#except with the new chapter im actually working on it slowly

[kholnt]

gamers i prommy anything regarding lost will be answered/done/whatever eventually its just currently being put into the crockpot for me to forget abt for a while as a cooks

[hwaslayer]

vivrant thing (jwy) | five.

—SPOTIFY PLAYLIST / SERIES MASTERLIST

—SUMMARY: after getting into a little accident, wooyoung decides to do his sister a favor by pretending to be your date at the company summer party. as soon as the night ends, wooyoung would go back to his usual routine of hanging out with his boys, keeping his distance from committed relationships and being a typical brother to jiwoo. except, the favor comes with more than what wooyoung expects and he finds you occupying his mind more than usual. 

—PAIRING: jung wooyoung x f. reader

—GENRE: (18+ - minors dni) bestfriend’s brother au | fluff, angst, smut

—WORD COUNT: 9k

—CHAPTER CONTENT / WARNINGS: cussing, mature language/sexually implied content, crying, chapter is pretty heavily papa-focused, mentions of illness, the talk happens!!, crying, bbygirl is sad and exhausted but wooyoung tries his best, yes im sorry i had to reference the howl/wooyoung thing, small sweet kisses and affectionate acts, very brief mentions of alcohol consumption / intoxication / hangovers, also very brief mentions of wooyoung's past again, more jiwoo vs. wooyoung (bickering not actual arguments lol), lots of apologies from jiwoo lol sorry if i missed anything!

Something's wrong, and Wooyoung can't figure it out. It's bothering him. As much as he's trying to respect your space, he can't help but worry about you. Especially when you haven't returned any of his texts or calls. He was expecting something, anything by now, so he can't help himself when he sends another text—

wooyoung: are you at work?

you: i'm about to head home.

You only respond because even though you aren't quite ready to face him regarding all of this yet, you don't wanna worry him unnecessarily. But, it still does anyway. Why aren't you at work?

And maybe, he should've asked if it was okay to see you first. It's the anxiety, the panic, within him that isn't letting him rest. He just needed to see you and make sure you were okay after everything that went down. His sister could be a piece of work, and you didn't necessarily have Yeosang to lean onto. Truthfully, you wouldn't be mad if he actually showed up at your door step. He is the comfort you need as much as you'd hate to admit it right now. At the same time, it'd make you a little more sad though, more confused. 

Lo and behold, when you get home from the long night in the hospital, Wooyoung is leaning against the rail; waiting right by your doorstep. You don't question why he's not at work either, but you feel a sense of relief come over you seeing him there. A sense of relief mixed with nervousness. He doesn't say a word, simply cause he's trying to read you. He's trying to figure out if he's the reason why you look so low and tired. If it's his sister, Yeosang. All of the above.

"I don't really have time to talk about this, Wooyoung—" Is all you mutter as you unlock your door and step in.

"Then, we don't have to talk about it right now. I just wanted to make sure you were okay." He slips in and slowly kicks off his shoes, watching the way you drag yourself towards your closet. You're not sure why that's enough to trigger you, but you find yourself starting to tear up. Exhaustion hitting you tough, sadness stemming deep from your gut. Wooyoung can tell, and even if you're trying to be incredibly sneaky about it, he can still hear you quietly sniffing away. "Y/N." He says, forcing you to pause your movements as you continue to cry. "What is it? Whatever it is, let me help."

"Wooyoung, please just go. I need to go back."

"Go back where?" 

"The hospital." You mutter softly.

"The hospital?" He furrows his brows. "Wait, what's going on? Why are you shutting me out?"

"That's a bold question to ask after that everything that's happened." Fuck, Wooyoung thinks. Don't be fucking stupid, Wooyoung.

"You're right, I'm sorry. I'm just—" He pauses, watching as you pack things in your bag before setting it aside and grabbing a new change of clothes. "I'm worried about you."

"Don't be."

"Y/N." He calls you again, and you take this moment to look him in the eye. Everything within you wants to cave when you see him looking down at you the way he is, hand gently tugging at your wrist. He's basically pleading through his eyes, and the only reason why you continue with your next response is because he actually looks like he means it.

"Papa's in the hospital." You softly say.

"W-what?" He stutters. "What happened? He got worse?"

"Kidney infection." Wooyoung sighs. "He's been hiding it, but he's been feeling more than just being tired. The pain got really bad. Super sudden and sharp. He almost went into sepsis cause of the fever he had."

"Shit. Is he okay now?"

"He's stable." You try to brush past him to quickly wash up and change, but he blocks your path.

"Let me take you." You try to move past, yet you're still unsuccessful.

"Wooyoung." 

"I'll take you back—"

"Stop it. I don't need you to. I don't need you to do anything for me. I can handle it." Your response almost makes him flinch. Truthfully, he knows he deserves it. He knows it shouldn't have taken him this long to talk to you, to reach out to you. So, he knows. He's fully aware. It doesn't make it sting less, though.

"I fucked up. I acknowledge that and I'm sorry. There's so many things I can tell you when the time is right. But, for now, please don't shut me out and do this alone. I wanna be here for you." He pauses, every inch of his heart slowly shattering the more he sees the tears constantly staining your cheeks. "Please let me be here for you." You nibble on your bottom lip, shifting your attention away from Wooyoung as you wipe at your tears and try to suck it all up, try to regain composure. Before Wooyoung can even reach out to wipe the stragglers away, you step around him and lock yourself in the bathroom, leaving Wooyoung in the middle of your living room area. You give yourself a good 15 minutes to freshen up and change before meeting him outside again. He sits on the arm of your couch, patiently waiting.

"I just need to grab a few more things."

"Do you need me to help pack some stuff up?"

"It's okay." You pack some clothes and the rest of your necessities in case you'll be able to stay the night again, though you know it's probably a long shot. You hate having to be away from Papa, and now [even more than ever], you feel the need to keep him close. You feel the need to make up for not being there when he needed you the most; the guilt eating you alive.

Once you've finished, you grab yourself a bottle of water and turn to Wooyoung who is now waiting for you near the door. He gives you a small, toothless smile, gently grabbing your bag from you before leading the way out of your studio and to the car.

The drive is so, so incredibly quiet, but Wooyoung understands you need this more than anything right now. The only time he spoke a word was when he asked you which hospital you needed to go to. Otherwise, he let you sit in your peace. He'd look over from time to time, itching to hold your hand, kiss your hand or gently massage your head as a way to affectionately reassure you that things would be okay. Instead, he looks back out to the road and adjusts the heat a bit to make sure you're warm enough— hoping it's enough to provide comfort from a distance.

"You sure you don't wanna stop by for food or coffee? Anything? You should eat."

"I can just eat at the hospital."

"Mmkay." Wooyoung says, pulling into the hospital and straight towards the parking garage. When he pulls into a spot on the second floor and shuts off the car, he immediately steps out to grab your things from the trunk. You walk alongside of him towards the main entrance, checking in with the front desk before slapping on your visitor stickers and heading down the hall. It's quite the journey of twists and turns before you get to Papa's room, and a sense of relief washes over you when you finally arrive. He's sleeping in his bed, TV on to one of his favorite cooking shows.

"Papa." You gently rub at his arm to wake him. He looks up at you with sleepy eyes, mustering all his energy to smile back at you and Wooyoung.

"Y/N, Wooyoung."

"How're you feeling?" Wooyoung asks.

"Better. Not the best yet, but better." Wooyoung nods before turning his attention to you. "Why don't you go eat? I'll stay with Papa." Wooyoung looks at you sympathetically. You simply nod in response, tugging Papa's blanket up before you let him know you'll be stepping out for a few minutes.

"Papa, do you need anything right now?" He shakes his head. "I'll be back then, okay? I'm going to get food." Papa nods sleepily. "Wooyoung is here." You turn back to Wooyoung, who is now sitting in the chair next to his bed. "Want anything?"

"I'm good." He gives you a pursed smile, watching you walk out of the room and down to the cafeteria on the other end of the first floor. After grabbing some toast, a bit of egg and bacon, you order a latte to go with your food. You sit at a table near the window and slowly eat away, scrolling through social media and stumbling upon Jiwoo and Hongjoong's pictures. You like all of them, though the two of you hadn't really talked much since the fight, since she left. Despite all of the commotion, you still sent her a text wishing her a safe trip, in which she replied with a heart reaction. 

You left it at that.

It was hurtful, and you were sad you and Jiwoo were like this. But, you were still optimistic that the two of you would return to your usual ways soon. Besides, you still needed to figure out what was going on between you and Wooyoung.

All of this was a mess.

You feel your bottom lip tremble and you press the back of your finger flat beneath your nose to try and prevent yourself from crying in the cafeteria. When you feel the wave pass, you let out a shaky breath before focusing on finishing your food. Meanwhile, Wooyoung continues to watch the TV while Papa lays next to him, in and out of sleep. At least, that's what he thought until Papa breaks the comfortable silence that had fallen between them.

"Wooyoungie." Papa is barely able to make out, his voice hoarse and tired. Wooyoung is surprised to see him awake right now, only being able to imagine how tired he is.

"Mhm?" Wooyoung tugs his blanket up a little more on the side, returning his attention back up to Papa's face afterwards.

"Take care of my Y/N, hm?" He smiles softly. "My body isn't what it used to be. I'm afraid it'll only get weaker, and at some point, my time will come." Wooyoung's heart drops hearing the statement fall from Papa's lips, though, when he faces the reality, it's only the truth. "Take care of her. Please don't leave her alone."

"I will. I promise I won't leave her side, okay?" Papa lets out a content breath, resting his head back against the pillow. "Although, I think I might've messed up with her."

"You didn't." He pulls another tired smile.

"Pretty sure I did." Wooyoung licks his lips. "I was being stupid."

"You needed time, I assume. It happens to the best of us." 

"Did she.. tell you everything?" Wooyoung asks, afraid of the details Papa might know. And he knows, to some extent. You did tell him that dinner with Yeosang was terrible. You did tell him that you drank a little too much after, that you accidentally texted Wooyoung instead of Jiwoo. You did tell him things 'kinda' escalated. 

And then you apologized profusely while you cried at his bedside for not being there because you got into a fight with Jiwoo over the whole thing with Wooyoung. You cried your sorries nonstop; Papa didn't even know what was more painful to endure: you breaking down and sobbing, or his kidneys going outta wack.

—FLASHBACK

"Papa?" You step inside his apartment and slip out of your shoes, a small smile on your face when you see him watering his plants out on his balcony.

"Hey, there she is." He laughs a bit, putting down his watering pot before placing an arm on his lower back. "Was just watering my plants." He winces a bit as he steps inside and plops onto the couch.

"You okay?"

"Ah, my lower back's been bothering me, but it's not too big of a deal. Probably just need to exercise and stretch more."

"You sure? We can go to the hospital just to get it checked out."

"No, no. No need." He sits back and smiles up at you. "I am sure."

"Okay. I'll brew us some tea? I got us a few pastries from your favorite café." You sit the box down on his coffee table and pop it open, revealing a matcha cream pastry and a fruit danish with seasonal berries [which is Papa's favorite].

"Sounds good. Thank you." You smile at him and start heating up some water before seeping bags of green tea. Papa lets out a content sigh as he flips through his TV and starts watching the news while you prep. "So, wanna tell me how dinner with Yeosang went?" You briefly pause, hearing the electric kettle click and automatically shut off. You take two mugs out from his cabinet and pour the tea into each before dipping the green tea bags. You set them aside for another 3 minutes, grabbing two small plates and utensils for the pastries.

"Well, to be straightforward, it was awkward and terrible."

"Awkward and terrible. That bad?"

"I don't even know if we'll even go back to being the same, Papa."

"I'm sure you will. Just give it some time. It's all fresh so it'll feel weird for a little bit." He looks at you and observes the way you avoid eye contact with him, even while you cut the pastries in half. 

"Mhm." You hum.

"Something else happen?"

"Why do you say that?" You pass him his plate and utensils, still avoiding eye contact.

"You're avoiding your old man." He chuckles and you briefly look at him before shaking your head and returning your attention to the matcha cream pastry on your plate. "You were never a liar, so it's easy to tell when you're not exactly telling the truth and covering up."

"I don't know."

"You can tell me when you're ready."

"I am ready. I just don't know how to say it."

"You know I'd never judge you."

"I know, I know." You sit back on your knees before looking up at him. "Hm. After the dinner, I went to the convenience store near my house and drank some soju to get my mind off of dinner with Yeosang. Plus, I dunno, I didn't feel as satisfied so I grabbed some snacks. I got a pretty tipsy again and ended up accidentally texting Wooyoung instead of Jiwoo. He came to my rescue. We hung out at my apartment and um." Your bottom lip pokes out. "Things kinda just.. happened." Papa nods slowly.

"Ahhh." The response is somewhat elongated.

"I know, it's awful."

"No, it's not. But, why do you seem sad or upset about it?"

"Because I dunno where this leads us. We haven't talked. I haven't even told Jiwoo yet either and I know she won't take it well. That'll probably ruin our friendship, too." You sigh. "I'm just losing my friends one by one."

"Don't say that. They love you and care for you as much as you do. Fights will happen but it won't compare to the strong foundations you've built." He pauses. "Where do you want the whole thing with Wooyoung to lead you?" You shrug.

"Is it dumb to say that I like Wooyoung? It all started from the party and—" You let out a frustrated sigh. "I know he probably doesn't feel the same." And that's the issue for you.

"You don't know that. Maybe he needed time to form his thoughts, Y/N." You look at Papa blankly. "People who have feelings will often need time to form their words. It's too deep for them to understand quickly so they dissect carefully. Especially if they don't wanna mess things up. Give him some time before you overthink and start jumping to conclusions. Can you do that for me? Wooyoung wouldn't just leave you without answers like that."

"I guess, ya." Is all you say, shaking it off before you start crying in front of him. "Anyway, tea is ready. I'll go grab it and we can watch your favorite movies?"

"Sounds good to me." He chuckles a bit, though deep down he is a little worried about you. Himself. He's been feeling off lately, and after this, the last thing he wants to do is worry you more. 

He just hopes whatever he's been feeling will pass so it'll be one less thing on your plate.

—END

"She didn't have to tell me specifics." Wooyoung nods. "Do you find yourself feeling any different about her now that time has passed? You can tell me and it'll be safe between us."

"I like her. A lot." He does a slight head tilt. "Wouldn't blame her if she didn't feel the same, though. I handled it poorly."

"My girl's got a big heart." Papa chuckles a bit. "I know she feels the same about you, or else she wouldn't have been sulking over it." He lightly teases, making the heat rise to Wooyoung's cheeks. "Just promise me you'll take care of it. You'll take care of her?"

"I'm sorry. It was my fault in the first place. But, you have my word. I will. I'm gonna make things right after this."

"I trust you." Papa holds out his hand for Wooyoung to take, and he does. He holds it tightly, giving it a squeeze.

"For now, she still needs you, too. Promise me you'll take care of yourself?"

"I know, I should, huh? Might need you to be my personal trainer." Wooyoung laughs a bit.

"I think you're stronger and way more knowledgeable than me."

"Should we arm wrestle when I get a little better?"

"Sure, I'll let you hurt my feelings just once. I deserve it." Papa laughs just before shutting his eyes to rest again. The nurse comes in to give Papa his breakfast and meds, greeting Wooyoung as she sets it up on the table. As soon as she instructs Papa to eat his porridge and take his medicine right after, you walk in and greet her with a small smile on your face. You speak to her to check on any new updates regarding Papa and she reassures you that everything seems to be fine. If he continues to improve and remain stable within the next day or two, she thinks he can go home sooner than later.

"Do you think I can stay here again with him tonight?" You're holding a pastry in a bag and a cold, bottled americano for Wooyoung in your hands. "I-I just don't know if I can leave him alone here." The nurse looks at you sympathetically and shakes her head, her hand on your wrist.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N. I wish I could bend the rules even more for you, but we can't allow visitors to stay for another night. I promise he's in good hands, okay? And as soon as the morning comes, you're more than welcome to come back." You sigh and nod, trying to be understanding of the rules. You knew this would be the outcome, but mentally preparing ahead of time doesn't make you any less sad. Nervous. Anxious.

"No, it's okay. I understand. Thank you." She gives you another sympathetic smile.

"Call me if you need anything, okay? I'm here until visiting hours end tonight." You nod, watching as she walks out, leaving the three of you in the room. You hand Wooyoung his food and drink, pulling the table with Papa's food and medicine over.

"You didn't have to."

"You should eat, too." You look at him before looking at the food and unwrapping it. "Papa, you ready to eat? You gotta take your medicine soon so you can sleep a little more."

"I could eat." You chuckle a bit while Wooyoung helps him sit up properly. 

After Papa eats and drinks his medicine, he continues to fall in and out of sleep due to the exhaustion from everything that happened over the past day and overnight. The pain seems to be managed well, and the treatment plan that the doctor has him on seems to be working. It was caught at a time before things could get too deep and severely irreversible, so you're grateful for that despite the pain Papa had gone through. In between his naps, you and Wooyoung would talk about the show on TV or go on quick walks around the hospital before coming back to the room. The only time Wooyoung leaves your side is to briefly buy some food at the convenience store across the street, grabbing you an egg salad sandwich and some iced tea per your request, and grabbing himself a few other snacks in case you wanted some, too.

Which, as he expected, you ended up stealing his chips and mochi. You only left him with a bite of his favorite strawberry mochi, but he couldn't even be mad when you looked at him with wide-eyes, powder around your lips after taking the majority of the damn thing into your mouth. All he could do was sigh, suppressing the want to tease you and tickle you until you surrender [or kick him in the balls accidentally, whichever comes first].

When evening hits, you make sure Papa gets a good amount of his dinner in before taking his medication and drinking lots of water. It hurts you to leave him alone for the night, but you know he'll be coming home soon and you'll be able to spend as much time as possible with him then. You squeeze his hand and hold back your tears, reassuring him you'll be back in the morning before dragging yourself out of his room when visiting hours ends. Wooyoung trails behind, hand rubbing at your back gently as he guides you back to the car.

The ride back home is equally as silent as the drive over to the hospital, and Wooyoung is having trouble figuring out when he can talk to you about everything going on between you and him. No time ever feels like the right time, but Wooyoung knows he has to do this instead of pushing it off even more. 

"Wooyoung?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for driving me and for staying with me today." 

"It's nothing."

"It's a lot, and I really appreciate it." He looks over with a tiny smile before pulling up to your street. It's obvious Wooyoung wants to say more and you know what it is, but the assumption doesn't get solidified until he breaks the silence again; you're not entirely sure how to feel with where this is going.

Anxious? Afraid of what he might actually say to you about everything?

"Y/N." Wooyoung calls for you just as he parks his car and shuts it off. "Can we talk now please? It probably won't feel like the right time, but I'd really like to before the night ends. I don't want another day to pass like this." You look at him, hand tugging on the sleeve of your sweater as you nod.

"Okay." Wooyoung looks at you and gives you a small smile.

"Let me start off by saying I'm sorry about the way things happened. I was fucking stupid and I shouldn't have left you that morning. Truthfully, I just didn't know how to put my feelings into words because it's never been this way for me. I know it sounds cliché, but I really don't know how else to explain it. I just.. I like you. A lot. I have a lot of feelings for you and it was scary for me because it happened quick, and I wasn't sure if you felt the same. I know I should've just said it to avoid all of this in the first place, but clearly I'm bad at it." He chuckles nervously before shaking his head. "Um, anyway—I'm rambling. I'm sorry." He repeats, soft dark brown eyes on you. "Point is, I like you and there's nothing else I've been more sure of. I hope I didn't mess this up already, but I'd understand if you wanted nothing to do with me. I didn't treat you the way you should have been treated that morning, and I'm sorry for making you feel that way in the first place." His voice falls lowly, Wooyoung trying to stomach his nervousness for your response. He watches as you fiddle with your fingers before you look up at him.

"I appreciate the apology. I'm not gonna lie, it was hurtful Wooyoung. And it didn't make it any better that your sister was in my face with the 'i told you so.'" You sigh.

"I'm sorry, I know. That was never my intention, Y/N. And if you wanna do this with me, we can take this slow so that I can show you. Because I never wanna make you feel that way again."

"I feel the same way and I do want this with you, Wooyoung. I'm just scared."

"I know, and that's completely valid. But, I promise you that you can trust me to take care of you from here on out, okay? We don't have to rush into anything and just take it as it comes. But, I'm here with you no matter what. Nothing will change that." You slowly nod, the feelings slightly becoming overwhelming. 

"Okay." Is all you respond with. You're feeling happy, relieved, but also scared, anxious. It might just be everything that's been happening with Papa, but it feels good to know you aren't entirely alone. Because even if you didn't wanna admit it before, you were afraid of being alone. Despite your friends being with you over the years, there was always a sense of loneliness that was hidden in the corner of your mind. Loneliness without your parents. Loneliness without a person, your person. You tried not to look at it this way because you weren't really lacking anywhere and still had love coming from different avenues. But, you also can't lie and say you didn't think about it and how it'd feel to have your parents, or someone to call yours genuinely and wholly.

"And Jiwoo.." Wooyoung does a slight head tilt. "I won't apologize on her behalf, but whatever she said about me, I can't lie and say it isn't true. You know I haven't been the best in the past, but you mean more to me than that and I'm trying to do better this time around. It's not gonna be perfect but know that I'm trying." He lets out a breath. "She'll come around soon, too. I know you're worried about her. You know how Jiwoo is."

"I hope so."

"I'll try and talk to her."

"It's okay. I think I just need to sit her down and open up to her about all of this." He nods.

"We're okay then?"

"Yeah." You manage to push the rest of your feelings back momentarily when Wooyoung leans over to place a chaste kiss on your forehead. For a second, things do feel okay.

"Come on, let's get you upstairs. Been a long day for you." You nod. Wooyoung grabs your bag from the trunk, following closely behind you as you walk up to your studio. You still seem rather quiet and although he's happy the talk is done with and you two are okay, he can tell something else is bothering you. It isn't long before he finds out because as soon as you enter your studio, you let out a heavy sigh and drop your purse to the floor. You stand in the center, suddenly breaking down into your hands when the feeling gets immensely overwhelming, almost unbearable.

"Y/N." Wooyoung says, close to a whisper. He comes from behind and gently wraps his arms around you before turning you to face him. He pries your hands away from your face, thumbs softly coming to wipe your tears away. "Baby, hey. It's gonna be okay." He shushes you as you rest against his chest, crying and wetting his shirt. "Baby." He repeats at a whisper, shushing and cooing you in his arms. "What is it? What's bothering you?" He tenderly kisses your tears away, thumb caressing your cheeks while he looks at you with a small frown on his face.

"What if they didn't get there in time, Woo? What if he had been one minute late—" Wooyoung tuts and rests against the back of the couch, pulling you in between his legs. He continues to wipe your tears away, shaking his head.

"But, none of that happened, okay? None of that happened. You don't need to worry about that because he's still here. He's recovering and you've been there with him every step of the way. That's all that matters. He's gonna get better, he already is. He'll be better tomorrow and the next day, and so on." You sigh, looking at him before nodding. 

"I can't lose him right away."

"You won't. I promise. He's still strong and he'll get through this." He brushes the hair away from your face. "It's gonna be okay." He repeats.

"Sorry."

"Don't be, love. Why don't you get comfortable, hm? We can hang out here and watch another Studio Ghibli movie."

"Will you stay?" You ask him softly, watching as he presses a kiss to the surface of your hand.

"Of course I will, Y/N. I'm just gonna grab some stuff from my place, but I'll make it quick and come back."

"Okay." You answer, voice dipping close to a whisper. Wooyoung pulls you closer, pressing a light kiss to your lips before standing. As you grab your pajamas, Wooyoung gets a hot shower started for you, tossing a bit of your lavender epsom salt onto the shower floor to help relax you. He reassures you again that he'll be quick before shutting the bathroom door and heading out. You give yourself time to just be under the hot water, letting it ease and relax your body while you cry out all your worries and concerns— letting them all go so that you can find some peace for the time being.

Maybe the universe will take the rest into its own hands.

After taking your time in the shower, you step out and do your nightly routine— carefully lathering the lotion across your body before working on your skincare. You throw on your red flannel pajama shorts and step into a vintage Disneyland crewneck before walking out to light up some candles and search for a good movie. It's not until about 15 mins later that Wooyoung comes through the door, holding a brown bag in hand; duffle bag slung on his shoulder while he's also [apparently] sporting red flannel pajamas and a black Stussy hoodie.

"Copycat." Wooyoung points to your red flannel pajamas as you watch him show you his own hiding underneath his sweats.

"Excuse, I threw these on first."

"What if I got to my apartment before you stepped out?" Wooyoung cocks a brow up, making you roll your eyes in return. He snorts and rushes to hold you from behind, kissing you on the cheek. "It does look better on you, though."

"I thought so." He chuckles a bit before pointing at the bag. "So, I might've made a pitstop to the McDonald's drive-thru because I was craving a shrimp burger and some fries. I got you the chicken sandwich. With a side order for their special sauce?" He says in a questioning tone. "And fries!"

"How'd you remember?"

"Please, I've only had to do the order for you and Jiwoo a million times over the years." You giggle.

"Thank you, Woo." He sets his bag down and slips out of his sweats to walk around in his flannel pajamas before coming over to you in the living room.

"No problem." He points at your hair. "You can get sick." He crinkles his forehead at you before walking into your bathroom and grabbing your hair dryer hanging off of the organizer you have. He takes one of your wide-toothed combs and plops back onto the couch.

"Wooyoung." You look at him as you take the food out of the bag and set it on the coffee table. "You don't have to dry my hair."

"Well, I know you won't and I don't want you to get sick. I don't mind. Come." He pats the area in between his legs. Once you've set the empty bag aside, he sits you in between his legs before plugging the dryer into your extension cord. He switches it to the low heat setting, taking the blow dryer to your hair as he gently combs through. You set the TV onto Howl's Moving Castle, picking at your fries as Wooyoung continues to patiently dry your hair. "You can eat." He says over the noise. You hold up a fry for him to take in his mouth, continuing his motions until your hair is mostly dry, a few strands still damp but not too wet. "There." He says, shutting it off and gently combing through your hair.

"Thank you." He chuckles before neatly tying the cord the way you had it done earlier and slipping out from behind you to put it back in the bathroom. You've moved back onto the couch with your burger box in hand, pressing play to the movie as Wooyoung sits down.

"Yoooo." He smiles. "This is one of my favorites!" You look at him with your eyes squinted. "What?"

"You know, since you started growing out your hair, I knew you looked like someone but I could never put my finger on who exactly. And now it makes sense."

"What?" He repeats.

"You look like Howl." He blushes and does his high-pitched giggle, making you snort in response.

"You mean that?"

"Shut up. You just wanna hear it."

"I do." He pouts.

"I'll change it."

"I mean go for it, you can always look at him here on your couch." He wiggles his eyebrows.

"Wooyoung." You whine, flipping to Grave of the Fireflies.

"Baby." It's his turn to whine. He'd probably kick his feet and cry about it if he truly wanted to. "Why'd you turn it?! I heard this is hella sad!"

"Then, we'll cry together this time! A core bonding moment." You press play.

"Sassy." He looks at you. "I just wanna remind you that you ate my favorite mochi earlier." Wooyoung reminds you and you sigh.

"I already said sorry!" He laughs.

"I'm just teasing."

"Do you really not wanna watch this?"

"No, I do! I don't mind. I just thought the reminder would help since hours passed." You roll your eyes.

"I'm just gonna buy you another one tomorrow." 

"I'm kidding. Honestly." Wooyoung laughs. "You know what I could take instead?" You cock a brow up.

"Dare I even answer?"

"Too late, I'll take that as an answer." He puckers his lips. "I'll never bring it up again." He says in between. You giggle and succumb to his wants, quickly pecking him on the lips that leaves him smiling in a daze. "I'll never get tired of that." You shake your head and press play, the both of you finally eating away at your food as the movie gets on to a start without interruptions. 

You finish your food within the first 15 minutes, not realizing how hungry you were for good, sloppy comfort food. Wooyoung surprisingly remains quiet for a majority, only making noises and reacting to specific scenes. Eventually, the food coma hits you and you find yourself switching positions until you're snuggled up to Wooyoung. He takes the outer end of the couch while you lay on his chest from the inside. The blanket you leave hanging on the arm of the couch is now draped over you two, Wooyoung's arm around you to keep you close. When the movie hits the last 20 minute mark, Wooyoung starts spilling out his thoughts, but finds that your responses get more and more delayed as time goes on.

"Mhm." You answer late, causing Wooyoung to look down at you. You're damn near falling asleep on him, and it doesn't help that Wooyoung feels incredibly warm. Comfortable. He laughs a bit to himself before gently shaking your shoulder and pressing another kiss to your forehead.

"Falling asleep there?"

"Just wanna rest my eyes for like.. 5 minutes." You mumble, with Wooyoung carrying on to finish the rest of the movie by himself. Suddenly, his phone starts vibrating on the coffee table, making him swoop it up in a haste to avoid waking you up from your so-called 5-min nap.

"Ay!" Wooyoung rests the phone on his ear, regretting it as soon as San's loud ass voice comes through on the other end.

"The fuck are you so loud for?" Wooyoung says lowly, hoping this doesn't wake you.

"Kinda drunk. Wanna head out? We're gonna head to the bars!"

"Uh, nah." Wooyoung looks down while you shift in your position, snugging closer to him. "I'm good."

"What?" San laughs. "You're turning down bar hopping? For what?"

"Just cause. Plus, it's the weekday. You're gonna be so fucked tomorrow."

"Wow, that's new." San snorts. "Are you with Y/N or something?"

"Yeah. She's asleep."

"So, you won't even head out for a bit while she's asleep?"

"No, dude. I'm not gonna leave her." There's a silence that falls between them before San is clearing his throat.

"I get it. Okay then! Well, we'll be at our usuals if you change your mind."

"Probably not. But, have fun and be safe." 

"Thanks!" He says before he mumbles something to the rest of the group and hangs up the call. Wooyoung wraps up the movie and switches it to a college basketball documentary that's playing on the TV, only making it about 15 minutes more before he finds himself getting sleepy.

"Y/N." Wooyoung calls for you before he can fall asleep completely. "Let's get ready for bed so we can sleep." You let out a small whine before rubbing at your face, sitting up as Wooyoung follows suit. You sleepily waddle over to the bathroom to brush and floss your teeth with one eye barely open. You quickly check the clock outside, seeing that it's only about 11pm but it feels late. You feel exhausted. Wooyoung is tossing the trash away before wiping down your coffee table, shutting off the TV before grabbing his things from his bag. You quickly pee and wash your hands before walking over to the bed and letting Wooyoung take over the bathroom. 

The entire studio is dark at this point besides the bathroom light seeping from under the door in the corner, and for once, the dark doesn't seem so frightening, so lonely. 

So cold.

For once, the dark is soothing, is peaceful. For once, the dark is warmth because Wooyoung will be there no matter which direction you turn. You crawl under your covers, scooting towards the inside of your bed to make room for Wooyoung. He takes about 10 minutes before he shuts off the light and heads over to join you. He sheds off his hoodie and tosses it aside, slipping under the covers in his pajama pants and white tee. You continue to face him as he settles, his hand coming to your side to pull you a little closer.

"Wooyoung."

"Yeah, babygirl?"

"You know you don't have to stay at the hospital tomorrow, right? I'd be okay if you just dropped me off." He shakes his head.

"No, I don't mind. I'll stay."

"You sure?" You yawn.

"Mhm. I want to."

"You're gonna be so fired." He laughs.

"I've got hours, don't worry."

"Thank you."

"Stop thanking me, love. I'm only trying to take care of you properly." You sleepily smile at him while he kisses the tip of your nose. "We should probably sleep since we need to be up early tomorrow." You nod, his hand giving your side a squeeze. You initiate the kiss this time, feeling comfortable yet bold enough to give him a goodnight kiss. He holds it for a second longer before parting, chasing after your lips quickly after. You giggle when he starts to repeatedly kiss you and smiling into the kiss, almost having trouble prying himself off of you. "Okay, okay." He laughs. "Goodnight, pretty girl."

"Goodnight, Woo." You welcome yourself into his arms and almost fall asleep immediately, his arms feeling like home to you.

The next morning comes, and you and Wooyoung are off to the hospital about 30-mins after visiting hours begin. You found it hard to sleep fully throughout the night, anxious and scared a call from the hospital would come through about changes in Papa's status. But, thankfully, none of the sort happened, and Wooyoung did his best to keep you comfortable throughout the night by whispering his reassurances against your head.

Through sweet, gentle touches and squeezes. 

To your relief, Papa looks brighter and more alert when you walk in. He's already slowly going through his oatmeal, the morning news on the TV screen. He smiles when he sees the both of you walk in, loosely hand-in-hand. You happily walk over to Papa and hug him, sitting on the edge of his bed while you place a hand on his forehead.

"How'd you sleep?" You ask, his temp feeling way better than the past days.

"Good! I was in a deep sleep." You laugh.

"No pain or anything?" He shakes his head. "Good. Everything seems to be working. You might be outta here tomorrow!"

"I just might." He chuckles. "The nurse said she was gonna come back and wash me up. Was hoping to get me up and walking around to get some movement in, too."

"That's a good idea. Let's go on a walk later." Wooyoung says as he sits on the chair by his bed. You nod in agreement, watching as Papa continues to eat away at his oatmeal and fruits. 

"Do you need to go home?"

"Mm." Wooyoung looks at his phone. "I was going to just to make some food for us."

"You should go. We'll be fine."

"You sure?"

"Yes." You give him a look, and he can't help but return the look in a playful manner.

"I'll go in a bit, but I'll be quick when I do." He tugs on your hand. "Come sit and relax." You sit in the empty chair next to Wooyoung. You continue to ask Papa about his night and if the doctor visited this morning. He says yes, sharing the optimism from the doctor despite the fact that he'll have to make a few lifestyle changes moving forward. You share in the excitement, agreeing that Papa looks way better and seems to be progressing back to his old self. You and Wooyoung let him know that you'll be there every step of the way, making sure those changes are implemented smoothly. Papa starts to tell you about his dream, and how he was hiking up a tall mountain without any issue. At the end of the trail was a beautiful view of a city, but he couldn't pinpoint where exactly. He describes all the pretty flowers blossoming on his way to the top, the sky clear and blue. He jokes about how he hopes he can make it come true soon, even if its a local hike. You chuckle, telling him he needs to take it easy for awhile until he fully regains strength and he remains stable for a good period. Wooyoung chimes in, volunteering to join him when that time comes.

When the conversation settles, Wooyoung takes this as an opportunity to head out so he can come back right away. He heads back to his apartment to whip up a good lunch and dinner [along with whatever snacks are lying around] to pack up for the two of you to grub on. While he occupies himself with food prep, he calls San to check on him and to ask him how the night went. As expected, his bestfriend is hung over as shit at work, groaning and complaining about how he drank too much and should've paced himself knowing he had work. Wooyoung laughs at him over the phone, giving him his own version of an 'i told you so' before San lowly cusses him out. He asks about you and Papa and if everything seems to be better. Wooyoung lets him know that Papa's improved, and that he was able to talk everything out with you. There's another silence that falls between them and it's because San simply isn't used to this Wooyoung. He's used to the Wooyoung that was a 'lil shit, playing his game and being up and about no matter what the time or day was. He's used to the Wooyoung that wasn't messing with serious relationships and the Wooyoung that had to give the 'i think you should go' talk after every fuck. Or the 'it was never supposed to get this serious' talk when the girls would find themselves talking to him about feelings.

It's just been a long, long time since San has seen this Wooyoung, and quite frankly, he wasn't sure if he would ever see it again. But, don't get him wrong. He is happy for you two, and it's almost like fresh air hearing Wooyoung talk about you the way he does. He's gonna have to get used to seeing less and less of him, and that's fine— as long as Wooyoung was genuinely happy.

RIP to those days, though. It was fun while it lasted!

Once Wooyoung finally finishes whipping up some food and packing it away, he grabs a few other necessities; fully expecting to be with you tonight so that he can help you with Papa's potential release tomorrow. He's glad he told work he'd be out for the week. Even though it was a bit last minute, he does have a shit ton of PTO and sick hours accumulated that he doesn't mind using if it meant he'd be with you.

God, he really fucking likes you. 

So much that Wooyoung finds a 'lil pep in his step walking back to his car, plopping the bag of food right onto his passenger's seat— buckling it up to keep it safe and steady. He blasts his music out of the parking lot, Mr. Donnell Jones coming through on his speakers with U Know What's Up. He sings along until he's rudely interrupted by a call coming through from his sister.

"Damn, Jiwoo. You couldn't call any other time?" Wooyoung clicks his teeth. "What is it?"

"I just got back to my apartment from the airport, jeez. Can I swing by?"

"No. I just left."

"Then do you think you can stop by really quickly? I got you a few things from Japan." Which, as we've learned, is Jiwoo's way of apologizing without having to flat out apologize to her brother. Wooyoung rolls his eyes and lets out a sigh, shaking his head as if she can see him.

"Can't either."

"Why not?"

"Because. I'm on the way to the hospital."

"Uh. For what?"

"Well, while you were too busy being all upsetti-spaghetti, Papa's been in the hospital."

"What? Why didn't Y/N tell me anything?! Oh my god—"

"Jiwoo, if I were her, I would not be thinking about you first either." Wooyoung furrows his brows as he continues to drive off. "Besides, you being the good ol' bestfriend you are, kicked her outta your place, remember? I don't think she necessarily feels like she can come to you right now."

"Fuck." Jiwoo whines, feeling guilty about everything. She knows she was a tad too harsh, and she knows she should've come to you first. But, she was waiting until she could see you in person to apologize for the way she acted. "Which hospital?"

"SNU."

"I'll be there soon with Joong." 

"Don't come if you plan on yelling some more."

"I'm not! I need to see my bestfriend, Wooyoung. You can't have her to yourself."

"Can't hear you—" With that, Wooyoung abruptly ends the call. He drives into the garage and finds a spot on the third level, carrying the bag of food he made in his hand before making the trek over to Papa's room. 

"You're back." Your eyes twinkle when you see him walk in and he can't help but smile.

"That, I am." He presses a kiss to your temple. "I made some food for lunch and dinner. Or else my groceries were gonna go bad."

"Wow, okay chef." You laugh. "Thank you, Woo." 

"Mhm." He responds in a sing-song tone before turning to Papa, who is now coming out of the bathroom with his nurse. "He's up."

"He is!" She answers.

"Am I allowed to take him on a walk and get some steps in?"

"No, please. Go for it. Thank you." The nurse steps aside to let Wooyoung guide Papa and the IV pole out into the hallway. The nurse watches them until they head out, returning her attention back to you once they leave.

"Is that your boyfriend?"

"Mm. A friend that's a boy?" You tease with a small laugh. She gets it though, and she knows. You didn't even have to say it because she can clearly see it through Wooyoung's actions alone.

"Well, he seems to care a lot about you and your grandfather. It's very sweet."

"He is." You give her a toothless smile. "Thank you for taking care of him. I really appreciate it."

"No problem. He's been good, so I'm more than sure he'll be out of here tomorrow." You nod, watching as she walks out of the room. You sit back and look through the bag Wooyoung brought, giggling to yourself when there's a whole bag of sour punch straws and other random snacks surrounding the tupperwares. You pick at the tiny bag of biscoff cookies, nibbling onto one as you sit back and catch up on one of the podcasts you actively follow. 

Just as Wooyoung and Papa come back into the room about 30 minutes later, you scurry off to the bathroom down the hall. At this point, Jiwoo and Hongjoong barely miss you as they turn the corner and approach the room. Wooyoung is helping Papa get situated properly back in the bed post-walk, the two talking about the episode from his cooking show that's currently playing on TV. When he turns towards the door and catches Jiwoo'a figure, he gives her a small nod of acknowledgement.

"Joong, I think an intruder snuck in with you." Jiwoo rolls her eyes while Hongjoong laughs it off, the two of them formally greeting Papa and checking in with him. Jiwoo looks around the room, making sure she hasn't missed you before turning to her brother.

"Where'd she go?"

"Bathroom." Wooyoung gives his sister a particular look. 

"Don't give me that look." She pouts a bit and he shrugs.

"What else am I supposed to do?" Is all he says before you appear in the doorway, pausing in your steps when you noticed the additional visitors in the room.

"Oh. Hi—" Jiwoo comes rushing over, pulling you into the biggest bear hug known to man. At first, you're caught off guard even though this has happened during silly little one-off fights with Jiwoo in the past. But, once you've gotten over the initial feeling, you slowly wrap your arms around her and rest in her hold.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N. I really am so sorry. I shouldn't have done all of that, I shouldn't have yelled and kicked you out— I'm so sorry." She mumbles against you. "You must've felt so alone. I'm sorry. I wanted to wait until I saw you in person again but Wooyoung told me Papa was here so I had to come. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gotten so angry and said those things—" She continues to repeat until she's basically sobbing in your arms, the three men in the back minding their own business and giving you two space.

"It's fine, Jiwoo. Stop apologizing."

"No, it's not." She pulls back and looks at you with a pout, brushing your hair back. "I treated you so poorly and unfairly and I'm so sorry."

"It's okay. I probably would've reacted the same way if I was in your shoes. It's fine. We're okay."

"Are you sure we are? I promise I'll make it up to you."

"Stop that. You don't need to, okay? I promise we're fine." She lets out a sigh and examines your features, somewhat relieved you don't seem too exhausted or stressed from everything going on.

"Are you and my brother good? Did you talk it out?"

"We did."

"So, is this a thing now?" She points between you and him, and you nod timidly.

"Y-yeah. It is. I hope you're not mad."

"I'm not. I'm only slightly grossed out just cause it's Wooyoung, but I'm not mad. You just let me know if he messes up ever again, okay? I'm sorry, Y/N. And wait, don't think about replacing me with him either." You snort, shaking your head at her. She hugs you tightly again before holding your hand and bringing you to the gift bags she set aside at the corner of the room. She hands you and Papa a gift bag, while shoving Wooyoung's his way. Her and Hongjoong tell you a little bit about the trip, but they don't go into too much detail before they start asking about Papa and how he had been feeling. As the conversation continues, Jiwoo notices the way Wooyoung completely changes around you [in a good way]. He's got you on his lap, hand gently caressing your arm. It looks so natural and so.. meant to be [and so not out of place] that Jiwoo can't even be mad or find a reason to justify her past actions. He cares about you, and you with him.

All she's ever wanted was for you to be happy, for Wooyoung to be genuinely happy. She's not gonna lie— it does melt her heart a bit to see it live.

They hang around for a good hour or so before Jiwoo and Hongjoong give Papa some time to rest; Wooyoung offering to walk them back to the car while you stay behind and sit with him as he falls into an afternoon nap. Hongjoong quickly runs over to the bathroom, leaving Jiwoo and her brother alone momentarily.

"You really care about her." Jiwoo says softly.

"Yeah, I do." He stuffs his hands in his pockets and kicks at the imaginary rocks below his feet.

"Don't fuck this up, okay?" She looks at him. "Seriously, I'll beat your ass if you hurt her."

"I won't, Jiwoo." He says, slightly annoyed. But, he knows she means well and is just being your bestfriend. "Could help if you had a little more hope in me, you know?"

"Okay. I'm sorry." She sighs. "So, what are your plans with her? You haven't asked her out officially, right?"

"Well, that's why I'm gonna take her out on a date once Papa's out and better."

"To where?"

"To mind your own business, that's where." He looks at her with a brow cocked up and she rolls her eyes.

"Idiot." He snorts.

"Actually.. I have a few ideas but there's this one I really like. Think she might have fun and enjoy it with me."

—TAGLIST: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @heyitsmetonid @ldysmfrst @intaksfav @wooyoungsbrat @hyukssunflower @yunhoswrldddd @gotthicbish @thespiffynerd @jaytheatiny @yoonrixx @aurorajoye @i-love-ateez @starrywoo @bitejoongie @thedistractedwriter @dalsuwaha @huachengsbestie01

[nobody-is-here01]

back on my bullshit, (im here to spam you Marine Luffy stuff)

Thinking about Marine Luffy’s dynamic with the 7 warlords and it's one of the funniest things ever.

Boa Hancock is going to get her own post because I have SO MUCH to say about her and Canon! Luffy along with Marine Luffy’s dynamic with her.

Anyway, personal headcanons of what I think Marine Luffy and the Warlords dynamics are.

Doflamingo: Luffy is usually the one who during Warlord meetings has to deal with Doflamingo’s bullshit. This is partially because Luffy is the only thing that really puts the fear of god back into Doflamingo. Also, Marine luffy is absolutely feral, and terrifying, and does indeed bite. I think in some twisted ways Luffy in this AU reminds Doflamingo of when he's younger. In some fucked up way of trying to cope with trauma Doflamingo tries to simulate situations that he went through as a kid to see how Luffy reacts. To see if things had been a bit better, if things had been different, if Doflamingo could have been a better person. The Dressrosa Arc still happens in this AU except a bit later. As Doflamingo’s tyrant rein finally falls he realizes that “huh maybe we never were that similar…”

(I have no idea if this AU is a Crocomom AU or not but I’ll go ahead and write up how it would go in either situations.)

Crocodile: Dynamic is definitely more cold and distant than in an AU where Crocodile is Luffy’s other parent. Luffy is seen as a threat, and Crocodile has at least 15 different drawn-up plans on how to deal with him. (none of these plans would actually work in practice.) The dynamic is pretty much just business, you leave me be I’ll leave you be.

Crocomom: Similar to the first one. Except the first time he meets Luffy and he hears that he's Garp's grandkid he's freaking the fuck out. Because holyshit, that's his alive, grownup, kid. Crocodile has no idea how to explain to Luffy that like “hey im your biological mother, now a man, hahaha…” So Crocodile simply doesn't. (The two of them do have a heart-to-heart much later alone in Impel down during the breakout.)

Moria: Honestly I don't have much to say about him. Luffy absolutely hates Hogback and Absolom though. So Luffy has a dislike for Moria and what he does. But Moria out of all the warlords not including Kuma is the easiest to deal with, so that earns him some brownie points.

Kuma: Im not sure if you caught up with the latest chapters. (specifically his backstory chapters) so I will be staying silent for now as not to spoil anything for you.

Mihawk: Mihawk is both intrigued and concerned at the beginning. Because that is Shank’s hat, and Shank’s kid. Why is Shank’s brat in the Marines?? Mihawk also like all the other warlords tends to use Luffy as some form of a coping mechanism. It's not uncommon to hear about Luffy and Mihawk getting into another physical fight. But after a while, Mihawk does realize that he has been accidentally treating Luffy as if he is Shanks. Mihawk realizes that he can't force Luffy to become his new sparring partner. Luffy is not Shanks, and he can't fill that hole either. After Marine Ford Mihawk reads the news regularly, a rare grin on his face whenever he catches sight of a straw hat.

Jinbei: That is Luffy’s emotional support parental figure your honor! The only one who is normal, safe, and sane. Also, the only one to look at Luffy and go “Are you okay?? I don't think healthy humans are supposed to act like that.” Also, the one to get Luffy to open up and heal slowly after Marineford. Also Luffy definitely knows the full truth of what happened to Fisher Tiger in this AU, so yeah that's something.

(I am so sorry, this is a really long post 💀)

Aaaahhhhhh!!! I've missed you and your bullshit bombarding my asks!

I love how with each dynamic all of them are also like, 'alright this kid is fucked up, keep an eye on him' but for different reasons

So here are some of my thoughts on what Marine Luffy’s relationship is with the warlords (love yours so much)

Crocodile : so unfortunately not a coco-mom au, like you said their relationship is strictly business, Luffy doesn't really care for the warlords as long as they don't get in his way.

Domflamingo : Luffy finds him kinda annoying so he tries to avoid any situation where he would meet him, unfortunately he can't at warlord meetings, but he's tried, probably one of the only warlords Luffy wouldn't mind punching out of the blue, dude would punch him without reason (gets away with it too)

Kuma : (no sadly not that far yet but I know a bit of his background not much though) but Luffy likes him

Moria : almost the same relationship as Domflamingo, except he just straight up avoids him, unless he has to deal with Moria then he will and he'll do it quickly

Mihawk : one of the few warlords Luffy actually respects, he admires his fighting and his character, granted it annoyed him a bit to constantly be reminded of Shanks, like you said he also like the other warlords used luffy as some form of coping, but after he realized what he did he stopped and him and Luffy kinda became like gossip buddies, like they'd hang out whenever Mihawk was in the area, but Luffy wouldn't actively seek him out, Mihawk would have to come to him if he wanted someone to talk to or spar with,

Jimbe : only warlord and person that Luffy actually likes from the warlords, yes he likes Mihawk, but Jimbe is different, Luffy has a sort of awe for Jimbe and felt very honored to know about him and his past with Fisher Tiger, Jimbe is the only one who knows that Luffy secretly wishes he was a pirate instead of a Marine, when Jimbe asked why Luffy didn't just become a pirate now Luffy replied saying that he's made so many promises to the people he protects that he doesn't want to go back, not now at least, Jimbe is also the only one who knows about Ace and Sabo and how much Luffy misses them and how proud he is of them

absolutely love your asks 🩷

Have aa good day/night

[lsunstreakerl]

Hiiii

I havent sent any asks or comments in a while because I was fully burried by uni but here I am finally🥳 (I should be studing pharmacology at the moment but who wants to do that? Not me🫢)

AWW I HAVE SO MANY THINGS I WANT TO SAY. First everything you write is still amazing. I read everything as soon as I could. So many spectacular stories. Both the search verse and the new fic. I got to the point were I check immediatelly in the morning if you uploaded anything.

The GP and Max relationship is amazing in both and they are both so different but similar at the same time.

Im so excited for the deep dives you plan to do here. I think Im gonna separate my thoughts so its more manageable.

Search history:

I didnt expect to enjoy fopa as much as I did. I was surprised how interesting and enjoyable their side story was, looking forward to reading more about them.

GP and Max’s relationship is beautiful. Max learning to trust GP and slowly realise that he is not a burden. Admit to himself that GP was the one who raised him and tought him not Jos. Realise that this is how it should be, that parents shoud care and listen to their kids. Aww soo good.

Charles’s and Max’s relationship is amazing as well. To see their teenage selfs (mostly Max) be oblivious while everyone expects them to get together in the future. Loved GP’s comments to his wife about the personal drama

Also I loved the last chapter. Max working through his trauma and telling Charles about it. Beautifully written.

Famiglia:

Amazing how you write their relationships different but still very similar. Max is not the same person because he grew up in a loving home with GP but still he is the same in all things that matter.

Loved to dutch accent bit sooooo much. At first I didnt notice that he was speaking and then I went back to realise that the first thing GP heard was the word dad😫😫

Also Max and Charles still being connected by racing even tho Max cant race🤯 Him supporting Charles through is carrier, Charles wanting him on his team in F1 ahhhh so good. Charles immediatly recognising Max when he saw him driving.🥺 The hand massage🫠🤭

Yeah this became a bit long sorry😬🥴 I could yap about all your fics for eternity

sorry this took so long to respond, the mobile app wouldn't let me say anything 😭 you are so brave studying pharmacology it is my least favorite subject in the entire world EXCEPT for histology. (honestly, I should also be studying pharmacology rn. I'm just not doing it lol)

writing the Max and GP relationship to be just as meaningful but still different shaped on their experiences has actually been kind of hard, but I'm enjoying the challenge.

I am the conductor for the fopa train at this point. I'm not sure if anyone else really writes them? so I guess I'm holding down the frontlines of the fopa tag 🫡

teenage lestappen continues to absolutely ridiculous about each other, no matter what, in any universe. love that for them.

Alice knows all the redbull drama. all of it. she remembers it all too, that women is a treasure trove of embarrassing little gems for the entire team. everyone gets scared when she's at a team event because she knows it all.

showing Max a little bit softer in Famiglia has been fun! on the one hand, he's still got some of those concerning mindsets from when he was a kid, but he's much more open about his love and his family than he is in Search History.

yeah, GP cried about that one.

the Dutch accent is so funny, because poor Max has been in the UK for like seven years at this point, he signs in BSL, he thinks in british english, but when he speaks he's got a dutch accent still 😭 him and GP keep getting startled by it. (max also keeps not expecting his voice to be as low as it is lmfao)

charles could NOT figure out MP until he saw him in the kart and then he was like -_- "are u fr rn verstappen"

and then he decides he's keeping max this time, no more disappearing acts for him.

the hand massage 😭

[lappel-du-vide83]

You know when brains merge together stuff you know like ooh this is cool let me add it to my obssession

Yeah so have og cale and asoue TOGETHER

Okay so obvious parallels first: the three siblings. The henituse county might have fallen during the battle but doesn't mean they had to die then and there. If i may be so mean, the siblings died one by one with ogcale the last one standing.

The extended family members are already presented in the story as douchebags so why not make it one step further and make them secretly work for the white star?

So it goes, once the henituse county fell, without Deruth and Violan to take charge, the reconstriction is delegated to an extended family member but with none of the existing family members willing to take on this burden in times of unrest, they come across a thames willing to take over who is very eager andhella suspicious (the evil uncle if you will) (also i have yet to read past like chapter 200 in part 2 of tcf so the hunter lore WILL be headcannon). And surprise, surprise, he wants the henituse fortune. (the want for money runs in the family) So begins the torment as the siblings protect eachother and try to find a way out. They finally manage to convince someone from deruths side to take them in, finally escaping his clutches.

Thus begins the hunt.

The uncle starts killing every new guardian they get and they try explaining that this mysterious uncle that is not one record wants then either dead or in his clutches but no one will listen to them. They get called the bearers of misfortune that will kill anyone that cares for them and why would anyone believe them? One's trash and the other two aren't even adults.

Bonus points if, like i said earlier, if they were working for the white star, the very bane of their existance and the reason why their family is dead. Because yes, how awful, but they were still better than living under that guy and there's this guilty conflict of emotions.

Now unfortunately, canon dictates (wait does it tho im not actually sure) that i must kill off the siblings so it happens as freak accidents--unexpected and something that couldnt be prepared for. They were already living on the edge but then something slips past (more pain of its a betrayal) and (e.g) basen dies. And it slowly consumes the other two because they couldnt protect him because why was it him it should have been me.

And then its lily. She dies honourably in battle because she wouldn't have it any other way but it ruins cale because what if he's the reason everyone he loves is dying?(i stand by the parallels in ogcale and krs life) He's literally been the centre of it--the only one connecting these deaths.

There's no one else for him to blame and take the anger out on because i think the uncle would die tragically and in vain too(cant believe he spent part of his life hunting down kids) and now there's nothing tying cale down except his obsession to kill the white star anddd we come to the part where he signs up for the final battle and dies.

In the middle, i think it will be cool if he encouters the hunters and theyre like the vfd. They keep seeing references to it everywhere and meet members that either want to help or kill them but never get a concrete answer for who they are and everytime they get close to finding out the truth something stops them (or just cale trying to find out who the FRICK his mom was being affiliated with for them to cause mass destruction so easily)

And just like asoue we get an ambiguous ending. Is he happy? Is he not? Who knows--not the readers! But we can imagine he is for our mental health.

Dang the angst is strong but i think it gives way for more thames lore and sibling shenanigans and, well, more angst and this was run on 11pm hyperfixation so ill add more if i can think of it. Hope you enjoyed reading! Also lemme know if you can think of more i would love to read it

[monstersinthecosmos]

HI <3 Sheith VC anon here back with a very humble request. So I've read TVL and am currently reading QoTD, just finished the Devil's Minion chapter (oH mY gOD my HEART). I'm going through the books a bit slowly bc life stuff, but I have sooooo many thoughts and feelings and feel like I need to read lots of fic to work through it LOL. I would love it if you could rec me some (or tons of!) fics that wouldn't give me (m)any spoilers re: stuff that happens after this point in the series. I realize this might be a kind of hard/maybe impossible request because a lot of those spoilers would be referring to things that chronologically would have taken place prior to DM for instance, but I'm so starved I thought I might ask just in case! I'm not suuuper partial to any specific ships (Lestat/Louis is a bit boring IMO 😭 but I love them so I'll take it) and I don't have any NOTPs, so I'm down to read pretty much anything (esp if it's spicy and/or hurts my heart and/or features Armand lmao). Totally fine if this is too much trouble or if it turns out to be an impossible ask indeed; thank you in advance anyway! AND THANK YOU AGAIN for introducing me to these brain-rotting books lol I spend like half my waking hours thinking about Armand now.

SHGKJALDS I SPEND HALF MY WAKING HOURS THINKING ABOUT ARMAND TOO SINCE LIKE THE YEAR 2000 LMFAO im so glad you see!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU GET IT MAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So babe tbh the reason I started writing Armand/Daniel fic at all is because there really ... isn't that much? And I was like GUESS I GOTTA FUCKIN COOK FOR MYSELF. So tbh I haven't actually read a ton of VC fic at all. The otp:true filter for them on AO3 (excluding TVverse fics) only has 237 fics hdkjgalds but you can start here LOL. I think for the most part you'll be able to tell in the tags if it's post-QOTD because people usually will tag like "post canon" or "Prince Lestat Era"; for QOTD fics check for a Devil's Minion/Devil's Minion Era tag. I don't always remember to tag my own fics but my only post-canon D/A fic is called "In the Trials of the Heart" and all my others are Devil's Minion era and shouldn't spoil anything ! Be aware that the TV fandom and book fandom sometimes overlap so there might be stray TV fics in the book tag; it won't spoil anything bc the TV canon is a completely different story, but it might not make sense if you jump in to read it. So without actual fic recs I'll share some authors that I really trust!! Have a look through their VC fics!!!!!!!

apoptoses (pervert extraordinaire 10/10, all the D/A fics are Devil's Minion era except for Blood Sanation so go nuts!) covenofthearticulate (this is Ash, she actually writes Loustat & Louis/Armand mostly but she's so smart and I trust her so much!!!!) Diabolus_Invictus HekateInHell (writes a lot of Lestat/Armand and also has a human AU called Our House that I'm obsessed with!) ImhereImQuire Nothing_But_Paisley rainandcoffee (if you're sick of all of our doom&gloom you can find fluff and lightness here!) whisperbird (just one VC fic but I think about it every day of my life I love it)

Whenever I remember I try to post VC fics that I do read, kinda like how Sheith fandom does Wednesday Fics, I try to tag #VCFicFriday so try there too!

Anyway if anyone wants to add to this post and share recs PLEASE DO I actually am not a great fic reader bc my attention span sucks and I'm picky about canon compliant porn LOL! But help our new friend out if you want to share any!!!!!!!!!!!!

[ontherocks21]

First Line Game

Tagged by @padmeanddorme, thank you for giving me a fun little break in the insanity that is my life right now!

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don't be shy and share anyway!

Changing the rules a lil bit and putting the first lines of my wip updates (as a way of saying im working on them i promiseeeee) :))

I'm going to follow @whayjhey's change-up to the rules because I too am still slowly working on quite a few projects that I promise are not abandoned! :D

Interlude (Chapter 13): It’s not for the sake of Padmé’s modesty that Dormé lingers for several minutes after MD-33 emerges from the residential wing.

2. Festival (Part VI): Sola gasped aloud when she sees her little sister descending the main staircase in the ebony twin of her sweater dress.

3. Revelations (Chapter 15): Padmé tried not to openly stare when Anakin reappeared, but her husband had a habit of making an entrance, and this time was no exception.

4. From A Certain Point of View (Palpatine): I picked the wrong girl; she was supposed to become the new mother figure to Anakin, not become the actual mother of his children.

5. Afterglow (Part 3): The faintest press of her palm sends him skittering sideways, Padmé’s laugh a melodic backdrop to his involuntary gasp and the rhythm of his heels slipping across the marble floor.

6. Discovery (Prologue): The High Council sat in stunned silence as Coruscant's lone sun sank below the horizon, plummeting the elite members within the pinnacle tower of the Jedi Temple into darkness.

7. Fireside/Remedy (One-Shot): The thunderstorm arrives without warning, its whipping winds and forked lightning so simultaneously mesmerizing and terrifying that Anakin can hardly believe soft and beautiful Naboo can harbor such dangerous ferocity.

8. Six Degrees of Shuura (One-Shot): Fruit - Even before Anakin tries shuura fruit for the first time, he already knows he's going to love it.

9. Five Things Anakin Learned After He Married Padmé (One-Shot): Padmé is a heat-seeking missile when she sleeps.

10. Handmaiden (fever): The Corellian flu sweeps through the halls of the Rotunda, consuming everyone in its path like lava flowing and spewing unchecked down the blackened plains of Mustafar.  

Tagging (no pressure to play!): @darth-jess, @skywalkr-nberrie, @sammys-magical-au, @now-you-sound-like-a-jedi, @rose-arwen-padme + anyone else who wants to play along!

PS: Now there's 10 open Word documents staring expectantly at me even though it's past my bedtime... Oops!

First Line Game

Tagged by @kayedium-writes, thank you!

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don't be shy and share anyway!

Changing the rules a lil bit and putting the first lines of my wip updates (as a way of saying im working on them i promiseeeee) :))

make me wanna make you fall in love (ch18) - Padmé took a quick glance at the clock before squeezing her eyes shut.

got sunshine on a cloudy day (ch2) - For someone who's very much determined to keep living for a precocious but otherwise adorable kid, Anakin really wanted to die on the spot.

could be the story of another us (ch3) - PADMÉ (TEXT) Hey, did you happen to see our schedule this week?

a jedi academy au ive been meaning to write (oops) - Had Anakin known that his first day (at what he already decided was a stupid school) would turn out the way that it did… he would’ve never agreed to have come here in the first place.

young queen and a jedi au ive also been meaning to write (oops) - She sees him first.

^ supposed sequel to that (oops) - He steps closer, just enough for him to show off how much he's grown over the years. 

another modern anidala au featuring my two fave dorks with two completely different personalities - It’s convenient, Padmé swears.

tagging: @aleksandriel @padmeanddorme @politicalprocrastinator @thescreamsofinnocents @missbehave-onnaboo ++ anyone who wants to do this

[eldrbraus]

here we go again.

TWISTED WONDERLAND BOOK 7 CHAPTER 3 SPOILERS.

a small summary with the most important parts and not a dialogue translation. once again, dont trust me a lot on the dialogue parts as this is more of a general summary of what happened. also its a live reaction for the most part so its not exactly super coherent.

·we begin the chapter on idias room, and... ortho is calling him on his phone?

·idia is extremely confused because ortho is supposed to be with him at the nrc but apparently ortho is in the rsa...? hes a student there and its the day of the opening ceremony for both schools, huh! so apparently ortho is alive now. cool cool cool.

·this has to be a dream.

·idia is just as confused as we are honestly, it takes him a while to understand whats happening but everything seems to fall into place after a while

·oh he got a message from crimson muscle ;; they talk about games and something and basically still talk about how they are both going to an event tonight but wont connect the dots www

·they play all day until night and then idia puts on his robes and holy shit hes actually going to the ceremony himself and not by tablet lmao

·idia finds malleus on his way to the mirrors chamber and... malleus has his gao gao all grown up? even when the dragon cant technically do that, its weird. the both of them nerd a lot about the game and apparently idia and malleus have a really good relationship

·yeah this is most definitely a dream because malleus actually went to the ceremony and took the diasomnia students himself instead of lilia ww

·idia comes back to the dorm after all of that and talks with ortho again. apparently rsa is pretty similar to nrc [roomates are the same, theres dormleaders...], except people are actually nice in there www

·we switch pow to yuu/grim [yuu had the sleeping beauty vision just now, aurora was almost stung by the needle]

·they are in a different room in the ramshackle dorm? but they remember the whole thing with the overblot, unlike idia

·they are trying to get out but... apparently cant and now all the furniture is alive. what.

·if this is yuus dream im going to ask myself what the fuck was yuu smoking before they fell asleep honestly

·oh grim ate... something? [grim stop eating random shit i beg of you] and became a gigant but came back to normal after a little while

·yuu says that all of this made them remember what mickey said and... mickey appears ww [a friend told me that the music when mickey appears is... kingdom hearts music? no idea i didnt play the game]

·apparently yuu and grim are on mickeys... dream? dimension? no idea

·they all talk about a little bit of everything, about how yuu is trying to go back to their world, and apparently mickey doesnt have/uses magic so he also has no idea why the room is alive rn. ok great.

·mickey says that he only goes to that world when hes asleep, and now yuu is worried about that because if this is a dream... where the fuck is their body? in diasomnia still?

·a phone rings? and mickey disappears because hes waking up :(

·a lot of blot appears and theres like... a new type of monster and this mf has 50k HP help

·grim is slowly getting out of magic and wants to protect yuu but he cant, poor kitty

·holy shit silver appeared and rescued yuu and grim with... his UM! it got revealed! the name is “Meet in a dream”

·we switch pow to... ortho! who apparently is sleeping in his body BUT hes also on the internet because his consciousness is not tied up to his body ww. we kinda predicted this one

·ortho is trying to wake idia using all the devices on his room but nothing works. he goes around the island and everything is dark, full of thorns and blot and everyone, even the animals, are asleep :(

·apparently even time has stopped??? malleus is op as fuck, even ortho is worried about that

·he tries to contact STYX of course but all communications are just cut off from the exterior... my poor son is all alone

·he says something about an... anthena???? that hes gonna use to get into STYX... internet ig??? lmao something like that. he uses that to go to STYX via the internet apparently ww

·aand we switch pov to STYX where a man with a helmet is kind of nervous, with all the personel. so they do know about the whole thing already, huh

·holy shit they are saying everyone might be dead lmao. so negative-

·oh wait another character appeared, this time a woman with a helmet saying that they musnt lose hope just yet. im betting my everything they are idias parents.

·YUP. THEY ARE. damn the mom is a catgirl ww

·its a shame their heads are covered up

·ortho arrived! [its a call, ortho is not physically on STYX] god this is so cute we get a lot of famiy talk, the mom was so worried about both shroud brothers ;;

·ortho explains everything and something something, apparently the parents said that they should wait for malleus magic to run out but then they remembered that fae get their power from the nature so malleus magic could last forever and it could even EXPAND EVEN MORE. shit.

·they want to contact Briar Valley! cool, lets see those fae folk.

·ortho says “nam fam i got this” and that his parents need to make him new gear, and the mom refuses dsfkjbnsdjfknd she says its too dangerous but ortho said he would take the cerberus with him if they dont do it. bitch if that was my mother i would be SO grounded. the mom agrees after ortho disappears but shes that she will remember this ww

·some time pases and the gear is ready so ortho comes back and the mom yells at him that he shouldnt have hang up the call because you cant hung up your mom like that WWWW.

·the mom told ortho to not tell idia about the fact that she can get into idias pc anytime she wants [because she used that to get the new ortho gear blueprint], but he tells her that idia will know the moment ortho appears in front of him with his gear WWWWWWWWWW why are they so funny help

·orthos mind gets into the gear and hes now physically in STYX on his new body... aww the shroud hug and the parents tell him that both of the shroud brothers are their children even if ortho is an android and to be careful im going to fucking cry.

·we are back to silver/yuu/grim pov and after silver helped them, they are just... fucking falling down from the sky what the fuck

·silver made an spell so they fall to the ground without dying ww

·they are in diasomnia now, and silver says that this is all a dream but that he doesnt know whos person is. apparently he has seen mickey before on his dreams, which he finds weird because his UM can only make him go to the dreams of people he knows

·smth smth about exams, not really important

·silver comments how he cant choose the dream hes going to end up in, but that he can find out because a bird (?) flies next to the host of the dream, and... soon they find sebek with a bird (?) so this is sebeks dream

·silver is taken by sebek to a party they are doing because lilia and malleus finally choose where are they going in their fourth year...? grim asks if this is the farewell party for lilia again, because of the whole “he doesnt have magic now” and sebek is super offended that grim thinks lilia doesnt have magic now WWWWW

·malleus is going to do his fourth year to the country of heroes (?) and lilia to the country of the crimson dragon, silver asks lilia if he would go back to their house once his fourth year is done and lilia says of course because thats his home ;;

·silver cant take it anymore and said that this is all a farce, a dream... and that he would like for lilia to go back to this house with him but he doubts lilia will be alive by then holy shit silver ;;;;;

·he tells sebek to remember everything and that this is not reality but no one listens to him. he keeps going on this and malleus completely loses it uh

·he screams that he knows the three of them are awake and that they shouldnt try and ruin (?) the dreams and 

·sebek goes to defend malleus and challenges silver to a fight! nooooooo my son ;;

·while they fight sebek begins to remember everything and finally sees malleus overblot so he stops

·the four of them wake up and fight overblot malleus once again, but once again they lose and... silver asks the three of them to hold his hand (sebek complained about it but did it anyways), screen goes black

·apparently malleus tried to make them sleep more deeply so they wouldnt wake up this time, and its working because silver is having a hard time trying to use his magic... but the ring that lilia gave him is shining in the dark! so he follows that and

·the four of them appear in a forest... wait its the sleeping beauty forest! so this has to be briar valley!

·suddenly soldiers appear, with masks... they are 100% fae because they are talking in a language only sebek understands ww

·PAST LILIA APPEARED IT HAS TO BE HIM BECAUSE HE IS SMOL AND HAS THE RED-BLACK HAIR HELP [he has a mask so we cant see his face!]

·he told them “shut up, humans” so mean.... its confirmed that they are on lilias dream...

and the fucking chapter ends. HELP. how am i supposed to wait months for more this was so shorttttt ;;

and lilia looked so good in that outfit FUCKKK I NEED MORE.

[dramioneasks]

do you have any fics like ‘the silver dragon’ by kittenshift17??? i’m talking BAMF granger and magical creatures and a mystery to solve? i actually really like when there’s a good relationship w/ potter, supeeer into discovering new kinds of magic alongside dramione! secret relationship and they are coworkers!! tyyyyy for all you do; im so excited y’all are about to make my quarantine 🤧😮‍💨

Harry Potter and the Elemental Mage by SilverPatronus19 - T, 4 Works - Beginning with an unexpected desire to protect a mere Mudblood, Draco Malfoy embarks on an adventure he never anticipated. As he experiences strange magic, joins with unexpected allies, and faces an unknown enemy, he realizes he might be willing to sacrifice his own life for a cause he never believed to exist.

Secrets and Masks - Emerald_Slytherin - M, WIP - 9 years after the battle of Hogwarts, the war still rages on and everyone is much changed since their days at Hogwarts. Hermione is the most lethal soldier in The Order, spending her days on rescue missions to free captured Muggleborn slaves and fight on the front line. For years, she's been meeting in secret with a spy within Voldemort's ranks to exchange information. But, when she's captured and made prisoner at Malfoy Manor,  of all the dark and evil ways she'd envisioned Malfoy would torture her, she never quite imagined anything this horrific.  

They All Taste the Same - MistressLynn - E, 20 chapters - Draco has always wanted Hermione, but a recent change has him wanting her even more. Post-Hogwarts, wartime, non-DH compliant…………………… Hermione watched as Draco slowly approached her, sniffing. His head tilted, following wafts of air as they traversed the space between them. Was it her scent that enthralled him so? He turned back to her and she was struck by the intensity in his grey-sliver eyes, hungry and lustful. Hermione clutched her sheet more tightly to her body. A slight movement drew her gaze to his mouth. He was flicking the tip of his fang with his tongue, and watching her. She was in trouble.

The Order of Serpents by bl_crtz - E, 43 chapters, Words: 190,103 - During the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry Potter walked into the forbidden forest, died, and walked out with crimson eyes as the new vessel of the Dark Lord. Since then, Hermione Granger served as an elite member of the True Order, isolating herself from other Order members and going on missions alone, not only haunted by the loss of her best friend, Harry, but Ron who had run away after the battle. Three and a half years later, Draco Malfoy shows up with his two year old son on the Order’s doorstep seeking to switch sides. Together, Draco and Hermione are forced to deal with not only each other, but their own past and confront who they’ve become because of the war.

The Gloriana Set by ThebeMoon - M, 81 chapters, Words: 271,830 - The War is won, and Hermione Granger is back at Hogwarts as an “Eighth Year”, feeling reckless and determined to shed her prim bookworm persona. She will do as she pleases, and anyone who doesn’t like it will see the business end of her wand. Also returning is Draco Malfoy, universally hated but determined to restore his family’s name. Hermione’s hopes for a quiet school year are quickly dashed as she contends with mischievous First Years, killer plants, enchanted hair accessories, a totally inappropriate Moaning Myrtle, renegade Death Eaters, a nice vampire, a poorly named study group, a depraved party, and mysterious, threatening blood messages on the castle walls. We have redemption, partial redemption and (sadly or hilariously) no redemption at all. Throw in a snarky, disturbingly attractive Draco with his own secret agenda, and we have a very slow-burn Dramione with a side of who-dun-it. COMPLETE!

Carpathian by niffizzle - M, WIP - The sprawling mountains of the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary offered a perfect chance for renewed self-discovery. Lush landscapes. Majestic beasts. It was intended to be Hermione’s escape. Except, she hadn’t been alone in that plan. Four years had passed since she last saw him, and to her knowledge, no one else in Britain had either. Rumours had sprouted like plants under a Herbivicus Charm after he failed to return for the second half of their final year at Hogwarts. Even Hermione hadn’t been able to resist the question in nearly every student’s mind: Where had Draco Malfoy gone? Apparently, she now had the answer.

The Potioneers By: omnenomnom - T, 53 chapters, Words: 207,325 - They need each other unfortunately. Hermione has tricked Draco under her tutelage, arrogant attitude and all. But she would be simple to think he would accept it quietly. They have both have secrets to hide, old wounds better left to fester, and a world full of mermaids, dragons, and magic to explore. (In Character and No Bashing)

-Lisa

[nimata-beroya]

(ID in alt text)

It's time for bringing back my first Kalluzeb fic ever ☺️ The series is not near finish but I'm working on it slowly. Someday they'll get to Lira San.

RECRUITMENT

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Star Wars: Rebels

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: None

Words: 3556

Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios

Characters: Alexsandr Kallus, Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios, Jun Sato

Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Scenes between episodes and post series finale, Canon-Typical Violence, Author's knowledge of canon is seriously lacking so beware, Missing Scene, canon compatible

Series: Part 1 of Road to Lira San

Summary: Commander Sato orders Captain Orrelios to meet a new informant.

More fics: here and here

Garazeb walks into the command center of the Chopper base in Atollon, and finds Commander Sato alone, waiting for him.

"D'ye wanna see me, Sir?"

"Yes. I have a solo mission for you, Captain Orrelios."

Zeb looks at Sato with wide eyes, unable to hide his reaction to the unexpected news. Since joining the Phoenix Squadron, he goes on missions along with the Ghost crew, or at least, is partnered with some of the Spectres; seldom, not to say never, alone. "What mission, Commander?"

"A defector from the Empire has contacted us, claiming to have valuable information, but he's willing to deliver it only in your hands."

"Why me? Who's this person?"

"I was hoping that you could shed some light on the identity of the defector. Maybe you know this individual."

"I don't know any Imps," Zeb says. Except for Agent Kallus, Zeb's mind points out. Nah, it can't be 'im. Or can he?

"From what I could tell, and by the way he expressed himself, it's a high-ranked officer, but I could figure out nothing else."

Again, Zeb's thoughts wander to the ISB agent, who maybe heeded his suggestion to look for the truth of the Empire's tyranny. There's a chance that what Zeb said to Kallus had a lasting impression on the man, enough to make his allegiance to wave in favor of the rebellion. Zeb almost wishes it so, but he'd rather not get his hopes up. Besides, mentioning the Imperial agent now would force Zeb to confess to Sato what actually happened on the Geonosian frozen moon. To be honest, the idea holds no appeal to him. He hasn't told anyone about that night, not even his Ghost family. "Dunno whatta tell ya, Commander. I've no idea who could be," he says, scratching the back of the head with his claws.

"Even so, the mission stands. Your job is to go to the given coordinates to retrieve the intel, and extract the individual if he wishes so."

Zeb is willing to do this job, but he has doubts about being the right person for it. He's not a spy, but give him bucketheads to bash and he could do it all day long. Not to mention that almost-extinct, purple-furred Lasats tend to stand out in any crowd. Stealth is hardly his strongest suit. He says as much to the Commander.

"It has to be you, Orrelios. The contact was adamant in the terms for the in-person delivery, negotiations via holo won't do, and we cannot lose this opportunity. I've seen what you and the rest of Captain Syndulla's crew are capable of, even when circumstances put you out of the comfort zone. I have full confidence in your ability to carry out this mission without a hitch."

Keep reading

[angstysebfan]

The Past Can Break You - 9

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

AU: Avengers

Summary: You and Bucky have been dating for aa few years. As far as you’re concerned he is the one. But what happens when a blast from the actual past shows up?

A/N: Ive seen a lot stories of Bucky getting his first love from the 40′s back. And I’ve always wondered... what would happen if he was dating someone already? Reader is from this time. Not proofread.

Warning: cursing

--

Third Person POV

The party is in full swing at the compound. Tony took out all the stops. Claimed it was to celebrate Natasha’s birthday, though her birthday wasn’t for another month. Most people didn’t mind since they loved to dress up and get shit-faced. 

Dot held onto Bucky’s hand as he walked around the large room. She was both nervous and excited for this party. She hoped that this was only the beginning for her and Bucky. She also hoped that this would finally get Bucky to make a move other than hugs and hand holding. 

She couldn’t understand why he was dragging his feet. You have been gone for a month and Bucky seems to have gotten over it, at least she thinks he has, but he still won’t even kiss her. What happened to this man that he lost his charm from the 40′s? It was driving her crazy, especially since she put in so much work to finally get him. She decided that tonight, she doesn’t care if she has to drug him, he will be hers.

The couple walks up to Steve, Tony, Sam, and Nat, who are all in conversation. “Hey guys, you remember Dot,” Bucky says to the group.

They all nod and give her a small smile, except Natasha. Dot was honestly terrified of the woman. First of all she was gorgeous, which annoyed Dot because she was used to being the most beautiful. But what scared her the most is when Bucky told her she was a previous spy. She has killed people, and she was really good at reading people. Dot couldn’t help but wonder if Nat had caught on to what she did to you.

“Jamie, can you come dance with me?” Dot asked. 

Bucky looked at her and saw her giving puppy dog eyes. He had to fight everything in him to not roll his own eyes. He cleared his throat, “Uh, sure Doll. Steve, Nat, why don’t you join us?” Bucky asked with pleading eyes.

Nat did roll hers but grabbed Steve’s hand and walked out to the floor. The music changed to a slow ballad and Dot wrapped her arms around Bucky’s neck. “I saw a video that people dance like this now. Especially when they are dating,” she says.

Bucky furrows his brows, “Uh, I haven’t asked you out yet,” he said.

He heard Nat clear her throat and stuttered, “Though I will soon, Doll. I just needed some time.”

Dot scoffed, “Come on Bucky. It’s been like a month, I think it’s time for you to move on. She is gone, and honestly good riddance. She wasn’t very good for you, ya know. She was way too jealous and couldn’t handle that your past with me. It was honestly pathetic,” she said.

Bucky tensed at Dot’s words, ready to ream into her when there was a loud explosion the caused everyone on the dance floor to fall to the ground. Bucky sat up when the dust settled and looked around. He saw several soldiers standing, armed. In front of them were 2 people, John Walker and... you armed with guns and 2 swords attached to your back (your specialty).

You look around the room filled with frightened people and scoff, “What’s the matter? Never saw anyone crash a party before?” you shout to the crowd.

Natasha stepped up, “Y/N, what are you doing? Why are you with Walker?” she asked.

You looked at Nat with a smirk, “Well, after the man I loved cheated on me with his blast from the past, I decided that there might have been a reason. I looked back on my life and found that no good deed truly goes unpunished. So fuck good deeds!” you shout.

You look at Bucky you is staring at you in disbelief, “Hello Buck. I would ask if you missed me, but I saw you dancing with your slut and figured, nah,” you sneered.

“Y/N, please. Let’s talk this through. Whatever you thought happened did-”

“Do you honestly think I will believe a fucking word you say Barnes? I’ll answer that, nope! But don’t worry. I have a new man now. One that appreciates me completely and doesn’t screw around with ex’s. You’ve met John, right?” you ask pointing to John behind you.

John walks up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, kissing your neck. Bucky tenses, wanting to pull John away from you. You however ignore your him and look around the room until you see her. Cowering on the floor. You walk slowly over and squat in front of her, enjoying her shaking in front of you, “Hello Dolores,” you say.

Before she can respond to get away, you grab her by the hair and pull her out in front of everyone. 

“Oh Dot, isn’t this what you wanted? Everyone to know who you are and who fuck? That’s right people, this woman here,” you say pointing to Dot, “fucked this man here, while he was dating me,” you said laughing.

“I-I...I didn’t. I swear... I didn’t” Dot said shaking.

You glared at her, “Oh Dotty, come on, Doll. We both know what I heard,” you said.

Natasha stepped up again, “Y/N, what the hell are you doing! We had a plan! Why are you doing this?” she yelled frustrated.

You looked from her to Bucky, who looked distraught.

“Eh, I didn’t want to wait for your plan. So I came up with my own plan. Which reminds me, Johnny... where is that book?” you ask sweetly to John.

John gulps and walks up to you to hand you a book. You show the team who’s eyes widen. You look directly at Bucky, “Oh baby, I was wondering if the Winter Soldier would like to play,” you say shaking the red book with the black star.

Bucky froze in fear. His heart is completely broken. You, his love, the woman he would kill for, is wanting to turn him into the monster. 

--

Chapter 8 / Chapter 10

Oh man. Things are going to get exciting! And yes in this case John Walker is just a bad guy, never tried to be Cap or anything for the sake of this story, but everyone still hates him. Feedback is appreciated.

Permanent Taglist:  @hailmary-yramliah @tuiccim @comedictragedy @cap-n-stuff @thefridgeismybestie @swiftmind @aleaisntcreative @lookiamtrying @pinknerdpanda @morganclaire4 @iamvalentinaconstanza @verygraphicink @im-squished @joannie95 @peace-love-hobbitness @connie326 @amandamdiehl @harrysthiccthighss @its-izzys @roserose26 @rebekahdawkins @elegantobservationstudentsblog @broco8 @shinykoalacat @white-wolf1940 @jessyballet

Story Taglist: @afuckingshituniverse @wintrfld @cherries-and-berries @ilovemarvelanne1 @lilli2411 @minty-fiction @peakywitch @blue-mostacho @r0bbieshapiro @uncreativezx @sarahjoestewy-blog @geekanista @imtaashu @vicmc624 @browneyedgirl365 @happinessinthebeing @leyannrae @austynparksandpizza @aliloz-3 @starkleila @440mxs-wife @miniaturestudentspyhound @inhumanwithpowers 

PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I FORGOT YOU

[mothervvoid]

For the writing ask, 10, 22, 43, and 99! 🧡

for this meme

thanks for the sneak peak at the new bit you wrote for abandon, btw, i loved it! i've said this already so many times before but the way you write obito's dialogue... :chef's kiss: it's just amazing dude.

at what point in the process do you come up with titles, and how easy or hard is that for you?

because of just the sheer amount of failed projects i've had in the past (mostly bcos i started writing fic when i was in middle school and thus very bad at planning) i still associate naming things before they're finished to be bad luck. because of this, most of my fics are named right as i'm about to post! notable exceptions to this include Dogteeth, call me what you like and do it again; and do it again is actually a title i stole from a project i ended up abandoning!! (the concepts are similar tho).

it's kinda hard for me to come up with titles for fics im writing at present bcos i REFUSE to name most of them until they're finished. so then i'll just sit at the post box and glare at it bcos now i have a finished fic and no name. i've got a list in my notes app full of potential titles i think up for this very reason but sometimes none of them fit. and then there's times where i come up with the perfect title! once in a blue moon occurrence though.

describe your writing process from scratch to finish.

okay so, the process:

step one: come up with scenario. typically smth i want to see that i haven't seen yet. or it is something i've already seen i just want to do it myself.

step two: daydream about it. come up with a few vague scenes. i often imagine my fics as movie trailers funnily enough.

step three: keep daydreaming. there's a lot of daydreaming involved in my process unfortunately, about 70% of it is daydreaming and then translating that daydream onto paper. i think in both pictures and words so this is, thankfully, usually easy for me. during step three we've moved past vague scenes and have started fleshing out the meat of the really important scenes and have started on the connective tissue between, like motivations and how everyone got there to begin with.

step four: actually writing. typically this happens after a period of procrastination where i start writing it in my head, and then i write and rewrite it over and over again until i like it. (< this is the part of the process where my unfinished projects will usually die because i will start writing and then become daunted by the enormity of the story i've dreamt up. longfics scare me! there's a reason why even my chaptered fics are short. this is something i'm slowly outgrowing.)

and that's it!

how did writing change you?

it's given me a lot of questionable knowledge on subjects i am not majoring in.

but if i'm being honest? i think writing has helped me through some pretty dark times in my life. the pandemic ruined my mental health, and there's a fic i wrote from 2019 (it's batman & rhato related) where that really shows. i figured out i could express myself through writing and i just kinda ran with it lmao.

i also think it's made me better at expressing myself period tbh.

was being a writer a dream of yours when you were little? or did it spring up when your older? or is it just a hobby? 

i didn't really think about being a writer when i was a kid, i was very much your stereotypical child, i wanted to be a movie star or a singer. then i got older and it sort of sprung up on me--i see this as more of a hobby than a career though. i've toyed with the idea of writing something and trying to get it published, but i'm a little soured on the idea because so many members of my family keep pushing me to monetize something that's been a beloved hobby of mine for years, something i really don't want to turn into work, yk?

[akirameta84]

i need to write more often and i WANT to, just because i like writing and not only because i update so horrifically slowly, but just. cant. i also dont want to

i have the entire next chaptets for all of my longfics partially planned, with the key/funniest moments being all my brain wants to focus on which makes writing everything else. tricky

so im gonna see if sharing a brief tidbit about each upcoming chapter will help partially because its out and shared and so i can work on getting everything else out and shared

under the cut cause unless you read my fics theres no point in a teaser about the next chapter lmfao

mild spoiler warning actually because this is just the very basic plot of the next chapter of all of my longfics so if you reasonably dont want to know the rundown ahead of time avoid this. things are subject to change, be removed, or be added to, and this is certainly not all of the chapters, there will be more details and moments and scenes aside from the main plotline but still, a fair warning.

Lorum Ipsum: the snake scene from canon changed for this au. saiki never goes to the bathroom and is the one who directly intervenes, jumping in front of kaidou after kaidou jumped in front of that girl. not because he gives a shit about kaidou, though. he sneaks the snake corpse into his bag and eats it at lunch. my brain has yet to determine if someone witnesses that or not

Kaidou’s Guide to Making Friends: akechi's encounters are getting to kaidou even more so, and reita is finally introduced. almost all the dragon cast will be present in the story at last, all except for one last member (and hii. but she was technically introduced already)

Show Me the World Outside: casino robbery happens. kusuo gets his spine broken and demonstrates his healing (panacea (a character from worm) style but very slow and very easy to mess up) after being out of commission for the second half of the fight

^ this might actually end up being TWO chapters away, have yet to see if the pre-robbery scenes take up a whole chapter or not

Beloathed Fate: the dragonets are captured and some skywing guards learn about rainwing venom with some very direct teaching methods. one of the skywing guards in their new prison is oddly fascinated with kusuo

[shurisneakers]

shut in [14]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: anxiety, violence, guns, death, ptsd, swearing, abuse

Word count: 6.3k

A/N: last chapter you guys :’’’’) im too emo about a fanfic i s2g. there’s an epilogue but this is the official last chapter. 

i really appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

You had only heard of the warehouse before, never actually seen it.

Its reputation preceded it. It was only mentioned in passing as a place for the worst of the worst.

It was murky and smelled like rust, concrete and rotting corpses. You had no doubt a few of them would be littering the place. A few tube lights shone over you graciously like a spotlight, barely illuminating the area. 

The room you were in was utterly silent. The only exception were noises outside the door; loud shouts and clanging of metal. You assumed it to be people in the other rooms. Your assessment on how tight the ropes were coiled around you earned a few grunts and odd squeaks, but nothing major. 

You were bound to a chair, of course, with knots you had used before on others. It felt like a convoluted form of irony. It was firmly nailed to the ground to prevent you from using it against captors. You were gagged; pretty well, by the look of it. 

A noise from beside you threw you off track. A quick look to your left and you found Sam in a similar predicament. He shook his head slightly, implying that it was useless to find an opening. At least he was alive and breathing. 

“Are you done?” A voice came from behind you, echoing within the four walls. “I really want to get going and you’re taking too long.”

You knew who it was. It was impossible for you to mistake it at this point.

“Don’t mind the noise outside. We’re just torturing a bunch of people to death.”

You roll your eyes out of sheer instinct. The footsteps slowly moved towards the front of the room, heavy and deliberate. The expensive material of his suit shone under the light as he edged in front of you. Only he’d wear Armani to a murder.

The dramatic fuck clearly rehearsed it.

“Hey Buttercup,” Ransone smiled, distinctly proud of himself. Your bite on the bundle of cloth haphazardly shoved in your mouth tightened. “Been waitin’ on you for a while now. Wilson’s no good company.”

You sneak a glance at Sam’s side profile and he looks relatively untouched. There were a few cuts on his face that you could make out under the harsh light but that was it. 

“You can’t get out of those, if you're wondering.” He gestured to your current set up. “I told you, Sam. I save my warehouse for special guests. All your fun tools are gone. Took ‘em when you were brought in.”

As your eyes adjusted to the lighting, you faintly make out the presence of two men in the corners of the room, stiff as cardboard. His security. 

“Oh! Except this.” He brandished the paper airplane you had brought with you in the utility belt. He’d use anything to potentially get a rise out of you.

“Gettin’ sentimental now, are we?” He tested the tip of the plane with his finger. 

You prayed he wouldn’t destroy it. It had more value than he was willing to bet on. 

“You must be asking yourselves why you ended up here,” Ransone mused, looking at the plane from all angles. “No need to worry, I’ll tell you.”

You didn't expect anything less from him. Everything about this felt cinematic; the inconvenient lighting, the men standing in the corner. This man oozed drama over efficiency. 

“When I was just starting out, people warned me. Told me I wasn’t going to get anywhere, that we’d always stay in the same position because that’s how it’s been for all these years.” He tested the plane, holding onto the body sturdily.  

“There were too many big names already. We were one of them, of course. My father did a good job of giving us a solid foundation.” He pulled his wrist back like he was going to launch it, only to never actually do it. He carried it through the air, simulating its flight pattern.

“You remember my father, don’t you? The guy who cut off someone’s finger because they didn’t finish the job.” Ransone really only had one story to tell about his father and he worked it to death. Other than a few handful of times, his father never bothered about his presence much from what you heard. He favoured the ones who were brutal and Ransone- well, he was a glorified theatre kid. 

“Of course you do. He was an incredible man.” He laughed crisply. “But he had no real ambition. No drive. I told him we could have been at the top, the ones parents warn their kids about. He didn’t listen to me. He never really paid attention.”

His tone got wistful in the end, eyes distant like he was living the scene out in his head. 

“So obviously when he died, I had the chance to really make a difference. Really set us apart. Ten Rings and Hydra had their own niche; they had some ties with the military and the government and whatnot. Crazy motherfuckers, all of them.” He shook his dead in distaste. “But Serpentine- that was closer to home. Same market as us.”

You wondered how long he would take to get to the point. The only distraction you had were the noises that continued outside. An odd gunshot here and there really pulled your attention away from the story.

“Serpentine with their stupid code names. They really thought they were all that.” He sounded embarrassingly like a bitchy teenager. “Who do they think they were fooling with the Norse Gods thing, huh? Naming your leader Odin, his wife Frigga.”

“I fucking hated them,” he spat, face twisting into anger. “Told them to watch out, that I’d end their legacy. They laughed in my face.” 

He spun around, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he pointed to Sam, “That’s where you come in.”

Sam looked thoroughly irritated with the show that was going on in front of him. If he wasn’t gagged you had no doubt he’d have a few comments to pass. Ones that would get the both of you killed. 

“I told you to kill their leader. One job. You fucked that up.” Sam recalling the story of his first mission flashed in your memory. “Let that old nutjob into your head and allowed him to escape. We didn’t know where he was for years.”

“I let it go because I thought Serpentine was done for. Radio silence after Odin disappeared. And they were, until a few years ago when I get news that they have a new leader. Odin’s son, the new heir.” He waved around his hands, mocking the last part of his sentence. “Word on the street was that he wanted to kill whoever murdered his mother in front of his eyes.”

“I thought that was hilarious. You know why?” He laughed humourlessly. “Because that was you. You were the one who killed his mother. You remember that? Your big mission?”

“You killed my mom,” he jeered, unmoving.

“I’m sorry. I had to.” Your voice was quiet. Your hand clutched at the hood of the car to keep your balance. “But I don’t want to hurt you. Go.”

“He wasn’t supposed to be there. No one had even heard of him. His brother’s too soft to take on anything like this. He’s some farmer in England now. But he was supposed to be Odin’s only son. Yet somehow, the only person who could have known this other son existed and actually seen him… was you.”

“Turns out he’s like you. A secret adoption. No record of him anywhere.” You didn’t blink, not once taking your eyes off him in case he decided to go wild. “He should have died that day. You were supposed to kill them.”

Only Ransone would justify killing a kid because it fit his agenda. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done it before, and though he tried very hard to shove his ideology onto you, you never complied.

“Goes by Loki now, another stupid codename. Trained by his father who this idiot let go of.” He gestured to Sam callously, “and mad about the murder of his mother that you committed. Serpentine came back pretty quickly after he took control.”

A particularly loud sound of metal slamming would have made you jump had you not been tied down. Ransone swung around in anger, loudly cursing at them for ruining his train of thought. He muttered some more curses under his breath before plastering a fake smile on his face and continuing.

“I’ll admit, he’s a sneaky one. But they grew faster than any other cartel. They somehow knew all our connections, all our targets, our key players. It wasn’t possible,” he shook his head low as he paced up and down slowly. You knew where this was headed. “Unless we had someone giving them information from the inside.”

He stops to look at you.

“I would have forgiven you, Y/N, I really would. You know how I am about second chances.” He looked at you, eyebrows upturned with regretful eyes. “But then you had to go and spy on me for two years.”

You could see Sam turn to you from the corner of your eye, assessing your reaction. You didn't extend the same courtesy to him. You didn’t have any reaction.

“We found out very late, of course. I taught you well,” he chided, his inescapable  narcissism making an appearance once more. “But then we had to figure out why. Why you’d betray me and everything I’ve done for you.”

“I still can’t figure that out.” You wanted to scream at him, everything he had taken away from you, everything he forced you to be. “I treated you the best out of everyone I had. You had the best training, the best resources. You wouldn’t have made it anywhere if I didn’t drag you out of that shithole orphanage.”

You had heard of blissfully ignorant, but he was well beyond that at this point. 

“Didn’t take too long to connect the dots. What, with Wilson’s great act of charity and your lack of better judgement, both of you managed to fuck up enough to screw me over years later.”

“I initially was only going to have you killed, Buttercup,” he admitted nonchalantly, like your life had no value. “But then we found out that Sam’s been lying to me for a long time too. Been hidin’ his friend a few states away.”

“It was meant to be,” he cooed. “Such a similar past. You could have met each other before, you know? Pierce wouldn’t be the first time you were at the same house on the same day.”

You couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like if you had known Sam earlier. Would you have been friends or would you have been forced to kill each other in his sick ‘survival of the fittest’ game?

“It felt poetic to have you both die together, you know? On a mission gone wrong. A full circle.” God, he spent too long planning something elaborate when he could have just put a bullet in your head and ended you the day he found out. Fucking weirdo.

“Made sure I sent you to the same place at the same time. Pierce was dead long before you came, the poor fuck. But then again, collateral damage. No mercy.” He shrugged. “Had everyone at the ready. You should have died that night.”

“But like everything you do,” his voice suddenly rose like a child throwing a tantrum, “you fucked that up for me too. Escaped with his stupid fucking car.”

“None of those useless agents could find you. How could they?” The beauty was that Ransone must have spent too long looking when you were basically right there, just miles away. “You didn’t go to one of our locations and Serpentine hides their safehouses well.”

You still remembered the relief when the door accepted your fingerprint. 

 It was a long shot but you didn't have anywhere else to go. You weren’t even sure that this house existed.

Another loud crash arrived from the outside with noises that sounded like more gunshots, making Ransone jump this time. Just how many people were being tortured here?

“Keep the volume down, you stupid fucking imbeciles!” he screeched, pounding at the metal door. The decibel reduced, but still continued on.  

He dragged his palm across his face in exasperation, talking under his breath to himself. He shook his head before turning back to you.

"Oh, by the way, don't think about escaping. Got every last one of my best agents out here after that stunt you pulled at Pierce’s house,” he says offhandedly.

He takes a second to regroup, get back into character.

“So we released your pictures to the public. Can’t go very far if people are looking for you constantly. It was the only way we could get you to stay in one place.” Ransone raised his shoulders casually. “We had every lowlife out there waiting for one of you to show up.”

“We eventually had someone report Wilson in a town a while away from Pierce. I was making my way there but then you sent me your location on your own. Had men outside your house that night.” He paused, peering at the plane in his hand.

He finally let it go, watching as it barely went any distance before nose diving to the ground. Your eyes trailed after it, hoping he wouldn’t crush it with his foot.

“This is the worst fucking paper plane I’ve ever seen. The balance is completely off.” He stared at it in wonder, picking it up again and shoving it back into his pocket. You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. “Anyway one of them heard you talkin’ about how you’re leaving the next day so we just got ready at the door.”

“Et voila.” He grinned, spreading his arms. “Here we are. Brilliant, wasn’t it?”

Unnecessarily long, but you weren’t going to complain. 

“Oh, I forgot you can’t talk.” His mouth quirked downwards into a ‘whoops’. 

He took a long pause right in front of you before his hand reached out to cradle your face. “I wouldn’t let those idiots kill you, Buttercup. You deserved better than that.”

He stared unnervingly into your eyes, looking for a hint of anything, any sort of remorse. He wasn’t going to find any. You wished he saw nothing but hatred. 

“It’s why I had to kill you myself.” He sighed when you pulled your face away the best you could from his palm in disgust. “But I’ll do you a solid. I’ll give you a chance to beg for forgiveness. Maybe if you’re good enough I’ll let you go.”

You knew he was lying. He had no intention of doing that. He only wanted you to grovel in submission, plead for your life for a fucking power trip.

He ripped off the tape that was over your mouth, making you flinch at the burn. He pulled out the cloth faster than you could spit it out at him.

“Go ahead,” Ransone said smugly. His ego would outlive all of you. 

“Him first.” Your mouth was dry and your lips felt chapped. You had clearly been knocked out for a while by then. You had no idea how far away you were from the original location.

“What?” His smile dropped to a frown rather quickly.

“Him first.” You mentioned towards Sam with your head. 

“That’s cute.” He laughed, stopping when you didn’t join in. “Oh, you’re serious.”

“I’m not saying shit till he does too.” You were bemused, monotonous. You just wanted to get this over as quickly as possible. 

“Fine,” he huffed when your expression didn’t change. “It’d be fun to watch him beg anyway.”

You hear the rip of the tape from his face, the scrunch of the material before he balled it up and threw it on the floor.

Sam shook his head furiously, forcing Ransone to take a step back swiftly before he hit him. 

“Right.” Ransone clapped his hands together. “Let’s get star-”

He was interjected by another loud bang followed by a series of gunshots. Another victim massacred. He groaned in frustration, stamping his feet at the constant interruption. The universe was determined to not let him finish his monologue in peace, and for that, you thanked her.

You looked at Sam, nodding slightly. He gave you a small smile in return, calming the nerves you were beginning to feel.

“Where were we?” Ransone did not look happy; a vein was dangerously visible on his forehead. Now would not be the best time to do anything that angered him. “Yes, go ahead. Beg.”

“Ransone,” Sam began, exhaling lightly. “We knew.”

The smile on Ransone’s face faltered. “What did you say?”

“He said we knew,” you cut in. “You melodramatic fuck.”

Ransone’s grin faded abruptly and it was by far the most satisfying experience you had ever experienced.

“Yeah, we figured it out ourselves a while ago.” Sam had the slightest smirk on his face. “Y/N did, actually.”

“Fuck,” you cursed.

You could feel his muscle shift as he looked at you. 

“What’s wrong?” 

You opened your mouth but shut it again. How do you explain it to him without sounding utterly ridiculous?

“I need to tell you something and I need you to hear me out before saying anything,” you pulled away from him, shuddering at the sudden cold that enveloped you. 

“I’m listening.”

“I think it’s Ransone. He’s been trying to kill us.”

“Why?” He didn’t sound judgemental, hardly even fazed, like it was a completely plausible suggestion. You couldn’t express how glad you were.

“The guy you didn't kill, if he’s the old head of Serpentine, then... I know his son.” Your mouth was dry as your mind raced to piece it together. “He’s the one I didn’t kill.”

“What?” Sam’s eyebrows furrowed, and you could see him trying to figure out the connection. “How are you so sure?”

You closed your eyes, letting out a deep exhale. “I’m going to need you to not react to what I’m going to tell you.”

“Okay...” he trailed off. 

“I’ve been working with him for two years. Passing information on to him about Ransone.”

“Wait so that means-”

“I’m the spy. And I think Ransone figured it out. He wants to kill me.”

“You knew,” Ransone stated. He looked like he was in a daze.

Sam looked at you once before nodding. “If you would shut up and let someone else talk for once, we would have told you a while ago.”

“It helped that you confirmed details about Pierce’s death without us having to tell you.” The last conversation you had with him replayed in your head verbatim. “There’s no way you would have known he was dead before we got there unless we told you. Or you did it.” 

“We knew you had agents outside the house. Kinda expected that when we gave you the address,” you shrugged the best you could, “Sam’s security cameras got all of them.”

“Made sure that one fuck behind the tree could hear us planning outside,” Sam added. “He wasn’t very stealthy, by the way.”

“Have you decided on a day?”

You nod, looking straight ahead into the darkness. “Tomorrow.”

“You sure? Our timing has to be right.”

“Yeah.” Your voice is coarse. “I’ll have to tell him.”

He nodded, leaning his elbows on his knees. He was too tall for the stairs, almost like he was crouching instead of sitting.

His voice dropped to a whisper like it’s a secret only meant for you.

“You knew you were going to be ambushed.”

“No shit.” You nodded. 

The loud bangs continued outside the door but you paid no heed to it. The closer it got, the more your stomach jumped, hoping that more people you pissed off didn’t storm in. You had quite a list anyway.

“You knew they were coming,” Ransone appeared like he had gears turning in his own head, trying to add everything up on his own. “Then why didn’t you run?”

“Well, we kinda needed all of you in one place.” 

“Huh?” He blinked, not listening to all the commotion that was going on around him. If he didn’t, he was choosing to focus on this instead.

“We had to take out all of you at once,” you disclosed, fidgeting with the rope to see if it would give. “Kinda knew you were waiting to kill us yourself when we gave you the location and nothing happened immediately. You’re too much of a sissy to kill us without backup so we wanted you in one place with the rest of them.”

You tilted your head towards the two men standing in the corner.

“You knew all this while and lied,” Ransone jeered, face twisting into something rather indiscernible; a nice mix of shame and rage.

“Not like we had another choice, man.” You just knew Sam was rolling his eyes. “You think I would voluntarily listen to you monologue like an idiot?”

“You did gag us,” you added, trying to buy as much time as you could. “That’s on you.” 

The ropes were still tight as could be and the chair wouldn’t budge. Even your feet were too tightly tied together to do anything. It was what you expected, but that wasn’t going to stop you.

“Shut up!” Ranone’s face was hideously red.

“You rehearsed it, didn’t you?” Sam called out, taunt in his tone. “With the lighting and shit.”

“He doesn’t have to. He does one a week to some poor fuck who has to listen.” 

You couldn’t believe the both of you were teaming up to bully a man who literally held the fate of your lives in his hands. It was something you never imagined yourself doing.

“How do people take you seriously?” Sam laughed. More than yours, his remarks seemed to be ticking Ransone off. 

Ransone let out a guttural cry, knuckles so white you were afraid they were going to break. He whips around, stomping over to pull the gun from the hand of one of his bodyguards.

“Easy there, DeNiro, that’s not a stage prop.” Sam chided.

The concrete in front of him suddenly cracks loudly. He looked up, slightly taken aback. 

“Next time it’ll be your fucking face,” Ransone snarled, waving the gun around like a maniac. You send a cautionary glance to Sam, telling him to back off. Ransone was volatile. He would act without thinking. 

“Why did you kill everyone I was friends with, Vincent?” you asked slowly, trying to divert his mind. 

He turned to you, a crazed look in his eyes.

“Why did you take everyone from me?” The more you asked, the more it became about genuine curiosity rather than a distraction from shooting Sam in the head.

“Take everyone from- none of them were going to last anyway!” He throws his hands up in the air angrily. “I was saving you from yourself. From the eventual pain.”

His face was desperate, and you for a second forced yourself to think from his perspective. He looked like he truly believed in what he was saying, like he genuinely thought he was supporting you. Like he cared. The thought that maybe he truly wanted to help you was the only way you could comfort yourself for so many years. 

“If you were in pain, you wouldn’t perform. I was only pushing you to your full potential,” he continued, a wild smile on his face mixed with eyes rimmed red like he was ready to cry. 

Your stomach sank, even though you hated it. It wasn’t about you, it was about what he could get from you. 

There was silence. Even the noises outside seemed to have stopped, all waiting for your next move.

“You’re a sick, conniving fuck,” your words waver, and you hope it hits him as hard as it can, “And I can’t wait till you’re dead.”

His face morphed from one of helplessness to slow fury once more. Manipulative prick.

“Do I have to remind you that you’re the one tied up?” He wipes at his nose, voice returning to normal. “The only reason you’re alive right now is because I need to know why you let yourself be captured so willingly.”

Your incessant need to know everything stemmed from him and the paranoia he induced in you from when you were a kid. Everything you thought was wrong about you came from him.

“We told you, you overdramatic fuck.” Sam drew the attention away from you thankfully. You took a deep breath, stabilizing yourself. 

“What, that you needed the team in one place to take us out?” Ransone asked, to no one’s answer. “You and what army?”

“Well, the one who’s been here for a while now,” you pipe up.

No one says anything. Pin drop silence reigns free. 

“You said he’d be here,” Sam hissed at you. “How much longer do we keep this going?”

“He said he would,” you argued back, feeling the heat creep into your cheeks.

“What the fuck are you both talking about?” Ransone asked, but you continued to ignore him.

“What are we going to do if he-”

The door violently exploded off its hinges, sending debris flying everywhere. You clenched your eyes shut and ducked your head to avoid getting smacked in the face with rubble

The dust hadn’t even cleared before multiple rounds were fired. You flinched when your ringing ears hurt more at the sound of gunshots. 

You struggle against your ropes, trying to get to Sam. They only get tighter until suddenly your arms break free. Your neck and legs soon follow as you shrug off the ropes that were cleanly sliced off.

Your ears were still getting used to the chaos when you notice someone humming behind you. It took a second to register that it was a fucking Britney Spears song. 

“What took you so long?” You coughed, waving the air in front of you to clear it as you stumbled towards Sam.

“I wanted to make an entrance,” Loki said dismissively, following you. “I think I may have overshot it by a few seconds.”

You fell to your knees in front of Sam, quickly moving to untie the familiar knots. He lifted his head to look at you, a thin layer of dust covering his face.

“Are you okay?” you asked in concern, simultaneously untying as fast as you could. It was one you had used many times before; a complicated knot that guaranteed you wouldn’t have been able to make it out of the bondage.

“I think my leg’s asleep but other than that I’m good.” 

You give him a small smile, thankful that he wasn’t hurt enough to lose his dry sense of humour. Your hand involuntarily reached up to brush some dust off his cheekbone. The intensity with which he looked at you had you swallowing thickly.

You snapped out of it quickly, working on freeing his legs as Loki took a step behind his chair to cut the rest of him loose.

“This him?” Sam mentioned to Loki, massaging his wrist to return some feeling into it. 

“You can just ask me, you know,” Loki commented, but clearly not taking any offence. 

“I’m sorry about your family, man.” 

You didn’t expect Sam to say that, and from the looks of it, neither did Loki. He stopped for a moment, before continuing to cut the last rope.

“You let my father go,” he said, sawing the last part off, “and although I personally think you should have killed the miserable old bastard, he made it clear that he owed you one.”

The both of you stood up. You glanced around the room, noting how both of Ransone’s bodyguards were on the floor, bullet holes riddling their body. 

He himself was beside them, lying facefront on the ground. Armani suit be damned.

“How many more are outside?” Sam asked, tearing your attention away from the bodies on the floor.

“All taken care of.” Loki put the knife back into its sheath on his thigh. “We made quite a commotion. I’m surprised he didn’t do anything.”

“He’s a little dense,” Sam remarked. Most of the noises you heard earlier weren’t just other victims being tortured, although you knew that it was still a large fraction of it.

“Should we go?” you asked, doing a quick sweep of the room. You found nothing moving among the pile of rubble.

“Unless you got anything else left to do.” Loki gestured to the large hole in the wall where the door was.

“I think we’re done.”

He simply nodded, spinning on his heel to walk out the room when someone yelled from behind you. 

You all halted what you were doing, slowly turning to look at where the noise was coming from.

“Don’t take another step,” Ransone warned, a gun pointed straight at you, barely able to stand straight. He looked worse than you’d ever seen him. His suit was torn and he had a few streaks of blood down his face. His hair was tousled and unkempt, rougher than it had ever been before. “Or I swear I’ll-”

“Oh, shut up,” Loki interjected, firing a shot into Ransone’s stomach before anyone could even react. He returned the gun to its holster that you didn’t even notice was there on his waist. “He talks too much.”

Ransone staggered back until he hit the wall, knees buckling beneath his weight as he slid to the ground. The gun he pried off his bodyguards lay where he was standing previously. 

You ignored Sam’s uneasy questions as you took a step forward. 

You picked the gun up, cautiously making your way to Ransone. You crouched next to his body. He looked at you before looking down. You followed his line of sight, watching as he lifted his hands. They were covered in blood. 

“How’d he know where to find you?” Ransone’s voice was more subdued than you’d ever heard him.

You reached over, slipping your fingers into his jacket pocket and pulled out the paper airplane that was flattened due to the impact.

“Hey, you can put a message in it. Maybe one of those button trackers, a microphone. The possibilities are endless.” He laughed, folding another one out of the limited supply of paper he had left.

You unfolded it, letting a small object, not bigger than a button, fall into your palm. He stared at it before realisation dawned on him. 

“I knew you’d take all my weapons, but you wouldn’t get rid of this,” you disclosed, folding the paper plane back to what it was and gently putting it into your pocket. It was still salvageable. “Not if you could use it to hurt me.” 

You watched him take a shaky breath, flinching when more blood rushed out of him. 

“You can still help me, Y/N. We can get out of here together,” he rasped. “Think about everything we’ve been through. We can work it out. I love you.”

You involuntarily let out a strangled cry at the last part. It was nothing but a last ditch attempt to persuade you, pull you back in.

“Look- look at me. Buttercup,” he croaked when you wouldn’t oblige. “I love you. I’m your home.” 

You finally look at him. Look right into his eyes, red rimmed and fading. You look for it, the adoration he spoke of. The care he promised. Anything to make sense of why he would tear you apart time and time again. The love he had for you.

You find nothing. Gray eyes look back at you blankly, desperately, in pain.

“You never were,” you whisper, standing up abruptly. 

You raised your arm, pointing the gun at him. He sputtered out more half baked apologies, unaware of anything that was coming out of his own mouth.

You clench your eyes shut, pulling the trigger. He lets out a cry when the bullet lodges in his shoulder. 

You take a step back, letting the scene imprint itself in your brain of him powerless on the ground at your will. If you followed what he preached, you’d have ended his life right there. No mercy.

But you weren’t him. And you didn’t ever want to be.

“I need to do something too,” you heard Sam say. You can feel him near you, brushing against you for a moment as he gently reached for the gun you held. You gave it to him, feeling him squeeze your hand in reassurance. 

Ransone looked at Sam as he stood beside you. He fired a single shot into his leg, clearly hitting bone. You hear the same wail from before, mixed with sputtering as blood leaked from his mouth.

“That was from Riley. He says fuck you.” Sam let his hand fall again. “All yours, man.” 

“You already know what this is for,” Loki said simply. 

You chose not to look away as he shot the last round right into his forehead. Ransone’s head slumped over. Dead, glassy eyes stared beyond you. 

None of you say anything. Just stare at the lifeless body in front of you.

“It’s really over, huh?” Sam’s voice is quiet, like he's having trouble processing what just happened.

You don’t answer. Only take a step towards him, and intertwine your fingers with his, continuing to stare at the corpse of your lifelong abuser. 

____

The sun was beating down on you. You didn’t expect it to be evening when you stepped out of the warehouse. 

“Where are we?” you asked, shielding your eyes from the sudden brightness that left you squinting.

“Middle of nowhere, I’d say.” Loki stares with disdain at the old building that looked worse for wear. “Would it kill the man to have a bit of taste?”

That reminded you. “Thanks for the house. And… sorry we showed up uninvited.”

“You didn’t do too much damage to it, I hope.”

You looked at him guiltily, mind flashing to the many bullet holes that decorated the back wall. “I’ll pay for the repairs.”

“Forget it. It’s of no use since everyone knows it exists now.” He dismissed with a wave of his hand. “So, Y/N. I guess that concludes our deal?”

“I guess it does.” You nodded,

Sam wraps his arms around your shoulder and you lean into him with a sigh, allowing the comfort his touch brought to seep into you. 

“How’d you guys make a deal anyway?” he inquired. You closed your eyes, chest rising and falling steadily.

“Well, I was going to kill you at first,” Loki explained offhandedly, gesturing to you. “But then-”

He trailed off.

You remember, clear as day, when Loki confronted you in the early hours of the morning outside the park you went on runs. He had a gun pulled on you before you could fathom what was going on, before you could even realise who he was.

“But then?” Sam prodded.

“Did he make it?”

“He did,” you divulged the information you had found out a while ago. It was a messy confrontation to say the least but you got out unscathed.

“Saw something that I recognised,” he said dryly, eyeing you up and down. “We were both pulled into something we didn’t have a say in. Stuck, you could say. I just thought that it was a win-win situation if we worked together to kill that idiot back there.” 

“So you agreed to spy on him,” Sam concluded. “You got revenge. What was your incentive?”

You look at Loki who just smiled at you. You return one half heartedly.

“I’d say freedom is a pretty big reward, wouldn’t you?” And it was. You couldn’t even begin to explain the weight that would be lifted off your shoulders. “I can’t guarantee you’ll have a perfectly normal life. Might have to change your identity, move around a bit.”

“Everyone’s looking for us as wanted criminals,” Sam voiced everything you were forgetting about in the surge of emotions rushing through you.

“I got some connections,” Loki said dismissively. You peered at him from under Sam's arm. “I can have it traced back to a dead mobster in a warehouse, no problem. If they think it’s a gang war there’s no way they’ll try to get too involved. Consider it a gift from my father.” 

Sam nodded, relaxing slightly now that most things were taken care of.

“That’s sorted then.” Loki examined the barren land that surrounded you. “You’re going to need a ride back to civilization, aren’t you?”

“If that’s possible.”

“I’ll have someone drop you off. You got any place to go? At least to stay low for a while.”

You didn’t have anyone. The only one you had was the man beside you. Nothing was settling in at the moment, and you realised that it would be a long road until it did. But you had a shot. A real shot at something even resembling recovery. 

Sam and you looked at each other before he turned back to Loki and nodded.

“New Orleans.”

Next part

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <3

here’s a list of references/foreshadowing to the end all throughout the series!

[moinsbienquekaworu]

RAM MY BELOVED hello hi happy Valentines (if you celebrate) hi

I just drove home while listening to my tomarry playlist and i need to tell you, i love themb so much and this song (Carnivore by Bear Attack! If the link doesnt work) is such a themb song and omg. I need to go reread love is touching souls. I need to finish typesetting it. I need to stop procrastinating buying printing materials and just bind it into a physical book. Themb.

But also, i was thinking about this fic thats currently sitting partially done in my google docs, thats endgame tomarry but currently drarry. And basic context: Harry becomes the DADA prof after a few years of being a failure of an auror and he and Ginny just finalized their divorce (nothing was Wrong Per Se, Ginny just realised shes a lesbian), and Hermione sets him up with Draco but theyre not really Great together theyre more just meh as a couple, but then Harry accidentally time travels back to 1945 (give ir take a few years) and teaches DADA during Tom's seventh year, and they get together and Harry knits Tom a Weasley sweater and etc etc etc BUT i couldnt figure out how to get them both back to The Present Day while not breaking up Harry and Draco BUT BUT BUT i realized i can just make it hella poly and itd still be cute!

Im telling you all of this as the person who got me into tomarry plus the first person i thought of when i put this playlist on, i hope this hinged-ness finds you well i love you <3

Love the idea of introducing someone else to the Tomarry relationship because we've all seen Tom and how he feels about sharing. Like I feel like any work with Tomarry + another character is like, 40% getting Tomarry together (all the Hurdles and Problems and such with those two) and then 60% Harry slowly making Tom stop hissing at whoever else because he has to share Harry with them and that's his soulmate. Yes even if he likes them too he's just Like That. He's so very not suited to polyamory, it would be extremely entertaining reading a fic trying to make it work.

I remember reading a fic back in Ye Olden Days that was a Drarry snippet with Severus looking in from the outside wishing he could be with Harry but Knowing Deep in his Soul that he was Wrong for him. I'd link it but I'm like 90% sure it was in french and I don't want to go looking through FFnet for it right now haha. Drarry just made me think of it. Oh and there was One good Drarry fic I loved, still in french, by and author who wrote banger after banger (all in french, yeah) on FFnet that introduced baby me to Supermassive Black Hole and the fact that you don't put two condoms on. It's Nothing Else Matters by Rose Malefoy if you want to look at the page and not understand the text haha (yes Malefoy with an e that's how it's spelt in french) Oh and my first Snarry was amnesiac Harry who was with Severus and forgets it so he gets into a relationship with Draco but then remembers and leaves him I think? It's been a while. I used to be into Drarry more but it's been years since I read some, since I discovered Snarry and all.

I think we should combine our poly Tomarry AUs to inflict the maximum amount of Situations on theses guys. Like throw in Draco throw in Severus and then let them take years and a lot of therapy to disentangle that mess and make a working polycule out of it. A bit like when you plop Sims in a house with full autonomy and wait for them to do something cool like starving themselves or making out with their brother's wife, except here I hope they'd figure it out and get a good ending at some point. Anyway.

Oh and in Tomarry news if you haven't tackled Draw me after you (let us run) by Toastranger you should go for it because now after about 200k words and 44 chapters Things have been Happening 👀 (I'm not subtle, they finally kissed is what happened) extremely fun fic, highly recommend once again. That said it is a time investment because I love long works

Your song rec is actually making me realise I don't have Tomarry songs? I have Obikin songs I have plenty of Snarry songs I have Johnlock songs and Kylux songs but nothing for these two. Ah well. I mean I guess The bog in the valley by the Irish Rovers is kind of a Harrymort song because it's a part of Dark Livestream but that's not very Tomarry specific. OH WAIT NO I do!! In the Daylight Again by Duplicity is named after a line from Salt and the Sea by the Lumineers so. One (1) Tomarry song. Good fic too, I can't make myself rereading it because it hurts my feelings :(( but it's really good

Cool song you got though! I've added it to my current playlist, love finding songs through other people and associating them to random stuff like that.

Anyway love you hope you have a good evening come back whenever you want <3

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

We Were Something, Don’t You Think So? [Chapter 2: The Middle Of Nowhere]

You are a Russian Grand Duchess in a time of revolution. Ben Hardy is a British government official tasked with smuggling you across Europe. You hate each other.

This is a work of fiction loosely inspired by the events of the Russian Revolution (1917-1923) and the downfall of the Romanov family. Many creative liberties were taken. No offense is meant to any actual people. Thank you for reading! :)

Song inspiration: “the 1” by Taylor Swift.

Chapter warnings: Lots of shouting, if you never learned about the Russian Revolution then here's your mini crash course, references to historical stuff like violence and disease, Kroshka the mule emerges as the only emotionally stable character.

Word count: 4.1k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💜

Taglist: @imtheinvisiblequeen @okilover02 @adrenaline-roulette @youngpastafanmug @m-1234 @tensecondvacation @deacyblues @haileymorelikestupid @rogerfuckintaylor @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @im-an-adult-ish @someforeigntragedy @mo-whore

I wake up feeling harder, as if sleeping on the ground with all its stones and cool indifference has taught my spine to straighten, to endure. This is a welcome revelation. I will need to be resilient, for my family and for myself. I also wake determined to set things right with my rescuer. I am a perfectly charming person, Mother and Papa have always said so; I’m not painfully shy like Olga, or aloof like Tati, or rather dull like Maria, and I certainly don’t run around putting frogs in people’s shoes like Anastasia. I make for excellent company. Surely Ben will realize this and we will become inseparable travel companions.

Outside in the overcast brisk morning air, Ben is already busy tacking the mule. He glances over and tosses me an apple. It bounces out of my floundering hands and rolls off into the woods. This is not an auspicious start to the day.

“You’ll still have to eat that,” Ben says. “There’s no extra food. I was only able to ask for as much as I could justify needing myself.”

“Right.” I go fetch the apple—rummaging around in leaves and sticks and shrubs—and take a bite, even though it’s bruised and definitely tastes like dirt. I beam at Ben triumphantly. I am tough! I am daring! I am enchanting! I can pull my own weight on this journey!

Ben doesn’t seem to notice. He pats the mule’s thick brown neck and smiles fondly at her. “How are we feeling this morning, Kroshka? Hmm? Who’s a lovely mule? Who’s going to take us all the way to the Trans-Siberian Railroad without even one measly word of complaint? That’s right, you are! Yes you are!” He lands a smacking kiss on the velvety grey fur of her muzzle.

I attempt polite conversation; more than that, I endeavor to learn about my dashing yet evasive rescuer. “So, tell me Ben, have you worked for Sir Buchanan long?”

“Four years,” Ben replies curtly.

“And you are…” I think of his notebook. “A…writer of some sort for him…?”

“I’m his press attaché.”

“Ah.” I recognize the French word for ‘attach,’ but not its meaning in the context of employment with an ambassador. “I can’t say I know what that entails.”

“I handle Sir Buchanan’s relations with the Russian newspapers. Drafting statements and briefing him on local opinions and the like. And since his health has declined, I find myself delivering some of his particularly confidential correspondence.”

“Oh, I see. And he could spare you for this mission? It seems like a burden that would be better carried by a man with military or exploratory experience.”

“My Russian is passable. And I can tolerate rougher conditions than most.” He points to a pile of clothes he’s laid out on a tree stump. “Those are for you. There’s a stream out that way.” He flicks a thumb towards the east. “Get ready however you need to, but be prepared to leave in fifteen minutes.”

I examine the clothing: plain and practical undergarments, a heavy wool sweater, stockings, boots, and something unexpected. I hold them up with clammy hands. “These are…” I swallow noisily. “Trousers.”

“Yes. They’re travel attire. Comfortable and easy to maneuver in if we need to move quickly.”

“I’ve never worn trousers before.”

“I thought you were amenable to a…a…what did you call it? An adventure. A grand adventure.” He says this melodramatically, like there’s some humor in it. Like he’s mocking me.

“I suppose I am,” I mutter, still scrutinizing the trousers.

“Fifteen minutes,” Ben reminds me sternly. Then he begins to disassemble the tent.

I trudge off through the woods until I find the stream. I clean myself with ice-cold water, drink it down until my teeth ache, change out of my nightgown and into these strange new clothes—Trousers! Mother would lock me in church for a month!—and gaze up into the cloudy, pastel blue sky that peeks between the fingers of the trees. It is very still here, and cold, and deathly quiet. I try to remember the last time I was truly alone, without Mother or Papa or my siblings or servants or guards within shouting distance. There is none that I can remember; perhaps there is none at all. Out here in the Siberian wilderness I feel unmoored from civilization, diminutive, vulnerable, peculiarly inconsequential. I decide I don’t like being alone. By the time I return to our campsite, Ben is ready and waiting beside the loaded cart. His right hand is resting on a clunky metal monster with ‘Olivetti’ written on it.

“I’m a press attaché,” he says with a mischievous grin. “And you’re a typist.”

“A what?”

“You work for Sir Buchanan’s office as a typist. That’s our story, anyway. You came along to assist me during my audience with the former tsar, and now we’re traveling back to Sir Buchanan’s headquarters in Saint Petersburg. So if anyone happens to ask, that’s what you are to tell them. Oh, and you’re British. Your English sounds clean enough.”

“Alright,” I reply, still gaping at the metal monster like a black box with gnashing fangs. “But what is that?”

Ben’s jaw falls open. “You don’t…?” Then he rubs his forehead, sighing deeply. “Jesus Christ. You’ve never used a typewriter. Of course you haven’t. Great. Fantastic.”

“We always write by hand. My penmanship is flawless, Mother saw to that.” She’s still battling with Anastasia, but that’s a war that may go on as long as the one between the sun and the moon.

“Okay. Okay. This works out, actually. Because I’m not going to entertain you all day. So here is your assignment.” Ben slaps the back of what he tells me is a typewriter, and then waves for me to come closer. He reaches into the pocket of his coat and produces a British passport. Every line is filled out except for the name. He slides the paper into the machine and makes some bewildering adjustments. “So, you insert the paper, set the carriage—that’s this roller-type piece here—and type.” He taps forcefully on the keys until two words appear in the blank reserved for the passport holder’s name: Lana Brinkley.

“That’s me?” I ask doubtfully.

Ben smirks, amused. “That’s you.”

“So you could have given me a better name if you wanted to!”

“But then how would you learn humility?” He removes the fraudulent passport, shakes the paper until it dries, folds it into a neat little square, and slips it back into his coat pocket. “If you’re typing a longer message, the typewriter will ding when you’ve reached the end of each line. Then you use the lever to move the paper down, reset the carriage, and resume typing.”

I nod, but without much confidence. This seems complicated.

“You said you wanted a carriage,” Ben teases.

“Yes, one with magnificent draft horses and velvet seats and preferably no less than two servants. Not…whatever that is.”

“Well, if you’re going to pass for a typist, I’m afraid you must learn to type.” He finds me a stack of blank paper in his collection of bags and trunks, and then climbs into the front of the cart as I get into the back. The trousers, I hate to admit to myself, do make it easier to move around, although I’m not sure I approve of how much they accentuate the shape of my body. The thought of Ben looking at me in them gives me a plunging sort of feeling that is half-mortification and half-thrill…not that he has exhibited any interest at all. “Before we go any farther, do you have anything with you that I don’t know about?”

He means things like the heirlooms I have squirreled away in the large steamer trunk: the jewels sewn into my dress, the photograph. I can sense that he wouldn’t want me to have them, although I’m not sure why. In any case, I have no intention of giving them up. The jewels are the only thing of value that I have to trade if we find ourselves in a desperate situation. The photograph is the only string left that connects me back to my family, my home. “No,” I reply primly.

“Good.” He whistles at the mule and she tugs us through the trees and out onto the dirt road that leads, eventually, to the train station. As we ride joltingly along, the creaky cart wheels bumping over every rock and mound and muddy trough, I practice my typing: very slowly at first, and with only my index fingers. I read aloud as I go, gradually picking up speed.

“There once was a German princess born in the Duchy of Hesse. She was very beautiful but very shy. She had a wonderful talent for playing piano, but would run and hide if anyone asked her to perform in public. One day, when she was attending the wedding of her sister, the princess met a prince from a distant kingdom. They were only children, but they instantly knew they had found true love. They snuck off together and carved their names into a window pane. Over the years, each conspired to marry the other. They refused many suitors and wrote each other hundreds of letters. His family did not approve of the princess’s religion and lack of charisma; her family did not approve of the prince’s distant and troubled nation. But at last it became apparent to all that no earthly forces could keep the couple apart. Ten years after their first meeting, the prince and princess were finally married. And they lived joyously and peacefully in each other’s service for the rest of their days.”

Ben lights one of his hand-rolled cigarettes. The smoke doesn’t bother me; on the contrary, it reminds me of Papa smoking his pipe in his study, in the garden, as he read to us by the fireplace, as he danced with Mother in ballrooms back when she could still dance. It reminds me of home. “I’m not sure if you’ll ever give Shakespeare a run for his money, but I’ll admit I’m marginally entertained.”

I smile to myself, sentimental warmth rising in my face. “It’s Papa and Mother’s story.”

“Huh. I didn’t know your people were allowed to marry for love.”

By ‘your people,’ he seems to mean royalty, and there is some derision in his deep voice. “Well, surely duty must come first. But when love can accompany it, that’s a happy coincidence.”

“And what if duty compels you to marry a man who is, say, cruel? Or dreadfully boring? Or in love with another woman? Or who closely resembles a mole-rat?”

I resume my typing with a new exercise. For each letter of the alphabet, I type a French word that begins with it. “I don’t think that sort of thing happens very often.”

“But if it did.”

I shrug, not especially enjoying this topic of discussion. “Then duty comes first, as I said. But I believe most royal couples are perfectly content. At least nine out of every ten.”

“That many!” Ben marvels sarcastically. “Have you ever considered that your own personal experience, as pleasant as it may be, could be coloring your perception of how the world works?”

I ignore him and continue my typing. Attaché for A, bisou for B, croissant for C, doux for D…

After a moment, Ben says: “You aren’t going to regale me with another fairytale? I’m devastated.”

“I’m busy practicing my French now. Please don’t intrude.”

“You speak French as well as Russian and English?” He sounds impressed; for a split second anyway, just long enough for me to catch it like a firefly in my fist.

“And Italian, and Latin. And I’ve just started on Japanese.”

“But no German? That seems like it would be an easier beast to slay.”

“I’ve always purposefully avoided learning it, even though Mother’s family is German. I never envisioned myself marrying a German. I figured Maria could take that bullet. She doesn’t care, she’d marry anyone who could give her a castle and ten babies and a bulldog or two. I would say she was a milkmaid in a past life, but Mother’s heart would stop dead if she thought I subscribed to reincarnation.”

“Not fond of Germans?” Ben asks. “Well, who can blame you. Half the world isn’t fond of them at the moment.”

“I suppose they weren’t so awful before the Great War. But they’re rather boorish, aren’t they? They always sound like they’re angry. Like someone just stole their horse and they’re screaming at them from the front porch to come back or else.” I smile dreamily as I type. “I’ve always fancied the thought of marrying a prince from a glamorous, romantic kingdom. Maybe Italy or Greece. There has even been talk of me marrying Uncle George’s eldest son David. He’s rather beguiling. Tall and slim. Clear blue eyes like a lake. And he’s going to be the king of the British Empire one day, you know. We could holiday together in beautiful, sunny colonies like the Bahamas.”

“You’re still as important as all that? Important enough to make a marriage of that political significance, I mean.” Ben glances back at me and lifts one thick, dark, inquisitive eyebrow. “Seeing as your family doesn’t have a kingdom anymore.”

This is an insensitive thing for him to say. I frown down at the typewriter. “A wife almost always assumes the kingdom of her husband, so why should she require her own? She needs only sound breeding and a suitable temperament. And besides, we might yet return one day.”

Ben twists all the way around to stare at me, the reigns falling out of his hands. Fortunately, the mule seems to know her own way around. “I’m sorry, what?”

“It has been a brutal few years. The Great War, the supply shortages, the bad harvests…the people are frustrated, and understandably so. They lashed out blindly, at those who didn’t deserve it, at us. But the dust will clear. And when it does, I think the Russian people will come to their senses and realize that they want us back. That they need us.”

“Are you insane?” Ben snaps. “Are you utterly brainless? What’s floating around in that skull besides fiction and languages you’ll never use once you’re married off to some prince who only sees you as a broodmare?”

“How dare you! You can’t speak to me like this—!”

“For years, for a bloody decade, Sir Buchanan warned your father about what was coming. He tried to get him to moderate his views, to give the people more voice in government, to stop murdering them when they protested. And when none of that worked and the end was apparent, Sir Buchanan tried to convince your father to abdicate long before he did. Don’t you understand?! None of this needed to happen! Your family could have fled to Britain years ago, before the animosity against your father spread like wildfire across the globe, and Russia could have established their own parliament like Britain’s and negotiated a peace treaty to stay out of the war and none of us would be here now if not for your father’s selfish, pointless obstinacy—!”

“My father is a good man,” I choke out as hot, furious tears burn in my eyes.

“And he was a terrible ruler!” Ben shoots back like artillery. “He ordered protesters to be butchered, he sent untrained boys to die in some other country’s war, he clung to the throne for no one’s benefit but his own—”

“And what about my benefit?” I demand, still weeping, feeling monstrously like a child. “What about my mother’s and my sisters’ and Alexei’s? He must have feared for our futures if we were dethroned and left without any resources, any security, anyplace to call home—”

“He did you no favors,” Ben says harshly. “Half the country—the country that you obviously have not even a rudimentary understanding of—are moderates scrambling to secure the Provisional Government and disentangle themselves from the war while still somehow preserving their dignity and that of the millions of dead soldiers Russia has already laid on the altar. The other half are trying to instigate a wholesale communist revolution. There is no one, no one, who wants the tsar back. And you better pray to God that the communists don’t manage to seize power before King George gets your family out, or your father just might be guillotined on the steps of Saint Basil’s Cathedral.”

I bolt to my feet unsteadily, grip the side of the lurching cart, and leap out onto the dirt road.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Ben shouts after me.

I take off sprinting down the road, the wind whipping my face, sobbing as I run beneath the shadows of trees until my lungs are columns of flames and my legs feel wobbly and boneless. I can hear the pounding of the mule’s hooves approaching, the hurtling of wooden wheels, the slapping of leather reins. I am forced to slow to a vigorous march as my body betrays me, wheezing and aching and as ineffectual as a woman is so often assumed to be. The salacious trousers have come in handy once again. Who would have guessed.

Ben pulls up alongside me, reining in the mule to match my pace. “Hey! Get back in the cart!”

“I’ll walk the rest of the way to the railroad station.”

“It’s 200 more kilometers!”

“See you there.”

Now Ben jumps out of the cart. The mule, perplexed but not rattled, comes to a halt and waits in the middle of the road with her long ears angled in opposite directions. Ben rushes in front of me and leans down until we’re at eye-level, breathing heavily. I can smell smoke on him, and something else too: maybe cologne, maybe soap, maybe aftershave, maybe just the scent of a man in his prime. His lips are pink and full and soft-looking, I notice, as if for the first time. His cheeks are irritated and red from the wind; the ruthlessness of the climate here doesn’t agree with him. It is the only way in which I am stronger than he is. His green eyes are wide and blazing. “Get. In. The. Cart.”

“No,” I whisper, tears all over my face.

“You can’t just run off like that,” he pleads, less angry now. “Where are you going to go? There’s nothing out here except trees and…I don’t know…probably bears and wolves and maybe even Siberian tigers. You can’t get ripped apart by wild animals. Don’t you want to make it to London? To argue for your family’s liberation? They could find no fiercer advocate than you, of that I am convinced.”

“How would you possibly protect me from a bear?”

Ben unbuttons his coat and pulls up his white wool sweater to show me a pistol tucked into the holster clipped to his belt. “Just in case,” he says, smirking crookedly, lowering his sweater again. “Now I am keeping no secrets from you, and you are harboring none from me. We’re even.”

I nod, sniffling, thinking of my jewels and photograph hidden in the steamer trunk. My words are so strained I can barely hear them myself, my hands are trembling; hell, I’m trembling all over. The possibility is unimaginable. “Do you really think they’re going to kill Papa?”

Ben sighs, shaking his head. “No, I don’t,” he replies gently. “I think the Provisional Government will be able to keep the communists in check for now. I think they will leap at the opportunity to ship the former tsar off to Britain without the potential controversy of a trial and execution. And I also think we should get back in the cart and keep moving now.”

“I’m sorry your boss gave you this assignment and now you have to risk your life for a family that you evidently hate,” I lash out like a cornered animal, hissing and brandishing its glinting claws. “For a grand duchess that you hate. This must be an awful inconvenience for you.”

“It’s rather more complicated than that,” Ben says. “There’s some opportunity in it as well.”

Of course: his leather-bound notebook full of observations, his scrawled recollections to one day build into a famed article about our journey. An article full of what he truly thinks about me. I feel suddenly, violently nauseous. I feel horrified.

What happened to the grand adventure that I imagined? Where did it go?

And all at once, I can’t even remember how I pictured this journey unfolding; I can’t conjure up some rose-colored vision of me and Ben falling into an effortless friendship, flirting lightly and innocently, discovering new corners of the earth together, parting ways in London as lifelong confidants. Now I can only see Papa as he murmurs folktales older than Christianity with candlelight dancing on his smiling face, as he chases me and my sisters around the gardens with outstretched arms and sparkling eyes, as he carries Alexei from one room to the next when my brother’s joints are inflamed and excruciating and useless, as he never unburdens his mind to his wife or children but spends long afternoons chopping wood as the sun sinks into the west and the lines in his pale face grow deeper.

He couldn’t be responsible for bloodshed, for mercilessness. He’s not that kind of man. He’s never been that kind of man.

“We really should keep moving,” Ben prompts.

“Fine,” I fling back as I shove by him. I mop my tears away with the sleeve of my wool sweater, climb into the back of the wooden cart, and sit as far as I can from Ben with my bent knees hugged to my chest. I stare silently off into the forest as the mule drags us towards the Trans-Siberian Railroad, towards Moscow and Saint Petersburg and the Baltic Sea and London, towards the conclusion of this tenuous partnership and the redemption of my family. I am looking forward to soon never having to see Benjamin Hardy again, and yet I’m also not; and this is a difficult paradox to put into words of any language.

We don’t stop until it’s almost dusk. Ben hops down from the cart, leads the mule off the road by her bridle (and gives her an encouraging scratch on the forelock when she hesitates), and begins to set up camp in a small clearing encircled by heaps of frost grass. Dinner is loaves of bread again—even more tough and dry than yesterday—and metallic-tasting water from canteens. Dessert is a hand-rolled cigarette for Ben and a handful of honeyberries I found in the bushes for me. And when Ben grapples with the tent, I come over to help him with it just to prove I can.

Ben builds a fire, and we sit wordlessly on opposite sides of it with the reflections of flames in our eyes. Ben jots down today’s thoughts in his notebook, every so often glancing off into nowhere and tapping his chin thoughtfully with the end of his pen, biting his full lower lip absentmindedly as he sifts through the ocean of word in his head to fish out the right one. Meanwhile, I read my copy of Tarzan of the Apes. I stumble across a few English terms I don’t know—quixotic, cartography, constellations, ruminate—but I don’t ask Ben about them.

After a long time, when the moon and stars have emerged bright and ancient in the night sky, Ben closes his notebook and watches me. At first I ignore him. And then, eventually, I can’t anymore.

“What?” I ask irritably, keeping my place in Tarzan of the Apes with my pinky finger, which is nearly numb from the cold.

Ben’s words are calm, restrained, painstakingly chosen. Firelight is fierce and bloody on his face. “I had two infant brothers die of pneumonia, a perfectly preventable illness had they had access to good doctors and proper nutrition and a warm dry home, which they did not. I had a sister die in childbirth because there was no midwife available to attend to her. I have had friends come home from the war with limbs or half their faces missing, a fate which I myself am spared only because of my employment with Sir Buchanan. You have no idea what the world has been through while you were off playing board games and reading novels in greenhouses and lounging on lakeshores with your idyllic little family. You have no idea what life is like for the rest of us. And perhaps that’s not your fault, and it is unjust of me to resent you for it, and I must learn to temper this wrath I’ve been carrying around in my chest since childhood. But it’s still true.”

He stands, clutching his notebook with hands that are red from the savage Siberian wind, and vanishes into the tent.