#in any case i hope your life is brighter even without our contact

[lunartearrose]

Man i miss u (agitated)

[cora-vizsla]

Hypnotic (Taking Over Me)- Chapter 3

Pairing: Eventual Jedi!OC x Sith!Obi Wan

Word Count: 3.7 K

Story Rating: E (18+)

Chapter Rating: I’m just gonna move these up to E now because I’d rather be safe than sorry.

Warning: Swearing. Threats of violence. Cannon typical violence. Calm kidnapping. There was only one bed. Almost naked cuddling. Dare I say fluff??

A/N: Please let me know if I missed any tags!

Zara was unable to fall back asleep. She could feel when Obi Wan finally succumbed to his own exhaustion and it set her on edge. She looked around quietly, keeping tabs on his signature across the building. There had been hope she could find her saber, but he must have stashed it away somewhere.

When she looked down to see her boots by the door, she decided she had no other choice. She couldn’t stay with her captor. There was a lack of clarity she wanted to rip out of her head even if it meant doing something risky. She told herself that Anakin wouldn’t sit around and wait at the mercy of anyone. It wasn’t her normal avenue of actions but hers obviously weren’t working. She shut her eyes and spoke like a mantra that Anakin would want her to fight. He would want her to escape.

Zara quickly pulled on her boots and grabbed a large jacket by the door. She could feel the chill coming through the door but knew that was the only time it was going to happen.

“I am a Jedi knight. I can do this. I can get back and warn the counsel. I can save Anakin.”

She winced when the cold hit her face and she realized then Obi Wan would feel the air change. She pulled the door shut and started running off in the direction she thought they had come from. There were still some footprints, but it was hard to follow. Snow had drifted over part of their journey, so she stopped to look around. Between the cold and running, her chest was heaving trying to pull in air.

“Zara! Zara you are going to die trying to run off like this!”

She whipped around to her captor having already caught up to her.

“I can’t stay here! I can’t let you manipulate me and hurt Anakin. I won’t!”

“You’re smarter than this!”

“Let me go! If you have one shred of decency in you, let me go!”

He stood up tall and shrugged his jacket off, letting it fall to the ground. He tossed something to Zara, and she caught it quickly, gasping when she realized it was her saber. She looked back up at him as he ignited his blood red blade.

“Fight me. If you can best me, I’ll deliver you back to the temple myself.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then you stay here and stop trying to get yourself killed.”

She looked down at her saber and considered what he was saying. She had yet to actually see him fight.

“Letting me go would be directly going against your Master.”

“It would.”

“Then why offer me this?”

“If I can’t best a new Jedi Knight then I don’t deserve to keep her captive.”

Resolution washed over her. She ignited her blade and a sick smile spread across the Siths face. She carefully pulled off her own jacket and set it down, not taking her eyes off her enemy. He spun his saber a few times easily and fluidly.

“Come on, darling, it’s cold out here. Time to get this over with so we can get back in the warmth of our home.”

Zara wanted to snarl but instead closed her eyes and took a deep steadying breath. She let herself feel everything within the force. She trusted herself and her abilities. When she opened her eyes, she had a new look of determination. She no longer looked at him as Obi Wan, lost Jedi. He was Lord Veth and he needed to be defeated.

Veth was the first to move forward, quicker than she expected, and their sabers clashed together. He gave her a dangerous smile and broke away, quickly striking again with a fury she was not prepared for. She was able to block every swing, but it frustrated her she couldn’t turn it, so she was on the offensive. She could tell he was holding back and only pushing forward to keep her unbalanced. He felt her frustration and laughed when they locked their sabers together again.

“Darling, have I told you how stunning you look in my clothes?”

In frustration, Zara shot her arm out, using the force to push him back. He was able to keep himself on his feet as he immediately moved forward again. With a grin, Zara raised her hand again and a bright light emanated around her. Veth shielded his eyes, temporarily caught off balance.

“Little knight you surprise me.”

“Stars, do you ever shut up?”

“How rude, we were having such a good conversation. How long are you going to keep this up? I’m stronger than you are, sweetheart. You aren’t going to best me in battle.”

She knew he was right. Between fighting off the cold and trying to use the force so much she was getting exhausted. She stepped forward a few steps, hoping the blinding light would protect her movements just a bit. When she dropped her arm and ceased the blinding light, she quickly brought her saber down. Veth seemed to be expecting it when his arm shot up, using the force to wrap tightly around her throat.

“Now, now. That wasn’t very admirable. You are so much better than cheap tricks.”

He kept the force on her long enough that she dropped her saber and clawed at herself. He watched her struggle until tears welled in her eyes.

“Do you yield, darling?”

She shook her head and he sighed in annoyance. He let go, letting her crash to the ground with a thud. When she tried to move further than up to her knees, she realized that he was still using the force to keep her in place.

“I’m not killing you. Nice try though.”

He held his saber up to her chest and watched as the red danced off her face.

“Yield.”

“Why? You said you won’t kill me.”

“I can maim you. Maybe cut one of your legs off so you can’t run anymore. You only really need one hand. Hope you get my point.”

She glared up at him in defiance. He sighed and moved the blade forward, pressing it against her shoulder. Zara cried out from the burn and he shifted his weight, clearly annoyed.

“I’m not really into torture, dear. Please just yield so we can go inside.”

“No.”

“Fine.”

He reached forward and touched her head, rendering her unconscious instantly. He caught her and pulled her limp body close to his. Once he made sure he had both sabers he started towards the cabin.

“You have so much to learn, little knight. Hopefully you can accomplish that without many more scars.”

---

Zaras eyes fluttered open to immediately seeing the fireplace. She took inventory of her body and other than the tingle of warming limbs, she seemed to be okay. There were blankets under her as padding on the hard floor and a pillow under her head. When she shifted, she realized that the blankets felt way too soft against her skin. She peeked under the blanket to see that she was wearing nothing but her breast band and underwear.

“Your clothes were wet. Not that you believe anything I say but nothing unfavorable happened to you. I may be a monster, but I am not that type.”

She turned her head to look at him. He was sitting leaning against the wall wearing fresh clothes and his hair was wet where it fell in front of his eyes. She sat up slowly making sure one of the blankets was wrapped around her still.

“I placed a bacta patch on your shoulder. It shouldn’t scar too badly.”

She nodded and continued to look at him.

“Surprised you didn’t put force binders on me.”

“Why? The force is the only reason why you didn’t die out there. I don’t think you understand how inhabitable this planet is.”

“You’re mad at me.”

He sighed and brushed his hair back, finally making eye contact with her.

“I’m disappointed that you would be that reckless. You easily could have died.”

“What does it even matter? You accomplished your goal either way. Anakin is at the mercy of your Master and I am out of the picture.”

“You.. Zara I have met many beings in my travels in my life. I have traveled to many planets and seen wars rage around me. Up until I saw you on the battlefield, I had only ever known of one person that cared so deeply for life. It.. got her killed and the galaxy is darker for it.”

“The one you were in love with?”

He nodded and pulled one knee up so he could rest his arm on it. Zara caught herself wanting to console him but kept still. Master Windu had told her multiple times that her compassion could be dangerous. She didn’t want him to be right, but she was trying to figure out how to console her Sith captor.

“S-Satine. Her name was Satine. I was a padawan still when I went to Mandalore to protect her.”

“She was a Mandalorian?”

“Yes, the leader actually. She needed help because she saw a brighter future for her people. A future free of war and loss. She saw peace when no one else could, myself included.”

“Is that why you fell?”

He scoffed and shook his head.

“No. I told you, the Jedi did that to me. Though finding out she was gone did contribute to my anger.”

“I still don’t see how this connects to me.”

“The first thing I noticed about Satine was the fact that she cared so deeply. When faced with opposition she didn’t want to raise a weapon, she wanted to figure out how to stop everyone else from doing so. I followed you and Anakin on one of your first missions. It was the first opportunity that I could get to you without a Jedi Master sensing me the moment I landed.”

“That was nearly two cycles ago.”

“I know. I stood where I could keep the high ground in case you two noticed me. I expected you two to run in with absolutely no plan.”

“That’s what Anakin wanted to do.”

He nodded and she smiled softly at the memory.

“You though, darling, you had a plan. You had a plan to keep every one of your clone troopers safe. Clones. Quite literally made to be dispensable and replaceable. Yet you talked to them and listened to them. Your plan was good. Not strategic or quick, but it was the path of least resistance.”

Zara’s face fell and she sighed.

“I lost three troopers that day. The counsel let me know it was a success but all I felt was heartache. Life had been lost.”

“I saw that too. You don’t look like her nor do you act like her. Not really. You have the same heart though. I thought it was one of a kind but here you are, shining so brightly it’s sickening.”

Zara laughed and wrapped her covered arms around her legs, resting her head on her knees.

“Wont your Master find you weak for not killing me?”

“No. I told him I could turn you to the dark side.”

“I won’t.”

“I know that, sweetheart. I knew that from the beginning. I also knew that his greed and lust for power would see two incredibly young and strong force users under his control. He only needs Skywalker. He won’t pay as much attention to you. You’re just a bonus.”

“That’s.. devious.”

He chuckled and finally smiled fully.

“What else do you expect? I thought that’s all you saw in Sith.”

“You’re openly deceiving your Master.”

“The end goal of a Sith is to overpower their Master. We don’t work with them. We don’t trust them.”

“That sounds like a very lonely life, Obi Wan.”

He gave her a genuine smile. It was free of malice and ulterior motives. Zara couldn’t help but smile back at him, feeling a strange sense of peace flowing between the two.

“So is a life devoid of love and connections. We have two different types of master’s that lead us to the same cruel fate.”

Zara wanted to argue with him. She wanted to tell him that she was happy being a Jedi and didn’t mind the compromises she had to endure because of it. There was a line she had recited a thousand times when faced with questions about her chosen life. At that moment she couldn’t seem to form it into words.

“Your silences speak volumes, Jedi.”

“So do your actions, Sith. Where does that leave us?”

“I suppose we can figure it out tomorrow.”

“Why rush it? Doesn’t seem like either of us are going anywhere anytime soon.”

“How right you are, little knight. A Jedi and a Sith climb into a ship.”

Zara laughed and grinned at her own joke.

“And somehow find a way to understand each other.”

“For now.”

“Right. For now.”

---

Zara wished she wasn’t comfortable. As she laid next to the fire wrapped in comfortable blankets, she felt warm which was something she had been missing for days. The two had fallen into a comfortable silence. When she heard Obi Wan sigh, she turned to look at him. He looked much less comfortable than when she had woken up.

“Are you okay?”

He startled and looked at her, nodding.

“I’m fine, darling. Don’t fret about me. It’s unbecoming of a Jedi Knight.”

She huffed out a sigh and looked at him closer. She noticed the small tremors in his hands.

“You’re cold.”

“You are so rather perceptive.”

“Is your room warm?”

“Not particularly.”

She looked at all the blankets she was wrapped up in and felt guilty.

“Why don’t.. why don’t you come over here?”

His head snapped up at her question and it made her stifle a laugh.

“I can see that you’re cold. Instead of being warm in your own home you’re making sure that I am.”

“What kind of host would I be if I let you freeze to death.”

“Veth.”

“Again, not that kind of monster. Can’t imagine freezing to death would be very comfortable.”

“Can’t imagine? Looks like you are right now.”

He chuckled and went to retort but Zara wasn’t having it.

“Obi Wan.”

He fell silent and looked at her.

“If you can’t look at it as an act of kindness, look at it as an act of self-preservation. You want me to make smart choices, right?”

“Self-preservation.”

“If you die, I’m stuck on the planet with no idea where your ship is. Sitting in the house with a frozen Sith doesn’t sound fun.”

He chuckled and got up, walking over to where she was curled up by the fire. He slipped his outer shirt off and hesitated. Zara held open the blankets, so he climbed in, making sure he wasn’t touching her. When he let out a sigh at the heat she smiled.

“Between the fire and how warm it is in here you should be comfortable soon.”

“It’s already leagues better.”

“Good.”

He looked at her steadily enough that she could see all the shades in his eyes. When he wasn’t threatening or yelling at her she thought that they were almost beautiful. He reached up and gently pushed her hair back, his fingers grazing her skin.

“Stars, Obi Wan, you’re freezing.”

“I’ll survive.”

“You’ve really got to stop running out into the cold chasing stupid Jedi.”

He smirked and nodded, looking down as Zara took his hands in hers.

“Not to be crass, but you would get warmer if you weren’t wearing your clothes.”

He chuckled and shook his head.

“You’re taking all my lines, sweetheart.”

“Just self-preservation, remember?”

“Right. Not an ounce of kindness.”

“For you? Absolutely not. Never.”

He hummed and slipped his shirt off before doing the same with his pants. He was left wearing only his own underwear making it easier for Zara to see just how discolored his skin was.

“Veth, now who is being foolish.”

“I like it better when you call me Obi Wan.”

“Well, Obi Wan doesn’t sound like a fool. So, when you’re acting foolish then I’ll call you by a foolish name.”

He chuckled and shifted closer. They both told themselves it was to get more heat. Both were convinced that the only reason the other was close was to ensure they survived. Survival was smart. Sharing a bed with a sworn enemy was not. So, the easiest way to deal with their situation was to convince themselves that everything was simple.

“Then what do I call you when you’re being foolish?”

“Hmm. You usually call me Jedi.”

“It is one of the worst insults I know.”

“Watch it.”

They both laughed and Zara yawned.

“Get some sleep. Please don’t bolt out the door again.”

“I couldn’t escape without waking you regardless. You’re on the outside of this blanket cocoon. I’d have to uncover you.”

“Very true.”

“Turn around. Face the fire so you can get some heat from it.”

“You could just tell me I’m ugly.”

“Shut up, Veth.”

Obi Wan chuckled and rolled to his right, reveling at the heat of the fire on his face. He didn’t want to admit it, but he had been rather cold. When he felt a small arm wrap around him and Zara’s body press against his back, he had to stop himself from flinching. He felt her rest her forehead against his upper back and nestle in. He could have groaned at how warm she was but absolutely didn’t want to scare her off.

“Maker you’re cold. Next time you kidnap someone bring them to a more temperate planet.”

He chuckled and gently moved his arm, so he could place his hand over hers.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good.”

He felt her nestle in deeper, getting comfortable up against him. He smiled to himself when her sigh danced across his skin right before she fell asleep. He knew that he should be trying to turn her to the dark. His Master would be furious at his weakness. The idea of trying to corrupt someone so light and kind was repulsive to him.

He could feel her breath steadily fan across his back as she slept peacefully. He hated the Jedi, that much was true. He would never be able to go back nor would he be able to escape the darkness that held him so tightly. Zara didn’t make him forgive the Jedi, but he found himself forgiving her for being one.

It had been a very long time since Obi Wan felt anything but contempt for another living being. He could hardly remember what it felt like to have someone’s arm wrapped around him, no matter the circumstance. He tried to tell himself that he shouldn’t feel anything but the physical sensation of warmth.

The truth though? That warmth meant everything to him.

---

When Zara woke, she didn’t want to open her eyes. She felt warm and comfortable regardless of how sore her body was. She nestled her face into the warmth in front of her and let out a sleepy sigh. When she felt something shift, she froze.

“Did you forget you fell asleep next to me?”

She opened her eyes and found herself looking directly at Obi Wan’s bare chest. He had his arms wrapped around her, holding her close to him.

“I guess I did. Uhm. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. We are both warm. Survival, right?”

She nodded against him, tentatively letting herself nestle back into the heat surrounding them.

“I didn’t.. I didn’t wake you at all I hope?”

“If you had any nightmares they didn’t show. Do you have them most nights?”

“Sleep isn’t something that is usually peaceful for me.”

“Perhaps there was enough darkness around you that your mind didn’t need to manifest any of it.”

Zara looked back up as he looked down, locking eyes with her.

“Your darkness is.. different.”

“Oh?”

He had an amused look on his face but the hesitance in his eyes told Zara that he was uncomfortable. She shook her head and looked back down. They had come to a tentative peace, but he was still dangerous. A different type of darkness didn’t mean it wasn’t dangerous. Obi Wan gently hook his finger under her chin, tilting her head back up.

“You have nothing to fear, darling.”

“We both know that isn’t true.”

He hummed as he ran his thumb across her bottom lip.

“I suppose you are correct. I don’t want you to fear me though. I will not harm you outside of necessity. Now tell me, what did you mean?”

Zara took a steady breath, willing down the nervousness and trepidation. She wasn’t used to being close to people, let alone someone who was an enemy of everything she stood for. She was vulnerable which was something she just was not comfortable with.

“That first day that I saw you, when you confronted Anakin and me. I felt your darkness. I felt it long before I saw you. I’m no stranger to the dark side but I also have never felt it the way that you carry it. You’re dark but.. you’re not chaotic. I see you calculating everything. As much as you say that I am different for my reverence for life, you are different too.”

“You picked all that up when we met?”

“I picked up on it but the longer I’ve been around you the more I see it. I’ve run into other Sith. I’ve fought them. Their energy was hard to be around because it was so unstable.”

“Are you saying I am less of a Sith?”

“No. Your eyes let me know that truth. It’s not that you’re light.”

He chuckled and moved his hand, so he was cupping her face.

“Your darkness is strong. It’s powerful but it isn’t all consuming like the others I’ve come across. You have a control over yourself that rivals even some of the strongest Jedi I have known.”

“Hmm, that almost sounds like a compliment.”

“I guess it is. At the very least it’s an admittance of me being taken by surprise. You are.. not what I expected.”

“Neither are you, darling. Neither are you.”

Tag List:

@mapplestrudel​

If you would like to be added/removed please let me know

[detectiveupstead]

What A Guy [Upstead One Shot]

Summary: Jay pays Hailey a visit when he hears about her break up with Adam. Because he’s a good partner.

“Man, this week felt like it dragged,” Adam sighed, running his fingers through his hair as he slid into the booth across from Jay.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Jay said, leaning back in the booth, hands wrapped around the beer bottle as he played with the label. Molly’s was somewhat busy that night, given the weekend was coming up. Music was playing and he could see Severide and Casey playing darts on the other side.

Kevin, who swallowed his sip of beer, settled the bottle back down and let out a breath of his own. “Well, at least we got Shaw. And Gina got her meds,” he said, looking towards the brighter side of things.

Jay flicked his eyebrows up, nodding in agreement. They’d just wrapped up the case the day before, and today had been spent finishing up any of the paperwork that needed to be filed. They all agreed it had been a bit of a difficult case, given that Gina and her husband Bob only wanted her to live and were wrapped up in Shaw’s schemes. It was rough, to say the least, to see how far a man would go for someone he loved. But Jay couldn’t fault Bob for that.

“Gotta tell you guys—after I down a few beers, I can’t wait to knock out,” Adam said with a shake of his head. Jay was inclined to agree with him.

“’Course you can’t,” Kevin said, shooting his friend a teasing look, eyebrows raised and smile coy. “You’ve got Upton right next to you.”

Jay hoped neither of them noticed the way his grip tightened on his beer bottle, feeling something clench in his chest as he took a long sip. He’d been doing a good job in not thinking about his partner and Adam together—and an even better job in not considering why he felt so uncomfortable about it.

Across from him, he noticed the way Adam’s expression faltered, leaning back. “Ah,” he said, clicking his tongue, avoiding eye contact with either of his friends. “Yeah, no, Hailey and I—we’re over.”

A startled expression crossed over Jay’s face at Adam’s news, blinking at him in incredulity, unsure if he’d heard him right. But judging by Kevin’s bewildered expression, Jay knew he’d heard Adam right. They’d ended things? When? And why hadn’t Hailey said anything?

He thought of how she hadn’t told him she and Adam were together until Jay walked in on them arguing, so he wasn’t too surprised that she didn’t tell him the relationship was over. Despite his disappointment.

“Oh, shit, bro, I’m sorry to hear that,” Kevin said with a frown. He patted Adam’s shoulder as he asked, “You wanna talk about it?”

Adam’s lips quirked to the side. “Nah, it’s fine.”

Unable to help his curiosity, yet maintaining sensitivity for his friend, Jay asked, “What happened?”

“We just. . .” Adam shrugged, lips puckering thoughtfully for a moment. “We didn’t mesh well, y’know? Relationship wise.” He let out a breath, offering a small smile. “It wasn’t meant to become anything more and I think we both realized that in the end. So we, uh, broke it off last night.”

Last night?

Jay remembered Hailey’s words, remembered how she’d told him that she hadn’t expected anything to truly come from her and Adam getting together. How it had taken her off guard. He wondered if this breakup took her off guard, too. Wondered if he should be there for her.

She was his partner. He wanted to be there for her.

Jay frowned, shaking his head slightly at Adam. “I’m sorry, man,” he said genuinely, echoing Kevin’s words.

He stayed at Molly’s for another forty-five minutes before calling it a night. He bid Adam and Kevin goodnight and as he walked over to his truck, he shot Hailey a text.

Hey, you awake?

She responded quickly. Yeah, what’s up? Everything good?

Jay opened the door of his truck but didn’t get in as he texted her. Mind if I come over?

He bit his lip, watching as the three dots appeared in the lower left-hand corner. Yeah, sure thing.

A quick smile lifted at Jay’s lips as he hopped into the truck, letting out a breath as the engine roared to life. The drive to Hailey’s place was quick, consisting of Jay tapping his thumbs against the steering wheel and running his thoughts through his mind, wondering what, exactly, he was going to say to Hailey. Nothing came up, but that didn’t stop him from pulling up in front of her house.

Jay pocketed his keys as he approached the door, ringing the doorbell as he let out a breath. He could feel his heart drumming in his chest, telling himself he had no reason to be nervous. He was just checking in on his partner. He was allowed to do that, wasn’t he?

Unless he was overstepping. Unless this wasn’t something Hailey wanted to talk about and he was just going to make her uncomfortable.

He could feel himself beginning to panic at the idea of him shoving his nose in business that wasn’t his. But before he could back off, the door swung open, and there stood Hailey. She was in her leggings and an oversized Chicago Bears sweatshirt, looking all kinds of comfortable and homey, blonde tresses falling over her shoulders. Pretty, as always.

“Hey,” she greeted with a smile that hinted at her dimples, stepping to the side to let him in. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Jay answered as he stepped into the warmth of her home, hands still shoved in the pockets of his jacket as he turned to face her. He offered a smile. “Can’t a guy drop by to chat with his partner?”

Hailey raised her eyebrows, though a smile played on her mouth. “At eleven at night? Maybe,” she hummed as they walked into the kitchen. Glancing at him over her shoulder, she asked, “Scotch?”

One drink wouldn’t hurt—it’d ease his nerves far easier than the beer ever could. “Don’t mind if I do.”

He watched as Hailey poured them two glasses, his gaze trained on her face. She didn’t look. . . Heartbroken. Not that Hailey ever wore her emotions so clearly on her face on a regular basis. But Jay liked to think he was starting to read her expressions the longer they were partnered together. And right now, she was guarded. As if she knew exactly why he was there and was doing her best in keeping herself in check. He wanted to tell her she didn’t have to do that—not with him.

As she slid the glass over to him, Hailey raised her eyebrows. “Seriously, though—to what do I owe this pleasure?”

They stood at the counter, Jay bracing himself with one hand against it and the other wrapped around his glass. Meeting her blue eyes, Jay started cautiously, “I was at Molly’s with Adam, and. . .”

Understanding flickered across her features as she nodded. “And he told you we ended things.”

Jay pressed his lips together. “He did.” Hailey nodded again, dropping her gaze to her glass, tapping her nails against it. Jay ducked his head, trying to meet her eyes as he said, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Hailey let out a short, breathless chuckle as she pushed herself away from the counter. She shot him a quick smile. “I’m fine, Jay,” she told him, turning to walk towards the living room with her glass.

He gave her a flat look, even though she couldn’t see it, as he followed her. “Yeah, that was convincing,” he said after taking a sip of the Scotch. Hailey sat down on the couch and Jay joined her, putting his glass down on the coffee table. Resting his arms on his knees, Jay looked at Hailey, who sat to his right. “Look, Hails—I know it probably sounds a bit hypocritical coming from me, but our little talks over drinks don’t just have to be about work, you know? If there’s ever anything on your mind, you know I’m more than willing to listen.”

She was always willing to listen to him, to get him to talk if there was anything on his mind. He didn’t often cash that in, but he did at times, and Jay could admit after talking to Hailey, he always felt better. Especially when they got together after a bad case and needed to vent. Talking to Hailey. . . It always helped. She never judged him, always listened. And they worked—always.

“I know, Jay,” Hailey said, her voice quiet yet the gratitude obvious. She looked down at her hands between her knees, blonde hair curtaining her profile. Hailey was silent for a few moments and Jay wondered if she was going to let him in. If not, he was fine to sit in silence with her. Her company was always a comfort, and he knew the feeling was mutual.

“It wasn’t meant to last,” she finally said, catching Jay’s attention. “We got together without expecting much, y’know? I mean, we work well together but just. . . Professionally, I guess.” Hailey let out a laugh, then, but it was fake and didn’t sound right coming from her. “But I’m not heartbroken or anything. I mean, it sucks, but it’ll be fine.” When she smiled this time, Jay saw the sincerity in it, feeling something tighten in his chest at it being directed towards him. “No big deal—you didn’t have to check on me.”

Jay knew Hailey kept a lot to herself; he was the same way, but that’s why they worked—they were able to pull each out. They were able to find that balance, knowing when to push and when to give space. So, Jay shot Hailey a flat look, one that told her what exactly he thought of not checking on her. “You’re my partner.” Then, jokingly he added, “It’s in the job description.”

Hailey rolled her eyes, though her smile lingered, the fondness that prompted her dimples easing something in Jay’s chest. “What, having my back on the field and when I’m going through a break-up?”

Jay flashed her a grin, quick yet charming. “Absolutely.”

She snorted, reaching for her glass, bringing it up to her lips right after muttering fondly, “What a guy.”

He tipped his glass towards her before sipping it as well, feeling his smile grow. Her guy. He was her guy, and Jay could declare that unabashedly and proudly as he leaned back on the couch, comfortable in her presence as Hailey settled back as well. And so they sat together in silence, drinking their Scotch and reveling in each other’s company.

When Jay glanced over her, he’d see the small smile playing at her lips, any lingering tension having long since gone. As if his company was enough to put her at ease, make her forget anything weighing her down. He knew that’s how it felt for him when she was with him. He loved knowing it was mutual.

And so he sat with his partner in the quiet of her living room, giving her his company for as long as she wanted it, not knowing that if Hailey had it her way, she’d never let him leave.

[heartofsnark]

Can You Feel The Sun? (Chapter Eight): Icarus Falls

Notes: Why, yes, I am posting these relatively quickly. This is the last of a backlog since I’m actively still working on the next chapter, This is a doozy of a chapter, both emotionally and length wise, but I’m rather proud of it, if I’m being honest. I recommend settling in a snack and maybe...just maybe some tissues.... 

Word Count: 15327 

Chapter Warnings:  Multiple deaths, violence, gore, grief, angst. 

If you haven’t yet, you can read the previous chapter here!~

V and Jackie get into the backseat of the Delamain taxi. White and tan leather interior, despite looking the nicest she ever has in twenty years she still feels like she might stain the white leather. No driver, instead there’s screens and consoles in the back of the seats in front of them. An avatar of a bald man with stark unnaturally white skin and blue lips 

“Welcome on board this Delamain service. With Delamain, you leave your problems at the door,” the AI avatar greets them in a robotic voice. 

“Son of a bitch! Better fuckin' believe I will!” Jackie yells out, still grinning. V lets out a breath of air meant to sound like a laugh, but the lump in her throat isn’t making it any easier. 

“I see no reason why you should be using expletives.”

“Sorry, he gets… excited.”  Her voice is tighter than she wants it to be, her leg bouncing now. 

“Damn right, I’m excited. Hey, Del, what about that time I wanted to hire you for my cousin's bachelor party, huh?” 

“Unfortunately, we do not take on such contracts.”

“Three months I'd been savin' up scratch… Egh, water under the bridge. Hit it, Del!”

“Before we begin our journey, I must verify the identities of all customers. Please proceed to connect your personal links,” the mercs plug their personal links into the console, “Thank you. "Excelsior" package activated.”

Crisp subtitles for Delamain alight along her contacts, more comprehensive than the lip reading tech sometimes gives. Maybe his AI avatar enunciates more properly than a human, she wonders. 

“"Excelsior"? Hohoho, this just keeps gettin' better!”

Jackie laughs as the taxi cab starts to drive and V finds herself fiddling with her suit sleeve. It’s perfectly tailored, but she still feels like a kid in dress up. Having to pretend she’s a corpo, having to pretend to be a hearing person. Her bright painted nails seem to clash so much with the persona and she curses herself for not changing the polish. What if they’re caught right away? The corps smelling Heywood and The Badlands on them the second they walk through the door. What if the spoofed SID hack doesn’t work, what if the bot malfunctions… What if, what if, what if; spins around her brain. They can’t fuck this up, there’s no room for mistakes. One disaster will destroy their reputations, hell their entire merc careers. And that's the best case scenario. 

When she glances at Jackie there’s no hint of nerves, no hint of reservation or fear, just giddy excitement. Like a kid getting ready to hit up a party. 

“What’s got you riled up?” She asks in spoken English, deciding she’ll mostly speak for the ride since Jackie is the only person really here, that way he doesn’t have to look at her the entire time. And maybe she’s also hoping if she talks enough she won’t clam up too bad in Konpeki.  

“Hang on, watch this… Delamain! Initiate combat mode!”

She can see the bright red ink of his tattoo peeking from his suit sleeve, eyes drawn to it, and something about that scares her more; a hint of his Valentino roots showing, would it be a literal red flag for Konpeki security. 

“My apologies, but you do not appear to be in any sort of imminent danger,” Delamain crushes Jackie’s hopes, a frown replacing his grin. 

“Huh… Oh well. Trust me, he'll mow down an army of ‘Saka ninjas if it comes down to it,” Jackie explains to V and she wraps her arms around herself, resisting the desire to bring her legs up into the seat, trying to get her mind off her nerves. 

“So, what else is included in Excelsior mode?” V tries signing to the AI, curious if it has translation tech for ASL. 

“Comprehensive health coverage, including the handling and disposal of a client's remains should death occur on board,” Delamain responds without hesitation and instantly ruins any chance of her getting her mind off the massive risks within this job. 

“Damn. Shit got dark pretty quick,” Jackie comments. 

“Dex isn’t skimping though.” 

“And thanks to you, we're still gettin' a juicy forty percent.”

“You’re welcome.” 

“Excelsior…This is how you wanna cruise into the major leagues…” He says like the job is already done and they’re hitting up an after party… 

“Wouldn’t get too excited yet, Jack, doing a job not hitting up a party.” And her words are too sharp, voice too venomous and rough in her throat. She regrets it as soon as they leave her lips, as soon as she’s spoken them into reality, wishing she could swallow them back down. His face drops completely, eyes harsh and she knows she fucked up. 

“For real, V…? See me as that shallow?”

“I-”

“Lemme explain somethin' to you, V… My whole life I've spent in this shit around us! And I ain't goin' back!”

“I’m sorry, really, I just… I’m worried and I let my nerves talk for me, I’m sorry.” She quickly tries to smooth it over, those knots in her gut only winding tighter with Jackie mad at her. 

“Swear to christ, V, I will never fucking get you,” he says, shaking his head and looking out the window.

“What do you mean?” 

“Twenty years old, sitting in the back of a Delamain, on your way to do a job for Dex fuckin’ Deshawn and you can’t even muster a fuckin smile? You fuckin’ know what I’d have done to be where you are right now when I was your age, I was still dreaming of seeing The Afterlife! Took you less than a year to be here, took me ten! And you ain’t even happy about it! Then you act like I’m not takin’ it serious, like I don’t got my fuckin’ head in the game, just cause you can’t appreciate where the fuck you are right now!” 

She chews her lip, not sure what to say to him. Guilt coming over her. He’s right, she hasn’t lived in Night City nor been a merc nearly as long. He’s been doing this since he left the Valentinos… For Jackie this has been a lifelong dream, the ultimate goal. She didn’t even consider it a possibility until she met him and now she’s already on her way there. Of course he’s happy, on the precipice of his dreams coming true. 

“I’m sorry, really I didn’t mean to piss on your parade.” 

“Yet somehow you always do.” 

V sighs watching the city pass outside her window for a few more moments, tapping her fingers, that knot feels like a ball of lead now. She wants to claw her skin off,  tear and tear away at herself, at her being, and maybe, just maybe she’ll find someone better under the gore.  Someone who isn’t such a fucking asshole. Someone who knows how to keep their mouth shut and doesn’t ruin everything for everyone else. She’ll never understand why Jackie puts up with her, why he has for so long. She just doesn’t want to fuck this up. The job, her friendship, the little bit of happiness she’s built. V wrings her hands together, tight enough to hurt and she twists them a little harder, nails digging into the skin. If she can’t find anyone better maybe she’ll just claw away until she’s nothing at all. 

She’s already a bundle of nerves over the heist and she can’t stand another moment of the tension hanging thick in the air. 

“Did you fuck my wife?” She says in her best imitation of something between an Italian and a Brooklyn accent, watching Jackie’s face, the hint of a smile tugging at it. Tension starting to melt ever so slightly. 

“Don’t get me started,” he returns forcing the same cheesy voice. 

“Did you fuck my wife?” 

“I think you fucked my wife and got me started.” 

“I got started cause you fucked my wife.” 

“I could trace back the moment I got started it’d definitely be when you fucked my wife!” 

“That is unquestionably when I got started!” They’re smiling now, giggling at every other word as they choke on their cheesy jokes. Tension melts away as a weight is being lifted off her chest. 

“My records indicate that neither of you are married.” 

And they lose it, laughter filling the car at Delamain’s interjection to their stupidity. Its ridiculous and dumb and they sound like children. But, she’s thankful for the moment, the reprieve, where it’s laughter and not nerves tearing at her guts. 

A call notification lights up on V’s optic contacts, T-Bug’s avatar and V answers, the runner’s voice coming just a moment later. 

“Hey. How's things?”

“Eh,” Jackie answers, “been better, been worse.” 

“We’re nearing our destination,” Delamain tells them and V’s throat tightens. 

“Listen, set up a direct, encrypted line to guide you through Konpeki. V, ring Jackie now, see if we're in sync. Can't be too careful.” 

She puts a call through to Jackie, inteface telling her it’s establishing a secure connection.

“And?” Bug asks, expectantly. 

“Got static,” Jackie cringes, “Say somethin', Bug?”

“The greatest crimes issue from a desire for excess and not from necessity."

“Say what now?”

“Yeah, I read you. Not so much your Greek friend, though it was kind of exciting,” Jackie tells her with the ghost of a smile on his lips. 

“Could give it some thought, try to understand…? How 'bout you, V?”

“I want more Aristotle!” 

“Fuck off, both.”

Jackie and V share a giggle at the runner’s expense, V’s going to miss when Bug goes into retirement. If all works out, even on the brighter side, it may be the last time all three of them work together. But at least Bug will be happy and safe, unlike V or Jackie, this was never her dream or end goal. 

“OK, tech checks out, looks like,” T-Bug confirms. 

“Será mejor que sí…”

“Stay in touch”

And V just realizes the taxi has stopped moving, through Jackie’s window she can see the front entrance of the hotel.  The bright red exterior walls, a worker standing at the ready and those nerves are clawing their way back with a vengeance, tearing up her insides and making her want to bolt, terrified that they’lll be found out as soon as they step foot in. They need to get moving, only way to get through the fear is to take control, do what needs to be done. And hopefully avoid puking in the back of an expensive AI taxi. 

“Thank you for choosing the Delamain service. And best of luck. I shall await here for your return.”

“Shit's finally happenin’… “ 

“Its game time, got any iron left on you, time to put it away,” she tells him, tucking her gun and knife into the center compartment. Jackie following suit. V tugs off her suit jacket and rolls her white sleeves to her elbows, making sure her blades are accessible from the start. 

“Alright, Hannah, let’s go.” 

V opens the door of the Delamain, greeted by the view in front of the hotel, in the distance she can see the space travel facility, night settled over the water. The hotel has trees and plants out front, trying to sprinkle some nature into the cement and chrome world of Night City. She carries her suit jacket over her shoulder, keeping one hand busy with it, while the other sits in her pocket. Hoping it will keep her from signing if she needs to talk. 

“Hold on, lemme grab the Flathead.” Jackie pops the trunk of the taxi and pulls out the case with the bot. 

The mercs take the two marble steps up, a vibrant stript of red along the path.There’s long white marble with planters and the name of the hotel inscripted in gold. 

“'Member, reservation's in your name… Ramón. You're there to meet Hajime Taki - military tech department rep. Papers are for the Flathead” T-Bug tells them as they get closer to the double doors. 

“Welcome to Konpeki Plaza,” a man in a red, black, and gold uniform greets them, bowing his head as they pass by.

There’s a large waiting room, white couches along the sides with monitors displaying documentaries and vases with red hologram plants branching out of them. A security gate divides the waiting room from the front desk, scanners to check each guest for weaponry. Beyond it she can see staff with gold plated skin. All non-security personnel of the hotel are gold plated; receptionists, concierge, bartenders, and the like. A requirement for the job, even staff must match the aesthetic. 

“Welcome to Konpeki Plaza. Please come through single file,” The guard tells them as they reach the full body scanner. 

“You got it, holm-- uh, ahem, sir,” Jackie stumbles and V screams internally, watching her friend step forward. Blue light crackles along him, like lightning, then it flashes red. Misty’s warning of mean reds, flaring in V’s mind. 

“Ahem. Hold on got something,” the guard stops Jackie before he can go any further, “Sir, care to explain why you're bringin’ a combat bot onto Konpeki Plaza premises?”

“Arms dealers.” V yells out quickly, hating how forced it sounds, tightening her fingers in her jacket, desperate not to sign on instinct and not realizing she forgot the ‘we’re’ part of her sentence until she finished saying it. 

“Excuse me?”

“Ah!” A gold skinned concierge steps over,  “You are here to see Taki-san, am I right? Please accept my apologies for the confusion.” 

“Pff,” Jackie scoffs as the concierge bows and walks into the lobby, waiting at the front desk. 

V steps into the scanner, guard assuring her it will only take a moment. It distorts her vision, crackling it with blue for just a moment. Then the guard tells her to go ahead and she walks forward, meeting Jackie at the desk. A woman with gold skin, black hair all shaved except for the bangs and sidelocks greets them.  And V is starting to notice that the Arasaka logo is everywhere, the corp hotel owned by them. On the screens, gold emblazoned on marble planters, and on pamphlets. The hotel and Arasaka logo are clearly one in the same. 

“Youkoso. Greetings and welcome to Konpeki Plaza,” she says bowing her head to them and V returns the gesture.

“We’d like to check in,” Jackie says and V sends him a silent thanks for talking. .

“Of course, just a moment, please” the receptionist taps away at a keyboard, “The name on the reservation is…?”

“Victorino.”

“Double room, two adults, one night. Correct?”

“That’s the one,” V tells her, with a tight nod. 

“Perfect… I will go ahead and notify Taki-san of your arrival.”

“Shit, no good, not part of the plan. Talk her up, V, stall!” T-Bug yells out over the call and V is once again wanting to scream. 

“That, uh,  won't be necessary,” she curses herself for stuttering, “We'll go freshen up first, notify him ourselves.”

“But Taki-san is expecting you, no…?”

“Senorita, do you know how long we been traveling? Eighteen hours from New Barcelona. With a delay on Metakey 'cause some cyberpsycho blew himself into bits inside the terminal…”

“Been a nightmare, ugh.” 

“Of course, I understand. You will be in the Lapis Lazuli Suite on level forty-two. Oh, one more little formality… Please validate your SID chip.”

“Honor's all yours, Hannah.” 

A tablet on the table lights up with a bright blue handprint and she’s reminding of her issue getting into her own apartment. Bug said she put a temporary hack on their SID chip, but there’s an extra twinge of anxiety as V lays her hand down on it. She half expects it to show a senior citizen, to be outed as a fraud and tossed out the door. 

“Everything seems to be in order. We wish you a pleasant stay!~” 

“Better get goin'.”

V murmurs a thanks, feeling a bit of relief at having that part of this whole thing done. Playing corpo is somehow more stressful to her than the idea of breaking into Yorinobu’s penthouse. She follows behind Jackie. Large marble planters fill the lobby, some with trees that nearly touch the staggeringly high ceiling. 

“New Barcelona? Really?” T-Bug comments as V follows Jackie up a short set of marble steps. 

“It's called improvisin' - you should try it,” V stares up at a gold framed painting, “Whaddaya think, Hannah"?

“...” V raises an eyebrow at him with a soft noise in her throat. 

“Quaint, cozy. Not like the hotel we had in Zurich for that convention.”

“Don't need that, Jack. Enough.”

“What? I’m takin’ this seriously!” Jackie grumbles when T-Bug scolds him. 

They take two turns through the lobby, guards passing by talking about dolls being left in rough shape as they near what looks to be a bar in the corner. It's an open pathway inside, the bar illuminated in pink and a gold plated woman stands at a podium bearing Arasaka’s logo. There’s a lit collection of alcohol behind the bar, liquor that costs more than V’s rent, which isn’t a hard feat but still rubs her the wrong way. 

“Bar don't look too shabby.”

“We don't do reservations on weekdays, so feel free to grab any available table. Or a couple of stools at the bar if you prefer?” She explains to them, a valley girl accent to her words. 

“Could bring Misty here one day. When we, uh… close this deal.”

“Might take a look around.” 

The idea of sitting down, if only for a moment, and catching her breath after the close call in the lobby sounds nice. Her nerves are frayed already, she’s never wanted to drink so much on a job before. A quick breather before she has a full blown panic attack. 

“Shit,” Jackie curses, “look like some fuckin' travelin' salesman with this case. Go ahead, I’ll go on upstairs.” 

V nods, watching Jackie go to the elevator, a part of her feels guilty, but she doesn’t intend to take too long. And it’s not as if she’s made visiting bars on the job a habit before, she can have this one. She rubs a hand over the back of her neck, feeling the chrome indents of her Mantis Blades cooling the skin. Half of the room is a lounge with black couches and slick pink metallic chairs, terrariums built into the walls. The other half is, gold stools and booths before the neon pink bar. Each side is filled with people mingling, dressed in high fashion, people who’ve gambled away more money than she’s ever seen. 

“And when I say heads're gonna roll, I don't mean it as a fucking turn of phrase,” a half drunk man slurs his speech at the golden bartender. The stench of whiskey clings heavy to his clothes. 

“Had enough guy, don’t you think? You’re making the other customers uncomfortable,” the bartender sends a pointed look towards V, a slight twang in his voice. She was looking for a breather, not conflict. 

“Good! 'Cause this affects them, too! It'll slap everyone in the face!” 

“What’s that?’ She entertains him, figuring it might get the guy gone sooner. 

“You wanna know what a bearer of bad news looks like? What's four hundred yards long, weighs a hundred thousand tons, and is nuclear powered…? The answer's docked in the bay! Hanako Arasaka decided -,” he hiccups, “decided to take a little vacation!

“Big deal.”

“Don't know how big just yet,” her sarcasm doesn’t penetrate the fog of whiskey, “And by the time we do, it'll.. it'll be too late. Screw this. I'm gonna get some sleep…”

With that the man stumbles away, taking the too strong smell of booze with him and the shining bartender turns to her. His shaved hair either red or pink, color distorted in the glowing light. 

“Evenin, what can I get you, baby?” 

Her nose wrinkles at the term of endearment, “little forward, don’t you think?” 

“Suckled it outta my ma's very breast,” he returns, “Fifty percent protein, the other half pure high octane CHOOH2.” 

He presses two gilded hands to the bar leaning forward as he regales his story and she can’t help but raise an eyebrow; he’s implying he’s a nomad, but why would he tell her that? 

“What?” 

“She had wind and dust in her hair, so to speak. Belonged to the Aldecaldos. Before the bombs began fallin'. Her final words? ‘Wherever you go, whatever you do, be yourself, David.’ And so I ended up here. Still no one but myself.” 

He’s full of shit, she decides immediately. Maybe her own distrust or her own frustration, nobody with nomad blood would end up here, gold plated and slinging drinks to corpos. At the very fucking least, they wouldn’t act so damn happy about it. 

“Lovely story if it wasn’t a crock of shit.” 

“Everyone's making something up,” he smirks, “Just like you, baby.”

“Excuse you?” she chokes out, feeling like ice water has been shot through her veins. He’s seen through her, that implication clear, but how? Even regaling to her some fucked up story of being a nomad, like he could smell the dust of the badlands still on her skin. 

“Can I getcha somethin'? At the least, water?” 

“Bourbon and cherry coke.” 

“You got it, baby.” 

The repeated use of the pet name earns him a glare, V tapping her fingers against the bar, his story and perceptiveness making her nerves worse. He sets the drink on the table and she downs it with a gulp, alcohol not quite loosening her how she hopes. She sets the glass down and leaves the bar, it may be petty but she doesn’t leave him a tip, frustrated at the idea he could have seen through her. 

She jabs the elevator button, tapping her foot as she waits and stares at some painting. Its all abstract bullshit, pretty colors, but she’s not sure she sees much else to them. The golden doors open, the back of the elevator windowed with what looks like foliage inside, maybe it’s just a screen. V steps inside and jabs to her level. And after just a short ride, it stops  at her floor. 

The doors open and she sees Jackie, looking over one of the art pieces, walking past a desk and concierge to greet him. 

“About time,” he says, when he spots her, the pair making a beeline to the suite. They walk past a couple speaking Russian, talking about testing on people, as they find the door. 

Jackie opens the door and she gets her first peek of it, stepping in. The furthest wall almost entirely windowed, looking out over the hills. Another expanse dedicated to a terrarium, a large plush bed, white sofas, and a table projecting hologram displays of fish. V tosses her suit jacket off onto the couch. 

“Pretty snazzy. Too bad we ain't stayin' the night. Nice choice, Bug.” 

“Didn't pick it for snazz. Offers quickest access to the dweller and servers.”

“Sí, sí, me acuerdo,” jackie grumbles as he puts the Flathead case down on a table in front of the terrarium. The little spider bot springs to life the second it’s case is opened. 

“Now you fire up the Flathead and find the shaft entrance.” 

“Sounds simple enough…” 

“Simplicity's sometimes toughest to master,” T-Bug tells her. 

“Aurelius? Aristotle? Who's it this time?”

“Yours truly, that one's mine.”

“Go ahead and find the shaft, chica, I’ll get the Flathead running.” 

V nods and begins looking around the room, scanning around, finding the shaft after a short moment. A little square panel standing out on the wall next to the terrarium, scanner telling her it’s Flathead compatible. 

“Found it.” 

“Good. Jackie, how's the Flathead lookin'?” T-Bug asks, he’s put the control shard in one of his neuroports while V was looking for the shaft, eyes now glowing bright white blue. 

“All set. Systems’re operational, charge at a hundred…,” a moment passes his expression furrowing as he shakes his head, “Mierda.  Little gonk's stuck.”

“Just gonna stand there and look at it? Gonna have to switch to manual control. V, take the control shard from Jackie. Gonna link your Kiroshis to surveillance so you can guide the bot.”

“Why me, Jack’s got full blown optics?”  She asks, as he pulls the control shard from his head. 

“Yeah, but you got better tech, unlike someone I ain’t run up my tab with Vik. Got last-gen firmware low flow. May be contacts, but you’re working with top notch Kiroshi tech.” 

“Plus someone already has some playtime with the bot,” T-Bug outs her and Jackie raises an eyebrow at V, a teasing smile on his lips. 

“You played with the bot?”

“Just… give me the shard,” she takes it from Jackie’s hand, “Surveillance cover the whole hotel?”

“Mhm. Even the bedrooms in the suites.”

“Seriously?” 

“You'd be surprised what people're willin' to give up to feel secure. Lucky for us, Yorinobu's an exception. Penthouse is dark, no hotel security.’

“Okay, here goes.” V pushes the control shard into the slot, the interface says it’s connecting her, then it glitches and in a moment she’s looking at herself and Jackie through the surveillance camera. 

“Patching you through to in-cam view. Might get a little disoriented, but don't freak”

Her vision switches between rooms; a man getting a lap dance from a doll in a dimly room, two men in another hotel room. And then it lands on a third room. A meeting of four people; two Arasaka suits and two faces she vaguely recognizes. The view doesn't shift again and she takes the chance to look closer, talks of losing control of Watson, election season. And it clicks, the mayor of Night City. 

“Camera’s set,” V tells Bug, political bullshit isn’t her business, she can see the vague outline of the Flathead creeping into the room.  Only slightly visible to her thanks to her connection, 

“Get him to the next vent.”

V scans and finds the next vent shaft tucked in the corner of the room, sending the Flathead to it. She watches as it crawls and creeps through the room. 

“C’mon little buddy, you got it, yes,” She cheers on the little machine as it skitters across the camera and into the vent. 

“It’s a Military grade combat bot, not your pet, V. Patching you into the next cam now.” 

The next room appears, more brightly lit with two maids working to clean it. V goes to send the Flathead into the vent but the request is denied, detecting one of the cleaning ladies is too far into it’s path. 

“Cleaning crew’s in the way,” V tells Bug, listening to one of the women start drooling over Yorinobu. 

“Gotta distract her. Hmm, let's see what's on the subnet…temp control on the terrarium, sic the bot on it.” 

V follows the runner’s orders scanning and sending the Flathead onto the temp control. Barely a moment passes before the maid’s notice, freaking out about how expensive it is. The merc takes her chance and sends the bot into the unblocked vent shaft. 

“Little guy’s through.”

Next cam flickers into a green tinted maintenance hallway, the bots legs tinkering across the floor. Vent on the other side of the room, V sends it through, smiling as her little buddy makes his way through. And it brings her to a new camera, it looks like where the surveillance feeds lead to. A console and row of screens with a security guard watching them. 

“Dweller's just beyond the door. Flathead can jimmy the lock.”

V sends the command, watching it scamper to the door, tendrils working at the lock. But nothing gives away. 

“He’s having some trouble, poor feller.” 

“Shit… Gotta be another way. Lemme think… Got another cam other side of the door, but it's disabled.’

“Got a CCTV port, might be able to enable it.” 

“Go for it.” 

The Flathead creeps across the room and jacks into the port, giving V access to the other camera. And V switches her vision to it, the next room looks like a high tech runner’s nest. Two netrunning chairs in deep cooled divots within the room. But only one is in use, a man jacked into the security frame, illuminated in blue, screens running code around him. 

“Dweller’s inside.”

“Just as planned.”

“Still don’t get why they only have the one.” 

“Decent dweller's as good as a dozen rank-and-file. Lemme graft a demonoid onto your link, you’ll be able to jack the bot directly into the chair and neutralize the runner.” 

“Got’cha” 

“You'll have to get the Flathead in there first, though.” 

“Got another shaft grate,” V finds when she twists the camera’s view, there had to be a vent in the other room, servers lining the walls. Bad ventilation and the entire operation overheats. 

“Shaft may link both rooms, looks like. Toggle to the other cam.” 

V does so, a moment of scanning and she finds a hidden shaft grate in the floor, “Think I got it.”

“Send the Flathead over there, then toggle over to the second cam.”

She waits until the bot is prying open the vent in the surveillance room, then flickers back over to the runner’s den, eyes on the vent and hoping she didn’t send their tech into the wrong room. A moment passes and she sees her robotic friend creeping his way out. 

“Our friend’s inside.” 

“Flathead into the chair, V, jack in.” 

The bot crawls across the floor and into the netrunner’s cubby, creeping up the chair and scuttling over the man’s body. Deep in the subnet the man doesn’t stir or even notice as the bot hovers over his face and jacks into the chair. And the code across the screen glitches, replaced by a T. 

“Holy shit.” 

“Whoop! Got him! Love those daemons!” Bug cheers, louder and more excited than V has ever heard her. They did it, the bot is in, T-Bug has access to it all. 

“Uh, Flathead buddy stays, right?” 

“To keep an eye on the dweller, yeah. Punching into Konpeki’s main net. Go ahead and log out.” 

The young merc’s vision starts to glitch and flicker red, her pulling the shard from her head, everything spinning. Lightheaded and her body feels both too light and too heavy. Like she could collapse and float away all at once. 

“That's how it's done! How ya feelin'?” Jackie asks, concern lacing his voice. 

“Like I’m about to puke on a rug worth more than my car.” 

“Bug? How're you doin' on time?” The runner doesn’t respond right away, a moment too long passing. 

“Bug?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I'm here. Soooo listen, ICE is thicker than I thought. Piercing it'll take a couple hours.” 

“A couple hours?! Can't do it any faster?”

“Want my brain to burst into flames? Just siddown and enjoy your snazzy suite.”

“Thanks, I will! V, you take it easy, c’mon rest for a bit.” 

V doesn’t need anymore prodding, settling down onto the white sofa, hoping her head will stop spinning and stomach cease churning by the time Bug is done. The merc kicks off her heels and lays across the sofa, softer than her bed. Jackie sitting across on the other side of the table, V brings her hand up to her face, trying to block out the blue light from the holo projector. But catches herself looking at the bracelet Misty gave her, the way the beads catch the light, remembering the name of it. 

“Hey, what was our suite’s name again?” 

“Lapis lazuli, why?” 

“Isn’t that what Misty’s bracelets are? The blue beads with the gold.” 

“Oh...yeah, ain’t that some shit, must be a good sign.” 

“Maybe… she read your cards before this?” 

“Nah, didn’t get a chance, nagged me about mean reds though. What about you, cards in your favor?” 

“All I remember is something about a magician and love, blegh.” 

“Hehehe,” his laughter is warm and fills the huge room, “telling you, one day you’re gonna be head over heels with some chiccy or mano and you’re not gonna know what to do with yourself.” 

“That how it was with you and Misty?” 

“Pssh, knew I was crazy about her from day one, took a while to work up the nerve though one day I just told her the truth.” 

“That you were in loooove~.”

“More like I’d take a bullet for her, chica.”

“Romantic.” 

“Fuck yeah it is, in Night City, that’s worth a billion I love yous.” 

“So you say.” 

“Keep doing that and you’re gonna rub the finish off Vik’s work,” Jackie tells her and she realizes she’s been rubbing and fiddling with her implants, “be a waste for free work to be ruined.” 

“I’m gonna pay him.” 

“You give him anything upfront, even a dime?” 

“I… gave him a hug…” 

“Wow,” Jackie says half laughing and she’s laughing too, “a whole hug for top of the line chrome! Probably wasn’t even a real hug, just your half ass shit!” 

“I may have only used one arm.” 

“Santa mierda, V, gotta learn to hug people like you mean it.” 

“Yes, yes,” she yawns, “blah blah blah, never know which hug will be the last one, blah….” 

“Flathead wear you out that bad?” 

“Maybe a little…” Her stomach feels better, but her head is still light, fuzzy. And in the plush of the sofa, with Jackie close by, she finds herself drifting away. Eyelids getting heavier with each word, each lull of his voice. She didn’t drink much, but she’s sure the bourbon didn’t help. 

“Gonna be a while, might as well catch a cat nap, chica. Though Bug might not like it, haven’t quite managed to get the stick out of her ass.”  

“Yeah..maybe…” 

The world fades away, a soft fuzzy sleep taking over. Time ticks by around her as she catches a moment, or maybe several, to sleep. Her brain is still a little foggy, but the dizziness is gone by the time she slowly starts to wake back up. A bad case of cottonmouth as she wakes, world filtering back in. 

Her suit jacket is tossed over her, a makeshift blanket she didn’t put there, she rolls over to sit, more stable than she was before. The time on the terrarium panel tells her only an hour or two has passed.  Jackie’s back is too her, his eyes staring at the window. And she finds herself staring, standing in a suit and basked in the lights of the city view, he’s never seemed so serious. 

“Whaddaya think? Why'd he give it all up?” He asks after a moment and she blinks, brain still foggy. 

“Who?” 

"Yorinobu Arasaka. The good life, I mean. Old news, I know. Just got to thinkin's all. It's like, think… You got everything, right? Eddies, education. Your pops can snap his fingers and turn half the fuckin’ planet into a nuclear wasteland… But instead you're like, ‘Nah, fuck it,’ and whaddaya go do? Start a fuckin' gang! Steel Dragons or some shit! You ghost from your fam, chip some RealSkinn and play gang leader for a few years. For what?!” 

She can sense the frustration in every word, feel it every clench of his fingers or swing of his hands. Someone like Yorinobu was handed everything he could ever want; tried to piss it away to play edgerunner, then found himself sucking the silver spoon once again.  But, she can’t blame him for wanting out from under his father’s thumb; that alone a feeling she knows too well. Her fingers hover over her wrist, the still branded flesh that Vik saved. 

“Maybe...he just wanted out of the system.” 

“So then why’d he come back.” 

“Tough to ditch the system when the system’s your own family,” V admits, finger still on the mark. 

“Black sheep’s still a sheep, eh?” 

“Maybe…” 

It took her forever to get the nerve to leave, she talked about it constantly, but it wasn’t until her mother’s death, murder, culling. Whatever she’s meant to call it, that she finally was pushed to make that move. Been gone for years now, but… more days than she cares to admit were spent wondering if she ever should have run, if she should crawl back and beg. If a family that hates her is better than no family at all… 

“Crawled back on all fours, tail between his legs, fuckin’ cheap ass rebel. Fuckin’ tourist!” 

Her nails dig into her skin; insecurities brimming, fear that maybe she’s just as much a fuckin’ tourist. Some black sheep nomad who’ll go running back to her dad, beg for another chance, playing pretend merc when all she’ll ever be is the family burden. 

“Tourist or not, he just walked into the lobby. And we are back in biz. Penthouse security is neutralized.”

“Perfecto, let’s start this show.”

And with those words, they’re back in business, the younger merc up on her feet. V grabbing her jacket and following Jackie out of the suite, fiddling with the fabric as she walks, heels clicking across the floor. 

“Hey, Bug…” Jackie says after a beat of silence,  “were, uh… were you on comms that whole time?”

“Three and a half hours.”

“Eehh… about that stick up the ass…”

“Mean the one up mine?”

“Ehh, slip of the tongue, y'know…”

“I know. Now's your chance to make up to me,” T-Bug tells him as they reach the elevator, Jackie pressing the button. 

“This is going pretty smooth right,” he turns to V as they wait, “right?” 

“Really are a silver lining type, ain’t ya?” V teases as the doors open and they step into the elevator. 

“Hey, when are you gonna wave off that dark cloud hanging over your head? Tellin’ you, it’s downhill from on in.” 

She rolls her eyes and hits the button to the penthouse, elevator doors closing and the carriage rumbling, shaking as it ascends. Silence falling over them, only the sound of the elevator. Jackie’s leg shakes and she knows that silence is about to end. 

“Ahh, there's the awkward silence. You, uh, wanna hear a joke?”

“Now? Seriously?”

“OK, so why'd the rockerboy's output kick him out of the apartment? ‘Cause he wasn't chippin' in.” Jackie cackles at his own joke and V rolls her eyes, a slight smile on her lips. 

“Jesus Christ…” 

Bug sounds a moment away from killing him, but thankfully for the older merc’s sake, the elevator comes to a stop. Doors opening up to Yorinobu’s suite. It feel different, seeing it from her own perspective instead of Evelyn’s and outside of a braindance editor. The entire suit feels bigger. A part of her wonders if it’s the height difference between herself and Evelyn, but decides to chalk it up to braindance shit instead. 

“Huh… not bad bein' heir to the Arasaka empire. Sure as shit better'n bein' the son of Raúl Welles,” Jackie comments taking in the room. 

V turns the corner through the room and a tank catches her eye. A slightly red light illuminating an iguana. It immediately reminds her of the only other iguana she knows, Manny. Come to think of it, his original crate was from Arasaka? 

“Hey, Jackie, look!” 

“Whoa, another fuckin’ iguana, not as cute as Manny though.” 

“Manny’s original crate was marked Arasaka; think he might’ve been Yorinobu’s before we klepped him?” 

“Think we stole his iguana and made him get a new one?” 

“Maybe?”  She gently taps the tank glass, watching the iguana’s tail flick back and forth. 

“Guys! Focus! The safe! And make it quick!” Bug yells out, bringing the merc’s back down to earth. V tosses her jacket onto one of the seats in the center, searching around the penthouse. Rain patters outside the windowed walls. They know where the safe is, but how do they get it out of the floor?

“Why, what's the rush?”

“Sig on Yorinobu's gone dark!”

“What is he, a fuckin' sorcerer?”

“Some kinda dead zone's my guess - have him back in a sec. And you do your damn job! Look around for a switch.”

V walks around one of the dividers where Yorinobu’s bed is, the slick metal of a gun catching her eye first and foremost. Black and gray, with purple detailing. She checks it for ammo and finds it loaded then decides it’s hers. 

“Looks like Yori left us a little gift,” she laughs, tucking the iron in her waistband. And on the other side of the bed, she finds a little switch. She presses it. 

“Bingo, got somethin' ejectin’! C'mere, V!” Jackie calls her over to the corner of the room, heart pounding in her chest.

They’re so close to the finish line, each click of her heels feeling like a step closer. This could actually work. A large black safe has risen out of the floor, a small jack in port and two red lights. Jackie stands on one side of it, the gray rainy day behind him. 

“What now, Bug?” 

“Jack in your personal and make us rich.” 

V plugs her personal link in, leaning one hand against the safe. Jackie leans against it from the other side, foreheads nearly touch as they wait for Bug to work her magic. Just get the chip and walk out, that’s all that’s left. All they need to do. She can’t stand still, itching to cross the finish line, minutes away from the major leagues. 

“Gimme two…”

The merc’s interface shows Bug uploading the daemons to crack the case and V watches the number rise. Sixty percent, seventy, seventy-five; each ticking number another shaky breath, a rising beat of her heart, and a chill up her spine. Homestretch, nearly there. 

And there’s a hum, V’s focus drawn away from the rising percentage, to the windows. Flying AV whirring through the gray skies, hovering around. She looks to Jackie, hoping somehow he’ll have an explanation, something to help her ignore the way her stomach is starting to drop. 

“We got winged visitors… Bug…?” There’s catch in his voice, nerves. Jackie’s scared and she swallows the lump in her throat. His face illuminated in the red flashing lights of the case, mean reds, the words flash in V’s mind. 

“Dunno who. But staffs abuzz, all two hundred on their feet, can't keep still…” 

Somethings wrong, the hair on the back of her neck stands up, a chill in her she can’t shake. Something is so fucking wrong. 

“Can't say I like this, how much longer, T?!”

“Shit. Yorinobu's penthouse bound!”

“What!?”V’s voice cracks, digging her nails into the safe, they’re fucked. They’re so fucked. 

“Fuck him!” Jackie slams his hand down, rattling the container, “Open the safe!” 

“Almost got it… Done!”  The safe opens, revealing a cryo-container within. Bright white light and a fog of ice cold air coming with it. V rips her personal jack out. 

“Preem, lets get the fuck out of here!”  

“Lemme look to this, eh?” Jackie says, pulling the container out and looking at the little screens across it. 

“Relic intact?” 

"Bioshard integrity - one hundred percent." Guessin' that's a yes,” Jackie reads off the vitals of the shard, picking up the case. 

“Good,  let’s delta.” 

The pair nearly trip through the center of the penthouse, rushing towards the elevator with Jackie lugging behind the giant cryo-container. So close, so close, so fucking close. An elevator and taxi ride away, then they’ll be at The Afterlife counting their eddies. The homestretch. 

“Fuck, too late!” T-Bug yells before V can hit the elevator button, “Yorinobu's about to walk in - find cover!

“Where in the fuck!?” V swings her hands as she yells, they’re so fucking close. She rakes her nails across her face, leaving red angry marks down her skin. 

“That pillar- try that!” 

“You fuckin' kiddin'?!” Jackie screams as the mercs make a move to the pillar in the center of the penthouse, were she thought servers for the room were kept. The back of it opening up and allowing a tight passageway. 

“No! Inside it! Now!” 

V slips inside as quickly as she can, Jackie following suit. He holds the cry-container close to his chest. The glass barrier is one way, they can see out, but it can’t be seen in. Still not ideal cover, ideally they’d be outside of the fucking hotel by now. The merc presses her hands to the glass, cursing under her breath. 

“We’re in,” she whispers to Bug.

“Which don't solve our problem, T.”

“I fuckin' know our problem's still there! Lemme think for a sec, okay?” 

The lights to the penthouse come on, elevator doors opening as Yorinobu strides in. with mechanical monstrosity of a body guard from the BD taking large whirring steps after him. And he seems even bigger now. He’s a cyber giant, one mech hand larger than  any part of V. 

He’s outlined in red, his eyes staring straight at her,  Vik said her new contacts would highlight if enemies saw her.. No, there’s no possible way. The man has barely set a borged-out foot into the room. She meets his gaze head on, swallowing the lump in her throat as she tries to seem braver than she is. On the off chance he may truly know the mercs are there. 

“Is that… Is that Adam Smasher?” Jackie whispers and V trusts him to look at her hands  as she signs, not wanting to break eye contact with the robotic monstrosity, refusing to show weakness.

“Bodyguard?” 

“Worse,” her trust in her friend is well placed, “Night City legend. Bleak motherfuckin' one, too. What's the plan?”

“We stay quiet and we wait.” 

A flash of movement makes V finally break the stare down, Yorinobu walks to the middle of the room and stops at the seat across from the table, black fabric strewn across it. He picks it up, regarding it for a moment and her heart drops into her stomach. 

V’s jacket. She left her fucking jacket on his chair, like an idiot, she didn’t even have time to consider grabbing it. They’re going to die because she left her fucking jacket out in the open and Adam Smasher is still staring at her. 

She half expects Yorinobu to call a sweep of the room, ring security, that he’ll realize the random jacket must be an intruder. But he shakes his head, tosses it aside onto the floor, not giving it another thought. While his body guard Smasher lingers in the corner, robotic eyes staring straight at V, watching the mercs squirm. 

“Are they here yet?” Yorinobu asks out loud. 

“They approach from the landing pad,” an AI voice responds. 

“Fuck are they talking about?” V resists the urge to elbow Jackie, silence has never been more important. One sound too loud and a borged out psycho will rip their heads off. And if her contacts are right, Smasher may just be waiting for the perfect opportunity. 

“Nuh-uh, no fucking way…. This isn't happening…!” T-Bug whispers over comms and V sees someone coming down the spiraling stairs, a guard it seems, with another older man following him, “Saburo Arasaka.” 

The second man is older, much older than the first. Balding with gray hairs and liver spots across his scalp, glasses perched high upon his nose. Dressed in a mixture of yukata robes over what seems to be slacks and loafers he takes slow measured steps down the stairs. The head capitalist himself, owner of Arasaka. 

“The emperor? Yet another asslickin' legend….” 

V taps Jackie’s side and puts her finger to her lips, encouraging him to be quiet. The man who led Saburo in starts to walk around the room. He’s older than V or Jackie, but nowhere near Saburo’s age. Long graying dark hair pulled back in a bun, cyberware across his neck coming out from under his black suit. 

“I thought I told you not to meddle in my affairs,” Yorinobu speaks in his native tongue, V’s contacts translating and subtitling to English. 

“Oh fuck,” Jackie curses as the long haired guard comes to stand in front of them, silver ringed brown eyes starting to scan them. 

“Leave us,” Saburo orders and the guard stops scanning, turning to face the corporate leader. 

“Arasaka-sama, I still haven't done a full sweep.” The guard turns his back and V can see where part of his hair is shaved, allowing intense cyberware extending beyond his neck and towards his scalp. 

“This is my son.”

“Of course. Should I retrieve what we come here to-” 

“I will handle it. You may go.”

The long haired guard bows and goes to leave the room, finally Adam Smasher’s gaze on her drops, as the borged freak leaves with the guard through the elevator doors. If they’re here to retrieve something… it’s likely the biochip, which means if they go to get it and see it’s gone… They’re fucked. They’re straight fucked. 

“Un-fucking-believable… Saburo Arasaka.” That comment makes V nudge Jackie with her foot, once again begging him to just stay quiet. 

“Did you think I wouldn't know it was taken from me?” Saburo asks his son, barely making eye contact as Yorinobu looks through a datapad. 

“Actually, I don't think of you at all. Ever. You see, that's your problem. You think the world revolves around you. Arrogant.” 

“Yorinobu.” 

“Why did you come? To humiliate me? To personally see to it that your son knows his place?”

“"The nail that protrudes from the wall gets hammered…"

“Couldn't think of anything original to say?” Yorinobu yells in exasperation, standing up and pacing around the room.  He’s on edge, looking ready to jump out of his skin and V can’t say she has a good feeling about any of this. 

“And do you think it ‘original’ to sell our greatest achievement to Westerners - our future to these… barbarians?!”

It’s definitely the biochip Saburo is after, they’re screwed, monumentally screwed. V would laugh if she didn’t feel like dying, of course, of course it all goes to shit. 

“Our future? Ours?! You are mistaken. You've only ever cared about yourself… and your sick schemes.” Yorinobu points and swings his limbs, still pacing, every word coiled tight with barely restrained hatred. 

“I knew this day would come. That sooner or later your impudence would cross the line,” Saburo is calmer, measured, taking soft steps towards his son, “There is much for which I could forgive you, but for treason - no.” 

The two men, father and son now stand in front of the pillar before an audience they don’t know. Stares trained on each other, each hateful, but one furious in it’s spite and the other calm in it’s contempt. Moments pass, no word said, each waiting for the other to light a fuse that will set off the powder keg. 

“I'm just glad your mother didn't live to see this. The heart should break but once.” 

And it goes off. Saburo’s words are punctuated by Yorinobu’s hands wrapping tightly around the old man’s throat. Yorinobu slams his father back against the pillar, cracking the glass in front of Jackie and busting open Saburo’s head. Blood streaking the shards. And he pulls away and for a moment, as Saburo clutches at his crushed windpipe, Yorinobu seems nearly regretful. 

“You shall never have to forgive me for anything again.” 

His hands wrap again, choking his father against the pillar. Until Saburo starts to fall limp, Yorinobu bringing him down onto the floor in a lifeless heap. Yorinobu stands over his father. Saburo is dead, killed before the merc’s very eyes at the hands of his own son. Jackie curses and V watches as Yorinobu paces, mind clearly racing before he stands over his father’s corpse again. 

“I wish… I wish to put the hotel on lockdown.” 

What does that mean? What the hell does that mean?

“May I ask why?” The AI secretary asks him. 

“Saburo Arasaka has been murdered.”

“Code red initiated. Attention! Code Red has been initiated throughout Konpeki Plaza. Please remain in your rooms and follow all instructions given by staff.”

Oh no, oh fuck no. The lights in the room drop, only bright neon red ones glowing angry in the dark. What the hell is going to happen? What the fuck do they do now? The elevator doors open, Smasher and the long haired guard walking in; the latter rushes and comes to a full stop when he sees Saburo’s corpse. 

“What happened?”

“Someone… someone poisoned my father.”

“Poisoned…?” 

“Seems so.” 

“Yorinobu-san… I doubt…”

Yorinobu glowers at the guard, pushing into his personal space, trying to intimdate him. Trying to make him stop questioning what happened, trying to stop him from looking any closer. Anyone who gets a good look at Saburo’s corpse will see the fingerprints around his neck. 

“What is your job, Takemura?”

“I don't follow.”

“It's a simple question. Answer it.”

“To protect the head of the Arasaka family.”

“I do sincerely hope you'll do a better job of executing your duties from now on…”

“Forgive me, Arasaka-sama,” the guard drops his head in shame, “I shall not disappoint.” 

Yorinobu turns to leave the suite. The guard, Takemura, follows close behind. And the still red highlighted Smasher follows behind him. The elevator doors close behind them. Jackie and V left alone in the suite again. But what the fuck just happened? 

“What the fuck just happened in there?” T-Bug asks, exactly what’s rattling around V’s skull as the pillar back opens again. Jackie and V clambering out. 

“Yorinobu just killed Saburo, he fucking choked out his own dad, I didn’t even know you could do that!” V rambles and yells as she turns the corner of the pillar, looking down at Saburo’s corpse. She quickly checks his pockets, stealing some cash and a pair of dog tags off of him. 

“What?” 

“His own fuckin’ pops.” 

“Know what this means?l Security's gonna swarm the place any second. Oh my god, we're so fucked!”

“We need to get the fuck out of here, now!” They can’t just go out the elevator, they’d meet security on the way. They’re beyond fucked. Why the hell did they take this stupid fucking job!?

“Gimme a sec!”

There’s the helipad, but it’s not like they have anything that fucking flies. Think, think, think; she screams in her head to just fucking think, there has to be something, anything. 

“We don't have a sec!”

“Okay, got somethin'! Window - now! Releasing the lock! Should see a ladder… Ladder…” 

V sees an opening in the large windowed walls, double doors practically made of glass they goes onto the ledge. This has to be in, T-Bug can undo the lock and they’ll slip out. 

“Oh fuck.” T-Bugs voice drops and a chill shoots up V’s back, something is wrong. 

“Bug!?” 

“No, no, no, no - not now…! I’ve been made… “ 

And panic turns to agony as T-Bug screams, a shrill cry of pain then she’s gone. Connectuon cut and V freezes in place. 

Bug is gone, just gone… 

Maybe, Konpeki just cut their comms? But the scream rings through V’s mind. She’s heard of how runner’s can die, daemons and quick hacks. Having their entire brain fried, every nerve and neuron set on fire, burned from the inside out... And all that's left to find is a simmering corpse stewing in their own filth. Bug was never meant for that, meant to retire, meant to find peace after years of netrunning. But now… 

“Bug.!? Bug!? Can you fuckin’ hear me, Bug please, are you there!?” V calls out, words slurring together. She just needs to hear Bug one more time, and know everything is okay. 

And nothing. 

“¡Pinche Dios Santo bendito! We lost her, V!” 

“They...scorched her...didn’t they…?” 

“We… we gotta go, V,” Jackie says, voice cracking as he smacks at V’s shoulder. 

Bug’s final hack going through, the window unlocked. V steps out through the window onto the ledge, rain pelting her skin as she rushes around the corner. Bug said there’s a ladder they can use, last thing Bug ever said… There’s no time for mourning, no time to cry, they need to get through this. The ledge narrows around the corner, ride lights outside the hotel window guiding the way, secured against the steel of the hotel. V sees the yellow safety ladder. The merc presses her back to the building, gently side stepping across the narrow ledge, if they just reach the ladder. One wrong step and they’ll plummet. 

“You can do it, Jackie… just don't look down,” jackie tries to talk himself up, following V, “ Yep, that's fuckin' high…!”

There’s a whir of engines, an aircraft vehicle buzzing around the outside of the hotel.

“Shit! That Trauma?” Jackie asks and that’s exactly what they need right now, doctors shooting them. 

“If they’re here for Saburo, they’re a little late.” 

“Just hope they didn't see us! ¡Chingada madre!”

The aircraft carrier flies in close, flashing blinding white light onto the mercs. It sees them, definitely sees them. 

“Suspects in violation of security protocols.” The mechanical voice croaks out. 

“Time to bail!’ Jackie screams and the aircraft starts to fire, drone automated shooting at them. 

The glass around them bursts and V jumps, grabbing Jackie’s hand in her left, she swings her right blade out towards the ladder. It hooks in the bottom rung, creaking in distress as it stops their fall. And there the mercs hang, suspended by a single Mantis Blade and a ladder rung; rain pouring down upon them and a drone still searching for them through the debris. The strain pulls at V’s arm, pain shooting throughout, shoulders ache and left arm pulled tight trying to hold Jackie and the case he holds in his other hand. 

If she could pull them up with the blade, maybe they can get to safety. But her muscles already strain, wrought tight with the strength it takes to hold them up. The blade pulling at the inner tissue it’s attached too, never meant to support more weight than the person it’s attached to. Rain and tears sting her eyes as she forces herself to pull with the blade, use it to lift them up. 

“V! I can’t hold on!’ Jackie yells out, rain slick hand starting to slip from her own. She digs her nails into his skin, holding him tighter. 

“Just a bit more, I can do this!” 

Her throat is raw and she doesn’t know how much she believes her own words. Nerves scream in pain as her cyberware pulls at what’s left of her flesh. Muscles cry as forced beyond their capability. She curses beneath her breath, pulling them just a little further up. Immeasurable pain and brute force of will only amounting to the tiniest bit of progress, not even an inch closer to safety. Her blade is pulling further out from her skin, raising up from her arm in a way she knows it shouldn’t. 

Every nerve in her arms on fire; blade tugging at flesh and the other nearly pulled from socket under Jackie’s weight. Barely an inch closer to the safety, Jackie slipping from her grip quicker than she can pull, blade lifting from her arm quicker than she can move them. Her teeth sinks into the inside of her cheek, hard enough to bleed as she pushes herself further. Closer, closer, she urges herself. 

A bright white light shines across them, illuminating them in the gray night, adding another ache to her eyes. Drone marked Arasaka buzzing around, refinding them within the debris of the destroyed hotel wall. The robotic voice speaking again. 

“Violators found.” 

And her blade breaks, V’s eye blown wide as they begin to plummet, shock blurs her pain and deafens the world.  Slowing it for a moment, only able to stare as metal snaps, tissue tears, and her arm is ripped open. Cyberware tearing out tissue and nerves, viscera left behind. 

Then she hits glass, shattering it as gravity slams her through and shock becomes hurt. She hits metal, body bouncing from impact, crying as the air is knocked from her lungs. Her head bashing against something. V clutches her arm, the pain it hitting her as everything else does, blood sticking to her fingers. Each breath hurts, a labored wheeze as bruised lungs strain to work. 

V blinks, sitting up slightly, regaining her sense of self now that her fall is broken. Across from her is Jackie and the cryo-case. She looks at her arm, A solid rip from wrist to near elbow, nearly an open hole, metal and moving inner parts of the cyberware mixed with gore. It doesn’t bleed as much as she'd expect, the internal mechanics helping block major bleed out. It hurts, metal now working against raw nerves. But, she’ll live… if this is the worst that happens, she’ll live.

The cryo-case is dented, part of it sparking and part of it splatted with blood. But her eye is drawn to Jackie. A tear in his gut, shrapnel and glass caught him well, bleeding more than her. The white of the button up around his stomach turned scarlet. 

“The Relic! ¡Madres! Agh… Oh, this ain't good. Agh…” Jackie curses, each breath pained. 

“Jackie, you’re hurt!” 

“Worry about me later,” he growls, “check the relic… "Container depressurized. Biochip integrity at ninety-four percent." And fuckin' droppin'! Carajo! Parker! Call her!”

“And tell her what!? We fucked up!?” 

“Just do it!”

Evelyn answers after a short ring, her avatar coming across V’s contacts. 

“V?! Konpeki's all over the feeds! What the fuck's going on there?”

“Got a problem! Cryo-case is damaged. Biochip's integrity at… Jackie?”

“Eighty-six percent!”

“Eighty-six percent and droppin'!”

“Shit…! OK, listen to me. There's only one thing you can do. One of you's gotta slot the Relic into your neural port!”

“That sounds really dangerous!” 

God only knows how this biochip could fuck them up, the relic itself is like putting another personality in your head, seeing ghosts. If this one is even half as fucked up as that, they could be putting themselves in serious danger. 

“The longer you wait, the greater the risk we lose it!” 

“Well, someone’s got to do it,” Jackie says, voice a rasp, face steadily draining color as he opens the case, “In the name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit - Amen.”

Jackie crosses his body with the pray and pushes the chip into his neural port and V watches his eyes light up for a moment. And he’s quiet for another, a second too long.

“You okay?” 

“Dunno… I guess… Don't feel any different.”

“Once you're back, we'll take out the Relic and run a full brain scan and sweep. But you two need to get the fuck out of there first!”

“We’re working on it!” 

Jackie and V get back on their feet. He holds his hand to his stomach, trying to press his guts together and she keeps her arm held close to her chest, not putting pressure on it. Jackie calls Delamain. 

“Del, we'll be there in a couple. Be ready, got it?”

“Certainly, Mr. Welles.”

“Better be fuckin' certain.”

“We gotta somehow… reach the lobby. Only chance to hit the garage. And we'd best be quick,” Jackie jabs himself with an air hypo, “ Oh-ho, that's the shit… Great… Now let's get outta here.”

“Wait, take your jacket off, use it to keep pressure on your gut, okay? Should help with the bleeding.” 

It’s minimal first aid knowledge, she knows. Hold something to a wound to keep it from bleeding out as quickly. But it’s all she can offer, helping Jackie get the jacket off with one hand, so he can press it to his stomach wound. She can move her right hand somewhat, but it hurts and she swears she can see the tendons moving around the metal in the gaping wound her forearm has become. She catches herself wondering if she’ll be able to sign with her right hand again. But, there’s no time for those fears. 

She walks down the red lit metal grate, heels nearly catching in it as she turns to a doorway. V leads the way, less injured than Jackie, she pushes the door open. A door lobby with glass banisters and plants, the only light the bright red ones. 

“Great… Now let's get outta here,” Jackie says, each word a stressful choking sound to get out. 

An AI voice speaks repeatedly over the speakers that Konpeki plaza is in code red, as the mercs work to move quickly and quietly. Catching the murmuring of two guards as they reach a marble staircase, speaking of sweeping the floors and checking the lobby. They creep around the corner and past a desk, seeing the back of the men’s through the glass banister. The only sound the pounding of V’s heart and Jackie’s labored breathing. They watch as the two men separate, enough space for each to grab one. 

They move down the last stretch of the stairs, guards talking about evacuating Yorinobu. She lets Jackie take the one closest to them as she moves further to the one at the doorway. V swings her left blade, now her only one, through the man’s gut. Her right arm shoots pain through each nerve, metal inside churching to dispense a blade that no longer exists. She holds back a sound, Jackie’s already choked out the other guard, checking for pockets. Each one armed with a silenced gun. She steals ammo off of them.

They come to another door, each catching their breath. Sweat clinging to V’s brow as they brace themselves for what’s to come next. 

“Careful… security likely to be swarmin' outside,” Jackie warns and V nods, words clumping together in her throat as she opens the door. 

They stay crouched, spotting more guards as they go. The pair hide behind a planter, V taking a scan of the area, spotting a security camera. Remembering Bug’s lessons, she’s quickly able to shut them off. She’s the one to step back out, leading the way for the first time in months of working together. V needs to get Jackie through this, he’s holding on now, but.. 

She grabs a guard from behind and snaps their neck, arm twinging in agony at the movement she throws their body aside, clearing a long stretch of hallway for Jackie to follow her down. All light bright red and screens that once showed commercials now flash the words, Code Red. She leaves Jackie to stay hidden behind a counter when she sees another by the doorway, jumping at his back and dropping him just like his coworker.  

“Ain't doin' too bad… Just a little further…” Jackie whispers as she drops another guy, her arm screaming at her to stop. But she’ll survive without an arm, if worse comes to worse, she can’t let Jackie get hurt any worse. 

They creep through a door, past a desk, hearing a guard yelling out as they sneak and weave through the room. She watches over the top of a planter as the guard walks past them, none the wiser as V creeps around, getting behind him, and taking him down. She can’t risk leaving any behind, leaving one alive and them finding the mercs later. The hotel is huge, a labyrinth of Arasaka guards. 

“Engaging hostiles!” A voice booms out, the mercs spotted by a heavily armed Arasaka guard who nearly trips over V.

Fuck, fuck, so much for stealth. Jackie shoots over a counter, trying to stay somewhat protected from the gunfire, while V takes lead, firing Yorinobu’s gun at the men, only dropping behind cover to reload, she blasts. Fuck it, stealth not an option, she’ll turn the whole damn hotel into a blood bath. 

The guards drop and V knows she’s been shot, but she’s standing so she moves onward. Through a doorway, three more men open fire as the mercs turn the corner. V blasts a bullet through ones head, Jackie blows the second full of holes. 

“One more fucker dead!” 

The third is further back behind a glass door and V charges forward, glass open as she fires at the man. Bullets ripping through his chest in a spray of blood before he collapses, red smeared across the marble. If she gets a chance to sleep tonight, she’ll be seeing red in her dreams. The vivid neon lights of the emergency lit hotel, the burgundy uniforms, and the steady spray of it from every shot fired. 

Jackie and V go running around a corner, through another glass doorway and slide into side of a marble planter. Taking a moment to breathe, she can hear guards talking. Orders from higher up, panicked yells from the less experienced. She can spot two around the corner, but can’t get a clear shot. She runs to the open doorway, catching one off guard as she slams into his view and rips a blade through his gut. 

A full armored worker fires off when he sees it, partially hidden by a linen rack. Another runs in, half hiding behind a planter, firing off around the corner. She presses against a wall between it and a partial doorway, reloading before she looks back through. The less armored man moves around a pillar, peeking from behind cover, and she shoots his head as soon as she sees it, watching him hit the marble. 

She struggles to get a clear shot of the third, still hidden behind the rack and so she runs forward, past the rack and coming to a sliding stop behind him. The guard fumbles to swing around when he realizes where she’s landed. Back turned to Jackie now, her friend fires a shot clean through the guard’s head. 

The room is cleared for a moment and the elevator is nearby, she runs past a desk, when she sees the button screen. A glowing red off symbol. 

“Fuck!” 

“Chingo tu madre! It's shut down! What about the other one?” Jackie yells between rattling breaths, she wanted this to be stealthy, didn’t want to put him anymore danger. 

She runs, heels clicking against blood streaked marble, nearly tripping over a corpse. Quickly trying to stop herself when another guard springs up behind a desk. Two more swarming the room, one in the heavy almost samurai-like Arasaka armor. 

“Orale! Got to plough through them!” 

She focuses on the Saka samurai, pulling the trigger again and again,  Thankful to have emptied the ammo off every body she’s dropped so far. A bullet catches his throat, a gush of blood as he paints the floor,  and she shifts to the other men. A headshot on one, the other already down thanks to Jackie. 

V searches their corpses, pocketing ammo and bounce backs, when she finds an access token on the samurai. V thanks any god that may be listening, if they exist and makes a beeline for the elevator at the end of the room. 

“Got access,” she breathes out, calling the elevator. 

Its doors open and she steps in, the side railing lit that bright red. She waits as Jackie rushes in, he’s still in somewhat decent shape it seems. Not the ideal heist, she thinks as she hits the button, but maybe they can get out of this. Rush Jackie to a ripper, check on T-Bug, collect their eddies, and tonight will be a story to tell later. Remember the Konpeki Heist, how everything that could go wrong did. 

“Hah-… agh! Heh, hng…” She can’t tell if he’s laughing or groaning in pain, maybe both. Blood is coating his hands, has he bled through the jacket? No, Jackie’s bulletproof, said it himself a billion times. He’ll be okay, he has to be. 

“Jackie…”

“Saburo Arasaka, Hundred and fifty years… and today… of all fuckin' days. That's like… some divine comedy shit… hehehehe… agh.”

And he’s laughing, of course he is, holding his guts together and he laughs, because why would Jackie Welles do anything else. She’s not sure if she’s going to cry or laugh along, if she’s charmed or infuriated by it; is he just still desperately searching for that silver lining or does he genuinely not give a fuck if he flatlines? That idea, the thought, makes her throat tighten. He can’t die, he won’t die, she won’t let him. 

“Save your strength, please, we’re not out of the woods yet.” 

“What do you think I’m doing!?” She doesn’t miss the frustration, because if he wasn’t so hurt, he’d been the one leading that battle, charging in to take brunt of it all, “Buuut… chill, V. We'll get out alive.” 

“I know we will,” she says and wants so desperately to believe.

The elevator reaches the lobby, doors open to more guards, more gunfire. She shoots at one that looks out behind a wall, three more in the main room of the lobby. Jackie slides behind a desk, using it for cover between shots. V takes lead, shooting from around a doorway. Its chaos and mayhem, V blasting the four men. One dropping behind a chair, catching one through the green ferns growing from a planter.  Three more Arasaka corpses, splattering blood across marble and the roots of those towering trees. Bullet after bullet, shot after shot, until her ears are ringing and three remain; the mercs and one last guard. 

He throws a grenade across the room at them, V shooting it in the air before it can hit them, smoke and fire smoldering across the ceiling. She uses the chance to close the gap and blows his brains out at close range.  

Room cleared they rush through the rest of the lobby, finally reaching the elevator that will take them to the garage. V slams the button, calling the elevator. The door opens and she runs inside, expecting Jackie to run in after her. His steps are slowing and he leans against the wall for a moment instead, having to catch a second wind. He’s getting worse, but they’re in the homestretch, they can do this. They can do this, he stumbles through, leaning against the elevator wall. 

“Argh… I'm leakin' a little…” His voice a rasp. 

The elevator stops at the garage, so close to safety. Doors opening she can already hear the guards and the mercs step out, eye on them, its a swarm of Arasaka. Gunfire rings out alongside the screech of brakes. The Delamain taxis coming to a stop in the center of the garage, it’s doors flinging open. 

“I advise that you waste no time in entering the vehicle,” Delamain chirps at them, like this is a normal night. 

But she needs no prodding. V grabs Jackie’s hand and runs for the taxi, dragging him through the garage to the open doors. Rather than making him walk around, she shoves Jackie through her side on the right, letting him slide into the left seat before she jumps in; he needs the extra second of protection more than her.  The doors shut, bulletproof shields raising as they the taxi is blasted by the guards. They’re safe? Right?

“Welcome back. With Delamain, you leave your problems at the door….”

“DRIVE NOW!” 

And Delamain does just that, engines firing up as he rams through the garage door like it’s nothing. She leans forward on the two front seats. As the taxi takes a sharp turn, they’re almost there, almost safe. Jackie wasn’t fucking around about the combat mode. 

“Not bad at all.” 

“Client feedback noted.”

“How’s the ride looking?” 

“Tiptop. Though alas, we are being pursued.”

And then she sees him, Adam Smasher, the borged monster of a former man rushes them. No hesitation, no fear, as he slams his entire body into the car. Shattering glass, gnashing metal, and nearly sending the car to the side; slamming V and Jackie to the right. 

“Sweet fuckin’ jesus!” 

Jackie curses as V screams, the hell kind of freak is this guy? The car goes back down on its wheels. Adam Smasher on a metal knee, slowing standing up on front of the car. 

“Combat mode activated. Please remain calm.”

“Calm!!!????” She yells out as Delamain begins to drive backwards. 

 “Road block ahead. I kindly request that you brace for impact.”

“¡Oy, mis huevos! Shiiiit!”

The cab takes a turn, rather than driving through Adam Smasher, it goes through another roadway. A row of cars blocking the way and Delamain slams through through without hesitation, taking them through the Night City roads away from the hotel. Jackie is hunched over, bloody hands still pressing the jacket to his gut, the white shirt soaked through with it. 

“A hostile enemy aircraft has a lock on us.”

V doesn’t need a word more from the AI taxi, climbing halfway out of the window, she spots the drones flying after them. Three of them. Needing steadier aim, she flips off her hearing aids with a thought, steeling herself as the car weaves through the road and she fires at them. This is Arasaka’s last ditch effor to keep a lock on them, if she can get rid of them, they’re in the clear. 

Three shots; first drone goes down sparking as it hits the city streets. Two more kills the second, the metal remains slamming into a streetlamp. And the third goes down with a final shot, smoldering onto the roof of a  BD store. She turns her hearing aids back on as she slides into her seat again; they’re gone. 

“Hostile aircraft eliminated.”

“Nice work there… Del…”

She shifts to look at Jackie, he has one hand on his stomach, the other braced against the door. V grabs his shoulder with one hand and his leg with the other, practically shaking him. 

“We did it, Jackie! We made it!” 

“Heh...guess we did…” It’s not the triumphant excited Jackie, she’d expect to hear. His voice still rough, a rattle barely leaving his lungs. Her eyes sting, no, no. 

“My medical diagnostics indicate that Mr. Welles’ condition is critical.”

“Critical, what- take us to a fucking ripperdoc, now! Vik’s behind Misty’s shop!” 

She reaches to put pressure against the jacket over his wound, hand over his, but the fabric is bled all the way through. Blood sticking to her skin, warmer than Jackie’s skin and he’s looking pale, paler every second. He leans back against the chair, strength starting to leave his body. 

“Apologies, but that will not be possible. Our itinerary has been pre-arranged and paid for in advance. I am not at liberty to alter it.”

“Fuck your itinerary and fuck your liberty, just get us to goddamn doctor!” 

“It's OK, V… I'll hold out…” 

When did his nose start to bleed, when he did he start hacking up blood, red streaking down his nostrils and over his chin. She sucks in a shaky breath, eyes starting to water. No, not Jackie, anyone but him… please.  She doesn’t know who she’s begging; maybe god, maybe fate, maybe just anything in this world that will listen. 

“Yeah, yeah,” she chokes out, nodding, “you-you just got to hold on, okay? And, and, we’ll hit the major leagues. Only the best jobs, swimming in eddies, just like you always wanted.” 

She brings her forehead to his, feeling the cold sweat of his skin, hoping her warmth, touch, her words; anything will keep him alert. The tears flow freely now, wet and hot on her cheeks. 

“Mija...  you’re gonna be rich, I can feel it…” 

“No, we’re gonna be rich, Jackie! You and me, that’s how it’s always been, I-I can’t do it without you, y-you got to stay with me okay! We’ll get back, you can see Misty and your mom, everyone and let them know you made it.” 

“Misty… She knew… She always knew…” he breathes out, eyes glassy with a weak smile, “told me not to take this job, why she always got to be right?” 

“J-just a little longer, please, Jackie...please,” she begs him, like he can stop it. Like he can put his inside back together, stop the color from draining out of his face, and can just stay with her. 

“The biochip…” he holds her shoulder, grasp weak, and takes the chip from his head with the other, “Hold on to it. For me…”

And he slides it into her neuroport, her vision glitching for a moment. She surges forward, wrapping her arms as tightly as she can, burying his head into his chest, crying into him as she clings tightly; wishing she had the strength to just hold him together. 

“Please, please, Jackie, I can’t lose you, just a little longer, please,” she sobs into his ashen skin and blood soaked shirt, begging with every slowed beat of his heart. 

For a moment his hands graze her back and she waits for a bear hug, for him to squeeze the breath from her lungs and lift her from her seat like he’s done so many times. For him to be Jackie; her best friend, her partner in crimes, her brother, her everything. But his touch is faint, the space between each beat growing further and further. Until his hands fall limp, body slack in her arms, and she knows the next heartbeat will never come. 

And she sobs, she holds him and cries out her pain, if only for a moment. No more ‘chicas’, ‘jainas’, or the odd ‘mija’. No more smiles that outshine the sun. No more nagging her to look on the bright side. No more bear hugs or hands the size of her head ruffling through her hair. No more Jackie…. And it’s not fair and it’s not right. 

“Mr. Welles has passed. Where shall I take his remains?” A robotic voice asks and she realizes the car is no longer moving. 

She forces herself to let him go, one of the hardest things she’ll ever have to do. Pulling away, she sees him, truly lifeless. Bright green eyes now dull with no light behind them, limp hands falling away from her. 

“W-what?” She stumbles over the word, brain fogged over with grief. 

“The Excelsior package provides for the disposal of passenger remains free of charge. I merely require a destination.”

“I…he-he’d want to be with his family,” she stumbles across her words. 

“Mr. Welles' closest blood relative is Guadalupe Alejandra Welles, proprietress of the El Coyote Cojo bar. I will make sure to deliver him safely. Mr. DeShawn awaits you in room number two-oh-four. ” 

That’s right… Dex… The chip. The world didn’t stop spinning, only her’s. There’s still a job. And the idea of still going, that there’s a tomorrow beyond today, seems unfathomable. How the hell could she ever move on…  

Because Jackie would kill her if she didn’t and she knows that. He’d haunt her for a thousand years and kick her ass every day of it. She looks at the remains, her friend gone, now limp and bleeding across white leather. And knows if he could speak, he’d tell her to get her ass to that hotel room and finish this job, that he and Bug didn’t die just for V to bury herself alongside them. She squeezes his shoulder, presses her forehead to Jackie’s one last time, feeling the cold of his skin. 

“See ya in the major leagues, Jack…”

V opens the car door and steps out into the backlot behind the motel. Rain pours down across her bloodied skin, soaking her to the bones, a numb chill clinging to her. Painted across brick is the Night City emblem marks the wall, red graffiti altering its slogan.. The city of broken dreams… 

She moves, on autopilot as she makes her way up the stairs and to the back door of the motel, sheltered from the rain once she’s in a trash filled back room. The motel is bathed in the neon red lights, only offset by the white of sign bearing its name, it’s always red. She stumbles up the staircase and then  another, past a tv chattering on about Saburo Arasaka. 

The merc walks down the gloomy hallway, dark except for warm yellow floor lights, Graffiti covered walls, rain washing down the windows at the end of it. And she reaches room 204, her arm leaden as she knocks. 

No response. 

“Its V,” she yells out, knocking harder. 

The door opens but before she can take another step, Dex’s body guard takes a step out. Large hand blocking her from coming further. He checks the hallway, making sure she wasn’t followed. After a moment, he finally pulls away. 

“He waiting.” 

The man takes a step back, allowing V into the room. She pushes through a bead curtain and sees Dex, leaning over a TV screen, another cigar between his golden fingers. She clears her throat, hearing the door close behind her. 

“WNS… N54… Even the pirate networks… You blowin' up everywhere! And the Jackster? He out in the car?” 

“He’s...dead,” her voice breaks, words like thorns in her throat. Having to say it, having to hear it from her own lips… 

“Condolences friend,” he tells her, shifting to look at her rather than the tv, “and the relic?” 

“Here,” she says, voice a murmur as she taps her neural port. 

“Hmm, I was afraid of that…” 

“What?!” 

She got the fucking relic, everyone is fucking dead, but she got the relic! Everyone died for this fucking chip and now he’s disappointed that she has it!?

“Saburo Arasaka?” Dex paces, smoking his cigar, “Dead…?! You got any notion of the shit you pulled me into?! You offed the fuckin' emperor! His majesty! Anyone with so much as a pinky toe dipped in this mess is as good as dead!’

“I didn’t kill Saburo! I- I-” she stalls, wanting to say she didn’t do anything, but can she say that? Can she act like she didn’t fuck up any of this? Like she has no role in Jackie and Bug’s deaths… 

"No shit?l Tell that to the ‘Saka ninjas they send after you!”

“We...we got to leave the city.” 

Badlands isn’t the safest for her, but it will be safer with money, she could settle in another city, maybe. She can outrun her family more than Arasaka. 

“You don’t say.” 

“Call Parker, we close the deal, collect our eddies, and go off the radar.” 

“A’ight, settle down,” he sits down on the leather couch, “Gotta be tactical about this. Parker, eddies, then we leave the city limits behind. But first… Your face… got blood all over it. Bathroom's there. Go get yourself cleaned up.”

He points her to the bathroom of the motel and she nods, in no place to argue, she just wants to be on the other side of this mess. To be able to tell herself at least she made it to the major leagues, at least Jackie would be proud of her, even if he isn’t here to see it. 

V stumbles into the bathroom, legs wobbling. Everything should hurt, her arm ripped open. Bruises mottling every inch of flesh. But she’s… numb. She works on autopilot, only somewhat aware of the door shutting behind her as she grips the sink, streaking blood across the silver.

Her blood and Jackie’s. 

Bile rushes up her throat, stinging as she pukes into the sink, choking and gagging it out. The tears threaten to come again, eyes stinging as he nails dig into the sink. He’s gone, he’s really fucking gone. Her best friend, her brother in everything but blood and name, her rock, and world. The man who took her in, who gave her a goal, a life… 

And how’d she repay him? 

Watch him die in the back of a Delamain. All her promises to keep him safe, to repay back all the kindness he gave to her. And she couldn’t save him, couldn’t protect him, couldn’t do shit but hold him. Fuckin’ only time she really hugged him with all she had and she doesn’t even know if he could really feel it, if his body was too numb. 

If she would have refused the job. 

If she had gotten them up the ladder. 

If she had been stronger. 

If she had been stealthier.

If she had gotten them through the lobby quicker. 

If she could have convinced Delamain to get him to a doc.

If she knew better first aid. 

If….if… if… 

Thoughts spin and whirl through her mind, a thousand reasons why it’s her fault. Why she could have saved him, why she could have done more, why she failed him… 

Misty will never take Jackie’s last name and it’s V’s  fault. They’ll never have kids, they’ll never buy a home together, he’ll never get to take her to that stupid hotel bar with the annoying waiter. 

Senora Welles will be forced to bury her son and it’s V’s fault. She’ll never hold her son again. Never see him smile again. Never see him live out his dream. Never cook his favorite foods for him and nag him not to talk with his mouth full. 

Jackie had a future, a family, people who loved him. He was going to marry Misty one day, have kids. Get enough eddies to provide for them and his mom. And now there’s a hole in all of their lives. The world as a whole now worse off without him, her own world destroyed. It should have been her, she knows that, the world would be better off losing her than losing him. 

Yet here she is and she’s just supposed to keep moving, supposed to keep breathing, supposed to live a life post Jackie. 

When she looks up, she sees her own reflection staring back at her. Red rimmed eyes, swollen  from crying and blood splattered across her skin, stuck in the ends of her hair. And she doesn’t know where it’s from, if it’s her own, if it’s Jackie’s, or if it’s from the people she killed tonight. T-Bug and Jackie gone, yet she’s here. 

A brilliant talented netrunner is gone. But she’s still here. 

The kindest man to walk in Night City is gone. But she’s still here. 

She glares at herself, because she has no right to be here and the world has no right to be this cruel. Her fingers clenches, pulling at her damaged nerve endings and she slams her fist into the mirror. Glass shatters and crackles, shards splintering into her knuckles. 

V washes the blood from her hands and face, cleaner but still a zombie as she turns to the door. Jackie wanted this for her, one of the only people who ever wanted anything good for her. If only for him, she owes it to him to finish this job. She stumbles to the bathroom door and opens it, stepping out.

Knuckles collide with her head, wracking more pain through an already injured merc, she’s sent sprawling to the ground. She curses and twists around on the floor, not sure she has the energy to stand back up, vision blurring as Dex’s bodyguard stomps on her. Heavy foot colliding with her head. She curses and sputters choking on blood.  She twists onto her back, blinking through the pain as Dex’s bodyguard hands him a pistol. The fixer walks closer, standing over her.

“Can't risk it, V,” he says casually, leveling his gun with her head,” ‘Member our first convo?”

“I’ll fucking kill you!” She screams, spitting blood as she stares down the barrel. 

“Seems I've chosen the quiet life, after all. No blaze o' glory for me.” 

The shot rings out, loud and clear, the world going dark as a bullet rips through the young merc’s head. Blood splatters across the dirty carpet, her body going limp, a final breath gurgling forth as she chokes on her own blood, iron taste clinging in the back of her throat. 

Then she’s gone. 

[steves-on-a-plane]

Better Together

Words: 2042 Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader   Request: “Hello, favorite blog writer! :) I may also request a Bucky Imagine where maybe he's your Ex (breaking up cause of he doesnt want to get you in danger cause of the avengers) but he is lost without you and totally changed in the bad way, but you feel the same.. then one night he wants to leave the Avengers behind but Steves get you there and you convince him to stay while hes already on his bike.. then you talk, decide to give your love another chance annnd end up in bed :) hehe. THAAANK YOU DOLL” - Anon Summary: Steve Rogers comes knocking on Reader’s door in the middle of the night. He shows her a note from her Ex Bucky who plans on leaving the Avengers and starting a new life. Steve thinks Reader is the only one who can convince Bucky he’s already where he belongs.

You woke up in the middle of the night. You’d been tossing and turning most of it but that was nothing new. You’d been having trouble sleeping ever since he broke up with you. He said he was doing it to protects you. A part of you knew that his concerns were genuine. He always said he loved you and you could tell when you looked into his eyes that he meant it. Being the significant other of an Avenger had its risks. That was why Clint had kept his entire family secret, even from the rest of the team. There was plenty of news footage to act as proof of the dangers Tony had put Pepper in.

The only difference between you and Laura Barton or Pepper Potts, was that you knew what you’d signed up for. You didn’t know Bucky before the Winter Soldier. You’d only been a part of his journey after he tried to separate himself from that persona. It wasn’t as if you’d lived a normal life together for some time and then he happened to get invited to join at team that put the world at danger just as often as it saved it. But, just like the first time he’d told you he loved you, once Bucky decided to leave, there was no changing his mind.

It had been roughly three months since he’d left. He’d asked the others to stay away to help keep you safe, so when Bucky left most of your friends did too. They all had loved ones of their own and they knew they’d do anything to protect them. The team didn’t agree with Bucky’s decision, but they at least tried to respect it. You wished they had respected you enough to ask for your opinion instead of treating you like a child too fragile to handle yourself.

Your throat felt scratchy and dry. You decided to get up and get a drink of water. It wasn’t like you were going to be going back to sleep any time soon. You ambled into the kitchen letting loose a loud yawn. You rubbed your eyes and made your way over to the sink. You’d just been about to fill a glass with tap water when you heard a knock on your apartment door. Your eyes glanced over at the microwave. It was four in the morning.

“Who in the world…?” You abandoned your task at hand to peek through the peephole. Steve Rogers was standing in the hall. He and Sam were the only ones who didn’t abide by Bucky’s no contact rule. They both told you many times and on separate occasions that they were sure Bucky would come to his sense soon. You opened the door and motioned for Steve to step inside.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be awake.” He confessed as you closed the door behind him.

“Couldn’t sleep.” You shrugged. You folded your arms over your chest. “Shouldn’t you be at the compound pretending I don’t exist?”

“Probably.” Steve shrugged. “You know he’s just doing what he thinks is best.”

“Yeah, but you know that just because he thinks it’s best that doesn’t make it the only option, right?” You sighed.

“Believe me, I do. That’s why I’m here actually.” Steve confessed. “He’s leaving, [Y/N]. He packed all his things at the compound. He left me a note.” Steve handed over a piece of paper that looked like it had in fact been scratch across in Bucky’s impatient font. You looked down at the note and began to scan it quickly.

“Rogers, By the time you’re reading this, I’ll already be gone. Don’t bother trying to follow me. I appreciate everything you’ve tried to do for me over the years, but I need a fresh start, a real fresh start. You’ve been the best friend I could have ever asked for but this is the end of the line Pal. -Buck.”

“You have any idea where he may be going?” Steve questioned. You looked up at Captain America. His brows were knit together with worry. His lips were turned down into a frown that didn’t seem appropriate on the face on the Star-Spangled Man.

“Actually, yeah. Are you sure we should go after him, Steve? He seems pretty sure that this is what he wants.” You hesitated.

“Well, he seemed pretty sure that calling things off with you was what he wanted too.” Steve told you. “He’s been a mess without you, [Y/N]. He’s been second guessing every decision he’s made. He’s been short tempered. He doesn’t sleep well. He won’t talk with anyone unless it’s about work. I Think you’re the only one who can convince him to stay.”

“I couldn’t even convince him to stay with me, Steve.” You disagreed. “But maybe together we can prove to him that he’s better off with the team than he would be alone. I’ll get my coat.”

Steve programed the address you gave him into his car’s GPS. The directions led to a log cabin in Virginia that Bucky had purchased a few years ago. Steve parked his car in the driveway. It didn’t look like Bucky had arrived yet.

“I didn’t even know he had this place.” Steve gaped. “You’re sure this is where he’ll come?”

“This would be my best guess. It was supposed to be a secret. He got the idea from Clint.” You told him. “He wanted a place to hide in case he ever lost control again.”

“Why did he tell you about it?” Steve asked. He was clearly a little hurt that his lifelong best friend had trusted you with such a big secret.

“At the time, he told me that if he ever lost control again, I’d be the only one who would be able to pull him out of it. You think you can handle this?” You questioned.

“He’d do the same for me.” Steve said before getting out of the car. You followed after him, the two of you began to walk the perimeter of the house, looking for any indication that Bucky may have already been there and left. After only a few minutes you heard the familiar purr of a motorcycle. You turned a corner as Bucky cut the engine. Because it was still dark out, he didn’t see you or Steve at first. However, he certainly recognized his best friend’s vehicle.

“How the hell did you find me, Rogers?” Bucky mumble to himself.

“A little bird told me.” Steve confessed, He stepped closer to Bucky, which activated a motion sensor light above Bucky’s garage.

“That makes sense.” Bucky sighed when he saw you standing next to Steve.

“Can we talk?” You wondered, stepping closer to him.

“We have talked, [Y/N].” He answered. “I don’t have anything else to say. To you or him.” He nodded at Steve. He tried to walk past both of you towards his front door. You reached out for his wrist to stop him but you fingers only brushed against cool vibranium. He continued walking.

“Well, I do.” You called after him. That seemed to catch his attention briefly. He looked back at you over his shoulder.

“Do you remember what you said, when you took me here?” You called out to him.

“That was years ago. It was a different time, [Y/N].” He shook his head.

“It wasn’t so long ago, Buck.” You insisted, stepping closer. “You said you always wanted a place like this, away from the city. A quiet place to raise a family. You said you liked this house because it had potential, it gave you hope. Hope that we could have a brighter future together than your dark past.” You took another step closer to him and pointed to a large oak tree in the backyard. “You said that tree would be perfect for a tree house, handmade like your grandparents had at their house. The kind with a tire swing hung from a lower branch.”

“That was a pipe dream, [Y/N].” Bucky argued.

“It was more than that.” You insisted. “It was a future we can still have, together. We can be together, James. We can make this work. We can have the two point five kids with a tree house, a dog and a white picket fence, and in another thirty years we can have three rocking chairs out on the back deck enjoying the life we build. It won’t be easy, we’ll have to fight like hell, but you’ve given up too much to not get a happy ending.”

“Three chairs?” Bucky repeated.

“Yeah, when I picture us way older, Steve’s always there. I just want to be prepared in case he never marries and ends up living with us when he’s retired.” You explained. “You know I’ll age faster than you two, so I like to think that instead of remarrying the two of you grow old together. It sounds weird when I say it out loud.” You rolled your eyes. You could just make out the slightest hint of a smirk on Bucky’s face in the moonlight.

“So, in your fantasy reality where we end up together and you are presumably my wife, you envision my best friend living with us?” He chuckled.

“He’s family.” You shrugged. “What else would we do? Put him in a nursing home? Family takes care of each other, especially when they don’t know how to take care of themselves.”

“Alright, alright. Point taken.” You watched Bucky’s shoulders slump and he heaved a great sigh. “I’ll admit, I may have been acting a bit…irrational, the past few months. The truth is, none of this is how I pictured my life turning out.  Sometimes I get into my own head and, it’s hard to love myself, so I can’t understand how anyone else would. I truly don’t deserve the two of you.”

“Nonsense,” Steve came to stand beside you. “There’s no one else on earth stubborn enough to track you down.”

“You know something, Rogers, I think you might be right.” Bucky smiled.

“[Y/N]’s right too, Buck. We’re family. We stand by each other. We fight together. Especially if that fight is against our own instincts.” Steve said.

“It’s pretty cold out here.” Bucky observed. “You guys want to come inside?”

“I think maybe the two of you need time to talk. Can you make sure she get’s home alright?” Steve questioned.

“She already is home. We’ve got it from here, Rogers.” Bucky assured him. “Thank you.”

“Till the end of the line.” Steve told him before walking back to his car.

“You have time to talk?” He asked you. Bucky started walking towards his front door.

“Yeah,” you nodded, following after him. “But truthfully Buck, I’m exhausted. I haven’t been sleeping great and Steve got me all full of adrenaline on the way over. Now that I know you’re okay, my body is finally starting to register that it’s five in the morning and I should be sleeping. Could I maybe crash on your couch and we can talk in the morning?”

You looked around realizing the house had hardly any furniture. The front door opened to an empty entry way. Bucky kicked his shoes off and left them in the middle of the floor. To your left was a living room with just an old big box TV & a couch. To the right, was a dining room, which was filled with bins and boxes, probably everything he’d moved from the Compound.

“I have a bed you know.” He offered as you took off your boots. “For you.” He added, I can sleep on the couch.

“Steve said you haven’t been sleeping well, you should take the bed. You need the rest.” You insisted.

“You said yourself that you’re having trouble sleeping.” Bucky reminded you.

“Yeah, didn’t realize how much I hated sleeping alone until you left.” You confessed.

“I know the feeling.” He chuckled. “Nearly called you that first night and begged you to take me back. Plenty of room for the two of us. We could both get a decent night’s sleep for the first time in months and we can figure out everything else in the morning.”

“Count me in.” You yawned.

[merakiui]

i don’t remember actually sending a request, sorry about that- anyway, how about the noctu team realizing they’re crushing on the manager? make it like a puppy crush for aiyachi bc the baby is only 14

(Here are the hcs! Please forgive me. I don’t know why they took so long to post. :< But I’m happy with the result! I hope you’ll like it too. Thank you for requesting! These are really cute to think about.)

Noctu Team With a Crush HCs (Aitachi, Kirr, Nine, and Day)

🎯 Aitachi 🎯

Aitachi looks up to a lot of people. He’s not bothered by the fact that most of them might be older and taller. That just means they’ve got more years under their belt and plenty of wisdom to share with him.

He’s so used to being around adults that your presence doesn’t faze him in the slightest.

Intimidation? He knows no such thing! Aitaichi hardly considers fear when you treat him with the same respect as everyone else.

Just don’t baby him. Aitachi may be the smallest and youngest out of the group, but that doesn’t mean he’s a child. He’s a mature Reaper with the courage and strength of a true, pure-hearted warrior!

That’s why he’s always willing to put his life on the line if you’re ever in danger, which is extreme and illogical considering he’s already died once and is now immortal.

He means well, but you’ll still clarify that he doesn’t need to go to such lengths to ensure your safety.

“I’ll be fine,” you told him after a vengeful spirit tried to attack you. “You don’t have to worry so much. As long as no one’s hurt, we can continue with our work, right?”

The very next morning you find a talisman on your desk, along with a small note telling you to keep it close whenever you’re in danger.

Since then, you’ve kept it as a good luck charm, knowing that as long as you’re careful you won’t fall prey to any wandering spirits.

Aitachi takes up the role as your unofficial errand boy ever since he discovered the special spot on your desk for the doll he made. He insists on bringing you every important document because it’s a warrior’s duty to provide for those in need.

His fellow Noctu Reapers think it’s quite charming that he does this, especially Day, who makes all sorts of comments doting on how his “little brother” is so helpful and sweet.

You’re grateful that Aitachi’s so willing to lend a hand without a single complaint, and you make sure he knows just how thankful you are.

Even if the gesture is reserved for that of a child, you still pat him on the head. Aitachi pouted about it at first, saying that head pats aren’t suited for warriors.

Now he just blushes at the contact, proud to have gotten your recognition.

He’s almost like Day in a sense, unintentionally following you around like a lost hound.

It’s quite obvious that he’s got a case of young puppy love.

He’s making another talisman doll for you when he comes to the realization of his wholesome feelings.

Are warriors even supposed to feel this way?

He’s stuck thinking about it the whole day, and he’ll probably be less confident to admit to it.

In the meantime, though, he’ll continue helping you to the best of his ability, secretly doing everything he can to be considered your number one. Almost like a teacher’s pet, but in this case it’s manager’s pet.

All of those talisman dolls are starting to pile up on your desk, as well as his innocent adoration for his hard-working manager.

🏹 Kirr 🏹

Having a crush is such a foreign concept to Kirr.

When he first heard the word, he took it quite literally, wondering why anyone would want to crush another person. That should only happen in a survival scenario where life and death is at stake and you’re facing an enemy with negative intentions.

Yet as he learns more about what it means in a romantic sense, it gives him more confusion. So a crush is a strong sense of admiration for another person?

In that case, wouldn’t it be his manager who he holds in high esteem?

He doesn’t really know how to bring this topic up with the others, so he’s debating it internally. It’s definitely a struggle for poor Kirr, who can’t seem to figure out whether or not what he’s feeling is a crush or just simple respect for his colleague.

So he ends up watching how the Reapers act around you. They’re so kind and sociable. And he acts the same, albeit at a serious level where most jokes go over his head.

Kirr is so busy troubling himself with these inner debates that he doesn’t even register when someone’s trying to talk to him, and it’s a bit concerning.

One afternoon he’s sharpening the arrowheads on the ends of his arrows when he sees you crossing the field. And you look serene as you walk, not paying any mind to the wind that rustles your clothes.

He’s shared plenty of conversations with you before, but during those times he never had a chance to appreciate you in all your astounding form.

It’s almost too much for him, and a slew of feelings catch his heart in a vice.

Maybe he does have a crush after all.

But where are all these emotions coming from? Based off of what he’s heard from the Department, Kirr knows that a crush is normal for everyone of all ages. It’s a sign that you’ve taken romantic interest in someone.

He wonders what one does with feelings like these. Obviously he could confess or get to know you more, but something’s holding him back. Suddenly, he’s become indecisive.

Normally, when he’s hunting, it’s easy to rely on logic and instincts. Now he’s not so sure which will help him out in this situation.

When you catch his staring and wave, a smile on your face, Kirr holds up his arm, returning the gesture. You really are a great person; your personality glimmers underneath the glare of the sun, and he’s glad that someone so amazing is his manager.

Logic might fail in this case, and instincts won’t get him anywhere as he has no idea where to begin. So maybe he’ll settle on his heart, following it like it’s a searchlight in the blurry haze of confusion that’s overtaken his reasoning.

Kirr’s definitely going to gravitate towards you more as he tries to navigate his newfound feelings. He’s doing his best, so please encourage him.

🎼 Nine 🎼

He catches you slacking off one day, absorbed in the videos on your mobile device.

Nine isn’t one to snoop, but he does happen to catch the swish of a colorful pen against a sheet of unwrinkled paper. He knows what it is at once.

You’re watching calligraphy videos.

“Do you enjoy that, Manager?” he’ll ask, awaiting your answer.

Once you confirm that you do like it, Nine’ll be happy to know that his manager shares similar interests with him.

Since then, the two of you have bonded over calligraphy, and Nine’s even showed you what his skillful hands can do. Just give him a pretty pen and some paper and he’ll be scribbling all sorts of gorgeous words.

He finds that the best word to write is your name, which is a tad confusing, but you seem honored.

Before he can even register the extent of your relationship, you’re already inviting him to places. Whether it’s in your office talking over paperwork or rendezvousing in the human world during a successful mission, Nine enjoys your presence.

Nine realizes that every day spent in your company is fun, albeit a dangerous erosion to his heart, which is beginning to wear at its foundation.

He manages to stay composed, but there’s something strange in how he hopes of eventually surpassing the border known as friendship.

He’s not used to getting so close to others; usually he keeps his distance, only upholding a conversation when needed. But now he feels as though he’ll lose you if he doesn’t stick around, and the idea of that is crushing.

You’re already such a ray of sunshine, a soothing force against the hectic work days, so he wants to ensure that you’re also content.

He’s writing down the remnants of a composition he recalls, testing his memory of his distant past life, when everything starts to click into place. The stars align as he writes in the final notes, reviewing the completed composition with tranquil eyes.

If he’s right, it should be played slow and steady, transitioning between notes of melancholic hope and satisfied bitterness. Quite a tragic piece, if he’s being honest, but maybe that was his intention. Or his memory might be faulty. Either way, he’s certain that this composition describes his inner turmoil perfectly. Bittersweet like chocolate and uncertain like his intuition.

Nine can’t remember the name to this particular composition, so he writes the first thing that comes to his mind.

The moment he finishes writing your name is definitive proof of what he’s feeling.

Some would say it’s a crush, and others would say it’s unfiltered endearment. Regardless of what it is, it holds the same implications.

Nine’s in love.

Though his previous life was cut short and he refuses to sort through his cracked past, he has all the time in the world to start anew. And that’s all he needs to act upon these feelings that have blossomed.

It’ll take time, but he knows that he’ll be able to confess when he’s certain that his love isn’t completely one-sided.

In the 14th Department, Nine seems to wear his smile purposefully, and there’s a bright shine in his gaze.

🍦 Day 🍦

He’s with you 24/7. At least, that’s what it feels like to you.

Realistically, it’s because of your role as manager. But at some point he just starts to forget that that’s your job and he begins to consider you a friend.

He’s in your office all the time, sitting on a swivel chair or trying to lounge on your desk while you’re writing up reports.

In the beginning, you would always kick him out, lightly advising him that work hours are not play hours—even if there aren’t any ongoing missions.

But Day is so loyal, constantly flitting around you like a butterfly. He seems to smile even brighter when you address him, and despite his carefree demeanor he wants to provide as much help as he can.

“Let me carry that, Manager!” or “Hey, hey! We should get ice cream to celebrate your hard work. I want to take you to the best place. You have to try the new flavors with me!”

You give up pushing him away and start to welcome him into your office.

The other Reapers begin to suspect something’s up, especially those who are more perceptive than the others. Day’s own team members can’t help but wonder what’s got him so fascinated with you.

He claims he can never be bored when he’s around you, which proves to be true because this man can talk about anything and everything.

All it takes is for you to mention that you’re in the mood for something sweet, and he’ll be on that topic faster than a moth to a light.

Without meaning to, he memorizes all of the information he learns about you, accidentally mentioning some facts during a conversation.

It makes you realize just how close he pays attention to you.

Even Nyang Lead Manager has noticed his attachment, but he’s uninterested for the most part. As long as Day doesn’t let himself get distracted from work, he’s not bothered.

But it makes things harder for you. Your focus diminishes whenever he’s near, so much so that you begin to take in different aspects of his actions.

He rarely blushes, but when he does it’s usually whenever you do something that warrants bashfulness. And he’s started to compliment you a lot now, always recognizing changes to your fashion.

Day happens to be relaxing in his dorm, reading an ancient tome about magic and its connection to the heart, when it finally makes sense.

Wait. Hold on.

He peers at the symbols with undeterred intensity, recalling memories of you and him. Eerily, his feelings fit the exact description in the book.

He really does spend a lot of time with you, and you’ve been occupying his thoughts day and night since he first got to know you. Some would say it’s too much, but you can never have enough of something you love.

Love. That’s the word he was looking for.

He’s in love. True, real, authentic love.

Day pops up from his sitting position so fast it almost throws him off balance. The other Noctu members look at him in confusion, but he’s too busy to even give them an explanation.

Now wired with too much excitement to feel worried, he rushes through the 14th Department, completely shirtless and in a hurry to get to your office so he can give you a rambling soapbox speech about his inner thoughts and feelings.

Someone give him a shirt before he gets himself in trouble with Nyang.

[lockefanfic]

Business Trip: Pt 17 - Interrogation

The fact that there was an actual interrogation going on in the next-door interrogation room was probably the hottest thing about the whole situation.

You notice that the police officer in the cold, sterile room is questioning a heavily tattooed, scary looking dude, but that’s pretty much all the attention you give the scene, given that Park Jihyo was doing her best to distract you.

She distracted you partially with her cute, pretty face, her large, round eyes that seemed like they were always shining with some inner light, making the room brighter just with their presence. Then there was her cute button nose, her wide, blinding smile, and her short haircut that only added to the alluring cute sexiness that she exuded with every movement.

But she mostly distracted you with her breasts.

“Bae Irene is still on the loose, and finding her is our top priority.”

Your statement draws looks and nods of agreement from the women in the room, each of them determined in their own way to finding the mastermind behind the recent attacks on your company. The fact that two of Red Velvet’s members were now currently behind bars did little to dull their desire to bring its leader to justice, especially now that they had escalated things beyond mere corporate espionage and into the realm of physical assault.

Three days have passed since your successful plan to capture Wendy and Joy. You are joined in the large boardroom of JYP’s Seoul office by Momo, Choa, Seolhyun,and Jeongyeon; on a video conference monitor on the wall is Mina, joining into the meeting from back home. Her legal expertise was likely to be important in the days to come.

“Jeongyeon,” you continue, addressing the young IT specialist who had played a key role in trapping Wendy and Joy, “were you able to find anything in Red Velvet’s data that might lead us to her?”

“No,” she replies with a disturbed look on her small face, “it’s kind of crazy - there’s nothing on Red Velvet’s servers that is related to her at all. There are obvious gaps of missing data, especially in data that has a chronological sequence… but some entire files are missing.”

“What do you mean, missing? Is her data on a separate server?” Seolhyun asks. She was the head of JYP’s Seoul office now, following the retirement of her superior; she was just as determined as anyone to find Irene given Red Velvet was operating literally in her own backyard.

“I don’t know where it is. My theory is that when we established the connection to Red Velvet’s servers, it automatically triggered a program or subroutine that deleted everything related to Irene. She must have been prepared for something like this to happen and she had contingency plans in place in case her underlings got caught.”

“That bitch didn’t even give a damn about deleting her other members’ data,” Momo points out with a sneer, “some leader she is.”

“Keep digging, Jeongyeon,” you say as you give her an encouraging look, “maybe you’ll find something in one of the other members’ files that can help us out.”

Jeongyeon manages a smile, and you are surprised for a split second by how cute her determined look was; you rarely saw or had a chance to work with her, buried deep in JYP HQ’s IT floor as she usually was. But now that you had a chance to really spend some time with her, you found yourself attracted to her geeky, tomboy appeal.

“We should interrogate Wendy and Joy,” Momo says, eager as any of you for any chance to strike back at Red Velvet, “if we tell them their boss didn’t do anything to save their asses they might be more willing to sell her out.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Mina adds through the video conference feed, “not legally possible, anyway. We’re not law enforcement officers, and now that they’re under the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency’s custody, we can’t touch them. Any interrogation of those two will have to come from the SMPA. Considering the number of crimes Red Velvet has been involved in, it’s likely we’ll be waiting awhile before any interrogation relating to JYP even begins.”

Momo seems disappointed at Mina’s answer - she was really chomping at the bit to get at those two, and a small part of you takes comfort in the fact that perhaps it was because they had hurt you.

“I’ll speak to Detective Park at the SMPA today. Maybe she can give us a few minutes with them if we’re lucky,” you suggest. You were eager to meet with Park Jihyo again, if for no other reason than to thank her for her part in rescuing you three days ago.

“Then what about Sana and Tzuyu?” Momo says, “they received their orders directly from Irene when they pulled their little Taiwan stunt. Maybe they might know something that can help us.”

Momo’s tone is neutral, although you knew that she still harboured some resentment towards Tzuyu and especially towards Sana for what they did in Taiwan with Seolhyun’s company data. As much as you appreciated her eagerness in finding Irene and making her pay for what she did to you, you knew anyone that questioned Sana and Tzuyu would need a clear head. Her history with Sana would clearly compromise any questioning she did to the other Japanese girl.

“I’ll take care of that,” Mina offers, saving you from having to tell Momo that she couldn’t question the two ex-SM employees, “They’re still back here at home anyway. I’ll get some questions ready and question them in the next day or two.”

“Good, do that and report back when you’ve spoken to them,” you say, “maybe they’ll still have some contact information or something like that… A phone number, an email address, anything. Momo, you, Seolhyun, and Choa can help Jeongyeon comb through all the Red Velvet data and try to find anything that might lead to Irene. I’m sure Jeongyeon can use the help.”

“There’s terabytes of stuff to go through,” Jeongyeon adds with a sigh, “those girls were busy. There are records of at least a few dozen instances of extortion and blackmail, each with hours of recordings and video.”

“Great, let’s get to work. Let’s meet up back here tonight at 10 and we can get some drinks. It’s been a rough few days. Maybe it’ll help us cool off.”

Your team nods, and each of you head off with determined looks on your faces.

---

The other women have left to start their respective tasks, and Momo is the last to leave the room. As she steps out of the boardroom you grab her lightly by her arm.

“Momo, I was hoping we could talk.”

She had stayed by your hospital bedside for every single minute you were there, refusing to go home or even eat until Choa reminded her to do so. Thankfully whatever drug Joy had knocked you out with had no permanent effects, and you were discharged after three days of observation by hospital staff.

The whole time the two of you didn’t really speak about your relationship; she was too busy taking care of you despite your insistence that you were fine, helping you eat, fluffing your pillows or finding magazines or books for you to pass the time with. Every moment she spent with you only increased your affection for her, and your desire to talk to her about what had happened with Sana.

The two of you hadn’t slept together since the ordeal, not for lack of effort on your part. Momo refused your advances, however, as difficult as it was for her to not give in. She said it was so that you could concentrate on recovering, although you knew it was partially because she was teasing you, and partially because she wanted to punish you.

Momo responds to your request to talk with a sigh, although you could tell it wasn’t because she was dreading the prospect.

“Can we… wait until all this is over? I want to talk to you too, but I can’t relax until that bitch is behind bars,” she responds, her voice soft.

You nod slowly, happy to give her the time and space she needed.

“I… I’m happy you’re here, Momo,” you tell her, eager to tell her something, anything, that conveyed how you felt about her, “...And I’m happy you’re in my life,” you add, not quite knowing where the words were coming from - they were out of your mouth before you knew it. It was your heart speaking, you guessed.

Momo smiles softly, her large, round eyes boring into your very soul, rendering you speechless as they so often did.

“After drinks with the girls tonight I want to fuck so hard we have to call in sick tomorrow,” she says with a smile, eliciting giggles from the both of you, “I bet you’re really backed up, what with an entire three days without sex.”

Classic Momo, interrupting an emotional moment with the topic of sex. You reach for her hand and are thankful for her presence in your life. Your fingers intertwine with hers.

You spend a long minute there in silence, the two of your sharing soft smiles with each other, happy for a moment of quiet following the recent storm that the two of you had weathered together. Eventually Momo steps close and gives you a peck on the lips before turning and rejoining the rest of your team.

You watch her leave, the smile still on your lips.

---

You had expected the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency’s Cybercrime Division to be hidden away in some corner of the large central Seoul precinct, but you were surprised by what you found when Detective Park led you through the glass sliding doors into her department; a hyper modern, super advanced open concept office that seemed to have more screens and monitors in once place than you had ever seen in your entire life.

“Korea is one of the most connected countries in the world,” Jihyo states as she leads you through the busy department, “and as such cybercrime is a huge deal for us, especially here in the capital.”

All around you officers are glued to monitors or busy typing away on their phones. Everywhere tablets, smartphones, and laptops have taken the place of charts, notebooks and notepads. Truly this was the police department of the future.

“Please,” Jihyo says as she invites you into her office that is tucked into a corner of the floor. She closes the door behind you as you step in, and she motions for you to sit in the seat in front of her desk with an exaggerated servant’s flourish. The young detective had a cheerful, bright charisma about her that made her easy to get along with.

“I wanted to thank you personally, detective,” you start, “for your role in what happened earlier this week. We weren’t expecting them to drug me, so it was good that you and your men have such impeccable timing.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Jihyo responds, “as you know Red Velvet has been a thorn in our sides for years. I’m glad they’ve finally been put to justice.”

“Most of them, anyway.”

“Most of them, anyway,” Jihyo echoes, catching on to what you are saying.

“My team is hard at work combing through what we’ve found on their servers. We’re hoping we’ll be able to find some trace of data that might lead us to Irene.”

Jihyo gives you a small, sly smile.

“You do realize,” she begins, “that Red Velvet’s data is official evidence. You’re not supposed to have any of it.”

“It would have been foolish of us to not make a copy before we handed it over to you,” you answer truthfully.

Jihyo gives you an exaggerated sigh as though she was disappointed in you, but you could tell she was being sarcastic.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just tell me that,” she says, her bright smile still on her round, cute face. When you first met her you were still technically drugged, but now that you had the chance to have a conversation under less stressful circumstances you were surprised to see how attractive she really was. She had a bright, cheerful aura about her that was somewhat at odds with the gravity of her position.

“Anyway, i was hoping you could help us with something.”

“What might that be?”

“We’d like to question Wendy and Joy. We believe if we tell them that Irene cut her losses and left them behind, they’d be willing to co-operate with us and perhaps provide us with information regarding her whereabouts.”

Jihyo’s smile widens, surprised that you had the audacity to ask for such a thing.

“That’s kind of illegal,” she answers, “they’re suspects for a crime that is being actively investigated. Their interrogation is under SMPA jurisdiction. My jurisdiction.”

“Then maybe we don’t have to question them. Maybe you’ll just happen to accidentally leave them in a room after hours and with any recording devices turned off…”

“...a room where you and your staff might be waiting?”

“You can’t stop what you don’t know is happening, Detective Park,” you finish.

Jihyo leans forward on her desk, bringing her hands together beneath her chin and interlacing her fingers.

“I understand your eagerness to find Irene,” she says, “but you know I can’t leave you alone with Wendy and Joy after what they did to you. I’m sure you’re a fine gentleman that wouldn’t hurt a woman, but I wish I could say the same for your girlfriend. She looked like she wanted to tear Wendy’s head off.”

“Momo is… passionate,” you admit.

“Dammit,” Jihyo hisses under her breath, her volume obviously loud enough for you to hear.

“Excuse me?”

“So she is your girlfriend. I was kinda hoping she was just a friend or especially concerned co-worker or something.”

You smile as you realize what Jihyo was implying. You decide to tease her a little, saying, “Detective Park, are you attracted to me? Are you disappointed that I have a girlfriend?”

“Noooo,” Jihyo answers, leaning back into her chair. Her cheeks turn a deep shade of pink. You smile smugly, liking where this was going.

“Well, I’ll have you know that Momo and I have… a relaxed relationship. Especially when it comes to other women.”

“I’ll have you know I’m not some easy girl that’s going to sleep with you just because your girlfriend lets you bang other women.”

“Who said anything about sleeping? There must be an interrogation room around here somewhere we can use…”

Jihyo grabs a pencil off her desk and throws it at you with a laugh, and you are happy to find that she has taken your joke for what it was. She maintains eye contact with you after you successfully deflect the projectile, a sly, alluring look on her features.

“Can you shoot?” she asks, out of the blue.

“Shoot… like, a gun?”

“No, shoot a damn basketball. We’re in a police station. Of course I mean guns.”

“Um, I can’t say ever shot a gun, although I’m pretty good with Widowmaker’s sniper rifle, if that’s the kind of gun you mean…”

Jihyo giggles before rising from her desk and tapping you on the shoulder on her way out of the office.

“Follow me,” she says, and you follow her eagerly.

---

Park Jihyo, it appeared, was quite the shot.

The pistol - a Daewoo K5, as Jihyo informed you - bucked violently in her hands that seemed so tiny by comparison, but she did an admirable job of handling the recoil of the weapon. More than admirable, it appeared, as she proudly showed you the close up shot of the target that was displayed on the tablet embedded into the wall of the firing range. Her smile was even brighter, it seemed, than it was earlier in her office.

“Cops rarely carry their sidearms on duty here in Korea,” she says as she makes her weapon safe, “and when we have to go on a raid in the field it’s usually only the SWAT guys that are carrying. But every now and then I like to sneak down here and let off a few mags to blow off steam.”

“You’ve clearly had a lot of practice. I dunno if I stand a chance here.”

“C’mon, give it a shot. All that Overwatch experience must mean something.”

You smile at her jab as you approach the firing booth and pick up the pistol, your first time handling any sort of firearm.

“Now take the long rectangular thing with the bullets in it - that’s called the magazine - and then put it in-”

You smile as you grasp the magazine and load the pistol, racking the slide back with your free hand as the pistol chambers a round.

“I’ve watched enough movies and fired enough virtual guns, thanks,” you retort, and Jihyo snorts in reply. She approaches you and you feel your senses tingle as she brings her arms around your torso. You are even more aroused by the feel of her chest pressing ever so slightly against your back. Her hands lift your forearms into the correct position.

“Shooting a real gun isn’t like clicking your mouse button,” she says matter-of-factly, “just breathe and pull the trigger back softly. You should feel a wall in the trigger. After that, the trigger will break and the gun will go off. Line up the rear and front sight, breathe out, pull the trigger…”

The pistol barks, and you both glance at the tablet that is relaying a live shot of the target downrange, looking for a bullet hole… that is totally absent.

“Did you… did you just miss the entire target? Damn, you suuuuuuck,” Jihyo teases.

“Just you wait,” you retort, “I just need some practice.”

The next fourteen rounds do little to back up your claim, but at least three of them manage to hit the paper, even if only one of those three actually lands in one of the target circles; the furthest one, at that.

“Apparently shooting a real gun isn’t like clicking my mouse button,” you say, echoing Jihyo’s earlier words and being rewarded with a throaty laugh from the detective. She steps into the booth with you to begin to fill another empty magazine with more rounds, and you tense suddenly at her close proximity.

“Maybe you just need motivation,” Jihyo says with a suddenly sultry tone.

“Maybe I do,” you agree.

“Maybe if you hit the three point circle with this next magazine, we find an interrogation room around here somewhere we can use.”

New motivation fills your veins, and you grasp the pistol in both hands as you load the newly filled magazine. Jihyo steps out of the booth, you line up your shot, and pull the trigger fifteen times.

You miss with every shot. Five miss the target altogether, eight hit the paper outside of the target circles. Two hit the five point circle, although you’re sure they were mostly fluky shots.

You eject the magazine and lay down the still smoking pistol. Jihyo retrieves it, the remaining ammunition, and your eye and ear protection and returns the equipment to the weapons storage room, replacing the lock and shutting down the range, a sly smile on her features all the while.

“Good thing there are consolation prizes,” she says with a tempting, alluring tone, taking you by the wrist and leading you out of the firing range.

---

The fact that there was an actual interrogation going on in the next-door interrogation room was probably the hottest thing about the whole situation.

You notice that the police officer in the cold, sterile room is questioning a heavily tattooed, scary looking dude, but that’s pretty much all the attention you give the scene, given that Park Jihyo was doing her best to distract you.

She distracted you partially with her cute, pretty face, her large, round eyes that seemed like they were always shining with some inner light, making the room brighter just with their presence. Then there was her cute button nose, her wide, blinding smile, and her short haircut that only added to the alluring cute sexiness that she exuded with every movement.

But she mostly distracted you with her breasts.

She was well endowed, it went without saying, easily the largest of the women you’d slept recently. And you were practically drooling with anticipation, as at the moment they were still annoyingly encased in her strapless, white cotton bra, her blue and red checkered cardigan teasingly opened up to reveal her assets to your eager eyes.

Your lips are pressed to her neck, planting soft kisses on her smooth skin that elicit soft gasps from the young detective, and you find yourself happy, not for the first time, that the listening room was completely soundproof to the interrogation room. You move lower with your kisses, bending somewhat awkwardly at the waist now to bring your mouth closer and closer to the prize. You bring your hands up her sides, treasuring the feel of her warm skin beneath your palms as you eventually bring them to her chest and cup her bra-clad breasts.

Jihyo accommodates you by pressing her back up against the soundproof glass. The audacity of the action surprised you - there you were, devouring a young woman just a few feet away from a scary looking interrogation, the occupants of that room completely in the dark as to what was happening in the very next room.

Her back pressed against the glass, you are free to bend your neck further. Jihyo finally lets you have your consolation prize, if indeed this is what it was - she reaches behind her and undoes the latch to her strapless bra, letting the garment fall to the ground, her round, full breasts falling free as they finally escape their cotton prison.

You want to dive in, so to speak, but Jihyo pushes you back by your shoulders until you fall into the chair in the listening room. She straddles you quickly, and wasting no time, brings her chest to your face.

“Taste me,” she says, the words almost a hiss as they escape her lips.

You do just that, burying yourself quite literally in her breasts, taking her left breast first in your mouth, your tongue swirling over her already hardened nipple. Your left hand captures her right breast in its palm, squeezing the soft flesh gleefully, delighting in the feel of the large mound, happy to experience such a well endowed woman after months of smaller (but no less appealing) chests.

Jihyo leans her head back and lets out a long, low moan that gradually increases in volume as you explore more of her chest and as you deepen the sucking on her nipples. You switch after awhile, your mouth descending on her other breast, leaving her other saliva soaked nipple to be squeezed and fondled by your palm.

Momo was probably the next well endowed woman you’d been with, her breasts round and in perfect scale with the rest of her fit, slim body - but Jihyo was in another league entirely, her breasts large without being comically so, her nipples absolutely delicious, your tongue delighting in their pebbly hardness with each suck and stroke against the sensitive buds. You wanted to bury your face in her warm flesh, and you do just that, tearing your mouth from her nipple to press your face in her cleavage, delighting in the feel of her warm flesh on either cheek.

“You like my tits?” Jihyo says, although you both knew the answer.

“Fuck yes,” you answer, your voice muffled, rather pleasantly, by warm breasts.

“I’ll make you love them,” she answers, and you tingle with anticipation as Jihyo takes control, lifting herself from her straddling position until she is kneeling between your knees. Even as she looks up at you with those large, innocent looking eyes of hers, she is unbuckling your belt and hooking her fingers into your waistband, pulling your jeans and the boxers you are wearing underneath them down your hips, until they are down past your knees.

She immediately takes you into her mouth; without warning, without teasing. Other girls relished that few minutes of teasing, taking things slowly, working you with their hands and the tips of their tongues, making you squirm, making you wait, painfully, for them to take you into their mouth.

But Jihyo is not one of those girls, and as she continues to take you in and out of her wet, warm mouth, you thank god that she wasn’t, because you don’t think you could have waited a moment longer for her to begin. She is not as skilled as Seolhyun or Momo, but she makes up for it with sheer enthusiasm, swirling her tongue around your sensitive head and pumping your shaft with her closed fist.

You lean your head back in pleasure. In the interrogation room, things are getting heated, the cop appearing angered by something the gangster has said; little knowing one of his colleagues was in the listening room giving you a blowjob. You would have laughed, if you weren’t sighing out of pleasure.

Jihyo slowly winds down from her blowjob, and as it had only been a minute or so since she began you find yourself disappointed, especially since the pleasure was just beginning to build. But when she straightens her back, you realize why her blowjob was so short.

You know what she is about to do, but it does little to dim the anticipation of what is about to happen, nor does it lessen the pleasure when Jihyo leans forward and, taking each of her breasts in her hands, traps your erect shaft between her large mounds. Slowly, she grinds her chest against your pelvis, your slick shaft pumping in and out between her breasts, the saliva from her blowjob providing the perfect amount of lubrication, the head and upper half appearing and disappearing from between mounds of soft, warm flesh.

You are awestruck by the pleasure this brings, if for no other reason than because of the novelty of it - you’d never been with a woman endowed enough to even try this, and while you’d emptied yourself on plenty of womens’ chests after fucking, you’d yet to experience a titjob.

Jihyo tries, mostly in vain, to lick your head as it appears from between her breasts, only succeeding a little bit of the time, but each time her tongue makes contact with your head it sends shocks of pleasure shooting up and down your spine. The novelty, the pleasure, the fact that you were getting a titjob from a beautiful young detective while an interrogation was happening just a few feet away from you, it was a lot to take in, and it quickly became too much.

For long, pleasureable minutes, Jihyo continues to push your rock hard shaft in and out between her warm, slick breasts, her hands squeezing her flesh tightly around your cock, her fingers interlacing at her front to keep your cock from escaping the lovely embrace of her tits. She continues to try to lick the head of your cock sometimes, sometimes letting her head fall back and making eye contact with you through half-lidded, heavy, seductive eyes. It was all too much to handle.

“Fuck, Jihyo, that feels amazing.”

“Mmmmm?” she manages to reply, so absorbed she is in trying to lick your shaft as it appears between her breasts.

“Fuck… you’re gonna make me cum.”

“Then fucking cum,” Jihyo replies, returning her full attention to your pleasure, increasing her pace, squeezing her breasts even tighter around your thrusting shaft as it sinks and reappears from between her soft flesh mounds. She pumps her chest up and down faster, grinding her chest against you fast and faster, until you quickly see that edge, that edge from which there is no return.

“Fuck… Jihyo… I’m cumming!”

“Do it! Give me all your cum… give it to me… cum on my face… Cum on me! Cum all over me!”

Your orgasm strikes with the force of a thunderbolt, and you feel every single burst of semen as it erupts from your shaft, the first shot happening while your head was still covered by Jihyo’s breasts, sending hot, warm cum into her cleavage and further lubricating each subsequent thrust. You wonder if she is going to open her mouth to take the rest of your cum, but Jihyo instead leans her face back, letting the rest of your semen splash against her chin and face, the thick liquid spraying all over her cute, innocent features.

You weren’t usually one for giving girls facials, but there was something radically different about Jihyo. Maybe it was the environment, the fact that Jihyo was a law enforcement officer; maybe it was the gravity of the week’s earlier events; maybe it was the novelty, it being your first time receiving a titjob.

Whatever it was, you found yourself staring, awestruck, at Jihyo’s cum stained face as you finish sending your last few small streams of semen onto her chin and her upper chest, her grinding gradually slowing as your orgasm finally subsides.

Jihyo finally lets your shaft escape from her warm, wet cleavage, and she bends low to run her tongue along your shaft from its base to its tip, drawing shivers of sheer pleasure from your post-orgasm cock. She straightens her back, allowing you a perfect view of the semen splayed all over her large breasts, the smooth, perfect skin of her upper chest, and finally, the beautiful, innocent features of her cute face.

Jihyo brings her hands to her wet chest and begins rubbing the cum into her skin, lending it a shiny, slick appearance in the dim light of the listening room.

“It’s a shame you didn’t do better on the range,” she says with a sexiness you didn’t think the innocent young detective capable of.

“Oh yeah?” you manage to ask, “and what would’ve happen if I had done better?”

Jihyo smiles slyly as she captures a stream of dripping semen from her cheek and brings it to her mouth, tasting it as if it were some expensive delicacy at a five star restaurant.

“...All this cum would be in my pussy.”

---

You smile as you watch Jihyo join the other girls in the busy, swanky looking Seoul bar. Choa greets her with a warm hug, the two having worked closely together as they planned the capture of Wendy and Joy. With a warm smile the older girl introduces her to Seolhyun and Jeongyeon, who welcome the young detective warmly with smiles and a tall glass of beer.

A poke on your arm alerts you to Momo’s presence, two drinks in her hands as she offers one to you with a warm smile. You accept, and with a toast of your glasses together, you share your first sip of the evening, relishing the cold, crisp alcohol as it slides down your throats.

“Rough week,” you say, eliciting a smile from Momo.

“I’ll say,” she agrees, “Sooo… did you hit that?”

“Jihyo? No… just boob stuff.”

Momo blushes and almost chokes on her next sip of beer as she gives you a playful punch on the shoulder.

“That’s no fair, I can’t do boob stuff. She’s got an unfair advantage. Was it… a natural advantage?”

“Oh yes, I think so.”

“Dammit. I wish I could do boob stuff,” she says with an exaggerated sad face as she looks down at her own chest.

You smile widely as you wrap your arm around her and kiss her forehead.

“She’s got nothing on you,” you reassure her, leaning down to give her a small peck on the lips. Momo returns your kiss, and the kiss deepens slightly, before Momo breaks it off.

“I’m still, like, super fucking mad at you,” she says, her playful, sarcastic tone betraying the weight of her words, “and one day soon I’m gonna tear you a new one.”

“The Future Me can handle that.”

Momo lets out a snort before composing herself for what she is about to tell you.

“Before things get all drunk and alcohol-y tonight, you should know what the girls and I found while we were sifting through Red Velvet’s data.”

“What’s that?” you ask, taking another sip as you prepare yourself for what Momo is about to tell you.

“We pieced together communication between Wendy and Joy, and apparently their entire plan to trap you and get access to the JYP servers through your login was solely Wendy’s idea, and Irene had no idea it was happening. I guess she wanted to impress Irene with it.”

“So Wendy was a damn snake,” you quip, “no surprise there.”

“That’s not all. We found a message that was sent to Irene minutes before we caught Wendy and Joy. The message must have been what warned Irene in time to manually activate the program that deleted all her data from the server.”

“So it wasn’t automatically triggered when we gained access, like Jeongyeon said?”

“No. Irene actively deleted her data when she got the warning. Someone knew it was happening, and someone let her escape before we caught Wendy.”

“Fuck,” you hiss as you weigh the complications of this revelation, “who could it have been? Did you find out where the message came from?”

“No. Jeongyeon says it could have come from anyone.”

“Even one of us?”

“Even one of us,” Momo echoes, taking a deep sip of her beer in an attempt, perhaps in vain, to ease the implications of what she was saying.

“No. We’ve already been betrayed once. I refuse to believe we have another traitor in our ranks.”

“I don’t want to believe it either. And to be fair, it could be anyone who knew what was happening, not even necessarily one of us. For all we know, it could be someone we aren’t even aware of, someone we don’t even know.”

“That’s scarier,” you admit, and Momo nods in agreement.

You sigh - you had hoped this evening would lend you a small reprieve from the gravity of the past few days, but now you found another weight being added to your worries.

“Hey,” Momo says as she catches on to what you were feeling, “let’s worry about this tomorrow. Future Us can find whoever did this to us, and we’ll catch them just like we caught Wendy and Joy. Then Irene after that.”

You smile, and you find some solace in Momo’s bright smile, finding yourself thankful once more that this wonderful woman was in your life.

“Cheers to that,” you say, sharing a toast with Momo as you both rejoin your colleagues at their table, eager to forget about your worries if even for a single evening.

---

In a dark, mostly empty cafe in downtown Seoul, Bae Irene is meeting with two females.

“Wendy and Joy fucked up and got themselves caught. It’s time for you two to step up.”

The first female lets out a haughty laugh.

“Don’t talk to us like we’re your fucking employees. We’re done with that life,” one of the women answers, “we’ve had our fun. We’ve retired.”

“You’ll come back to it once you realize how much I’ll pay you.”

“What’s wrong with your other members? Seulgi and… what was the other’s name? Yubin? Yerin? Yeri?” says the second female.

“I don’t need them,” Irene hisses, “they’re dead to me now, after what they did to me.”

“This will cost you,” the first woman says.

“SM has deep pockets,” Irene answers.

“What do you want us to do?”

“I want to break JYP,” Irene answers, every syllable cold as steel, “I want to break him.”

[angelkurenai]

Imagine Jake thinking you want to break up with him and are hiding it from him only to realise that the only secret you have is that you’re pregnant.

It had been weeks, if not months, of it all. Months preparations. Months of brainstorming. Months of inspiration, writing and synthesizing and recording. Months in the studios, behind cameras, in front of cameras, recording and singing. Months of worries and nerves and anxiety and some tears of frustration. Months of... love, though, too.

Months of staying in bed till the late hours of the morning, till noon very often, with you in his arms as he hurried to write down the next lyrics that came in your mind. Months a sweet mess of kissing, loving, tender touches as he expressed how proud of you he was and admiring you – and if he took a bit of extra pleasure in the way your cheeks turned different shades of red in the meantime then he was guilty. Months spent listening to your singing, prying you to sing those songs you kept a secret from him because you insisted were a surprise, the giddy feeling in his heart growing as did his pride once more – and if he took a bit extra pleasure in it that you had written songs specifically for him then guilty again he was but he'd gladly admit it, say it to the rest o the world, that it was all for him.

It had been months and it all passed in what felt like a blink of an eye. Your album, the fifth in a row, had taken longer than the previous ones to come out because of how hard things had been for you. Jake didn't like to think that it was on him, but he hoped and prayed that he had played some part in helping you stand on your feet again. Even if it was in the slightest – and your songs, which you had clearly admitted were for him even though he had not listened to all of them yet, confirmed that – it was to day the biggest achievement in his life. He was in a way part of the album himself and part of you as he enjoyed the love your fans all around the world showered it and you with.

There was not a single thing about it all that did not make his heart soar. That is, except for the part of a video which he was currently watching with his heart sinking deeper and deeper with each word.

I know you're thinking I'm heartless I know you're thinking I'm cold I'm just protecting my innocence I'm just protecting my soul

It took him a couple seconds, in between the wonderful beat, your captivating voice and stunning looks which he couldn't get enough of – the way you radiated, pure happiness written all over your face with your smile brighter than it had ever been at the beginning of the video – he had almost missed the lyrics. He had not heard the song before, so he guessed it had to be new and one of those you had kept a secret from him.

I'm never gonna let you close to me Even though you mean the most to me 'Cause every time I open up, it hurts So I'm never gonna get too close to you Even when I mean the most to you In case you go and leave me in the dirt

And that was not the kind of sweet, loving lyrics he had imagined. You were not one to write the kind of love songs he could easily find all around, but there were always true emotions into your songs and the lyrics, the music and your singing always managed to convey that. It was so unlike that now.

As was the way he felt.

But every time you hurt me, the less that I cry And every time you leave me, the quicker these tears dry And every time you walk out, the less I love you Baby, we don't stand a chance, it's sad but it's true I'm way too good at goodbyes (I'm way too good at goodbyes)

The lump in his throat felt almost painful. He couldn't swallow and his lungs were protesting because of the lack of air but he couldn't find it in himself to take a breath in or let a breath out. It felt like if he dared even part his lips any moment now a sob would break through and it would really be the worst time possible. Not to mention it would be irrational or even worse stupid. You would certainly think so if you saw him react like this. It was stupid, the more he thought of it, to be so affected by a song in this way, to feel like his heart was breaking slowly but surely with each second passing by as if you had told him straight in his face that things weren't right between the two of you anymore. It was just a song, there was no reason for him to react the way he was and as grown adults talking it out was what should be done, he knew it, yet... the mere thought of it made him feel more nauseous than listening to the song. You always wrote about what you felt, what you were thinking or going through. Even if he wanted to believe that this was the happiest moment of your life, your song didn't really say the same.

Even more, scarily so, the fact that it was your relationship that was the reason behind such a song only verified his fears that you wanted to leave him. It made him dizzy.

At least pausing it luckily managed to calm down his shakily beating heart and the echo in his ears, even if the rush of blood still felt too loud. No more so than the scary jump his heart did at the prospect of talking with you. He'd have to, he knew it, even if the prospect filled him with dread.

He realised that he would but only when the time was right, he didn't have to rush into it. He could think things through and maybe even, funnily enough, when he got a sign that it was the right moment he'd talk with you about it. Hopefully that sign would take forever to come though, a small part of his hoped so. Just because he knew he should didn't mean he was ready to, more fear creeping in at the possibility that that talk would be the perfect opportunity for you to end it for good.

So it was fair to say, he nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a fluffy pillow make contact with his face, only to hear your laughter following soon afterwards.

“And here I thought that the whole thing was a joke. Does a woman have to get naked to get her man's attention after all?” you scoffed, seriously yet with a look of playfulness on your face that didn't seem to register in his mind “Shame, Gyllenhaal, I thought you were different. You used to not be able to take your eyes off me even when I was in my old sweats. Maybe I'll have to reconsider about how perfect out relationship really is.”

“I uh- I'm not- It's not wh- I was only-” the wrong choice of words as well as the timing had him scrambling for words. What could he really say? He could take this for a sign but he felt like the situation was far from right – if not he was far from prepared – to speak about it.

You spared him the effort though when you laughed and leaned over the bed to peck his lips “You're so fun to mess with, you know. So, aren't you gonna tell me what you've been up to? Or I could get naked to make you say it, though you know that'll be more of a torture for you than fun. Your choice.”

He could get lost in your eyes and the way they were sparkling with mischief, your grin was almost always intoxicating. But at the very moment, despite how much he wanted to get drunk in you, the small voice in the back of his head brought him back to the harsh reality faster and more shockingly than a bucket of ice cold water being dumped on him.

“No” he forced a smile on his lips, praying it look believable enough “I don't think there's any need for that. In fact I-” he let a small breath as he got up and made his way towards you.

You paused mid-movement, in the process of changing clothes, frowning when he wrapped his arms around you and buried his face in the crook of your neck. He took a deep breath in and squeezed your middle, only to make your smile fade a bit.

“I think I like this better.” he mumbled against your skin before after a few long seconds he pulled away to stare into your eyes “It's been a long time since we've had this. In complete silence that is. In peace.”

“You know I would never complain but... didn't you have plans for today already?” you asked slowly, placing your handson his chest.

“I... know. But I could just cancel. It's your first day off after the album came out and all the singing that...” he paused, bringing a hand up to trace his fingers over your cheek with a touch light as a feather. He tried not to think that this could be one of the last times he did this, tried not to think that he was actually memorizing your features in case tomorrow was the last he saw of you. “I don't want to walk out on you.” the words came rushing out of his lips before he could stop it “I- I never want it, even when I do so. I almost hate myself those times, I want you to know that.”

“I do but-” you shrugged, avoiding his eyes because you both knew that with both of your careers in the way, you had lost many opportunities and important moments other couples could so easily have “I'm alright with it, I'm used to it. I don't have a problem with you walking out.” you emphasized as if quoting him. You meant it to lighten the mood but his frown only deepened.

“That doesn't mean you should have to.” he whispered, forehead leaning against yours “But that's all my fault, I am the only one to blame. These past months we've been together all the time and that only because of work, in a way, and it shouldn't have been so. We should just be close like this without anything in our mind for once. Just like when we first got together. Who knows... for how long we can have that.”

“Jake, honey-” you blinked, pulling slightly away and for a moment he felt the fear and doubts creep up again. What if all this clinging had the exact opposite effect? What if it made you want to end this even sooner? It made Jake feel his throat close up again, as if he was choking on thin air but it was probably his own tears threatening to break free along with a sob or two for sure.

“...alright, because you're making me worry here. Is there something you want to tell me?” it took him a couple secondsto realise he had zoned out.

“No, no.” he finally choked out, the task of speaking seeming so difficult but tone instead of reassuring you seemed to have the exact opposite effect of making you frown even more. Instead of saying anything else or letting you question it, he tightened his hold on you and brought you in closer. He took in the moment, savoring the feeling of you in his arms, of breathing in your scent, of feeling your warmth.

“Everything's just fine. It will be just fine.” he whispered, but he didn't know if it was more to himself or you. The small voice in his head that was so scared calmed only momentarily.

“Alright, if... if you don't want to, if you're not ready for that yet, I can wait.” you whispered hesitantly “If it's not easy to open up about it yet... I'm alright with this.”

Keeping secrets. The thought made him wince. That was surely what you believed and he wanted to kick himself for it. In just a couple seconds, with every attempt to make things better, he had managed to make things even worse.

“No, no baby-” he put on a smile as he pulled away, the laughing almost hurting him but thankfully it sounded believable “It's not that I don't want to open up to you. It's just that there's nothing wrong going on, honestly. I only realized how little time we've been spending together and thought it's time I changed that. We could be closer than what we already are, right? There's nothing wrong with that, with opening up and-” he shrugged “Trusting each other. You know you don't have to protect yourself all on your own, I could do that for you too.”

“I- Of course I know that, where did all this come from Jake? You really don't sound like yourself today, you know that? I- I want to believe it's alright but this is... confusing me. And you-” you paused abruptly, almost too abruptly as you tried to keep your eyes from widening but it was already too late “You- Hon, Jake, you didn't... find anything did you?”

“Find anything?” he frowned “Like what? Should I have come across something?”

“N-n-no” you said shakily, avoiding his eyes “Of course not. And it's not like I have something to tell you either. Nothing at all.” you laughed nervously “I only asked because, well, I'm just wondering, if you came across something that I didn't know of. Something new o- or something that-”

“You tried to keep hidden from me?” he asked almost playfully, for the first time managing to completely forget the song. But despite thinking that it would make you laugh, it only managed to make you more nervous.

“No” you said a little too fast “Of course not. It's not like I have any secrets from you, you know that.” you avoided his eyes “If anything-” you cleared your throat “That's more like your thing today.”

“We'll talk about it, promise.” he leaned in to kiss your cheek, his lips lingering a moment too long.

“So there is something?” you asked softly but he still insisted to shake his head.

“No. No there's not.” he could take the opportunity but he wasn't ready for it. Even if he knew that all these moments shared between you could easily be the last ones shared, that they could even be not fully heartfelt, he was going to pretend they were true. “I was also thinking, when was the last time we took a bath together? Just what we need right now to relax. I couldn't think of anything better.”

“Ah so you were planning on getting me naked.” you said with a smile, his finally must have been believable enough. Despite his own feelings, he couldn't help but chuckle a bit at your playfulness that he wished so bad was real. “Fair enough, since I get to have you naked too. Though I'll prep the bath, you're the worst at it honey. With all the love. But you can chose the music.”

You knew you said it almost too fast but you couldn't risk it, especially as you pulled away from him to make your way to the bathroom, but you couldn't risk it.

“Fine by me as long as...” he bit his lower lip in thought “You don't mind hearing to yourself sing the whole time. The new album came out perfect and you know I love he songs...” he could stop there he knew he could but he didn't and he didn't know if he would end up regretting it or not, but he had to “Even the ones you kept a secret as a surprise from me.”

“Oh so I'm guessing you heard to a new one today. Well, I'd love to hear your thoughts later. But for now, I'll make only one request and then you can put on any song you want to.” you let the water flow as you searched for your favorite bottle of shampoo, hearing a hum come from him “Try 'Too good at goodbyes' by Sam Smith. I've got that song stuck in my head ever since I did the cover for BBC Radio 1, I swear. More than the songs I wrote myself, despite how sad it is sometimes.”

The words poured out of your lips without a second thought really, too busy pouring the last bits of the liquid that were left in the bathtub before moving to throw the bottle away. Only to stop midmovement when you heard a loud... crushing sound? You couldn't make it out, you could swear you also heard a groan as well. It was soon followed by hurrying steps towards the bathroom where a frantic Jake appeared, eyes wide and breath stuck in his chest.

“Wha- Whose song did you just say?”

“Sam Smith's...?” you said a bit hesitantly “The song may not be the best for sweet couple moments but it's just constantly on my mind for some reason. But then I'll sing all the love songs you want from me, honey, promise. Why though? I don't get- Do you have a problem with that? Don't like his songs or something?”

“No, he's a great. He's- I didn't think you- With all the new songs, I thought- I wasn't- It wasn't yours. I believed- I heard-” he blinked rapidly, his eyes moving away from you as countless thought ran through his mind, until of course all thoughts were also thrown right out of the window and his mind filled with a buzzing wide and his heart jumped to his throat “Uh (Y/n). What's- What's that?”

Your eyes followed his eyes towards the open trashcan and they widened as you realised you were in the exact situation you had been trying to avoid. It was just your luck it was entirely empty save for, well, that.

“Is-” he got closer, taking a better look, and this time actually asking instead of making wrong assumptions or torturing himself any further “Is that yours?”

The song may have not been yours, but the positive pregnancy test certainly was.

[depths-of-hope-and-despair]

Doubts

The next day, Aditi opted to clear her conscience by planning for the future. The next few days, she could visit Hajime and talk out her concerns. The Trifle situation was... more difficult. She paced outside her sister’s door for.. hours it felt like. In reality, it was only five minutes of hyping herself up, only to chicken out and speed walk back to her room. Her brain being so busy with ideas and studying dreams means she felt exhausted by the end of the day. Enough to fall asleep normally instead of with alcohol.

She suspected these dreams in her sleep was a form of self-analysis. That Albert was merely a character that existed in her head, that she could use to learn about herself. But, his reactions were independent of her? That wouldn’t make much sense. Least to say, when the dream blurred into her vision, she was the first to speak this time. “Do you exist independently from these dreams?” She blurred out without giving a second to consider waiting.

“Good day to you too.” Albert responded without the usual bravado, reading through the notebook he had been writing in the whole time, clapping it shut again, the usual smile appearing back on his face as he responded casually: “I don’t see how this is relevant to our progression, Aditi. If we were here to smalltalk and dilly dally, I would have met you in a cafe.”

He smirked a little as he remarked: “Dilly dallying is quite the entertaining word, don’t you think?” He chuckled to himself as he opened a drawer in his desk, procuring some papers, eyes roaming over them.

“You’re as humorous as you are straightforward, Doctor.” Aditi muttered in annoyance.

“For today I thought we could do a little personality test. Nothing too intrusive, it is just there to distinguish your basic characteristics, like punctuality, empathy, introversion or extraversion etcetera etcetera, you can also choose not to answer if you are not comfortable. All of these questions can be responded with ‘yes’ or ‘no’, you do not need to elaborate in any way.”

Aditi folded her arms together, much like a pouting child and rolled her eyes. She figured that questioning him any further was a dead end at this point. He was fair too cryptic and waffling to let her in on secrets. With a disappointed huff, she nodded to give her agreement to the test.

He wrote Aditi’s name on the paper and then read some of the questions to her:

“When I see someone crying, I feel the urge to hug them and try to make them feel better.”

“I often miss public transportation.”

“You can find me at the club every Friday night.”

“Family is extremely important to me.”

“I need social interactions every day to function.”

“I like to try out new things.”

The first, made her pause. Did she feel the need to hug or comfort anyone she saw crying? The answer was no. Crying only immediately provoked curiosity in her. Her sympathy pains only seemed to be accessible only with her loved ones. People she knew, and already could appreciate. Both being true, her choice was to stay neutral. “No answer.”

The second was simple. The few times she relied on public transportation, she was never late. Rather she stressed about being early. “No.”

The third took no time either. Easily assumed, she was a wallflower, and hardly ever had fun at parties. Unless illegal means were involved. “No.”

Family. The ones she chose as family, yes. Celia? Trifle? Knifu? The first name, no. The second.. yes? And the third was yes. So, she decided to follow suit. “Yes.”

Did she need to interact with someone everyday? No. She went without it for years being raised by Celia. “No.”

Trying new things? Adventure. Discovery. Absolutely. “Yes.”

He nodded along to her answers, occasionally looking down to jot the right square, a smirk edging on his face at the attitude Aditi was giving him. “Are you doubting my measures? Just wait for it. By the end of this test you might be surprised by how much more I know about you. I’ll just need a day to properly evaluate it.”

Amusement was edging on his face, a weird static atmosphere starting to fill the office as he continued with his questions, making sure his voice was clear so there wouldn’t be misunderstandings.

Aditi stared back defiantly, clearly not buying his claim. Answering a few questions with yes or no wasn’t nearly enough to get an idea of what that person was like. The static noise and atmosphere didn’t phase her outside of a more narrowed sharp gaze. He continued:

“I regularly go on holidays.”

“I suffer from thoughts that don’t seem to be my own.”

“I don’t understand social cues often.”

“I have a hard time imagining myself in someone else's shoes.”

“I feel the urge to physically harm people that have done me wrong.” His eyes flicked up to her for a moment to see her reaction.

Regular holidays? That referred to taking breaks and enjoying the company of others, didn’t it? “Yes.” She nodded.

Hear thoughts that aren’t her own? She remembered struggling with this since childhood, even before Celia. “Yes.”

Social cues. At first, she struggled with them desperately. Nowadays? She was fair better at reading the room, but not too comfortable to call herself an expert. “Yes.”

This one was easy. A perspective empathy question. She often exorcised her ability to relive the memories of others, in order to gain more empathy for them. While it was intrusive, it was the fastest way to understand. “No.”

The last question caused some amount of discomfort. She clearly didn’t like the question. But she disliked her answer even more so. “... Yes.” She admitted, glancing away while doing so.

His grin widened at her answers, quickly writing down the answers and reassuring her. “You‘re doing great. Don’t worry, we are almost done...” He flipped the page, a soft singing was audible, so quiet it could almost be missed. It sounded like a little girl singing a nursery rhyme, but in another language, so it wasn’t sure what she was singing.

When he talked, it sounded like multiple voices, hushed whispers accompanying him like backup singers, but the man himself didn’t pay it any mind, continuing as if nothing weird was going on.

“I wish that I had more friends than I actually have.”

“I feel the urge to harm people for no clear reason.”

“I feel scared of what the future holds for me.”

“I feel guilty.”

“I feel disliked by people around me.”

“Get out of here.”

His voice was very quiet compared to the whispers that were accompanying him, maybe those weren’t actually the questions he was asking and just the whispers, but he looked at Aditi expectantly. The whispers were still audible, telling Aditi to leave.

Aditi listened to the whispers and singing combining together into a whirl of madness. It was much like a nightmare, one of the standard ones that showed anxiety in others. People could hear voices of disdain talking to them mostly when they themselves felt judged by others. None of this triggered her into a breakdown thankfully, only medical themes or visions of past mistakes caused her to falter. While unnerved, she pressed forward, eyes narrowing in response to his encouragement.

Did she want more friends? She has been told many times that she isn’t easy to approach, and when she takes initiative that can turn poorly as well. Part of her wishes was that she looked more inviting. “Yes.”

A desire to harm others for no reason. Generally, no. She didn’t want to hurt people without reason. Only when she lost control did she feel that impulse. Of course, she considered herself a sadist to an extent also. Those factors made this question difficult to answer. “No answer.”

Scared of the future? Who isn’t scared of the future? Of the unknown? It’s only natural to feel that way, right? “Yes.”

Guilty. She barely had to think of her answer. “Yes.”

Does she feel disliked? That’s strange too. Her whole life, she was surrounded by people who wanted to kill her, or adored her. The laboratory experiment children would’ve gladly watched her drop dead. The cultist would’ve given their lives for her. Only now was there a happy medium. But... the bitterness of the past wouldn’t let her see on the brighter side. “Yes.”

“Very good, Aditi. You are doing great. We are almost done actually.“ He jotted more stuff down, his expression looking a little off from just a few seconds ago.

“I just have 5 more questions for you and then we can end tonight’s session.“ he informed her, turning the Page, fingers tightening around the paper and crumpling it lightly. He opened his mouth, but suddenly his voice was completely gone. It was like he got muted, in his place the whispers filling the room. He still held eye contact, though it was more like he was looking through Aditi, something clearly on his mind. And instead of the questions she heard:

“I’m sorry this is all my fault.”

“You don’t deserve this.”

“It should have never come to this.”

“He’s hunting you. He’s a monster.”

“Get out of here.”

His mouth closed again and he looked at Aditi expectantly, waiting for her answers. He looked less worried and more hopeful now, a giddy glint in his eerie eyes.

While shutting out the instructive thoughts was easy enough when she could hear a voice over them. Now? No. It wasn’t easy at all. Not easy to stare straight again. Not easy to keep from flinching every time the voice asked a question. Not easy to hold her neutral gaze. It reminded her all too much of how it felt to lose control. To be consumed by despair. Her thoughts no longer being her own, only whispers and taunts, keeping her at bay, pulling her down to let her instincts do all of the work. Her head felt.. fuzzy. Aditi felt similarly at this moment. Her lips curled into an uncomfortable scowl. What the hell is this? It hadn’t been nearly this unsettling the other times they spoke. What was getting in the way?

Or.. was this the plan all along? To earn her trust more, only to make the dreams devolve into hellish nightmares? She sincerely hoped that wasn’t the case.

The whispers suddenly stopped as he opened his mouth again, asking Aditi: “Are you alright, Aditi? You look a bit pale.“

Something really didn’t want this session to continue. But if the doctor noticed, he did a good job at hiding it.

“..... I couldn’t hear your questions.” She admitted quietly, her eyes shifting around the room carefully. “Voices spoke over you. Whether they were in my head or not, I’m uncertain. They are...” She paused once again, thinking over if she should be honest or not in this situation. Ultimately, she decided against lying. “They are.. apologizing to me? Saying I do not deserve this. It should’ve never come to this? He, whoever that is, seems to be hunting me. He is a monster? They are.. telling me to leave..”

He regarded her, expression serious as he listened to Aditi, contemplating something for a few seconds, then ultimately sighing. He looked around the room again, as if he could make out the voices and silence them, ultimately deciding to try and explain: “It is probably your subconsciousness running wild from stress...“

He set the test aside, leaning forward to give Aditi a comforting touch. It was cold as ice.

“Let us end the session a little early, alright? You don’t need to answer those questions. I’ll just review the test without them.“ he reassured her, a sad glint in his eyes.

“Orabelle.”

The voices were a lot quieter now, but it was probably for the better to end this meetup earlier to start better off on the last one.

“Rest easy, Aditi. I’ll see you tomorrow.“

Aditi didn’t understand. She sat with shifting eyes, looking left to right like a frightened child. It made her feel weak for her emotions to be easily sensed or stated. It felt wrong to hear her dead name be spoken aloud in her ear, so wrong that it caused her to flinch back and fumble. Her eyes narrowed so angrily at the voice, she nearly forgot to take his hand. “... This was a mistake..” Her grip on his hand was uncomfortably tight now, she seemed to seethe with contempt.

This only happened after she put faith in him and gave away sensitive information about her past. She thought it was of little consequence, yet here it was... being shoved in her face. Taunting her. This being was taunting her, wasn’t he? Mocking her. Before she could convey her distrust, the dream had faded away like the smoke of fireworks.

[one-leaf-grimoire]

“triad”

Chapter 19: the day of judgement

Only warning is MAJOR MANGA SPOILERS hehe but also after this chapter, this is diverging from canon so strap in.

AO3 link

“It’s not very fair, is it?”

“Hmm?”

The waves crashed upon the rocks, breaking into a harsh white mist. The short coastline quickly gave way to a mighty mountain range, shielding them from whatever lay inland. 

“You get to come out here and enjoy the sea, while your family is forced to stay inside. Why don’t you let them come out sometime? As a little ‘vacation’ or something.”

The sea roared. It howled in some strange language, almost like a taunt.

“Ah… I see. Well, they aren’t missing much. This place is cold and wet… the sun never shines. In our old home, there was nothing but blue skies and sparkling sea. This really can’t compare.”

At long last, the man who squatted by the edge rose to his full height. His robe rippled around him in the wind, but in an oddly controlled movement. His hair, pulled back out of his face into a ponytail, let a few stray strands out to dance in the gale, leaving the mark in the middle of his forehead exposed. He was a man in the image of serenity; but Morris had a feeling that he wasn’t really a man at all.

“I feel like I should be a little insulted, Mikal.” Morris shook his head before looking out at the horizon again, a little smile on his face. “This is my home, after all.”

“You don’t love it though, do you?” Mikal finally looked over at the man, his eyes narrowing slightly despite the smile still etched into his youthful features. “You don’t love anything, Morris.”

Mikal was unusual in many ways. Well, this whole situation was unusual. Almost 80 years ago, the Simulcians were driven from their home after a natural disaster. The remaining survivors were just Mikal, his parents, and his four older siblings. They fled to the shores of their only ally: the Diamond Kingdom, where they agreed to lend their power to the military in exchange for a private colony on the coast. This was long before Morris was even born. After making his way into the Royal Science Department, Morris was assigned to the Simulcian outpost, and was surprised to see that their numbers had risen dramatically. The group of seven was now going on 30. Mikal gladly let Morris into their tower to show him his work. New Simulcians were bred artificially from his parents’ cells, and then they were kept in “safety tanks” until they were 18 years old. Then… they were synchronized.

Morris barely understood what it meant to be “synchronized.” The Diamond Kingdom had been familiar with the “Dyad,” a bond between two people which shared/combined their mana, for years. But Mikal somehow managed to create other bonds as well: A tetrad between four people, and a septad between seven people. Morris had no idea what Mikal was trying to do, but something about it was oddly… ominous. 

No… Mikal would never let his family outside. He would never let them out of their tanks, or their links. He trapped them in that prison forever.

Did Mikal truly love them? 

“Maybe you’re right…” Morris finally replied. “Although, not entirely… maybe I don’t love anyone, but there are some things I love. How could I not…” He turned his gaze away from the sea and back towards the mountains. “I was born blind, you know... I had to fight hard to find a way to see. And now…” His glasses glinted in the overcast light. “I have the whole world at my disposal.”

“Hm… I wonder what you’ll do with it.”

Something about Mikal’s words sent a shiver up Morris’s spine. Neither of them could have known it now, but oh… the things Morris would do. The world really would be at his disposal.

But today, they were just two men standing on the rocks. Well… a man and something close to a man, at least.

“Tell me… when you finish whatever it is you’re planning, what’s going to happen?” Mikal raised an eyebrow at Morris’s words, but Morris could see right through his innocence. “I know it’ll be big… whatever it is, you’ve spent nearly a century getting ready.”

“Who says I have anything planned?”

Morris gave Mikal a long look. 

Finally, Mikal let out a long sigh. He stretched an arm over his shoulder leisurely before turning to look back out at sea. “Well… maybe I do. But would you really like to know? I’ll tell you if you promise to stop being so nosy.”

Nosy? That’s ironic, coming from you. Morris nodded his head though, eager to hear Mikal out.

“Well… it’s a little complicated.” Mikal crossed his arms. “You know the Goddess we worship, yea?”

“Oh… yeah.” Morris wracked his brain. “Simon?”

“Simulcia,” Mikal corrected. “Simulcia was a goddess of fate… her magic could pin down destiny as she pleased.”

“Pin down?”

“Fate is like the ocean. It’s like a rippling fabric in the wind. But Simulcia threw pins out over that fabric-” Mikal motioned his hand as an example. “Where each one landed… fate itself was fastened to that spot. Just a few points in time and space… that is the Dyad. My parents, those before them… and maybe those after them. Although, if everything goes according to plan, I doubt there will ever be another Dyad. But that’s not my decision to make. That pin has yet to fall, and I cannot stop it if it's destined to.”

Morris was barely following at this point, but slowly but surely started to understand. The power to manipulate fate itself? How strange. So, because of actions long ago, there are certain aspects of our future that cannot be changed? “What does that have to do with your plan?”

“You see… things have changed. Simulcia is long dead. The only way to access her consciousness is by linking up with other Simulcians. We were never meant to be separated. Our true state is together. Mikal weaved his fingers together. “But like I said, we’ve strayed from that path. We made contact with humans after millenia of isolation, and we changed. We’re becoming more like you… We no longer wish to be together. Maybe there’s some kind of value in our independence, but it is against Simulcia’s will.”

A spark of anger slipped through Mikal’s eyes, barely visible among his pitch black gaze.

“Humans… they want to drive us apart. I didn’t want that to happen. So… I will force Simulcia’s will upon everyone.”

…

…

…

Morris wasn’t sure why he walked away that day. Without asking Mikal more. He never asked again, and for some reason he didn’t try to stop whatever it was Mikal was trying to do. In any case, 20 years later, Mikal and his whole family disappeared without a trace, and a new Dyad was created in the Clover Kingdom.

Simulcia’s will?

Is that… why Simulcians exist? To enact her will?

But, in the end, wasn’t Simuclia’s will already enacted? In the form of fate?

What more is there to do… we are all slaves to fate.

At least, that’s what Morris thought. The years passed, and the shape of his life squirmed and bent until it was unrecognizable. He took sight, he took power, he took knowledge… and he put it into his own hands. And now, the power of three devils dwelled within him as well.

Simulcia is dead… That much I know.

Morris gazed up at the tree as it grew. Its branches cracked and groaned under their own enormous weight. Fueled by the two men trapped within their coffins, it towered up and up, breaking through the ceiling as it reached for the sky.

Fate is dead. The only two people bound to it now are the Dyads. 

The castle rumbled as the fighting intensified. But Morris paid it no mind. He just stood there, his hands in his pockets, and stared up at the spectacle with two stolen eyes.

Now, we create the fate of the world with our own hands. And its fate is the Qliphoth. 

An unearthly sound spread out over the scene, screams and creaks and a shrill, descending howl.

That’s it then… the first gate has opened. The dark triad will be up to 100% soon. The rebels are busy with the demon we released, and soon… the Clover Kingdom will know the wrath of the other.

This time, there will be no one to save the world. 

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

Except, maybe there was. 

This time, my path leads north. Wind and rain and a dull rush of air course around my body as I take flight, my eyes watering slightly from the pressure. But it doesn’t matter; I keep flying.

Despite how overcast the day is, the sun is shining once again within my heart. Hope, love, joy, they all live there, and I can’t help but smile as I zoom towards what I hope will be the final battle of my life. Any wish to become a martyr, any wish to start over, any wish to give up everything, is gone. All that pumps through my veins is the determination to win and to live.

Because, now I know that there is still something to live for.

Adeline, Marx, Joy, all my friends and family, they all deserve to see a brighter future. A future that I will create, not through destruction, but through hope. 

All I have to do is win this fight, save Yami and William, then go home to the family I can still salvage.

My final days, I’ll spend them with Adeline and Joy. That’s the only way it should be. Maybe I’ve committed sins that I will never atone for, but I still deserve to be happy in those final days.

BOOM.

I’m suddenly pulled from my thoughts as a loud sound bellows through the air. Almost like thunder, but deeper, a sound that rattles the very earth. I slow down a little, then look to the side. My breath freezes in my chest for a brief moment as I see what it is: a giant, unearthly creature, higher than the tallest mountain. It has scraggly, thin wings that arch up over its body, and three glowing eyes in its head. 

No… it can’t be…

It is none other than the creature of legend, a giant demon god. It ignores everything as it trudges forward slowly, just passing over the border of the Grand Magic region when I reach it. There are towns and settlements ahead that it will surely trample, but its glowing eyes are fixed on the tiny hill in the distance, the hill that holds the capitol, the castle, and the king.

There’s a couple of reasons that it could be here, but the most likely one is that the Spade Kingdom somehow summoned and released it here to cause as much damage as possible. But in the end, it doesn’t matter why it’s here.

All that matters is that it must be stopped.

The fear, running like ice in my veins, starts to melt as both my hands heat up. Without another thought, I make a sharp turn in the air, and instead head right towards the horrible beast.

There’s not a second to lose… 

I clench my fist, to keep my hand from shaking, but also to concentrate mana there. I release it in waves, traveling out and down my arm and into that fist. With a spark, it bursts into intense blue flame, numerals already spiraling around it. 

All this magic… all this power. Only part of it is mine.

I squint my eyes a little, speeding up. One of the demon’s eyes catches onto my form.

Julius… and Patri. I can feel both of your wills within me.

Julius, who I loved, and Patri, who I thought I hated.

No… not hated.

Despite the memories of those horrible moments flooding back, I smile. Because, in the end, they both give me the strength to fight today. 

But it’s not just them.

A crown glints upon my head, and a robe flares out behind me as I fly. For the first time in my life, they aren’t heavy. For the first time in my life, I feel like I deserve them.

I… I am the Wizard King! 

Light starts to spark around my hand as I draw it back, charging up magic. The light starts to shine brighter and brighter, like the sun inching up and up over the horizon, bathing the world with warmth. With hope.

And for that reason, I have to protect my Kingdom. 

The Demon turns its head toward me, opening its gaping, toothy mouth. An orb of demonic energy crackles within its maw, getting ready to shoot out at me with all its power. The sight of it does nothing to hurt my composure, and I open my own mouth to let out a yell. It spurs me on, and my body rockets towards the beast faster than I’ve ever managed before.

For that reason, I will protect this WORLD!

I swing my fist, and finally release my first triple-attribute spell.

With a flash of light like a supernova, my fist connects. For a moment, there is no sound, but I can feel the entire world vibrate within my chest. 

The demon’s head basically implodes, its three eyes bursting apart as it’s hit. It doesn’t have time to roar or shriek; the ball of energy within it collapses, and it gets blown back across the border into the strong magic region. Its bottom half is still intact, and the trunklike feet BOOM once, then twice, then one last time as it stumbles backwards. Then, it falls, almost in slow motion.

But by this point, I am long gone. The dust from the impact billows up behind me as I just keep flying, making a beeline to the Spade Kingdom. The sound of the fall was enough to confirm my kill, and there isn’t a second more to lose. I don’t look back, just keep my eyes on the next objective ahead.

Yami and William, I’ll save you, no matter what!

The snowy peaks beneath me are a blur, my eyes clouded by both adrenaline and the light that shines from them. My whole body feels like it's on fire, the thrill of that moment still coursing through me. Acceptance and determination cycles around each other, fueling my flight further and further. I’m not sure what I will find across the border, but whatever it is, I am ready to take it on.

My duty is to win, and to survive! 

A few minutes later, something shifts in the atmosphere. Like a magnet, an unseen force tugs at my body, no, at my soul. My eyes widen a little when I realize what it is. 

Something… is pulling my mana in.

Then, I see it: the capital of Spade, almost completely destroyed by a sprawling mess of branches. I can feel the unnerving energy coming off of the wood already; this is no tree that exists in our world. This is the Qliphoth. There’s other presences here too- sending a familiar chill up my spine.

Devils…

But, according to Nacht, the first gate wasn’t supposed to be open yet? Did they have some way to accelerate the growth?

It doesn’t matter.

I clench my fist again, summoning more mana to replace that which was being sucked in by the tree. 

I’ll end it now, today. No more gates will be opened. And even if they do…

The black mark upon my forehead tingles slightly, almost familiarly.

I will beat them.

Right at the moment I summoned more mana, it was felt simultaneously by everyone below.

Nacht’s eyes widened as he stared ahead at the two twin Devils standing before him. No way… you fool! He wanted to look back towards the sky, but he couldn’t take his eyes off his foes, not now that the situation had turned so dire. You’re just going to get yourself killed… there’s no way you’re in any condition to fight!

Maybe that was the case. Maybe even moving was draining away my life faster than I could afford. But nothing will stop me from moving.

Morris’s smile falls for just a moment. He turns slowly to look up through the cracks in the ceiling. The tree… it’s responding to a great source of mana… incoming…

Then, he smiled.

This… this may be exactly what we need. It all depends on you three…

At that exact moment, those “three” sensed me as well. From three different sections of the castle, wings of blood, wings of bone, and wings of flesh unfurled. Three pairs of eyes, crazed and fueled by the new surge of power within them, turned towards the sky.

“Finally…”

“How exciting!”

“I didn’t think we would meet on the battlefield…”

Dante’s sharp, elongated teeth curled into a malicious grin as he retracted his power from Jack, who he had been pummeling a moment ago. Lucifero’s power was up to 100% now, and he was ready to fight anything and everything he could. Morris assured them before this that the Wizard King would be out of commission, but here she was, very much alive, heading right towards him.

Right into the palm of his hand.

With a loud, evil laugh, Dante shot up and away from the battle, towards the source of the presence. A strike from his fist burst right through the ceiling and let him escape into the cold night air. As soon as he was out, Dante looked to his left and right, spotting his siblings, who had the same idea. Vanica’s face was twisted into a sadistic grin, but Zenon remained composed; While Dante and Vanica had fun on their minds, Zenon was evaluating the very serious consequences that might come from their actions.

The tree reacted to her mana, I felt it too. If we can let it suck up more and more from her-

It’s right then that I spot the trio heading towards me, black shadow streaming in their wake. That’s them! That’s the Dark Triad! My heart skips a beat, and I let my Grimoire flip open once again. It starts to glow, and power starts to accumulate in the palm of my hand. 

This is it, at last!

Defeat these three, and we’ll win, I know it already. My mind starts to shut down, zeroing in on the imminent fight. Like a tunnel, all I can see is them.

Fight… fight them… WIN.

I spread the fingers of my hand as I start to raise it. My feet swing down from behind me to slow my body down, bracing it for impact. Light starts to shine from my palm, and all at once it elongates into a broad, bright sword.

This is Patri’s sword… but…

The light intensifies further, concentration. The light starts to thin and elongate further, into one, long blade. Just like an epee, the tip sharpens to a deadly extent, like a needle poised to pierce skin and flesh.

“Light magic: Judgement Day!”

I finally clench my fist, grasping the handle of the sword. I tear my eyes away from its length and back towards the Triad. With a grin, I point my new spell at them. The mana around me solidifies under my foot, and with one mighty push, I lunge.

Moments before collision, Dante’s eyes catch onto the black mark on my head. And for a fraction of a second, something within him hesitates. 

That mark… how does she have that mark-

The thoughts don’t catch up with his body, and he hurls himself at me with the fury of a typhoon.

None of us are prepared for the outcome of the next five minutes.

AAAAAAAA next time: chapter 20. There is a massive fight. Morris gets his way, and something terrible happens... as usual.

[crimsonbluemoon]

For the prompt game 12//07//25 please? Ah... Ohmtoonz? or a pair you've been itching to do :3

EACH TIME I SAY I WONT OVERDUE IT

Yet here we are. >.> 

AU: BabysitterTrope: Childhood friendsPrompt: “I know this looks bad, but I swear it’s not.” 

Pairing: Ohmtoonz

“Okay, I know this looks bad-” Ryan had to take a deep breath to keep from bursting out in laughter at the scene. His kitchen, which had been pristine and tidy when he’d left for a meeting with his lawyer three hours ago, was covered in more colors than he thought he could process. In the middle of the room sat Joe, hands splotched in yellow and smearing the substance down the tiles already coated in pink. The ‘babysitter’, (the term used very loosely, since it was a last minute decision after Joe’s original babysitter got sick) was in no better shape. Blue clumps of paint (Ryan hoped it was paint) were threaded through hair he remembered being much fluffier when they were children. Age had tamed it, though the red beard was even brighter now with fingerpaint between the strands. The place, his four year old son, and his babysitter were a disaster that Ryan still wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry over. “But I swear it’s not.”

“Luke.” Trying to keep from smiling, Ryan stepped forward, hands leaving his slack’s pockets to point above. “My ceiling is purple.” 

“And orange!” Joe supplied happily, splashing his hands down into an actual pile of paint beside him. 

“What happened? You’re a police officer; you literally shoot people for a living. How did a four year old get the jump on you like this?” Ryan had to tease, because it’d been so long since he’d been able to. Luke had always been the one that got away; his best friend for nearly two decades before, at eighteen, he left to travel Europe and ‘find his meaning’ in life. Ryan had wanted to go, nearly asked to join, but had simply stood in the airport and held back tears just long enough for Luke to enter the gate without seeing them. He’d been head over heels in love back then, and sometimes he’d thought the feeling was mutual. But all the ‘what ifs’ flew away with Luke on his plane, and Ryan had forced himself to move on. 

Eight years, one messy divorce, and a son later, Ryan had run into his high school love at the bank four months prior. Luke had come back to their hometown years ago to become a cop, but Ryan’s wonderful ex-wife had demanded he move to the west coast with her. He’d never got wind of Luke’s return, too distracted by the birth of Joe and the mother of his child abandoning her duties to run off with the pool guy. Ryan hadn’t been able to move back to his hometown until four months ago, still working on finalizing the paperwork and letting Joe finish his first year in pre-school before moving him back across the country. 

He’d felt a little lonely, raising his toddler without a hand to help support him on days he didn’t want to get out of bed. It wasn’t like his marriage had given him much in that department, either. She’d been distant after Joe was born, jealous of the attention Ryan gave their son, and sought her happiness in someone else. She hadn’t even said goodbye to their son when she left, which had been the coldest part of it all. And Ryan didn’t know how to de-thaw from her abandonment. Joe helped, because he was Ryan’s world. Honestly, the only good thing about the marriage was the ball of optimistic sunshine. But he had bouts of crying and questions about why his mom left that kept Ryan awake and aching for hours. Wounded with nobody willing to help heal him. Maybe he’d always been that alone, that empty and unlovable-

Except one look of relief and the words ‘There you are’ in a bank full of people was enough to fill his heart to the brim again. 

“Your kid’s way sneakier than the idiots in our town.” Luke glanced down at Joe with a grin that proved his next words were affectionate. “Like a damn little squirrel.”   

“That’s my favorite animal!” Joe gasped out, and Ryan shook his head in disbelief. Two days ago, it had been a flamingo. He’d begged Ryan to buy him a lawn decoration of the pink bird, which Ryan had firmly said no to. They barely even had a lawn, and he knew that Joe would never play with it. The puppy dog eyes were hard to refuse, but Ryan was getting better at putting his foot down. They did not need the bird.

But then Joe asked Luke, who bought it before Ryan came back from the bathroom. Ryan wasn’t sure who he scolded more that night over chicken fingers and fries. 

“Yup, you mentioned that. Six times.” Without an ounce of annoyance, Luke let Joe climb onto his lap, sitting cross legged so the toddler had a better seat. Green was smeared over Luke’s sweatpants from where Joe had dragged his knees, but like the amazing human he was, Luke didn’t show any regret over being a human jungle gym. “And remember what I told you each time?”

“Daddy’s favorite animal is a bunny,” Joe chirped back, and the long forgotten memory bubbled up too quick for Ryan to hide his blush.

“Luke!”

“What? I didn’t tell him why you like rabbits so much.” Except there was a grin on Luke’s face that was anything but innocent. Because how could it be, when Luke had never let him live down the time he walked in on Jonathan and Evan’s first time. He hand’t meant to blurt out ‘they were fucking like rabbits’ so loudly, and didn’t know that Mini had been recording the party. Craig got the perfect angle of Ryan nearly throwing himself down the stairs to escape the traumatizing experience. He wasn’t sure who had the tape anymore (maybe Panda, since his friend always liked to watch it whenever he was needing a pick me up), but Ryan had to guess that Luke watched it over a hundred times. 

“We’re not talking about this,” Ryan said, sending Luke a meaningful look through his blush. “We need to talk about who’s going to clean this disaster you and my son created.” 

“I’ve got the kitchen if you take the rugrat.” The offer of help was so simple, yet every time, it sucker-punched Ryan. Luke had not been expecting Joe when Ryan came back from California, blaming Jonathan’s ‘lack of understanding with the English language’ as to why he didn’t know. Ryan hadn’t been a fan of social media, and only kept in touch with a few old friends from the town. But like Joe was his own, Luke didn’t hesitate to jump into the fray with Ryan, helping out whenever he could. Being a cop meant weird hours and long shifts, but Luke never complained when he popped over to visit them after work. Ryan never needed to ask for help; Luke just gave it. Whether it was cooking Joe food while Ryan took a much needed shower, or picking out pjs as Ryan bathed the fussy kid, Luke was there to lend a hand and a smile right when Ryan needed it.

But for the life of him, Ryan couldn’t figure out why. Luke was attractive and single, and the talk of the town even now. It was hard to go into the supermarket without hearing one of the cashiers asking Ryan how Luke was doing. It was common knowledge in their little town where Luke spent most of his days, and it seemed people thought the best way to catch his attention was through befriending Ryan again. The jealousy and insecurity from high school reared up, and Ryan had to attack it with a fire hose to keep from Luke knowing. Luke had a right to date, to court whoever he wanted, because he didn’t owe Ryan and Joe anything-

“Uh oh, daddy’s daydreaming again.” Joe’s words and a snort of Luke made Ryan re-focus, turning his attention back to the two still on the floor. Luke looked so content with the toddler in his lap, and Joe showed no signs of discomfort being so close to the other man. They were covered in paint and his house was a wreck, but Ryan felt his heart swell at the warm image. 

“Maybe you should go pick out your pjs so I can check in with your dad.” Luke’s words were like magic; with a quickness that he never had when Ryan asked him to move, Joe scampered out of the kitchen. Little purple footprints made Ryan groan, but his shoulders barely got to slump before warm hands were pulling him forward into a hug. 

“You’re covered in paint,” Ryan protested weakly, though put up no real fight. The smooth hand that slid down his spine melted his stress away, and Ryan felt helpless to the urge of sinking into Luke’s warm chest. 

“What did Tyler say?” Luke didn’t mince words, but kept his voice low against Ryan’s ear. There was no reason to shiver at the contact or intimacy of their position, because Ryan knew it meant nothing like what his heart hoped it would. 

“He said this next court case will be the final one; she’s not fighting for any custody.” He should have been happy about the news, since it’d been what he and Tyler had asked for when discussing Joe’s fate. But it’d stung, knowing that even now, his ex-wife wanted nothing to do with the son they had created together. How did he explain that to Joe when he got older? When he asked questions about her, when he got angry and confused about his own self-worth? Ryan would do whatever he could to raise Joe with love and care, but fights would happen. They’d disagree over bigger things than eating broccoli or only reading two stories before bed. Who would Joe turn to in those moments? That was why he’d probably tried so hard with his ex-wife to begin with; he’d never wanted Joe to feel unsupported or disadvantaged because he’d only have Ryan. 

But he couldn’t make her love Joe. And that killed him more than the divorce ever could. 

“She’s an idiot.” Luke’s words of anger toward a woman he never met was unlike him. Charisma and open-mindedness were his middle name, never judging a book by its cover. But Joe’s mother seemed to be the one exception, Luke showing disdain toward her from day one. “She had everything anyone could ever want, and she gave it up like an idiot.”

“You really liked babysitting Joe that much, huh?” Ryan tried to make a joke, but his laugh was cut off when Luke grasped his shoulders and pulled him back far enough to force eye contact. 

“I’m not just talking about him.” The serious gaze made it hard to breathe, Ryan’s chest stuffed with too much to sort through. His eyes blinked slowly, reminiscent of the unspoken feelings he’d shut down at the airport years ago. Now they oozed out without his permission, and he didn’t have a plane to help hide them this time around. 

“I’m…I’m not-”

“Not what? Intelligent? Charming? Sweet? A great father that your kid would spend every second of the day with if he could? Not someone who deserves love?” Luke’s words were followed by a grin, a warm palm cupping Ryan’s face and slowly dragging a thumb under his wet eye. “Not the most amazing guy I’ve ever got to meet? Who, if I ever got the chance to call my husband, would never go a day without knowing how crazy in love with him I was? Cause I’ll tell you right now, you are all of those things. Every single one of them. You are worth so much more than you could ever know. And I’ll knock out any fucking moron who says anything else.”

“Luke…” But what could Ryan say? His stomach fluttered at the words, hope rising in his throat and keeping his vocal chords from speaking again. There was no room for protest, because Luke’s steady words and lack of hesitation proved the statements came from his very being. He really saw Ryan as something to brag about, as someone to keep. When his own wife, who was supposed to want him until death do them part, threw him away. Ryan knew he needed to say something, to give a response in some way to the confession (and Jesus, did Luke say he loved Ryan?), but his mind was too fuzzy and scared to speak and destroy the fantasy. 

“Luke said a bad word!” Joe, however, had no such problems, and Ryan forced his eyes away from Luke to see his son with his hands pointing to the counter. “He needs to put money in the swear jar!” 

“Oh, ri-right.” Ryan swallowed slowly and tried to focus, but a little peek at Luke from the corner of his eye made his heart jump into his throat again. His blush was deep, he knew it, but there was no saving himself. “You owe a dollar to the jar.” 

Luke’s grin was a mile wide as he slipped past, dropping the bill into the jar while keeping his eyes set on Ryan. And when he spoke, Ryan knew he wasn’t speaking about the swear. 

“So worth it.”

[pandawritesmanythings]

(A Medieval!AU Loki x Stark!Reader Story)

Chapter Summary: Where our adventure begins...

Word Count: 2,018

Warnings: Angst? Breakups?

Masterlist

A/N: Thank you so much to those who liked the idea and decided this story was worth your time! I hope you enjoy!

-

Loki found himself looking out the window, while the woman on his bed slept soundly. He took a breath of the salty air that belonged to that dark and secretive night. A night of caresses and whispers, always aware that anybody could walk in but fully devoted to each other.

The northern star sparkled brightly against the dark sky and he found himself staring at it. At the millions of stars that he had explored yet still so many, he had out of his reach. He couldn't map further from what he could see. But there was no brighter star than the one that he had left to rest on his bed.

He approached her quietly and sat beside her. A hand petting her hair to wake her.

"Time to go love." He whispered as her eyes fluttered open.

She let out a heavy and sleepy sigh. "Must I?"

"I wish you hadn't. But you must."

"If only this wasn't so complicated..."

"Yes... If only." Loki stared out of the window. He knew this night was the last with his true love. "But despite what happens tomorrow, you must know that it was you. It was always and will always be just you."

They pressed their foreheads together, him trying to transmit his love for her and her trying to suppress the tears. After tonight these secret rendezvous and quiet cuddles would be no more. The dark prince was going to marry someone else, and there was nothing either of them could do.

"Promise me you'll never forget me." She asked him.

"I promise. But you also have to promise that you'll move on."

She kept quiet. Her golden hair was messy and it had fallen off her braid. Despite her disheveled look, she was still the most beautiful creature to Loki. His angel was struggling with her words, but he couldn't blame her. This was for the best, but it didn't mean that it wasn't hard.

Finally, she conceded. "I-I promise..." 

That night they would finally admit their love to each other, but they would have to painfully part before that love could ever be consumed.

-

The day of departure was extremely stressful for you. You paced around your room and Wanda helped you finish going over your luggage.

"Are you sure I have everything? Maybe double-check the list." You nervously paced as you pulled your dress to make it neater for the umpteenth time.

Wanda bit her lip in amusement. "Darling, this is the third time we have gone over about what you are taking and what you aren't. You have to take a breath. Everything will be fine."

You sat in front of your vanity and looked at the bags under your eyes in the mirror.

"Alright. Yes. Everything will be fine." You placed your head in your hands, and even though you tried to convince yourself, you had to admit that you really weren't feeling confident.

"This just needs to work Wanda. It does. I can't afford to slip up."

She kneeled next to you, and understanding look on her face. "I know my dear friend. But it will do you no good to worry like this. Come, you must speak to your brother. If you are nervous I can't begin to imagine how nervous he is."

You nodded and led the way to your little brother's room. After knocking, his brown eyes met yours and he beamed at you before tackling you into a hug. Not very princely like, but you loved him a lot so who cares.

"You came!" He beamed at you.

"Of course I came!" You smiled back. "I wouldn't want to leave without saying goodbye!"

A sad look crossed his face. "Do you really have to go?" He sheepishly asked.

"I know it's not ideal Peter, but it will only be for a little while, with some luck I'll be able to come back here soon." You tried to remain positive but the teen remained with a worried expression etched to his face.

"But you won't come back alone, will you?"

You hesitated. Your parents had been adamant about not letting Peter know many details, but you couldn't lie straight to his face.

"Best case scenario I won't."

"Why does that have to be the best-case scenario?" He grumbled, becoming slightly more annoyed.

"You know full well why Peter." You straightened up. "This is my duty and I'll fulfill it if I have to."

"But what about-"

Your glare and stern look shut him up immediately, especially after noticing a pair of guards walking nearby.

A sigh fell from your lips. "I don't wish to fight you."

"Me neither."

"Then please understand. I just want you to care for Morgan. And don't worry about me. I'm the royal heir. It's my obligation to worry about arranged marriages, not yours."

Both of your foreheads were pressed against each other. Both trying to draw strength from the other and still show your love, because you knew that in public you wouldn't be able to.

"I love you, little brother."

"And I, you."

-

The realm consisted of 9 kingdoms. Towards the ocean, was Asgard. A beautiful and towering kingdom. Rich in resources and culture. It was one of the biggest and most prosperous of the kingdoms.

To it's right was Vanaheim, which was a series of hunting tribes that had their own system of government. It was unusual for the Vanir to leave Vanaheim, and the thick vegetation and merciless fauna rendered it almost impossible to travel through it if not guided by a local.

To Asgard's left was Alfheim. An illustrious monarchy that made its home on the edge of the mountains, and had made itself rich for acquiring the precious gems and stones that decorated their palaces and streets. They lived quietly isolated and had refused for centuries to trade with any of the other kingdoms. But they had accepted to do so thanks to the Yggdrasil Accord.

Deeper into the mountains was Svartalheim. Their kingdom was to be found inside the mountains. Not much was known about them since they had remained isolated from the other kingdoms and despite the Accord, they still mostly kept to themselves.

At the top of the mountains and the subsequent valleys was Jotunheim. This kingdom was hostile. They bred warriors from infancy and were terribly dangerous to the other kingdoms. They were the strongest in the military sense. They had the best strategist and fiercest warriors. It was no surprise that anyone who approached the kingdom uninvited had gone missing and never heard of again.

In the valley below the mountains, there was Nidavelir. A kingdom of artisans and poets. A stark contrast to their Jotun neighbors, they were a complete opposite to them. Being mostly unarmed and interested only in refining their craft and methods of farming, they were the kingdom most defenseless yet with the most resources of the bunch.

Next, there was Niflheim. This was a neutral zone. A zone that was for the rulers of the kingdoms to come together in peace. As a result, the people of the place were pacifists and tried to share their ways with the other realms.

Then there was Hel. It had once been a powerful kingdom. But a raging fire had turned the green and beautiful forest into a barren and ashy wasteland. The people who lived there were ruled by their queen who barely had contact with the other kingdoms. Their system works like any other tribe would.

And finally, right in the middle of all the kingdoms, there was Midgard. The youngest of the kingdoms. This was your home. And this was yours to protect. Once you were old enough to understand your responsibility you took it with honor. Your small but resourceful centric land was everything to you. And you would protect it against the other kingdoms with your life.

"You've been looking at that map for a long time." You heard your father's voice.

He was coming towards you. His confident stride contrasting with the worry lines and sad smirk.

You smiled back at him before you looked back over the map. "Just making a mental list."

"For?"

"Well. If I am to go to Asgard I must make a good case for my visit and arrangement, must I not?" You smirked back at him, hoping it would lighten his mood.

To your delight, he seemed to relax a bit, but it didn't last long before he took a good look at you and smiled sadly.

"You've grown so much, you know?" He cupped your face in his hands and brought you in a hug. "I'm proud of you."

You couldn't cry. You wouldn't allow your self. It wasn't fair to him. He needed you strong. 

"I love you, dad."

"And I love you, my little girl..."

The doors opened and you saw your mother stride in. Her strawberry blonde hair flowed as her cream dress did. She was the image of perfection and grace. Oh, how you wanted to be like her when you grew up.

She called your name softly and embraced you. You felt her love in the soft hug. She looked at you with the same fondness as your dad.

"She's become such a wonderful woman, hasn't she, Tony?"

He nodded in agreement. "Almost as beautiful as her mum."

"Oh, hush you make me blush." You teased.

"You'll be a wonderful queen when the time comes my dear." Your mother nodded towards you, disregarding your last teasing comment.

"Thank you, mother."

"That's why I keep saying that you don't need to go to Asgard!" Your dad tried to sway you once more before you left. "You're absolutely capable of managing Midgard by yourself! Just saying!"

Your mother tried to interject, but you beat her to it. You held your dad's hands and looked earnestly into his eyes.

"I know that, dad. I truly do."

"Then why go?" He basically breathed out, it was painful for everyone, but you knew that for your father it was probably the hardest.

"You know why. There is no other option. At least not one that would want to make an alliance with us. We have the common ground, and benefits to profit of." You lowered your head in slight resignation. "We both know that this was not what we had planned. But I'll do whatever it takes to keep our people and my family safe. Please... You have to trust me."

He looked back at your mom, searching for her to correct you, tell you there was another way, anything. But when he saw the resignation on her tired eyes he knew there was nothing he could do. You were going through with this. Like it or not, you were going to do it.

"I trust you. I just don't trust the Asgardians."

You pulled a section of your skirt where there was a hidden knife and he raised an eyebrow at you. "How many?"

"Three more under the skirt." You flipped a thin razor from your long sleeve dress. "One right here, just in case."

"Attagirl." He smirked back at you.

"Now those are for emergencies, alright dear? We don't want war. Please reconsider taking so many." Your mom tried to interject.

You gasped exaggerating your expressions. "Me, by myself at a strange kingdom and you prefer I go unarmed? Mother, you wound me worse than any Asgardians ever could."

She raised an eyebrow at you, unimpressed. "I'm just saying choose your battles, child. You go to make peace, so avoid inadvertently causing a war between us and Asgard."

The three of you went over the plan and the proposal once more, before they escorted you outside the castle and let you off to the mysterious land than was Asgard. 

As your home and family faded in the distance you saw Peter hugging Morgan to his chest who cried for her big sister. You finally allowed the tears to run. For you, your family, and everything that was about to be taken away from you.

-

TAG LIST (OPEN)

[godsofmonster]

Bangtan MC  ≽ II.

Reader x Bangtan- Motorcycle Club

Word Count- 8.2k

Warnings- sexual content, death, murder, guns, drugs, violence, betrayal,  mentions of suicide, mentions of rape, etc.

For as long as I can remember back, I always wanted to be in a motorcycle club. Since I was six years old, the only thing on my mind was getting my hands on a Harley and a cut. I was a wolf, a wild cur, cut from the pack with bloodstained on my fur. Every wrong has marked a debt because a beaten dog never forgets.

The next morning, I woke up remembering almost nothing at all. We had spent the night at Namjoon's house after the occurrence of the evening before. There was no time for me to process or even begin to understand what was happening around me. The only thing I knew was that I had to get dressed for my father's funeral today. 

No one spoke to me unless there was some kind of practical reasoning behind it. Half of the time, I didn't even know who it was that would come and inform me of the time. However, they all always looked at me with a similar expression. The type of look you give to a caged animal, one you should never really turn your back on. 

"Here are some clothes that should fit you," Said a vague voice from the entrance of the bedroom. 

A woman, around my same age, knocked at the door of the guest room. She placed a few pairs of clothes to choose from on the bed in between us. A wet towel was barely covering my body as she quickly turned back to leave. I watched her pause with the door almost closed behind her, "Namjoon is waiting outside for you when you're ready."

-

The sun seemed to shine awfully bright despite the events that were to partake this afternoon. I found my sunglasses as I stepped out the front door in the same clothes from the night before. Namjoon was accompanied by Taehyung and Hoseok. They were gathered around their bikes in his driveway. Once he heard the door close behind me, he stood off his bike, excusing himself from the other two members.

"Hey," Namjoon spoke as he met me halfway up his driveway. His eyes scanned my figure momentarily, leading to a sudden smirk poking from his lips. "I can see you didn't like any of the dresses Cherry offered to lend you." 

"Cherry?" I questioned. Then the immediate realization of the scampy clothes became apparent. "I'm wearing the clothes of a hooker?"

"A pornstar, actually," Namjoon corrected, failing to hide his chuckle behind his hand. He found my frustration considerably amusing- he always had. "She's a nice girl."

I hummed in response, trying to overlook the new information.

"Well, I can't really ride in a dress anyhow," I muttered, taking a moment to look down at my clothes for any alarming stains that I might have missed.  

"Yeah... about that," I hated when his voice dropped like that. His gaze struggled to meet mine as I raised my brow at him. "You'll probably ride in the car with my mom- behind the club."

"What?" My chest tensed at his words. I pushed my sunglasses on top of my head to get a brighter look at him.

"Come on, (Y/n)... you know how it is," He said, hoping to dismiss the situation quickly. 

"He's my father and you won't even let me ride behind him?" I scoffed, still falling amazed at their ridiculous regulations. Namjoon took a step closer, trying to keep our conversation between us. 

"You know, as well as I do, that it's not allowed." He deepened his voice, thinking that I would fall intimidated by it. However, he only managed to create tears of rage brimming my eyes as I fought to keep my composure. "We can't break the formation."

"Fuck your formation!" I shouted, not caring that I had gotten the attention of the other members. "I deserve to be by his side!" 

Namjoon grabbed me by the arm, pulling me closer toward him. I could tell that my words triggered him but he worked to hold his temper. 

"I'm not going to remind you," He said in an ominous tone. 

"You aren't Bangtan."

His stare burned holes in my eyes and his hand was cutting the circulation of my upper arm. I yanked myself out of his hold and looked passed him at Taehyung and Hoseok who had taken a few steps closer, ready to interfere in case of any conflict. I decided to not drive the matter further. 

"You put your hands on me again," I pulled my sunglasses back over my eyes, "and I'll slit your goddamn throat." 

I pushed past him, avoiding eye contact with the other guys as I walked up to my bike. Namjoon walked toward me at a great pace, as if he wanted to stop me. I didn't hesitate to mount the bike and kick start the engine. We met each other's expressionless gaze, I waited to see if he would say something to me. 

He didn't.

I pulled out of the driveway dangerously quick and followed the road all by myself.

-

My feet marched and stopped their way into the House of Cards. Even in the middle of the day, the bar was full of hang arounds who felt entitled because of the name Bangtan. Members and nonmembers eyed me as I made my way across the floor. My eyes focused on the pair of black doors that had been shut in my face my entire life. There was no hesitation when I burst through them, knowing that I would find him sitting there at the head of the table. 

"Please, come in." He said sarcastically but with a bitter taste on his tongue. I locked the double doors behind me, making sure that nobody would interfere with us from having this conversation. 

"You've been avoiding me," I stated and stepped slowly around the opposite end of the table. He hadn't bothered to look up from files that laid in front of him. 

"Is that a fact?" He hummed. 

"It's been five days." I dug but he wouldn't nudge.  

I looked at the six empty seats in front of him, the doors of Bangtan carved, proudly, into the center of the Indian rosewood table. I leaned on the opposite side of him, my hands flatly placed at the edge. 

"I've been busy."

"Oh," I laughed coldly. "Is that how the great president of Bangtan deals with problems? By cowering away in his clubhouse?" 

"Don't push it, (Y/n)." He warned, finally setting down the papers in his hands to give me a stern look. "I don't have time to deal with your childish games." 

"You don't have time to deal with me?" I teasingly challenged. "Or you don't know how?" 

I stepped away from the table, my hands were placed firmly at my hips, as I smiled down at him. "It's funny that you can deal with murder and gun trafficking- but being a father!?"

His hands slammed against the table, loud as a gunshot, as he stood to his feet. He was furious but I was just glad to see a reaction out of him.

"Watch your goddamn mouth," He said through clenched teeth. 

I spat. "Is my desperate need for your attention getting boring?" 

"Is that what all this is about, (Y/n)?" He stood up straight. "Is that why you did it?"

The single light that dangled over the table was deep, creating the harshest contours on the borders of his face. The blinds were drawn behind him and the specks of light that seeped through were enough to give his figure a glow. He was a fearful sight but there wasn't much he could do to me that he hadn't already. 

"Did it ever occur to you that I might be the one who actually deserves your trust? Your counsel?" 

My voice softened deeply. Finally, reaching the situation in which I pleaded he would hear me the most. "Not your club-not Namjoon but me! You're daughter."

"You're telling me that all this shit is some fucking tantrum?" His voice sounded of disbelief. He shook his head and took his eyes off of me but I wouldn't allow it. He was going to hear me, whether he wanted to or not.

"After years and years of your lectures about family and what it meant to be a part of something," I stepped around the table, slowly coming to his line of sight once again. "Did you ever stop to realize that I was the only one who ever listened- who lived by everything you ever said!"

I hadn't even noticed that tears had escaped from my eyes until I tasted them on my lips. My father stared at me with burning eyes, his breath deepened in his chest.

"But you never did see it-" My voice cracked and more tears streamed down my face. "because of this thing... between my legs." 

He shut his eyes and sighed under his breathing. His anger had burned out completely and he only listened. "Believe me, I see what you- this lifestyle does to women. We're supposed to hold you down while you cheat, lie, and use..."

"(Y/n)," He spoke softly, it was like a breath of air, barely anything at all. "I don't distrust you because you're a woman- I distrust you because you aren't as smart as you think you are."

I scoffed under my breath, not being able to believe that he believed his own words. "It’s time you learned your place and stayed in it."

 "My place- isn't wherever you say it is," He allowed himself to sit back down in his chair as I made it to his side. "I'm not Jaeeun- and I'm not mom."

My father turned his eyes away from me, his hands closed tightly into fists as he spoke. I had come in here thinking that there was nothing else my father could have taken from me but I was so very wrong.

"I’ve decided to send you to live with your aunt in Seattle."

He had taken away from me the only thing I had left- a chance to prove him wrong. 

I looked away from his cold figure, hating the tears and pain that came at the price of his words. He had refused to see that he picked his stepson over me once again. I cleaned my face and began to walk toward the door, knowing that I had lost.

Just as I came face to face with the set of doors, without daring to look back at him- I said,

"Your club...your legacy- you have always loved it more than your actual family." There was no noise from his part. "Mom knew it and now... so do I."

-

Even now, it hurt the same. 

Throughout that time, I was alone, so many years lost without a home. I found my prayers answered by a different devotion. At that time, I didn't know just how fast and hard the wind could blow toward disaster. 

"I'm sorry I didn't come to see you sooner," I gulped silently, fiddling with the dandelion bouquet I had rumpled together. "I'm sorry I haven't come in over seven years." 

I was only eight when she passed away, which had left my father to care for me during my most formative years. Even so, I prefer to believe that the pain of my mother was the only thing that didn't allow me to break under the sins of my father.

"I'm sorry I'm going to leave you here with him." My back rested against her cold headstone, placing the bouquets of weeds just under her name, tears falling from my eyes. 

The place next to her was empty, my palm moved over the fresh grass, pulling out a few strands of green in the process. Originally it was meant to be saved for my father but when he remarried, Jaeeun tried to sell the lot. I had managed to convince him that the space next to hers would be my final resting place. I think it was the reason my father was looking for. 

I knew that my mother could not refine me from the sky. Still, I hoped that she would at least welcome me with open arms. 

"I thought you might be here," The words were accompanied by footsteps that roamed around my, sitting, frame. I shoved some loose strands of hair from my face.

"Did he send you to come to find me?" My eyes began to sting from the blazing sun that was emanating from his direction. I could only imagine how puffy and sore they looked under the rays of heat. 

"Well, I just figured you should be there," Jimin bent his knees, coming to eye level with me on the ground. 

"I don't even know why I'm here Jimin..." I muttered, avoiding eye contact out of embarrassment. He tried his best to make me feel not so alone, reaching his hand out to touch my arm, but I winced. "My father didn't want me here then- why would he now? I was only ever his burden." 

"That's not true," Jimin grabbed my hand, causing me to look up at him through my wet eyelashes. His voice had always been the voice of reason in my ears. "I think, in his own way, he wanted to protect you..."

He sighed as my face revealed that his words were falling to deaf ears. He meant well, I knew that but he didn't know what it was like. This is the life that he showed me- the life that I knew how to live in. "(Y/n) you aren't like us- believe me, that's a compliment."

"Jimin," I gulped through pain in my throat, the soft summer breeze pushing my words out. "I spent the last seven years of my life believing that if I just could come back home- the rest of my life would fall into place." 

"But why?" He urged, his voice becoming strained. "I know you see through the bullshit of this town. You always said so."

"My family is here..." That's what this was about. My hand reached to feel the stone carvings of my mother's name. That’s all this has ever been about. "Was- was here..." 

Maybe, it was stupid. Maybe no one could ever make sense of how I felt. But family was the only law I ever knew. 

Jimin stood back up on his feet, a loud sign leaving his mouth as he continued to look down at me. 

"We're still here, (Y/n)." 

I looked up at him to see his arm was extended out for me to take. How Jimin had managed to make me feel the smallest bit better- was far beyond my knowledge. 

He offered me his help to get back on my feet, allowing me the moment that I needed, before we walked together to the burial service. 

I was riding through this world all alone, thinking that God had taken my soul. I created a cage that accepted the darkness because it was easy on the eyes. A cage that I used to catch my breath, rest my head, ease my mind, and fuel my anger.

The green life that grew in the ruins of a cemetery seemed to be the most flourishing. The dead did not disturb them and the living provided them with their tears to drink. I figured I had done enough watering for one day. 

Jimin walked closely by my side, our feet walking over the bodies of loved ones as we made our way through the cemetery. There was a silence between that had been the most comforting thing I've heard all day. However, there was a consistent glimmer coming off the metal buttons of his leather cut. My eyes scanned the side of his chest that was closest to me. He had two patches sewed into the area above his breast pocket, one above the other reading, 

SGT at Arms

Dog of War

"What are you staring at, love?" Jimin asked after taking notice of my longing eyes. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything, but curiosity got the better of me.

"Did my old man appoint you Sergeant?" I asked, genuinely curious. He looked down at the patch on his chest and then back into my eyes. 

"Yeah," He answered with a bit of a chuckle. He brought his hand to rest over the patch as if he was remembering the day. "I guess he got sick of my preaching."

The SGT at Arms was a position given to a member who was in charge of upholding the rules and philosophy of the club. While also keeping an eye on all the members and in charge of looking out for everyone. Jimin had a heavy soul that was held tightly together by his values. Having been in my father's situation, I would have probably made the same judgment call. It wasn't that patch that I was surprised to see- it was the one underneath it. 

"And what did you do to deserve that one?" My hand reached out and made contact with him. His eyes shifted back down as I moved our hands to the patch below. "If you don't mind me asking, that is."

I said, quickly withdrawing my hand, noticing that the question made him a bit uneasy. I kept my eyes on his facial expression, carefully, watching for any kind of response. 

"I," Jimin paused to lick his lips. His hand also dropped from his chest as he looked ahead. He chuckled again, this time, more ambiguously. "I guess I just took care of business."

Only a few were selected to earn the title of Dog of War, to receive such recognition, you had to make a serious act of loyalty to the club- usually a violent one. In fewer words, you had to kill a high enemy of the club.

"I still like to shove it in Hoseok's face, whenever I can. Since he, Jin, and Yoongi are the only ones who don't have it." It was definitely something he was proud of. I could only imagine what he must have done to deserve it. "But I guess, he'll be rubbing his VP patch in front of me soon." 

My mind almost didn't process what he had said since it was barely a mutter. My feet slowly came to a halt and Jimin mimicked me as he noticed. 

"I-Is..." I don't know why I hadn't noticed it before. My stomach turned into a ball at the words I was about to say. "Is Namjoon going to take over as President?"  

"Well, technically, we still need to vote on it," Jimin ran his hands through his long locks of hair, a habit of nervousness that I recognized instantly. "But he is your father's VP." 

Rage heated up my body, I could feel it burn color over my face as I tried to remain calm. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do with this feeling of instability. I couldn't let go of the hatred because I loved the way it tastes. 

The only notion that was able to draw me from my relentless thoughts were the soft words being spoken off in the distance.  

"If I should go before the rest of you.

Break not a flower nor inscribe a stone"

"(Y/n)," Jimin attempted to recover my attention. 

However, I had managed to spot, underneath a grove of pine trees, a gathering of people. The familiar voice traveled along with the breeze that was coming from that direction.

"Nor when I'm gone,

 speak in a Sunday voice."

Before I knew it, my legs began to move once again. This startled Jimin, he followed closely behind me as all I could do was follow the voice. 

"But be the usual selves

 that I have known."

The group in my line of sight becomes clearer with each step, faces become apparent, I even began to recognize some of them. My legs commenced trembling with some kind of adrenaline. I wasn't sure if it was my footsteps or heartbeat pounding in my ear.

"Weep if you must,"

I found the words coming from Namjoon's mouth, he stood over the casket, in front of a large crowd of people. The head of the group was a line of seated women, among them, Jaeeun, the members and close friends of the club gathered behind them.

"Parting is Hell,"

Heads slowly began to turn as I approached the crowd. Red and white flowers blanketed the ground surrounding his lot. My father's casket was completely black, except for the words 'Bangtan' written in white lettering, along its side. His leather cut also rested on top with the back rocker facing up. 

Without warning, I moved swiftly to get my hands on Jimin's bowie knife. I pulled out the weapon from its place, where it had been tucked into his belt. 

Small gasps filled the crowd as Jimin failed to keep me from advancing toward the casket. Roses crushed under the weight of my feet as I grabbed the leather cut. I flipped it on its front and eyed the patches it held. 

I dragged the end of the knife to slice loose the bottom stitching of the patch. Once I freed the edge of it, I gripped in my hands and yanked it off with all the anger that I had built up. I could feel the stares coming from behind me, murmurs and whispers were exchanged between them. I continued to repeat my actions to the patch that laid underneath. Just making a second of eye contact with Namjoon, who stood on the other side, before also ripping the patch off by hand. 

I crumbled the two patched into my front pocket as I turned on my feet. I was met face to face with the crowd of people, mixed expressions spread across their faces. I looked down at my feet, stepping aside some of the crushed roses, and found a red one that had remained unharmed. I bent down and picked it up between my fingers. I brought the delicate thing to my nose, taking a smell, before tossing it on top of the casked.

I caught a glimpse of Jaeeun cold glare before I pulled down my sunglasses and took a seat at the only empty chair at the end of the row.

I crossed one leg over another and made myself comfortable. Jimin shortly after walked to stand by my side, in which, I handed him his knife without a word.

The muttering in the group had begun to quiet down, Jaeeun, who finished the session with a hushed, "Crazy bitch..."

Everyone soon turned back to Namjoon, who had not been able to take his eyes off of me this entire time. When he did look away he let out a sigh, to clear his throat, as he continued. 

"But life goes on,

So sing as well."

-

After the burial, Jimin had convinced me to join the rest of them at The House of Cards. Truth be told, I didn't have anywhere else to go. My father's home had become a crime scene, with broken windows and blood painting the house. Spending another night with Namjoon and Jaeeun felt further like an option. 

Staying, within itself, proposed a predicament.

"Here," 

The sound of short, round, glass being placed in front of me drove me away from my pity-party. "Neat, right?" 

"Yeah, thank you," I took the glass into my hand as Jimin took the stool across from me. 

We shortly glanced at each other as we both took a sip from our drinks. Jimin puckered his lips against the rim of a bottle of beer, and I hissed at the taste of straight whiskey. 

"So, what's the plan?" Jimin asked after letting out a small burp and setting his drink down.

"I have no idea," I lamented. "Go back to Seattle? Let fate take the wheel?"

Jimin chuckled and leaned back in his seat.

"Come on," He said. "I know you don't believe in that shit."

I played with the glass in my hand, watching as the brown liquor rattled against the edge. I sat up on the wooden table and looked up at him.

"I don't believe in anything anymore."

His face didn't twitch at my words, he merely kept a similar face, which was hard for me to read. The sigh that shortly followed made me believe that he had grown rather worn of my self-indulgence.

"(Y/n)," He said, pushing a single strand of hair from his face. He held my eyes in his own, the tone of his voice had fallen seriously. "Are you happy?"

I knew he meant in life- in general. However, I was afraid that the answer would remain the same. He managed to read that in me, without me having to say a word.  He leaned in, much closer than before,

"Do you want to be?" It was easy to assume that the answer was yes. Didn't everyone want to be happy? But the truth was, not everyone still had that hope inside of them, to fight for their happiness. "Has anything you've done these past seven years- made your life any better?" 

I felt a single tear slip from my eye, blinking it away upon noticing it. I had 25 years behind me. I've lived my life inside a cage, surrounded by demons, many of which were my own. Falling weak by your own hands was a hard way to fall.  I shook my head and felt ashamed to maintain his stare.

"I think it's time you stay awhile," He said, reaching out to hold my hand. It was the first time I had taken notice of his touch, how it was warm and welcoming. "And decide what it is you want."

It could have been the hard liquor, but I felt my face heat with a mixture of shame and embarrassment. Taking another glimpse of his touch, I slowly removed my hand and swallowed to clear my throat. 

"S-So, what about you?" I pushed part of my hair behind my warm ears. Straightening out my back, I pulled my arms in and created some space between us. "What have you been up to all this time?"

He took another drink of his beer before answering. I thought I could make out a flush of color on his cheeks as well, but the lighting above us was too warm and too dim to tell.

"I um- went to school, shortly after you left," He explained. "I got an associate in automotive technology." 

"Are you working in the shop with your old man?" I asked. A motorcycle was everything to a biker- if you weren't a good mechanic, finding one was a matter of life or death. His family's shop was the only workshop I would dare to trust in.  

"I'll be taking over, pretty soon," He joked lightly. 

Words hung over his mouth as our attention was stolen by the sudden sound of rapid running. I felt a small hand pat my leg eagerly, demanding recognition. I looked down from the tall stool to find a young boy about the age of four. 

"My daddy said another drink will make you feel better." Before I could question anything, he pushed an open juice box into my lap. 

I broke out into a laugh, taking the juice box into my hands and inspecting it. When I looked back at the kid he was also smiling, this time a bit more shyly than before.  

"Geeze kid," Taehyung came walking up beside him. He quickly picked up the kid as if he had run off from his side. "Not that kind of drink."

I was confused at first, but in the arms of his father, there was no doubt that he was Taehyung's son. He had large dark orbs for eyes and his father's ears. His hair was dark and full, parted to the right and long enough to tuck behind his ears. 

"Milk?" He innocently suggested. 

"That's right, little man." Jimin laughed along. His little voice melted my heart, and his smile was a mirror reflection of Taehyung's. Jimin stepped down from his seat and grabbed his beer. 

"I'm going to get some more milk." He shook his bottle lightly, indicating that it was almost empty. 

"Grab me one," Taehyung called out to him as he walked toward the bar. 

Just then, a group of children came running around the table. Their laughs and screams of joy induced Taehyung's boy. His little feet began to kick lightly, Taehyung responded right away, by letting him down.

"Daehyun, stay where I can see you!" He called as his son took off running after the other kids. 

I found my smile fading as soon as he was gone, the sudden memory of the night before flashed in my head. 

"He wasn't there last night?" I asked looking up at Taehyung, who had not moved from his place a few steps beside me. 

His face had fallen stiff at my question. Obviously, the thought of the night before had brought bad images to his head. Something a parent would never want to imagine. 

"My parents had him." He explained while he searched his back pockets. Even for those who choose this kind of life, they knew better than anyone, what the fear was like.

I felt relieved to know that he wasn't there. No kid deserved to witness such hell. For some reason, the air always fell dry between Taehyung and me. I just simply watched him pull a pack of smokes out his back pocket. He noticed my eyes on him and stepped closer to offer me a cigarette. I didn't agree with smoking indoors, much less around children, however, I could really use a drag. 

I placed the square between my lips, Taehyung closed the gap between us, his figure casting a shadow over me. He flicked the flint wheel of a zipper lighter, cupping his hands over the hot flame, and offered it to me. I connected the two and breathed in deeply, Taehyung ultimately doing the same. 

"Thanks," I muttered, deeply bringing the smoke into my lungs. "Do you have more kids?"

Taehyung moved back, pushing some of his hair away from his mouth, avoiding any unwanted event. His cheeks hollowed in, a sharp inhale followed his deep drag. 

"Nah, just the one." He smirked, glancing back to find me somewhere in the bar.

"I'm sure you've got some more scattered around the state." Jimin teased as he came back with two beers in his hand. Taehyung grabbed one of the opened bottles and shoved Jimin back to his seat. Jimin continued to joke in his seat. "Don't bring any of them. We don't need more kids running around the shop."

"You're working at the shop too?" Taehyung nodded his head and took a sip of his drink.

"I should be running the damn place," He said, taunting Jimin. "I put in more hours than him."

"I'm still a better mechanic than you." Jimin shot back. 

I pressed the glass to my lips and watched the two bicker with each other. It reminded me of when we were in high school. It was good to see some things hadn't changed, that some people were still the same. 

"What about you?" Taehyung asked.

"Hm?" I said not completely hearing what he had said. 

"What do you work in?" Jimin clarified, seeming more interested than Taehyung. 

"Oh," I stammered. I took another drag to give myself some thinking time. "Just a boring office job." 

"Like with data?" 

There wasn't any time for the question to settle. The main entrance of the bar opened and walked in Namjoon. I hadn't even known that he was missing from the group until then. 

Hoseok and Jungkook were by his side as he scanned the room. His eyes landed by the end of the bar, where Yoongi and Jin were seated, drinking, and well accompanied by women. Namjoon's hand motioned Hoseok over to them. During this time, Jungkook had spotted us over on the corner and made sure to point us out to Namjoon. 

"Guess it's time..." Taehyung muttered to himself. His head turned back to eyed Jimin, who began to chug down his drink. 

By the time my eyes looked back, Namjoon and Jungkook were walking in our direction. I took hold of my drink once more, my cigarette resting in the same hand. In an attempt to look busy, I suppose. 

"Ready?" Was the first thing out of Jungkook, obviously referring to Jimin and Taehyung. I avoided Namjoon's stare.

"Yep," Taehyung stepped over the table and put out his cigarette in the ashtray. He looked over his shoulder, my eyes followed to where he had spotted his son. Daehyun was playing with some other kids under the tables of the bar. 

"I can keep an eye on him," I offered. 

His gaze lowered to mine. Only then did I notice how close he was to me. His fingers still digging the already crushed cigarette deeper in the glass ashtray. 

"Thanks, doll." His eyes dropped into a wink that no one else witnessed. 

Jungkook came up and wrapped his arm around his shoulder. They walked together toward the hallway, which was in the back of the bar, leading to the garage and the doors to the chapel.   

MCs had weekly club meetings, that they referred to as church. If their meetings were church- then their conference room was the chapel. However, special club meetings could be held at any time they were needed. Any club action needed to be voted on by current members. For the most part, it was a matter of the highest vote being the one to pass. Although, there were special cases where a vote had to be unanimous for it to pass into action- patching in a prospect, sending someone to hell, and voting in a new president. 

Namjoon and I were left alone, but still, I kept my eyes glued to my drink. I always felt so on edge when his eyes were on me. He stepped toward me and leaned his hand on the table. 

"I'm going to need what you took." He said softly. I still refused to look into his eyes. Not wanting to spend any more time with him, I pulled out the severed patches from my pocket.

The two patches were bitterly placed on the table between us. Namjoon's hand hesitated to reach for them both, but I had quickly changed my mind. 

My hand slammed back down, shielding the patches from his hold. I looked at them both and only pushed one toward him.

"Just because you need it," I said. His finger touched the sewed on letters of the president patch. I looked at him this time, staring him down, "But this one belongs to me."

His face remained the same for a moment, his eyes lightly shifting from side to side as he tried to focus on me. Then his cold stare broke into a smirk. 

"He's rolling over in his grave knowing you have that." I placed the cigarette back in my mouth and leaned away from him.

"Good."

Without saying anything else, a sort of truce, Namjoon took what was his and left. Once his back was turned to me, and he was far away enough, I let out a shaky breath. 

I gripped the Founder's patch in my free hand and soothed my burned throat with whiskey. 

My father was a boy of agony, a man of soul, traded in his misery for the lonely life of the road. In the late of June, the king had died from a hell that was heaven made.

My father was the founder of Bangtan. A group of men that loved their Harleys and their family. Willing to anything to protect they're right to ride, no matter the cost. They were motorcycle enthusiasts that lived their life on the edge- and so was I.

Daehyun's laugh seemed to be the only joy in the entire room. His tiny shoes screeched against the black tile floor as he ran in circles. He struggled to keep his long hair away from his face, the mop on his head almost costing him the game, as it compromised his vision. His smile was contagious.

"Oh god," A groan, from beside me, managed sucked the small gasp of happiness from the air. "I know that look anywhere."

I turned my head on time to catch Jaeeun, offering herself the seat where Jimin had been. She held a drink in one and an unlit cigarette in the other. 

"What look?" I ask, only half curious. 

I spared her my look and continued gazing at the sweet child who knew nothing of the cruel world around him. 

"That look of an empty-aching womb." She responded with the noise of a flicking lighter following. 

I scoffed.

"Why would I want to bring a kid into this shit world?" The thought crossed through my mind and then I forced it out. 

"Because you have a deep, painful need to be needed," Jaeeun said. I somehow knew that wasn't meant to be an insult. "You're a lonely bitch."

That part was. 

"Is that why you had Namjoon?" I looked at her and found amusement resting on her face. A trail of smoke blew past her lips. 

"All mothers are selfish for bringing babies into this world." 

She wasn't the most heartwarming person, but she had her wise moments. I unearthed the similarities in our way of thinking many times before. Perhaps, that was the issue. 

"That's why I wouldn't do it," I set my empty glass on the table between us. Her eyes continued to watch my every move, "Don't worry,"

A bad joke crossed my mind and the whiskey was the only encouragement I needed. 

"I don't plan on making you a grandmother just yet."

She didn't seem to appreciate it very much. 

Jaeeun leaned in across the table, her eyes threatening me before her words ever could.

"I don't have to remind you what happened the last time you tried to fuck with my family." She spoke viciously and effortless.

I tried to hold back my grin, but the alcohol in my veins made it quite difficult. I didn't think I could feel anything but the warmth burning up in my face. 

"If you think that this is your chance for some kind of redemption story," She was almost losing her patience with the venom spitting from her mouth. "It's not."

Her words began to sting.

"I'm not afraid of you," I declared and pushed the butt of my cigarette into the ashtray. "And I'm not the same girl I was seven years ago."

"I am." She sneered. 

 "And just in case you were wondering, no one here feels sorry for you." She was proud of herself for finding the right button. "Your name is a forgotten memory in this town."

As the liquor gave me the confidence, it took it away just as easily. Jaeeun had a keen nose to sniff out people's weaknesses. I couldn't be any easier to read in her eyes.

"Believe me," I said, forcing myself to keep my head up. "You've made that perfectly clear."

There was little compassion in Jaeeun's heart, and it was not saved for the likes of me. Even as my eyes glossed with the effects of her words. 

"You're weak." She looked down at me.

"Maybe you're right," I grabbed my empty glass and stood off my seat, our eyes holding up into the last second. "But I lost everything and came back,"

I spoke softly, surrendering my share in this conversation with the only truth I knew. "You would have crumbled."

I had to admit, by the time I sat at the bar, I felt very discouraged. All of my desires had turned out to be a gifted lie. I loved everything I didn't have and yet, hated it for that very same reason. 

I decided not to order another glass for myself, seeing as how the first drink had a wild effect on me. I settled for a glass of water and to keep myself company. 

"Excuse me?" I answered to a voice beside me. "(Y/n)?"

My eyes fell upon a young woman, reserved and beautiful.

"Yes?" She was noticeably better dressed than anyone in the room. It was hard not to notice that she was very out of place. 

"I'm Darcy Durrell," Her last name was all I needed to know. The Durrell's were one of the wealthiest families in the town. Her father, the mayor, is the head of many organizations. "I just wanted to let you know how sorry I am for your loss." 

"Oh, thank you," I answered awkwardly, just taking notice that she was the first person to tell me that. "You look so different from before- I didn't even recognize you."

"Oh," She smiled, running her hands through her hair.

Darcy was four years younger than I was. She naturally had large brown eyes, with dark brows and long blonde hair. At least that's how I remembered her 14-year-old self. Now, her hair was dark and cut into a blunt bob. 

As we were talking, my mind couldn't help but recall back to that night. 

-

"Actually,” My father suddenly spoke up. Both Namjoon and I paused to see who he was referring too. “You can stay, Namjoon, it’s time you learn a thing or two.”

He barely spared me a glance as he continued, “Prospect, follow (Y/n) and make sure she gets home.”

“No problem,” Yoongi responded.

I gathered my belongings in a wave of harried anger, trying to avoid anyone from taking notice of the tears streaming down my face.

No one bothered to give me another look, anyhow. I was as insignificant as the dirt on the garage floor. 

I followed closely behind Yoongi, stepping through the doors that lead into the bar. I almost couldn't contain the built rage that was brewing inside of me. My heart was broken, and my trust was shattered. I could almost throw a child-like tantrum. The kind that would call for someone to carry me out of the bar.  

I had to do something.

I stopped in my tracks and managed to come up with something on the spot. 

"I have to use the bathroom," 

Yoongi looked over his shoulder at me and simply nodded. 

"I'll wait for you outside." 

The door to the bathroom was down a long hall, the entrance to that hallway was an arch, beside the door to the garage. Once Yoongi was out of my line of sight, I hid in the space where the arch met the wall. I waited there as more people approached the back of the bar. It was late at night, and the only people it could be were other club members. The darkness of the hallway kept me well covered as the disembodied voices passed by me. 

Once I heard the door to the garage close, I stepped out and walked up to the door myself. Ever so quietly, I cracked the door open just a bit, enough for me to see. 

"Good to see you, Steven."

My father stepped toward the direction of Steven Durrell, the mayor of Blackburn. My father extended his hand out to him, but Steven was hesitant to take it. 

The relationship between the club and the town wasn't a very good one. They didn't appreciate our outlaw way of dealing with our day to day problems. I couldn't make sense of why he was here, but I imagine it couldn't be good.

The look on his face was further confirmation of that. 

"Darcy is still in shock..." Steven spoke timidly. He looked worried and unsure of his own business. "She doesn't remember anything."

He let out a shaking sigh, his shoulders falling into a hunch as if the weight of the world rested on them. "Son of a bitch busted her in the jaw, threw her down on the dirt, and raped her." 

"What did the police say?" Namjoon asked, standing beside my father. 

"They took a report." He responded, not sounding to have much faith. 

His demeanor was shaken. He could barely make eye contact with my father as he worked up the courage to speak. 

"I want you to find him and bring him to me."

My father took a deep drag from his cigarette, letting his words sink in, making sure that he, himself, believed them. "I'll pay you anything you want."

"Who do you think we are?" My father seemed annoyed. He tossed his cigarette to the floor and crushed it under his foot. "I don't want your money." 

His voice fell deep, as it did before he was about to preach.

"No one comes into our town and does this to a little girl."

Steven took in a deep breath, one of relief, to hear my father agree. 

"We'll find this bastard but this isn't so simple Steven," My father took a step closer to the man in distress. "I need to know that when I deliver him to you,"

Steven gulped.

"That you'll take care of business."

There was doubt on his part, my father's strong eyes beckoning him further. But after moments of silence, it was Steven's turn to extend his hand to my father. 

The deal was sealed.

-

“Your father was a good man,” Darcy said and gave me a sympathetic smile before excusing herself. 

It was a small town, so everyone knew who Darcy Durrell was, and what happened to her that night at the park. She was fourteen years old, and the police never found the man. Yet, her family could rest assured that he had paid for what he did, and everyone knew why. When people came to the club because they couldn't go to the police, that meant something to my father. 

I had neglected the parts of this world that I admired. The good and shelter the club brought to people. How selfish of me to only remember the beginning of that day. The part that only affected me. 

Still, I could not find any valid reason to stay. 

Was there truly nothing left for me? Life was not what I foresaw for myself and the blame was solely mine. The world had given me seven years to make a change and instead, I built up this rage and anger. I managed to Isolate myself into the void and hate. 

Jimin was right.

It was time for me to ask myself the big question; 

Who am I?

And what is it that I want? 

Now, I don't know if I believed in fate; that in which you cannot change. However, Destiny is that which you're meant to do- who you are meant to be. Fate is what happened to me because I didn't take responsibility for my life. My destiny is what came calling on my cell phone. 

I pressed the phone against my ear and answered, "Hello?"

"Hello, am I speaking with research specialists (Y/L/N)?" I looked over my shoulder, making sure that nobody was around me. 

"Yes, this is her." My eyes scattered around the room. 

"This is Special Agent Anthony Romero." My eyes landed on Daehyun at the closest table beside me. "I apologize for calling you at a difficult time. However, we believe that you might have first-hand insight into a motorcycle club that we believe is in the works to be affiliated with the Camilo Cartel." 

Our eyes locked and he smiled at me. 

"I'm sorry," I stood from my seat, worried too much that my conversation might be overheard. "Sir, there must be some mistake. This club doesn't associate with those kinds of activities." 

I stepped toward the back of the bar, close to the back door of the garage. 

"Ms. (Y/L/N), I understand that you have family ties with the Bangtan motorcycle club," Our way of life was always outlaw, but if there was one thing that my father refused to entertain was Bangtan getting into the drug business. 

"But as an agent of the DEA, we are asking for your cooperation in this investigation." 

The doors of the meeting room opened. The boys came out gathered around Namjoon, each of them making gestures of praise and excitement. Namjoon smiled, his hand stroking the newly stitched patch on his vest.

"I have no experience as a field agent," I answered quietly.  

Jaeeun walked up to Namjoon, wrapping her arms around him and speaking inaudible words to him. 

"I can brief you in the morning. For now, get some rest agent." 

Just like that, he wished me a good night. Little did he know, nothing would ever be good again. 

I brought the phone down, and the way that I looked at everyone in this room had changed. 

I knew things were not the same as when I left, but I didn't know that everything had gone to complete shit. If you chose this life, then you knew what the fear was like if you welcomed addiction. There was no taunted charm or broken smile that could reach you then. Nothing happened in California that the club didn't know about. 

Destiny is what happens when you commit to your path. I was born into this life, I was born my father's daughter and this was my kingdom.

Masterlist ≽

[nejitenforlife]

NejiTen Month 2020

Day 11 - Pirate AU (Part 2)

Please read part 1 if you haven’t already, before reading this part of the story. The final part will (hopefully) be out tomorrow. I hope you enjoy this part of the story! 

Word Count: 2,612

.

Tenten instantly felt the change of temperature upon awakening. Where she was warm in the storeroom, she could not stop shivering in this new location. After opening her eyes, she realized she had been moved to the brig, a revelation that angered Tenten more than frightened her.

How dare the captain put her behind bars! She was a lady—a woman of station—and he had no right to show such disrespect to her person. Of course, she knew she didn’t look like a woman at the moment. No, she looked more like a homeless person from the streets, not the wealthy young lady she was.

Which was for the best. Tenten refused to give her real identity away to this man—even if he decided to torture her for it. Telling him would equal death—not just her own, but his and his crew’s as well. Not that Tenten should care one bit about what might happen to him or his crew members, but she didn’t want to be caught up in more of her father’s—and his—mess than necessary.

Tenten wondered if the captain would be willing to let her go once he reached his destination in exchange for her working on board. It would be preferable than being kept in this cold, damp cell. But even if she must remain here, if he promised to let her go once they reached land, she wouldn’t complain. Hell, she even contemplated warming his bed for the duration of their journey if that was what persuade him to let her leave without harm. For surely by now her fiancé knew of her absence and was rallying his men to find her.

Tenten would take her chances with these pirates over being handed back to that man.

So no, she would not tell the captain who she was, and she would do everything in her power to leave this ship and make a new life on some unremarkable small town, somewhere her fiancé would never find her.

“Are you awake?”

The voice startled Tenten and she jumped, her head whipping around to find the speaker. A man stepped into the dingy lamp light, holding a tray in his hands.

“The captain asked me to make sure you had enough water, since you seemed dehydrated,” he said, letting himself into the cell and placing the tray in front of her with a kind smile. “He also told me to get you some food. I’m sorry it is only basic. The captain would flog me if he found out I fed you anything other than what he told me to.”

Tenten didn’t care. The piece of crusty bread and watered down soup looked like heaven compared to the raw vegetables she had been eating every day. She would have loved some stew, or something with chunks of meat in it, but she wouldn’t complain. This was more than she had expected to receive from the pirate captain, and she would be an idiot to be ungrateful for it.

“Thank you.” Tenten smiled at the kind pirate, wondering how such a man found this sort living.

“My name is Rock Lee, but you may just call me Lee. I am the first mate to captain Neji Hyuga of the Crimson Night. What is your name?”

Tenten had heard of the Crimson Night. The crew weren’t as vicious as other pirates, but they were still ruthless, and they revelled in looting other ships, pirate or otherwise. Tenten supposed she was fortunate to have found herself onto a ship that took captives instead of killing all their enemies, and she had never heard of stories of the crew of the Crimson Night raping people. But just because she hadn’t heard of it, did not mean it didn’t happen…

“Your name, miss?” the first officer asked again, watching her with shrewd, guarded eyes. Tenten got the feeling that although he was kind to her, he wasn’t one to be trifled with.

“I’m nobody,” she replied. She grabbed the jug of water off the tray and took a huge gulp, not wanting to keep eye contact with the pirate. Although the water tasted slightly stale, she felt as though she could cry as it ran down her throat to settle in her belly. Nothing had ever tasted so nice.

“Even so, you must have a name.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to say.”

“If you are unwilling to say, I can only assume that you are a lady of means and you are afraid we will recognise the name and hold you for ransom. That, or you are running from someone and do not wish for us to spill your secrets to them.” He spoke in an amused tone, as though he was just making it up, but Tenten knew he meant the words, and she had to stop herself from panicking at just how close to the truth he had come—on both counts.

“Does it matter what my name is?” she snapped, using anger to hide her fear. “You can only be planning to either kill me or let me go, and I don’t see why my name is relevant in either case. If you want to kill me for stowing away on your ship, just do it. I’d rather not have my imminent death dragged out. And if you’re planning on letting me go, then we won’t see each other again so what’s so important about knowing it?”

Lee held her gaze and Tenten had to fight not to squirm under his perusal. There was no way she was going to back down from this. As soon as they knew who she was they would attempt to benefit from that fact. And yes, she realized she could have lied, but this man seemed smart—smarter than perhaps he let on to others—and she wasn’t a very good liar to begin with. It was best for her to just keep her mouth shut so as not to incriminate herself any further.

“Very well then.” He stood up, gave her another long look, then nodded. “I must go. Maybe you will feel like telling the captain.”

Tenten didn’t think a sentence so innocuous could be said in such a threatening way, and she decided to re-evaluate the nice-guy image she had in her head of him. Of course he wasn’t a nice guy. He was a pirate for goodness sake! There was nothing good about pirates.

The first mate locked the cell behind him, taking with him the only lamp and leaving her in complete and utter darkness.

.

.

.

“Captain,” the female captive said from her place on the floor. She was still wearing men’s clothes, and it allowed her to move freely inside the cell, instead of being encumbered by so many layers. Still, Neji wouldn’t mind seeing her in her usual attire—clothes that would hug her body instead of sitting like a shapeless rag.

“Lady,” he nodded in reply, coming to stand at the outside of her cell door.

It had been two days since she was taken to the brig, and Neji had to admit that she was looking better. Not a lot cleaner—he had only allowed her some water and a rag to wash her face and hands, and was still yet to see a bath—but her face held colour once more and she seemed brighter, more alert than when he had found her.

“Is it lunch time yet?” she asked, eyes darting behind him in case Lee was following with a tray of food.

Neji wanted to snort at the gall of her. She was his prisoner; she would be fed when he deemed it appropriate. Hell, he had every right to withhold food from her since she was withholding information from him.

“Lee will bring something shortly,” he replied instead, unable to deny her.

Neji had been visiting his prisoner since the first day she had been transferred to the brig, and each day he found himself looking forward to seeing her. She was a breath of fresh air on this testosterone filled ship, and she didn’t seem intimidated by him. More than once he found himself butting heads with her, but he found her wit and intelligence attractive.

His captive smiled, and not for the first time Neji wondered what those lips would feel like against his. “And a bath too?”

Her eyes were twinkling as she asked, but he detected the hopeful note in her voice. A smirk tugged at his lips. “You get a bath when you tell me who you are.”

She pouted, her shoulders slumping under the blanket he had provided for her on her first day in the brig, after he had noticed how her body shivered in the dark room.

“I’m kind of hoping you get so sick of the stench of me that you have no choice but to order me to take a bath,” she admitted with a grin.

Neji raised an eyebrow at her. “I was not aware that I had the ability to order you to do anything.”

She laughed at his words, the noise feminine and utterly enchanting. “True. Not many people can get away with telling me what to do.”

Not for the first time, Neji had to tell himself why it would be a bad idea to enter the cell with her. He wasn’t worried she would attack him, but he was worried about his own reaction to being so close to her, seeing as though he already felt attracted to the mysterious woman. He pulled up a chair and sat by the door, knowing he would be there a while despite his mind telling him he had more important things to do.

“Captain,” Lee appeared at his side, too early for lunch to be served.

“What is it, Lee?” Neji didn’t want to be annoyed at his first mate, but he also didn’t like being disturbed when he was speaking with his captive.

“Kiba has spotted a ship in the distance, travelling in our direction. It could be nothing, but he wanted to make sure you knew either way.”

“Pirates?” If they were, Neji would be more than happy to fight them head on. Otherwise, he would rather continue undisturbed, not only because their arrival at their destination was time sensitive, but now because he didn’t want to risk any harm coming to his captive if a fight broke out.

“Nay, Captain. It’s a navy ship.”

“Keep an eye on them but let them be. We are too busy to have a skirmish with the navy right now.”

“Aye, Captain. I will inform you if anything changes.”

Neji nodded, satisfied that his men would do their jobs properly. He didn’t believe the navy ship would bother them, but he wasn’t going to be caught off guard either. “Good. You may go.”

Turning back to look at his pretty captive, Neji was startled to see the colour had drained from her face and she was shaking even more than on her first day in the hold, when she had been freezing. He frowned, worried that she had suddenly become ill.

“Are you well?” he asked her, trying to keep the concern from his tone. It wouldn’t do him any good if his captive found out he had taken a shine to her.

Her eyes met his, wild and… frightened? What did she have to be frightened about?

“Don’t engage with them,” she said with an unsteady voice. “Please. If they came after you, don’t fight them.”

Was she worried about a battle? No doubt, if this was her first time on a ship, of course she would be a little apprehensive.

Neji tried to give her a comforting smile, though he wasn’t sure it worked. “You do not need to be afraid. My men are skilled fighters, and I will not let harm come to you.”

But his captive was shaking her head, her body shaking uncontrollably. “No, no, no, no. You can’t. Please!”

He wasn’t sure why this was upsetting her, and Neji didn’t know how to comfort her, so he tried to change the topic. “I am getting tired of calling you ‘lady’. Will you tell me your name so I can call you appropriately?”

Her head snapped up to his, as though it was the first time he had asked her the question. She paled further, making Neji more concerned that something was ailing her. “No, I won’t tell you. Maybe…” she paused, thinking, and then met his gaze. “If you flee from them, I will tell you.”

What made her so certain that the navy ship would attack them? Lee had said they were a distance away, and naval ships rarely tried to fight pirates if they did not have backup—they knew pirates had a reputation of fighting dirty. Neji wasn’t worried, but his captive seemed to think it inevitable that a fight would ensue.

“I am afraid that I cannot make such a promise,” he told her. “I am a pirate; if someone wishes to go against me then they will regret it.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could do so Neji heard feet pounding down the stairs to the brig.

“Captain! They are turning astaboard and readying their cannons!” Lee’s voice was loud and urgent in the quiet of the room, but Neji was still able to make out the sharp intake of breath from inside the cell.

“Ready the cannons, then. If a fight is what they want, then a fight is what they shall have.” He stood, knowing his men needed direction, though he didn’t want to leave his captive alone in her cell. A part of him wanted to stay with her and reassure her but he knew he couldn’t. He was the captain of his ship, and it was his duty to make sure they came out victorious from this fight—he needed to be with his crew.

“Wait!” His captive scrambled to her feet and clutched at the cell doors, just inches from where he was standing. Her eyes held fear like he had never seen before. “At least give me a knife or a dagger to defend myself. I’ll die otherwise!”

Neji frowned, not only because she wanted a weapon to defend herself against the navy—people she should be overjoyed to see at that moment—but also because of the finality of her voice. Did she truly believe she would be killed in this skirmish?

“I will not let you die. You will be safe here.” Neji longed to do something more, to prove he would keep his word. But what would it look like to his first mate if he reached through the bars to caress her face? No, that would not be a good idea.

“I will keep you safe,” he promised, his voice low. He fixed his eyes on hers, willing her to believe him, but she shook her head and stepped away from the grates, a look of defeat on her face. She didn’t believe him. Neji was surprised at how much that hurt, but he couldn’t fault her for not trusting him. They may have formed a rapport over the last few days, but she was still his prisoner.

He turned his back on her and made his way up the stairs, his first mate hot on his heels. He would take care of this problem, but he wouldn’t stay away from his captive for long.

It was about time they got to know each other better.

[lucarioisinthevoid]

For the Henry in Hell- maybe N. Balloon Boy, Rockstar Foxy, Scraptrap, and maybe Dave (since Henry wants to talk more with him)?

(Okay, I’m way too fucking tired to make these, but dear god, it’s five AM and I WILL fucking get the Henry in Hell stuff done NOT READ THIS OVER I’LL REGRET THIS AFTER HAVING HAD A NAP. BUT FOR NOW? KICK MY ASS AND CALL ME A CANDY CANE. I’M NOT WASTING MORE TIME. I’LL EDIT IT TOMORROW. ENJOY.)

Does he want to talk to Dave? It’s difficult to say. He wants answers. And Dave seems like the weakest link in the chain. There seemed to be certain beings that influenced how the nights played out. For now, he knew of three for a fact. Most obvious, DeeDee. Henry was considering that perhaps she was connceted to the old man- there was a keen smell of lake water whenever she appeared. At first he hadn’t noticed, but now he couldn’t miss it, no matter how badly his anger flared up when he saw her suddenly jump out from beneath the table, or some sort of black hole of vile darkness, where all the annoying thing festered and cross-bred to create worse and worse- He took a deep breath. Stay calm. … yes, the lake. The lake brought him here, it must have some sort of importance. Being capable of changing the rule of the night… that seemed to be within the lakes domain. Then there was the suit. Of course the suit was special. Remaining behind after the night, during the downtime. Sometimes Helpy and Rockstar Freddy appeared to give advice and little prices ‘for the trouble’, but they never remained for long. Also, both of them were bears. Like the suit. He hadn’t yet found a way to make the suit react to any sort of input from his side, thus testing him and the changes he caused to his environment was almost impossible. Even calling him Goldie drew hardly any reaction from him. The most influence he had seen the suit exert was about the TV program, but his continuous presence still was beyond notable. Now, last was… … Dave. Of course. If there was one person capable of manipulating the souls without even knowing how or that he was even doing it in the first place, it was his purple companion. Sometimes he had wondered if there was such a concept as deliberate chaos manipulation. Another thing he might would have figured out if he would have not been brutally cut off from all his studies. But, no time being bitter. All he need was to figure out the variables at his disposal, then he would be able to manipulate them to his own benefit. There was an exit. This was a trap, a way to contain him, a place consuming energy like any other. And there was a way to shut it down. He merely needed to figure it out. For that, however, he needed to start getting some data. Try out different stimulus. That was what he was ready to do today. He had plenty of positive contact with Dave so far, nothing more seemed to be coming out of it. Despite everything, Dave STILL insisted this here was a great place- and Henry did not care for it. There was nothing he could bribe out of his former friend anymore, he clearly was not being cooperative- so he would show him another side, at the risk of ruining any claim to their friendship forever. … not that there were any traces left after Dave had betrayed him. Valuing his object of obsession over him, spitting in the face of everything Henry had ever done for him. Nightmare Balloon Boy slipped into the room- the night had started. “AND WHAT WILL YOU DO TODAY, TOOTHPICK?” “You will be surprised. I am sure of that…” “YOU THINK YOU CAN SURPRISE ME?” “It is not you I plan to surprise, so it hardly matters.” The animatronic looked at him suspicious. “YOU SEEM VERY CONVINCED ABOUT THIS, SHORTSNACK.” “I am.” That was where Henry stopped the conversation. Saving his energy for the one he was meaning to hurt. He glanced at the Nightmare Balloon Boy, feeling barely anything for him. This creature would not attack- it was too weak to go against the rules, so it would be leering at him while he had the camera up, grinding his teeth. Rockstar Foxy he had actually never met before- and he’d try to avoid him tonight too. For some reason he always had the eerie feeling that this bird would never like him- no matter what he tried. He loved birds a lot. That was why birds tended to stay as far away from him as possible. The plastic nightmare snarked something- But Henry wasn’t listening. He didn’t need him anymore. He didn’t have to talk to him anymore, even if he liked it, even if it was entertaining. Henry’s focus was on one thing only. Dave. Namely, how to rip him apart. Slowly his fingers tapped on the table, as he shortly took down the camera to flash the animatronic in his room, before pulling it back up, looking at the little springtrapped head moving along. … why would the one he shouldn’t have killed give Dave so much ability to manipulate the world around him? To a point that he was even allowed to join him in the office without attacking? Probably because he wanted to see them fight. And frankly- Henry wanted to fight him too. He was tired. And angry. He wanted to face the stupid child and-

Talk to him.

There was no spite for him specifically, in some way he could admire this child and the world he created. The animatronics, all filled with at least some level of personality, and somehow convincing two creatures from beyond to aid him. Yes, there was a lot of raw potential here. Perhaps it could use some guidance. … at least he could TRY. Either he would get out, he would get to teach a high potential being, or- worst case- everything would stay the same. Dear god, this place was BORING him. Boring him like constant nails on chalkboard, boring him like itching teeth and a vile smell. Nothing was truly happening- and it was driving him crazy. Even worse so that Dave claimed this place was great, while still acting as though he was Henry’s best friend. There was something so intensely infuriating about it. It didn’t FEEL like Dave was free himself, but he thought if anyone could help him get out- it would be him. Yet he denied everything- The person who kept him here… All of a sudden a terrible idea grew inside of Henry’s mind. What- What if it was the Orange Guy? At least his long lost soul, biding its time until he could come and- That would explain why Dave was filled with so much life and personality. He WOULD know him. And the guy was extremely talented at convincing those around him to aid his wants. … maybe the child form he had taken on had to do with trauma? Dave himself seemed to have at least a second soul that got stuck back from before his mother died, it would not be too unlikely- not to mention that souls were inherently ageless. Perhaps it had been an act of deception, trying to throw Henry off the trail. Yet- that would leave the question… if the soul was here with him, then what was keeping the Orange Guy alive? He shuddered and tried not to think about it. There had to be something, SOMETHING powering him. Something… No matter what, it would be upsetting to hear his friend being insulted. And his glance on the camera confirmed that it was about to be done. A choice. He had to commit, with his very soul. And he would. The vents rattled, Henry refreshed the ventilation and put down the screen, flashing the Nightmare, before looking up at the vent. Almost instantly, Dave’s eyes shined a pale light out of the darkness. His grin glowed out from under the mask, just to gently shift into innocent confusion. “Henry. Aren’t ‘cha gonna let me in?” Coldly the Pink Man looked at his former friend. “No.” Dave’s grin widened for a moment, thinking it was a little game. “Aw, c’mon! What if I say please? Please lemme in? Pretty please!” “I do not think I will.” It was then that Davetrap caught on that something was going on. His expression shifted again, fully this time around. Worry, confusion and- annoyance. Of course, always the annoyance about defiance, Dave was one and the same as him on this topic. However, Henry at least always had the authority of logic- Dave had nothing, nothing but his unstable emotions and violence to justify his wants and get his way. “… why? What’s the problem, Henry?” “I am done with you.” The word came over Henry’s lips utterly naturally. He meant it. Even as Dave recoiled. The atmosphere in the establishment instantly changed, as well as Dave’s entire expression. It was glowing still, as bright and if not brighter… and plenty of people might misunderstand it as him still having fun, still amused, however Henry knew him better than he knew himself. He knew that was nothing but rage. “What did you say there, friend?” “I told you I am done with you. William, you have done nothing so far but to disappoint me.” There was an art to it- To give just enough of a pause to let the words HURT, but not enough to let a counterargument form- to let any resistance develop. “Frankly, I have given you many chances. Too many changes. Failure after failure was all you brought me however. I put all my effort into you- effort that I could have put into ANYONE else, into a damn PET and it would have served me better.” “You-“ “No. No, William, you do not get to talk. I have kept quiet for too long. Giving you mercy, care, hoping and praying for you to turn into something better- and now look at you. Who do you think you ARE?! Using my generosity? Abusing my patience?! You were useless! You never aided me when it counted, you never LEARNED, you were SELFISH, like an ANIMAL, you were IGNORANT, you were an OBSTACLE- All my WORK, all my LOVE for you, our BOND- It never existed outside of my head, did it?!” “What- Henry, I-“ “WHAT. What do you THINK you can SAY here?! WHAT EXCUSE DO YOU HAVE, I AM DYING TO KNOW! DYING, QUITE LITERALLY, BECAUSE OF YOUR DISLOYALTY, YOU SACRIFICED ME. YOU SACRIFICED ME, AND EVERYTHING WE HAVE WORKED FOR. YOU HAVE NO DIGNITY. YOU HAVE NOTHING YOU CARE ABOUT. YOU ARE A SHAM! A SHELL OF A PERSON! A HEARTLESS MONSTER! AND NOT EVEN ONE OF THOSE THAT ARE OF WORTH, OF VALUE, OF USE! Anything that you provided me with was something I could have reached by myself. All you have done was to hinder me.” Infuriated the guy in the vents hissed. “What the fuck do you think you’re sayin’?! I’VE BEEN-“ Mockingly Henry grinned up at him. “What? What have you been doing? When have you ever been useful? Protected me? Face it, William, I pitied you and that was my mistake. I should have known that there was a reason everyone discarded you before. Once you will be gone, nobody will cry for you- nobody will miss you. The Orange Guy- to him you are merely entertainment. You are a fucking TOY at best- and more so an UNLOVEABLE, REPLACABLE TOOL.” Finish it. One last time. Slowly he stood up, stepping towards the vent. “William. Look at me. I want you to look at me, and I want you to know… … everything would have been better if you never had existed.” With that he closed the vents- both the front and the side one, just in time as the entire room was shaking, flickering, as something hysterical was making its way through it- Both sides of Dave being blocked out, as Henry fell back into his seat, raising his monitor, fixing the ventilation just in time. The night was not long after that. When he returned to the office, the suit was positioned in a way that it was looking at Henry as he entered. … somehow looking disappointed. Accusing. But Henry had no interest in that. Instead his attention was drawn to the board. All animatronics were glowing. The board was RED. Good. It was time.

[rosesisupposes]

Who Tells Your Story?

Pairings: Platonic/Rivals Prinxiety; Royality into MoRoLo (aka Roman has Two Hands); Minor Creativsleep; Remceit; Platonic Moxiety Warnings: Major Character Deaths; Infidelity; Whole Lotta Angst; guns;   Word count: 6,785 Contributions: @potestessemagishomosexualitatis @mariniacipher

This was initially inspired by a snow day and @the-pastel-peach‘s wonderful commission of a Logince Ham/Burr Duel. Then it got angstier

Read on ao3

Edit to add: want to cry more? Listen to this wonderful edit of Dear Theodosia that @notveryglittery sent me 🙃

~~~~~~~~

How does a bastard, orphan, son of a whore and a Scotsman, dropped in the middle of a forgotten spot in the Caribbean by providence, impoverished, in squalor grow up to be a hero and a scholar?

This is a story about Roman Hamilton.

Roman, who has grown up surrounded by people who lived and died without anything, without leaving anything behind but a mourning family and an empty job that'd be staffed soon enough. Roman, hearing about people who were Grand, who were Great, who were Powerful, who left a Legacy of themselves impressed into this world, and he wants. He yearns to be one of those men. The wish, the dream, it swallows him whole, becomes all he can think about, and he reads everything he can get his hands on and writes as much as he can. But when his mother grows sick, he stops, he cares for her, until he grows sick too, and when she dies, he cries and weeps, and it feels like the entire world must have fallen apart because his did.

But the world kept on spinning.

His mother's death left nothing but a mourning son and an empty job that'd be staffed soon enough. And, he knows, with absolute certainty, that he wants, needs, to be more than that. Starts writing non-stop, to get out, get away, rise up. No matter the cost.

When he finally makes it to New York, he falls in love with politics. He also falls in love with men.

Roman, who is charming and beautiful and scrappy as hell. Roman, who's more than a little desperate to prove himself as more than his upbringing. Roman, who walks right into a gorgeous heir to a wealthy man.

The young Mr. Sanders is far too aware of his social status and social responsibilities, the context in which he must act. He's far brighter than anyone gives him credit for, and delights in the revolution because of the new ideas and theories it has introduced into the colonies. He is far too aware of the optics of falling in love with a penniless soldier.

He is also far too aware of how goddamn beautiful Roman Hamilton is. And when Roman and Logan collide - it is sparks. They match each other perfectly, twin burning flames of candlelight dancing in circles.

But then, Logan sees his best and oldest friend. The one he refuses to admit he’s been in love with for years. Patton, the sweet one. Patton, who would never ask Logan to give up anything on his account. Patton, who is helpless.

And Logan is far too aware of all the dynamics involved. Roman can socially climb with Patton just as well. Patton is the second son of the wealthy Mr. Schuyler, so the connection is less important. And Logan... Logan never could deny Patton anything. Not for the one person in the world he is positive is the best person he could ever know. Not for the person he loves best. And so Roman is introduced to Patton with a gallant bow and a witty quip, and now they're both helpless and besotted.

Logan is an excellent friend. He supports their marriage, quietly advocates to Patton’s father on Roman's behalf… And he gives a wonderful toast at their wedding.

~~~~~~~~

Roman's burning need to be more doesn't lessen when he's married to someone as wonderful as Patton. If anything, it makes the need even stronger. He has a family now, even more need for a legacy. He will prove himself, or die trying. He will be whatever the Revolution needs.

And Patton tries to understand, he does. But... he doesn't pretend to know. He wants to be a wonderful husband, and he is. He wants to be a wonderful father, and thanks to the multitude of revolution orphans, he is that too. He adopts their first child Thomas when Roman is out on the front lines. Roman is sent home to be a father, but chafes the whole time at being separated from the fight.

"Roman, look around - look how lucky we are to be alive right now. Alive, and in love, and becoming parents."

"But Pat- the war's not done."

"I know, Ro. But as long as you can stay alive... that would be enough, for me. We don't need a legacy, my love. We can be enough." He takes Roman's hand in his as Thomas is between them, sleeping in his crib. "Together we can be enough."

Those words will haunt them both.

Roman promises to be careful, and even is. He survives the war, at the General's side. He comes home with the news, flush with excitement. He picks Pat up and spins him, he carries Thomas around on his shoulders. Patton finally feels the tension melt away. He's home, finally. The war is done, finally. Now he'll be satisfied, and they can be a family.

The day Roman gets a letter from the President asking him to join the convention, and then the administration - it's the first time Roman and Patton fight.

"I need to do this! I'm being asked to serve my country!"

"You just got home! Could you stay here for a second?"

"Pat, you don't understand-"

"No, I really don't! I don't understand why you want to run away from us the minute you have an excuse?"

"I need to make a difference, Pat!"

"You've made a difference in my life, Roman. And in Thomas’. Can't that be enough?"

Patton's last question hangs in the air as Roman refuses to respond, refuses to even make eye contact.

Roman was about to leave for the capital when a letter arrived. It was from Logan, a long letter written in his steady hand, in his normal flourish-less prose.

"Roman, I'm leaving for England tomorrow. My father found a wealthy sponsor who will help elevate our family. He's... not particularly smart, or clever. No one could match you in that regard, in any case. So please - don't stop writing. Don't stop writing letters to me, don't stop thinking the brilliant thoughts that this country needs. I am happier when I hear from you. All my love to you and Patton [added later:] and Thomas, Logan"

Logan, leaving? Across the sea? Where letters will take weeks and weeks to reach other? Roman almost directs the driver to divert their path. He could go to the wharf, get Logan to stay somehow. Is there something he can do?

“Pat, I… It’s Logan. Would his father marry him off? Are we going to lose him?”

Patton reads the letter silently. “I… I don’t know. I hope not. He’s always been there, I can’t even imagine…”

Roman reaches out for Patton’s hand. “My dearest… what if I asked him to stay?”

“With you?”

“With us. With both of us.”

Patton’s eyes grow wide as a smile stretches across his face. “You would? You’d be okay with that?”

Roman smiles. “I would love nothing more.”

When Logan does leave for England, to study and to work under an accomplished mentor, he does so with a ring on his finger and uncharacteristic butterflies in his heart. He leaves knowing that he will always return, because no matter where he goes, his home will always been wherever Patton and Roman are.

~~~~~~~~

Virgil Burr knew every day of his life that his parents were amazing and impressive and peerless. And then they both died at the peak of their careers, leaving him with just the overwhelming weight of expectations. So yes, of course he hesitates. He has so much to lose. Anything he does could tarnish the Burr legacy. Any wrong step could bring down himself and his parents' good name too. And he admires Roman, even as he's utterly confused. How can be act so brashly? How can he be so sure in himself to not hold back?

And Virgil, well, he doesn't have the best luck in anything. He gets passed over for promotions and assignments because he's so scared of putting himself out there.

And then he falls in love. And of course, that's not easy either.

Emile Picani is beautiful and brilliant and soft. He is also married to a British officer in Georgia. But Emile is beloved by men and women alike and he loves Virgil back. So how could Virgil do anything but wait for him?

Roman and Virgil find themselves in their favorite bar after Roman’s second wedding, when Logan and Patton are off entertaining other guests and old friends of both their families. Virgil confesses that he's been sleeping with Emile, despite the other's marriage.

Roman is baffled. "Virge, if you love this man, go get him! What are you waiting for?"

"I... I can't risk it, Ro. And I'm willing to wait for it."

"But, why? Why not risk it, when the reward is so high?"

"There are just too many factors, so many things that can go wrong. I am the one thing in life I can control."

They don't and never will understand each other, not completely. But they share a need, that burning desire to prove themselves, to belong. Roman, to belong to a family, to have a purpose that can't be replaced. Virgil, to his family, to be an heir they wouldn't be disappointed in. And so their methods will never be fully aligned.

But, at least it works out for Virgil. Emile's husband does get sent back to England and Emile stays. They get a divorce, and Emile at long last becomes Virgil's. They have a son together, named Emile too. He joins them within months of Thomas coming home to Roman and Patton. Roman and Virgil write to each other with a new level of awe they could never have imagined before.

"Pride it not the word I'm looking for - there's so much more inside me now," Roman tells his oldest friend and rival. He quotes his husband, too: "I don't have the vocabulary to describe what I'm feeling inside."

Virgil writes back "When he smiles, he knocks me out - I just fall apart. And we both thought we were so fucking smart."

~~~~~~~~

Even with two loves now bound to him, even with a son who amazes and delights him, Roman cannot bear to stay at home, not when there is work to be done. Rushing back into politics brings Roman back into contact with his favorite and oldest rival, who continues to just not get him. Roman and Virgil clash like an angry cat meeting a dog determined to play: neither really gets why the other doesn't understand their reactions. And yet they move in the same circles, and both have the same undercurrent driving their every move, their every decision: "Prove yourself." Roman needs to prove he can be more than the transient, interchangeable kid he used to be on that tiny island. Virgil needs to prove he is not a disappointment to his parents' memory. He can't be the weak link. And his fear of doing the wrong thing paralyzes him more often than not, even as his ideas and thoughts rival Roman's.

The fights and tension Roman has with other members of the Cabinet are amazing. He feels more alive, just like in the revolution. He has a goal, he has obstacles/enemies, and he knows he has the ability to overcome. It all just makes sense, and it electrifies his blood to be able to be right where he needs to be.

Except, well. There are other places that also need him.

One place that also needs him is London. He does as Logan asked, and keeps writing. They debate the ideas he's bringing to Congress and the Cabinet, they make Shakespeare references constantly, and finally, now, they have the space to tell each other that they love each other. Every letter, every post-script. Patton’s letters are filled with endearments and compliments, just as Logan and Roman’s are insults that weave themselves right into declarations of affection.

Roman has a home office that he practically lives in, those days he's not in the actual office in New York. So Patton knows where to find him when he needs his husband to come be a human downstairs.

"It's Thomas' birthday, Ro. And we know it's a little unorthodox, but he actually has a gift for you!"

Patton beatboxes as Thomas starts to rap and sing, bursting with excitement.

And Roman hears his son singing to him, so proud of the words he wrote himself. Taking after Roman in his musical sense and his uncanny ability with language, taking after Logan in his impeccable timing and rhythm, taking after Patton in his pure delight and sunny nature. And Roman just melts.

"Our son is.... our son is pretty great, isn't he?" he asks his beaming husband, tearing up as he smiles.

"Yes he is," Patton says, hugging Thomas. His insides fill with fuzzy sunlight as he sees Roman sit with Thomas and listen, really listen about all his adventures and the French he's learning, and how hard but rewarding piano is.

"Darling, I know you've been working so hard - don't you think you deserve a break? We're going to my father's house for the summer, all of us. All the children: Thomas and Valerie and Joan and Talyn…”

Roman hesitates. "Work is so busy, there's so much I want to do..."

"Oh but Ro, when I say the whole family, I mean the whole family." Patton takes a letter out with brightness in his smile. "Logan is coming too."

Roman grabs the letter and kisses Patton’s cheek. “We’ll all be together?”

“We will, my dearest. At last.”

And Roman does mean to take a break. He earnestly does.

When Logan arrives off the boat from England, he and Patton immediately embrace, exchanging soft kisses. They've been together since they were children, and they always come first for each other. Always. But then Logan turns and sees Roman and... he's not a hugely expressive man. His face is usually inscrutable to all but those who know him the very best. Patton, however, knows him the very best. He sees the stars swirling in Logan's eyes and he hears the warmth in his love’s normally stoic voice. Hears how Roman, his famously, obnoxiously loquacious husband, is reduced to a single word: "Hi."

His heart is alight, seeing the two men he loves most take each other’s hands, unable to look away from each other even to kiss. No jealousy burns his skin, not even at the edges. It gives him only joy, to know that his husbands love each other so very much, as much as he himself loves them. They’re a family, a balanced triangle. And finally, they can all be satisfied.

Which is why it's so gutting when it turns out, no, it's still not enough. Roman just keeps saying "I can't stop until I get this plan through Congress..."

Patton's and Logan's hands immediately find each other's, just like when they were young. The mutual heartbreak is palpable as they stare back at Roman from the coach taking them away upstate, surrounded by all Patton's and Roman's kiddos.

Is Patton surprised? He is, actually. He thought if he wasn't enough, then he and Logan surely would be. He doesn't think he'll ever be surprised again, though.

If only Roman had just taken a break.

~~~~~~~~

We may never know for sure that it was a plan, a joint scheme between Remy Reynolds and his speculator husband Daniel Reynolds. We may never know if it was perfectly staged for Daniel to be gone from home when Remy collapsed on Roman's doorstop, begging for help.

Between his overpowering sense of chivalry, the ease with which his ego is stroked, and how fucking exhausted he's made himself... Roman isn't quite powerless to resist, but it's close. Roman almost pulls himself away but Remy suddenly has this look that reminds him just too much of his husbands. Who are gone, together, and it’s his own fault he’s not with them, but he misses them both, so much.

And then the letter arrives. The extortion letter. "Dear sir, I hope this letter finds you in good health and in a prosperous enough position to put wealth in pockets of people like me down on their luck - you see, that was my husband you decided to...."

"How could I do this? Why didn't I say no? What am I doing?" Roman despairs, but... where can he go now? He's already done it, and both Reynolds know. The only way this could be worse would be if Patton knew. If Logan knew. So Roman pays. Nobody else needs to know.

~~~~~~~~

Life doesn’t stop when Roman’s morals do. And Virgil Burr is still alive and kicking.

And he finally comes to a decision point when he realizes that Roman's just executed the most ambitious compromise in the nation's history. Compromise is Virgil's thing. Roman has always rolled his eyes at him for wanting to find middle ground between sides, the 'safe' option. And now he turns around and has invented the treasury and placed the capital city all at once? And no one can say exactly... what happened, there. How they got to that point. And Virgil wasn't part of it.

It hits him like a thunderbolt: he wants to do this. If huge accomplishments can happen even through compromise, then he can do it too. This can be how he finally lives up to his legacy. He's sitting in his study when Roman bursts in, furious.

"You just unseated my father-in-law in the Senate? Since when the fuck have you been a Democratic Republican?"

"What the hell, Roman?"

"No, what the HELL, Burr? What were you thinking?"

Virgil is confused. "I finally did what you keep bugging me to do. You know, actually do something for once instead of hesitating."

"But Senator Schuyler? Why him?"

"You're not exactly the most popular dude around, Roman. The connection was what made him weaker."

"I've always considered you a friend, Burr."

"Thanks, but why would that change? This isn't about you. This is about opportunity. Don't let your pride get the way of common sense, yeah?"

Others see the rift forming, and bring Virgil in on a plan to undermine Roman's even bolder plans. They have.... information. Why did it appear just now? Perhaps because there were murmurs that particularly rich senators and cabinet members looking for dirt on one Treasury Secretary.

Roman Hamilton has always, always been a great writer. It's what he's known for, what he's proud of. And thanks to his eloquence and overwhelming prolificacy, it's gotten him out of a lot of narrow spots and dead-ends. So when his political rivals, now supported by Virgil, approach him in an attempt to blackmail him with the info from the Reynolds....

Well, obviously, he's going to write his way out.

Roman figures that the power of blackmail is the target's shame. And the insinuations that he used the money for speculation, that he took funds from the government, when the treasury is his one crowning glory so far? Speculation rumors are clearly going to be more dangerous than the truth for his professional life . Better to get in front of the wave.

The Reynolds Pamphlet hits without warning. Roman, impulsive, dumbass, short-sighted Roman, didn't imagine how huge the uproar could be. He's immediately alienated out of the public sphere, all his influence and credibility shot.

Virgil has lost Emile, in the meantime. Sickness overcame his love, and he and young Emile were left on their own. It makes it all the more baffling when he sees Roman's missteps: how could he possibly risk a love as wonderful as what Virgil had with Emile? How could he even think of such a thing?

Roman’s political career is dead. His dirty laundry is aired to the public. No one will make any deals with him, not when they can just say "well the adulterer supports the opposing position" and walk away the victor. His public life is empty, and his private life…

There was no warning. None at all. Not even a single heads up, even once the pamphlet had been published. His husbands didn't even find Roman's article on their own. Thomas did.

Thomas is in shock and disbelief. How could Dad do this to Papa and Father? Dad is a good man, there must be some mistake, right?

Patton knows there hasn't been. Patton is... devastated, but not surprised. He wishes he could be surprised. Does that make him a terrible husband, that he already thought so little of Roman and still stayed? He finds himself wishing, in a weird, backwards way, that the affair had at least been someone he knew. Then at least, he might know how it could be that he and Logan were both missing something that Roman could only find elsewhere.

Logan, on the other hand, is furious.

His face is a glacier, his blood is ice, and Roman can practically feel the frost sprouting off his lips as Logan glares at him, spitting out, "I'm no longer here for you. How self-absorbed, how selfish do you have to be to think that I would possibly take your side in this?"

The time following the publication sees an angry Logan who refuses to listen to Roman's pleas, who ignores every explanation, who stonewalls every attempt of Roman’s to talk.

"It’s not that it’s another man, you idiot. We’re a polyamorous marriage. No, I’m pissed that you honestly thought that your goddamn ego and reputation mattered more than actually talking to us. Because Patton takes this personally. Our husband is the best person in the world. He is kind, he cares about others' feelings, and he has raised six children to be compassionate young adults. In short, he is everything you're not. So congratulations, Roman. You've done what you always wanted: become famous. Created a legacy that will never die. And that legacy is for inventing a new stratosphere of stupid. I love Patton more than anything in this life, and I have chosen his happiness every time I could. I have chosen it, I will choose it, and I choose it now. I'm back in America to stay, for him and him alone. You took the best thing life could have given you, and you ruined it. So well done, Roman. Congratulations."

Patton does not lash out. There is no reflexive anger or reaction dragged out of him. No, instead, his response is calm, collected. He looks at Roman’s actions and says to himself, "I have seen exactly what you've done and I refuse to give you room to hurt me further."

Yes, he's a storm of hurt and final betrayal.  He has never hated anyone before. But all those years ago he said he'd never be surprised. And he isn't, now. Just disappointed, that he was right all along. He couldn't be enough.

And now he's free. Free to stop trying. Free from trying to drag Roman into being a father to their kids. Free from having to try not to see the glances from other men (and women). Free from having to be a pseudo-widower, who'd lost his husband to politics. Now he decides on his own: Roman is exiled from his half of the house. He can stay in his home office. He can avoid dinners. That's what he did before, didn't he? Patton will stay with his children and remaining husband. Logan and Thomas and Valerie and Joan and Talyn and Terrence and Brittany. All his kiddos. They can be a family on their own. They could never be enough for Roman, but they're enough for each other.

~~~~~~~~

The eldest children are... dealing. Valerie has inherited her Papa's temperament, and throws herself into taking care of her younger siblings. Joan latches onto Father and they follow him everywhere.

Thomas is still in shock. And disbelief.

And he, more than any of the others, has inherited Dad's temperament, and maybe more than a little of Father’s. And he has a strong sense of privacy - no one should be gossiping about this if they're not actually affected. Thomas is on his university campus when he hears of speech publicly disparaging his Dad, saying he's without any redeeming qualities, calling him dumb and unintelligent and both a philanderer and a traitor the the country.

The young man is already burning with anger, and then the speaker throws in a last little gem:

"What more could we possibly expect from a man like that? Of course he was going to show his true nature eventually. Look at his ‘husbands.’"

Now, this man has implicated not only Dad, but Papa and Father, too. And now that patented Hamilton rage is spiking. Thomas walks up and slaps him with a glove, trembling with anger. The ancient call to a duel. The man looks like he just stepped in something slimy, but accepts, naming a time and place.

Thomas walks away and immediately begins to panic. He can't fight! He doesn't even own a gun! But when he pictures trying to withdraw the challenge or back down... he can't do it. Not unless that @%#%$ apologizes.

He runs to his Dad. He's been the only child regularly talking to him ever since the pamphlet, so Roman can't immediately tell something's wrong. But then he sees the familiar fire in his eyes and realizes sadly that it turns out Thomas really is his son after all.

He counsels Thomas (his little Tommy, how is this happening?) to fire in the air to show he's been satisfied of his complaint.

“Don't risk taking a life, son - it's not worth it. Promise me, Thomas. Don't give your Papa another heartbreak."

"Okay, I promise."

"Come back home when you're done. Take my guns. And Thomas,” he hesitates, wanting to tell him to run, hard and fast. He wants to tell him to back down. But the set of Thomas’ chin tells him he may as well tell the boy to fly. “...be smart. Make me proud, son."

Shaking with nerves and anger, Thomas meets the rude man the next morning. He's still polite, following all the etiquette. And then his opponent fires on the count of seven. Of all the times to find out the bigoted speaker from your college is also a marksman.

Roman arrives at the doctor's still panting from the sprint over. It's all his fault. He knows it is. Thomas is pale, too pale, and the bandages around his middle are not.

"Hey, Dad," he says weakly, coughing. "I... I did just as you said. I did just what I promised."

"I know, I know, Thomathy. Shhh, save your strength."

"Why did he still fire, Dad? I was aiming for the sky, I was..."

"I know you were, Tommy. I know. You did everything right, just rest easy, okay?"

Logan takes care of all their children so that Patton can get to the doctor, too. He sprints, and he is already crying the minute he enters. He makes eye contact with Roman, heartbroken, guilt-ridden, definitely-responsible-for-all-this Roman, and glares.

"Who did this, Roman? What did you know about it?"

Thomas interrupts before Roman can answer. "Papa - I'm sorry..."

"Thoma-llama, no, nonono, it's not your fault," Patton says, immediately at his side, gentle and soothing, holding his hand tight.

"Do you... do you remember piano lessons, Papa?"

"Of course I do, kiddo. You always changed the melody, because you liked it more." He smooths the boy's hair. He is still a boy. Only 19, barely out of college, so sheltered, and now....

Thomas laces his fingers through Patton's, the way they did when he was 6 and still learning how to reach the keys. He hums the tune they always played, and Patton hums along, his voice breaking in his throat. Roman stands off to the side. He can't interfere in this moment. Patton was the Papa who mattered - actually there for their children when they needed him. Actually a father. Roman never spent enough time and now... he's out of time.

Patton holds Thomas tight, long after his time is gone. If he can just hug him tight enough, it won't be real. How can he believe this is real? It's... it is unimaginable.

~~~~~~~~

Roman and Patton move numbly through life. Logan is not emotionless, no, but he powers through. He helps the family move from the house where Thomas was born, relocating further uptown. Hiding from the shadows, and the memories.

Roman is utterly and thoroughly a broken man. He ruined his career, his hurt both his husbands, he's burned his friendships, and his family is shattering. He shuffles around the city in a daze. He accompanies his remaining children to school and lessons. He eats mechanically at the dinner table. And all it takes is the slightest reference to Thomas for him to fall apart.

Patton is too connected to the children to shut down, and they know him well enough to not expect the same happy pappy Papa. He's just a little bit colder. A little bit sharper around the edges. More easily startled. Valerie, who was always the closest with Papa, climbs into his lap all the time. She knows he needs affection the most right now. The younger kids make crafts for him, and they sing his favorite songs. If only his favorite songs hadn't been Thomas' favorites, too.

One night, after the children are asleep, Roman finds Patton staring blankly into the distance in the living room.

"I... I know I don't deserve you, Patton. But could you just... listen, if you will let me? Just knowing you can hear... that would be enough."

Patton doesn't turn or nod, but his eyes shift. He can hear. He's not moving away.

"If... If I could spare his life, Pat. If I could trade his life for mine, he'd be here now, and you would be smiling and... that would be enough for me. I know there's no way that can happen - we can't replace what we've lost, but... if you could just let me stay here, in this house. At your side. That would be enough."

The refrain might have broken Patton's heart, if he had enough left to break. But instead, without looking, he takes Roman's hand in his. He might not say it now, or ever, but he needs every family member now. That's enough to forgive him.

Patton needs both his loves. And Logan can understand that, can forgive Patton for forgiving Roman. But he hasn't let go of his anger with their husband. Not yet. Logan blames Roman a little more than Patton does, even though he knows it's unfair. but casting blame is easier than looking inwards, at his own flaws, at where Thomas might have gotten his stubbornness and hotheadedness.

It seemed like there would be years to be mad at him, for Roman to prove he'd changed, to learn to forgive. Patton knew Logan was beginning to come around, as Roman rededicated himself to his family. Seeing Roman so gentle with Patton and the children, Logan starts to feel the seed of something there again. But not all seeds are destined to grow. And some don’t grow fast enough.

~~~~~~~~

Even in the face of hearts shattering and families breaking, the indifferent world keeps spinning. Even in the face of personal devastation, the thrum of politics doesn’t quit.

Virgil is running for president in a crowded primary, against one of Roman's most antithetic rivals. But he won't take any positions. Too nervous about being rejected, he continues to hedge, and compromise, and avoid hard stances. He's learned how to hide behind a charming mask. He talks to people, and smiles and laughs, and buries his nervousness behind bluster (Who is he modeling his bluster after? The former prince of pride, of course). He's openly campaigning. It's new. And honestly, it's more than a little draining.

But the convention comes to a dead tie, and the only person left in the party who's able to weigh in is Roman. Despite his numbness, he's never forgotten why he cared so much about wanting to help his country. He still believes in its people and its promise. So after the 20th letter asking for his opinion... he declares publicly that he supports Virgil's opponent.

"What the fuck?"

"What?"

"You supported him? Over me? Really?"

"He had positions. And beliefs. I don't know what yours are."

“At least I have morals.”

The rage simmers, hot and itchy below his skin. Who is Roman of all people to act better than him? To casually derail his biggest ambition? He asks for an apology, and acknowledgment, anything. Roman responds with a literal list of issues on which they've disagreed, "any one of which I could use as equal basis to oppose your candidacy."

The barbs fly back and forth, neither man backing down, apologizing, or conceding a point. Virgil, for the first time, feels entirely compelled to act, the quiet voice telling him to 'wait' strangely absent.

“I'll see you at Weehawken, at dawn, Mr. Hamilton. Bring your pistols."

Roman wakes Patton by accident that morning, sitting at his desk, writing.

"Ro, come back to bed, please?" his wonderful husband asks sleepily. "What are you writing?"

"Nothing you need to worry about yet, love. I just... I have an early meeting. In New Jersey. I'll... see you later, okay?"

Patton nods and is snoring again by the time Roman's walked to the door. He takes a look back, and returns to the bed to softly kiss Patton's temple. He walks past Logan’s bedroom, too. He’s not yet been allowed back, even as Patton spends as many nights there as with Roman. But knowing what he’s about to do, he stops and steps in, quietly.

Logan is so much softer when he sleeps, and Roman's heart fills as he sees the slight smile. He carefully, softly, so gently it can't be felt, places a kiss on Logan's cheek. He can't wake him, can't ask for forgiveness beforehand. That would be leaning on guilt and fear, and he would never manipulate his love in that way. So he just writes a letter.

He doesn't address it with a name, but leaves it in the kitchen where both Patton and Logan will find it. On the outside of the folded letter, in Roman's bold hand, is one phrase for both his hearts:

“Best of husbands, Best of men"

~~~~~~~~

Staring at his one-time friend in the cold, misty air, Roman tries to remember the vigor he used to feel. The fire of wanting to defend himself. The burning passion of being right. He can't find it in himself anymore. But he recognizes it in Virgil's eyes.

Virgil’s anger has changed from a cold weight in his chest to a fiery stream spewing from his mouth and pen, the fire before the smoke of his pistol. He is driven by his age-old hunger, yes, but by another need, too: that this man will not make an orphan of his son.

Is it a selfish need? Of course. Roman's children will lose a father. But they'll have two left over if he falls, while Emile, Jr. would be utterly alone. And even if his pride lets Virgil concede, his love for his son won't.

For once in his life, Roman thinks and reacts a bit too slowly. Both combatants follow the proper steps, but he doesn't decide where to aim his pistol until the count has already reached 9. And Virgil is shaking with anger still when the his finger depresses the trigger on 10.

Of all the times not to miss.

Just as he fires, he sees Roman lift his gun up, and up, and it's pointing towards the sky and WAIT!

The one time he should have hesitated more, and he didn't. He was too young and blind to see that Roman's approval would never have been enough, that his disapproval wasn't why he didn't feel accepted. The world could have been wide enough for both of them.

And now, history will remember him as just... a villain. He will always be remembered for what he destroyed, not what he made. He will always, always be the bad guy. The worst part is he agrees. He thinks he deserves it. He shouldn’t have tried to act decisively, shouldn’t have gone against his regular actions

Patton and Logan can’t help resenting him. Politics isolates him. And just in case the universe wasn’t clear enough that his actions have consequence, he loses Emile. Again.

His son dies at sea not two years later, and Virgil is left alone.

~~~~~~~~

Imagine, if you will, Logan and Patton drying their eyes and taking the remaining Hamilton children to Washington, D.C. Logan and Patton continue to campaign for the end of slavery, for President Washington’s monument to be completed. Logan brings the policy, Patton brings the heart. Logan shows how feasible it could be. Patton shows why it’s necessary.

By the time old age claims Logan, Patton is stronger, more able to live on his own. His children have grown, and he has too. Logan is buried next to Roman, back in New York, and Patton will join them one day. Them and Thomas, in the family plot.

But Patton looks at the world and asks, “What more can I do?”

He and Roman wouldn’t have been so well matched if he didn’t understand that need to help, to do more, to make a mark on the world around him. Patton and Logan would never have loved so deeply if Patton didn’t understand what it took to make real change happen. Patton’s mark just never had to be a huge, sweeping legacy. The smallest change in someone’s life could be enough.

Roman’s biggest weakness was never feeling like he was enough- because he never fit in. He never felt truly at home. So Patton looks at the children of the city and says, “I will build you a home.”

Patton visits Roman’s grave each year, and one year brings pictures

“Roman, love, can I show you what I’m proudest of?”

The orphanage.

“I established the first private orphanage in New York City. I help raise hundreds of children, and dear one- I get to see them growing up. In their eyes, I see you, Roman. I see you and your hunger, I see Thomas and his optimism, I see Logan and his brilliant mind. I see us, all of us. I see our family and our love.”

And there’s yet so much more he can do.

~~~~~~~~

Virgil draws back from the public life, invests in public libraries, and tries to do what he can to create scholarships and opportunities for young people like he’d been. Like Roman had been. One day, when he’s aged and grey, he gets a knock on the door of his New York home.

“Hello, pardon me, are you Virgil Burr, sir?”

“I, Uh. Depends who’s asking?”

“Oh sure, sir. My name is Patton Hamilton. I’ve been looking for you.”

Patton knows that no one, no one spent as much time with Roman on the intellectual side. No one knew his political approach quite so well. Virgil spent so much time studying it, trying to understand, and he knows every aspect. So when Pat wants to enshrine his husband’s political legacy, he knows who he needs to talk to.

If there’s one thing Patton is good at, it is forgiveness. And Virgil has needed it for so very, very long. He helps publish the book of Roman’s writing, his letters and treatises. He helps build the Hamilton library. He consults on the business side of the orphanage.

And Patton, at his annual gravesite visits, tells Roman. One year, Virgil comes with, once he’s finally convinced he won’t be interfering. He stares at the gravestone, throat tight, eyes full.

Finally, he manages to say, “I’m sorry, Ro.”

He leaves a quill at the base of the stone. And parchment to write on. He never visits again, but he doesn’t need to. He knows there’s nothing more to say.

~~~~~~~~

As Patton ages, and knows he’s reaching the end of his life, his only true regret is wondering, “Have I done enough? Will the world remember us, and you? Will they tell our story?”

But ultimately, that’s not what matters. What matters is that he has done his best, and that one day soon, he will see them all again. Logan, and Roman, and Thomas… it’s only a matter of time.

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