supporting the shitass mental health of stellis' most depressed detective) and it's a long one, i want him gone for a month doing stupidly romantic and relaxing activities with mrs. yishmir off in a wonderful beautiful location because aaron deserves time off and mrs. yishmir deserves her hot hot husband to shower her in attention

but also luke now doesnt have a doctor he go to when he gets injured

and like LUKE OFC TRIES TO JUST HANDLE EVERYTHING HIMSELF. oh he got stabbed tailing that one person? he'll do the stitches!! got his shoulder dislocated? easy peasy, he'll pop it back in the socket himself!! rib fracture? ehhhhh, so long as the bone didnt pierce his lungs, it's not too bad, honestly

aaron, from his vacation location: .....he's being stupid, i can feel it

mrs. yishmir: hes not your problem right now!!!

but yea luke tries to keep it under wraps but there are some injuries a person cant take care of on their own. luke is maybe just bleeding out in some alley and the pain of having a profusely bleeding wound is NOTHING to the emotional agony of him having to go thru his contacts and figure out whose day he needs to ruin

luke, in a phonecall: hey uh. are you busy? if you are, thats okay, i'll hang up. actually, im hanging up now! bye! im SO SORRY FOR CALLING I'LL---

artem, grumbling: where are you?

artem finds him and is FRIGGING AGHAST AND HORRIFIED and luke explains NO HOSPITALS bc the cases hes on this month are vaguely NSB-adjacent and need to stay off the record for a bit and artem is very very conflicted because Damn It Luke, He's An Attorney, Not A Doctor! but he helps luke out anyway because luke mentioned on that call to bring a roll of duct tape and so he did and luke makes grabby hands for the tape and just

tapes the wound shut

luke: there we go, all better!

artem: NO IT'S NOT

but it works to keep the bleeding at bay until they get to luke's place and luke can do some actual stitches. artem hovers from corner to corner, handing luke everything he needs worriedly and trying not to think about how luke's blood is on his hands (and the floor, and the bedsheets, and---)

once luke is done, he sighs and flops down onto the bed.

luke: thank you so much for helping, artem. im good now, so you can go.

artem: im not going

luke: WHAT.

artem is NOT GOING!!! luke was on death's doorstep an hour ago and artem legit wouldnt be able to fall asleep if he left luke alone right now (actually, hes probably not gonna be able to fall asleep very well for the next month, what with how hes seen not just his friend injured but how hes seen that friend patch himself up with such practiced motions that it's clear to artem that this happens a lot. and that luke always deals with it on his own).

cue luke trying to shoo artem away, his guilt increasing by the second, and artem just refuting all of his arguments and settling on luke's beanbag. luke cant even get artem to take the bed because artem is like "IT'S COVERED IN YOUR BLOOD" and luke is like "okay, fair point" so artem stays

the next morning, luke groggily wakes up to artem making an iron rich breakfast in the kitchen

and also i want this to happen to the other boys in the nxx too

luke gets non lethally poison darted one night and needs to get somewhere he can scream and vomit in safety and the closest place is not his own apartment but marius' art studio. luke has the audacity to kNOCK POLITELY ON THE DOOR and

marius: hey---jesus CHRIST you look like shit

luke: im fiiiine. one sec tho //turns to throw up on the grass

marius: OH MY GOD, GET IN HERE YOU IDIOT

marius stays with luke all throughout the effects of the poison and it's mostly just sitting by luke as he shivers and hurls stomach acid into the toilet. marius keeps things lighthearted by comparing it all to how marius took care of drunk friends back in undergrad and even though luke is dry heaving every other second, marius' words still make him laugh.

once it's over, marius does Not let luke leave. he just pulls out the sofa bed and plops luke onto it and says "if you even TRY to get up im telling miss lawyer and then youre life will be over" and so luke stays and rests

luke HOPED that he'd never have to bother vyn bc usually all his dumbass injuries happen in the dead of the night and vyn Is Asleep but fuck you luke pearce, everybody gets a turn to bandage your wounds fondly and call you an idiot (or something adjacent).

so vyn gets home in the afternoon from his classes and goes to check on his garden and finds an unmoving body in the rose bushes and when he gets closer, he sees it's luke. worryingly unconscious but vyn checks his pulse and sighs with relief. then vyn sees the little note in luke's hand and it says

"hi, vyn! im so sorry! mission stuff happened and i got hit with something thats putting me to sleep and your place was the closest so just let me chill here for a few hours and"

the note cuts off there, the writing turning into unintelligible noodles

vyn sighs, this time not in relief but in "is he serious?" vyn might not be the nicest person but hes not going to leave his friend out cold in the BUSHES (no matter how lovely those bushes are, thank you very much). so vyn has to lug luke's body ("how...are you so heavy...") into his living room and he sets luke onto the couch. luke doesnt seem to be injured anywhere, but the expression on his face is one of distress.

vyn switches on his record player and plays a vinyl. slow and calm music. something that'll hopefully let luke sleep easier.

as the notes play in the air, luke calms, and so vyn calms and just starts doing his work in the living room to watch over him

luke wakes up HOURS later and apologizes profusely and vyn is like "none of your apologies are accepted also stop talking so loud im going to bed. i made you dinner, by the way, it's on the dining table in a plastic container, do not let it go to waste."

luke takes the dinner home and he finds a note in the container. "stop apologizing for needing help." it's curt and to the point but luke wants to cry a little bit at it because he can tell when vyn is showing kindness

by the way, ALL the boys tell mc what happened and she gets worried ofc but also shes just glad luke went to people he trusted. she hopes that one day, he'll trust her too. he'll trust her enough to let her take care of him

but until then, there are people in luke's corner always willing to help

[sondepoch]

One Night (Marius x Reader)

Teaching a Billionaire to Touch Grass (And a Minimum Wage Worker to Treat Herself)

Marius clicks his tongue in annoyance, both at you and the cars around him. Why are there so many people on the road at 2:38 in the morning? Why did the GPS's projected time to get to your home just double? Why is the universe out to get him today, on the one night Marius thought he could catch a break?

“Okay,” he seethes, drumming his fingers on the wheel as the traffic around him grows impossible slower. He doesn’t look at you as he speaks. “We’re going to talk about how inappropriate this was.”

“I—I’m really sorry, Sir, I—”

“I’m not asking for an apology.” Maybe he is, actually. Marius is too pissed to be sure. “What I want to know is why you thought it was okay to call me, of all people.”

MASTERLIST

The car is silent. 

As Marius gets inside, he thinks that this might be the first time he’s not opening the passenger door seat for a lady partner, the first time he’s allowed himself to stalk straight into the driver's seat and angrily wait for his passenger to enter on their own.

Actually, he thinks, this is also the first time in years that he's actually driving. The first time someone managed to call for him so late that even his chauffeur was off-duty.

“I’m really sorry about this, Sir,” you mumble as you climb into the seat next to him, apologies never halting as you ramble on and on and on like an idiot who can't read a room. “I, ah, didn’t think this would happen, I'm so…”

Marius ignores you.

He glances out the passenger window and catches Darius Morgan’s equally-annoyed gaze. Seriously? the man seems to be asking, an unimpressed look crossed over his face as he eyes you through the car window. I don’t fucking know, Marius’s gaze says back, and he shakes his head the slightest as he starts the car.

“What’s your address?” he asks, interrupting your apologies. Propriety should make him feel somewhat embarrassed over the way he's acting,  but he can’t bring himself to be even a little polite right now.

“It’s by the Harbor. Um, if you go straight on Main Street and turn right at the—”

“Forget it,” Marius interrupts you. He taps the small car screen on his right, opening up the GPS interface. “Just type it in. I’ll drop you off.”

Your face falls at his irate voice, but you wisely don't comment on it, instead typing in your address as he asked. He watches you cautiously the whole time, for once not caring about the performance anxiety his gaze naturally brings to everyone he looks at. To your merit, you don't mess up anymore than you already have, deft fingers moving with the preciseness he’s used to seeing from you, but the skill can hardly impress him after you called him to pick you up from here, of all places. As the GPS routing sequence activates, Marius lets out an annoyed huff. This is not where he wanted to be right now.

Then, the car hums to life as he presses down on the accelerator, and he’s speeding in the direction of your home, trying to abandon his anger with the jailhouse the two of you are leaving.

I should be at home right now, he thinks as he moves onto the highway. He thinks about how long it had taken for him to coordinate this night off from Vyn’s tutoring sessions, Pax’s board meetings, his schoolwork, and the NXX’s meetings. I should be sleeping, or painting, or calling Rosa, or—

“Fuck,” he mutters when traffic begins to slow down. 

He’s in a traffic jam.

So much for sleeping. And painting. And calling Rosa. 

He clicks his tongue in annoyance, both at you and the cars around him. Why are there so many people on the road at—Marius glances at the car’s dashboard—2:38 in the morning? Why did the GPS's projected time to get to your home just double? Why is the universe out to get him today, on the one night Marius thought he could catch a break?

“Okay,” he seethes, drumming his fingers on the wheel as the traffic around him grows impossible slower. He doesn’t look at you as he speaks. “We’re going to talk about how inappropriate this was.”

“I—I’m really sorry, Sir, I—”

“I’m not asking for an apology.” Maybe he is, actually. Marius is too pissed to be sure. “What I want to know is why you thought it was okay to call me, of all people.”

He keeps his glare fixated on the road, knowing that if he shoots you with the same thunderous look he uses to fire people, you’ll probably be too terrified to speak. Still, when you finally start talking, he can sense the fear in your voice.

His grip on the steering wheel softens the slightest.

“I, ah, initially was planning on calling Mr. Vincent. But he—”

“Really?” Marius snaps. “You’re his assistant, right?” Marius thinks back to all the times he stalked into Pax Headquarters only to see Vincent there with his morning coffee in hand and you, always three feet behind, holding Vincent’s work files. The Board of Directors criticized Marius for allowing his assistant to have an assistant, but never did he imagine you to be so…

Incompetent, he wants to say. Foolish might be a better word for it, though.

“Ah, yes. His administrative assistant.”

“And you want me to believe,” Marius huffs, “That the first person you wanted to call to bail you out of jail was the man you’re an administrative assistant to?”

Traffic gets ever slower, and Marius’s car rolls to a complete stop.

“Yes,” you whisper, and you start wringing your fingers in a manner so sheepish that Marius almost wants to believe you. Almost. “I, ah, was going to call him first. But then I remembered that his vacation started last night and that he’s already left Stellis. So I figured that if I called him, he’d just call you, so I…”

He wouldn’t call me, Marius thinks. Vincent is smart enough to find someone else to pick you up from jail. Regular people don’t ask these kinds of favors from their boss. Especially not from their boss's boss.

“Do you know that people usually ask their friends for these things?” Marius asks. Some of his anger seeps away when he realizes how apologetic you actually are, and he moves forward in traffic the slightest. “Or family, perhaps. What you did was…” Marius tries to find a kinder word than completely inappropriate. “Was highly unusual.” He sighs. “Why didn’t you ask someone else?”

He stares at you through the corner of his eye. You’re pursing your lips, holding back tears. Again, his gaze softens.

“I don't have anyone else,” you whisper.

Marius thinks it’s strange for you to imply that you even have him, especially when he’s nothing more to you than a high-level corporate executive, one that you’ve never spoken directly to in your entire life, but he doesn’t press you any further.

Releasing the final remnants of his anger in a soft sigh, he switches lanes and decides to pull into the nearest exit.

“Darius said you were in that cell since yesterday afternoon. You haven’t had dinner yet, right?”

“No, but…”

“This traffic isn’t going anywhere. We may as well get you something to eat.”

He exits easily, pulling into a district of Stellis that he’s never been in before, and ignores your quiet sniffle. 

“Thank you,” you whisper.

Earlier, he was ignoring you out of spite. Now, he doesn’t respond because he wants to preserve your dignity.

As he focuses his attention on the district he's pulled to, ignoring the GPS which vehemently opposes everything he's doing, Marius realizes that he's pulled into a rather poor sector of Stellis. It’s filled with unhealthy fast food joints, late-night drunkards, and a bunch of loiterers who are eyeing his high-end car suspiciously.

After driving around and surveying the options, Marius sighs. 

“The only places open are these fast-food restaurants,” he says, cleanly leaving out the option of getting food from a club or anywhere else a tabloid might be able to snap a picture. “Are you okay with that?”

“Yeah!” you chirp, and Marius finds that your smile is oddly sweet. “Ah, would you be okay with that one over there? I go there a lot, and their food is...better than other fast food places.” 

Marius squints at you for a moment. He tries to recall your salary, and when he fails, he thinks of Vincent’s. Surely, you make a similar wage? You shouldn’t need to frequent fast-food restaurants like this, right?

Shaking his head, he decides not to ask about it. Things like where you eat are your business, not his, and it’s not his place to question you on your personal decisions.

He pulls up to the drive-through, somewhat relieved to find that the dine-in option isn’t even available at this hour, and lets you order whatever you want. You end up taking a meager meal, one that Marius doubts will actually fill your stomach when he can hear it growling so loudly, so when you turn to him and ask what he’ll get, he orders some fries in hopes that he can hand them off to you in case you’re still hungry. 

Minutes later, the two of you are parked on the side of the road with your respective meals in your laps. Only once you’ve finished (and after Marius is starting to pawn his fries off to you, finding that they’re rather unappealing to his pallette) does he think it’s appropriate to actually breach the subject of why you were tossed in jail.

“So,” he drawls, listening to the cool hum of the air conditioner. “Drugs, huh?”

He hears you choke on a fry.

“Th-they weren’t mine!” you blurt. “Honest, Sir, they—”

“Relax,” he says, eyes flitting down. “I’m not going to have you fired over this. Vincent wouldn’t want that. If anything, the court will decide.”

You relax a little at that, but Marius can sense that you’re still on edge.

“I...appreciate that a lot, Sir. But, really, the drugs weren’t mine. I—I’m sure there’s video evidence to prove that. I was just coming home from work when a kid told me to hold onto this bag, and—”

Marius lifts an eyebrow. He may be out of touch with the realities of the common class, but even he knows how ridiculous your story is.

“I didn’t take it, though! He handed it to me and I put it on the ground! But...but an officer saw me put it on the ground and assumed it was mine...and then...you know what happened.”

Marius sighs. You've always been a good, low-profile worker. He has no reason to believe that you'd get involved with anything bad: but he can't help but doubt you. When he next speaks, his voice is laced with hesitance. “Is there anything to prove your innocence? Pax can help get you a good lawyer, but without evidence, it’ll—”

“There is!” Your eyes are too determined to be anything other than sincere. “Or, ah, there should be. It happened right outside my apartment. I’m sure someone there has surveillance footage of what happened.”

Marius ignores the quiet “hopefully” you add to the end of that. 

“Alright,” he says, deciding that it’s not his place to decide whether or not he believes your story. “Tell me how you got my private number, then. Pax employees shouldn’t have access to that information.”

“Oh, ah…”

Your gaze turns sheepish. Marius grows even more interested in your response.

“Mr. Vincent had it written down a couple months ago. I accidentally saw it. I tried to forget, but…”

You seem to be kicking yourself over the blunder, but Marius is impressed. A mind that can remember something months after having seen it only once is a valuable thing, he thinks. It’s a waste for someone with your brain to be working as a mere assistant’s assistant.

“I’m really—”

“It’s okay,” Marius says. “You don’t need to apologize. I’m...not mad at you.”

And somehow, he really isn’t angry anymore.

The two of you finish your meal soon enough, Marius having successfully pressed his fries into your hands. It seems that you really are hungry because you down those in a manner of minutes, and the man almost regrets not having ordered more when he hears your stomach still grumbling beneath the hum of the car as he returns to the highway.

As Marius lets the GPS guide him back onto Stellis’s most frequented roads, he’s pleasantly surprised to find that all traffic is gone. He speeds down the road with a renewed vigor, somehow sidestepping the usual sleepiness that overcomes him during these kinds of drives with your idle commentary of the road, little mentions of “I once saw a turtle here” and “there used to be four lanes here, but they changed it to five” and “this mile-post had the wrong number on it for years before I reported it and highway patrol got it changed.”

If anything, there’s a faint smile on his face when he finally pulls off the freeway, almost amused by your quiet chit-chat. 

“Is this the right neighborhood?” Marius asks as he pulls into one of Stellis’s residential districts. 

“Yeah, it’s just a little further down.” You gather your purse in your lap and thank Marius for the umpteenth time.

“It's okay,” he says, slowing down. The apartments are looking poorer, now, dingier, but he tries not to let that show on his face. “Is it here?”

“Right at the end of the street,” you say, and with only a mildly concerned look on his face, Marius drives you further down the road.

His eyebrows furrow as he realizes what kind of neighborhood you live in, and he wonders if your wage truly is so poor that you have to live here, of all places. The apartment complexes here are unrenovated, a disappointing amount of them sporting broken glass or graffiti on them. Litter covers the grounds, and even in the thick, 3-AM darkness, Marius can make out hundreds of beer cans scattered across the lawns. Bushes are either dying or overgrown, and there are cigarette butts everywhere. 

Marius realizes that between his suit, his car, and his three earrings, he might have more money on him than everyone who lives here combined.

“Which...which of these apartments is yours?”

He looks around warily, quietly hoping that you’ll say it’s none of them.

“Ah, it’s the first window on the second floor of that…” you trail off as your pointer finger lands on an apartment where all lights are lit—and three masked figures stand illuminated, clearly ransacking your house.

“Oh my god,” Marius blurts, already getting his phone out. “You’re getting robbed, what the—”

“No, no!” You’re quick to place a hand on Marius’s arm before he can dial Emergency Services. “Those are, ah, just the neighborhood boys. They...they do bad things, but they’re good kids. Don’t worry. I’ll chase them out in no time, you don’t have to—”

“Are you serious?” Marius asks, dumbfounded. “This—how can you go back to a home like that? You could die, or—or—”

“Sir,” you say, looking him in the eyes with more seriousness than he’s seen from you this entire night. “With all due respect, this is the best I can afford.”

Marius falls silent at that.

You open the door silently, casting your eyes down. “Thank you again for everything,” you murmur. “I...I really appreciate it. I’ll do my best to make sure it never happens again.”

But then, Marius thinks about the weak story you gave to him earlier, where you claimed that someone handed you drugs and then left you with them, and he wonders whether it might have actually been true. Whether this neighborhood, with its burglars and alcoholism and litter, could actually present you with that reality. Whether something like that may happen again to you, or, worse, Marius thinks as he glances back into your apartment at the three masked robbers, if you could actually get hurt.

Against all better judgment, his arm snaps out. He grips your wrist instantly, not thinking about propriety or class divisions or economic status or anything other than you, one of his company’s employees, and your safety.

“Don’t go there,” he blurts. When he realizes that you’re not tearing your arm free of him, he speaks again. “At least, not while they’re there. I’ll come back here with you tomorrow to make sure you can return in a safe environment, and—”

“Sir, I can’t just get a hotel or—”

“I have two guest bedrooms. You can take your pick. Just—ah—” Marius glances out the window at the poor neighborhood you live in, and he winces. “I can’t let you go home to this. Not...not while there are robbers in your house. Please understand.”

“This...this kind of problem doesn’t just go away,” you mumble, but Marius relaxes when he sees your grip on the door loosen. “And besides, it really wouldn’t be appropriate for me to stay in your apartment.”

“Most people wouldn’t call it appropriate to call your company’s CEO to bail you out of jail,” Marius jokes, but the humor of it is lost on you.

“I…”

Your face falls.

“A—that was a joke,” Marius stutters. “I was joking.”

“Right.”

The atmosphere of the car goes awkward, made even worse by the GPS’s automated reminder that your destination is on the left, but the more Marius looks out his window, the more he decides that he can’t possibly let you return to this apartment. He’ll give you a raise if he has to, but this is something no one should be subject to.

“Alright,” you finally relent after Marius makes it clear that he won’t speak unless it’s to plead with you more. “Just for one night.”

“Just for one night,” Marius agrees, already planning how he can make sure that you have a better home to return to than this one for all future nights to come.

[thenovelartist]

absolutely LOVEEEE that headcanon of the boys as fathers 🥺 i was wondering if you accept requests and if you’d do a similar one of how the boys would take care/tend to the reader while they were pregnant/in labor? thank you!

I do take requests :D I quite like them, actually. ;)

Luke

She will be smothered… over smothered, that is.

“Luke, I’m pregnant; not helpless.”

He can’t help it. He cares deeply for his Rosa. Now, she’s pregnant with his child, and there is absolutely nothing he wouldn’t do for either of them.

When weathering the morning sickness stage, he’s always there, holding back her hair and rubbing her back. Always brings her water afterwards, but only after he asks if it’s okay to leave her side.

Will always help her with her shoes. Always. He knows it’s hard for her to bend down.

And no strenuous activities! Luke always handles that.

Midnight snack runs are his least favorite thing, but he still doesn’t complain as he gets whatever she’s craving. And he always calls to confirm that he gets exactly what she wants when he’s there.

Scratch that: his least favorite thing are the mood swings. Not because he can’t handle them, but because he hates when she cries. And if she’s hormonally-influenced and he can’t really rationally fix things for her, the best he can do is weather the storm with her, holding her and soothing her.

He’s the kind that will talk to his baby frequently, already telling said baby how much he can’t wait for them to arrive.

And he loves feeling the baby kicking under his hands. He’ll legit get misty-eyed every time.

Also, has pictures of the ultrasound in his pocket at all times. Which will be replaced by a picture of the baby when it arrives.

When her water breaks, Luke goes into slight panic mode as he tries to collect everything they need for the hospital.

He’s by her side every step of the way, helping her get comfortable or letting her squeeze his hand or listening to her curse his name.

And when the baby arrives, he’s able to relax, he knees almost giving out on him as he tells MC how amazing she is.

Vyn

Attentive to a fault.

“Vyn, honey, I can feel you staring.”

He’s done his research; he knows what medically is best for a pregnant woman.

And he’ll insist on that routine… mostly.

It changes when he realizes that pregnant woman are… well… how to put this nicely?

Recommending and doing are two very different things.

Morning sickness phase, and he set up the house so a garbage can is always within reach.

Will carefully hold her hair out of the way, but he won’t touch her incase that won’t help.

And will always offer water or tea or something afterwards.

He allows light exercise. Recommends it, even. He’ll take regular walks with her and let her do some work around the house, but he begs her to not pick up anything too heavy and tell him if she’s growing tired.

This man tries to control her diet, giving her healthy foods. But ultimately, he’ll cave when she cries or insists she can’t stomach whatever he’s recommending.

Ends up making her sweets frequently to sate her sweet tooth, but will cave and go grab her something if she’s having severe cravings.

Her mood swings are navigated with ease. He knows she’s hormonal, and so he doesn’t take anything personally and simply becomes the steady rock she can lean on.

He loves feeling the baby kick under his hand. He always gets a relaxed smile and keeps his hand on MC’s stomach even after the baby stops.

When her water breaks, he’s cool on the outside, but inside, he’s surprisingly nervous.

He’s talked with MC previously about what exactly she wants for the process. And he’ll be watching the doctors like a hawk to make sure she’s being properly attended to.

When the baby arrives, he’ll be sure to squeeze her hand, brush the hair from her forehead, and tell her she did a great job. The only reason he leaves her side is to then watch the doctors care for his child.

Artem

Worry. Wart.

“Artem, love, calm down. Me and the baby are just fine.”

He’s done more research than MC knows what to do with.

She’ll have to drag him away from said research to get him to come to bed.

During the morning sickness phase, he is there holding her hair back and rubbing her back, then waiting at her beck and call for anything else she needs. Water? Tea? Juice? Nothing and just carry her back to bed? He’s there.

He’s doing as many chores as possible to keep her off her feet. And will not let her help with any.

If she wants or needs anything, from massages to midnight snack runs, he is on it.

Also cooks to accommodate whatever weird cravings she has.

As for mood swings, though…

Oh, this poor man is so lost.

He goes to Celestine to beg for help with them.

Eventually, he tries his best to just be supportive and offer hugs or whatever she wants.

The first time he felt the baby kick was a total shock to him, and he won’t forget it any time soon. This man stood in total shock and awe for a solid minute.

Now, he enjoys resting his hand on her stomach when he can, in hopes of feeling a kick, but even if he doesn’t, it’s become a comfort for him.

When her water breaks, he gets very focused. He knows what needs to happen and is running through that mental list repeatedly so as to keep calm.

Whatever she wants, she gets. He’s there to help her in whatever way she needs from him. And he’s not leaving her side for so much as a second.

He does everything he can to not show the panic he’s feeling internally as he watches MC go through the process. He’s got to support her, not panic.

When the baby arrives, he’s able to calm down, though it might take him a moment to remember to kiss MC’s forehead and smother her in praise.

Marius

Honestly, he’s terrified. He tries to play it off, but he’s really worried for her well-being, seeing as his own mother passed soon after he was born.

“Marius, everything is going to be just fine.”

During the morning sickness phase, he kinda… doesn’t know what to do. So he leaves her alone when she’s in the bathroom while he’s standing just outside of it, his fists clenching and unclenching nervously. And when she’s done, he’ll wait a bit before asking if she’s okay and if she needs anything.

He wants to do everything for her, and he’ll look like a kicked puppy if scolded.

It’s just his way of protecting and caring for her, so MC will try to not get on his case too frequently.

If she needs anything, he is on it. Most of the times, he’ll go himself, but sometimes, if he can’t bear to leave her, he’ll call someone up to fetch what she needs.

When it comes to the mood swings, he’s a little lost. He eventually learns that the teasing needs to stop, but as for the rest of it… well, he just tries his best.

He’ll pamper her with bath salts and soothing and anything else he can get his hands on, hoping that those things would help her relax as much as possible. (It’s no fun to have money if he can’t spoil MC with it.)

As for the baby kicks, though, he’s in awe when he first feels it. Then he breaks out into an endearingly sweet grin.

Kisses her belly frequently and is most comfortable when he can sleep with his hand over her belly. It’s almost like he can protect it, and that’s enough to calm him.

When her water breaks, he’s a wreck.

Bag, car, hospital. They can do this. They can do this.

And maybe if he keeps repeating it, it will be true.

The most terrified of all the guys watching her go through the stages, and at one point, was almost asked to leave the room.

When the baby arrives, he’s not able to settle down quite yet. Not until everyone is cared for and get a clean bill of health.

Only then will he calm down, squeeze MC’s hand, and kiss her knuckles.

[devilberries]

~Tears of Themis~

Marius royalty au

Part ii coming out soon with Marius x femMC

Pressure.

Marius Von Hagen knew pressure very well. In fact, he was acquainted with pressure since he was born. Pressure had been holding his hand since he learned how to walk, and it’s always stuck by his side.

Pressure weighed on his back when he became prince. Pressure weighed on his back when he sat with the neighboring royal children. Pressure weighed on his back when his brother ran away. Pressure weighed on his back when he became the crown prince. Pressure weighed on his back when his parents both grew old and ill.

Pressure weighed on his back when he became king.

And here he sat on the throne. It felt uncomfortable, like he didn’t belong there. The elbow rests of the golden chair were cold, unwelcoming. The seat itself was big. He felt like a small child, sitting there.

It reminded him that he was only king in name. At least, that was what people kept saying. He almost believed them. He really should. After all, how could he rule a kingdom he was never meant to rule?

Was this why his brother left? Were the responsibilities too much? Was this why he ran away, leaving all the heavy burdens behind for his pitiful younger brother?

Marius slumped in his seat defeatedly. It wasn’t like he could ask his parents for help when they were both ill in their beds.

But now that there was a change in power, advisors, military commanders, and neighboring kingdoms were watching for a chance to swoop in and eat up Marius. They were waiting for him to slip and fall, using it to their advantage. They would try and try to manipulate Marius, the ignorant younger prince who only knew how to draw.

He heard the whispers in the long halls. He knew of the names they conjured up for him. He could feel the contempt through their fake smiles.

“Your Royal Majesty,” one of the advisors coughed. Marius snapped out of his daze and looked at him. The advisor furrowed his eyebrow and stated, “As the king of this nation, it would be wise not to mindlessly daydream in the middle of a meeting.”

Marius could hear another counselor scoff under his breath, “King? He’s no king. Just a foolish child wearing a crown.”

He raised eyes at the two men calmly.

“Tell me, old man, who is my father?”

The counselor stared back at him with caution as he answered, “His Royal Majesty King Austin von Hagen.”

Marius smirked when he heard his voice quiver. “Alright, and what is my brother’s title?”

Whispers rush between the men along the long table. It was an unspoken rule not to speak of the original crown prince. They could feel the tension suffocate them.

“H-His Royal Highness… Prince G-Giann von Hagen.”

“Good!” Marius smiled, praising the old man, who sat there, sweating buckets of water. “Now,” he stared straight into his eyes, “what is my title?”

“Y-Your Royal Majesty… King Marius von Hagen II.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Marius waved his finger at the counselor. “That’s not what you said a few seconds ago. Tell me, oh, wise counselor.” He walked behind the old man, towering above him. He placed his hands on his shoulders and asked, “What did you call me?”

The silence was loud. Everyone could only look down, ignoring the counselor. Marius could feel the man shake beneath his touch.

He knew this wasn’t the life he was meant for. He knew that he was better off painting somewhere far away from the throne. Marius knew he was an incompetent king.

But a king nonetheless.

When the man said nothing, Marius whispered, just loud enough for everyone to hear, “That’s treason, you know? What should we do with you, hmm? We could,” he traced his finger on the shaking counselor’s neck, “slit your throat. Hang you. Maybe both. Or wait,” he snaked his arm around the man’s shoulder and harshly grabbed the man’s cheeks with one hand.

“We could cut that tongue of yours out.”

As if that triggered something in him, the man began to sputter out words, begging for mercy. He’d be on his knees if he could, but he didn’t dare shove Marius away. The young king cringed when he felt the man’s snot and tears drip down on his hand. Hastily, he pulled away and called for the guards.

As they forced the counselor away, he screamed and cried, but they all fell on deaf ears. Marius turned to the others who sat there with pale faces.

“I think it’d be best to end the meeting here today. Good day, everyone.” He turned to leave, and everyone let out a sigh of relief, until he turned around. They all flinched and attempted to compose themselves. “Ah, by the way,” he eyed each one of them carefully. “I wasn’t joking when I said that was treason. If I hear a single one of you utter a word about my father, brother, or me, I will cut your tongues out, and let it be known that your families won’t be spared.”

He swiftly exited the room and headed to his parents room.

Pressure trailed behind him, so he walked faster. It was a hopeless attempt, as it caught up to him in no time. He paused his movement and clutched his chest, taking in heavy breaths. The shame and embarrassment clouds his vision, while fear blocked his hearing. He was simply alone, facing his fellow friend pressure once more.

He could tell it was mocking him. He could hear its laughs as it pointed at him, calling his crown unbefitting of him, a faux king. He could feel the judgement of its eyes as it stared at him, his glimmering jewels and badges and oversized cape.

Even with all the riches and gold covering him, he felt so naked.

When he felt its hand on its shoulder, he turned and yelled at it, hoping the nightmare would end.

“Get away from me!”

There he was, Vyn, his Royal Tutor, hand in the air as it was shoved away by Marius, and wearing a surprised expression on his face.

He quickly erased whatever trace of shock he had on his face and inquired the boy, “Should we skip todays lessons, Your Royal Majesty?”

Marius blinked back at him, not comprehending what he had just said.

What just happened? Did he shove Vyn?

Vyn saw his visible panic and gently placed his hand on his shoulder. The poor boy looked at him with fear.

“Your Royal Majesty-“

“Don’t call me that,” he whispered with closed eyes. “That’s not me. I’m not…”

“Oh, but you are,” Vyn said. “Let’s talk somewhere more private, shall we?”

No words came out of Marius, so the Tutor pulled the depressed king along with him into a private guest bedroom. He softly pushed Marius to sit on the bed, while he himself sat on the chair, watching the boy.

“How do you feel?”

Marius stared at the ground emptily. “Can I answer you honestly, Vyn?”

“Of course. You can tell me anything… Marius,” he added that at the end carefully. The boy let out a relieved sigh once he heard Vyn drop the honorifics.

“You really don’t have to call me all those things in public either, Vyn.”

He smiled, “That would be rude and almost treasonous. Didn’t I teach you that?”

“Argh,” Marius bent over, covering his face. “Don’t even mention the word treason near me again.”

“Why? What’s wrong with that?”

Marius looked up, and Vyn chuckled at his distressed expression. “I may have gotten mad at someone for talking shit about me, so I sent him to the chambers and threatened to cut his tongue off…”

Vyn raised an eyebrow, “Was it someone from the Council?”

“Yeah, it was,” Marius sighed.

“Well, it was very irrational to say, at the least, but at least you took the initiative to use your power. That’s the first step of being a ruler.”

“But I don’t want to be a ruler, Vyn. You know that. This,” he got up and spread his arms out, pointing to himself, “none of this stuff feels right. Being King doesn’t feel right. I don’t feel right. Everything is just so…” He trailed off, rubbing his eyes hard to stop the tears.

Vyn sat there patiently. He watched as the boy just a bit younger than him fall apart. He knew it would happen one day. No, in fact, he hoped it would happen. Perhaps this was Marius’s way to free himself from this mess of a kingdom he was born it.

The Tutor was smart. He was intelligent enough to be a military strategist, maybe even be King, but he was unlucky. He was born with commoner blood, yet maybe he was grateful to have been a mere peasant, a mere servant to serve a spoiled prince because he realized being born with royal blood didn’t mean you were lucky; you were just crushed even more by the endless expectations of thousands of people who entrust their lives to you.

He knew what Marius was going to

Everything was just so suffocating.

———————————

It took a while for Marius to stop crying. Vyn chuckled to himself thinking about it. How old was he? Twenty-one, right? Twenty-one and still weeping like he was five.

“Marius.” The boy who was sitting down on the bed, hugging a soft white pillow, looked up with puffy eyes. They decided it was best to stay until his eyes were a bit better in case word spreads that the King is a big baby. “If the pressure makes you too anxious, how about visiting the Themis Temple?”

“Temple? But I’m not religious,” Marius sniffed.

“I know that, but it might calm you a bit. Visiting the temple may bring peace and tranquil for your mind. Plus, I heard the priests and priestesses there are very kind and welcoming to all, despite social and economical differences.”

The boy raised his eyebrow when he heard the words “welcoming to all, despite social and economical differences.”

Was there really such a place that would overlook such things?

“Plus, I hear that they have this intriguing… we’ll call it ‘tradition.’”

“What do you mean by that?” Marius questioned.

“Well, you see, they believe that all the Head Priestesses that are born inherit Themis’s blood. I hear the Head Priestess as of now has a daughter who is coming of age to become the next Head Priestess, so they’re having this event, almost like a ritual to perform on the girl.”

Marius furrowed his eyebrows. “Ritual?”

Vyn nodded, “Yes, a ritual. I’ve only heard rumors, since the last one was forty years ago, but, apparently, the girl gets hot water poured all over her. It’s suppose to symbolize inheriting the burdens of the last Head Priestess and to make her feel the injustice of this world weigh down on her.”

Marius frowned. That sounded more like torture. He felt pity for the girl. She seemed similar to Marius, born with responsibility and pressure, with a role she never asked for.

“How about you go with me right now? We can use our study time to see whether or not you’ll like it. Plus, I believe it’s an opportunity of a lifetime.”

“But won’t people recognize me?” He inquired.

“The question you should be asking is not that, but if you ‘want’ people to recognize you.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t want people to know,” he grumbled.

“Then we shall dress as normal aristocrats. Come now, I have plenty of clothes that will suit you. You’ll have to make due with a commoner’s clothes, Your-“

“Don’t even think about addressing me like that,” he sneers. “And I don’t mind about wearing commoner stuff. I don’t care for this social hierarchy at all.”

Vyn whistles, “How cute, coming from a person of privilege.”

“You know that’s not what I mean!”

“Right, right, of course. I’ll just have to trust your word then. Now, shall we get dressed?”

The two exit the guest bedroom and head to Vyn’s, which was a couple doors down the hall. They walked side by side. Though the servants and maids whispered among themselves, Marius was occupied with his thoughts.

He couldn’t get his mind off of the girl. Perhaps it was infatuation, or genuine curiosity. He created an illusion in his mind.

In his fantasies, he would speak with the girl. He would ask if she felt proud to be part of this bloodline of Goddess’s, or if she felt as if such a position did not suit someone like her. In his mind, she would hesitantly tell him her true thoughts, that she didn’t want to burn under the wrath of the burning water. He would say he felt the same, that he had always been crushed by the constant expectations of the people. He would hold her hand and promise that he would save her, that the two of them could run away together, and she would agree. And together they would-

“The advisors weren’t wrong about you and your constant daydreaming,” Vyn chuckled as he flicked his forehead. Marius flinched, groaning out loud as he slapped his hand above his eyes. The Tutor turned the knob and held the door open. “Hurry now; we wouldn’t want to miss the performance, would we?”

Marius huffed and stepped in, shoving the Tutor along his way. Inside, Artem sat at Vyn’s desk, reading a few documents. His shirt was slightly unbuttoned, and his face wore a tired expression with the visible frown and disheveled hair.

It would be best not to piss off the Royal Justice.

“Artem,” Vyn called out. The grumpy man turned away from his papers and nodded at Vyn. When he noticed Marius, he heaved himself up to properly greet his king, but Marius quickly stopped him.

“Hey, sit down. I don’t need to hear any more honorifics than I should, and I would really hate hearing them from you.”

Artem sighed as he sat back down, pinching his nose bridge. “Sorry, I’m just completely exhausted right now. Work has been so swamped lately.”

Marius softened his eyes. “Is there anyway I can help you?”

The Royal Justice shook his head, “No. If you assisted me, word would spread that I am incompetent. There’s already enough rumors spreading around the castle.”

He had already known how brutally honest Artem was. Still, he could never get used to it. It ticked him off how Artem brushed him off like that; it felt insulting.

Before Marius could say any retort, Vyn placed a hand on his shoulder. “Artem, how about we all take a break?”

[bahorell]

Les Amis (& co.) and what they’re like camping

Enjolras: Is kinda scared of the woods. Also he’s that guy that really has a hard time putting his phone down because “I just have to respond to this one email”. “Yeah give me one second I’m dealing with a work thing”. “omg did you hear about what’s happening in Canada? It’s horrible those poor people” “Enj the point of this is to get away from everything for a couple days” “Right I know…”. So if there’s even one bar of service they gotta go find a different place. When he isn’t on his phone he’s very active in all his friends activities. He’s not super outdoors-y so he mostly tags along when other people do things. He’ll have Baz or Courf take him on rides on their paddle boards. He’ll tag along when Chetta and Ferre go on hikes. He’ll be Feuilly’s little helper person when Feuilly’s working on building the fire. Or he’ll just hand out with people at camp or on the beach of the lake/river and just talk.

Combeferre: Loves camping because of all the bugs and critters! Found the tiniest little frogs on the shore of the lake one time and made everybody look at them. Brings plant and animal and bug ID books with him and will take little leaves or flowers and stick them in the pages of the book when he thinks he found a match. He doesn’t usually snack too much when he’s at home but when he’s in the woods he is always eating something and it’s really when he’ll let himself just go balls to the wall with the junk food. The only thing he doesn’t really like about camping is that he doesn’t get to go on jogs in the morning because he’s smart enough to not run into the woods in the middle of nowhere with no service by himself.

Courfeyrac: Has an inflatable paddle board that he bought! He likes to play lifeguard and will paddle around to all his friends who are swimming and give them rides to shore. He likes to share his paddle board with his friends but he didn’t have enough money to buy a super super fancy one that has a large weight capacity so usually if someone else is on it with him it sinks into the water enough to stress him out. Also he shares a big tent with Combeferre and Enjolras and he likes to sleep in the middle of the two of them.

Joly: Invested in a super super cute small teardrop camping trailer a couple years ago. It’s easier for him to get in and out of than a tent or god forbid a hammock (Bahorel has to lift him into it then Joly wants to get in one… this is also partially because Bahorel sets up all the hammocks and they are p much impossible to get in unless you are also 6’7”) The inside of the camper is just a bed and the back hatch opens up to cabinets and drawers and a counter and stuff that makes a nice little make shift kitchen. He’ll set up the camp stove and the cooking area right next to it. He’s not super involved in any of the cooking it just gives him less stress when the food area is organized and the table legs are on a flat surface.

Jehan: Jehan tells the ghost stories. They aren’t very good at telling ghost stories so nobody really gets scared (except for Marius and if they’re really doing a good job Enj will get a little spooked). They also wake up with the sunrise so they’re up and ready to start the day at like 5am… and they really aren’t quiet about it so they manage to wake up 2/3 of everybody else at camp. Has more dietary needs than other people so when every one gets together to build a grocery list and meal plan for the trip they’ll make their own list. They really don’t mind because they HATE sharing snacks so having their own little baby cooler all to themselves is the best. Bousset: Somehow manages to have the most amazing balance and can get on and off Bahorel or Courf’s paddle boards like it’s nothing but when he gets in the canoe with anybody they somehow always tip it over within like 20 seconds. He is the opposite of Jehan he’ll sleep until like 2 in the afternoon if one of them doesn’t come to wake him up. He’s also usually in charge of getting all the booze together for the trip bc he’s very aware of what everyone likes to drink. He takes turns with Chetta sleeping in the trailer with Joly since not all three of them can fit. When he’s not sleeping in the tent he’s sharing a tent with Grantaire.

Feuilly: Fire guy. Loves the fire. Is always excited for the sun to go down so he can start the campfire. Will not take his eyes off the fire. I mean seriously. They once played never have I ever and when it got to be his turn they timed him to see how long it would take for him to realize it was his turn bc he was too busy staring at the fire to pay attention (it was a solid 4 minutes). Sleeps in a tiny little one person tent that would make anybody else claustrophobic but he LOVES it. He does set up a hammock right next to Bahorel’s. He doesn’t sleep in it but the two of them will take naps together in their hammocks. He also has to dowse his body in SPF 10000000000+ because he’s the whitest person ever, and somehow he still manages to get a sunburn on some part of his body.

Bahorel: He’s the guy thats super picky about the camp spot. “eh i mean this one is cool but it’s a little too close to the other campsite and I don’t wanna be that close to other people thats the point of this trip is to get away from everybody.” “This one WOULD be perfect but it doesn’t have good access to the lake so it’s gonna be hard for those of us that have boats to get down there” “Bahorel the boat ramp is like 1/8 of a kilometer away we can just walk down to that…” “i mean we COULD… but it just kinda sucks” Also Bahorel has this super nice hammock system with like a bug net and a rain tarp, he will not sleep on the ground because he is scared of bugs and also the baby boy likes getting rocked to sleep. He always follows Feuilly around when he’s looking for a place to put his tent and he’ll set up his hammock right next to him. And he WAILS to Feuilly when they get back home because his SKINCARE ROUTINE GOT MESSED UP FEUILLY OHHH MY GODDDD

Grantaire: Not super big on camping but if he’s with his friends he’s having fun. There’s something about being in the woods that makes him quiet… but not in a sad way. He feels really peaceful when he isn’t dealing with a bunch of people in a big city (Even tho he loves the city). He always brings stuff so that he can draw or paint the mountains or his friends on the lake but he usually doesn’t get enough time to really make anything more than a sketch. He’s not scared of water but he avoids going in the lake if it’s not a part of it that’s deeper than his tummy. He won’t get in the boats unless there’s a lot of coaxing (usually by Enj)

Marius: LOVES being in the woods. I mean really loves it. Surprisingly it’s usually Marius that sends out the text to the group chat that’s like “hey is everybody free in a couple weekends? I wanna go camping!” He just really doesn’t like going by himself or going with just one or two people. He wakes up super early as well and usually will sit with Jehan and share coffee waiting for everybody else to wake up. Sometimes the two of them will go on a little walk together. He winds down pretty early in the evening though since he wakes up so early and is usually ready for bed by like 8:45pm. He’s also that guy that wants to eat all the berries on the bushes they walk past and has almost given Combeferre a heart attack like 7 times.  

Eponine: She’s… alright to camp with. She gets kinda grumpy in the mornings because of how cold it is but she warms up (both temperature wise, but also her mood) once she’s eaten and it’s gotten warmer out. She really just likes to lay in one of the communal hammocks and read book after book. She’ll also tag along with Gavroche on a lot of his little adventures. When she’s not with Gavroche or letting Combeferre show her all the little bugs and cool plants he found, she just sunbathes. For HOURS straight. Going camping for her is just a really long fun weekend to get her tan on.

Cosette: She’s so fun to camp with!! She’s like… the best person to camp with. She always does the planning and researches everything there is to do at and near the campsite. She knows all the hiking trails nearby and what areas have service and which ones don’t. She knows which campsites have lake/river access. She also makes the best camp coffee. It’s really the only time she drinks coffee unless it’s like… finals week or she’s got an early flight or something. She also ALWAYS has to tell her dad where they’re going. She shares her location and route with him on the drive there and texts him to let him know she’s about to lose service and texts him the second she has a bar of service. He’s just very protective and she wants to make sure that he knows she’s safe. Plus if anything DOES happen he knows where she’s going and can come save the day.

Musichetta: She sleeps like the entire time she’s camping. She’ll wake up in the morning and move from her tent or the camper and go lay in one of the communal hammocks near the fire ring and doze off with her hot chocolate… which she has spilled a couple times. Once it warms up a little she’s walk down to the lake or river and lay down, get her tan on, and take a nap. One of her favorite things is to go on hikes with Combeferre. He’s one of the only people in the group that can keep up with her. If they go with other people usually by the time they reach the end of the trail the rest of the group is about 2 miles behind them. One of the best parts of camping for her is going home and showering after not showering for like 3 or 4 days.

Gavroche: Spends the entirety of the first day trying to find the perfect tree to put the perfect swing on. He also likes to try to find any big rocks near the campsite and go bouldering and run around on top of them. He still really has that childhood curiosity about everything and no fear. He’ll run off trail trying to find deer or elk. If he doesn’t get back home with a couple scratches or bruises he doesn’t consider it a good camping trip. He also will swim out to Bahorel’s paddle board and Bahorel will grab him out of the water and throw him back in. Gavroche thinks it’s the most fun thing in the world even though he’s growing really fast and it’s taking a little bit more muscle every year for Bahorel to throw him as far as Gav wants him to.

[niemernuet]

Wishing you very happy Holidays and a great start into the new year, dear @damn-d4niel. I hope Christmas Kilde will bring you many gifts, and everything you wished for. Me, as a lowly elf, just have a little fic in my bag. I read your answer to my asks, and tried myself at a little bit of Daniel/Halvor. I hope it's something you like.

Have a nice evening.

Love, Anja

I'll be coming for you anyway

After the greetings, and the somewhat choked questions about each other's well-being, and the proposition to maybe get going, and the exaggerated bustle of climbing into the car to indeed get going, an awkward silence spread between them as neither of them knew how to continue. It was as if they had unlearnt how to act around each other, and Halvor could not find the humour in that because it was a reminder that he had never visited Daniel since that spring-day in Planica. Not even once. He kept his eyes fixated on the road, and his fingers wrapped so hard around the wheel that his knuckles stood up white.

At first he had been totally against Marius' idea but now he was glad the rest of the team was waiting for them with a big surprise party at the hill. It would give him the chance to hide, something he desperately wished he could do right now.

Daniel eventually found a way to break the silence. "Can't wait to get back", he said to the window, staring at the trees and scattered houses whizzing by. When he turned his head to look at Halvor, he was smiling. Halvor did not move his eyes one inch but he would have recognised Daniel's smile in the darkest night.

"Yeah", Halvor managed. "We're all glad you're here again. It's just not the same without you."

"I bet", Daniel quipped, "It must have been hard without your gum-dispenser."

"Hey!", Halvor shot back. "You're much more than a bubble gum storage for us! We also missed you because you're the only one who always carries tissues around."

Daniel laughed, and his cheerfulness seemed to warm the car a few degrees. Halvor smiled, and for a second looked at him. He had missed Daniel so much, every day, more than he would have ever admitted.

"Thanks for your texts, by the way", Daniel continued, and the warmth in Halvor's chest disappeared instantly.

"Yeah…welcome", he stammered, "I just thought maybe you'd want to know how it's all going…and it was so busy with…stuff, and…" His voice got lower and lower while his cheeks burnt up.

Daniel nodded, either ignoring or not recognising Halvor's mortification. He was looking out the window again. "I liked hearing from you. You never treated me different."

Halvor held his breath, trying to decipher if he was supposed to give an answer. Meanwhile, Daniel was completely lost in his thoughts.

"Everyone else has been weird ever since the fall", he continued after a while. "As if I was a broken egg. Even the coaches think I'm just pretending that I want to jump again. It's as if they couldn't imagine…" He broke off, visibly irritated. "And don't get me started on all the stupid celebrations…I know everyone means well but if I have to smile and thank for one more welcome-back-banner I'm going to scream!"

Halvor laughed, as fake as he ever did in his life. "Yeah, I guess that gets old fast."

Daniel rolled his eyes, and grinned at him. "You have no idea. And they don't believe you when you say you're alright. I snapped once, and asked one of my aunts if she really thinks me such a brainless moron. I mean, we always know something could happen. It's part of life. Now it was my turn. So what? There's always a new elevator going up to the platform." He shook his head, and huffed softly.

"That must have gone over well", Halvor said though in his mind he was somewhere entirely different.

Daniel laughed. "Mum was livid." He looked at Halvor again, more fondly this time, if Halvor could gauge it from the corner of his eyes. "That's why I appreciated your texts. No bullshit, no stupid questions, just a friend when I needed you."

Halvor nodded, choking on the rising panic. "Yes, no bullshit from me. Ever." He tried to grasp the phone in his pocket but soon gave up. Daniel would have seen the text anyway. Ahead of them, just around the last turns of the road, the gigantic ski jumping hill reached into the sky. Normally, Halvor felt the excitement rise with every meter he came closer but not today. Slowly he turned onto the half-empty parking lot in front of the club centre. When he saw the colourful balloons poking out behind one of the windows however, he sped up again, and drove behind the building.

"Halvor…", Daniel began.

"So sorry", Halvor interrupted. "I just realised I forgot something." He stopped the car, and turned around in his seat. "It'll just be a minute, okay? I'll be right back but it's really important that you wait here."

"Halvor…", Daniel tried again but he was already running towards the back door as fast as he could. He took three steps at once to the first floor, and burst into the room they had prepared. Hooting and yelling greeted him but died down instantaneously when Halvor hurried to the banner and began tearing it down from the wall.

"What the fuck?" Marius exclaimed, and lowered his camera.

"Stop everything!" Halvor hissed, and stuffed the banner into one of the cabinets lining the room. "Help me! Come on!"

"Halvor, what's going on?" Fanni asked tentatively.

Halvor took a deep breath, turned around, and explained.

_________

"Do you think he's…different?"

Ryoyu adjusted the mask over his nose, and looked up from his phone. "What?"

"Do you think Dani's different…than he used to be?" Killian repeated.

Halvor bristled at Killian's careless words but he kept his head down, and pretended not to hear him from his place at the other end of the bench. He had to focus on his first jump, and could not afford to get worked up now.

"Like…from the fall?" Ryoyu asked.

Killian shrugged, eyes fixated on Daniel who was waiting in the queue to the elevator. "Don't know…the fall or the…well, fallout. Somethings' just different, with him and the team."

Ryoyu snorted. "The team's alright if you ask me."

Killian waved him off. "Not their performance. They just seem so distant with each other. Something happened."

Ryoyu shrugged again, and turned his attention back to his phone. "Whatever", he muttered, Killian's words already forgotten.

Halvor, meanwhile, kept thinking about them until his head felt like bursting. He wanted to punch Killian, or himself. Maybe both. Killian, because he was right, and apparently not half as dense as he let on, and Halvor, because he had ruined everything he had ever had with Daniel. And he could only blame himself. The door to the elevator opened, and Daniel stepped inside. He waved at Halvor when their eyes met. Halvor nodded but it was too late, and the door had closed.

One of the coaches stepped to him, and tapped him on the shoulder. "You're next."

Halvor nodded, trying to steady his breathing. He should have focused on his first jump, instead he thought about Daniel, and his fall, and the way he had abandoned Daniel when he had needed him most. It was still occupying his mind when he sat on the bench, and looked down at Klingenthal. He knew his jump would be shit. But it was not like he did not deserve it.

Halvor was still gasping for air when Ryoyu landed on the ground but he screamed and jumped with the rest of the team as they swarmed Daniel. Their voices carried through the empty arena and made up for the missing thousands of spectators who should have cheered the return of Daniel. He still seemed in disbelief, as if he feared it might not be true after all, and only started to smile when the silver medal hung around his neck. Halvor clapped with the rest of them, ignoring the sharp pain in his chest. Nobody deserved it more than Daniel, and nobody would ruin this night. Halvor would make sure of it. They returned to their hotel, and took over the bar. When Fanni jumped on one of the tables and started another round of cheering for Daniel, Halvor excused himself to nobody in particular, and slunk back to his room.

He was in bed, too soft for his taste, mindlessly scrolling through an app on his phone, when he heard a knock at the door. He did not feel like opening but when the knocking persisted, he sighed, threw back the covers, and walked to the door.

"I'm sorry!" Daniel said, and pushed inside.

Halvor stumbled back, too surprised for words. "Wha…?"

"Please let me talk!" Daniel urged, and held up his hands. Halvor stared at him while Daniel fought for words. "I'm sorry", he choked. "I really am. I didn't think you'd plan something, and I was so stupid to say these things. I didn't really see it then but I understand now that nobody did it to annoy me. They…they were just happy, I guess."

Halvor still looked at Daniel, unable to move. "What?"

Daniel smiled at him with painful sadness. "I know you planned a surprise-party for my return, back in the summer. I saw the balloons in the window. I'm sorry I was such an idiot, I didn't want to hurt you. Please, can we go back to the way we were? I miss our talks."

Halvor's breath hitched, and he blinked. "It…it wasn't my idea", he eventually managed. "Marius came up with it. I thought it was stupid, to be honest."

Daniel's mouth flew open, and now it was his turn to stare at Halvor while Halvor looked everywhere but at the one thing in the world he wanted so much.

"I just…I didn't dare to visit you", Halvor whispered. "I was so afraid, and I didn't know…and then when you came back, and said all these things about my stupid texts. I should…it wasn't fair to leave you alone." A dry sob escaped his lips when Daniel stepped closer, and pulled him into a hug. Halvor buried his face in Daniel's shoulder, soaking in the warmth he had missed so much.

"Sometimes we're just too stupid", Daniel muttered, his fingers combing through Halvor's hair.

Halvor laughed. "Sometimes?"

[ferret-not-microwave]

Les Amis Modern AU: What They Wish Others Believed About Them (Part 5)

[I kind of wrote this in response to some general trends in characterising the Amis. There are some stereotypes which I'm not quite comfortable with.]

[Hey, y'all! I'm so sorry for not posting this series for a long time, I was flattened for the past 12 days by COVID-19. We have Cosette and Marius today, and I'm so glad that I am feeling better enough to write about them. Cheerio!]

Cosette:

• Is fed up of being considered dainty, fragile, weak and excessively nice, a bit of a pushover. She is anything but. Living with crappy foster parents don't really let you do that. She can stand up against bullshit with biting sarcasm if necessary. It's just that Cosette doesn't rise to the bait very easily, because she has trained herself to ignore battles which don't need her attention. But that doesn't mean that she needs to be protected all the time.

• Is sick of having to relate her childhood traumas in order to not be judged as being a privileged airhead. Cosette likes buying nice things. She likes fashion, and she has some habits from Catholic school, still. She spends a lot of money on her friends and loved ones. She is sunshiney and injects bougie humour and fun into meetings. That doesn't mean that she knows nothing about the shitty world, and that she doesn't actively try to make ethical choices in her consumer behaviour and social commitments. She really dislikes the "Ohhhhh" moment coming from someone judging her for her privilege when someone tells her story to them. Why presume that people are shitty for no reason, damnit?

• Is sick of being mistaken as straight. On one memorable Pride, she was called "straight passing". She dislikes the term immensely. She thinks that people do not have the liberty to immediately assume that she is heterosexual because Marius is her partner. Similarly, people do not get to assume her sexuality because she presents stereotypically femme.

• She feels insecure and uncomfortable when people fix too much attention on her in relation to someone else, as if to scrutinize her. It happened twice amongst the Amis, once when Marius introduced her as his crush for the first time, and once when they came to know that she and Eponine knew each other since childhood, and that Eponine's parents were her abusive foster parents. She likes it better if she were befriended for being herself.

• She feels a little frustrated that people didn't get her conflicting feelings towards Eponine. People immediately assumed that she forgave and forgot everything Eponine had done or said when they were children, in her "characteristically sweet way". Actually, the first time she saw Eponine, her fear reared its ugly head again and she almost ran out of the Musain. There was much dancing around Eponine (who seemed worn out and super uncomfortable as well) and it is only with Marius and Courfeyrac's help that Cosette could start a conversion with Eponine. She did it not be particularly forgiving (though she eventually forgave her anyway), but because she needed to leave her emotional baggage behind and move on.

• A large part of Cosette's forgiveness towards Eponine was fuelled by the knowledge of Eponine's own abuse at her parents' hands. As someone who had faced quite a bit of the same abuse, she needed to put her foot down. Cosette was extremely angry about it, and her anger made sure that Eponine could separate from her parents faster, and eventually get custody of her siblings.

• She hates, hates, hates it when people remind her that she's lucky to get an adoptive father like Valjean particularly after she has a row with him. Just because her foster parents were shitty doesn't mean that she cannot speak against some of Valjeans imperfections! And children often disagree with their parents. She doesn't need to be dampened with the idea that she should basically think Valjean to be perfect because of her past. She is fiercely loyal to Valjean, and doesn't need anyone to test that.

• Cosette is protective of Marius. No one gets to mow Marius over with judgements and snide comments. In fact, Marius found himself being not so much the butt of jokes anymore after Cosette teaches him to stand up for himself. At the same time, Cosette does not helicopter parent Marius. She does tease him within limits, and does not usually interfere when he has disagreements with the Amis. It is a fine balance which does exhaust her sometimes.

• Cosette can be mischievous, even impish. She can land punches (whether they hurt or not doesn't matter), ace paintball/mudslinging matches, play the best pranks on April Fool's Day and curse like a sailor if needed. She is especially proud of the wide-eyed look she still gets from some of the Amis at her antics. She can also get people out of trouble faster than you can say "bail".

Marius:

• Marius feels scared of being judged. It is really, really difficult to understand your own privilege when you come from a super rich, super bigoted family (read grandfather). He has taken lots of embarrassing knocks and call-outs every day till now, but he is learning, and learning fast. The Amis know, and for them he isn't some peripheral person anymore, but an integral part. But sometimes he wakes up with nightmares of being kicked out as a wokeboi and a fraud by the whole group. He often stumbles over his words because he panics that maybe what he is trying to say is problematic. It takes him months to take any initiative in the Amis because he suffers from imposter syndrome all the time.

• Marius hid all information about his favourites (he loves strawberry rosé macarons and silver needle tea, for instance) because he thought that he would be judged as a rich brat. Funnily, it was Ferre who had figured these out and was the first Amis to give him a small tea chest and a box of macarons as a birthday gift (followed closely by Courf and Jehan with a huge birthday party). It took time for Marius to understand that just because he got a bit panned for his political opinions the first time, it doesn't mean that the Amis hate him.

• Quite unlike popular belief, Marius and Ferre do get along very well. They share a lot of niche interests (poring over etymology dictionaries and having a love of museums and trivia nights). They did discuss that first "to be free" moment, and Marius had placed his request to be given more chances to undo his problematic stances. (There was also another "to be free" moment that had left Ferre stunned, but it's a them thing). It hurts Marius when people immediately think that he's probably annoying Ferre when they hang out.

• Marius is not stupid. Please. The whole idea people have that he is stupid because of his awkwardness and shyness is plain mean at times. No, he doesn't need to be talked to slowly, like talking to a child. Whenever he has the courage, he brings up a lot of valid points in Musain meetings. He is extremely resourceful in handling money and talks with boring rich people, and fundraisers have never been better without him. He is juggling a double Masters degree with internships and volunteer services, and picks up languages at the drop of a hat (including Elvish).

• Marius has also had that dangerous phase when, in a bid to be as radical as possible, he fell into trouble way too many times. Even the most even-tempered of them all (read Jehan) has outright cried in exasperation on finding Marius glaring at a policeman in a protest, promising to burn the place down with a flare if they didn't back off from hitting protestors. Marius has similarly taken punches and hits, and there was a time when Joly would hover around him to administer first aid as quickly as possible. It took Enj and R a whole day to explain to him the merits of self-preservation and that revolution today does not necessarily involve a militant loss of life.

• Marius has also that phase when he drove a college sophomore to tears with his radical speech. Aka attacking the heck out of the kid's problematic Facebook post. Cosette had to give him a talk. Marius is learning about how to be a zealous but kind activist every day.

[angelaiswriting]

Undercover | Bandit x fem!reader

[video by Yogendra Singh from Pexels]

✏️ Pairing: Bandit x fem!reader

✏️ Summary: In which Dominic realizes he's fallen too hard for a woman during an undercover mission and he doesn't think he's fit to work for Rainbow anymore.

🎁 A/N: I wrote this for @kind-wolf​‘s birthday but she gave me the okay to post it, so hopefully y’all will enjoy it too 💛

✏️ Warnings: slight angst, 18+ only? idk (the sex is generally only implied but there are some paragraphs in which it’s a little less implied), also a dash of fluff?

✏️ Word-count: 11,555

UNDERCOVER

There was something about early-morning runs that just calmed his nerves, even with music blasting in his ears. There was something in the way his trainers would rhythmically slap against the ground; something in the burning in his lungs, in the way the wind would blow against his face every now and then…

The British countryside expanded to infinity on his runs and it erased anything Hereford Base inevitably brought along—training sessions, mission calls, even more simulations, and then endless tests to pieces of equipment that he surely had not missed while on his last undercover mission.

He didn’t think much about it. About the mission. He always tried his best not to, although he did so unconsciously, probably more out of habit than anything else. It was never easy, to go back to a daily routine that didn’t feel yours anymore, to a routine you couldn’t recognize after having pretended to be someone else for the past six years. Some things just get to your head at some point, and going back to who you had once been feels like being reborn completely, and into someone you can’t recognize. You wake up one day, and you find yourself being forced to put on yet another mask, with the only exception that this is no mask. This is your face. Who you are. Or who you’re supposed to be, at least.

And although most likely unprofessional, this was how Dominic Brunsmeier still felt, six months after his mission had come to its end. He woke up every day and for the first, endless minutes he simply lied there, staring at a ceiling he had problems recognizing, with the reality that he was thousands of miles away from Germany hanging like Damocles’ sword above his head. His ears still subconsciously strained for the sound of two dogs’ nails ticking against the tiles of the floor to come to say good morning, and his left hand still stretched out to feel for someone who wasn’t there—who would never be there again.

That’s why running helped. It emptied his mind—and it also filled his lungs with the smell of wet grass and dirt. And although he still turned around to check behind his back every few minutes in search for furry snouts—one of the habits he had developed in the past life he had been forced to leave behind—, it was getting better, and the music in his ear pods seemed to be starting to do the trick.

Sometime later, when he got back to the Base, he was somewhat ready to be a Rainbow operator once again. At least for that day.

The truth was, he had somehow grown almost detached from anything and anyone Rainbow. He would do something, and then he’d mentally compare it to how he did it before. The way his morning coffee would taste; the way her laundry detergent would smell fresh and somehow cozy; how peaceful car trips would feel, almost as though he could lose himself into one of them for the rest of his life. Now his coffee was just Marius’s boring blend, and the detergent they used in the laundry at the base had no scent. And when he did end up tagging along on short weekend trips, there was no dog whining ecstatically in the back of the car and trying to lick his neck.

“How was your run?”

Monika was looking at him from above the file she was reading—a mission report, a test session report, he didn’t know and he also found himself not caring. That life still felt alien to him.

He shrugged. “Good.” He had somehow become a man of few words, and he had also started to realize that maybe undercover missions weren’t for him. Not anymore, at least. Maybe he had let this one get to him a bit too much, and everyone he had met had grown under his skin without him wanting so and he still did somehow feel like he had betrayed his family, sent them all to jail.

It was a stupid thought—he tried to remind himself of that every time that feeling came up, but maybe he just wasn’t cut for long undercover missions anymore. He didn’t remember when it had become difficult to tell right from wrong, but it had happened, and every time his mind stopped on that period of his life, he found himself growing homesick for a home he never had, not there.

“Just good?” 

Elias was there, too. Of fucking course, he would be there. He had been keeping an eye on him for a few weeks now, and Dominic was too much of an expert not to notice. It hadn’t been a surprise to see him enter the kitchen a minute or two after he had.

“Just good,” he nodded

There was some staring, then. Dominic stared at Elias because he wanted to be left alone, and Elias stared at Dominic because he wanted to understand what the problem was, so that he could help his friend. It was all useless, though, and they both knew it: one had closed off too securely to let on anything—or let anyone in, and the other was too stubborn to just stop caring about someone he loved.

That afternoon, though, he was running some errands in town with Marius when a dog stopped right in front of him to sniff his pants. It was a lovely animal, with fur of an almost bronze-red color and a tail that never once stopped wagging.

It brought him back in time, and for a moment he stood there, frozen and rooted to the spot. He could almost still feel the rain on his skin despite that exceptionally bright sunny day. But then, the Irish setter’s owner called Bonnie, let’s go! and Dominic was back to the present day, a bag with stuff he had bought at the hardware store just on the other side of the parking lot in one hand and a bunch of keys in the other.

“Everything alright with you?” Marius asked when Dominic reached him. He had been waiting for him, leaning against the door of the truck, and he hadn’t missed the way his friend had grown rigid. It didn’t matter how much pride Dom felt at the idea of being good at hiding feelings: there was always someone that saw right through his shit. And called him out on it.

“I used to have two dogs,” he blurted out with a smile on his face before he could stop himself. They were both loading bags into the trunk of the car and he hadn’t even felt the words slip through his lips that they were already out there in the open. But the memory had hit him with the same force of a freight train, and he had found himself basking in that warm feeling that had started to blossom inside him at the memory. After all, he loved those two pests like his own kids.

He looked up, the feeling of being caught red-handed quickly seeping in, and he found that Marius had a weird look in his eyes as he watched his every move.

“You had two dogs?” his friend quoted, one hand reaching up for the back door of the car. He closed it shut, and the frown didn’t leave his face for a second. “Back during your mission, you mean?”

“Forget about it. It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have said it in the first place.” It had always been custom for him to not open up about his undercovers—the person he was when he was on one wasn’t the person he was when he came back to his real life, and that’s how things had to be.

“To hell with your bullshit!”

The first five minutes in the car, however, were spent in silence.

Dominic was still cursing himself mentally for opening his damn mouth—or his memory vault, for what it mattered. It had been the first time he had mentioned anything about her since his return—his return home his friends had cheered him with six months ago, but that homely feeling still had to make an appearance. She had become taboo, and he had done so to protect her—and himself, in a way, for not having to bring her up had seemed to be the most sensible way to forget all about her, at least back then.

But now here he was, catching himself just in time before worsening his case.

“Where are those dogs now?” Marius used the excuse of a red streetlight to speak again and when Dominic looked at him from the corner of his eye, he found his friend already staring.

A shrug of his shoulders will do the trick, or that was what he hoped. Unsuccessfully.

“You’ve barely put full sentences together outside of missions since you came back from Germany. And now you mention two dogs. That you owned, apparently.”

“I didn’t own them, they weren’t mine,” he corrected.

“Whose were they, then?”

*

The first time Dominic sees her is on a chilly early-April morning. It’s pouring rain outside, and she’s walking two dogs with nothing to shield her from the rain but an old sweatshirt.

It’s half past five in the morning and his first thought is: What the fuck is this girl doing out here in the rain?

He almost slows down his truck when he drives past her. Probably he should be a good person and ask her if she needs a ride, but this side of town is new to him and he doesn’t want to risk anything that would have Fabian put him on his boss’ black book the month after having been fully accepted into the gang.

She’s in his rearview mirror before he has the chance to think his civilized deed through. He finds himself staring for two seconds at most—red sweatshirt, jean shorts that are a tad bit out of season now, and two happy dogs that walk on either side of her without the need for a leash. Then, he’s pulling over and stopping the truck right before the closed garage door of his new two-bedroom house. He still has to fix it—along with other things inside—but Christian has been keeping him busy with errands and whatnot, and he’s lacked the time.

He’s barely out of the vehicle when there’s barking—short, quick barks in succession coming from two different dogs, defying the sound of the rain and the otherwise silence of the early morning. When he turns around, the girl’s dogs are running across the empty street, their owner right behind them, and they’re aiming at him, tails wagging happily and tongues lolling out from open mouths.

They don’t jump up as he expected them to, but they still do take their few seconds of freedom to sniff him up. His shoes, his legs, a hand—and all the while he’s getting soaked through just as much as the girl running over with two leashes in a hand is.

“Hey, buddy,” he coos, almost involuntarily, as he presents the bigger dog with the open palm of his left hand.

It looks like a nice mutt, the fur a shade of brown streaked with white and black, and it excitedly licks his skin after a moment of indecision.

“I’m so sorry.” When he looks up, the young woman is panting, a hand on her side as the other comes up to wipe the rain from her eyes. “C’mon, Otto, come here.”

The white dog with a chocolate-colored stain on the left side of his face is quickly put on his leash, and he sits still by his owner’s feet as she pries Rex from his hand.

“I’m sorry they’ve bothered you,” she offers, and then groans when she can’t seem to attach the leash to the ring in the dog’s collar. “They’re usually well-behaved.”

“No problem,” he smiles.

Rex lunges forward one last time to get a good-bye caress on his head before he eventually chooses to behave and steps back.

“They didn’t do anything but smell me up a bit, it’s all cool.”

She smiles. He smiles. Rex barks happily and turns back to nudge Otto, and both their tails are wild whips against the soaked grass-less ground of his short driveway. Then, she’s gone.

He stares as she runs down the street, thunder finally rolling up high in the steely sky, and he smiles when he hears her laugh and call for the dogs when the rain starts pouring stronger. Then he turns, walks around the back of his truck and up to his door, and leaves the world outside.

*

That night Dominic sat at the desk in his room. His things had been relocated to a smaller one while he had been away on his mission and although he would have probably complained once, he found that this new accommodation somehow suited him better now. It felt much more secluded and since it was in the newly-built dorm area where his buddies didn’t reside, it felt much calmer. It didn’t give him much need to lie.

And it didn’t give his friends the chance to see that most of his stuff was still in cardboard boxes he had yet to unpack. The mere thought seemed to overwhelm him somehow and even that night, all he did was stare at them for endless minutes before eventually begrudgingly opening his laptop.

The brief and vague chat with Marius that afternoon had given him that sort of push he needed to finally pull out the hard disks and SD cards he had hidden away but that still contained all the files he had to organize. It was nothing major, of course—that kind of stuff had been transferred onto Rainbow servers the moment he had set foot onto British ground, one could say. But he still had private stuff, videos and photographs he had never thought he’d one day keep, back when he had first taken them, but then again, here he was.

Part of his brain did know that wasn’t the smart thing to do, but when he plugged in the black hard disk with that owl sticker she had slapped on it one night after tipsy sex, he found that his hand hesitated on the mouse.

He had chuckled—even now, he could still hear the sound in the otherwise quiet room. It had been at the beginning of that thing that had slowly—and then more and more quickly, like an avalanche effect of some sort—turned into a relationship. Why? he had simply asked, putting his lighter back on the nightstand when she gave it a disgusted look. And she had laughed, too, and he had stared at her sweaty skin glistening in the light of his bedside lamp, at the way her messy bangs stuck to her forehead, and he thought that fuck, what the fuck was he doing? Because I felt like it, she had answered with a shrug and he had laughed deep in his chest before pulling her back over his body.

Maybe he could keep what was in there. He did not have to look, but maybe he’d keep those files stored away in some folder-in-a-folder kind of thing, hidden away from his eyes and hopefully from his mind, until he’d forget all about them. Until he’d stop being a spineless dick, murmured a mean voice in the back of his head.

“Fuck it!” he groaned, finally opening the main folder and watching as his old laptop loaded everything.

There were some pictures he had never stored away in their respective folders, and he suddenly remembered now that it was because he loved them. Loved those two dogs piled up on each other as they slept in his armchair. And loved the way she’d scream song lyrics using an almost-empty beer bottle as a microphone.

Those were memories—and damn good memories at that! There was no reason to shy away from them. Just as a reminder, he reasoned—something to keep for a long time so that it could remind him to keep his head on his shoulders next time he’d be assigned on some other undercover mission. Something that could tell him not to fall for a chick he’d eventually have to leave behind forever. Something that could prove to him that yes, he could enjoy things while living a lie, but that no, there were things he could not bring back home.

Like Rex and Otto.

Or like Y/N.

*

He meets her again two weeks later, when Fabian drags him along to a club to have fun and maybe get some pussy. Dominic’s not exactly in the mood for pussy for once, still exhausted after having come back from a quick ‘business trip’ to Austria with two other guys, but he doesn’t want to be the buzzkill. He’s also not been in the city long enough, so he’d rather fly low and not risk making even the slightest doubt arise.

So he goes. He dresses up in an all-black combo of pants and shirt, and meets his friend outside one of the clubs Christian owns. The air is warm, and the night traffic buzzes behind his back as Fabian leads him all the way up to the entrance while recounting the weird-ass trip Alex had the first time he did acid. Domi laughs along in all the right points and for a split second, before Julian lets them in without a question, he finds himself thinking that it isn’t so hard after all, to pretend to be someone he’s not every time Fabian’s around. The dude is chill, five or so years younger than he but just as crazy, and there’s this tiny voice in Dominic’s head that seems to whisper to him that they could actually be great pals if the situation and the setting were different.

“What’s your poison?” his friend of sorts asks as he takes him through the place and then to a table—not right up under the stage, but a bit in the back.

“Just beer,” is his reply. He didn’t think he’d be seeing girls perform when he left his house, but now that he’s here and he gets a glimpse of a redhead beauty before she disappears offstage, he’s not exactly opposed.

Fabian’s face is contorted into a grimace of confusion before it opens up into a grin as things seem to clear up in his head. “Oh, yeah, as a warm-up, I see!”

He laughs, leaning back against the seat before he shakes his head. “One of us gotta stay sober enough to take you home when you’re shit-faced,” he bites back, subtly implying to that one time, three months after Dom had officially become a rookie, when Fabian had ridden himself into a tree on his bike. The others had made him look after and take care of the younger idiot, and he had had to swallow down his pride and cater to any and all silly needs he had been presented with and that had felt like a setback in his undercover path.

A girl hurries by then, a serving platter with drinks in hand as she flags down another waitress and mouths something over the music of the new performance, and Fabian is quick at grabbing a hold of her forearm. When she turns around, an expression on her face that makes it clear she would be more than ready to throw hands, it takes Dominic half a minute to recognize her in this new setting.

“Come back to us later, Baby,” Fabian says, his hand moving to swat at her ass before she grabs a hold of it and presses down hard enough to make him wince.

“Don’t make me kick your ass.”

Dominic turns around when she walks past him and watches as she serves drinks at a table. She’s all smiles as she replies back to something she’s being told, and steps back a little when one of the men tries to stretch a hand out and touch her.

“Is that how you act with women?” he asks when he turns back around.

His friend laughs over a text he’s sending—probably to one of the other guys they’re supposed to meet here tonight, or probably to someone else entirely—Dominic does wonder about it, just as he wonders about many things when it comes to the Club, but he voices none of his thoughts. He never does.

“It’s not what you think,” he shrugs, grinning at him before glancing at the brunette performing on stage. He stares for a long while, and Dominic has the time to study some more of the details in the snake tattoo that crawls up the side of his neck and disappears into his hair. “She’s a friend.”

“She’s still not excited about you slapping her butt, though,” the girl in question chimes in when she finally reaches their table again, her serving platter now held securely against her abdomen. “But Fabian’s— Hey!” she grins, stopping mid-sentence when she seems to recognize him from that rainy early morning of fifteen or so days ago. “You’re the new guy on the block.”

“You know each other?”

“Sorta. The boys ran up to him when we were on a walk a few days ago,” she nods, eyes trailing down to where Domi’s left the first two buttons of his shirt undone, tattoos on full display underneath, before moving back to meet his.

Fabian’s pout distracts the both of them, and when she sets her eyes on him, he’s quick at letting out a childish complaint. “You never smile at me like that.”

“Don’t be a douche.” And then, to Dominic: “I’ll pay you real money if you drag him out of here.”

“Geez, women!” Fabian scoffs. “Anyway. Nic, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Dominic.” He watches briefly as they shake hands before continuing. “She’s off-limits, unless she’ll somehow consider you worthy enough of her and her p— I’m just kidding, Angel!” he pleads, leaning away from her hand as she slaps at his shoulder. “C’mon, be a good girl.”

“You be a good boy and I might not spit in your drink.”

Dominic’s still thinking about her sometime later, after some of the guys have joined him and his company for tonight. They’re watching girls perform, but he’s unfocused. Even the beer in his hand has been forgotten for a while now, as his gaze finds itself being attracted back to the bar—or to wherever she is at the moment.

He stares, and even blatantly so, half listening to Fabian’s words echoing in his mind, and half ignoring them. She’s close to Christian, that’s what he knows: she used to be his sister’s best friend before the girl passed away a few years after finishing high school. And, as Fabian has half-heartedly complained more than once, she’s not that friendly with gang members—if you know what I mean, Nic. Not that he’s thinking about that with her! He barely even knows her. What he does know, however, is that there’s a file, back at Rainbow, that he has to fill with pieces of information he finds out here, and he’s starting to wonder what she could know.

And sometimes—every once in a while and almost covertly—she glances back and meets his eye, and when she finds him staring, she seems to stumble over her words for a heartbeat before the smile is back on her face and she turns her attention back to whatever patron she’s tending to.

He’s back the next Friday night, and the week after that, and on the third week, it starts becoming a habit. Fabian’s with him sometimes; sometimes it’s someone else, but more often—because he starts hanging out at the club on whatever free nights he has during the week—he goes on his own. He drinks, spends money on women, and goes as far as paying for personal dances—and maybe it becomes a bit too often, because one day Christian asks him—through Alex, because Christian’s too busy with a rival gang to do it in person—and mentions something about it.

But the more he sits in there, the closer he somehow seems to get to Y/N—and the closer she seems to get to him. It’s just smiles at first; even when he goes up to the bar to order drinks, she’s always too busy to focus on him only. But then they start exchanging a few words—and in the meantime they wave at each other from opposite sides of the road they live on, when they pass by—and then a few puns, until at some point, probably three, almost four months into his habitual trips to the club, she starts actively seeking him out. And if by any chance he’s absent on one of his regular nights, he finds her politely asking whether everything’s alright on the first night he’s back.

*

He missed that—missed his club nights and the dancers, even the waitresses. Y/N, of course, although he always did his best not to allow his brain to bring her up. But sometimes, out of the blue, the most random things would make one of the many memories he had stored away out of sight resurface and he found himself thinking about her. It would start subconsciously—with something someone said or did, or maybe it was something he saw in the window of a shop, or in one of the girls he’d find himself dancing with when his friends dragged him along. And then, when he caught himself red-handed, it was hard to stop. His brain would fixate on a memory and the more he willed himself to shift the focus of his attention onto something—anything—else, the harder it was to actually do it.

So, he turned his strategy around. He did that when he transferred all his secreted files onto his laptop—and then onto a new one yet again, when the old thing slowed down too much for him to be able to do work-related things on it. The reasoning was, if he kept those memories where he could easily reach them, then maybe they’d lose that hue of exceptionality and he’d get so used to them that it would finally be easier to coexist with them and all they had once meant.

And the next time Marius asked, tried to pull things out of him the same way he’d done with shards of glass after that one assignment in Bosnia, Dominic found himself loosening up. With him only, no one else for the time being, but it still felt liberating. Marius would listen, and he wouldn’t try to guilt-trip him the same way Domi had done to himself. He’d listen, and chime in every now and then, and then he’d stop asking when it was clear his friend wasn’t comfortable with continuing for now.

Y/N hadn’t come up yet. He told him about the dogs, and the guys—about Fabian most of all, and Markus, the two he had bonded with the most. He talked about the club—and he won’t lie, about the women there and the ones he had ended up in bed or against a wall with, as well. Not many, but enough to make Marius tease him for a while before he eventually relented.

But then one day, when most operators had been sent off on various missions, they decided to go on a trip. They took a Jeep car, loaded it with backpacks and food and tents, and took off for a week to spend camping far from the Base.

It had been quite a long couple of months—with training and simulations and tests, and even weeks spent abroad. And meetings in Harry’s office so that the Agency could see where Dominic’s loyalty lied, and how he was doing, how he was settling back into his old routine, now almost ten months after having come back from Germany. Which he… was, in a way. Settling back into his old routine, that is—everything was normal when he was working, at least.

But opening up to his Director wasn’t the same as opening up to his friend. And probably even Harry knew, or had at least come to that conclusion, for he had relented in his questions and had given him more free time, away from his Rainbow responsibilities.

“So, you were telling me about Fabian the other day.”

Marius’s voice shook him out of his thoughts, and Dominic found himself blinking a couple of times at the pale light of the sun that still had to fully rise. He felt almost as though he had dozed off, his tongue still heavy and laced with the slumber he had been forced to wake up from at two.

“What?” he mumbled, fumbling with his seat belt when he realized his friend had parked the car and it was now time to get out.

He had been sleeping poorly the past few days, with endless thoughts incessantly mulling around in his mind and keeping him awake. Stuff about Germany, but also stuff about Rainbow—missions and briefings and that upgrade he was helping Elias come up with for his shield. It all slowed him down, left him less reactive than he had been in a while, always dozing off when he was supposed to do something else. Even his morning runs had stopped being that nice a distraction.

The cup of coffee Marius pushed into his hands was hot, almost comforting in a way, and it sent a shiver throughout his whole body as they stood there, in the low, late-March temperatures. It was supposed to get warmer as the day progressed, or so the forecasts seemed to promise, and he surely found himself hoping for that to be the case.

“You were saying about how Fabian introduced you to this Angel dude,” Jäger insisted sometime later, when they had heaved their backpacks on their backs and locked the Jeep. They’d be back in a week—or that was the plan, but they both knew that if the weather would take a turn for the worst, they’d be back much sooner, neither of them willing to deal with storms and cold temperatures when they could feel warm somewhere else.

“Angel’s not a dude,” was Dominic’s chuckle.

The sun had finally risen and its light, although still pale, filtered in through the foliage of the forest, casting shapes on the ground and on their faces alike. The temperatures had gone up a bit, but Dom was still glad he had listened to Lera’s advice and had taken off with thermal clothes on.

“Angel is— was,” he quickly corrected himself, casting a quick glance at Marius, walking by his side, “my girlfriend… I guess.”

“You guess?” His friend frowned, not even taking his eyes off of the path they were currently trekking on. They still had quite a few kilometers to go before their next stop and he had absolutely no intention of spending them in silence, not now that Dominic seemed like he had slowly regained his ability to talk and let his tongue loose, although not in everyone’s company. But progress was progress, and he didn’t want to risk and ruin it.

Dominic shrugged. “I’m not sure Y/N and I ever officially defined the relationship.”

“Y/N… Angel, you mean?”

“Yeah, we called her that most of the time. Those dogs I told you about… they were hers.”

Marius nodded. Dominic had started to introduce him to bits and pieces of his undercover life—the clubs, the gang, the dogs, the speed races at night, the way Fabian would often crash on his couch when his partying got too wild and out-of-hand, or the way Markus, three years his junior, would often trail behind him like a lost puppy. It was never a chronological recollection of events, with some kind of thread that would link them together. Sometimes he’d ask questions, making sure to remain as vague as possible when it came to enquiring about someone’s life, and Domi would reply with what came to mind.

But now… Now he had slowly started to piece all those memories together, bit by bit, and he was seeing that it was not all black and white, the way some back at the Organization would make it out to be, but more like grayscale. The good and the bad would mix together in the same bowl, and it would make it hard for anybody to draw absolutes.

“Tell me something about her.”

*

Dominic’s sitting in Christian’s backyard for the first time in two years and a half. It’s something new, but at the same time it feels so familiar, in a weird and convoluted way, as he’s surrounded by people he knew nothing about just three years ago. He laughs at what his friends say, and even whistles with them when the girl Fabian has shown up with leaves in a hurry after printing the fingers of her left hand across his cheek.

“You truly can’t keep them for more than a week, can you?” Christian laughs, taking a sip from his beer as he and Marcel flip the meat on the barbeque.

Fabian groans. “Always pointing out the details, gee. Anyway!”

Some bickering ensues, and Dominic sits back against the seat of his plastic chair with the rim of his beer bottle grazing his lower lip, barely containing his laughter, but still trying his best because he’s usually the one taking Fabian’s sides—even if just out of pure sarcasm.  It all only settles when Franziska walks out of the house, a bowl of salad in each hand, saying something about leaving the poor child alone, what are you? Five? before Marcel pulls her into his side for a kiss.

They’re cute—it’s a weird and intrusive thought as Dominic watches, eyes glinting with a badly concealed smile, but it’s also the truth. Franziska and Marcel are like opposite sides of the same coin, but they somehow fit so well together… He’d tell Marius that, years after that day, and he’d recall the way she’d look up into her lover’s eyes with such emotion that, before Y/N came along, it would have made him feel the pangs of jealousy stab his stomach.

“Ugh, lovebirds.” Markus rolls his eyes, and when Dominic turns his head to look at him, he adds a snort and a wave of his hand.

“Kids.” Marcel shakes his head at Domi, almost as though he knows just how Markus and Fabian can get, and Dominic’s the one who’s spending the most time with them. “Always moaning about what they don’t have.”

But no one’s that serious. They all sort of envy what Marcel has, but they cherish it most of all, and although there’s often some playful mocking during gatherings, Marcel still knows they’d all jump in front of his woman without batting an eyelash if that meant keeping her safe.

There’s commotion coming from inside the house, then. The old dog that had been snoozing by Christian’s feet lifts her head, barking low in the back of her throat, still sleepy, before two dogs dash outside and she’s suddenly chasing them on her three paws, long fluffy tail wagging.

The guys cheer the new-comers and although the white one—it takes Dom a while to recognize Otto, Angel’s dog—jumps and huffs to play with Christian’s Stella, the loud and cheering voices send the other one in a frenzy. Rex runs back and forth, tail wagging as hard as a whip, tongue two meters out of his snout. And it’s such a hilarious sight that it sends Dominic laughing with his other friends as the dog almost trips Eva and that jar of cold lemonade over.

Then, when Dominic’s regained enough breath to stop the wheezing and wipe the tears from his eyes with a hand, he calls him over. “Hey, Rex! C’mere!”

He has no time to see the surprise flash across his friends’ faces, for it’s all downhill from there. Rex stops dead in his tracks, front paws down on the grass to his elbows and butt up in the air, his tail still wagging wildly—and really, he doesn’t know how he hasn’t sprained it yet, or how he hasn’t taken off like in some cartoon. His head turns here and there for half a second before his caramel eyes zero in on him. Before Dominic has the time to beg Stop!, the dog is on him: The impact sends his empty beer bottle flying backward as the chair tips back, a leg snaps, and he’s suddenly half-laying, half-sitting almost horizontally with an ecstatic Rex licking his face and his beard, barely able to keep still in his arms.

The other two dogs are quick to join them, and before Dominic can turn his head to the side and see the way Christian kisses Y/N’s cheek hello or hear the way she groans out a fuck! before she can intervene, two more wet snouts blind and sniff at him.

Sometime later, as Markus is complaining under his breath about the ladies’ ‘rabbit food’, Dominic turns towards Fabian and half-says, half-asks: “I thought she didn’t do members.”

“Huh?” Fabian looks up from where he’s stuffing his face with pork ribs and Franziska’s salad, moaning for a second about how much I love fucking onions, God. But he’s quick at looking where Domi’s quick tilt of the head is pointing.

Y/N and Christian are sitting next to each other, heads close as they discuss something before she feels them staring and sends them a quick smile.

“Oh, no. No.” Fabian coughs as he tries not to choke on his food when he picks up with what Dom’s implying—Jeez, no, shit, Angel and Christian? He laughs, still breathless, and chugs down the glass of lemonade Verena’s poured him. “Nah, she’s like a sister to him. Same for her. It was hard for a while after Mia’s death. The gang…” But he shrugs, cuts himself off and trails his gaze back down on his plate. “It was rough. And they’ve grown real close, but there’s nothing more than fraternal love between them.”

Dominic nods. “Oh, okay.”

He’s thinking nothing of her—or is he? They’ve been hanging out quite a bit these past few weeks. He’s been over at her house for a leaking sink just last Saturday afternoon, and she’s made him stay longer so that they could eat dinner together, watch the wrestling match on TV. He’s not… into her like that, he thinks—yet. Because, really, he wouldn’t mind being.

“Why?” There’s a suggestive smirk growing on his friend’s face. “You thinking of—”

But he’s cut off when Christian calls Dominic and steals his attention. No one discusses business during this kind of gatherings, but there’s a look on the man and his right hand, Marcel’s faces that just makes him think he’ll be hearing from them not long after going back home that night. He’s already made great progress on his undercover assignment, but this truly does start feeling like a step in the right direction.

When the party’s over, that night after dinner, he ends up sitting in Y/N’s car as she takes both of them home. Her dogs would be all up in his neck if it weren’t for the shield provided by the passenger’s seat, and she’s apologizing—although with a grin on her face and a tone that doesn’t make her apology come out that sincere—about their behavior.

“I just don’t understand why they like you so much,” she muses. “Rex most of all.”

He shrugs. “I didn’t even know I was that good with dogs before these two.”

Years later, he’d tell Marius Streicher how pretty she looked, with her make-up slightly smudged and the hair locks that had escaped her now messy bun. How accessible she felt—and not even in a bad way, but more like, he could reach a hand out and poke her cheek with his fingertips, or trail his index along her hairline, down the curve of her ear and touch her piercings, or even just lean back against his seat and just, look at her. How peaceful the interior of her car felt.

He’d tell Marius how Rainbow didn’t exist back then. How it was just him and the wrong waitress he had started falling for. And at the same time, how he still had this thought in the back of his mind, constantly nagging him—what if he ended up blowing up his mission in smoke?

“You’re staring,” she’s saying, smiling, eyes still on the road ahead.

“And you’re blushing.”

If there’s one thing he’s learned about her during his countless nights at the same stupid club, then it’s that she doesn’t blush. Not when his eyes are glued to her. He has stared at her much more lewdly than he’s doing now, most of all with a few drinks too many in his stomach and in his system.

She shrugs, and when she stops the car and Dominic turns back around, he notices they’ve arrived at her house. “You should come in,” she says instead, already getting out of the car and opening the back door to let the dogs out. “You don’t have to,” she adds quickly when he gets out, too. And he can’t see her face now that she’s unlocking her entrance door, but he knows she’s still blushing. “Only if you want.”

He wouldn’t tell Marius how her lips felt against his, nor how the drinks they had in her kitchen tasted when her tongue brushed against his. How she felt in his lap, one of her hands on the back of his head and the other up his shirt, against his tattooed chest. How she ground her hips down against him just right and tore a grunt from deep inside his belly and that vibrated against her lips, making her smile.

He’d tell none of that, but his friend would still understand.

*

What he did tell Marius, however, as they laid under the starry sky, was that, somehow, no one had felt like her again. Not his random hook-ups, the ones he was guilty of picking either because he needed a distraction or because they reminded him of Angel, and not even Katie, that kindergarten teacher Seamus had introduced to him and with whom he had hung out for a month or so. Nothing serious, and he hadn’t even exactly put effort into it, but a part of him still had tried. More for Seamus’—or even just Katie’s—sake than his own.

It was exactly Katie that Marius brought up with a yawn. And when he asked what had been wrong with her—or, well, maybe not wrong per se but more, I don’t know, brother… Amiss?—Dominic had found himself scoffing.

Katie’s not her—but he didn’t say it out loud. He didn’t say how he had fallen for the way Y/N fought in the ring, how she grimaced or grinned, the way her braids would slap against a cheek or a shoulder when her movements would be too abrupt. He’d go to her after the fights, and sometimes still sweaty and bruised, she’d straight up fuck the living sanity out of him—a hand around his throat and the other on his chest to keep her balance as they went at it on either his or her couch.

“Katie was…” He thought it over, fighting with his words and his brain’s ability to pick the right one. “Too nice.”

Y/N hadn’t been just black or just white—she was a whole spectrum of grays, ranging from one end to the other of it. Soft and kind on any day; but then also fearless and strong when she needed to be, ready to raise hell and fight God when she had to.

Dominic would have never been able to picture Katie on a ring, taking blows and also giving them back, because that wasn’t who Katie was. And although there was absolutely nothing wrong with that, nothing wrong with being who you are, it just… wasn’t the same. He never found himself with his wrists tied to the headboard of Katie’s bed, with a blindfold over his eyes, almost holding his breath to see—feel—where she’d touch him next. Or how. Or even with what.

And probably that was why he couldn’t take Angel out of his mind—because he knew, deep down, that he wouldn’t be able to have her again. That she was gone, lost in a chapter of his life that he had reached the end of, and that he had left in the past. And although he did often go back to reread it, that was exactly all he could do—read, but never change a word of it.

“You still have time to add something more, though.”

He had almost dozed off to sleep, the exhaustion and exertion of that day’s worth of hiking catching up with him and his tired limbs. And it was only when Marius uttered those words that he realized he had spoken that inner monologue out loud into the darkness of the night.

The stars were blinking down at him, almost winking at his powerlessness in that situation. He wasn’t scared that she might cut his balls off and feed them to the wolves; nor that she might pull her hair back into two braids and teach him a lesson or two.

What stopped him from working was the very last voicemail she had left him, when she had called his German number for the last time. He had seen her cry—cry with laughter at some stupid joke, or sob her lungs out that one time they watched Marley and Me together, the mere idea of one day losing her dogs tearing her up from the inside out. But the way she had breathed into the phone, trying to hold back the sobs, and the way her voice had broken on every other syllable—Please, Domi, pick up. I don’t understand what’s going on, but I know you’re not with the others—it still wrecked him.

He had listened to it so many times that not only did he know every word by heart, but he could hear her voice—the way it cracked, when she’d sob, when Otto would whine in the background. And what was worse, was that he could see her with his mind’s eye—sitting in the empty tub, or on one of the stools in the kitchen, or even behind the wheel of her car. So strong and resolute… crumbling apart because all he had had to offer was a lie.

Or maybe not all—he had been honest with her. Honest the first time he had told her he loved her, and honest the last time he had professed his love. That hadn’t been a lie. The way he’d hold her at night, when she’d sleep with her head on his chest, or the way he had always been ready to pounce on way-too-daring customers at the club, or when he told her she was the light of his life—none of that had been a lie.

But everything surrounding that? His loyalty to the gang? To the guys? To Christian? His made-up past before he settled down in the city? The real reason he’d sometimes love to go on solo trips and enjoy some peace, when he was in fact meeting up with people from his real life?

“I had my chance,” he decided to say instead, closing his eyes against the night sky. He’d been out stargazing with her, once, the first time they had fucked. It had been sweet and peaceful, until it had turned hotter and messier and sweatier. If he stared up at those stars one minute longer, he knew it, he’d be back on that field, with her trapped between him and the plaid blanket, clothes strewn haphazardly all around. And that was the last thing he needed. “And I wasted it.”

He didn’t say how he wasted it by coming back, but the implicature was still out there, heavy and acrid in the otherwise fresh air of the mountains.

But there had been no backing out of it. Rainbow would have come; something would have been done anyway. At some point in his staying, things had moved too forward before his heart had been able to pick a side, and there had been nothing else he could do. He had broken her heart, but he had also broken his own, and that had been inevitable. A fate he had had zero chances escaping. They had found each other too late, and he’d probably die regretting anything about that case.

There was absolutely no going back there, but he had also started to think that his future didn’t lay in Rainbow anymore, either. It had become too much—and also too little, all at the same time. Gang life surely wasn’t for him, but he was starting to realize that his last undercover mission had ended up messing up with him a bit too much, and although it didn’t exactly interfere with the way he acted in Rainbow, it did with the vision he had of it—and of himself as part of it.

“I think I need a break from this,” he muttered into the night, eyes closed both out of tiredness and that lingering sort of embarrassment he felt any time he addressed how inadequate he now felt. “It’s almost been a year and I still haven’t been able to stop long enough to think.”

He didn’t know if Marius had turned to glance at him in the semi-darkness, before they turned off their torches to sleep, but he knew he had heard.

*

“What Angel? You’re a little minx,” Dominic chuckles, still out of breath, his chest burning with exhaustion every time it rises and falls. His sweaty back sticks to the leather seats of the car, and he knows the sensation she must be feeling can’t be much different.

But he doesn’t turn to look at her. His gaze is glued to her lace panties, hanging from the gear shift in the front. If he didn’t feel too boneless to lean forward and take her phone from the passenger’s seat, he’d for sure take a picture.

“Who are you calling little?” Her laugh is breathless, and when she moves around like a contortionist to sit up straight, her lips brush against the side of his neck, making his skin break out in gooseflesh and the short hair on the nape of his head tug. “I’m still taller than you with my heels on.”

Laughter rumbles deep in his chest, and he lets her pull his head back when she tugs on his hair with a hand. “Details, pretty doll.”

She doesn’t remind him how she’s kicked his butt just a couple of weeks ago during training and part of him is happy because all they’ve been using that accident as is some sort of foreplay that always ends up with her straddling him, making him tremble with the unexpected touches his blindfold always seems to heighten.

When her finger traces the underside of his cock, however, that chuckle dies on his lips and he gasps almost inaudibly in the back of his throat. Suddenly, his suit pants pulled down to mid-thigh feel constricting and he knows that if she keeps it up, he’ll be hard again soon.

“Don’t.” He didn’t intend for it to come out that way, but his prayer is soft on her lips, when she turns his head to the side to stare into his eyes. “We’re running late for the party.”

She shrugs—and he thinks that fuck, if this car didn’t feel this cramped, he’d fuck her brains out, party or no party, not even when it comes to his boss. “You made me come twice,” she replies, matter-of-factly, not at all moved by his begging or by his breath hitching in the back of his throat when her fingers move down to his balls. “I think it’s just fair I pay back the favor, no?”

His chest and neck are still flushed when he walks into the villa Christian has rented out for his New Year’s party. The initial surprise of Y/N caving in for a member has quickly subsided, and no one whistles in their direction when they see them walk in hand in hand.

They greet their friends, exchange quick hugs, and before long, they’re all drinking and chatting.

“You were late,” Christian says. The expression on his face is serious, but the left corner of his mouth is slowly twitching up into a smirk he manages to hide when he tips his head back and downs his shot.

Dominic shrugs, gaze wandering back to where Angel is catching up with Franziska and Verena, one leg crossed over the other, left bare by the slit in her dress. “Yeah,” he clears his throat, trying not to think about how her panties are still hanging from the gear shift of the car. “We had a setback.” He hesitates on that last word, for he tries to come up with something that could at least sound unassuming, but by God, the crotch of his pants feels like it’s growing tighter and he just knows kissing her won’t be the only thing he’ll be doing when the clock strikes midnight.

Christian laughs. “If my car smells like sex—”

“We rolled the windows down. We’re not animals,” he replies with a snort.

“Just… get it cleaned before you give it back.”

Y/N glances back at them then, eyes twinkling and lips still kiss-swollen and bruised under the lipstick she reapplied before getting out of the car, he’s sure. But before she can call him to her or he can walk up to her a bit stiffly of his own accord, Christian speaks again.

“We still have some time before dinner. There’s a meeting in the other room. Marcel has news on that seemingly lost package.”

Dominic turns around, brows furrowed in confusion, before his brain manages to quickly piece everything back together and he follows the other man down a corridor and into another room. He’s almost forgotten about the new cargo coming in—it’s been a feat lately, to remember he’s not actually one of them but an undercover agent trying to blow a gang up. It’s harder and harder, and he knows the lines aren’t blurred—not yet, at least—but it’s become way too easy, to lose himself in his new friendships and in the unexpected love he’s found here.

But when reality strikes back, it’s hard to distract his mind again.

Anton’s there—and while he isn’t the boss, he’s high up enough to be one of Rainbow’s main concerns. The oldest in the group, he’s rarely there, he rarely shows up. He does work behind the scenes, but that’s where he’d rather stay—away from the kids’ stupidity, or that’s how he always jokes about it.

He’s tall and strong—a whole wardrobe of a man, but Dominic’s still been promoted to be his bodyguard and he can’t help but feel a pang of something deep in his brain, and there’s this unsolicited thought bubbling up that makes him feel all sorts of ways. Maybe someone’s had some suspicions about him, and this is all a test—or this is what he thinks before Anton moves the wrong way and he’s forced to explain that the reason for that agonized groan is the extent of the injuries he’s incurred into not too long ago.

But then they’re all back for dinner, and Dominic doesn’t have time to bask in that wave of relief washing over him when he figures out there’s nothing to fear. They eat and drink and play stupid semi-drunk games, until it’s half an hour to midnight and Y/N has dragged him into a bathroom and unbuckled his belt.

It’s quick and messy, and his fingertips dig hard into the flesh of her hips as they stare into each other’s eyes in the mirror.

“I was thinking,” she hums, wrapped tight around his arm as he walks back with her at five minutes to midnight—enough time to make her come once more, or maybe twice, but Alex has promised a great pyrotechnic show and neither of them wants to miss how he almost gets himself blown up like last year.

“My thoughts are still in that bathroom and you tell me you’re thinking?” he chuckles, pressing a kiss to her cheek before he gives her hand a squeeze, almost as though he’s telling her to just continue.

“You dork,” she laughs. “But yes, I was thinking. Why don’t you move in with me?” she asks. “You’re already there most of the time, and your house is always messy and your couch not comfortable enough for…” She shrugs, trying her best to hide her smirk. “Plus, I’d really love to have you there.”

He feigns thinking about it, but when she gasps in mock shock, he pulls her in for a kiss—and that is when their friends must see and whistle. “I’d never say no to that, Angel.”

Her smile is bright and in the moment, he doesn’t even realize he doesn’t have forever with her, although that’s what he’s come to crave for.

*

He didn’t know how he let Marius convince him to go back to Germany and see her. He really had no clue, just as he didn’t have a clue about many things—what he’d tell her, how she might react, what he’d do after. How he’d feel after—relieved? like he’s finally had some closure? and how would things be once back in Hereford?

There were a million and one thoughts in his mind as he sat there, on his hotel bed. Harry had offered to let the organization pay for it, but Dominic would have felt too bad if he had let him. This was personal, and there was no saying if his heart still lay within Rainbow schemes. He’d probably keep in touch; he’d probably always be available for anything, really, but the more time passed, the less he thought that was still the right place for him.

Düsseldorf was still buzzing with life despite the torrential rain when he walked out into the street. Y/N—he feared too many emotions and memories would resurface if he let himself think of her as Angel—had moved from the city three years after her lifetime friends had ended up in jail, sent behind bars by none other than her lover. They wouldn’t stay inside forever—he knew how these things worked, he didn’t live a delusion.

He had called her, the day before he had booked his flight. If there was one thing he owed her, it was at least that—let her know he’d be coming… if she wanted him to, that is. If she didn’t want to meet up, then so be it: he’d go on with his life the way he had done throughout the past year and try not to regret too much stuff he had been forced to do because of his job.

But when she had picked up the phone—he had called her old number with his old number—things had felt… well, not normal, of course—he had disappeared overnight without leaving a note or a text or a simple word that could let her know what the fuck had been going on during the past six years of his life—of their life. But she had picked up the phone and she hadn’t killed him through the device, and although she had remained silent for most of the call—and he had done the same, truly, not even knowing what he wanted to tell her, for the words just wouldn’t come—she had eventually agreed to meet up.

Not at her new house, although Harry had done some digging and knew where she lived—a nice apartment in a nice part of the city, but Dominic hadn’t wanted to know where, exactly, when his Director had offered to share the knowledge. She had picked a café, a nice and cozy place he had looked up on the internet, but still popular enough that the awkwardness of their date of sorts would be easily drowned out by the other patrons’ presence.

She was scrolling through her phone when he walked in and spotted her in the far left corner. It was secluded enough to guarantee them some privacy, but still not enough to cut them off from the rest of the world. He figured it was just perfect.

“Hey,” he greeted when he walked up to the table she had picked and he tried not to sigh when he noticed she had pulled her hair back into two braids.

She looked up at him—she didn’t glare the way he had expected her to, but she also didn’t smile. “Hey.”

He sat down, and they both stared at each other until a waiter came up and Y/N called for a coffee and an orange juice before glaring the guy away.

The awkwardness of it all quickly filled the space between them, and wrapped them up like a blanket, but it wasn’t just that. She was pissed, and angry, and probably murderous, but under all that he could still see the heartbreak in her eyes.

“Well, I’m here,” she said. “Say what you wanted to say. It’s the least I deserve, I think.”

Dominic opened his mouth to speak, but then the waiter came back and he closed it again as he watched their order being placed on the table. His cup of black coffee and her glass of juice seemed to put even more distance between them and he had to resist the impulse of passing a hand over his shaved head the way he did when he was nervous.

“I’m sorry,” was what he sighed, lowering his gaze first to the table and then back out of the window and the rain-washed street outside.

She leaned forward and took a sip from the straw before crossing her arms and sitting back against the cushioned back of the booth. “That’s it? You came all the way from wherever the fuck you’ve been hiding to just say I’m sorry? No explanation whatsoever?”

Another sigh, but before he could open his mouth to speak again, she cut him off.

“Was any of that real? Was there at least a crumb of truth? I opened up to you and you just—” Her voice trembled, but whether it was out of tears or pure anger, Dominic couldn’t tell.

“It was real.” He was quick at biting back, probably a bit too aggressively than he had any right to be. “It was real,” he repeated after a moment, voice much quieter and eyes boring into hers. “I did love you.”

“Love’s too big a word for the things you’ve done.”

“It was work,” he tried to reason. “I got sent here on an undercover mission—”

“I know that. I’ve been interrogated by the ones who didn’t go in. They suspected me. Because of you. Because I had been fucking the snitch for almost five years.”

He gaped at her for a moment before sighing in defeat. “I loved you,” but he didn’t say I still do, or You’re still on my mind day in and day out, and not even I still see your panties on the gear shift of Christian’s car. “That wasn’t fake, it wasn’t part of the mission. I told myself I wouldn’t fall for you, that it would mess things up, that it wasn’t fair to you. But I still did. Every I love you I said was real. Every single one of them.”

She was silent for a minute before she scoffed and shook her head. “You’re so full of shit, Dominic.”

It was different this time. She had told him that he was full of shit many a time, always laughing, always joking, but this time those words cut deep—deep enough to rob him of his breath for a moment.

“I trusted you,” she continued then, much quieter, voice barely audible above the sound of the music and of the other people chatting. “I thought you’d be my forever. How stupid I was…”

He looked down at his cup, his throat too knotted to even stomach the idea of drinking his coffee. “That makes two of us. I thought that I—”

“Don’t you even dare—”

“That I’d have more time,” he continued unrelenting, shaking his head with closed eyes for a second before opening them and staring at her again. “That I could buy more time. I kept on hoping I’d fuck up somehow, that things would go wrong and that I wouldn’t have to complete the mission. Or that I could have the time to make you hate me before it was all over.”

“Well, I do kinda hate you now.”

“Breaking your heart was never in my plans, though.” He almost moved his hand on the table to place it over hers, but a last-minute realization made him understand that that was most definitely the worst thing he could do at the moment. And not because she could snap his wrist easily, but because he had no right to. “I really did love you. I wanted to take you back with me. I tried to tell you.”

There was a spark of recognition in her eyes, then, and he knew what memory his words had brought back. The two of them relaxing in the bathtub, her back against his chest, her damp hair tickling his neck and cheek. Come away with me, he had told her, fingers trailing up and down her arms, making her shiver. Let’s go far away, where no one can find us.

“I didn’t want it to end,” he confessed. “Any of that.”

“You built everything on a lie, Dominic.” A scoff. “If that’s even your real name, that is.”

“It is.”

It seemed to take her off guard and erased the words she had been about to say.

“My name’s Dominic Brunsmeier, not Neumann. I work for an international unit of elite agents that fight terrorism. I was assigned on this mission because we were informed Anton was doing more than simply dealing drugs. I went undercover with a Hells Angels chapter in the past, so the GSG-9 called me back for this one,” he confessed, voice flat and almost professional. He would have never thought he’d one day be making such a speech out loud, but there he was, in a busy café, in front of the woman he still had the nerve to love but who didn’t love him back anymore. “And my love for you could’ve never been a lie.”

She nodded once and turned her head to the side and to the city outside. He was trying to gauge what she might be thinking, what might be going on inside her head. But she remained unreadable and distant. “They’d kill you if they knew you’re back,” she eventually said, glancing at him from the corner of her eye, her chin still resting on the palm of her hand.

He shrugged. “I’ve been close to death too many times to be scared today. This past year…” He couldn’t tell her it had been rough; he didn’t think he had the right to when in her eyes he had gone back home. “I knew I had to see you, even if it was for the last time. I didn’t think you’d agree to meet up, but I’m glad you did.”

They were silent after that. They drank their beverages, and all without speaking a word. But then, when they paid and left, she let him accompany her home.

“I thought you’d break my bones,” he confessed with a chuckle as he stood outside her apartment complex and she picked the right key to open the building’s door.

“I thought I would, too.” She was pensive, lost in thought, and it took her a couple of minutes before she pushed the door open. “But the truth is, I probably could never.”

They stared at each other, and before he could have the time to chicken out, he said, “I know it’s too much to ask, but… We could still have time together.”

She looked at him for a moment longer before she stepped into the building and closed the door behind her back.

Later that night, as he sat on his hotel bed once again, on a phone call with Marius, he couldn’t stop thinking about the last words she told him.

Yes, we could.

Feedback is always welcome if you want to drop old me a line 💛

If you want to be tagged, hit me up! xx

[spookygrantaire]

Of Heroes and Thieves

Part 2!

I forgot to add warnings, which, just swearing, really.  Shitty accents and French. I should be writing this on my writing blog @jax-writes​ but I started it here, and here shall I finish it. But follow me over there. Eventually I’ll add this to my works on AO3 as well. 

It was her phone ringing that woke her up a few days later. She really, truly meant to stay for all of thirty seconds. It was supposed to be a ride. But they’d all (mostly Clint) convinced her to stay for a week. She was liking it here too much, truth be told. They were all so kind, and truly weren’t judgmental of her life as a thief. “We all have something dark in our pasts,” Natasha had told her. “Some things we don’t talk about except in therapy, and some we just don’t talk about at all. Either way, you’re not alone here, but frankly, you’re the most open one about it.” She didn’t see a need not to be open about everything here though. They all knew who she worked for, who her family was. And who was now after her. 

“Hello?” she answered, voice drowsy, not looking at the caller ID. 

“Chere, yo’ need to get back home,” a voice smooth as velvet responded on the other end. 

She swallowed and sat up. “Am I on trial?”

A pause. “Two days. I already know they talked down de Rippers. Yo’ won’ be turned inta de Assassins.” She could feel his eyeroll. 

“How did that happen?”

A deep sigh. “We’re moving up de wedding date in exchange fo’ yo’ to be dealt with by us only.”

“Oh, Remy,” she commiserated. He loved Belladonna, but she knew he wasn’t ready for a life with her. “I’m sorry.” 

“Chere, I t’ink. I t’ink yo’ might be gettin’ excommunicated.” His voice was sad, and she knew it was the better option to happen to her, but she still felt the shock and grief roll through her body. She could probably handle not being sent on jobs anymore; she could take it up anywhere since she already had a reputation built. But never being allowed back home again? Not to see her sister? She choked on a sob that woke up the man in bed next to her. 

“Babe?” he pulled her close, not understanding what was happening, but still knowing he was needed. 

She took a deep breath. “Two days from now? Do you know what time?” 

“Jus’ whenever you can get here. Yo’ in New York, oui? Yo’ drive, an’ it’ take yo’ twen’y hours give ‘r take.”

“Oui. I’ll head out in a bit. The heads up is just so I get goodbyes, isn’t it?”

A long pause. “We see yo’ when yo’ get here, Chere. Yo’ can bring someone wit’ yo’ inta de city, mais dey can’ come near de home. Pere said since yo’ famille.”

She nodded before saying her goodbye and disconnecting the call. Tears rolled down her face as she looked at Clint. “Will you go with me?”

“Anywhere, any time.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

An hour later, the team was gathered around to say goodbye. “You know for sure it's just an excommunication, and not worse?” Peter asked.

She shook her head. “But I doubt they’d have let me bring Clint if it was a death sentence.” With that, she slung her bag over her shoulder and looked at Clint. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

Clint nodded. “You sure you don’t want to take a jet?”

She shook her head once more, as she began heading toward the door. “No, I need the drive to calm myself some. We ain’t taking any back roads though. I don’t trust Marius Boudreaux to not send anyone after me. He just wouldn’t on the highways since it’s too many witnesses.”

“Would he really risk it? Going against your side?” Clint asked, turning to wave at the team once more before the pair exited. 

She shrugged. “I suppose, realistically no, what with the two Guilds trying to form an alliance. They’re moving up Remy and Belle’s wedding date because of this. I expect it’ll be next week at the latest. More than likely this weekend. Wonder how Julien is gonna take that,” she cringed as she moved to the driver’s side of the SUV. Clint sighed and handed her the keys before moving to get in on the passenger side. “You pick the tunes?” she offered. 

“Deal.” And with that, they left the compound, a long drive ahead of them. 

It was eighteen hours later, and they were finally in the state. They’d taken turns driving so they could take turns sleeping. When they were just outside the state they took a bit of a break to stretch their legs and have a little picnic at a park they found. “We’re not gonna be able to stay the night in the city after the trial, and I’m sorry about that,” she said. “I’d love to show you around. But what I’m saying I guess is we’ll need to leave the state before we can get a motel and sleep off some of this trip.”

“That’s fine, babe. You can show me a couple things on the way at least. And grab all the pictures you can. And I was thinking.”

“Hmm?” she looked up from her chips, meeting his eyes. 

“After we call the team to update them--we have to or they’re gonna fly down here and fight everyone--we could do a sort of road trip.”

“A road trip?” she smiled. 

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I could use a vacation. We could see the sights between here and the compound. Maybe peek at the Smokey Mountains. I hear North Carolina is nice this time of year.”

“I know a spot in Asheville,” she shrugged. “Sure. I’m in. I won’t even steal anything on the way,” she crossed her heart. 

Clint chuckled. “Don’t lie, babe. It’s habitual for you right now. It’ll take a long time to get out of your system if it ever does. That’s fine, well not fine, but I understand. I’m here for you. And I’ve been there.”

“You a secret professional thief for a huge crime syndicate too?” she smirked.

“It was a carnival, but close enough,” he smirked. 

At that, her eyes widened and she choked on her drink. “Seriously?” she coughed. “That was not in your file.”

“Fury erased it when I joined up. Just in case.”

“Huh. You’re full of surprises, Clint Barton,” she said before standing. Let’s go. We’ll make it to the city by ten and you can roam the Quarter while I. Say goodbye, I guess. It’s one big party down there, so have a drink or four for me. Don’t meet any girls I won’t think are pretty.”

He laughed. “I’m a one woman man, babe. You’re pretty stuck with me, I’d say.”

“Yeah?” she glanced at him as she slid behind the wheel once more. “Not like we’ve actually talked about it. You still don’t know a lot about me. I still don’t know a lot about you.”

“That’s why it’s the getting to know each other phase, babe. But I’ve been hooked since day one. Good luck getting rid of me.”

She smiled and kissed him before they set off. There was still that feeling of dread in her stomach, but he was doing a good job of making her feel a little lighter. She just hoped her sentence was what she thought it was; she didn’t want to break Clint’s heart.

[sentinelstars]

Since I haven’t figured out how to work AO3 as a writer yet, here is a mini Courferre bullet fic thing that popped into my mind. Enjoy :)

Courfeyrac who is friendly and charming, and who flirts with his friends until they get flustered as a way to show affection.

No, seriously. He’s even made Enjolras blush and stammer on a few occasions, although admittedly he’s not as good at it as Grantaire. 

Courfeyrac who treats it like a game, even if he always wins in the end, it’s the initial challenge that makes it fun. 

Courfeyrac showing up early to an ABC meeting and shouting a pick up line at Joly and winking, only quitting once the doctor slaps him gently in protest and Musichetta hands him his drink with a warning look. 

Courfeyrac being told off by his best friend Combeferre, who is clearly not in the best of moods today

Courfeyrac draping himself across Combeferre’s shoulders and making kissy faces, throwing out a compliment that would make a nun pass out 

Combeferre reacting icily and motioning for Courfeyrac to sit down so that they can begin

Courfeyrac realizing, with horror, that Combeferre hadn’t even flinched at his valiant attempts at flirting.

Worried that he is losing his touch, Courfyerac walks over and sits with Bahorel, Bossuet, and Feuilly, missing the glare that Combeferre shoots at his back

Courfeyrac wrapping his arms around Bahorel and whispering in his ear until the man turns red. Courfeyrac sitting down with his drink, relieved that he is still just as charming as ever

But why didn’t Ferre react, then?

Courfeyrac slowly realizing that Combeferre has never reacted to any of his shenanigans, never blushed or stammered. The guide only ever looked at him over his book sternly until Courf backed off.

Courfeyrac making it his personal mission to get Ferre to react somehow, refusing to leave his friend alone for the duration of the meeting.

I mean, he tries everything. Cheesy pick up lines, physical affection, his trade-mark smile and wink- nothing works. Combeferre only reacts with a stern look that makes something in Courfeyrac’s chest hurt. He redoubles his efforts

“Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk past you again?” “Courf, we’ve known each other for 10 years,” Combeferre sighs, before continuing. “Sit down, you’re embarrassing yourself.” 

It’s cold, even for Combeferre, but something in Courfeyrac’s gut won’t allow him to give up. He only sits down and stops when Enjolras walks over, looking like he might actually murder the both of them

 Ferre gathers up his stuff and exits quickly, before Courf or Enjolras can say a word to him.

Courf sits at the bar and has an internal crisis, trying to figure out why- why Ferre won’t react, and perhaps, more importantly, why Courf cares so much, why he gets that feeling when Combeferre looks him in the eye. It feels like Courfeyrac is freezing and melting all at once, like that single stare has trapped him in a cage, yet his heart seems to be soaring far away, leaving him behind. 

Grantaire is next to him, rambling on about what classical figure Enjolras reminded him of today, and Courf isn’t really listening. Well, until Grantaire suggests that they go to a club with some of the others and get drinks. “Yes!” Courfeyrac blurts out before he can stop himself

At the club, Courfeyrac can almost forget about Combeferre, with all of the attention he’s getting. He has four sets of numbers written on his arm, although they’re all blurred by the sweat from dancing. He’s tipsy and laughing, with Bahorel’s arm around him, and yet he still has a nagging feeling at the back of his mind

Courfeyrac leaves to get another drink and as he’s waiting at the bar, alone, the hair on the back of his neck stands up, like he’s being watched. He turns around and there’s his best friend, Combeferre, standing at the edge of the club and quickly looking away

Courfeyrac walks over to him in disbelief. “Are you seriously trying to hide? It won’t work, I’ve never seen somebody look so out of place at a club!” 

Ferre cooly explains that he’s there as a designated driver for Joly, Bossuet, and Jehan, and it drives Courfeyrac absolutely crazy that even after Courf caught him staring, he still acts calm, collected, and unashamed

That feeling in his gut is back, and Courf follows it, flirting with his best friend as though he’s some common stranger at the club, not ceasing his efforts even when Grantaire tries to pull him back out to go dance

He becomes so desperate that he goes for horrible, awful lines that he hasn’t used since middle school. “I hope you know CPR, because you take my breath away,”

“I’m a doctor, Courf. Listen-” 

But that matter of fact statement sets Courf over the edge. He groans, waving his hand dismissively, “Fuck you, then! I’ll go find someone else to take home tonight!” He means it as a joke, he really does. But he can’t help but notice the air of finality there is as he begins to walk away

Combeferre grabs his arm and fixes him with that look, and Courfeyrac, is for once, at a loss for words. Suddenly, they’re walking to the hallway where the bathrooms are, and Combeferre’s lips are on his and he’s kissing him insistently. Courfeyrac, temporarily stunned, stands there, alcohol-addled brain taking a few moments to comprehend that Combeferre, his best friend, is kissing him

Once he does figure it out, however, Courfeyrac kisses back with enthusiasm, wrapping his arms around Ferre tightly, clinging on to him like he might leave any second. Courf feels like, without Combeferre there, steadying him, he’d collapse, because his knees are weak and his balance is all off

Suddenly, Ferre stops kissing him and pulls away. Courfeyrac looks up at him with a grin slowly starting to form, but his cheeky comment is cut short when he notices the look of absolute horror on Combeferre’s face.

“We should get out of here-” “I’m driving you home.” “And coming inside after?” Courfeyrac asks hopefully, wiggling his eyebrows.

Ferre blushes, he actuallly blushes, and Courfeyrac thinks that now he can die happy. That is, until Ferre says firmly, “No. You’re drunk. You’re going home to Marius and I’m going home to my bed.” 

“We can have a sleepover like we used to-” “No!” Ferre looks distressed, horrified at himself, and Courfeyrac feels his heart breaking. “Ferre-” he pleads gently, reaching towards him, but Combeferre holds him at arms distance. “You’re drunk. I can’t- How could I-?” the doctor pulls at his hair, before pinching the bridge of his nose and groaning.

Courfeyrac doesn’t even know how to react, he just follows numbly behind Combeferre as the doctor searches the crowd for someone. Vaguely, Courf wonders how one could go from being so elated to however he’s feeling right now in a matter of minutes.

He realizes that Combeferre is handing him off to Bahorel, who is sober, to take him home, like he can’t even bear to be in a car with him right now

As the guide goes to leave, sheparding Bossuet, Joly, and Jehan with well practiced skill, he glances back apologetically at Courf, and mouthes something that Courf can’t decipher amid the flashing lights.

When Bahorel gets him home and Marius brings him some water while he lies in bed, Courfeyrac can hardly drink it, too preoccupied trying to figure out everything that happened, and he drifts off to sleep. 

Courfeyrac wakes up with a headache, but he doesn’t think it’s from the hangover. He can practically feel Combeferre overthinking whatever happened last night, even from blocks away, and it pains him. He knows his best friend, and he can tell that he’s suffering.

He doesn’t even bother to change his clothes from last night, leaving a note for Marius and then practically running to Enjolras and Combeferre’s apartment.

He raps insistently at the door, and he’s about to start yelling when Enjolras answers, coffee in hand, golden hair askew. 

“What happened last night? Combeferre came in all in a flurry, totally interrupted my studying, and said something about you- being drunk, him taking advantage of you? He hasn’t left his room all morning!” Enjolras demanded an explanation, blocking the doorway. 

“Oh no, Enj, please let me through, I’ve got to talk to him, please,” he begged, making a pouty face before Enjolras sighed, moving to let him by. “You owe me an explanation and an energy drink,” the leader grumbled as Courf ran past him, knocking on Ferre’s bedroom door. 

It opens and Ferre looks horrible, as though he hadn’t slept all night. Enjolras, as tired as he is himself, stands and tenses immediately, about to walk over, but he pauses when he sees Courf wrap Combeferre into a hug. 

Ferre hugs back hesitantly, before saying, “Courf, listen, I don’t think-”

“Good. Stop thinking. Please, you’re driving me insane. Just let yourself- let us- have this. I’m begging you.” Courf pulls away just enough to grab him by the back of his head and kiss him insistently, and Ferre only resists for a moment before kissing back. 

Enjolras nearly spits out his coffee. “You- I-”

Courfeyrac can’t even hear him, too busy grinning up at Combeferre who is smiling nervously, and a blush, a blush!, Courfeyrac thinks with giddiness, is spreading across Ferre’s face. 

“Um- Sorry Enj-” the doctor starts sheepishly, and he’s stuttering, flustered, and Courfeyrac’s heart just about bursts. 

“I’m not!” Courf shouts excitedly, kissing Combeferre again, and pushing him back into his bedroom. 

Enjolras sighs, hiding his fond smile with his coffee mug and mumbling, “I’ve got to call Feuilly.” 

Later, with satisfaction, Courfeyrac thought that he really could get anyone to fluster, but he didn’t think he’d ever need to see it from anyone other than Ferre ever again.