#this and the next Installment aren't terribly long

[capucapo]

Legendary Heroes: The Tutorial (part 1)

( chatlog from my discord RP with @nameless-brand, based on the alternate version of the Legendary Heroes VR game created by the Kaiba Corporation in Sato, Lev, and Chi's current universe. )

It doesn't feel good, keeping secrets from his brother. But while the subtleties of Kaiba Seto's emotions usually go unnoticed by most, Mokuba's noticed his brother's spirits seem brighter. Maybe it was destroying Alcatraz, maybe it was their overseas adventure, maybe it was the beach trip. But recently, Seto seemed happier. Maybe when he'd achieved his dream of destroying the past, Mokuba's dream of seeing his brother smile again had come true as well.

Which is exactly why he can't drag Seto back into that past again.

So instead, he finishes up some final tasks and logs out of his computer before retrieving the helmets that Sato had sent over from where he'd stashed them inside his filing cabinet. The devices would hardly fit into his messenger bag, but luckily he doesn't exactly need to use the front door. A few button presses on his watch, and the office around him is instantly replaced by his bedroom at home.

Now, he can finally get to work.

He locks the heavy double doors to his massive bedroom, not that his brother or any staff would dare to open them without knocking anyway. Then he moves to his desk. The large L-shaped desk is mostly occupied with a multi-monitor gaming setup. He unplugs one monitor, moving it to the floor to make room for dismantling the damaged helmet. Moves aside his keyboard to set up an older, cheaper laptop in front of his main monitor. Once the computer finishes its start up, he plops himself into his gaming chair.

First, he plugs the USB into the laptop. He keeps it around just for times like these, testing mystery thumb drives, viruses, and exploring less trustworthy websites. A familiar box pops up, indicating the program attempting to run requires administrator permission, and Mokuba clicks okay with only a little hesitation.

He can work on taking the helmet apart while the intaller runs, he figures.

>> Installing ALTIMIT OS. Please do not shut down your computer.

As the install begins, Mokuba turns to the helmet on the other half of his desk. A few minutes is a long time for this boy to sit still, after all. He clicks on a task light, adjusting the beam to shine directly upon the task at hand. Produces a set of small tools from a drawer in the desk, and starts the delicate task of disassembling the device, making careful mental note of where each piece goes.

It only takes a few minutes to install the new operating system, and it immediately booted up upon running.

He doesn't get very far before the laptop to his side reboots, marking the end of the new OS's installation. He swivels his chair back to that side of the desk to examine this new system.

The reason for the near instant boot-up and quick install became evident. The ALTIMIT OS design was almost pathetically simple to the modern day computers.

All there was was "The World", "Mailer" "News", "Accessory", "Audio", and "Data" on the left side of the screen, their icons spinning slowly - and nothing else.

He'll start by poking around the surface first. The World must be a euphemism for the Internet, he assumes as he moves his cursor to double tap the icon, only to be presented with an error message. He frowns, and moves on to the next two icons with similar, disappointing results.

The World, Mailer, and News icons do not work, simply displaying a "Failed To Connect. Please check if you have a KC@Home Account." Accessory seemed solely dedicated for desktop wallpapers and nothing else. Audio naturally had the music files in a list with multiple folders for sorting and grouping.

The next two icons at least work, opening their respective windows, but they're hardly helpful. He changes the desktop wallpaper to one of the defaults offered, clicks a few audio files, then quickly moves on.

Data however is where things get interesting. The interface is similar to Windows Explorer, and the files previously presented on the Computer are listed as normal. However, attempts to load an executable program that isn't standard Windows, Apple, or Linux suite will display an "Incompatibility Error." Running viruses and malware directly from Data will also immediately fail, though part of that may simply be that the virus / malware is incompatible with the OS.

Loading an anti-virus or anti-malware program will prompt the following: "ALTIMIT OS does not require anti-virus or anti-malware due to its secure design and is incompatible with such programs. It is recommended you seek a refund of your anti-virus program."

There he finds familiar files from the laptop's last experiments, as well as some select media he'd wanted to save with a bit more privacy. Everything seems normal there. He tries to open a couple programs, with mixed success. Beyond the standard programs, nothing previously installed seems to run. Not surprising, they weren't coded with this third-party OS in mind. This does, however, prevent him from utilizing the sandboxing program he would typically use when testing potentially harmful programs.

Which could have been a real issue when he decides to test a malicious string of code.

The attempt at running malicious code within the OS does trigger something. A small packet is silently sent to a server KCAltimit ***.**.***.*** containing the following code XH1930ACD-0 despite firewall protections. and only detectable if one was watching closely.

Oh, now that's interesting. This being Mokuba's natural environment, of course he notices that, if there's a way to. However, for now there's little he can do with the information.

He spends a few more minutes poking around, attempting to explore any hidden or administrative files or folders before returning his attention to the helmets.

The OS is incredibly simple for an operating system, though that can be seen from the desktop display. No hidden or administrative files could be found in the clean install. Even at a glance, it was a very tight OS - one could say there's no room to inject bad code into the core components. Though the OS does display its files openly in the Data Explorer under the ALTIMIT folder, they do not open.

The attempts at poking around in the core files does send another packet to the KCAltimit server, except now the content is XH1930ACD-1.

Hm.

He's still in the process of dismantling the broken one. But as for the intact one.... He picks it up from its spot on the carpet beside his desk. Even with the operating system, would it even work without a KC@Home Account? Either way, he's not exactly eager about putting this thing on. His experiences with Virtual Reality haven't exactly been positive.

He turns the helmet over in his hands, brows knit as he tries to figure out how to activate the device, how to connect it with the system.

Simply palming the functional egg-shaped helmet and putting it near the laptop would cause the laptop to display a new window.

>> Genuine KaibaCorp NetGear Deep Immersion device detected. Would you like to Sync the NetGear to the ALTIMIT OS and start Calibration? Please note that playing Legendary Heroes requires a KC@Home account, and you will be able to make an account after calibration.

Faint cyan lines on the egg-shaped helmet glow like a futuristic helmet as if inviting the user to wear it.

He notices the new pop-up that appears as he holds the helmet, taking a second to read the text-- and to ignore the way those cyan lights make his stomach turn. It quickly becomes clear that the process can't continue unworn, either, and Mokuba's stomach sinks further.

He stares at the glowing helmet apprehensively. Gives the half dismantled one a glance. Maybe he should wait. Maybe he should finish poking around, get a better understanding of the tech before he dives right in.

Maybe he's in over his head.

He remembers his last two Virtual Reality experiences. Remembers the illusory egg-shaped capsule that Other Yugi had trapped him within, and the aversion to compact places he'd been left with.

Maybe he should just get his brother.

He remembers the last text conversation with Seto. That he's not careful enough. That he couldn't have saved them from Noa without help.

He takes a deep breath. Then he and clicks okay to begin the calibration, and dons the helmet.

[romance-rambles]

modern alkaid | the duality of pining

Alkaid's first night at in The Intermission goes badly. The next day, however, turns out for the better—as it so happens, the girl he loves might love him back.

6.3k, set during TE3, alkaid-typical anxiety + pining + happy ending, reader is mc, series: none

IF ALKAID LEAVES HIS ROOM and walks in a straight line, remembering to take a right turn before he crashes into the wall, he will come across an ordinary door.

It is blue in color, with a pop of silver provided by the cool-toned hardware. Many like it can be found installed in every door frame housed by Mrs. Santos' hotel; within Alkaid's suite alone, there are three examples to choose from—the front door, his door, and...

The door that belongs to you.

An ordinary door, made extraordinary by the girl staying in the room behind it—by you, the girl of his dreams. The one who'd fished him out of the snow and watched the aurora alongside him. The reason he'd chosen to go to St. Shelter Academia in the first place.

It's like something out of a dream, really.

To think you're sharing a suite with him—that he's separated from you by only a short trek to your door. There's a common area in between, and it would be so easy to waste the night away, chattering about something—or nothing—whilst sitting on the sofa.

How wonderful it would be to walk outside his room and be able to check up on you. To ensure that when you need someone by your side the most, you're not alone, even if you keep your secrets close to your chest.

He has some too, after all.

It only matters that you're okay.

And even taking into account their relationship status, the situation has all the markings of something that could be so terribly domestic that he can't help but want.

In the morning, you'll both walk into the lounge after, hopefully, a good night's sleep on your part. You might forget to brush your hair, and when he playfully points out your bedhead, you'll grouse about how perfectly awake he seems to be.

Alkaid will only laugh, painfully aware of how much he adores you. As you fix your hair in the bathroom mirror, oblivious to his longing glances, you'll strike up a random conversation with him—probably related to food. After freshening up, the two of you will head down together, and he will do his best to ignore Mrs. Santos' knowing looks.

And tonight, once you've relaxed a little, you'll probably go take a—

He pauses his thoughts there, before they can spiral to places he knows would make you uncomfortable, if you ever learned of them. After all, his keen gaze had not missed the flash of uncertainty that crept into your otherwise relieved expression that morning. Nor had he missed the way you'd locked yourself in your room the moment you entered the suite.

The daydreams he holds dear are likely the last thing crossing your mind right now. No matter how comfortable you may be with his presence, there are some concerns that aren't easy to shake off.

It is a fact Alkaid knows painfully well.

With a sigh, he sits up on his bed, legs still hanging over the edge. Considering the speed with which you agreed to spend the night with him—in the suite—he suspects you didn't want to trouble him with the task of finding a place for you to stay.

You must be regretting your choice right about now.

At that thought, his lips pull into a frown. Will you...will you be able to sleep well tonight?

You made it no secret that you enjoyed exploring this quaint little town. So much so that before they had returned to the homestead, the two of you briefly discussed your plans for tomorrow, vague and unfinished as they were.

A rough night is the last thing you need.

He could never forgive himself if you walked out your door, bleary-eyed and exhausted—with only enough energy to eat breakfast before you went back to your room to nap.

Pulling himself out of his thoughts, as a plan forms in his head, Alkaid stares at his door.

It does not have the privilege of being made extraordinary simply because of the person residing in the room behind it—it is an ordinary door, as it had been this morning, and every other time he'd stayed in this particular suite. But it is through this door that he can make amends.

In that regard, he supposes it deserves some kind of credit.

THOUGH THE HOTEL DOES OFFER room service, he's always preferred to go down to the kitchen and grab the simpler orders by himself.

These days, Mrs. Santos only tends to sigh as she waves him back to his room. Sometimes, she'll let him make his order himself if she's busy. But when he'd first started this habit, after she'd offhandedly mentioned how exhausted she'd become after a day's work, he'd been met with some amount of resistance.

It had taken almost a year to wear her down.

"Here you go: a warm glass of milk," she says, handing him the glass. There's a knowing glint in her eyes, but it does not sufficiently prepare him for her teasing. "Are you having trouble sleeping? She's such a nice girl—I can see why you like her."

Alkaid flushes, instinctively spluttering out an unintelligible defense of his crush on you. Mrs. Santos only laughs wistfully and pats his shoulder. Her husband had died a few years ago—she's likely remembering him.

The thought helps him regain some of his lost composure. Unfortunately, by the time he clears his throat, she's already ushering him back to his room. He has no time to explain that the glass of milk is actually for you, or that he'd appreciate it if she'd tone down the teasing.

After all, he suspects her good-natured teasing likely contributed to your extreme discomfort at being alone with him.

He can still feel the lingering warmth of your hand from when you subconsciously held his hand, in order to escape Mrs. Santos' words. It is overshadowed by the heartache that comes with the memory of the distance you'd maintained early on in their day out, before you seemed to grow tired of your hypervigilance.

Alkaid makes a mental note to discuss it with her tomorrow as he climbs up the stairs, back to the second floor. It wouldn't do for you to be uncomfortable in your own suite.

But for now, all he can offer you is this glass of warm milk he's put on the table.

"Are you awake?" he asks softly, though the light seeping out from your room gives him a good idea of the answer.

When you first respond, your voice is startled and a bit shaky.

You repeat your words again. It still doesn't sound like the voice of someone comfortable with his presence outside her door. Instead, there's a hint of urgency in your words, one that screams at him to leave you alone.

The sound breaks his heart into such tiny pieces that it would take centuries to piece them together. Somehow, Alkaid manages to pull himself together quickly, carefully collecting the shattered fragments for his future self to deal with.

"I've ordered you a glass of warm milk. It's on the table," he tells you, keeping his tone upbeat and cheerful—just slightly above a whisper. "Drink up and rest well."

His hand is splayed out against the door's surface. Alkaid can't help but wonder: are you on the other side, holding out your hand like he is?

It seems almost disrespectful to ponder the thought.

After all, he knows it isn't true. That would imply that the respective situations they've both found themselves have any sort of equivalence, beyond the discomfort they both feel. And even that is different, in its source—you do not want to be here, and he wants what will make you the happiest.

Reluctantly, remembering he can't stay here forever, he pulls his hand away. You'll need to come out in order for his plan to be successful, after all. And the fact that you didn't open the door right away means you won't feel comfortable if you know he's there.

"See you tomorrow," he says, before returning to his room to grab a change of clothes.

All things considered, Alkaid's uncertain whether you'll take a shower. But just in case, he'd like to finish up quickly. The sun has long set, and though you aren't a stranger to staying up late, he doesn't want to impose on you more than he already has.

Quietly, he slips inside the bathroom—stares at the worried young man watching him from the mirror. He can't help but remember when he'd spotted you from the balcony overlooking the courtyard. Not for the first time, he'd thought his senses had betrayed him.

Alkaid was in the middle of wondering if you'd like his quaint little escape back then. Then, you were there, observing the courtyard and telling him about how your accommodation woes. The spare room in his suite, he'd thought, was only going to rot.

After all, what good would the privileges at his disposal be if he could not aid the girl he loves in her time of need?

"What should I do?" he wonders out loud as he runs his fingers through his hair. How can I make things better?

The man in the mirror does not offer him a response.

THE LIGHT IN YOUR ROOM is still on when Alkaid walks out of the bathroom and into the living room.

His hands pause their gentle drying of his damp hair. The towel they'd been using—a light blue one, in keeping with the theme of the suite—droops, the bulk of its weight coming to rest atop his shoulders. Alkaid pulls at the fabric and, from the back, wraps it snuggly around his neck.

As he is, he must look like quite the sight. Lips parted in surprise, and bright green eyes transfixed on the siren song that is the warm light seeping out from under your door—

And oh, what a beautiful song it is, drawing him to its domain so skillfully that the memory of his short trek escapes him.

All Alkaid knows when he comes to is that he is standing at your door once again, loosely curled hand poised to knock. Uncertainty leaves it lingering in the air, a few painful centimeters away, right before it resumes twisting his heart into another painful arrangement.

That the warm glass of milk he'd brought up for you seems to have vanished from its place on the table provides little relief. How can it, when his mind seems insistent on playing round after round of its latest obsession?

(Are you awake?

Are you asleep?

Are you in the midst of a beautiful dream?)

And the only one who can free him for the never-ending cycle does not wish to see him.

THE NUMBER OF SPARKLES FROLICKING in the grass turns out to be nine. Twelve, five, nineteen, forty-nine—after a few rounds of the game, he turns to his side. A stray thought about his cat's friendship with Beanie distracts him from his counting, and he is forced to discard the results of the sixth game.

He soon turns to his other side.

Sleep does not come to him that night. When he moves on from counting ragdolls, Alkaid distracts himself by softly singing a lullaby. It does not work. He switches, instead, to wishing on some distant star, hidden by the half-darkened ceiling.

That does not work either.

Eventually, he gives up and opens his eyes.

The town outside is quiet. Only his breathing disturbs the silence. Somewhere beyond the foot of his bed, a blue nightlight glows softly. His phone, once he retrieves it from the nightstand, reads 2:00 AM on the lockscreen, above a photo of Sparkles.

A pair of arms—clothed in a familiar, baggy beige sweater—hold his beloved ragdoll in place, atop your lap. The peace sign your hand had been making is just barely visible, most of it having been cut off when he'd cropped the photo. Your braid happens to fall in front of Sparkles, who eyes it with ill-intent.

Alkaid's never asked whether you'd be okay with him putting you as his lockscreen, because you'd been the one to offer this one up. He remembers you smiling oddly once he showed you the finished product. You would go on to show him that same smile again—when, after mulling over your expression, he concluded it was some sort of test, where the correct answer was no, and made amends accordingly.

It goes without saying that he's never tried changing it after that. He can't, not when you have your own version of it with Beanie on your phone.

Glee had sharpened your smile into something teasing when he took notice of his inclusion. Just his arms, the same as in his own lockscreen. You made no effort to hide how much of it was motivated by some kind of spite, but the same went for how much you adored it.

Because whenever you'd look at it, your gaze would grow soft. It was as if you were watching something so incredibly precious—a treasure you would not trade for the world.

And like clockwork, a traitorous part of him would wonder if some of that affection was aimed at him.

"I'm sure—" Exhaling deeply, he traces the curved path your arms take with his thumb. Once, you'd mentioned the shape's resemblance to a heart; he hasn't been able to unsee it since then. "—whoever that ends up being instead will be the luckiest man in the world."

And perhaps Alkaid will get to reintroduce himself to him, if their friendship survives the night.

It has to.

After all, he hasn't gotten the chance to show you the pictures he took today, some of which, as usual, feature you among the sceneries of Mrs. Santos' hometown. His favorite is the one he took of you watching the sunset.

The warm colors of the sun had imparted a golden hue on your hair. Your back was to him; your hands were tied behind your back. A gentle breeze disturbed the serene moment at the same time you turned around.

With a press of a button, your welcoming smile became forever memorialized—and it will remain so, for as long as you want to keep it.

And he will remain by your side, for as long as you want to keep him.

MRS. SANTOS IS ALREADY TENDING to her garden when he comes down to the courtyard.

The moon is faintly visible in the sky, even as the lightened skies beckon the sun to climb out from under the horizon. As usual, Alkaid passed by only a few stragglers in the common area downstairs. You were not one of them.

Because before he left the room, your snoring could be heard from the living room.

Even on an ordinary day, when you don't have classes, there'd still be some time before you wake up. Today, he expects you'll need at least an hour more and—

Alkaid blinks as a yawn cuts through his thoughts. Unwilling to grant him the possibility of dodging the same accusations, his concealed eyebags remind him of their presence. They sit heavy on his undereyes; it is enough to have him contemplating a nap.

"Good morning, Alkaid."

That doesn't mean he'll go through with one.

When he pulls his hand away from his mouth, a polite smile awaits Mrs. Santos. He nods, returning her greeting as he would on any other day. Yesterday's vow remains fresh in his mind, quietly but insistently urging him to speak up.

"There's something I wanted to discuss with you," he says, his tone both firm and polite.

The older woman looks concerned. With some difficulty, she stands up, a hand on her knee offering her some support. Mrs. Santos puts away her gardening tools and observes him carefully.

"That's not something I hear everyday," she says, her tone humorous. He feels his shoulders relax slightly. "Why don't I brew some tea first?"

Without skipping a beat, he agrees. "Alright, I'll come with—"

She disappears inside before he can finish. Alkaid follows her. When they both return, sometime later, he is dutifully carrying a tray with three cups and a tea kettle, and Mrs. Santos is quietly grumbling about it.

They go through the familiar motions in silence—arranging the cups and pouring the tea. The third cup is left empty, though neither of them discuss why. It is their understanding, implicit, that if you come down stairs, you certainly won't say no to some tea.

When all is said and done, he begins to speak. It's a rather long-winded speech, something he's come to expect when it comes to you. You did not go out of your way to ask this of him—it would not be fair if you were judged for it.

"So, I'd appreciate it if you didn't tease us about our—" His mouth seems to have some difficulty sounding the word relationship out. Alkaid swallows with great difficulty. "She isn't interested in me, in that way."

Surprise registers on her face, eyebrows knitting together. She purses her lips, then opens her mouth. It closes before she can say anything at all. Her lips purse into a thin line.

"I see," she murmurs. A realization dawns upon her. "Has she—"

Cutting herself off, without prompting, Mrs. Santos shakes her head. Even so, he knows what the question on her lips was. Because Alkaid has wondered the same thing before.

Has she said that?

He brings the teacup to his lips. In doing so, he manages to cover up the downturned edges that speak of his thoughts on the matter—the hopes he once clung to, the ones he still can't shake off.

Have you said that?

You haven't.

You've never commented on how often he happens to be passing by your house, a box of cake in hand. Or how your friend Stella seems to be of the (correct) opinion that he's in love with you, a fact she makes sure to bring up every time she sees him. Or how you end up so often on his camera reel that it's much easier to count how often you don't.

What you have said is that you like spending time with him. That when you end up in a slump, he's the person you think of. And when you finish a painting, he's the first person you think of. And when you're doing nothing at all—

But they say actions speak louder than words.

Your actions last night can't speak any louder. The only way for him to reconcile your distant behavior with your general eagerness to spend time with him is simple.

You do love him, just not in the way he loves you.

"Alright, I suppose I got ahead of myself," she agrees. "It's such a shame. She's the first—you would've made such a good couple."

Alkaid puts down his cup, narrowly avoiding a catastrophe as he swallows down the rest of his tea, just in time. Zaph had told him something similar when he'd returned from his trip. That everything about him screamed he was in love.

He supposes time has only made it more noticeable.

"Thank you." Tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, he smiles weakly at her. The moment he retracts his fingers, it slips back out. "I hope she'll be able to enjoy her trip fully."

Mrs. Santos only smiles sadly at him.

YOU COME DOWNSTAIRS EARLIER THAN expected.

The tea is still warm, and Mrs. Santos has yet to finish her usual rounds of the courtyard. When he asks about how you slept, whether your early rise is related to him in any way, you stumble over the only word that slips out.

"N—no," you say, discomfort flitting across your startled expression.

Alkaid doesn't get the opportunity to clarify your wording. Before long, you're sitting beside him on one of the white chairs, hands wrapping around your cup. He pours you some tea, carefully eyeing the steady stream of steaming liquid to ensure you don't get splashed.

You do not have the face of someone who would rather be anywhere but here. After taking a sip, you sigh happily. Eyes narrowing fondly, he smiles and pours you another cup when you finish.

It is with that same gaze that he watches you accept Mrs. Santos' flowers. You cradle them in your arms gently, their light purple color a lovely contrast to your cream cardigan. Then, you turn around and Alkaid forgets how to breathe.

Whatever it is the older woman says register in his mind as a jumbled mess of sounds, like a series of words he ought to be familiar with. The longer you watch him, the easier it becomes for his true thoughts to slip out.

You are, and always will be, the most lovely person in the room. You're—

"Beautiful," he says earnestly, his gaze lingering on your nervous smile.

By the time his mind catches up to his mouth, it is, in some ways, too late to worry about how you'll react.

A flush creeps up your neck, to your cheeks and the tips of your ears. On one side, the latter is made more prominent when you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear awkwardly.

You almost seem pleased with the compliment.

He does not think about it. Not now, not when Mrs. Santos ushers you back to the table and you set your flowers to the side, in a vase at the edge of the table. Dark purple meets green as you sit down, your lips curving into a gentle smile.

Last night's worries keep him from enjoying the sight properly.

In the background, Mrs. Santos is asking about something. Alkaid hears his name and yours—and the word together. The look the older woman sends his way leads him to believe she doesn't see the problem with her question.

It says, See? I didn't tease either of you.

Seemingly unaffected by the question, you take a big bite of a chocolate-filled croissant. Your blissful expression is perhaps the biggest compliment you could pay the older woman—second to only the way you reach out for seconds.

As you lick off the leftover chocolate on your lips, your hand hovers over the assortment of breakfast items before gleefully plucking another two croissants from its plate. Meanwhile, his plate remains untouched.

Alkaid chews on his lip, worried that perhaps you're doing too good of a job at being polite.

"Well, Alkaid here—" You reach over and nudge his elbow. "—promised he'd show me around town again. I hope that's still in effect?"

You say that as if he'd ever say no to you. He chews thoughtfully on a pastry and wonders if that might be a good thing. In that case, perhaps you'd feel less pressured to do things with him—

But your expectant gaze returns his thoughts to their normal direction.

"Of course," he answers, condensing all his longing into only two words.

The third one borders on a near-confession—an implicit acknowledgement of his affection—so he leaves the Anytime out of it. It does not stop Mrs. Santos from giving him a knowing look.

"Is that right?" She smiles pleasantly. "You two enjoy yourselves, then. I'll make sure to whip up something nice for your last night here."

Your face lights up in delight.

"That's—ahem." Coughing into your fist, you pretend to be unaffected by the allure of the older woman's words. You haven't known her long enough to find out she's already prepped the ingredients the night before. "You don't have to do that, Mrs. Santos. Last night's dinner alone was more than enough."

"Don't be silly," she says, waving your concern off. "I'd do the same for Alkaid—oh! That's right. Do you have any requests, Alkaid?"

He does not—but you do.

So, Alkaid smiles and pretends his motivations for putting the spotlight on you aren't selfish in nature. That he does not to do this to be able to see that same blissful expression on your face again, this time with the knowledge that he played a part in your happiness.

"I enjoy anything you cook, Mrs. Santos," he says smoothly, before nodding his head at you. "Since it's her first time here, I think it's only fair that she gets to pick."

The older woman laughs, not unkindly. You shove another croissant into your mouth. A silent understanding seems to form between the two women at the table, one that, Alkaid feels, has everything to do with him.

But they do not enlighten him on what that understanding is.

Instead, the conversation continues where it left off, so seamlessly that he can trick himself into thinking the interruption never happened.

You talk about food, then flowers, then your time at St. Shelter Academia. Mrs. Santos tells you stories about him, of when he was younger and would come with his family—most of them being decidedly embarrassing, particularly since you're the one listening to them. And you drink them up with the same eagerness that seems to consume Alkaid when it concerns you.

The matching lockscreens come up once, as well.

He finds himself being stared at—almost disapprovingly—by the older woman. It reminds him of your odd expression, on that day. But before he can ponder what it is she knows that he doesn't, you rescue him with an apologetic smile—one that'd have him forgiving you immediately, if there was anything to forgive.

(There isn't.)

And even when he backs away from the conversation with warm cheeks and the word beautiful rattling around in his brain—even though it is entirely your fault, there is nothing to forgive.

Even though he wonders, again, when you glance at him after your devastating blow—that is his own fault.

Because last night, he'd sworn he wouldn't do this again. Last night, you seemed like you didn't even want to see his face. Last night, it seemed so easy to think he wouldn't fall back into old habits again.

Is it about him? Is it about Beanie instead?

Alkaid swipes an assortment of fruits from the center of the table. Pretends those questions won't be eating into the time he could be using to sleep. He is nothing less than his normal, polite self, even as the hurricane called you tears up his sanity.

When you look at him and smile contentedly, he adds another cause to the list.

THE PAYMENT ALKAID REQUESTS OF you, when paid in full, takes the form of a flower tucked behind his ear.

It is your idea, something spur-of-the-moment that pops into your head when you rest your hand on the bike's rear seat. You close the distance between them, and only when he replays the memory at night can he pinpoint the exact moment his fate is sealed.

There, as he's laying in bed—kept up by a situation that is in every way the opposite of last night—the sight of your eyes, glimmering with mischief, engraved into his memory forever.

In the present, however, as your hand reaches out for him, Alkaid closes his eyes.

On the front seat rests one of his hands; the other fiddles with the back of his shirt. They curl loosely into a fist as your cold fingers carefully brush his hair out of the way. His heart, as it beats only for you, tries to jump out of his chest. The trail you leave behind on his skin feels unbearably warm.

You laugh softly, to a joke only you know of.

It loops around in his mind like his new old favorite song, silencing any thoughts about how close you are. Yesterday's worries seem to flee his mind, your easy-going behavior a balm for his soul.

"Alright," you say, the sound of your voice returning to an appropriate distance. He opens his eyes to find you admiring his appearance. "I've paid your price."

The smile on your face would've stolen his breath away—if only he hadn't already forgotten how to breathe.

IN THE HOURS THAT FOLLOW, Alkaid falls in love with you, over and over again.

And the truth is, nothing in this world is easier—that if soulmates exist, then his heart knows, whether he is yours or not, that you are his. Even the heartache that visits him every time he leaves the present to court the future cannot deter him.

The most logical part of him points out that few women would act as you did this morning. The rest of him chides it for being so presumptuous, wielding last night like a dagger—so resolute in their conviction to keep him in his place.

Their job is made harder by the fact that you've once more taken to acting as you normally do.

Right now, the two of you are at a souvenir shop in hopes finding a present for Mrs. Santos. The idea came to you when they were at a convenience store earlier. You wanted to find a way to thank her for the lovely experience—and the love and care she put into every interaction with you.

"Do you think she'd like something like this?" you ask, holding up a mug with a stylized design of a grumpy cat.

Though she is a lover of cats, Mrs. Santos is, rather unfortunately, allergic to cats. For that reason, ever since he was old enough to go by himself, he's always been a solo traveler. Sparkles is there with him only in spirit—and in the many photos he has of his beloved ragdoll on his phone.

Alkaid thinks the mug is a lovely idea. Both practical and aesthetic. It is only the words written above the cat that give him a pause, in fun, bubbly letters that hardly suit the design's star.

Rather than the always cheerful Mrs. Santos, he thinks it would suit you much better.

Seemingly reading his mind, you sigh despondently. "I'll keep looking. Come on."

This is only the second shop they've visited. This is only fifth thing you've discarded from your list. Alkaid stares at the long fingers wrapped tightly around his wrist and obeys.

The urge to grasp onto them doesn't entirely die when next you release his hand.

At that time, his watch reads 11:15. Thirty minutes later, you remain unsatisfied with the selections offered by this particular store. You drag him along to the next store, brows knitted in concentration as you mull over your possible choices. He mulls them over too, in hopes of speeding the process along.

Because there are still a few more places he thinks you'd like. But the sun steadily creeps up higher in the sky, constantly reminding him constantly of their limited time together.

Tomorrow, you'll return to Harp Island—and there's no word on when you'll come back here.

"I'll go take a look too," Alkaid says, after you make a beeline for the first thing that catches your eye.

"Would you?" As you put away a hairpin you can't seem to agree with, a relieved smile crosses your lips. "Thanks, Alkaid."

He returns your smile with one of his own—something he hopes will assure you that the end is in sight. Then, he leaves first, disappearing among the shelves with only a fleeting glance at your now distant figure.

ALKAID IS NOT A STRANGER when it comes to having eyes on him. Whether it's strangers on the street or the ghosts of his childhood, he's grown adept at hiding both his discomfort and his knowledge of them.

Still, when the topic of their discussion partially revolves around you, he feels compelled to step in and clear the misunderstanding.

"She's just a friend, I'm afraid," he says, smiling apologetically. "It's payment for a tour I'm giving her."

The culprits seems to be a pair of siblings, close in age. Over the course of their fervent but light-hearted discussion on whether men look good with flowers in their hair or not, he learned their names are May and Max—that May is the older one, and that Max is not infrequently teased for every possible reason under the sun.

They both startle easily at his interjection and glance at each other. A flush creeps up the girl's cheeks, half of which she manages to hide by giving herself a sidepart. Max only coughs politely.

The satisfied gleam in his eyes, despite his embarrassment, speaks volumes.

"Oh," she utters, clearing his throat. Max tugs at her sleeve, and May lets him drag her away—though not before she decides to offer him one last bit of advice. "I'd ask for more than one flower, then."

Alkaid merely smiles politely.

To charge anything beyond that would imply that spending time with you is not its own reward. To charge anything at all would, ordinarily—but he's found, more often that not, people tend to feel more comfortable when there's some form of reciprocity, when it comes to jokes.

If he insisted on going without pay, there was a distinct possibility of the mood souring faster than he can recite your birthday.

"What was that about?" a familiar voice rings in his ear, your warm breath fanning against his ear. He tamps down the urge to flinch, though he can do nothing for his warm cheeks. "I heard something about flowers?"

Carefully, so as to ensure you don't think he's running away from you, he takes a step back—puts his hands in his pocket. And when he looks back at you, you're doing a terrible job at hiding your smile.

The upturned corners peek out from behind your two fingers—but even if they didn't, he thinks your eyes would betray you.

"She seemed to think I should've asked for a higher price," he confesses truthfully.

There are three ways this can go. You can ignore his words entirely to show him the latest item you've pinned your hopes on. You can argue against it, with whatever argument you have on hand, and Alkaid will easily return the flower. And the third one, both the one most likely and the one he wishes for, is—

"She's not wrong." You nod, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear. A plushie's leg peeks out from behind you as you walk up to him. "A flower isn't enough."

"What would you give me then?" he inquires calmly, as if his rapid heartbeat doesn't drown out all but the sound of your voice.

At first, it seems as though you have the answer already. Confidence drips from your tone for the first half of your sentence, but a distressed expression soon breaks out on your face. You purse your lips and cup your chin thoughtfully.

"Well, for something obtainable..." You mutter, sounding exasperated. He expects some of your next words to be a quip about how difficult it is to put a number on him. "Maybe a 100...maybe 200...300...? Your birthday is...so that many...?"

Alkaid hums, taking note of your wording. "And if it isn't obtainable?"

"It'd be hard to wrap," you caution him, having forgotten whatever plans you had for the plushie. As it swings behind you, he realizes it's a teddy bear. "But if I could, I think I'd give you the world."

The last of your words comes out softly, like a confession meant only for him. Your gaze softens, and though you seem like you're somewhere else, he can't help but think you're still thinking about him. And for the first time in a while, the contrarian in him remains quiet.

When Alkaid smiles softly, his heart feels lighter than it has in ages.

The girl he loves wants to give him the world—and though you keep your secrets close to your chest, you are not a liar. He will not make you out to be a liar, by wondering if you really mean it at all.

And it is easy enough. All it requires is framing last night's interactions with you a bit differently—that you were not afraid of him but of what he'd figure out. It's a thought he'd entertained on and off, but never with as much conviction.

In a way, the two of you are nothing less than birds of a feather.

"Just spending time with you is enough," Alkaid assures.

With a dramatic sigh, you hold the teddy bear against your chest and huff. His smile takes on a helpless tinge as he watches you shake your head. When you take note of it, your eyes narrow into what would be a ferocious glare if not for the faint pout on your lips.

"And we return to the crux of the problem again," you complain, shoving the teddy bear at him. "We'll come back to this. What do you think of this bear for Mrs. Santos? Doesn't it look like her?"

He takes a step closer. "Hmm, I think she'll appreciate it. Do you like it?"

Your nose scrunches up at his words. A sigh escapes your lips as you look longingly at the teddy bear, then at him. This time, you don't shake your head quite as vigorously as before.

"Alright, let's keep looking," you say, your hand wrapping around his wrist again. "You come with me this time, alright?"

The answer to that comes easily, even before you confide in him how boring it was without him. Alkaid chuckles warmly and quietly takes your hand, the way he'd wanted to earlier, with an explanation on the tip of his tongue—

"It's more comfortable this way."

Once the flash of surprise fades from your eyes, you grin at him. "You read my mind."

It takes some time before either of you are willing to let go.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for moving out and leaving my roommate?

🦆 <- so I can find later

I (20X) am in uni currently in my sophomore year. I'm autistic and have social anxiety so I have terrible luck making friends and usually end up getting "adopted" by an extrovert. At my uni, it's typical to live in a double room - they do not have separate bedrooms/baths, it's essentially just a bedroom with two beds and two desks in them. My first year of uni I didn't end up with a roommate (which is apparently relatively common for first-years for various reasons) but the extrovert friend I made, let's call them P, did have a roommate that kinda sucked (blasting music into the early morning, bringing friends over without warning, etc).

P and I were friends during our freshman years in that we went out to dinners together and sometimes events. Both of us share the same sort of schedule (although they're in a STEM track and I'm an art history major) and ideals (neither of us are into drinking/drugs/partying). So, naturally, P suggested that we move in as roommates together in sophomore year.

Here's the problem. P is kind of abrasive and honestly downright rude at some points. We're friends, we still hang out and go to dinners/events together and joke around, but a lot of times their "joking around" is just hurtful. For example, they find it funny to gaslight me, or maybe they don't even realize they do it - I say things like "I heard that the dining hall is getting a dessert section" and P will say "no they aren't, you're wrong" and then a week later when the dessert section gets installed, I'll say "ah so they were getting one! I knew it" and they'll say "you literally never said that, I did." They also (physically) shove me around, pour salt in my food while I'm in the restroom, make fun of me for not doing my own laundry (I'm physically disabled, literally can't), say I'm taking "dumb classes" compared to their STEM major, etc. Ive talked to them about their behavior before, but they just said "I was never making fun of you".

The thing is, I hate rooming with P. They're fun to hang out with, and they're funny, but when I hang out with them for too long their jokes just turn into picking on me and I just plain don't find it funny. They're not a bad roommate; they respect my space, don't mess with my stuff (usually), but I just don't feel comfortable living with them.

I tried to "get out" last semester, but the only way I'd be able to move out is if I activated my disability accomodations and asked for a medical single, which would take months to process. It's January now, so if I start the process now, it could be ready by next semester. However, P doesn't want me to leave and is super clingy, texting me when I leave to visit home that they miss me. With their previous experience with a bad roommate, I'm not inclined to give them back up to the roommate lottery again, and they're one of the only friends I have at uni, but at the same time, I don't see how we can work this out because I've already talked to them about it and set boundaries and been ignored.

TL;DR My roommate is a good roommate but bad friend, and I want to move out but I'm worried that they'll get stuck with a bad roommate in my stead. WIBTA for leaving or should I stay and deal with it?

What are these acronyms?

[bellaxgiornata]

Falling For the Devil [Part fifty-six: "The Nightmare"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: You wake screaming from a terrible nightmare in the middle of the night.

Or

You weren't expecting to see Daredevil.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence

Word Count: 3.4k

a/n: This installment is a part of the Big Angst arc. Forewarning, there is no comfort in the next handful of installments, not until you reach "The Aftermath" (Part 58) will there be comfort. The beginning nightmare is quite dark and features some violence as well. You can find the entire list of installments for this series here. And if you're enjoying it let me know!

“Take me, not her,” Daredevil begged. His usual gravelly and dangerous voice was currently strained and full of panic. “It’s me you want. Leave her out of this. Let her go.”

The cold barrel of the gun pressed further into your temple and you flinched. Your heart was hammering frantically in your chest where you sat tied to the chair. You were positive the sound was only further sending Matt into a panicked, despairing frenzy.

“Who says we can’t have both? She clearly knows too much now,” Scar Face rumbled out behind you. 

"Please," Matt pleaded weakly.

“You've got nothing to bargain with, asshole. You aren't going to do anything while we have your bitch tied up," Not Scar Face pointed out. "So why don’t you shut up and take off that ridiculous helmet and show your face?”

“Matt, no,” you whimpered.

“I said to stop talking!” Scar Face snapped.

The barrel of the gun briefly left its place at your temple just long enough for the back of it to come cracking down hard against your skull. White shot across your eyes and you cried out in pain. A few feet before you, Matt dropped to his hands and knees with an agonized shout. A second later you heard something loud clattering along the cement floor of the warehouse. When your vision no longer blurred you saw he’d taken off the mask.

Scar Face let out a loud laugh behind you as you took in Matt’s unfocused eyes. They were on your chest, fear and pain written on his face. The sight alone almost killed you.

“The asshole is blind !” Not Scar Face laughed out from nearby. 

"Backman will get a kick out of that,” Scar Face added, amused, “when we bring him your head.”

“I’d say let’s have him watch us kill his girl but–” Not Scar Face paused to laugh, “–he wouldn’t be able to see anything!”

Both men laughed loudly just behind you, but your eyes were on Matt. He was still on his hands and knees a few feet before you, a look of sheer desperation on his face. Your heart felt like it was being crushed in your chest at the sight before you. They were going to kill you both and Matt would spend his last moments blaming himself.

“Enough of this shit,” Scar Face said, laughter subsiding. “Let’s be done with it already.”

The gun removed itself from your temple, aiming directly at Matt. Tears were falling down your cheeks, your body trembling from where you sat tied to the chair. 

“I’m so sorry,” Matt whispered, his unfixed gaze still only on you. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I lo–”

The gun went off beside you, so loud your ears were ringing. It took your brain a second to realize Matt had been shot. And as his body fell forward onto the floor, his sentence forever hanging unfinished in the air, a scream tore its way out of your chest. You were pulling at the restraints holding you to the chair, tears streaming down your face rapidly. Your eyes were fixed to Matt’s limp body, your hands fighting to reach out and hold him.

"Shut her up, would you?" Scar Face said.

A loud noise burst forth from the gun shortly after it appeared in your line of sight and your body jolted.

Sitting bolt upright on your bed, your breathing coming in fast and hard, you found you were actually screaming. When you realized there were hands on your shoulders you began to thrash violently against the hold that was on you, tears streaming down your face for real.

"It's me, it's me!" a familiar panicked voice was calling out over your shouts. 

You paused as the voice registered in your mind, your body no longer fighting as the scream died in your throat. Still breathing hard, you turned to the side of your bed and through the dark you saw the telltale shape of horns. Your hand darted out to the lamp on your nightstand. Your fingers fumbled as your hand shook, but the moment you pulled the switch, light washed over Daredevil’s familiar form crouched beside your bed.

One of Matt's hands came up, pulling the helmet off of his head instantly and revealing his worried face. Your eyes raked over every inch of him, trying to force out that image of him with a bullet in his head. Your lips trembled, tears falling down your cheeks still at the sight of him alive before you. 

Without thinking, you flung yourself forward at Matt where he was crouched beside you. Your arms wrapped around his neck, your face burying itself in his armor just beside his throat. Faintly you registered the way he carefully wrapped an arm around your shoulders, his other gloved hand very gently smoothing your hair down. You sobbed into his armor, arms tightening around him even further. 

"Hey, you're okay," he whispered. "You were dreaming. You're okay."

"I was back there," you murmured into the strange material of his suit. "In that warehouse. They shot both of us," you said, voice breaking.

His hand continued to soothe its way down your hair over and over, his other arm holding you to him more firmly. "You're okay," he repeated. "I've got you, you're okay. You’re safe."

Eyes closing, you relaxed into his comforting embrace and his soothing voice. He was alive. It had been a bad dream, nothing more. 

But the longer you held him and he held you, the more embarrassed you were quickly becoming. He wasn't your Matt anymore and you shouldn't be holding him like this. As much as you wanted his comfort, as much as you wanted to pull him onto your bed and have him wrap himself around you, that wasn't going to happen. 

Your arms abruptly released Matt, pushing yourself away from him so fast that Matt's hands were briefly left hovering in the air where he had moments before been holding you. You sniffled loudly, blinking back the tears. Matt's hands slowly lowered to the bed as he sunk down to sit on the floor beside your mattress.

"I'm sorry," you mumbled. "I–I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he replied, an unreadable expression on his face. "Are you…alright?"

You ran a hand down your face, trying to force that nightmare from your mind. It hadn't been real, you reminded yourself. That wasn't what happened and those men were in no position to hurt you again. But still, you felt terrified.

"I'm fine," you told him. 

Matt's mouth twitched downwards at the corner. "No you're not," he replied.

A deep sigh fell from him as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on your bed as he buried his face in his gloved hands. You bit your lip nervously, watching him quietly before you. 

"This is all my fault," he said, his voice a bit muffled by his gloves still covering his face. 

"No it's not," you immediately whispered. 

Matt's face slowly rose out of his hands, brows creased together onto his forehead as his gaze landed along your chest. He winced as his head canted to the side. 

"How is it not my fault? They were after me ," he stated.

"But I was the one looking into Wayland. And I wasn't taking it seriously enough," you admitted, shoulders slumping. "I didn't think I had poked around enough to draw that much attention to myself. And I had no idea they'd have made the connection between you and I." You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, your right hand dropping to the bed and absently fiddling with the fabric of your comforter. "It was my fault," you admitted, unable to look at him. "I was being reckless, focused on following the story. I didn't listen to you and I should have."

"But I should have stopped you," Matt ground out. "I shouldn't have let you continue looking into it."

"And done what, Matt?" you asked, your eyes darting up from the bed to his pained face. "Tie me to my bed? Get me fired? There wasn't anything more you could have done," you told him firmly. "You warned me repeatedly. You told me to stop–practically begged me to. I didn't listen. This was on me, I put both of us in danger."

"Because of what I do," he countered. 

"And what I do," you pointed out, gesturing to yourself. "Investigative journalist, remember? You were right, you're not the only one chasing bad guys."

His focus dropped down to your bed, one of his gloved hands beginning to comb repeatedly through his dark hair, mussing it further. You could see the muscles twitching in his cheeks like usual when he was frustrated. 

"I'm sorry," you whispered. 

“Stop,” he immediately said, shaking his head. “You did nothing wrong. You did everything I asked you to, everything you could have in that situation.” He sighed heavily, his focus still not on you. “I should have been there for you afterwards,” he whispered, something like shame creeping into his tone. “What I did after…” his voice trailed off, his eyes pinching with emotion.

You shifted on the mattress, scooting closer towards where he sat on the floor. Tentatively your right hand slid along the bed and very lightly the tips of your fingers brushed his gloved hand. Matt’s head rose from the floor, his sightless gaze entirely focused on the part of you touching him.

“What we did,” you corrected him softly, “was consensual. You didn’t hurt me, Matt. And it was clearly what you needed in the moment.”

“It was wrong,” he shot back.

“You didn’t hurt me, Matt,” you repeated firmly. 

“Okay,” Matt began, nodding quickly. “Okay, let’s put aside the bruises and the–the bite marks. All of it,” he said, grimacing as he did. “You had been terrified. Kidnapped. You’d had a gun to your head just hours before, and then I yell at you and–and treat you like that? So rough and angry myself?”

“It was what you needed,” you repeated. “And I was willing to give you the comfort you needed. I’ll admit, rough sex was not exactly the first thing on my mind after that, I’d have much preferred something like this,” you told him, your hand not resting beside his gesturing between the pair of you. “Even though right now it still feels like you’re miles away from me despite you sitting right here. But I wanted to give you what you needed to realize I was safe and I just–just needed you.” Tears were stinging in your eyes at the admission, Matt’s focus finally shifting up towards you. “After all of that,” you told him, your voice cracking, “I just needed you, Matt. That was all I needed.”

You could see the emotion screwing up his features, his eyes pinching tight as his lips began to tremble. A few tears slipped down your cheeks as you tried to hold back a sob.

“But you just left me, Matty,” you whispered, noticing the glisten of tears forming in his own eyes. His hand beside yours balled the sheets in a tight fist as you continued. “It wasn’t the sex that hurt me, Matt. It was the abandoning me when I needed you most afterwards that did.”

Matt rose to his feet and quickly sat down on the bed beside you, his arms wrapping around your waist and drawing you into him. Taken by surprise, it took you a moment to wrap your own arms around his waist, your forehead resting against his chest as tears continued to make their way down your cheeks. 

“I’m sorry,” he croaked out. “I’m so sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry for everything.” 

His face was buried in your hair, his gloved hands gripping you tight to his chest. You could feel the wet drops of Matt’s tears falling onto the top of your head as you clung to him. Something that felt like hope sparked inside of your chest for the first time in over a month. This was what you’d been needing from Matt. This was the comfort and the beginning of an apology you had been craving. 

“I didn’t mean to,” he whispered into your hair. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to do any of that to you. I never want to hurt you.” A choked sob left him, his arms tightening around you further. “I’ve been so ashamed,” he continued, his voice shaking. “About what I did to you afterwards, letting any part of that side of me around you. About leaving you like that. I didn’t–didn’t know how to face you afterwards. I just wanted to keep you safe from me.”

“Matt,” you whispered back, cheek pressed against the armor along his chest, “I love all of you,” you admitted. “ All of you. Even the side that does this.” Your right hand gently patted his back, emphasizing exactly what you meant; his gloved hands held you somehow even more firmly in response. “And I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you,” you added. “I’m sorry I didn’t take the danger of what I was doing more seriously.”

He was shaking his head along the top of yours. “You couldn’t have known,” he replied. “You couldn’t have known just how dangerous it was. You didn’t hear the things I did from Backman’s men all those nights I was out and I–I didn’t tell you everything to try to keep you safe from it all.”

For a long while you both held each other close, crying together in silence as your hands clutched tight to each other. You’d relaxed in his arms, your eyes closed as you breathed in the scent of him. Your heart felt full for the first time in awhile.

Gradually you pulled back from his chest, Matt reluctantly easing his hold on you and drawing his face out from where he’d been crying into your hair. You swallowed hard, face turning up to look at him in your dimly lit bedroom. Your heart sped up in your chest as you took in the sight of him before you, his face closer to yours than it had been in weeks. 

You’d missed him. You’d missed the way his eyes would look upon you with so much warmth and affection. Missed the way it felt to have his arms around you, to feel the heat of his body on yours. You just missed the way he loved you fully.

The only thing you wanted in this exact moment was to fix things between the two of you. To try to repair the damage of these past six weeks. And now that you’d begun to talk it out, both of you having begun to apologize, why couldn’t you both try to make things work? Of course things wouldn’t just pick up where they’d left off, and of course you both needed a bigger, more in depth conversation still–but why couldn’t things between you both be salvaged? Why couldn’t you be together and try to work through everything?

Your heart skipped in your chest at the thought of him taking off that suit and finally , after weeks of crying yourself to sleep alone, falling asleep wrapped in his embrace. Of resting your head along his bare chest and listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. Of him tenderly kissing you goodnight. Of waking up tomorrow morning and him being there beside you with a warm smile. 

Hesitantly your right arm unwrapped itself from around Matt’s waist. Your hand tentatively made its way up towards his cheek until you were gently cupping it in the palm of your hand. Before you, Matt’s brows furrowed together in silence. Feeling like you couldn’t breathe, you carefully leaned into Matt, your chin rising to draw your lips towards his.

But the moment your lips briefly brushed his, his head sharply turned to the side, your lips landing awkwardly along the stubble of his cheek. That hope that had been growing in your chest over the past few minutes instantly fizzled out at his blatant rejection. The burn of tears were once again at your eyes, both of your hands quickly falling into your lap as you pulled away. 

Matt was shaking his head, drawing his own arms from you before rising to his feet beside your bed. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

“We can’t,” he told you firmly. “That’s–that’s not what this was. I’m–I’m sorry if I made you think that.”

You bit your lip, nodding solemnly in response. It felt like there was a gaping hole in your chest now larger than before he’d shown up tonight. 

“That’s not why I was here,” he told you, voice pained. “I still owe you more of an apology than what that was, but that’s not why I was here.”

Fighting back sobs that were quickly threatening to wrack your body, you drew your knees up to your chest. “Then why are you here?” you asked, hurt clear in your voice.

Matt hesitated a moment, shifting back and forth on his feet before he answered. “Because I…I listen to make sure you’re safe in your apartment when I head home at night,” he confessed. “Just to your heart, nothing more. But it was erratic and I was terrified something had happened. So I–I came up to your fire escape to check. Then I heard you screaming and thrashing in your sleep. Your window wasn’t locked so I came in.” His hands nervously fidgeted in front of himself, his head shaking. “But I can’t do that. I’m not good for you. You’re not safe with me.”

Unable to hold back the tears any further, your face dropped down to your knees and you cried, shoulders shaking with the movement. You’d thought whatever had torn you two apart might have been something that could be fixed after that conversation, that Matt could see reason and you could work towards getting back to where you’d both been eventually, but apparently he still wanted to think that he was a threat to you. What more could you do about that?

Matt tried to place a comforting hand on your shoulder but you flinched away on the bed, burying your face further into your knees as your arms squeezed your legs tighter.

“Don’t,” you croaked out. “I don’t want your comfort, Matt. Not now, not like this. It hurts too much.”

“What–what can I do?” he breathed out, sounding himself like he was close to tears.

“Just go away,” you begged, curling further in on yourself. “Go away, Matt. Apparently there’s nothing for you here. Just go. I can't keep doing this.”

He whispered your name, his voice breaking as he did. The sound only caused the tears to fall harder from your eyes. 

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

You heard his footsteps leaving your bedroom, making their way to your living room. There was the familiar sound of your window sliding up before you heard him gently closing it after himself. 

Turning, you flung yourself back onto your bed, grabbing the pillow he always had slept on when he had stayed over. You clung to it pathetically, burying your face in the fabric. It only just barely smelled like him and that had you crying harder. 

You didn't understand why he was doing this. Why he seemed to care so much but yet could continue hurting both of you so badly. How he could possibly think that he was a threat to you. The thought of Matt ever being a danger to you was absurd–especially knowing he was still checking on you, making sure you were safe after the breakup. Checking on you even when you had a nightmare. 

You just didn't understand what was going through his mind and why he continued to push you away. But the whiplash of his hot and cold feelings were killing you. You couldn't take it anymore.

As you clung to your pillow, sobbing softly, your heart tightened in your chest at the conclusion you'd come to. Either you had Matt completely or you didn't have him at all. You couldn’t torture yourself any further; you either needed him or needed to move on from him. You figured you'd reach out to him tomorrow, maybe sit down to talk, because you couldn't have him popping in through your fire escape anymore if he wasn't going to really be in your life. 

But that didn’t lessen the pain in your chest knowing which option Matt was likely to choose.

[honey-beann]

Ruiner, Ruination (RK900 X Reader)

Chapter 8: An Uneasy Aftermath - Constellations and Well-Paired Colors

Series Masterlist

Chapter Synopsis:

Part 1 of a multiple part special in which Reader and Nines struggle to manage their concern for one another now that their respective injuries have forced them both to realize how destructible the other truly is.

This chapter includes a realization, a promise, a shower, some sharing, a minor wardrobe malfunction, and a great deal of longing and overthinking from both our beloved reader and everyone's favorite android.

AKA - Reader and Nines each contemplate how the other makes them feel, and struggle to reach the necessary conclusions afterward.

Word Count: 5,863

"Detective, I can assure you that while I appreciate your concern, there is really no reason for you to supervise me. My systems are entirely operational, including those involving the temporary parts installed earlier today."

You rolled your eyes at your partner while he attempted to persuade you to go home for the fifth time in three minutes as you stood in his kitchen, inspecting the pristine surface of the counter there with what was almost awe.

Of course, you hadn't expected your android partner's apartment to be dirty by any means, there was almost no reason for it to be given the fact that he didn't eat, drink, or sleep, but even so, this was just absurd.

There wasn't even a speck of dust anywhere, the cabinets were stocked with easy to grab nutritional food sources (likely so he could ensure you always had breakfast should you forget to eat it in the mornings before work), and the fridge was sparkling clean despite the thirium drinks found within, which you were almost certain Nines must have been gifted. He didn't strike you as a man who chose to consume literally anything, android beverages or media alike, for pleasure.

Still, even despite your fairly apparent surprise, you willed yourself to turn around and cross your arms at your partner before replying to his previous persuasions.

"Nines, you put me down as your emergency contact, let them call me, watched as I embarrassed myself after thinking that something terrible had happened to you, and then you revealed that you had weaseled your way into my personal health files weeks ago like it was a totally normal thing to do. No matter what you say to me, I'm not going anywhere, because I'll be damned if you don't learn some kind of lesson by being forced to have me babysit you for the night."

Nines gave a hum in response, a slight smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth as he shrugged and turned to make his way toward the living room,

"Whatever you say, Detective, but I don't think I loathe your presence quite enough to view it as punishment. You are getting there, though."

You scoffed at that and followed him into the next room, fighting the urge to gape at the cleanliness of this one as well as you watched your partner move to take a seat in an armchair nearby, one long leg crossing over the other as a hand moved to rest upon his knee in a way that had you staring at his fingers for what you imagined was far too long before you finally caught yourself and looked away, cheeks dusted a light pink as you cleared your throat.

"Well even if I wanted to, we both know I can’t just leave. You heard the technician, Nines, someone needs to stay with you for at least the next six hours to observe you and make sure there are no negative reactions to the temporary parts she had to install while you wait for the new ones to be manufactured and shipped out. That temporary circulatory pump is a huge concern, and you need to be careful not to overwhelm it so you don't risk damaging your thirium pump. She already told you how serious it could be if you aren't careful, especially in these first few hours as your systems get used to the less functional temporary parts." 

Nines all but rolled his eyes at your words as he leaned further back against the chair, watching you intently as he did so,

"The chances of me becoming overwhelmed, be it physically or emotionally, are incredibly slim, Detective. I was not built to experience such things."

"You also weren't built with temporary parts meant for an entirely different and non-military model of android, Nines."

You countered easily, choosing that moment to start looking around the living room rather than just stand in its doorway.

Carefully, as if afraid you might create a mess in the area simply by virtue of being there, you made your way over to a wall fitted with a large fireplace, and opened your mouth to comment on how dramatic it looked all decked out in black wrought iron, when you suddenly caught sight of the mirror that rested on the mantle and halted before you could say a single word.

In all your eagerness to bring Nines home and get him to let up on his insistence that your presence was unwarranted, you had completely forgotten about all the blue blood that decorated you and your clothing.

It stained your white button up, made dark marks on your brown pants, and was sprayed in disorganized spatters across your neck, cheeks, forehead, and hair.

But the most notable stain of all was the nearly perfect handprint, devoid of any fingerprints, that was wrapped around your right wrist.

You stared at that handprint, hands shaking slightly at your sides as you swallowed thickly, trying to keep the sound of a bullet hitting strong plastic out of your mind as you fought off the tears that sprang to your eyes at the memory.

Just this morning you had celebrated the fresh absence of your sling,

And only three hours afterward you had been hovering above your partner’s body, struggling to stop the blue blood from seeping out of the open bullet wound just below where his ribs would have been located if he’d had any.

And now you were standing in that same partner's apartment at 4:00pm, staring at the way that his blood covered your clothing and bare skin.

Everything had happened so fast, and you felt your mind reel as you tried your best to keep up with the events that had occurred throughout the day thus far.

Your vision grew cloudy as you stood there, swaying slightly in front of the fireplace, staring deep into your own reflection unblinkingly.

That is, until you felt a familiar hand graze the sleeve along your right wrist, instantly bringing you back to Earth.

There, standing at your side, was Nines, perfectly healthy and glancing down at you with what almost appeared to be worry.

"There is a shower in the bathroom down the hall, the second door on your right. You're welcome to use it."

You took a brief moment to consider how the hell your partner had figured out your inner thoughts so easily before brushing off the confusion and turning to face him better, offering him a small and slightly fragile smile,

"That would be great, but I don't really know how much good it would do me. When I checked earlier the only spare clothing in my trunk was a pair of jeans, which means I won't have a shirt to replace this one..."

You trailed off as you looked down towards that handprint once more, though you snapped back to attention immediately when Nines spoke up,

"If it is any consolation, Detective, I do not believe the blue blood present on your shirt will be visible for much longer."

You sighed in response, trying not to look too uncomfortable at his attempt to provide some semblance of comfort as you spoke,

"I know but... there's just something about it being there, even if I can't see it, that just doesn't sit right with me."

Nines was silent for a moment before he gave a sudden and rather sharp nod at your words.

"I will see what I can do. In the meantime, though, I really must insist that you take a shower. The longer thirium remains on the skin, the harder it becomes to scrub off."

You shuddered slightly at the thought of not being able to get your partner's blood off of you, and gave an almost immediate nod of agreement,

"Okay, yeah, then I should definitely shower, but you've gotta promise me you won't just leave while I'm in there."

Nines' lips curled upward ever so slightly at your words, amused by your persistent concern for his well-being but plenty willing to give in to your foolish requests if it meant you becoming more relaxed.

He hummed,

"I promise, Detective. Is that all?"

You considered his question for a few seconds before giving a slow and thoughtful nod in response, 

"Yeah, I think so. Anything I should know about the bathroom?"

Nines replied immediately, without requiring even a single moment of contemplation,

"The lock is on the door handle, the fan is to the left of the light switch, and you can lower the blinds to the window by pressing the button beside them, though I'm sure you aren't nearly tall enough for anyone to see anything indecent from the parking lot. In addition to this, you can find shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and most other common hygiene products beneath the sink. Feel free to utilize anything you find there. When you exit the shower, you should find two towels hung up to your right. Both are clean, though I do utilize the black one for myself when necessary, so be aware of that if the idea of using a towel I have used in the past causes you any discomfort."

Surprised by the sudden influx information, you spent a moment blinking rapidly before remembering that you were probably supposed to give some form of response to that,

"Oh okay, uh, thanks for letting me know. I'll see you after?"

Nines gave a hum of what you assumed was agreement before he began to walk toward the hallway he had mentioned you could find the bathroom in previously.

He pushed open the door to said bathroom and flicked on the light in two extremely fluid motions before continuing down the hall until he reached a closed door at the very end.

Said door opened to reveal a quick glance at a bed donning a soft looking black comforter and many plush looking gray silk covered pillows before Nines stepped in, his large form obscuring your view of the space as he made his way over to what you assumed was his closet towards a wall that you could not see from the angle you were standing at.

You watched for a few more moments after Nines walked out of view before you snapped yourself out of it and stepped onto the cool white tile of the bathroom, shutting the door quietly behind you as you took in the space.

Shining white tiles with dark green accents covered the floor, and a similarly green backsplash was present in the area between the gold faucet sink and the gold trimmed mirror, both of which shone brilliantly as they caught the light, clearly very rarely used, and kept pristine despite that.

God, you were beginning to wonder if Nines might be even more of an eerily neat guy than you'd previously thought.

Deeming that consideration far too unimportant to dwell on further, you squatted down to better reach the cabinet beneath the sink, opening it to find a rather large number of toiletries stashed beneath.

Multiple rolls of toilet paper stacked neatly, a few bottles of shaving cream, a metal razor handle with disposable single blades, two bamboo hair brushes, a few packaged toothbrushes with different bottles of toothpaste standing beside them, some dental floss, a large bottle of mouthwash, dry shampoo, deodorant, and a container with different sorted sections containing things like hair ties, tweezers, scrunchies, barrettes, bobby pins, a sewing kit, and even menstrual products within its designated cubbies.

But what caught your attention above all else was the actual showering supplies, which consisted of your favorite bar of body wash, a biodegradable mesh soap bar bag, your favorite shampoo and conditioner, the exact scent of shaving cream from the very same brand that you always used at home, and the body scrub that went along with it.

You stared at these products for a while, taken aback at the idea that Nines had somehow figured out what you liked and purchased these things for you to have at his home should you ever need them, only to brush the idea off immediately, your cheeks burning at the thought.

Of course he hadn't done all this just for you, at best he had figured out what you used and assumed it was typical for all other humans as well, leading him to buy these things in case someone ever needed to take a shower at his place (excluding himself, of course).

You stood, shower supplies in hand, and placed them on the counter of the sink for a few moments as you moved to turn the water on, taking note of the two towels, one black and one green, that hung from the rungs. 

'Both are clean, though I do utilize the black one for myself when necessary, so be aware of that if the idea of using a towel I have used before causes you any discomfort.'

Is what Nines had told you earlier on, and you swallowed thickly at the idea of sharing a towel with your partner before shaking your head in embarrassment, desperate to rid yourself of the thought as you picked up your supplies once more, placing them down carefully where they belonged in the shower before beginning the process of stripping down, trying not to pay attention to the blue blood all over your clothes and body as you did so.

And then, after giving the temperature of the water one final check, you stepped in, giving an unintentional and almost surprising sigh of relief as you did so.

The water was hot and soothing against your tense muscles, and for just a few moments, you allowed yourself time to bask in that comfort despite the stressors awaiting you back out in the real world.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to you, as you began the process of scrubbing semi-dried blue blood off of your skin, Nines was exiting the master suite, having laid a white button up across his neat black comforter to await your need for it.

The shirt would likely be rather large on you, given that it was one of his, but since you claimed to have a pair of your own jeans in the car, he was confident that your outfit wouldn't be so excessively unfitted that it would look unkempt.

He sighed and looked toward his wrist to check his watch, a rather human habit he’d developed despite his constant ability to know the time at a moment’s notice without the use of a device that attached to his body.

It was 4:35 now, and you had only been in the shower for around five minutes.

He glanced towards the bathroom door, the dull slap of water hitting tile the only sound emanating from your general vicinity.

He then looked at the door to his apartment, considering his options.

He had made a promise not to leave, and intended to keep it, but even so, he knew it made almost no sense to wait for you to exit the shower just for him to go down and get you your jeans anyway, and it wasn't as if you could do so yourself without new pants to wear down to the parking lot below.

Plus, he had only promised not to leave, and you had neglected to define exactly what "leaving" entailed.

Nines gave a subtle smirk at that, deciding that with that logic, you had no ground to stand on as long as he didn't actually leave the property, which he had absolutely no intention of doing in the process of collecting your spare pair of jeans.

So, with that, the android made a beeline for the front door, grabbing both his house keys as well as your car keys before he stepped out into the hallway and locked his front door behind him.

He took the steps slowly and at his leisure, though he notably went two at a time the entire way down until he reached the entrance to his apartment complex, which allowed him access to the gated parking area.

Once outside, it was easy to unlock your car and locate your pants within the trunk before shutting and locking everything all over again, your jeans slung over his forearm the same way that his shirt had been previously as he leaned against your car and looked up toward his apartment, where he was shocked to see that you hadn't bothered with closing the blinds at the window that looked into the shower.

Thankfully, he had been right about the pane being too high up on the wall to reveal anything one might consider intimate, but even still, Nines found himself staring as you ran adept fingers through your hair, rinsing the shampoo from it with your eyes peacefully shut against the consistent barrage of water raining down from the shower head above.

He continued to watch in an almost curious manner for a few more moments before realizing you were likely close to finishing, a fact which caused him to move a bit faster up the stairs during his return to the apartment, unlocking the door with ease before stepping back inside and closing the door swiftly and silently behind him.

Nines listened closely, hearing the familiar sound of water on tile as he made his way down the hall and over to his bed to set your jeans down alongside his button up.

There.

You would likely be done any minute now, and when you were, you could -

Nines’ inner thoughts were cut off by the sound of your phone ringing from somewhere across the apartment, and as he focused more on the noise emanating from the device in order to find it, he felt his brow wrinkle in curiosity.

Where could you have left that?

As Nines began what would be a very short and simple search for your cell phone, you were finishing up in the shower, fighting back a shiver as you lightly ran the soap bag containing your favorite bar soap across your torso, the unfamiliar texture tickling your skin in an unexpected manner.

The perception of yet another foreign sensation had you thinking back to all of the other unfamiliar feelings you’d experienced lately, though one in particular seemed stuck at the front of your mind.

Without even realizing what you were doing, you allowed your thoughts to wander aimlessly to the way that Nines' hands had gently cradled your hips as he’d lifted you up to the ladder earlier that morning, and how similar the memory of those hands felt to the water that was now caressing your skin, causing light blue liquid to spill down the drain as it washed away the blue blood that had stubbornly remained despite your persistent scrubbing.

Suddenly, broken out of your reverie by a slight temperature shift in the water, you startled, cheeks hot with embarrassment when you realized what you’d been thinking of. 

God, what was up with you lately?

You had been thinking about Nines almost nonstop, particularly when it came to your more physical interactions, like when he had helped you in and out of your dress for the gala a few weeks back, or when you had grazed his neck at the same aforementioned event and received a rather surprising reaction from him in response.

But even still, despite the memories of the other physical moments that had occurred between the two of you, the recollected feeling of his strong hands gripping powerfully onto your hips as he’d lifted you up with an almost practiced ease had your mind reeling and your heart racing for reasons you were fairly certain you didn't want to consider further.

And even though you tried to convince yourself that these reactions were completely normal, you still found that guilt was getting the better of you.

This was Nines you were thinking about, the cold, stubborn, and calculating military model android that you called your partner, who, despite others’ perceptions of him, felt a great deal of responsibility and worry for your well-being, as well as the well-beings of many more on top of that.

You thought back to when he had been shot earlier that morning, how he had comforted you even while he was so seriously injured and in pain, and the fact that he had done so as if it were the only possible option.

In Nine's mind, ensuring your safety, be it emotional or physical, was of the utmost importance, even when his personal safety was at risk, and as much as he would likely deny that verbally, his actions spoke volumes.

Nines had been willing to endure what most would consider to be an immense agony with a straight face just to make you feel less worried for him,

And here you were, in his bathroom, unable to stop yourself from thinking of the way his hands had felt as they’d wrapped easily around your hips, his torso just inches behind your back while he’d lifted you mere moments later, that usual air of confidence somehow both annoying and reassuring all at once as he’d done so.

Fuck, you really needed to get a grip.

Grabbing the shower valve dial in a manner that could only be described as aggressive, you held back a squeak as you forced the temperature down further, dousing yourself in much colder water in an effort to end your unwelcome thoughts.

Just moments later though, you failed to hold back a second squeak at the sound of knuckles rapping thrice against the wooden door, before Nines' voice followed shortly thereafter,

"Detective, please come out at your earliest convenience. There is something that requires your immediate attention."

At those words, you found yourself cursing under your breath before reaching to turn the water off entirely, grabbing for a towel and wrapping it around yourself all the while.

Hurriedly, and with an almost impressive level of speed considering how slippery your environment was, you stepped out of the shower and onto the mat below before allowing your feet to press against the cool tile as you made your way over to the door, previously worn clothing forgotten in a heap below the towel rack as you reached to unlock and open it, allowing a gust of steam to exit the bathroom and pour out into the hallway instead.

There, standing against the wall opposite the bathroom, stood Nines, and you watched as his eyes scanned the length of your body before halting suddenly, as if he realized too late how that may have looked.

You chose to ignore it.

"What's going on?"

You all but panted out, tightening your towel dress around your chest and ensuring it was secure even as you spoke, suddenly far more aware of your lack of clothing now that Nines was watching you.

"You received a phone call regarding a case nearby. Our presence has been requested at the scene due to the state of the victim and the proximity of the crime in comparison to our current location."

Your eyes widened as Nines spoke, and you struggled to form a response as you realized what he was saying,

"Wait, but we were supposed to be taken off of the page list for the night after what happened earlier today. Was this some kind of mistake?"

Nines shrugged his shoulders,

"I am unable to discern the level of intent that was had by dispatch when they requested our support at the scene. I simply stated we would arrive as soon as is feasible."

You gawked at your partner's words, crossing your arms over the exposed skin of your chest as you gave him a look that could only be described as pure exasperation,

"Your technician said you needed to take at least the rest of the night off, why wouldn’t you just say that we're unavailable?"

Nines gave a dismissive hum, his hand moving in a manner that suggested the dilemma you had brought up was of very little importance.

"I saw no reason to turn down the case, as all that would do is delay the inevitable."

You scoffed, adjusting your towel again to ensure it was firmly tucked into itself before you placed a hand on your hip,

"And what exactly is the inevitable in this situation? That you blow a fuse trying to interrogate a suspect because you refuse to just take it easy until your new parts come in?"

Nines shook his head, replying as if your question had been far more sincere than it actually was,

"No Detective, the inevitable is that the department sends in someone else in our stead, they neglect to solve the case, and we are left to deal with the mess that they made in the process of their failure."

You rolled your eyes, but gave a relenting sigh that your partner knew meant you no longer had any hope of not joining him at the scene,

"There are literally three other people in the android crimes division, Nines, how much mess could they possibly make?"

The android in question gave you a rather pointed look and took a step back before gesturing toward his room,

"I am confident that I don't need to answer that question for you, Detective. Now, if you're finished in the bathroom, you're more than welcome to use the bedroom at the end of the hall to change. I took it upon myself to collect your jeans and find you a shirt while you freshened up."

You glared at your partner before begrudgingly agreeing, briefly heading back into the bathroom to grab the clothing you had abandoned on the floor previously to ensure that you would have undergarments to wear, since you severely doubted Nines' ability to procure those for you.

With that, you started making your way down the hall, taking note of the way that the android was quick to follow. 

"You broke your promise about leaving you know."

You stated matter of factly as you passed the threshold to the master bedroom, trying not to look as in awe of the large space as you actually were when you turned to face your partner, who tilted his head slightly in response to your words,

"On the contrary, Detective, I was actually very careful to keep it. I neglected to leave the property, and therefore did not leave in any meaningful sense of the word."

You rolled your eyes and placed a hand on the door, preparing to shut it in order to give yourself some privacy,

"Whatever you say, Nines. Is there anything else you need, or can I get changed now?"

Nines shook his head,

“No, there is nothing else that I require, Detective. I’ll wait here in the hallway in case there’s anything you may need.”

You gave a slight nod and muttered a soft "Thanks", before you closed the door, sighing gently while stepping back to sit at the edge of the large California King sized bed, the black comforter that covered it feeling slightly cool against your skin as you began to dry your hair to the best of your ability.

After finishing up with that, you stood and prepared to get dressed, even though the shirt Nines had provided would clearly be big on you.

You started with your undergarments before moving on to your pants, stepping into the familiar clothing with ease before you tugged the large white button up Nines had given you over your head, immediately noting just how soft the fabric felt against your skin, and how despite it clearly being clean, it still had that faint smell that reminded you so thoroughly of your partner.

Turning, you looked in the mirror, letting out a quiet chuckle at the sight of yourself in Nines' shirt, the sleeves hanging well past your hands in a way that made you look like a child playing dress up again.

You shook your head at the situation you’d found yourself in, tucking the front of the shirt into your jeans before threading your belt through the loops, doing your best to look as professional as possible despite your lackluster clothing options.

You were just about to glance toward the mirror and look at your reflection one final time when a set of three firm knocks on the door brought your attention elsewhere.

"You can come in!"

You shouted back, hearing the gentle click of the door opening just a few moments later as Nines slowly stepped into the bedroom, his gaze falling to your new clothing immediately.

Laughing a bit, you held your arms out and gave a slow spin,

"How do I look? Do android tailored shirts suit me?"

You asked sarcastically, watching as Nines cocked a brow and stepped forward, his gaze flitting across your form as he fully took in the sight of you, before finally, he opened his mouth to speak,

"The clothing is plenty suitable as long as you feel comfortable wearing it."

You rolled your eyes a bit at that, shrugging as you pushed the sleeves up towards your elbows messily, crinkling the fabric in disorganized patterns that had both sleeves falling back down towards your wrists unevenly as a result.

Nines all but scoffed at your actions,

"And how do you intend to inspect a crime scene with your sleeves getting in the way, Detective?"

You shrugged dismissively as you began to search for some sort of hair tie in the pocket of your jeans

"Eh, I'll roll them up on the drive over."

You grinned to yourself as you found an elastic in your back pocket, preparing to turn toward your partner to finish your conversation when you felt a light tug at the fabric of your sleeve, which had begun to dangle off your hand once more.

Surprised, you looked toward your left arm, where the sensation was coming from, only to find that Nines was holding it between two sets of fingertips, seemingly contemplating the fabric before he looked up at you expectantly,

"May I, Little Mouse?"

You blanched at the now familiar nickname before regaining your composure and nodding slowly, barely resisting the urge to sigh in exasperation,

"If you really think you have to, then sure, but I can do it myself, you know."

You clarified quietly, your voice sounding more than just a little breathless as you spoke.

"I believe you're perfectly capable, if that's what you're worried about, Detective. I simply believe my assistance might speed up the process for us both."

Not sure how to reply, you just nodded silently, ignoring the quickening pace of your heart as your partner stepped forward, now much closer as he lifted your hand up to his shoulder so he could roll the fabric of your borrowed shirt sleeve up your arm in tight and even folds. He continued with this until finally, he reached the area just above your elbow and stopped, using the button tab to hold the sleeve in place before he gestured for your right arm, placing your hand similarly upon his shoulder before he began the process once more.

You watched closely all the while, feeling almost in awe of Nines as you studied the way his face looked up close, counting the constellations of freckles that dotted his artificial flesh, and taking note of the way that his jaw shifted as he concentrated heavily on the task at hand, completely unaware of your watchful gaze as he worked.

However, what you were entirely unaware of yourself, was just how focused on you the android truly was.

Despite his consistent perfection when it came to the task at hand, his mind was much more occupied with the way you looked in his clothing.

His shirt, that had been tailored explicitly for him and no one else.

He had never considered before that something made solely for him could look so right on someone else, much less his smaller human partner, but even so, he found himself enamored by the way your fingers had wrapped around the sleeves as they had dangled below your hands, and the way the shirt seemed to flutter about your body even after you had tucked the front of it into your jeans.

But above all else, his mind was stuck on how well the color of the fabric looked against your skin despite its neutral tones, as if you had been the person made to wear it all along.

He broke himself out of his internal reverie just as he began buttoning the second sleeve in place, his artificial breaths that he hadn't consciously chosen to pause starting up once more as he rooted himself firmly in reality again.

Despite him clearly being finished, the two of you remained in that position for just a little while longer, him with his fingers brushing gently against the skin of your arm, and you with your hand holding loosely to his shoulder, your faces suddenly seeming much closer than just seconds before as he lowered his gaze from your sleeve in order to meet your eyes, the intensity of his piercing gray/blues shocking you for a moment before you managed to regain your composure, clearing your throat lightly as you lowered your hand from his shoulder hesitantly, your gaze slowly dropping away from his and instead moving to the mirror to the right of you, where you found your reflections staring back, unyielding in their persistent attention.

Suddenly though, you watched as Nines' LED briefly circled yellow just seconds before your phone gave it's familiar notifying chirp of a work page, causing you to groan and look around for it, only to have Nines give a subtle smirk and roll of his eyes before pulling it out of his pocket and handing it to you with only a silent quirk of his brow that nearly made you want to punch that slightly smug look off his face.

He always found amusement in how easily you lost things or sometimes even outright forgot them, leaving him to remember their importance and carry them on his person in order to ensure the two of you remained at "peak efficiency".

You, on the other hand, were not nearly as big a fan of how often he'd been right regarding your persistent forgetfulness, even when you were actively trying to remember everything that you needed.

Sighing, you reached over to take your phone from your partner, mumbling out an annoyed “Thanks.” before you checked your most recent work notification and frowned, glancing up at the android standing before you,

"Are you sure you want to do this? We can just call out."

Nines didn't even seem to give your question any thought before he simply nodded and pulled your car keys from his pocket, spinning them around on his index finger casually,

"I'm sure, Detective. Is there anything else you need before we go?"

Letting out yet another sigh of pure exasperation, you shook your head, barely resisting the urge to roll your eyes as you replied,

"Nope, nothing else. Let's get this night over with."

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Series Masterlist

[danielfuckingricciardo]

F1 Drivers x The Thick of It Quotes

Rewatched TTOI again and Malcolm Tucker’s quotes are just too iconic so I had to do something with them!

So here’s a collection of incorrect quotes pretty much showing that Max more than anyone else in the paddock is incredibly Malcolm Tucker-coded

Tw: Lots of swearing, suicide discussion, violence discussion

Charles (about Xavi): No, he’s useless. He’s absolutely useless. He is, he’s useless, he’s as useless as a marzipan dildo. Alright. Got to go. Xavi’s just walked in.

———

Max: How fucked am I?

Daniel: Well, you look awful, you look terrible. I mean, you often look quite bad, but…

Max: I mean, in terms of negative publicity. On the fuckometer, where am I?

Charles: Oh, 12.

Daniel: Yeah. 12, say.

Max: Out of what?

Charles: Er… 50.

Daniel: Oh, mine was out of ten.

Max: Right, (to Charles) so I’m 24% fucked according to you, (to Daniel) but according to you I’m 120% fucked?

———

Daniel: Did you see the news?

Max: NoMFuP.

Daniel: Eh?

Max: NoMFuP, N-O-M-F-U-P, Not My Fucking Problem - I quite liked that, did you like that?

Daniel: Yeah, it’s very good.

Max: I think I’ll use that quite a lot today.

Daniel: I’ll use it as well.

———

Max: (knock at the door) Come the fuck in, or fuck the fuck off.

———

(Max, Daniel and Checo are looking down at the atrium of a new building from their floor.)

Daniel: Good spot for a suicide, this, I would think: good long drop, appreciative audience.

Max: What if you just broke your back? You know, you’d be paralysed for life and they you’d still be depressed about the thing that was depressing you in the first place.

Checo: What are these, um, hangy-down things?

Daniel: Oh, they’re acoustic baffles, they stop it getting too echoey in here.

Max: So when you’re breaking your back, nobody can hear you screaming?

Daniel: Well, that is the kind of attention to detail that you get in an FIA building.

Christian Horner: (Spotting them from the ground floor) HEY! GET BACK TO WORK, ALL OF YOU!

———

Charles: Christ, Max, how do you appear out of nowhere in a building entirely made of glass?

Max: I’m a shape-shifter.

———

Max: Hey, I’m going to have a swear box installed on Monday.

Checo: What?

Max: Fucking joking, you twat! I’m on turbo.

———

Max: (To Charles) Hey, what’s wrong with you? You look like you’ve shat a Lego garage or Something.

———

Lance: Do you know, Fernando? Er, the best way to clear a paper jam?

Fernando: I don’t know, Kill a kid an hour until it sorts itself out?

———

Daniel: Afternoon, gentlemen! I heard there were sandwiches and I’m a fucker for cress - no, no, no, please don’t get up, I’m not viagra.

———

Max: Get over here, now. Might be advisable to wear brown trousers, and a shirt the colour of blood.

———

Daniel (about McLaren): Right, when I came into this team I thought, 'OK. Let's turn a fresh page.' So I turned a fresh page, and you collectively have drawn a gigantic fucking cock on it!

———

Esteban (about Mick): We're like Dick and Dom, aren't we? Great chemistry.

Lance: Yeah. Except neither one of you are Doms.

———

Toto: When the Red Bull drivers are here, you tell them nothing except where the toilets are, but you lie about that. And George, keep your tits in.

———

Max: Oi! Oi! James fucking May! It was you who sprayed the private information about the cost cap, wasn't it?! Like Jenson Button shaking up a magnum of piss!

———

Alex: Do you channel all your passions into pie charts, George? I don't even think you're excited about winning. I bet when you orgasm, you just put a little tick on a chart next to your bed.

———

Charles: Happy Birthday, Max.

Max: Stop saying that, right? Just you go home. What is this? Don't...Is this my new anal beads?

(Max looks at the box)

Max: Okay, this has been X-rayed, yeah? I'm not gonna get fucking, a present bomb in the face?

(Max opens the box. It contains a cake which reads 'Happy Birthday Cunt')

Max: This could be from anybody. (opens the accompanying card) Ah, it's from Checo. This is fucking Checo’s idea of a joke, yeah? And he wonders why we don't let him out in public.

Max: (leaving the paddock later that day) It's my birthday! (Offering Yuki a piece of cake) Cunt cake? Go ahead!

———

Fernando: (to Lance) Have you been in the paddock lately? Jesus, it's like the break-up of the Beatles, right? During the fall of the Roman Empire, while fucking Jordan's getting divorced from that bloke. All happening at the same time in a tiny fucking area, yeah?

———

Lando: Look at this! Takeaway and a fight. All I need now is a handjob in a bus shelter, I've had the great British night out.

———

Lando: Jesus, you're about as on the ball today as a dead seal!

Daniel: Hey, that's one of my fucking lines!

———

Max: Checo, I thought we had a deal, right? When I need your advice I'll give you the special signal, which is me being sectioned under the fucking Mental Health Act.

———

Daniel: (to Max) Good holiday?

Max: Shut it, you fucking hairdresser.

Checo: (to Max) Got any photos?

Max: I've got a photo of you in a minute with your cock nailed to the desk.

———

Max: (answering a knock at his door) Listen, if you are not a prostitute or a pizza guy, fuck off! (to Checo) Checo, listen, could you eat or fuck whatever's at the door on your fucking way out, please?

———

Max: (On the phone to Christian) How can I be held responsible? What, for what? I've created a what around the paddock? I've created a vibe? Listen, son, the only fucking vibe you have to worry about is the one that your wife hides in her knicker drawer.

———

Charles: Well done Max

George: He's very impressive, isn't he? In the way that, you know, Chairman Mao was actually quite impressive.

Lewis: Well that's the thing about the evil, isn't it, their amazing work ethic.

———

Max: Forgive and forget. That's my motto.

Daniel: I thought your motto was 'Who fucks wins' or 'Honi soit qui Max y fuck'.

———

Sebastian: OK people, I'd like to start this session with a question: when is a party not a party?

Fernando: When it's at your house?

———

Fernando: I'm on my own here, there's no one quite like me. Not here, not any more.

Lance: Yeah. You're the last VHS in Oxfam. They won't take them anymore, I've tried. Seasons 1 to 5 of The X-Files, nothing, can't give them away.

———

Daniel: (on the phone to Charles) You are not going to try and talk me down off a ledge, are you? Because, I've got to tell you, I'm really tired and the pavement looks like a nice, warm, splatty bed right now.

———

[ilhoonftw]

ok idk how widespread this information is but i grew up in kraków (cracow) and that's a touristy town. it's the capital of małopolska (lesser poland) voivodeship and it's rather close to both oświęcim and wieliczka. oświęcim is the city where nazis decided to built auschwitz at, when poland was occupied. before ww2 oświęcim a large jewish community. wieliczka is the city where a salt mine is located, very cool place. kraków itself has a district called kazimierz that used to be a place where both polish and jewish cultures co-existed, it has a lot of landmarks. it's also very gentrified but that's a story for another day. on the other side of river wisła (vistula) you can visit the schindler factory that was turned into a museum

the fact a lot of tourists come to the region to tour around those places. i mean it makes sense, you buy a tour package l, land in kraków airport, tour all those places at once. however you can say the order of things became a bit of a... paradox? isn't it weird that one day you go to a place where so many people lost their lives only to hours later enjoy the beauty of a salt mine. last time i went to mocak, an art museum next to the schindler museum, you had to pass through an outdoor art instaltion. it's a tunnel that has 'auschwitz wieliczka' and it's supposed to show the ... irony? idk the right word. the installation was moved couple times, it even ended up getting locked up in a warehouse due to weirdos constantly destroying it by spray painting terrible things on it.

and after this long intro, here's the main thing i want to you to know. in my community it was known that israel plans special tours for young people to show them the history. i used to see groups of tourists on the ghetto heroes square. it's also a home to an art installation, sculptures of chairs are meant to commemorate those who lost their lives. allegedly due to "previous unruly behavior" some hotels ban those groups from booking but idk how legit this info is.

those trips to poland are called shoah tours and organized for high school kids. that also are yet to enlist in the idf. could you say it is using a past tragedy to invoke some sort of duty to protect the country? they are widely criticized, both by polish and israeli researchers. there's this very known in poland documentary about them, showing how supposedly israeli kids are told polish people are hostile and will hurt them if they aren't careful? again, that's alleged. that documentary is unfortunately often used by antisemites. this is another long story i do not have the expertise to explain. it's upsetting in general. you have young minds being, maybe this is a strong word but, poisoned. every young person should be taught ways to make independent decisions and develop ways to analyze things on their own, not to be told what to think. also, there's a rumour that those kids and their teacher are accompained by mossad agent? some are so sure of this they play 'spot the oddly looking teacher with concealed weapon' whenever they see a large group of high school kids walking around the areas i mentioned at the start of the post, wit a guide that speaks hebrew

i know there's research done by various sociologists how those tours mostly benefit idf and are used as propaganda tool. in fall 2022 tours were cancelled due to government level conflict between israel and poland. as you can guess, there's a lot of tension there.

thank you for reading this very long post. i want to point out this is a topic i'm familiar with due to growing up in the area, however i moved out a long time ago so my experience as a local might be outdated. nor i'm an expert in the matter of jewish history. this is purely subjective account and i'm sorry if i misrespresented anything

[mejomonster]

I fucking love them so Much. So much. Luo wenzhou is SUCH a dad, in a way a lover I personally think shouldn't be but hey it works for Them so who am I to say, just like that level of yelling and lecturing is SO unnecessary but like? For Fei Du its so opposite of his own dad, so safe and non threatening. Being manhandled by Luo wenzhou? It's out of love and a reminder Luo wenzhou views him so Mundanely and Normally and is so comfortable touching him regularly, a reminder Luo wenzhous his home where they just do that to each other, Luo wenzhous awful lectures aren't "a parent he's failed who's like God to him as a child causing abandonment fear issues" (which fei dus dads terrible "lessons" most certainly were and abandoment felt like potential death), but instead it's "this person who loved him So much he's lecturing like The only thing he knows how to do because he is Not going to abandon fei du no matter what." With these two menaces Shixiong is a million things, including fei du the lover trying to sweettalk his man and fei du the brat trying to suck up to his guardian, it's fei du giving him a kiss on the lips to get his way and Luo wenzhou seeing him as an Absolute playboy scoundrel.... but also HIS man, his immature brat who he'll forgive for trying to play him, his fei du to spank and tell off and put in his place to "mind yourself until dinners over." And it's also just so goddamn domestic and all their dynamics interweave into this one whole that's so natural and warm for both of them but so many things at once. (And then of course, Luo wenzhou is the one afraid of fei du dying to the point of past a lovers concern, cause he loves like a fantasy epic, like a guardian angel would love, while also assuming fei du only knows to love like a man playing with a temporary meal - though he'd die for Luo wenzhou which is love but it's Own problem since Luo wenzhou doesn't want him in danger. And Luo wenzhou reverting to caretaker bossing around when he's worried for fei du and fei du just... totally comfortable with it as ridiculous as it is. Is it any wonder their word for lover/baby/darling is shixiong). Also luo wenzhou just.. loves so openly and vulnerably.

Quote chapter 94:

Luo Wenzhou’s heavy heart seemed to have had a maglev installed; it rose in midair with a flutter, swimming around his chest. He focused, then casually strolled over to the car’s window, bending down and planning to knock, when his surprise suddenly turned to fright—

 

He didn’t know how long Fei Du had been waiting; he was curled up in the driver’s seat asleep. The heating inside the car was obviously turned up high, and he, perhaps afraid of the cold, had the doors and windows tightly sealed!

 

A cold breath inundated Luo Wenzhou’s chest, his lungs nearly bursting, and he hit the car window a few times. “Fei Du! Fei Du!”

 

When he was getting ready to break open the door, Fei Du finally woke up. He moved somewhat hazily, as if he’d forgotten where he was, then noticed the sound next to him.

 

Fei Du rubbed his eyes and unlocked the car door. “Did you get off…”

 

Before he finished asking the question, Luo Wenzhou grabbed his collar and pulled him out of the car, howling into his ear, “Were you trying to die, or do you have no fucking common sense!”

 

Fei Du stumbled. Suddenly pulled from the inside of the car that was as warm as springtime into the cold wintry air, he shivered, thoroughly waking up, realizing what he’d done—Fei Du hadn’t meant to smother himself; he’d gotten out of the car to stroll around while waiting for Luo Wenzhou, but he really couldn’t stand the cold and had gone back to the car to warm up for a while. He just hadn’t expected that his stay in the hospital would have injured him to such a degree; before the blood had fully circulated to his hands and feet, he’d accidentally fallen asleep.

 

Fei Du very rarely did stupid things like this in front of others; he was quite upset. “I actually…”

 

“Go, go, get the hell over there.” In his rage, Luo Wenzhou didn’t want to hear his explanations. Pushing and pulling, he tossed Fei Du into the passenger’s seat, then charged around and got into the car, pulling out of the parking spot like a whirlwind, leaving a ten-meter trail of exhaust. Then he remembered something and, swearing, got out of the car and brought over the forgotten bicycle and box of meat, dragging them into the trunk.

 

He slammed the car door thunderously and furiously drove home.

 

Fei Du had reached his present age with little experience of people howling into his ear. His ears rang from Luo Wenzhou’s outburst, and he hadn’t quite pulled himself together, like Luo Yiguo after knocking over and breaking a porcelain bowl.

 

After a period of dumb staring, he finally pulled himself together. To cover up the awkwardness, he showed an overly slick smile, put one hand on his head and the other, very ill-manneredly, on Luo Wenzhou’s thigh. Lowering his voice, he said, “Shixiong, are you so worried about me?”

 

Luo Wenzhou didn’t want to fool around with him. He slapped away his paw. “Get away.”

 

The invincible President Fei instantly changed tactics, slowing his voice. “I was just too cold and got in to warm up. I wasn’t going to stay long. I was…oh, I was resting my eyes just now.”

 

Luo Wenzhou coldly said, “Were you resting your ears, too?”

 

Fei Du: “…”

 

Fei Du’s few sentences of justification started up a counter-reaction. Luo Wenzhou had recovered from his initial almost overpowering fear, and it was as if some button had been pressed; he took a deep breath and unleashed a lengthy and explosive lecture upon Fei Du.

 

Luo Wenzhou naturally came by his superior ability to improvise lectures and scoldings from his father. Starting from an enumeration of every shameful thing Fei Du had ever done, he came down to him thoroughly forgetting the doctor’s orders as soon as he’d gotten out of the hospital, going out to play who knew where first thing in the morning, trying to make himself sick.

 

Finally, he issued a rather forceful question in response to Fei Du’s paltry explanation. “You’re cold? If you’re cold, why don’t you wear long underwear?!”

 

This question rendered Fei Du speechless. He could only keep quiet, listening to the lecture all the way home, not attempting to put in another word.

 

Seeing that, after going inside with the box of cured meat in one hand and the clanking bicycle under the other arm, Luo Wenzhou still showed no signs of ceasing hostilities, Fei Du, without any warning, suddenly hugged him, kissing him like a surprise attack, this time saying the proper lines. “Shixiong, I was wrong.”

 

“…” Luo Wenzhou kept his face as stern as possible, but his voice relaxed uncontrollably. “Don’t give me that.”

 

Fei Du lowered his head slightly, burying his face against his neck. He thought about it, then said, “Can I make it up to you with my body?”

 

Luo Wenzhou had known he couldn’t expect anything good to come out of a scoundrel’s mouth. He lightly smacked the small of his back, then gave him the bicycle, saying, “You can put the bike away in the basement—get some exercise before we eat, you look like you need it.”

 

Fei Du knew when to quit. He held the handlebars, pushing the big, crude bike into the basement. There was a full-length mirror on the cabinet in the stairwell. Coming back up, he carelessly looked up and found that there was a rather indistinct smile at the corners of his mouth.

 

The bicycle’s chain had just been oiled; Fei Du’s neatly pressed pant leg had picked up a clear stain in the process of moving the bike. He paused, as if not understanding what he had to smile about. Just then, Luo Wenzhou hurried him from the kitchen. “Don’t just wait around to eat, come over here and help. Can you wash vegetables?”

 

The one-time domineering director-general, reduced to being a porter and vegetable-washing lackey, scratched his nose. “…no.”

 

Luo Wenzhou said, “You can’t do anything! You’re as useless as Luo Yiguo… Ah, you little whelps!”

[sincelastsession]

FUCK MY NEIGHBORS

They turned over all my planters now and I have NO PROOF but NOBODY else that lives here would do that. They know I have spoken to the SWAT sheriff twice now and he believes me and is on my side and all but the fuckin office will not listen to his expert advice to put a safety camera up at the pool area and he doesn't think I should have to put cameras up. Like there was a literal drug dealer that lived there before and was WAYYYYY quieter and chill and kind. My neighbor Darlene also a black woman with her one child has described these people as "ratchet" and told me they could not be reasoned with and want me to confront them and will likely keep bothering me tillthey get caught or I move out. I haven't checked my car but I fear they have fucked with it too. There's no cameras ANYWHERE on the premises. They want me to get a camera. I do not have it in my budget to get a cheap camera to put it up to deter people that should know what courtesy is as it isn't a fucking hard concept to understand.

I'm having fucking heart issues and a ptsd flare and autistc burnout from hell and god fuckin knows what else and now I can't fuckin sleep because ppl gotta be all in my fuckin plants to get back at me and FOR WHAT.

The pool was pristine and empty and they could have gone swimming despite the notes we all got. But no they chose to wreck my shit.

I do not give a damn if the pool is packed like a tin can and people swan dive off the balcony as long as they keep it down because I live here along with 20 other apartments with residents in just this area.

I don't know why they think it's just me calling because my neighbors do too.

This is fucking bullshit.

I do not need this stress.

I want to be financially independent but right now I NEED my parents to move me.

Fuck I mean I even told them i'd stay in a studio with essentials for a while if they could pay for storage but every safe area studio starts at 800-900 and I can't swing that by myself either.

I do know one person looking for a good roommate to live with and im going to ask my parents about a 2br 2bath place and let her just pay less rent to give em a break. Idfk what else to do. Maybe they will agree and she will be thrilled to move in. I dunno tho because she has her kids on the weekends but i know she's not terrible.

It's almost impossible to speak with my dad. He was an embarrassing ass coming over here and i told him not to touch the plant massacre and he moved shit before the officer could take goddamn pictures.

Then as I'm done sweeping up while the officer stood there because I was terrified feeling like as soon as he walked to go back home and my dad left the fucking neighbors were screaming laughing at "that white bitch sweeping up all the dirt was so funny"

I was super upset and Travis is like "Yeah you need to move" and everyone is like "yeah you should move" and ive been calling places and literally every place even the ghetto is "too expensive" and I have offered to try and put money towards various things if it will help me move faster.

I do not have another adult to cosign a lease with and being on SSI I can't sign a lease myself currently and if I could get a housing voucher the areas they are in aren't any safer and they do not allow animals no exceptions.

I don't have an appointment with you for next week. This is VERY DISTRESSING. I need to maybe have a check in if you have the time to call briefly. I don't know what to do and I don't know if im handling any of this well and im scared to leave my apartment now.

Like I do not care if it was just planters. It has been TWICE now.

I'm not crazy and they are doing shit to fuck with my head and damaging my property and because I have no camera money they are getting away with it. Plus there is nowhere to mount the damn cameras. I cannot run a cord or mount without like a professional install.

Fuck this.

I just want to live in peace and heal and have a life without worrying if i'm going to wake up to more shit broken or worse.

I legitimately almost had to go to the fucking hospital b/c my bpm was tachycardia when I checked it with my EKG tool. Had to CHEW my anxiety med and resist barfing to get it to kick in faster.

I'm sweating like hell from stress. I keep being unable to speak at times. I am getting MORE fight or flight urges and the coping mechanisms aren't doing shit currently.

I can smell someone smoking cigarettes outside my apartment but I am too scared to open my door and look.

No just fucking NO NOPE I FUCKING CANNOT THIS IS NOT OK. I go through enough already.

[sshbpodcast]

Tales from the Holodeck: VOY Fanfic: Caitlin’s Story

It's that time again. It's A Star to Steer Her By's 7th anniversary, and [not so] coincidentally Star Trek's 57th! Slightly more coincidentally, we also just wrapped our watch-through of Star Trek: Voyager! Not only can you check out our favorite and least favorite episodes, but you can also peruse our latest celebratory fanfic!

Scroll on below to read the latest installments from our annual "Tales from the Holodeck" writing challenge, and follow along with our cold reads on this week's podcast episode (this one starts at 28:03). We present to you Caitlin's zany Voyager–Deep Space Nine crossover in which there's always a bigger con artist.

[images © Paramount/CBS]

“Untitled”

By Caitlin

Random picks: Dala, Quark

"Kathryn, I have to say, I never expected to find you in such a broken down dump as this ship. Why, I –" It was then that the figure stopped and looked at her – really looked at her. "You're not Kathryn. Who are you? And why are you dressed as my dear Katie?"

"You're the one who popped onto my ship out of nowhere – who the hell are you?" Her hackles were up, no reason to pretend otherwise.

"You may call me Q. Though you won't need to remember that for long – this conversation is already over," said the strange man, his tone affable but with an undercurrent of danger. "You have to get up pretty early in the morning to get the best of a Q. I'll punish you for your insolence – and for that terrible hairdo. Really, Kathryn would be insulted if she could see you."

"I've already had to deal with Janeway," she spat, "and if I never had to hear her name again it would still be too soon."

A smile crossed the man's face. "Then perhaps it's time I paid a visit to my dear Katie. And as a gift, I'll deliver her the news that you have been flung far from the Delta quadrant and won't be bothering or impersonating her again."

"Wha – who do you think you are?" Dala demanded angrily.

"I, madam, am a Q, and your worst nightmare." The man raised his right hand slowly, and seemingly in slow motion, snapped the most consequential snap that Dala had ever experienced.

Her stomach lurched as her ship was hurled through space, beyond any warp speed she had ever experienced. They moved so fast that the entire bridge filled with blinding light, created by each and every star and other celestial body they passed.

They came to a stop almost as suddenly as they had begun hurdling through space. "Computer, where the hell are we?" she demanded, her voice shaky to her own ears.

"Currently located in the Gamma quadrant, exact location unknown." the Computer intoned.

"The Gamma quadrant?!" she gasped, exasperated.

"Captain, we're being targeted by an unknown ship!" the Comms officer shouted. "I've tried hailing but they aren't answering."

"Get us the hell out of here!" cried Dala, eyes wild. "We haven't come this far to be destroyed in the damned Gamma quadrant."

The tiny ship jumped immediately to life, flying away from the closing ship. The bridge crew were thrown by a sudden blast that struck them.

"Captain, shields have taken heavy damage, down to 22%!" creid the helmsman, fingers flying across the panel in front of him. "If they hit us one, maybe two more times, we'll be goners. What do we do?!"

"Evasive maneuvers, try not to take another hit. Prepare to go warp."

"Warp drive is offline, Captain, I don't think – ahh!" Another shot slammed into the small vessel, and the helmsman's panel exploded, rendering him unconscious at least. Hopefully not dead, thought Dala. I don't want to believe the worst.

We need a miracle, she thought wildly. And what she got was the next best thing.

Just in front of the ship, an anomaly opened, and she nearly leapt with joy. "A wormhole! Quick, get us through there. They'd have to be crazy to follow us!"

Dala didn't know how right she was. With the Dominion War in full swing, and Deep Space Nine right on the other side of that wormhole, the Jem'Hadar who had targeted her ship knew better than to try to pass into enemy space.

As long as the ship survives the journey through, we should finally be safe, she thought.

As they rocketed through the corridor of the wormhole, Dala felt the hair on the back of her neck rise. There was something unusual about this wormhole, but she couldn't put her finger on it. She had never felt anything like that before.

The ship exited the wormhole and floated serenely for a moment, and Dala was shocked to find that there, within view of their miraculous exit point, was a space station.

"Crew, I'm sure I don't have to tell you, but that's our destination –and if we're lucky we can find a deal or two to be made while we repair our ship.

Dala could never have expected to be welcomed aboard by the captain of the station himself. And, if this was a fan fiction about Sisko, we would get into those details. Instead, suffice it to say, there was some confusion about her identity that led to her freedom to walk around the station, but not without being watched carefully and unknowingly by the Deep Space Nine's constable, Odo.

Dala had always enjoyed a strong drink and exotic delicacies, so the jingle she heard about visiting Quark's piqued her interest. And, if what she knew about Ferengi from Voyager's logs was true, the proprietor might be able to help her to find a deal to be made.

As she approached the bar, she gave her best imitation of Janeway's confident swagger. "Barkeep, a Samarian sunset please, and perhaps some of those Bajoran delicacies I've heard so much about."

"Our specialty is the Hasperat, Captain, I'll have some brought out for you right away." The Ferengi who stood behind the bar was oozing charisma and charm, and from the rakish grin he offered her, she felt certain she had found Quark. "And to whom do I have the pleasure of serving these refreshments, Captain –?"

"Kathryn Janeway, of the starship Voyager," said Dala. "My crew and I ran into some trouble in the Gamma quadrant and we're here to make repairs and hopefully enjoy ourselves in the meantime."

This response puzzled Quark, and his calculating Ferengi mind raced. He made it his business to know every ship docked at Deep Space Nine, the cargo on board, and anything else he could get from guests in the know. He knew for a fact that Voyager was not at the station. And if she's lying, he thought, there may be an opportunity here...

"Captain Janeway, a pleasure," he said, extending an arm to pull her hand to his lips for a quick kiss and a roguish wink. "I am Quark, the owner of this establishment. You will let me know if there is anything myself or my staff can do for you, won't you?"

Dala turned her head, feigning her delight at his attention but grimacing inside. Feeling his sharp, snaggly teeth brush against her skin gave her the heebie jeebies, but knowing that she had to get on his good side, she allowed it. "Thank you Quark, I can think of no one I would trust more."

Quark smiled and served her drink, before excusing himself and walking to a table nearby, and one that was unusually full with 5 chairs rather than the usual 4. He leaned down to clean the table, and whispered, "Odo, I know you're... well, one of these chairs. I normally wouldn't do this, but I'm hoping something can be done for me if my hunch is right. That woman at the bar, she claims to be Kathryn Janeway. But I've met Janeway, and that is not her. So if we leave together later, follow me and be ready to take her down."

He straightened up and walked back to the bar, and waited.

He didn't have to wait long. After a few extra strong sunrises, Dala was ready to talk business. Loudly.

"Listen, Quark. I've heard things about you," she slurred. "And I know that you are a man who can get things. I couldn't tell Captain Sisko..." Here she whispered conspiratorially. "I'm here on a secret mission from Starfleet. It is imperative that I get weapons for myself and my crew, and that we are given access to a warp capable ship as soon as possible. Can you help me, and the Federation?"

Quark polished a glass as he looked her up and down. "How do I know you're telling me the truth?"

"You doubt the word of a Starfleet officer?" she asked, indignant. "Please, Quark, there's no one else I can trust."

"All right, Captain," said Quark, a reluctant sigh whistling through his craggy teeth. "Come with me – I can get you access to the Defiant, warp capable and even cloak-enabled. Bet you never dreamed you'd get something that good, huh?"

"That... sounds perfect," she said, shocked by her luck. "When can we go?"

"Right now," said Quark, grabbing a phaser from behind the bar and handing it toher. "Here is the only weapon I have on me – but the Defiant has a loaded armory on board. Everything you could need would be there."

Quark whispered something to the bartender next to him, and led Dala out of the room. She began to get suspicious as they walked towards the turbolifts. "Why are you being so eager to please?"

"I'm always eager to please – when the people who hold my lease need a favor," said Quark. "Rule of Acquisition 149: it always pays to have your lender be your debtor."

They boarded the turbolift and Quark commanded it to the docking ring. As they approached, Dala felt a twinge of fear as she saw two brown-clothes security officers ahead. She stopped and tried to back away, but a strong hand wrapped itself around her arm. "Going somewhere?" a deep, and deeply sarcastic, voice came from behind her.

Dala was spun around to face Odo, the shapeshifter who served as Deep Space Nine's constable. "What is the meaning of this?" she demanded. "I am Kathryn Janeway of the starship Voyager, and you are interfering with official starfleet business –"

"Oh, no, I'm afraid not," said Odo with a wry smile. "I don't know who you actually are – but I did confirm with Starfleet that Captain Janeway is still lost in the Delta quadrant, and no communication has been made to her about any secret missions. And..." he reached forward and pulled the phaser from her belt, "you are carrying an illegal firearm." He turned to the other security guards and said, "Take her to the brig. We'll talk to Starfleet to see what the punishment is for impersonating a Starfleet officer."

As the Bajoran officers pulled a struggling and arguing (undeniably drunk) Dala away, Odo looked at Quark. "I'm surprised at you Quark – no good deed goes unpunished, after all, and I thought all humons looked alike?"

"I make it my business to know everything that happens on this station, Odo," said Quark. "Besides, as I just said to... not-Janeway, it never hurts to be owed a favor by Starfleet."

Odo barked a sharp, ugly laugh. "It's almost completely unbelievable that you think this minor matter would put the Federation in your debt. But, I will admit, you've given me some food for thought."

"What more could I want, Odo? Always keep 'em guessing." Quark removed the phaser from Odo's hand and started, whistling, back to the bar.

—

Don't forget to also check out Jake, Ames, and Chris's stories from this year's Star Trek Day festivities. And next week, you definitely don't want to miss when we finally start in on Star Trek: Enterprise over on SoundCloud or wherever you get your podcasts, keep your eyes here for a new series of posts on the blog, hang out with us on Facebook and Twitter, and always have a Rule of Acquisition to quote at the ready.

[smoooothoperator]

The Last Name (M.S.)

a/n: who else cried during the Schumacher movie?

The day I met Mick, he was racing with Formula 2 on Spain. I was a volunteer as a management student that coordinated the Formula 1 drivers around the paddock and all the installations and he just bumped into me and pushing me to the floor.

"Oh shit! I'm sorry". His german accent invaded my distracted ears and when I looked up at him his blue eyes made me melt immediately. "The fault is mine". He smiled and took my hand helping me stand up, and when I was in comfort of him he smiled even more. "Y/N" I said extending my hand and he took it again shaking it. "Mick". That time I didn't know who was that the blond guy with ocean eyes. I only knew his name that he was a driver on Formula 2.

No one told me who he was. And I didn't mind.

The next time I saw him he was wearing his racing suit, the red Ferrari one. "So a Ferrari, uh?" I smiled looking at him and crossing my arms against my chest. "Long time no see" he smiled to me and walked in my direction. "You had an upgrade, as I see. Good for you".

I was there as an spectator, my volunteering year ended but I wanted to continue on that world, unfortunately my last year of career was taking too much time to enjoy the races.

"I didn't see you on the other races" he said searching for my volunteer card. "Last year I was there because I study management and I worked with the McLaren team as one of the assistants of their PR" I explained to him. "Oh? A future manager" he laughed. His gaze was shy, really shy. And then I looked at the name on his suit. 'M.Schumacher'. "A Schumacher fan? I always asked myself what happened to him... I was a fan since little and when I heard the news of that accident... how terrible". "Yeah, I... I'm a fan"

He didn't tell me the truth. And I didn't mind.

The third time I saw him I was working with McLaren, as Lando Norris assistant, we were the same age and really close. Mick saw me first, walking beside Lando on the paddock with a shirt of McLaren.

"Y/N!" He called me and Lando and I turned around. Lando gasped as he saw him walking to us and I gave some steps lefting him behind me. "I saw this year you had an upgrade" he told me and I smiled. "McLaren assistant. With Lando Norris". He looked over my shoulder and smiled to Lando, waving him and looking back at me. "I'm so happy to see you again". "Yeah, we should hang out some time now that I can travel the world again with the drivers". "Yeah, sure. Give me your number and we can talk some time". I laughed and gave him my phone, where he waited his number and saving it as 'Mick💙', making me laugh and smile to him.

When I walked back to Lando he was speechless, watching how Mick walked away. "What?". "Do you know him?". "I met him some years ago when we bumped into each other, why?". "Y/N, he is Schumacher. Mick Schumacher. He will drive for Haas the next season."

Schumacher.

"Oh". I turned my head back trying to search him, but he was already away. We walked into the McLaren box ,and whatever Lando was saying to me I didn't hear it. "Sorry Lando, I need to do a call"

I walked outside the McLaren building and searched for his number on my phone and when I found it I called him. After three tones he picked up and when I heard his voice I smiled. "I'm Y/N, are you free? I want to talk with you if you don't mind". "Yeah, I'm free. Do you want me to go for you or...?". "Yeah, we can grab something to drink if you want to".

He appeared a few minutes ago, with his Ferrari Academia Hoodie and that name on his shirt. 'M. Schumacher'. Now it make sense.

"Hi" his smile was timid as mine. "What do you wanted to talk about?". I sighed and waited for some seconds searching for the good question. "You are Michael's son, right?". My question made him stop walking and his eyes were full of panic. I took his hand and walked us between the trucks. His eyes aren't looking atme any more. "Hey Mick, it's alright" I pressed my hands in both of his cheeks trying to relax him. "I'm not mad, really". "It's just... you were the first person here that only called me by my name. They are always saying Schumacher do this, Schumacher do that... Schumacher, Schumacher. And you... for you I was only Mick". "And you'll always be just Mick."

After that day we became close friends. I never asked him about his father, never forced him to talk about it. I know his family don't like being involved with the press and they appreciate their private life. The more I know him, the more he shows how he truly is.

The summer of 2020 he asked me to go with him and his family on vacations, something that really surprised me.

"Y/N I need to tell you something" he sighed one night he stayed at my apartment for dinner. "I appreciate a lot that you are always by my side. You cheer me up when I'm down and you never asked me why, you just... you just put your shoulder letting me lay in it". "That's what friends do, Mick". "But I love you, Y/N. More than a friend" he sighed dand I looked at him with a smile, hugging him and lying my head on his chest. "I love you too, Mick". "I want you to meet my parents. I'm ready to talk about it" I looked up at him and nodded, listening patiently to him, hugging him when some tears ran down his face and kissing him after he told me everything.

The day I met his parents was like a normal day. I tried my best to make his family proud of him, talking with them like if I knew them since forever. The moment I saw Michael I wanted to cry. Cry of happiness because he is here, smiling to me like if I was one of his kids.

"Dad, this is Y/N" he said taking my hand and talking to his father.

After the dinner I was with his mother cleaning the plates and I watched how Mick talked with Michael.

"He loves you" Carinna said smiling. "He looks at you the same way Michael looked... looks at me". "It's hard, isn't it?" I asked looking at her. "We do everything we can to make him feel at home. Mick always admired him, he is proud of his father". "I admire him too. He is so strong. I was fan when I was little, watched every race with my father. When the news of the accident came I couldn't believe it... and then Mick appeared in my life". "He talked about you, you know? The girl that treated him like a normal guy and called him by his name". "He's a normal guy with an important last name. I didn't care the story of it, I care about who he is". "Thank you, darling. For being his person"

When Mick told me that Netflix wanted to do a documentary about his father and that he was going to talk there I was surprised. The Schumacher family made a wall when Michael woke up from his coma, and never did any press conference about that. Doing this was a big step and it made me proud.

"I want to ask you something" he said taking both of my hands in his. "I'm too young to get married with you" I joked, trying to calm the tension that is on the house since he told me about his interview. "What? No! I mean... not now, but... I wanted to ask you if you could be my manager. I want to work with you and being partners, you know" he asked shy, biting his lips. "This thing with the documentary is driving me crazy and I need someone by my side that helps me on keeping my head in order".

I smiled and hugged him, promising to he by his side during the entire process of recording, with him and his family.

The day the cameras came to his family house he started to panic when they gave him the things he has to talk about. He closed himself on his room and his sister and I tried our best to talk with him.

"Mick, babe, open the door. I want to see you" I sighed, nodding to Gina asking her to leave us alone. He opened the door and took my hand pulling me to his side. "I know you are nervous, but you can do this. I know talking about him is hard for you". "But is like rememorating that day, I was with him when he had the accident. I have to talk about that, about what it feels to have him and not have him." I kissed his hands and caressed his cheeks, smiling to him. "You can do this, I know you. I'll be beside the camera, you can look at me. Tell me everything, like that day, remember? When we were on my house with pizza and beer and you said you loved me. Do this for me, honey".

He nodded and and I hugged him, hiding my apace on his chest and breathing his scent, feeling home. I took his hand and interviewed out hands, squeezing his palm and drawing circles on his skin while we walked down the stairs into the living room.

The director sat him on the chair that is in front of the camera and explained to him what he has to do. I sat on the couch, behind the director and he fixed his eyes on me, biting his lips. The guionist explained him everything and he started to talk.

He started to talk, with his eyes shining at the moment he said Michael is his hero. But then the moment of the accident came and his voice started to crack.

"It's unfair" he said, moving his eyes around the room and smiling sad. "I think papa and me would understand us. We would understand each other in a different way now"

I want to cry. Hearing him talk about his father and seeing him so fragile, like if he's going to have a breakdown in any moment, is making me feel anxious. When he ended talking, his last word was at the edge of a sob, looking down at his hands. The director nodded and smiled to Mick, and signalled to the cameraman to stop recording.

Mick started to cry and I stood up quickly of the couch, running to him and wrapping his body with my arms.

"I'm so proud of you, Mick. So, so, so proud of you" I whispered attracting him into my body. I thanked the personal with him on my arms and Gina and Corinna walked with them to the front door. Later, they wrapped us with their arms. "I am so proud of all of you, my kids" Corinna said kissing our heads, making me smile because she considers me as one of the family. "Thank you so much, Y/N. Thank you for being here, for help us, for support us and for letting us use your shoulder when we need to cry. I love you so much, little girl".

The day Netflix dropped the documentary I helped Mick to announce it on all his social media. That day we were nervous and working like crazy. We agreed to watch it at night on the apartamento we share, cuddling on our coach and with the darkness of the night.

The final product was perfect. The journey of his racing career, all his problems and how he succeeded were perfect. The people talking about him was wonderful, Sebastian talking with admiration about Michaek made me cry. But the end of it left me without breath. The last interview was him.

"Oh my god" both of us sighed clearing out throats when the final credits appeared.

The silence invaded the room.

"I know I repeated this too much. But I'm so proud of you" he sighed and kissed my lips. "We'll do whatever it takes to make your father proud of who you became. I know your last name is too heavy for you, but it's time to show the world who you are. It's time to show the world that the Schumacher legacy continues"

He smiled and nodded, hugging me and hiding his face on my shoulder.

"I'll make sure that the Schumacher legacy doesn't ends" I said with a smile, knowing the meaning of my words and reflecting our future on them. "I promise you that one day you'll be part of it. You'll be a Schumacher and we will let the world know it" Mick whispered into my lips, brushing his with mines. "I'm waiting for that day, Mick"

[arlertwifey]

chapter 05. hometown ghosts

☾—parings: levi x fem!reader · genre: modern!AU, mystery, action · word count: 3.4k

☾—chapter summary: You and Levi say farewell to Trost.

☾—warnings: blackmail/threatening, knives, ideation of violence & murder, long-term illness of a parent, (discussion of) murder, (discussion of) kidnapping, brief violence, terrible service industry work

☾—notice: 18+ ONLY. MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS = BLOCKED.

☾—taglist: @cherrykamado, @lacheri, @atinyarmyx1, @midaribaby, @ackeruser, ​@araveticazx

☾—a/n: I hope you enjoy this instalment! please let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist

series masterlist ☾ writing masterlist ☾ prev. chapter ☾ next chapter [tba]

Despite the frailness of her arm, Kuchel's grip is strong when her hand closes around your wrist, her neatly painted fingernails digging into your skin. You wonder if Levi was the one to paint the little daisy designs on them: it seems like something he'd be good at.

"Just who the hell are you? And who sent you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," you reply, jerking your arm from her grasp. "Perhaps you're feeling unwell—"

"Bullshit." Her lip curls, looking at you with more disgust than fear. "Levi might not have figured out exactly what you are, but I'd know someone like you from a mile away. You all move the same way."

Clearly, she isn't going to be convinced otherwise. You let out a sigh, straightening your shoulders. Really, when you think about it, this'll make your job easier. Though Levi’s not going to like it.

"No one sent me."

Kuchel snorts. "So I'm just supposed to believe that your kind waltzed back into my son's life by chance?"

"It's a coincidence."

"If that's true then you'll have no problem leaving then," Kuchel says, icily. "Whatever you two have, leave it and get out of here. Assuming you actually give a shit about him and aren't just here to hurt us."

"If I wanted you and your son dead, you'd already be buried in a ditch somewhere," you snap, irritation rising. "Or maybe I'd dump your bodies in the quarry, like that little girl. Fitting for you, huh?"

Kuchel's face goes pale, jaw slack in shock. "Don't talk about that."

"Why not?" Maybe it's cruel to back her into a corner in this way, but it'll be easier without Levi here. “Isn’t that what happened?”

Besides, you're certain he'll only be content with waiting outside in the hall and listening in for so long. Soon he'll come galavanting in to save his poor, frail mother.

But for now there's nowhere for her to run.

"Are you really worried about me hurting you, or are you just worried that I'll dig up things you want gone?"

Kuchel swallows. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"I think I do." You fold your arms over your chest, leaning back in your chair. "In fact, I think I probably know more about it than you do. But I want to hear it from you all the same. Got it?"

You cross your legs, making your long skirt slide up your calf. Her eyes catch on the sharp plastic shiv taped against your leg. At this angle, Levi shouldn't be able to see it, even if he were to look in through the doorway. Good. This threat isn't for him anyway.

"What do you want?" Kuchel asks slowly, the gears in her mind turning.

"Tell me a story." You drum your fingertips against your arm. "Tell me everything you know about what happened to Mikasa Ackerman."

Kuchel shudders as you speak her name.

What is surprising is the level tone of her voice as she begins speaking:

"My brother-in-law—or whatever you want to call him—Kenny, was never a very nice man. In fact, calling him a complete monster is more accurate. I did my best to keep Levi away from him, but back then he practically ran this town. All the bad things that happened here always seemed to circle back to Kenny. Like shit running down hill."

"What about her parents?"

A sad smile graces Kuchel's face. "Scientists. College sweethearts. She was a botanist and he studied chemistry. Mikasa was a happy little girl with them."

"Until Kenny darkened their doorstep."

There's something vacant in her eye now, like she's being dragged into long-pushed away memories. "No one ever said it. It was always just brushed off as a random robbery gone wrong. They were cut to pieces. And Mikasa disappeared."

"But you thought it was Kenny?"

"I knew it was him. I knew they argued—Kenny and Mikasa's father. You couldn't find two men that were more different. But he had something that Kenny wanted—or maybe Kenny just thought that he did—and that was never a good position to be in."

"And so he killed them all. And dumped Mikasa in the quarry."

“And then he left. No one around here’s heard from him since.” She falls silent, clearly intending to end the conversation there.

"So that's the half of it, but what about the rest of the story?" You prompt.

Her head jerks up. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the part where someone had to identify the shoe. In fact, someone had to put it there in the first place. He must have asked you to do that when the town started getting antsy after her body never appeared. I suppose, I just want to know what exactly you gained from helping with this?"

Kuchel's head falls forward, shaking. "You're a bitch."

"How original. Answer my question."

"I had Levi," her voice shakes. "Who was going to help us? Everyone else under his thumb? The cops on his payroll? Do you have any idea what would have happened to us if I didn't go through with it?"

Her skin’s gone pale, eyes frantic as they bore into yours—like an animal with its leg in a trap.

You look at her evenly. "Yeah, I know exactly what would have happened to you."

"Then you understand why I helped him. What Kenny wanted he got: whether it was killing her parents or taking Mikasa with him. I couldn't... I couldn't let him get Levi too." Her eyes drag over to the doorway, where Levi's no doubt still hidden. "My precious baby. I swore that I was never going to let anything happen to him." She laughs bitterly. "So much for that. You're here, so I guess that I did a pretty shit job."

"I don't know about that." You don't know why you feel the need to assure her. "I'm not here because of anything you did or didn't do."

"Then why are you here?"

"I'm just getting by."

Kuchel snorts and wipes away the tears forming at the corners of her eyes. "Ain't that the truth."

She lets out a long breath, back straightening.

"Feels kind of good to tell someone about what happened. Guess that whole 'getting it off your chest' thing is true."

"I wouldn't know."

That gets a proper laugh out of her. "Is this why he likes you?" she draws a circle around your deadpan face. "Like a stone cold gambler. Levi's been the same way since he was a little kid."

"No need to worry," you say, tugging the hem of your dress down, so that it covers the blade on your leg. "Your son doesn't have any fondness for me." You turn, looking over your shoulder toward the doorway.

Kuchel examines your face for a long moment. “I guess a better question is: what’s so special about him to you?”

You swallow, turning over the question in your mind. It would be easy to brush off but for some reason, pinned beneath her grey-eyed gaze, find that you don’t want to.

Instead shift forward in your seat, leaning close to her. Her eyes go wide, breath shuddering as she expects you to close your hand around her throat instead of merely resting it on her blankets.

When you speak, you do so softly, so that Levi can’t catch your words from where he’s no doubt listening in from the hall door (you heard his footsteps halt, the idiot).

“The stupid bastard helped me,” you breathe into her ear. “When anyone with common sense would have known to keep their head down and stay out of trouble. But clearly, there’s something very wrong with him. With both of us.” Your laugh surprises both Kuchel and yourself. “So now—for some fucking reason—I’m going to stick my neck out for him. And you too.”

She swallows. “Am I supposed to believe that all this is just to ‘help’ Levi and me? How the hell could someone like you help us?”

“I’ll need you to trust me.”

“Are you joking?”

“Unfortunately, no,” you reply, dryly. “We both know that so long as you’re in danger, Levi’s hands are tied. He’d do anything for you.”

“What are you saying?”

“You said that you know exactly what kind of person I am. I’m sure that’s correct. You probably have a far better understanding of the situation than your son. Which means that you also understand that this kind of offer doesn’t happen twice.”

Kuchel nods. “So make it.”

“You’ll be safe. Levi will bring Mikasa back to you, along with enough money to cover any remaining expenses you have. You’ll be a healthy, happy family once again.” You sit back, putting distance between the two of you again. “Levi helps me get what I want.” You snap your fingers. “Simple as that.”

“And what is it you want?”

“I haven’t figured all of it out yet.” You reply. “But for starters: I want Kenny Ackerman face down in a puddle of his own blood. After that... I don’t know. Maybe nothing at all.”

Her eyes widened. “What’s your business with Kenny?”

“That’s between me and him.” You tap your finger against your lips. “It won’t involve Levi, so don’t worry. I promise, I’ll be long out of your hair by then.”

You hold out your hand to her. After a long moment, she clasps it in hers. “You better keep up your end of this.”

“If I don’t, I’m dead,” you promise her.

Dropping your hand you look back over your shoulder.

“We should probably just call him back in,” Kuchel huffs. “So we’re all on the same page.”

As if he hasn’t been listening to every word, pulling out his hair to decipher your intentions.

“Levi, get in here and stop lurking in the hall,” you say, cupping your hand so that your voice carries.

There’s a beat of silence before the door swings open, revealing an enraged Levi.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He snaps, stopping to stand beside his mother’s bed.

You shrug. "She started it."

Levi gives you an incredulous look.

Kuchel reaches out, taking one of his fists in her hand and making his fingers to go slack. “Don’t worry, Levi, she didn’t do anything.”

“Is that supposed to be comforting?” He doesn’t look away from your face, glaring daggers. “I don’t like this.”

You look at Kuchel, watching as she glances between you and her son. There’s fear in her face that wasn’t there before: not of you, but rather directed toward Levi. As though she’s afraid to meet his eyes after he no doubt heard her confession.

“You’re mother has agreed to work with me… with us,” You tell him. “We can move forward now and we should do so quickly.”

Levi turns, facing his mother for the first time, as if to ask if you’re speaking the truth. She gives him a weak smile and nods.

Levi’s shoulders go slack in surrender and he sighs. He appears defeated when he looks at your once more. “Alright. What do you have in mind?”

You take a deep breath and lay out your plan.

Even though you don’t see much of it, the glimpses you get of Levi’s departure are undoubtedly depressing. He doesn’t give you rides home from work any longer, both due to your suggestion that you distance yourselves from one another, as well as because he needs the time to drive his meagre possessions to a storage unit.

That was your suggestion. Though he said there wasn’t much he wanted to keep, he’d changed his tune when you informed him that you’d bet your life his house won’t be standing by the end of this mess.

That had gotten his ass in gear.

You only stop by his home one more time over the span of the two weeks, to drop off two cellphones.

He greets you at the door, circles beneath his eyes tinged purple, hair rumpled. You walk past him into the house, not bothering with a greeting.

The place has been gutted. Now you're certain that there’s nothing of interest for you to dig up. All that’s left in the living room is a sleeping bag beside a few piles of taped shut boxes. The once-locked door to Kuchel’s room is open now, empty like the rest of the building.

“You and your mother can use these.” You toss two cell phone boxes onto the sleeping bag. “Use them to contact one another exclusively. Don’t use names. If you have to speak in specifics, use pseudonyms, got it?”

“Should I be writing this down?” He asks, dryly. It doesn’t hold any of the acrid humor it usually does.

A small part of you wants to comfort him, but the rest of you knows that even if you tried it wouldn’t come out right. It never does.

The two of you had agreed on the moving day for his mother. Really, it was child’s play. A called in favor earned her a spot in Saint Maria General Hospital, a day's travel away from Rose City. Levi had pressed you, wanting to know just who exactly would be involved with his mother’s transfer to another state, her care listened under a fake identity.

In response, you’d curled your fingers into a faux-pistol shape, tapping the end of your index finger against your temple. “Think, Levi. Isn’t it better that you don’t know?”

Your answer had shut him up for a little while.

Now though, watching his grim expression as he turns over the cellphone in his hand, you're filled with a compulsion to explain. “Dr. Hanji owes me a favor from a long time ago. They’ve insisted that I repay them for years now. Seemed like a good enough favor to ask. They’re… odd, but practically a medical genius.”

He swallows hard and nods. “Good to know.”

She’ll be okay. You want to promise him that. Somehow, though, you know it won’t do anything more for him. So instead you leave, let Levi sit with his fears and grief as you return to your silent apartment to finish the preparations for the two of your departure from Trost.

You’ve never been good at goodbyes anyway.

When the day of your departure rolls around, you’re glad to see that Levi’s on time (not that he's ever been late before).

It’s a Tuesday, the air cold again. It’s getting darker earlier now, the sun dipping toward the horizon despite it only being late afternoon.

The Legion is as warm and oil-scented as ever, the chatter of customers forming and endless static in your ears. It doesn’t faze you though—like you’re miles away already.

Maybe you already are.

Your mind is on the move, tracing its way along the path you chartered. It’s stuffed away below the insole in your sneaker, lest you lose track of it. Not that you’ll need to look at it. By this point, the route is burned into your memory.

Still, you’re certain that seeing your journey sketched out on paper will put Levi at ease.

Kitz notices of course. Sees it reflected in the tips that he pockets, or the lack thereof.

He pulls you aside after you’ve changed out of your uniform and back into your usual clothing. Really, you’d needed to talk to him anyhow, not that it’ll make the experience anymore pleasant. In fact, you’d been heading toward the office to clock out for the final time. Your ears caught the rumble of Levi’s bike minutes before, signifying the end of your shift.

“Seriously, what the hell has gotten into you?” He snarls, breath warm against your face in the cramped office. “You show up today with a piss-poor attitude and decide that’s how you’re going to deal with the customers?”

He’s not wrong per se. This is your last day—you’d have ditched if the extra money wouldn’t come in handy. Unlike the past months that you worked, you hadn’t bothered with the candy sweet smile and voice reserved for customers and the meek, wide-eyed look used to appease Kitz.

You drag your eyes down from the bulging vein on his forehead to meet his gaze. “So what? You get less of my tips?”

Maybe something else has grated on his last nerve today as well and that’s why he snaps.

Unfortunately for him, you don’t feel anything but a grim sense of satisfaction watching the shock and subsequent rage wash over his features.

“That’s it, bitch—” You see his hand rise out of your peripheral vision.

He’s too slow.

Your fist and crumpled up uniform slam into his gut, making him double over. “You were saying?”

He chokes, desperately trying to breathe. You crouch, fingers curling in his hair to jerk back his head and make him look at you.

“Pick on someone your own size next time, okay?” You say, sweetly. “‘Cause next time you try and mess with me, I’m gonna fucking bury you.”

He nods, wheezing. You stand up and toss the dress and apron at his feet. “See you around, Kitz.”

Clearly, he’s got some sense, because he doesn’t even attempt to follow after you when you leave.

Levi’s waiting in the same spot as always, leaning against his bike. There’s a backpack on his back, same with you. It doesn’t look particularly full—clearly he took your instruction to ‘pack the bare necessities’ to heart. He’s wearing a grey knitted hat you haven’t seen before., face tucked away behind his collar.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” He looks up and watches as you put on your helmet. “What’s got you in such a good mood?”

You think of Kitz’s gasping, reddened face and smile. “Would you believe me if I said I was just happy to see you?”

He snorts, stuffs his hat in his pocket, and puts on his helmet. “Are you joking?”

The bike roars to life, cutting through the quiet. He nods at you and you slip on behind him, not hesitating to hold onto him.

“So, where to?”

“The interstate. We’re heading south east.”

“South East?”

“Let’s head toward Route 29. We’ll need to stop along the way, but that’ll get us started.”

You can already tell the directions are far too vague for his taste. Surprisingly though, he doesn’t protest, instead saying, “You’ve already got our whole route chartered haven’t you?”

When you don't answer, he shakes his head. “Hold on.”

It feels like a weight is lifted off your shoulders as you watch the lights of the Legion fade out into the distance as you drive down the road. You aren't in a hurry to return to Trost. Hell, you doubt you’ll even get the chance to if you wanted to.

No, your sights are set on far bigger things than a burned out town.

Escaping with Levi at your side is… surreal to say the least. How long has it been since a life other than your own was your responsibility? Not long enough it feels like. Everything’s harder when you need to keep someone else from getting fucking murdered. You feel the comforting weight of your backpack against you—packed with all the tools you could get your hands on to ensure that your plans come to fruition.

It’ll go smoothly, you tell yourself. So long as Levi sticks to his word and actually trusts you, everything will be fine… in theory.

It’s about two and a half hours before you tap Levi on the shoulder twice and he nods before pulling off to the side of the road. The sun has dipped fully below the horizon line, lighting up the distant mountains and endless dusty land in red and orange. No one’s around for miles, aside from a gas station just visible in the distance—nothing more than a speck of glowing green-white light.

He kills the engine resting a foot on the ground to balance the bike. “What is it?”

“We need to stop here and get ready. Let's roll the bike away from the road, by those rocks.” You point to a cluster of boulders not far from the road, where the motorcycle will be shadowed.

He stares at you incredulous. “Are we seriously about to camp out here or something?”

You can’t help but laugh at his startled expression.

“No, that comes later. First, we’re going to commit a robbery.”

[appendingfic]

Disney doesn't know meta. Meta doesn't mean just stringing a bunch of characters on screen for half a second each. Meta isn't just lampshade hanging (commenting in-character on the existence of a cliche or trope as it's being used).

So lemme take a shot on what a properly meta Chip and Dale would've been:

Chip meets Ellie out in the world - she is a huge fan, and she takes an offhand comment from him out of context that causes her Facebook fanpage to blow up with the possibility of a Rescue Rangers reboot. Disney sits up and take notice and call Dale's agent to tell him to get the original cast onboard for a reboot. The first act is just Dale getting the gang together - probably asking Chip first, and then getting told Chip won't go for it unless everyone else is in first.

The next act is about the work of making this reboot, and the continuing interference of a "brand consultant" who is "here to make sure this reboot within community standards".

Filming includes many unpleasant discoveries about how things have changed. Instead of getting a full script, they get the day's scenes delivered by the creepiest spy-looking character imaginable. Backgrounds and even major props will be "CGI in post" (Gadget is incredibly disappointed because she really enjoyed building the gadgets in the original show - even got a producer's credit for it. Chip complains about the laziness of replacing real set-building with "cheap CGI tricks" which upsets Dale).

Chip: And what's with this line? Disney liaison: Oh, we've decided to hint Fat Cat is gay and is attracted to Chip - Disney's first LGBT character! Chip: Oh, is it June already?

The whole thing is a soulless mashup of pointless references and gratuitous crossovers, and worse there's a leak in the studio that is awakening a lot of negative chatter online. Ellie, who got the part of the unnecessary human tagalong character, is the prime suspect.

Of particular concern is the Last Page of the script, which the studio liaison indicates would be a disaster if it leaked.

Dale has been trying to get everyone to relax and lean into the movie - "Dude, it's just a movie. Stop acting like it needs to be Shakespeare", but Chip is suspicious, and eventually gets in to read the last page.

Chip: ...Dale dies? What sort of an ending is that? Disney Liaison: The sort of ending no one would expect. At least as long as no one spoils it. Chip: This is a terrible ending! Disney Liaison: For Dale, sure. But...not necessarily for you. This can set you up for your own franchise. Double-O Dale failed because it had no connection to his most popular character. Here - you can be the star of a new, edgy franchise. Chip and His Rescue Rangers. Chip: I don't- Disney Liaison: And it's so much cleaner this way. With your different art styles, you don't...match. Chip: Yeah, the CGI is a little awkward to work with. Disney Liaison: Better to cut loose the dead weight and have a fresh start...right?

Dale of course overhears most of this and decides to leak the ending to tank the movie - going to a huge gathering of Chip and Dale fans at Comicon.

Chip tries to stop him, and instead of his big announcement, Chip and Dale have an awkward gratuitous rap battle about the show and actually work through some of their own frustrations with each other.

Afterward, though-

Chip: That felt gratuitous Bystander: You've got a ton of views of the video of you two already - that's all that matters. Chip: ...All that matters is...the views. Chip: Holy - Dale we gotta go!

They finally corner the liaison

Chip: You're the leaker, aren't you? You're making everyone hate the movie before it comes out! For - clickbait! Disney Liaison: What does it matter? Chip: You're ruining the movie on purpose! Why - why would you do that? Disney Liaison: Look, three weeks after your movie comes out, we've got the next installment of the MCU, and buzz has been - lackluster. So I figured if we released a terrible movie beforehand, people would want to see it more in comparison. Dale: You're wasting millions of dollars to make a movie you intend to fail? Disney Liaison: Who said it would fail? Dale: ...What? Disney Liaison: People are TALKING about it, boys. And if there's enough chatter, people are going to WANT to see how bad it is. Chip: Come on - once people see the reviews that it's unwatchable- Disney Liaison: The director sends a tweet accusing the Hollywood elite attacking the movie for not pandering to their "woke" politics. Disney Liaison: See, movie making isn't about "telling a story" or whatever you've been complaining about. It's about controlling the media narrative to encourage people to SEE the movie...whatever it takes. Chip: I know one thing that'll make it so NO ONE wants to see this movie. Disney Liaison: What? Dale: *holds up his phone showing the leaked last page on his twitter* Dale: Spoilers.

In the end, because all they've done is film in front of a bunch of green screens and haven't contracted the CGI yet almost no money has been spent and they're able to wrangle a new script (I wanted to describe a plot point where Ellie is a writer and there's been hints also that she'd been working on a script for years - possibly even post the last couple of pages of the script on her fanpage to hype the new script).

[guigz1-coldwar]

'Ride of the Valkyries' : New chapter for "Redemption in a Spirit in a Cold War" is out !

'Ride of the Valkyries'

"I'm going to get through an lot of things before I can fullfill my goals in life but I already know that I'm not alone to do them ! "

Chapter Summary : It's the first day back on the mission to save Adler for Yirina & Park and both are going to have an unexpected ride to do with the others......

To read it on AO3, click here !

Words : +3300

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That talk I had with Hudson was for me, very strange to do because of the last time we did have one, he wasn't really friendly towards me and even if here, he was more acting like an creepy man, we did have this talk between us and surprisely, I managed to not get myself angry against him or him to behave like if I was still nothing or just an terrorist from the East. Despite the goods words that happened between us, I prefer to keep my distances with him and avoid to talk to him too much, still staying suspicious against him.

After that, I could finally walk to get to sleep for good...in the dorm. Like in the old days in the safehouse, back to go to sleep with people around and hearing the others sleep either loudly or silently, why it has to be an dorm ? Sleeping in an car is maybe better than an dorm but I can say that I have enough to sleep on backseats and I ain't going to sleep in the helicopters. All night, I didn't dream so much but most part of my sleep was me, having an flash coming from my fake memories of Vietnam, short but very troubling to relive, it must be my presence here that are making me relive them.

Anyway, I did succeed to have some sleep in here, waking up in the morning, even if the bed I used wasn't very comfortable and some peoples were making some noises while sleeping....better to not know who did this. Then, I go took an shower and dress myself in my military outfit as Woods suggested, he said that it was better for us to be ready at any occasions and to not lose time to change our clothes, gear up and then leave. Once I was dressed up, it was time for me to go join my workplace that I shared with Park, not forgetting to take an coffee before.

"How was sleeping ?" Park asked me as I was arriving at our workplace, an cup of coffee in hands, she was also dressed in military clothes and already awake.

"Terrible." I replied in an low voice before taking an sip of the cup and looking around to see that there weren't an lot of people inside the hangar, only Garrett & Wolf were there at their respectives desk. "With the not comfortable bed and some people sneering all night, I wasn't able to have an better sleep." I added, sitting up on my chair.

"Same." She breathed, her left hand tapping on the desk.

"Good to see that we had the same night." I whispered with an smile as our beds were next to each other without been totally together. My words make her laugh,

"I had to cover my ears at one moment." She stated, looking outside the hangar, trying to find someone. "It's probably Woods who did this." She suggested to me.

"I don't know, you should be asking." I proposed but she rolled her eyes around to me in an lovely way.

"And having me getting into deep troubles ? You can dream, Yiri." She added to her rolling eyes, making me grin, drinking my coffee at the same time. "I ain't going to get myself in trouble with Woods because I thought that he was making the one sleeping not very silently."

"Yeah, you're right." I said in an funny tone, thinking that Woods could really kill us about it.

"Damn, I knew that my military clothes were going to fit well in you." She exclaimed, seeing me dressed up. It's true that even after 2 months, I'm still using Park's clothes that she is giving me and her equipment.

"Thanks but I think that one day, I will have to use my own clothes." I told her but her clothes on me wasn't disturbing me at all to be honest, as long as I'm in some clothes, I'm good. "In fact, yeah, I love your clothes." I continued pointing at me & her.

"It doesn't bother me at all." She proclaimed, taking my right hand in her hands after I put my cup down. "You know well of it."

"Yes, I know." I admitted in an low voice, getting my head down to look at our hands. "By the way, I didn't have anything during the night, except the fake memories." I bit my lips, redressing myself on the chair, our hands still together. "Guess that been here is making me think of them."

"I know that it's all fake but....what did you see in those memories ?" She demanded, her voice sounding pretty curious.

"Well..." I started, trying in my head, to think of them as it was mainly & only flashes. "They were pretty short and only flashes, you know ?" I explained and she nodded. "I just had this image of me....piloting an helicopter by my own."

"Seriously ?" Park questioned, sounding normal and I nodded. "Do you think you can actually fly an helicopter ?"

"I don't know to be honest." I replied, raising my shoulders to her, taking an look outside to check the multiples Huey on their helipads. "Maybe yes, maybe no, I can't tell."

"Maybe you can know about this later in case." She proposed to me, gesturing the helicopters with her head.

"We'll see." I sniffed before we removed our hands from each other, mine back on the cup of coffee and hers, on her lap. "Before going to sleep, I called Zasha."

"Oh !" She smiled at hearing me talk about Zasha. "How are they ?"

"Great !" I said, proud of it as I checked my cup before finishing the rest of coffee inside. "They're saying hello to you from Portnova & them too and they said hello to Portnova for us !" I added, wanting to tell her about this.

"Nice, I think that they're doing great in Century House." She thought and for that, I nodded again.

"They're doing really great, they told me that they defeated the others of their team in an game called 'Bullshit' !" I told her and she laughed about it, she is maybe knowing about the game.

"Well, I can say that Zasha is already the best : beating the other in 'Bullshit' is an big exploit to do." She stated, sounding amazed to hear that.

"Also, we're invited the 4h of June, them & Portnova want to celebrate their wedding in private with us." I continued of telling her the call I did to Zasha and she grinned.

"Cool, I will put my best dress then." She exclaimed, giving me an lovely glare to me. "I'm sure that we will be going at their party, we have to." She added, making me smile that Park is considering the two as big friends, it's very nice. As I was thinking about seeing me in an dress, I looked around to see Garrett that was looking worried.

"Why Garrett is like that ?" I demanded, seeing him tapping his feets on the ground, an sign of big stress.

"The recon team aren't making any radio signals since an hour and he's fearing the worst as Song is in it." Park responded, feeling bad in her voice.

"Damn, is that the recon team helicopter ?" Wolf spoke up in the hangar and by that, we all looked outside to see an helicopter arriving rapidly on the base. We quickly got up from our seats to get outside, watching the helicopter landing not even on his helipad.

"Seems that they're back." Woods was also there, he was already outside the hangar, out of range from our sight as we decide to get ourselves next to the helicopter, discovering some wounded people inside. "What happened ?" Woods asked nervous to the pilot.

"The recon team....they have been ambushed...those behind were an part of it." The pilot replied as he was having his hand towards his shoulder, he was wounded and his co-pilot was dead. The helicopter was in bad shape.

"Where's the others ? Where's Song ?" Garrett questioned him, almost angry after he checked everyone in the transport and not seeing Song here as they were transported away by other personals.

"They stayed behind....to cover our escape....fuck, my shoulder." The pilot breathed before Woods decide to get him out gently from the cockpit.

"Fuck, do you remember where are they ?" Woods demanded as the pilot was starting to get taken back by medical personal.

"Yes...check the maps in the cockpit, it's their current location...be quick." The pilot finished before he was brought away. Then Woods got inside the cockpit to take the maps like the pilot told him before going out.

"Okay, okay." He whispered, checking the maps in his hands. "Everyone, gear up, we're going to save the others !" He ordered and in an second, we run straight towards the hangar to put our equipment up.

Thanks to Woods's idea to always be dressed in military clothes, we took less time to put on ourselves, the numerous pieces of equipment : vest for my mags of my MP5 and an holstler at my knee, holding my precious M1911. Once we were done, we quickly joined Woods back to another helicopter as the another one that came back was riddled with bullets and too dangerous to fly with.

"Good but before flying up.....I need an co-pilot !" Woods exclaimed to us, already having his equipment ready and we all looked at each other.

"You're going to take the commands ?" Wolf asked him, an bit confused.

"I know how to fly that : I didn't do the Vietnam War for nothing !" Woods responded honestly, pointing at the helicopter behind. "So, I'm asking again : who is talented enough to fly that with me ?" He repeated his questions and suddenly, Park's eyes fell on me.

"Yirina knows." She told him, looking him back and my eyes went wide.

"Wait...."

"Nice, so get yourselves inside and be ready !" Woods cut me straight as I was going to protest about having Park tell him that I know how to fly an Huey even if it was fake.

"I'm sorry." Park whispered to me, sounding very bad before she installed herself behind in the transport bay with Garrett & Wolf as for me, I have no choices to install myself in the co-pilot seat with Woods at our pilot.

"You're sure that you're okay to fly that with me ?" He demanded to me as he was starting up the engine of the helicopter.

"Yes but...Bell knows how to do it, not me." I told him straight, raising my shoulders to him and with that, he realized that he was with someone that was knowing only an little about flying that thing.

"Well, you'll learn from an expert !" He bragged, sounding enthusiastic as the blades start to turn and the engine to go hot. "Everyone, be ready, we're going high !" He added as the helicopter was going up with me as an pilot and me as an co-pilot....damnit, why did you do this, Park ? At least, I will learn from Woods.

We started to fly away from the base to get to the last location that the recon team including Song, Sims & Mason were and to be honest, the co-pilot part was pretty easy to understand as I was assisting Woods on telling him where to go and to make sure that the things in the helicopter was working well for him. Behind, the others were silent, not even talking even through the headsets we need to use to speak because of the rotors noises.

"We shouldn't be too far now." I told Woods, checking the maps in my hands after some long minutes of flying over the jungle.

"Thanks." He said, trying to see from afar if there were anything unusual around here.

"I hope that Rivas is making an hell of an show on the ground." Wolf exclaimed through the headset, breaking the silence that was behind for minutes.

"Who's Rivas ?" I questioned him, looking around to look at him.

"Guerilla expert that's part of the recon team, coming from Nicaraguan Autodefensas." Woods was the one to reply to my question instead of Wolf. "She's very helpful and like Wolf said, she's kinda the best on making the work done."

"She's THE best, man." Wolf called him out, insisting well on that.

"I know, Wolf, I know." Woods said, staying focused on flying that Huey with me as his co-pilot. "Anyone is not having an air sickness ?" He asked to everyone.

"All good !" Park responded as I looked towards her as Garrett only nodded to me, he was probably thinking about Song's state right now and I understand him. "You both doing great." She added, making me smile until we heard an big explosion.

"Shit, that's surely them !" Woods expressed and when I looked back in front of me, I could see an explosion coming from an specific place in the jungle. "Yirina, try to contact them." He pointed at me the radio of the helicopter that I took in hands. Woods gave me, during the flight, the frequency that the recon team is using.

"Recon team, can you hear us ?" I started, speaking through the radio, awaiting for an answer but nothing came. "Recon team, are you receiving this message ?" I repeated again.

"Yirina, is that you ?" I heard through the radio and it was Mason himself that was speaking.

"Mason, are you okay ?" I asked, worried. "Is everyone okay on the ground ?" I added, seeing Garrett peaking his head between me & Woods.

"We're fine but we will not last any longer so be quick." He ordered in an concerned voice. "We are at where the red flares are !" He continued as I looked around to see multiples red flares on the ground.

"There !" I pointed to Woods the location.

"I got this !" He told me, getting the helicopter in that direction as I was trying to communicate more with Mason but the radio went off as the gunshots on the ground was getting closer. "Shit, those fuckers are firying at us !"

"What are we doing ?" Garrett demanded.

"We land with the engine still going on and once everyone got in, we're flying away." Woods replied as he was getting close to the landing zone. "Yirina, you're taking the commands, I will help the other." He continued as he was landing the helicopter

"What, no !" I protested over that, meaning that I will have to fly that thing by myself back to the base and that Woods just landed it.

"Trust me, you will do this !" He proclaimed as he was starting to take his XM4 in hands behind his seat. "The others, with me outside !" He ordered, getting outside with Park, Garrett & Wolf to provide some firepower to the remainder of the recon team.

"For fuck sake." I thought to myself as I was starting to move myself from my seat to get on the pilot seat.

Honestly, I will have everyone's lives in hand at the moment I will have to take off and once I got myself settled in the pilot's seat, I already wanted to get back to my former seat...until I touched the commands and in my head, I could see the same flash I had this night....seeing me fly by myself an Huey with Sims & Adler, firying from the helicopter and now, it was looking like that...I was able to fly an helicopter, that Huey, like if I always did this.

I looked outside for an second to see Woods helping Mason to get inside, he wasn't wounded but he was helping nonetheless, Garrett was helping Song as Park, Wolf were with Sims  & an woman that I presume to be Rivas to provide some suppressing fire to cover their retreat back inside the helicopter. Then, it was time for everyone to get away back into the chopper.

"Yirina ?" Sims called me out, seeing me at the pilot's seat as Woods was installing himself on the co-pilot seat...at my place. "Are you not forgetting the old times ?" He scoffed, seemingly forgetting our last time we talk to each other.

"No time for jokes, get us fly away !" Woods ordered as he was right, not time for fun right now before I start to take off.

"Is everyone well attached ?" I asked everyone, wanting to know in case I have to make some dangerous manouvers....in case.

"All set !" Garrett answered as I was staying focused on flying that Huey away from the combat zone.

"Shit, they've got aerial support !" Rivas shouted, discovering her voice and I quickly looked behind us, discovering....

"An Hind ?" I exclaimed, surprised to see that here.

"Damnit, Perseus is seriously not joking !" Wolf told us.

"Try to hit it with that mounted M60, Wolf !" Woods ordered, looking behind him. "Park, take the other one." He added before he got back to look in front of him. "You're okay, Yirina ?"

"Why I shoud be ?" I raised my voice to him. "We've got an Hind pursuing us and you think that I'm okay ?" I told him like that as I was trying to save everyone with me, having the commands on an american Huey.

"Well, I've got something for you." He whispered to me before he activate something on the controls panel with his hand and then, I could hear some loud classical music coming from some hidden speakers.

"What....what's that ?" I demanded, confused.

"That's Richard Wegner....Ride of the Valkyries !" Sims was the one to respond to me. "Believe me, like in the old times !" He added, joking again as the music was going in. "Still having the Vietnam's spirit, show that Hind who we are !" He exclaimed to me as I was trembling until I got myself back well & determined.

"Let's do this !" I said in an determined voice, starting to fly low just above the tree as an mean to avoid the multiples bullets that the Hind was shooting at us and Wolf & Park trying to shoot it down while the music were going loud in the helicopter, I'm already imagining the other's faces about it. "This bastard ain't going to go down." I breathed, seeing the Hind still behind us after some minutes.

"We have to shoot it down before we can go back to base." Woods explained, we couldn't let this Hind getting away, we have to destroy it and we're in an Huey who has only two mounted M60 against an helicopter armed with an minigun and rockets.

"You didn't bring your minigun, Wolf ?" Rivas spoke up.

"My....oh, my 'Death Machine', yes !" Wolf expressed. "Grigoriev, try to not move the helicopter too much, I'll try to shoot that chopper down." He ordered to me as I was evading the missiles that the Hind was sending us.  "Good, now, try to put the Huey in line so I can fire !" He added, making me move the Huey in position, allowing him to get prepared and I quickly looked at him, holding an minigun in hands as everyone was sit down, letting him get some space. "Surprise, fuckers !" He shouted before he start firying with his minigun towards the Hind who received the multiples bullets from the 'Death Machine'.

"Yeah ! Got it !" Mason expressed his joice when the Hind bursted into flames and starting to go down. "Nice job, Wolf and nice fly, Yirina." He added as I took an deep breath, finally free to not make too much zig-zag around the Laotian jungle.

"Thanks." I said in an low voice before I took back the commands and slowly getting away from the sector back to the base.

"We got saved and we got what we need for." Song told us.

"Nice job from everyone !" Park affirmed, making me smile after what we just did to be honest, with me flying an helicopter as I didn't know about it earlier, I can thanks Woods for that.....

"Guess that we will have to celebrate that with an drink !"

[iphoenixrising]

Have you ever thought of doing a random "accidentally married" thing with Tim? Say, he has a good day and helps two complete. Only those two people aren't actually human, and by helping them he accidentally married them by their traditions? I was reading a fanfiction about an accidental marriage and thought about your Tim.

Hi babe.

Ah, the only one I’ve done is here: https://iphoenixrising.tumblr.com/post/176647509047/from-that-writing-thing-you-reblogged-in-your. 

It’s a little bit of TimDami for your day ;)

But, I’m thinking like Red Robin just chilling out and taking down some awful alien bad guys hiding out on Earth with these two Barrilion detectives. The team is on a break for two weeks, so Red has found something to keep him occupied.

Barlot and Salsdan are good detectives. They’ve studied enough of Earth’s customs on their way chasing the gang of intergalactic baddies to get most of his terrible references. 

So, really. Score.

It’s even better when they finally track a shady link to the underground selling very advanced weaponry. His usual Whirlybirds are super effective and the small throwing discs Salsdan gave him before they made their way into the abandoned installation.

Since he would be a bad planetary host if the visitors got injured during an operation, he takes a few more hits than necessary to throw both of them out of the way one time or another. 

Still, it doesn’t take much more effort than a usual brawl between the team and H.I.V.E, so after the thugs are tied up and the aliens cuffed with special manacles, Red Robin is prepared to call it a good night.  

He ends up on their ship, patching himself up, talking to an ambassador on the wave comm to give his statement as “local law enforcement” (they don’t need to know differently), and rides to the Watch Tower with them to transfer the baddies to a holding cell and wait for a prison ship to swing by this sector.

Red Robin gives them a good-bye wave, and goes to the room he still has on the Watch Tower. One inside the Titan’s main set of rooms, a place he can get out of the suit and take a shower. 

He doesn’t expect the two detectives to be following him, and slip inside the main room with him until there are suddenly hands all over his body.

“This is lovely,” Barlot is at his throat, teeth moving over the tendon, drawing a gasp out of the pinned vigilante. “Perfect place for the first mating. Agree, partner?”

Salsdan moans in his mouth, eats his noises right down.

“Come, come, let him at least breathe. Stop being greedy!”

That shakes him out of being very pliant with the attention (it’s been a while, don’t judge, okay?), and the vigilante senses kick in automatically.

He flips over Barlot’s smaller figure, puts his back to the door, hands up for a possible strike. “What the utter fuck–”

“You saved our lives,” Salsdan blinks at him, hands up, “that’s the best courting gift I’ve ever got, even from this blort.”

“I gave your a perfectly acceptable gift!” Barlot snipes back, eyes all for the beautiful, intelligent Earthling he is fairly salivating to have.

“Stop. Right. There.” Red only straightens slightly, “I did not give anyone a courting gift. At. All.”

“Husband,” Barlot chances a step closer, his unusual eyes softly fond, “aiding us in our quest is absolutely a courting gesture. But saving us? Both of us? At great risk to yourself? What else could that be except proof you like us enough to be– um, to be…joined? Ah, no, something else? Um…”

Salsdan is beside him, subtly getting even closer to the shocked vigilante. “Married, Bar. It is termed differently in our language, but the premise is the same.” And the hand suddenly on his jaw is just slightly cooler, softer than a normal human hand, turning him to look in those eyes. “When you spilled blood for us, you claimed us as yours, Husband.”

“I’m sorry…I what now?”

He flinches a little, but Barlot has him by one wrist, both of them closing in, “now, we can either accept by completing the ritual with copious mating and make vows.”

Copious. Mating.

What the hell has he gotten himself into?!

“This is a huge misunderstanding,” he deadpan even though the hand working itself to the back of his neck is rubbing out the knots there. “I am way too young to get married, and I saved you because it would be totally shitty of me to let any visitors on my planet get killed by bad guys.”

With his free hand, he grips Salsdan’s wrist, stopping the motion. His other hand turns in Barlot’s, holding both aliens still. 

The two detectives exchange a glance, something that vaguely reminds him of how Nightwing and Hood exchange those couple-y looks. 

“We definitely misunderstood,” Barlot turns back to meet his whiteouts with a small smile. “Our apologies.”

“If you would be open to it, we would still enjoy mating with you?” Salsdan finishes hopefully. “Without the joining, I promise. But you are quite a lovely creature, Red Robin. Bar and I would very much enjoy taking you to bed.”

Well, this is better than expected.

“…Tim. I… My name is Tim.”

Both aliens step up into him again, taking the statement for what it was.

Permission.

This time he can fall back into their hands, peel away layers of the suit, and drunkenly walk them through the communal room to his own. His mouth and body are kept busy with their attention and his own exploration. 

The make soft clicking noises against him, longer, rougher tongues on the sensitive parts of his body, and it feels fucking amazing to be touched.

It’s even better to be bracketed in by two bodies in between rounds for the next 48 hours, to be bare and held in a tangle of limbs, for lazy kisses against the back of his neck, the soft nips, and lithe tongue sliding back in his mouth when he’s awake enough to moan. 

But he doesn’t feel terrible when the fun is ended with a wave from home world. The next case is coming up, so it’s time to go home. And their last time trying out his shower is the absolute best way to diplomatically say come back any time.

He sees them to their ship suited up and masked, hair still slightly wet from the shower.

They shake his hand with soft smiles and a promise to try coming back one day. He grins back without believing a word, gives best of luck on the next move in the fight against the baddies, and goes back to his regularly schedule crime fighting time.

It’s a few months later, maybe when Tim’s working something close with the Batfamily in Gotham when the Barrilions show up again, and greet him with a little too much PDA for Hood and N not to notice. 

(Who zzat fucker nuzzlin’ my Timmy?)(If I’m going to cause an intergalactic incident, it’s going to be tonight.)

“Whoa! Nice to see you guys too,” while Red is literally lightheaded with how hot his face is, “right in the middle of a case here. This is Nightwing and the Red Hood. My…colleagues.” 

He doesn’t even see it when both vigilantes whip right the hell around to give him intense stares from behind whiteouts.

“Oh! More Earth law enforcements!” Barlot keeps an arm around his waist, above the utility belt. “How nice to meet you. Did our almost-Husband tell you of our adventures here on your planet?”

Salsdan slides up on his other side, and Red Robin pauses when he really, really thinks about how the aliens are both taller than him, lean muscle with dark-hair, strong jawlines and Barlot has a blue stripe in the fluff of hair above his eyes while Salsadan moves like a dancer…

(Oh. Fuck.)

“Almost-Husband, Red? Wanna ‘splain that ta us?”“Your…friends need to follow planetary protocol for all aliens, Red Robin,” and Nightwing is standing with back straight and an impressive loom going on there. “They have to check-in with the JLA at the Watch Tower before coming on-world.”

“Oh! Our mistake,” Barlot flutters his eyes at them with a smirk, “perhaps Tim could come with us to check in so we will know proper procedure for next time.”

Which is absolutely a crock of shit.

And the Bats seem to pick-up on it, Hood taking him by the wrist, pulling him away in a move that is terribly possessive for someone he just, you know, fights crime with and shit. 

“Ya already been visiting, asshole,” is low with the synths, “n’ we gotta date with our boy here. Earth business, s’ do me a solid an’ fuck off.”

Which will probably end with Hood and N trailing Red Robin back to his Perch when the sun is riding the sky in Gotham. The whole almost married thing will come out and probably spurn some terribly sweet scene with Jason and Dick pinning him down and demanding he say he’s theirs, not some alien fuckers, Timmers. We gotcha first.

Totally had dibs, Timmy.  So. Much. Dibs.

And something utterly insane is going to pop out of his kiss-swollen mouth, something he’s wanted for so fucking long–

“Prove it.”

**

WOW. That ah…that got long huh babe?

[choisgirls]

Okay so let's pretend that the RFA were able to talk to their respective MC in a language besides Korean so they've been assuming for the longest time ever that MC can't speak Korean. One day, they come home and hear her singing a song creepily in Korean and once they find her she's just laughing her ass off. How would the RFA react? I'm sorry I just have a sudden urge to see someone write this if your requests aren't open feel free to disregard this~

A/N: I’m so sorry this took so long omfg ;A; But I hope I got what you were talking about??? ~Admin 404

*YOOSUNG:

               -Sinceyou didn’t start out speaking Korean in the chatroom, he just assumed youcouldn’t

               -OOOOOA FOREIGNER, YOOSUNG IS HYPED

               -Afterthe two of you got close, he came home early from his classes one day- notknowing you were in your shared home

               -He wasin the middle of changing, shirt halfway over his head, when he noticedsinging?

               -It wasa standard Korean lullaby, but it was being sung quiet and very slowly

               -HEACTUALLY GOT SO SCARED THAT HE GOT STUCK IN HIS SHIRT

  ��            -Triedto run out of the house, thinking it was a ghost, but ran into the wall-resulting in him falling on his ass

               -Youpull the shirt off his head, asking if he was alright

               -“MCWE GOTTA GET OUT OF HERE, THERE’S A GHOST!!!! A G H O S T!!!”

               -He’sup on his feet, trying to drag you out of the house yoosung what about yourshirt

               -“Aghost? What do you mean? What makes you say that?”

               -“Ijust heard someone sing this lullaby all slow and creepy and we just, WE GOTTAGO”

               -Superconfused when you bust out laughing

               -omgyou weren’t laughing at the fact he had no shirt on, were you???

               -“Thatwasn’t a ghost, I was singing!”

               -Onesecond, two seconds, three seconds…. ding! Light bulb!

               -“Youlearned a Korean lullaby? When did you do that?”

               -“Uh,years ago. When I learned Korean. Didn’t you know that?

               -whenyou fuckin’ WHAT

               -He iscompletely mindblown to find out you speak Korean??

               -Thoughnow he’s really embarrassed aboutjust assuming you didn’t know the language

               -Superhappy to talk in either language, it makes him feel cool tbh

               -iscompletely pissed off when he finds out you sent a video of him running intothe wall to saeyoung

*ZEN:

               -Healways asks for an extra copy of his scripts in *insert mc native languagehere* so you can practice with him!!

               -Younever understood why he did that, maybe he was just trying to be nice?

               -But healways did that with you? With everything?

               -AnyDVD’s, CD’s, absolutely anything he brings home is in your native language

               -Doeshe think you’re more comfortable that way?

               -Obviously,you appreciate it but it’s kind of like…..

               -There’sno need to go so out of his way to do all of that for you!

               -Oneday, you were taking a shower and decided to sing one of the songs from hismost recent play

               -Youlove Zen and love that he’s happy with his career but god daMN THAT SONG ISSTUCK IN YOUR HEAD AND YOU ARE BEYOND DONE WITH IT

               -So youmade fun of it by singing ridiculously, trying different voices, tones,anything you can think of

               -All ofa sudden, the bathroom door is thrown open, slamming against the wall

               -"MCIS THAT YOU?? ARE YOU SINGING LIKE THAT?? HAVE MY WORDS TOUCHED YOU SO DEEPLYTHAT YOU KNOW THEM BY HEART, DISPITE THEM BEING IN ANOTHER LANGUAGE?”

               -Youjust poke your head out of the shower to stare at him, watching as he starts totalk to himself about how beautiful his voice must for you to have learned itso quickly

               -“Doyou know the meaning??? I can give you a word by word translation!! Do you wantthat? DO YOU WANT ME TO DO THAT?”

               -“No?I mean, yeah… You play it all the time… because you’re learning it but Iknow the words on my own, thanks sweetheart”

               -You???Knew what the words meant??

               -Hejust kind of stares at you in disbelief before you roll your eyes and return totaking your shower

               -“Zen?Why are you still here? Go aw-” “YOU CAN SPEAK KOREAN”

               -Yousigh and agree that yes, you can speak Korean, and you’ve been able to thiswhole time

               -Hestarts crying??? What in the world???

               -“ICANNOT BELIEVE I DIDN’T KNOW THIS ABOUT MY LOVE! I’M A TERRIBLE MAN, DON’T LOOKAT ME, MC!” not looking at you anyway, zen, tryna shower here

               -“Savethe drama for your play later, sweetheart. It’s alright, I just never saidanything about knowing another language”

               -Literallyspent most of the rest of the day just pouting and feeling terrible that henever knew. You have to comfort him often because it was something neither ofyou ever really brought up way to go mc ya broke ya boyfriend

*JAEHEE:

               -Afterworking for Jumin for so long, she’s unfortunately learned to assume if youlook foreign, you might not speak other languages

               -Soshe’s already assumed you speak only your native language, so she automaticallyaccommodates to your needs

               -Thoughyou…. don’t need it??

               -Youfigured that she wanted to make things easier for you, which you appreciated,but you wanted to make things easy for her too!!

               -What’sfunny is that you’ve talked to her late at night, after she’s been up for days,in Korean so that it’s easier for her mind to process what you ask

               -Didshe pick up on it? Not at all. poor tired bby, someone help her

               -Sodespite the fact that you leave notes for her written in Korean, she just…hasn’t…. noticed?

               -Becauseshe still talks to you in your native tongue

               -Seriously,you’ve tried everything to make it blatantly obvious that you could speakKorean

               -Theeasiest way to tell her that, ‘hey, i don’t need you to translate convos forme, i promise’ is to just straight up tell her

               -Exceptyou didn’t get a chance to?

               -Youwere sweeping the house one day, belting out one of Zen’s songs from his latestmusical

               -Gettinginto it, you dance with the broom, dipping it dramatically

               -Duringyour dip though, you look up to find Jaehee standing in the doorway, at a lossfor words

               -“Oh…so.. you really do speak Korean.. I wasn’t going crazy, then”

               -SHELOOKED SO EMBARRASSED THAT YOU COULDN’T HELP BUT FEEL BAD

               -“I,um, I apologize for just assuming that you-”

               -Youcut her off when you pulled her into a quick dance around the living room,singing the previous song all over again

               -With aswift motion, you dipped her like you did the broom

               -Aquick peck to her lips sent her over the edge and she burst into giggles

               -“You’rea much better dance partner than the broom” you tell her in Korean, with awiggle of your eyebrows

               -Shepushes you away from her and laughs as she leaves the room, calling over hershoulder

               -“Maybeyou should learn a few more songs there, MC”

*JUMIN:

               -Alsoguilty of just assuming you only spoke your native language

               -Alsonever bothered to ask

               -Youdon’t even bother to tell him though because you’re lowkey salty about it

               -Like???He didn’t even ask???

               -Youlove him and all, but it’s been… how long? And he never even bothered to asKYOU IF YOU KNEW HIS LANGUAGE

               - damnmister trustfund kid

               -Butit’s actually really funny because he talks to Elizabeth in Korean

               -So hethinks you don’t know how much he’s praising her, or baby-talking her

               -ButyouKNOW

               -Andyou’re left wondering why he doesn’t talk to you like that sometimes

               - goddamn cat getting all the attention (kiDDING I LOVE U ELLY)

               -Butlet’s be honest, you love her just as much and do the same exact thing

               -Infact, you love to sing to her! And she loves it too!

               -Sheturns into a freaking motor box when you sing, she loves it soo much

               -So yousing to her every day, it makes her happy, makes you happy, everyone is happy

               -Oneday, you were singing to her, but Jumin actually came home early??

               -So heheard you singing too, and just sat down quietly next to you

               -Waitedpatiently until you finished the song before speaking

               -“So,you sing to Elizabeth?”

               -“Everyday, sweetheart! You just happened to catch the show”

               -Immediatelythought about asking Saeyoung to install some hidden microphone or something tocapture you singing every day

               - thatisnt creepy at all, dude

               -With aslight tilt of his head, he looked at you, eyes full of question

               -Youhad to fight the urge to kiss his cute little face, but it was worth it

               -“So,MC? You can speak Korean? Not just *insert native language here*?”

               -Younodded in agreement, looking down at Elly, petting her with a smile on yourface

               -“I’veknown this whole time… *pulls Elly up to face* But SOMEBODY *kisses Elly’snose* Never bothered asking. Did he? No, no he didn’t! He didn’t, did heElizabeth??”

               -Youshot him a side glare, watching as his face twisted into slight embarrassmentand back to a playful one before getting up to leave the room

               -“It’sokay, MC. I’ll test out how well you can pronounce those Korean words latertonight.”

*SAEYOUNG:

               -HeloVED your aCCENT

               -So hespoke to you in your native language just so he could hear it

               -Did heknow you could speak Korean?

               -Yeahprobably

               -DID HECARE? I’m hearing “no”

               -Did heremember, a long time later, that you could speak Korean?

               -Again,I am going with no

               -He’salways thinking about god knows what all the damn time so it isn’t surprisingthat he forgot you spoke Korean all together

               -Infact, you were hoping he did forget you spoke Korean, or your new plan wouldn’twork out how you wanted it to

               -Yousee, you and Saeyoung like to prank each other like crazy, but his last onereally irked you

               -(Imean come on??? Who in the world thinks it’s funny to sneak a permanent markerinto your pants pocket when you do laundry??? That rUINS YOUR CLOTHES)

               -So,you decided that revenge was in order, and you wanted nothing more than to scarehim to death

               -Aftera long set up with a creepy life-size doll trapped to an rc car, a couple ofspeakers hidden, and a ton of hidden cameras, you were ready for him to comehome

               -Whenhe got into the room and noticed the girl standing in the corner, heimmediately noped the hell out and tried leaving

               -Butyou locked the door! There is no escaping sweet revenge!

               -Youstarted to sing little kids nursery rhymes through a microphone, it comingthrough the hidden speakers broken and ominous

               -“noPE!NOPE NOPE NOPE. WHAT THE HELL IS THIS, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU? I KNOW HOW TOFIGHT LITTLE GIRL, I’M NOT AFRAID TO KICK YOU IN THE FACE”

               -So youkept singing, stopping only to ask him to come play, in child-like voice

               -“NOI DON’T WANNA PLAY, JESUS CHRIST, SOMEONE LET ME OUT”

               -Youdecided to chase him around with the doll, using the wireless controller fromthe other room

               -Youdidn’t know he could scream in such a high pitch, I swear to god, dogs fromaround the world could hear it

               -He wasgetting out of that room, then and there. He broke down the door. Ran down thehallway and heard you laughing from another room

               -Hedidn’t even think about why you were laughing, he just jumped onto your lap,and latched onto you, hugging tight and burying his face against you

               -“MC!THERE’S A CREEPY DEMON CHILD IN THE OTHER ROOM IT’S CHASING ME, MC PLEASEPROTECT ME”

               -Butyou couldn’t even reply- you were laughing too hard. He looked around and sawyour set up of monitors, wireless controller, and microphone

               -Helooked up at you with a ton of mixed emotions

               -Firstof all he was still a little freaked out?? But he was also kinda pissed offthat you scared the hell out of him! But he’s also in awe that you set all thisup… and so in love with how hard you’re laughing…

               -HEDOESN’T KNOW WHAT TO F E E L

               -Takesa second to think about the situation and suddenly remembers

               -“Wait…you can speak Korean… I TOTALLY FORGOT YOU COULD DO THAT? WHAT THE HELL MC, ITHOUGHT YOU WERE SOME CREEPY LITTLE GIRL”

               -Yougive him an innocent smile, but based on the look he gave you once he stood upand walked away

               -He wasprobably going to use that fact against you for his revenge prank, and youweren’t positive you wanted to know what that was going to be

 *V:

               -Offthe bat, he asks which language you’re more comfortable speaking in

               -Whenyou said your own native language, he understood, and tried his best to accommodatefor you!

               -Eversince then he’s always making sure he can translate things for you, whether itbe signs or casual conversation

               -Youknew Korean but didn’t know if you were a strong enough speaker, which is whyyou initially told him you were comfortable with your first language

               -So,you secretly were testing out your language skills every time the two of youwent out!

               -Whenhe translated for you and you had gotten it right in your head, you were soexcited!

               -But hedidn’t know that ’s what you were doing??

               -Hejust always saw you light up and smile softly to yourself and it made him weAK

               -Was itbecause he was translating for you??

               -Didn’tknow exactly, but was definitely going to keep doing whatever he was doingbecause that loOK

               -IT WASSOOO PRECIOUS

               -But hefelt bad that he couldn’t go shopping with you one day because he had somepeople he had to see

               -Whatif you couldn’t read the signs?? What if you couldn’t talk to the people?? WhAtIf-

               -So he triedto make his meetings go as quickly as possible without being rude

               -And heran to meet you at your favourite coffee shop, where he knew you’d stop first!

               -As hewalked up behind you, getting ready to surprise you and order for you, he tooka step back when he heard you ordering perfectly fine in Korean

               -Youeven made small talk with the barista! In perfect Korean!

               -Whenyou turned around with your coffee, he stared at you in surprise, but he scaredthe shit out of you! You almost dropped your coffee!

               -“V!Hey! You scared me…. I thought you had to go meet a few people? Did somethinghappen? Are you alright?”

               -Youasked. In perfect Korean. Why did you doubt your language skills??

               -“Ithought you only knew *your native language of choice*? So I haven’t needed totranslate for you this whole time?”

               -Youcould see the disappointment in his eyes as you quickly shook your head (andhands) in embarrassment

               -“Nono no no, you asked me in the beginning if I was more comfortable with mynative language, which I am! I know Korean but I was afraid about gettingsomething wrong, so I really appreciated all of your translations! They help memake sure I’m learning and getting it all right!”

               -Explainingit to him was definitely the smart move because you watched as he went from sadpuppy to ecstatic pup knowing that he was able to help you learn new things andsolidify what you already knew!

               -Fromthen on, he always tries to let you figure it out first, then help you if youneed it!

               -Was heembarrassed that he always translated when you didn’t need it? Yes

               -Did heget over it quickly? Also yes. He’s a precious tol bean. He is alright withthis revelation.

*SAERAN:

               -Alsoknew from the start that you knew Korean

               -Hetalked to you from the beginning in Korean so he knew afterwards that you’dknow

               -Notlike you all of a sudden lost your knowledge on a full language….right?

               -Thatbeing said he just plain refuses to let you pretend like you can’t speak himlanguage

               -Everytime you try to talk to him in your native language he just kind of looks atyou with absolutely no emotion

               -“Hi,MC, speak in a language I know please, thanks”

               -Likeseriously

               -Thisman does not let you have any fun with it at all

               -Youeven tried to fake some sort of amnesia, too

               -To like,pretend you forgot how to speak Korean so he’d have to talk to you in yournative language

               -Did itwork? No

               -Hejust stared at you like you were stupid

               -He’ssuch a jERK

               -WHYCAN’T YOU JUST PLAY ALONG, SAERAN. JUST GIVE ME THIS ONE THING

               -Youeven try to mess with him in public

               -Youask him to order some food for you, asking him in your native language

               -Thecashier is confused but Saeran just stares at you

               -Hecompletely understands what you say, despite pretending that he doesn’t

               -Turnsback to the cashier and tells them that you’re getting nothing

               -WAITSAERAN PLEASE I WANT FOOD TOO

               -Untilthe day he slips up and responds to a question you ask him in your language

               -Youcelebrate, including a victory dance

               -Hejust curses at himself for messing up and letting you win

               -Thoughhe does think it’s really cute that you’re thisexcited about winning

               -Maybehe should let you win more often thAT WONT HAPPEN