#Also real glad I added the silhouette person in there

[onehundredfallenpetals]

A change of trains, an unexpected companion on the way home

[lemon-plort]

[ FFVII Demo thoughts below :) ]

Dumping all my first impressions here now that I've sat on it for a bit

PROS

This is probably going to be a bit of a mess bc there's just so much I love about this franchise...

Starting off obvious, the music oh my god. Nobuo Uematsu smashed it out but that was to be expected.

I absolutely adore how they explored Cloud's recollection of events from his pov!! Zack's mannerisms and personality showing through while the real Cloud stayed in the background and kept mostly silent (especially around Tifa). It was cool to see, and I think they did a great job blending cloud's perspective with what actually happened. It felt believable that Cloud could recall everything the way he did and seeing how his mind mended or flat out ignored the gaps and inconsistencies was perfect.

Speaking of, the method they chose to retell it. I'm so glad they opted for more of a story around a campfire kind of approach than just showing us through flashbacks. The added dialogue from Barret, Tifa and Aerith was the cherry on top.

Loved the choice system

I've seen others mention it too but how they aren't afraid to keep things a little silly :)) Cloud stuffing his mouth with those sandwiches, butchering Tifa's theme on the piano and stretching with the exercise class were great little moments and I can't wait to see more.

Sephiroth. He honestly deserves multiple bullet points. I LOVE how we got to see more of his personality pre-nibelheim disaster. His banter and expressions were such a welcome addition since I feel they never expanded on it nearly enough in crisis core! He looked genuinely upset after losing the other Shinra trooper and the amount of expression purely in his eyes during and just before the disaster- *chefs kiss*

The small details around the environment, I spent a good chunk of the time just getting in the camera mode and zooming into all the pictures Tifa had around her room or the posters in the general store and inn.

How realistic the physics were for those mako purifiers?? It made me feel like I was back hauling around road cases

Screw it he is getting more points. I need to mention his hair and boots. I couldn't stop looking at them, they were so nicely rendered...

Expanding on that everything was tbh. The fabric of Cloud's pants looks so so soft (they were looking a bit rough in remake) and all the detailing on the buster sword and metal like Tifa's gloves. I could spend hours just zooming into every little detail and texture.

I also think they nailed Cloud and Tifa's models. They both clearly look like themselves even though they're younger which I feel some games struggle with.

More Sephiroth points soz- his model was just so accurate. There were shots where his silhouette literally looked like his original art, it was so satisfying to see.

The use of the L2 R2 buttons. Idk the proper name for the feature but when they make it physically harder to press. I feel they used it sparingly which made it more effective. That scene especially with Cloud crawling towards Sephiroth...oh my god chills. It gave me the same sense of immersion like the end of Crisis Core during Zack's final stand.

More on the immersion. How they differentiated between Sephiroth and "Cloud's" skill levels by allowing Sephiroth to cast the higher level spells from the get go.

Combo moves!! One of my favourite features in FFXV so to see it translated here was great

Just going to make a general point for the atmosphere, environment, voice acting, enemy design etc. bc otherwise I'll be here forever.

Though the scene with Sephiroth cutting down all the tubes has to get a special mention. The pure disdain in his voice towards Hojo was done super well.

CONS

Some of these might be a little nitpicky since I really don't have much to complain about

I found some of the dialogue to be a little clunky at times, like the characters weren't given enough time to say their line before the camera changes. This is probably just a translation issue though and really doesn't bother me that much

Not the biggest fan of the white interface for your spells n shit. It feels like it sticks out a lot more than the blue and not in a good way.

I think I just generally prefer remakes UI (except the pause screen, I enjoy getting to see their models rather than the still images we had before)

Moving around the map is a bit clunkier than I would've hoped. The inside areas were better but outside felt choppy at times.

the storage space....

MISC.

I find it generally funny how they completely skipped over any mention of gackt Genesis. Like it makes sense but as someone with no real hatred towards him like a lot of fans have, it came across like square enix was shoving him in a box and hoping no one brings it up lolol

surprised to see we're getting a demo update too, the Junon demo? curious to see what they'll cover in that

Overall though I'm absolutely buzzing. February 29th can't get here soon enough :)))

[skirm-portfolio]

DATE: MAR. 21 2022

expand for details 

Interestingly, this was inspired by a drawing done Jan 21 2021, which was very popular but kind of a mess to look at (pictured below)

While I think the piece is very charming on its own, I’m glad I reworked it and added more contrast (thermo below)

For me, my eyes are drawn to the brightest parts of the image and the places with the highest amount of contrast first, which is NOT the characters’ faces in this particular piece.

In pink, you can see the places where I got bored of the piece and just started randomly doodling. I recall not even sketching out the background at first and simply inking it as-is.

The laziness in the clothing is also palpable, especially on Novak (right) where I didn’t bother to add consistent folds or detail. 

In green, I outlined the ears because I wanted to point out a running issue in my work for years now. Generally I believe in strong silhouettes in my characters, but back then I preferred to only mix the heads up (my anatomy was not the best, and I was afraid to try more stylistic approaches. This issue is still felt in the newer piece.). I opted to give the characters MUCH larger ears than necessary, this way you could pick out a defining feature of the character and it was much easier to refer to them. Because I was more focused on building an audience than my actual skill, it was more important to have distinguishing characters who had pretty and digestible colouring and an eye catching style. My style at this time certainly WAS different, but because of my lack of skill in character differentiation instead of real personality in the style itself. This also affected my distaste for real anatomy or anything adjacent, as seen with my genuine lack of planning highlighted in blue. I know for a fact I just didn’t try very hard in the inking of this piece at all.

Again, thermo of the piece. (Unsure what this is actually called. It just looks like thermovision.)

I actually planned this out in the thumbnail (which was accidentally deleted in a Onedrive incident.), I intended to balance the lighting with detail on the main focus of the drawing so that not only would they be the first one you look at, but that you also wouldn’t miss the other character. 

My biggest gripe here is the loose grip on anatomy and foreshortening, and the lack of definition on the smoke. In green you can see the outline around where the smoke was supposed to be, which isn’t really conveyed in the piece. 

[die-rosastrasse]

hey no pressure to answrr and idk if uve talked abt it before but I rly love what I've seen of your fashion style/your overall style. Can I ask if you have any tips for how you, kind of... curate your wardrobe and figure out what you need to create your looks? Like if you focus on sticking to a colour palette or certain silhouettes or? sorry again no pressure

Hi! Thank you very much, I'm glad you like my fashion sense! 💕 I would love to help you with some tips, although I don't want to force my personal style on anybody with my answers - please use them as a general guidance!

• Yes, it is important to me to stick to a silhouette and color palette when I'm looking for new clothes. Firstly, you need to know what kind of look you're going for and what colors you feel the best in. I'm very naturally drawn to burgundy, white, black and jewel tones, so I always check them first when I'm thrifting. You can also find a specific pattern for your looks - I love checkered skirts and floral dresses the most.

• As for the silhouette, my general 'vintage' look is a shirt or a blouse with covered arms, and a skirt that is tight in the waist and long enough to cover the knees. The pictures below show some variations of that look. I pretty much always stick to it because I find it to be the most comfortable and flattering. If you're going for a different look, try to experiment with silhouettes and see what looks best on you! For example, 20's had a completely different shape, but it's still very retro!

• To find your personal look, I recommend looking through a lot of inspiration pictures and references. I like the looks of 30's, 40's and 50's, so I follow blogs with Old Hollywood stars, watch movies from that era and save my favorite looks. A pinterest board or a special folder for all the inspiration should help a lot! After analysing many sources, you'll find items that fit this style a lot easier and you'll know how to style them.

• Find 'basics' for your wardrobe, a perfect item that will fit many styles and aesthetics. For me it's a simple white shirt, and a black skirt (midi lenght, tight in the waist). Plus simple cardigans, jackets and thights in different colors. You can make many outfits with a simple base like that and it will always look good.

• Accessories! I have so many pearls and pearl jewelry, and they don't have to be real to look good, so it's not a big purchase! I really recommend pearls, came jewelry, brooches, and gems to spice up the look. I also have a collection of thrifted scarves and cloths that I wear in my hair or on my head, and vintage leather bags that I take everywhere. I don't know a lot about shoes, but I wear oxfords / saddle shoes or mary janes.

• Even thought I don't always have the energy to set my hair in pin curls, I want to highlight that hair is really important to achieve a vintage look, and there are many ways to style them and add simple accessories to make them look polished. My personal favorite touches are adding lace, ribbons and flowers to the hairstyle, or tie them with a cute scarf.

[thefanficmonster]

Few Too Many

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing, In-game violence and death, Suggestive comments

Genre: Protective fluff, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Jealousy is a dangerous thing, especially when the jealous person is armed with a gun....in a game of Counter Strike. At least Y/N’s friend will now know not to mess around and flirt with her, especially not with Corpse around.

Requested by 🐐 Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your request! Sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post your request but here it finally is! I didn’t want to make it IRL violence to avoid triggering anyone while I also felt it’d be very ooc for Corpse to beat someone up but I still hope you enjoy the fic if you come across it and read it! Love, Vy ❤

“Hey everyone!“ Y/N greets her squad as they all customize their characters while I sit there, observing and unknowing of what I’m supposed to do. “I invited Corpse to play with us today, hope y’all don’t mind.”

“Of course not! Nice to finally meet you, Corpse. We’ve heard a ton about you from Y/N, thanks for making our girl the happiest she’s ever been.“ One of her friends says, the tone of his voice suggesting he’s only half-joking with the dad like comment he made.

“Nice to meet you too, man. Glad I’m the one she gave the chance of making her happy. That’s all I ever wanna do.“ Though it may sound cheesy, as guys, her friends can probably read into how genuinely I mean what I’ve said.

Dating a girl with only guy friends has it’s pros and cons. Which outweigh which is still up for debate since I’m still researching, but so far so good in my opinion. This is the first time I’m interacting with them directly so I’ve still got a long way to go in terms of getting to know them and the details of their relationship with Y/N better. Regardless, I at least know they can easily understand me and put themselves in my shoes if I ever ‘mess things up’ with Y/N and she goes to complain to them - something that will most likely never happen. I’d never dare make this girl upset. Chances are, if I do, her friends won’t get to me on time - I would deliver my own punishment just the way I think I deserve it. However, there’s also the chance of them getting super protective of her and ganging up on me over something as small as a fight. By the many things and stories Y/N’s shared with me about them, I believe they wouldn’t think twice about kicking someone’s ass for her. They’re not massive dudes - I’ve seen pictures of them - but I for one don’t ever wanna see em angry.

“Ay bro, what’d you do to score our best girl? You must know what she likes. If so please, by all means, do tell.“ One of them, not the one who was previously talking, speaks up, his words making me furrow my brows in both confusion and irritation.

I open my mouth to complain as I slowly start cracking my knuckles when Y/N and her friends beat me to it. Thing is, Y/N’s friend group consists of three guys and her and yet four voices scolded the guy that made that suggestive comment. That being said, this guy probably isn’t considered to be one of her friends, at least not one that’s a permanent part of her friend group.

“Seth, cut it out!“ The guy I was previously speaking to says sharply before softening his tone to refer to me, “Sorry about my brother, excuse his lack of brain cells, please.“

Just then, I also receive a message from someone. Checking my phone, turns out it’s Y/N who by the way is currently in the living room while I’m in the recording room. Her text reads:

Y/N ~ Ignore Seth. I told Leo to not invite him but he’s still here somehow

I send her back a quick reassuring text before answering the guy I now know is named Leo, “No worries, it’s fine.”

“See? The guy can take a joke, you’re all just freaking out over nothing!“ Seth laughs, reminding me and the others of how loud he is compared to us.

Despite acting like it’s no big deal, I can’t help but admit to myself that this behavior of Seth’s has awoken a deeply buried suspicion of mine that’s not only mine but also arises in every guy whose girlfriend hangs out with a lot of guys. It’s not that I don’t trust Y/N - she could literally blindfold me and tell me to walk through a pool of lava, promising it wouldn’t hurt and I’d do it - but we all know about that saying that every guy in a group with one girl has liked said girl at least once.

Disturbing to think these four, including Seth five, dudes could’ve possibly been my competition at some point. It’s nice that they’re all super chill about it, mostly cause some of them have girlfriends as I was told.

Nevertheless, we get over that hiccup and carry on with the small talk and preparations for the game. Since it’s my first time playing CSGO, Y/N, Leo and her other friend Clancy explain the mechanics to me in detail to avoid me getting confused mid-game and getting myself killed. When they finish, we start the round and wait for the game’s algorithm to separate us into two teams which Y/N jokingly refers to as cops and robbers. Unfortunately, the end result of that separation ends up being me getting put in the terrorists’ force with Leo and Clancy while Y/N’s with the FBI, partnered with Seth and her other friend Evan.

“Alright, team, we shall now disperse. Corpse, remember, if you see more than one of them, radio in and lay low, we’ll be with you as soon as possible.“ Leo informs me as he runs off in one direction, Clancy going in the opposite. I confirm I understand and go along my way too, heading for this ancient looking structure that looks like it could belong in an old-timey movie. 

Walking in, I realize the place is way bigger than it appeared on the outside. A quick look up confirms that there are three fucking floors above, not to mention that the ground floor is huge. Luckily, there are many crates and barrels to hide behind if I come across an FBI agent. I sure as hell hope it’s Y/N, I could maybe even try talking her into giving me a second chance at life and pretend she never saw me. Come to think of it though, I’d probably prefer getting killed by her rather than her friends - especially Seth.

Given that we’re in a Discord call, I can hear all the conversation going on. They are all quiet though, I can just periodically hear the mumbles of someone muttering to themselves as they navigate the map cautiously out of fear of running into their opponent unprepared. The silence is put to an end though when Seth speaks up, addressing Y/N.

“Yo, your boyfriend’s with the terrorists, ain’t he? That’s like the universe giving you a sign that y’all shouldn’t be together.“ The fucker laughs at his own joke while I can literally hear Y/N rolling her eyes.

“Have you heard of Romeo and Juliet, Seth?“ She asks sarcastically, almost getting a chuckle out of me but I suppress it to avoid getting caught listening in.

“Yeah, they both die at the end. Fucking boooriiinngg.“ Just then, I spot two silhouettes entering the building. Aiming my gun at them reveals their names - just the people I’m currently involuntarily eavesdropping on. Seth and Y/N don’t notice me though so I quickly duck behind a crate and prepare to radio in when Seth continues verbally torturing Y/N and dancing on my last nerves, “I personally think the friends-to-lovers trope is far more interesting...“

Did this guy just- no, he’s gotta be fucking kidding me

I’m left with my jaw hanging in disbelief at this guy’s audacity. I have no doubt Y/N’s about to put him in his place herself but I just gotta have my own chat with this guy. And by ‘chat’ I mean I mindlessly rush out from behind the crate towards where I saw him and Y/N and open fire on him.  I hear his startled and upset screams with Y/N’s laughter in the background. She doesn’t try to stop me as a teammate of his should and would, instead she just observes the scene unfold, laughing her ass off.

“Yo man what the fuck was that for?!“ I hear Seth’s yell but only faintly since the sound of gunshots is still echoing through my headphones. Yeah, I’m not done shooting this fucker.

“Corpse...Corpse, buddy...“ Y/N manages through fits of laughter she cannot tame, “That’s a few too many bullets, he’s already dead.”

“And that was a few too many comments for him to be let off the hook.” I answer as sharply as I can with the new-formed smile on my face. What can I say, her happiness is contagious.

“Well, you got your first kill in CSGO. Good job, babe! I’m super proud of you!” She cheers for me, clapping her hands excitedly. 

“Nah that was my first overkill.“ I quickly add, with a more threatening tone: “And it won’t be my last.”

“Let’s just hope there aren’t few too many of these overkills either.“ She snickers.

“That doesn’t depend on me, babe.“ I say smugly, suggestively enough for Seth to pick up the dropped hint. Mother fucker’s officially been put in his place and I couldn’t possibly be happier - with the added bonus of getting a ton of laughter out of Y/N who also decides to walk away, leaving me unharmed but promising to shoot to kill next time she sees me.

I’m ok with that. She could kill me anyday.

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[lokiskitten]

Loki Laufeyson | Valentine’s Day pt2

Loki Laufeyson X fem!reader

people who wanted to be tagged : @wolfish-trickster @sheris532 @meeksmusic83 @thegirlthatsfalling @peachybaes

plot : ( refer to first part, but not necessarily needed ). After discovering about Loki’s intentions, you follow him up until his room and find the courage to knock on his door. You therefore get the chance to discover about a part of him you didn’t know existed.

warnings : crying, none graphic mention of self-harm, mention of blood.

Hearing that someone was knocking on his door, Loki’s eyes looked up from his hands, tears colliding with the fresh air as he looked towards the entrance of his bedroom. Red marks adorned his left cheeks due to his loss of temper, as Loki had scratched his own skin with the help of his nails. A little bit of blood exited the injury, though the demigod worried more about anyone seeing him cry than someone seeing him injured. Therefore, he took care of wiping his tears away before allowing you to come in with the help of two simple words.

Shyly, you pushed the door of his bedroom open before stepping in, eyes immediately landing onto Loki’s frame which was sat onto the bed. And even if you remained calm at first, your organism immediately tensed up as soon as you noticed the marks of red onto the pale man’s cheek. “Oh my god! Are you okay?” You questioned anxiously, rushing towards the bed and sitting down beside the injured boy before grabbing a small piece of your dress and bringing it up to his molested skin. Loki didn’t moved, and through shame and guilt allowed you to take care of his injury. The truth was he felt immobilized face to your beauty, and absolutely intimidated of course.

Your heart was dying for you to ask him about the letter, however you felt like slowly dipping the disturbed god into the heart of subject. Therefore, referring to the state he was in felt like the best option you had at the moment. “What happened? Did you do this to yourself?..” you questioned sadly, gently patting his cheek as you desperately tried to make eye contact whilst Loki ran away from it. Though, from what you were able to see, he was possessed by sorrow. Eventually, after a couple of seconds had passed, the demigod finally agreed to speak. “Yes.” He responded shamefully, the word barely escaping his lips as he Adam’s apple gobbled up and down.

A sigh escaped your nostrils as you rested your hands down onto your lap, both of you now sitting next to one another as silence was soon to take over the bedroom. You couldn’t help but feel guilty, suddenly remembering that his condition was in fact your fault. Or at least, you thought so. “I.. I took the initiative to pick up your note. But I didn’t read it.” You revealed, shaky hand handing Loki the folded piece of paper. His green orbs diverted towards the note, lips pressing together as he took ahold of the paper which in fact contained a poem.

“I didn’t want to read it until you decided to give it to me yourself.” You added respectfully with a small smile, hoping that this detail would help him feel a tad better. Unfortunately, Loki kept it folded against his lap, sigh escaping his lips in a rather exhausted manner. “It’s.. it’s a poem.” Loki informed, trying his best to keep his brother out of the conversation even though he was secretly dying to ask you about him. A gentle blush spread over your cheeks, feeling rather flattered to hear that he had bothered to take out of his time in order to write you such a beautiful thing that was a poem.

“A poem? Let me hear it. Your voice is beautiful.” You insisted energetically, sitting up a little better as your body twisted towards Loki’s. For the first time since you had walked in, the demigod allowed himself to make eye contact with you, green orbs penetrating into your innocent ones. He was now the one to blush, clearing his throat as he took ahold of the piece of paper and gently unfolded it. Meanwhile, your eager self desperately waited for Loki to finally read his own words out loud for your ears to enjoy.

“In this room filled with darkness,

I am desperately trying to find a source of light.

And whenever bad thoughts take over,

I think of you and it all feels right.”

Loki spoke, harmonious voice resonating in your ears like the sweetest melody. You felt touched by his poem, truly, especially as you could tell that it was something which seemed to matter lots to his sensitive self. Now, that was something you believed Thor would never be able to accomplish. “It’s.. beautiful.” You confirmed, locking eyes with Loki again as a smile finally showed onto his face. You were glad to see him grin.

Believing that this gesture deserved a reward, your body leant towards his before you decided to lay a kiss onto his bruised cheek, causing Loki’s smile to progressively fade away as his respiration slowed down. He seemed surprised, nearly shocked, to be the lucky receiver of such a delicate gesture. “Thank you.” You added, your own self blushing as it was the first time you ever made real physical contact with someone part of the opposite sex. Loki’s lips parted, tongue nervously moistening them up before he allowed his mouth to close again.

For Loki, it also turned out to be the first time he ever received a kiss from a woman other than his mother. Of course, his natural biological self craved for more, but the demigod’s manner tried their best to keep control of Loki’s being for now as he didn’t want to ruin it all. “Make me dance.” You suddenly cheered, standing up from the bed as Loki’s eyes widened. The poor boy unfortunately didn’t know how to dance. “Umh.. I.. I..” he stuttered, looking to every single spot of his room but your silhouette. An amused smirked appeared onto your lips as you moved towards Loki’s personal music player. “Don’t know how to dance? I’ll teach you.”

Once the music started playing, your body turned around and you quickly reached for Loki’s hand, pulling him up before bringing him in the middle of the room. He continued to seem as awkward as he originally was, holding his hands close to your body without touching your silhouette. “You place your hand here..” you explained, grabbing his wrist and positioning his left hand onto your waist. “And the other one, right here.” You finished happily, moving his other hand onto your shoulder. Loki gained a little more confidence as soon as you had showed him the way, and even managed to make proper eye contact with you. In fact, he seemed proud to have accomplished such a thing.

Music played as you led the young man around, both of you swinging delicately whilst standing close to each other. It didn’t take long for Loki to feel comfortable enough to lead the dance, now guiding both of your steps around the bedroom. You heart easily started to flutter, eyes starring straight into Loki’s green ones as he returned the gesture. And without you knowing it, the couple you formed became a real dyad within the aura of Asgard. Slowly, and as cautiously as possible, both of your faces started to near each other’s, ready to give on another an innocent kiss.

Unexpectedly, the disc which played on the record suddenly stopped, causing both of you to be pulled out of this amazing moment you were about to share. Nervously licking your lips, you move away from Loki with an awkward chuckle, making sure to stop the record as Loki nervously eyed your silhouette. “This was very nice.” You notified, insisting on breaking the awkward silence which had easily taken over the ambiance as soon as the music had stopped.

“You are wonderful.” The young man answered, joining his hands behind his back in a respectful manner. A blush spread over your face, smile forming onto your lips as you turned around to face him. However, you two were once again interrupted by the sound of someone knocking onto the door.

[ 2/4 ]

As promised! Part three will be up soon, hopefully. Let me know if you guys want a tag ;)

[minachuuu]

Itzy Reaction to their S/O being Covered in Tattoos

This was my first request for an Itzy reaction and I was so excited because I love those girls so much, I hope you enjoy it!💜✨

Yeji

There was something about you that didn't let her eyes leave your silhouette, sitting across her, all the way at the opposite side of the cafe. Dressed entirely in black, a leather jacket draping around you brought in the exact pinch of mystery that called Yeji's attention. 

But just exactly as she was taking a sip of her iced tea, you had the fantastic idea of taking the leather jacket off, revealing your arms and neckline to be covered with various tattoos, your black shirt hiding so much more. Let's say that Yeji's body forgot how to deal with liquids at that moment, spraying everything over Ryujin, Lia and herself, making the few people around turn around to face them, including you. If she was nervous to talk to you before, now the nerves had doubled adding embarrassment to the mix. 

Standing up to the bathroom to clean herself, Yeji didn't notice you entering a few seconds behind her. She jumped startled when she recognized you, but you approached her with a smile. 

"Ah bummer, your shirt isn't going to dry quickly," You pointed at the obvious, your voice trembling.  You extended your hand, offering her your leather jacket. "Here, use this." 

She nodded, shyly taking the jacket from you. She agreed if you allowed her to buy you a pastry and you accepted with a chuckle. Both of you also found the perfect excuse to ask for your phone numbers. You know, only to return your jacket later. 

Add time to the mixture, and Yeji still doesn't understand exactly how one of the most embarrassing moments in her life brought the most amazing person into her life. 

Now, in the private comfort of your nights together, sometimes when you take your shirt off, she'll embrace you from behind, losing herself watching all the amazing illustrations engraved in your skin, gently caressing her fingers through them. 

Lia

By Chaeryeong's recommendation, this was finally the day that Jisu decided to go and take a walk in the park. But her stroll was interrupted when she heard the soft sound of a guitar playing close to her. She followed the music and directed her to you, who was peacefully sitting on a park bench, playing with chords and strumming patterns. But what caught her attention even more, was the sun lighting up such a variety of colors and pictures all painted across what she was able to see from your body. 

Even if you looked kind of hard to approach, you still awaked a fair amount of interest in Jisu, so she breathed in enough courage to talk to you, approaching slowly. 

"That sounds beautiful!" She tucked one strand of hair in her ear as she fidgeted with her hands. Her eyes tenderly scanning every drawing all over your body, prompted your cheeks to turn bright red. "Is it your song?" 

"Thank you!" You smiled, suddenly awakening something new in Jisu's heart. "It is mine, but I still can't get the lyrics right."

Bingo. She latched from that to make a conversation, offering herself to help you write. You couldn't help but notice how she couldn't stop looking at your tattoos, sometimes completely ignoring what you were saying. A great friendship sparked between you two from that moment on, but day by day, Jisu couldn't keep ignoring the butterflies in her stomach everytime she lost herself in the colorful collage that was your skin. 

So now that you two finally stopped ignoring your feelings towards each other and started dating, don't be surprised if she begs you to use more sleeveless shirts, crop tops, or tries to keep you from putting a shirt on as much as she can when you're alone. Jisu can’t help it, she just finds you a walking work of art, one that makes her go *keyboard smash* all the time. 

Ryujin

Ryujin doesn't really like to be told what to do, so she wasn't really amused by the idea of having someone unknown review her own choreography. But then you walked through the door, and she couldn't understand exactly how to feel about it. Your dark makeup and clothing, covered in tons of tattoos made her heart do flips in all directions, and she couldn't settle on feeling afraid, excited, intimidated or amazed. 

All this confusion made the usually confident and witty Ryujin all flustered as she couldn't even focus on the notes that you gave to her because her eyes refused to leave the illustrations engraved in your body. She only nodded at all your words, convincing herself that it was just fear what you aroused inside of her. 

But she was quickly proved wrong by her own thoughts, as you didn't seem to leave her mind at all; your eyes, your lips, the way your body moved, and especially, every drawing that was painted across your skin.

The next day, Ryujin opened the door and her eyes landed on you, calling all those feelings back in her. You glanced at her reflection through the mirror, smiling at her dumbfounded expression. 

"Oh hey Ryujin! I'm glad you could make it." You turned around, grabbing a little paper bag and handling it to her. "I bought some cookies and a coffee for you, hope you like them!" 

Right there, she melted on the inside. The cute gesture helped get her confidence back, making this rehearsal a blatant back and forth of pure flirting. 

It all grew up to become an amazing relationship, were one of your hobbies is to combine Ryujin's audacious attitude and your threatening appearance to prank people (Mostly Ryujin's groupmates, who are we kidding), but behind closed doors, no one could imagine that the most intimidating couple was all lovey-dovey with each other. 

Chaeryeong 

Look, Chaeryeong isn't one to judge people based on their appearance. She didn't mind that you were covered in tattoos at all, but how can she help it when you're known as the stone cold, intimidating, serious and bossy member of your group? And most of all, how was she supposed to breath now that you were standing right in the same practice room as her? Could you two be friends? Would you like her? Maybe find her cute? But what if you weren't her type? 

Your group and Itzy were collabing for a special stage at a music award show and she couldn't stop staring at you through the mirror, your stoic expression as you reviewed the steps of the choreography. She found her eyes straying to the rest of your body over and over again, tracing your tattoos in her mind, wondering how it felt to touch them. 

The rehearsal came to a break and you dropped over the couch, your members surrounding you. Chaeryeong kept staring from the other side of the room, but was a bit taken aback when, amid conversation, you let out the most gentle chuckle she had ever seen. In general, it was the first time she had ever seen you smile. Impressed by how your amiable aura wasn't going down either, she convinced Ryujin to help her approach you. 

Turns out, your stoic personality was mostly just a concept that you acted for the cameras, but the softer, more real side of you was what cemented her crush over you, especially contrasted with your threatening, and frankly quite attractive looks. Luckily for her, you did find her really cute, and you kept in touch after the awards, allowing much more to flourish between you two. 

Now that you two are happily in a relationship, she doesn't throw away the chance to relish on your tougher side either, running to the safety of your decorated arms every time she needs to forget the world around her. 

Yuna

You first met Yuna in a queue in an amusement park, when you were waiting to get on a ride. You were chatting with your group of friends when she caught your attention, and apparently it was mutual, since she kept staring at you and your few visible tattoos in your arms and neck. You chuckled at her wide eyes, as she locked them with yours. But she wasn't shying away from you. She instantly waved at you with a wide smile, nearing you. Yuna introduced herself, along with Yeji and Ryujin who were going on the ride as well. 

She wasn't afraid to start asking about your tattoos and their meanings, and honestly you didn't mind answering them either. Most of them were new, and you proudly showed them off to someone willing to listen. After a good while chatting and your mutual crush being obvious to everyone around, you both agreed on going up the ride together, since both your groups were in the odd numbers. 

From that day on, an amazing friendship grew between you two, and Yuna never lost the habit of asking for a meaning everytime that you got a new tattoo. Except for one day, where she pointed out one that didn't have any particular explanations, you just had tattooed it because it looked pretty and cool. Yuna nodded silently at the answer, lost in her own thoughts for some minutes. 

"What do you think about tattooing my face?" She blurted out, staring lost at the horizon. 

"Wha-" You blinked, startled out at the sudden question. 

"I am pretty and cool too!" She turned around, not an ounce of a joke in her voice. 

You couldn't help but giggle in response, the way she wasn't afraid to be herself just allowed your crush on her to keep growing everyday. Always enjoying each other's company, you were both excited at the idea of being something more in the future. 

[journalxxx]

By Hook or by Crook (2)

May 1st, 2270

“Hello, Izuku.” “Hi, dad.” Izuku hadn’t exactly been dreading this conversation, but he hadn’t been looking forward to it either. He’d hoped his mom would do all the talking, having to break the news to his friends had been hard enough. For him. Most of them seemed to have gotten quite the kick out of it. “How are you? Your mother told me you’ve been having a rough couple of weeks.” “Mh.” “Still upset over that visit?” “Mh.” “Speak, son. Sulking doesn’t translate well over the phone.” His father chided gently.

Izuku sighed. “The doctor said I’m never going to get a quirk. I’m sorry.” “Whatever for? It’s not like you have any choice in the matter. Quirks are innate, surely you know that.” “Yes, I do.” Izuku said, staring at the paused frame of All Might’s debut video on the computer screen. The reflection of his own miserable face was superimposed with the triumphant silhouette of the hero. “But I’m sorry anyway. You have such a cool quirk… and mom’s useful too. I could become a great hero with one of them, but I’m never going to get any.” “Again, that’s none of your fault. And I wouldn’t be so sure of that anyway.” “Uh?” Izuku gulped, gripping the phone tightly. “Y-you don’t think I’d make a good hero?” “No, that’s not what I mean.” His father chuckled. “I mean that I wouldn’t lose hope just yet. You’re very young, there’s still plenty of time for your quirk to manifest.” “But the doctor said that all quirks appear before one is four years old. And I’m four. And I have the extra toe joint-” “Tsk! Some doctor they assigned you. As if one could unerringly guess the nature and development of something as unpredictable as a quirk with a single test. An x-ray, of all things. Ancient technology.” “The doctor said there was a study...” “I have an extra toe joint too, you know.” Izuku’s father laughed hearing his son’s surprised gasp. “Studies like the one your doctor mentioned draw conclusions based on the analysis of hundreds, thousands of cases. Those conclusions may hold true for the majority of them, but there are always outliers. Having that oh-so-precious joint and a quirk is indeed rare, but not unheard of.” “B-But…” Izuku’s eyes burned with the feeling of impending tears. He hadn’t expected his father’s reaction to be like this. No one had even remotely doubted the validity of the doctor’s opinion. No one. It almost hurt to hope. “I’m also too old…” “My own quirk didn’t show until I was… fifteen? Maybe sixteen. Way older than you are, anyway. Another important point to consider, don’t you think?” Izuku sniffled. Then cried, quietly. His father remained silent as the boy let the tears flow freely, wiping them on his arm now and then. There was a tangled ball of emotions deep in his chest, that he couldn’t quite unravel. After a couple of minutes though, the sobs abated and he felt better. Better than he had been feeling before his mom handed him the phone. “...Do you really think the doctor was wrong?” “You shouldn’t believe everything doctors tell you. My personal physician keeps calling me ‘the peak of biological and anthropological evolution’, but that’s because he’s been fishing for a raise for years. Clearly you’d expect a Darwinian champion to be able to walk under the sun without protection for more than five minutes without turning into a peeling tomato.” “Uh? Does that really happen to you?” “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that I’m albino? My skin is very sensitive to sunlight, and it burns easily. I have atrocious eyesight too.” “I didn’t know that.” Izuku winced in sympathy. “I’m sorry. That sounds terrible.” “Not nearly as much as you think. I have plenty of skills and tools at my disposal to compensate. It isn’t an inconvenience at all these days, although it did cause me some grief when I was a child.” His father’s tone got softer. “Sometimes it does feel like our bodies are our own worst enemies, doesn’t it?” Izuku hummed in assent, very much agreeing with the sentiment. “I’m happy it doesn’t hurt you any more.” “And I’m glad you didn’t inherit this nuisance from me.” A sudden thought made its unwelcome way in Izuku’s head. “If… If I didn’t inherit your skin and eyes… maybe I won’t inherit your quirk either…” “Izuku.” His father’s tone was kind but firm. There were times when his presence, even just through his voice, felt way more real and solid than that of many people Izuku habitually shared a room with. “Your ability will emerge one day, I’m positive of that. Just give it time and don’t agonize over it.” Izuku nodded, even though he realized that wouldn’t translate well over the phone either. “...Okay.” “Now, what else have you been up to in this past month, other than brooding over a criminally incompetent diagnosis?” Not much, honestly, but Izuku told him anyway. As he kept chatting, his heart grew lighter than it had been in weeks. Mom did always say that his father was a good listener.

July 1st, 2272 “They were talking about it on TV yesterday. It’s an old incident from some years ago, before All Might met Nighteye!” “I see...” “Not many people know about it, because there’s no villain involved, and villains make all the stories more interesting! But it’s a great story nonetheless!” Izuku rattled on enthusiastically, taking advantage of his father’s unresponsive compliance. “Uh-huh...” “So this boy was having some big troubles, I think, and he jumped into a river because he didn’t know what to do about them. But luckily All Might was around! Do you know what he did?” “He offered to cover all the expenses for the years of therapy the boy would need afterwards?” “Uh… They didn’t say that on TV. I don’t know. I think he just rescued him from the river.” “That doesn’t seem to address the underlying problem.” His father commented icily. “Daaad, you’re ruining the story.” Izuku chided him. “Anyway, the funny part is that this boy had a quirk that could turn water into vinegar, and he activated it in a panic while he was drowning.” “Mh. A peculiar quirk...” “So All Might got all drenched in vinegar when he dove in to save him. He made this very silly face in front of the cameras, it was great! And when the boy apologized for causing trouble, guess what All Might told him?” “I’m sorry I’m the living embodiment of this unfair, hypocritical society that has driven you to the brink of despair?” “No. He said,” Izuku continued, breezing past his father’s petty remarks with practiced ease, “It is I who should thank you. My skin’s looking ten years younger now.” “Oh my God…” The man groaned, and a loud thunk-crash noise accompanied his words. “Oh, come on!” Izuku giggled, covering his mouth with his free hand. “It’s so funny!” “Just because they’re called ‘dad jokes’ doesn’t mean I’m legally obligated to laugh at them.” “But it is funny! All Might’s the funniest! Did you know that he just wrote a joke book? It’s called All Might’s Gags and Jokes: A Compendium. It already has amazing reviews! They say it’s warm and relatable and cy.. cyclical…” “He wrote a joke book. A veritable Renaissance man, this one...” His father muttered. Izuku heard something clink in the background. Probably the pieces of whatever his father dropped. “Mom says she’ll buy it for my birthday!” Izuku added, swinging his whole body on his chair in sheer excitement. “That is such a poor use of your remittance. I’ll need to have a couple of words with her…” “It’s for my education!” Izuku enunciated with solemnity, straightening his posture. “There’s a whole chapter of American puns and word plays! It will help me learn English!” “If you want to learn English on your own so soon, please choose a decent source. Start with basic grammar and alphabet books, watch some subtitled shows and movies to get the hang of the correct pronunciation-” “I’m learning a lot from All Might already! The catchphrase he used when he was in college in California was I am here! When he’s surprised, he says Oh my goodness! When he doesn’t believe something, he says Nonsense!” Izuku parroted, taking great care of imitating All Might’s confident, surprised and disbelieving expressions respectively. They would be lost on his father, but he needed to practice them anyway. “If that’s a good American accent, I’m the next Symbol of Peace.” “Dad.” Izuku said, suddenly very serious. He had a very important question to ask, and it had been a long time coming. “Why do you always make fun of him? It’s like… It’s almost like you don’t like him at all.” The words sounded so wrong he almost wasn’t brave enough to say them. Izuku would have been mortified if anyone had moved such an accusation on him. “I suppose he has a sort of… charisma about him.” His father admitted ruefully. “I can’t say it strikes any chords with me though.” “Are you just jealous of him?” Izuku asked shrewdly. “Kacchan also talks a lot of trash about All Might, but it’s obvious he’s just jealous. It’s all right if you are, though, I mean, he’s so-” “I’m this close to hanging up, Izuku.” “But- but how can you not like All Might?! Everyone likes All Might! Boys and girls, children and grown-ups! From age 0 to 100!” “...I guess I just don’t fit the target demographic then.” Izuku huffed. “You’re so boring, dad.” “Says the one who’s been talking my ear off about the same topic for the last forty minutes.” The boy frowned, nibbling at his lip. “...Sorry. Am I annoying you?” “I’ll admit I may have hit my monthly tolerance limit of All Might trivia. Don’t worry about it though.” Izuku did in fact stop worrying, his father’s amusement clearly detectable in his voice. “I think I’ll be able to bear with your unabashed enthusiasm until you hit your mandatory disillusioned teenage phase. Then we’ll see if that obnoxiously cheery act of his will still resonate with you.”

June 2nd, 2274 “His normal body temperature is about two degrees higher than the average. Around 38-39 °C.” “And what can you deduce from that?” Izuku’s father goaded. The boy stared at the scribbles in his notebook in deep thought. “Uhm… that it’s difficult to tell if he has a fever or not?” His father laughed, but not unkindly. “I wouldn’t think so. You just said yourself that that is his normal temperature. Therefore, I wouldn’t call Endeavor’s doctor unless his thermometer read more than 39.5 °C, probably.” “Right.” Izuku nodded. That was obvious, wasn’t it? Why hadn’t he understood that on his own? His father didn’t seem to mind his blunder though. “Try again.” “I think…” Izuku’s eyes were just about to bore a hole into his rough sketch of the hero’s costume. He gave up after the silence started to make him uncomfortable though. “...I don’t know. What can I deduce from that?” “Hm… You did bring up an interesting point. Do you know how fever works, Izuku?” “Yeah. Your body temperature rises when you’re sick. If it rises too much, you can get in serious trouble, you could even die. It never really gets that bad though.” “But why does it rise? What does your body accomplish by doing that?” “Uh…” Izuku frowned. He was sure he’d read or heard something about that, but the details escaped him at the moment. “To help you fight off the sickness, right? You feel worse at first, but it actually helps you get better.” “Exactly. Most bacteria and viruses that infect men thrive and multiply optimally at around 37 °C, which is the average person’s normal body temperature. But the growth of these microorganisms is hindered when the environment gets too hot. That is the principle that makes fever useful for humans. As your body gets hotter, it debilitates the invasors, so that your immune system can remove them more easily.” “..Oh.” It was a pity that his father called him only once a month, Izuku could have easily listened to him for hours every day. He always had so many interesting things to say about so many different subjects, and he always exposed them so neatly. “So. Can you deduce anything new now?” “Uh, uhm… He… I guess he...” Izuku snapped out of his reverie. Right, this was a conversation, not a lesson. He went over the new information in his head as quickly as he could. Higher temperature than normal... Fever... Microorganisms... Immune syst- Oh! “He heals quicker than- no, wait! He doesn’t get sick at all! Because he’s always too hot for the microorganisms! They can’t grow in his body!” “Excellent reasoning!” His father’s warm praise made Izuku’s chest swell with pride. “Obviously he isn’t completely immune to any and all infections, there are lots of exceptions to the mechanism I just explained to you. But yes, I do believe it’s safe to assume that our esteemed Flame Hero suffers from the occasional seasonal maladies far less often than the general population, if at all.” “That’s so cool…” Izuku immediately added the new data to his notes, almost breaking the tip of the pencil in his enthusiasm. “Is that what you wanted me to deduce? Or did you explain that just because I brought up the fever thing?” “I was actually thinking of something else. But, on second thought, it may be too technical a topic for an eight-year-old.” “...Can you tell me about it anyway?” “Of course.” Izuku would never not be grateful for the patience his father had, never denying him any clarification on anything. He was just about the only adult who never got tired of his questions. Even his mom sometimes hid her fatigue behind a mildly insincere I don’t know. “High heat isn’t exactly conductive to the activity of human cells either. That’s one of the reasons why you feel exhausted and achy when you have a fever, your body struggles to keep doing what it’s supposed to do above its normal temperature range. But Endeavor not only is at peak condition at 39 °C, he can also withstand open flames with a much higher temperature. This suggests that his cells must be fundamentally different from the average person’s on a biochemical level, that his quirk must provide some particularly efficient cellular mechanism to prevent heat damage. One example might be some dedicated enzymes to protect proteins from denaturation, but now I’m entering mere speculation.” A pause. “Did you follow me?” “...Kind of.” Izuku said, kind of lying but not entirely. He had followed most of that. He scrawled and circled a couple of terms he hadn’t grasped - Biochemical - Enzymes - Denaturation - on the page. He didn’t want to waste his father’s time by asking him to explain the meaning of words he could easily look up later on his own. “The gist of it is that Endeavor’s Hellflame has at least two facets. Not only ‘creating fire’, but also ‘not incinerating himself’. The first trait would be a fatal liability without the second.” “Got it!” Izuku cheered. Now that he had understood completely. “You sure know a lot about quirks, dad! Like, a lot! About anything, really!” “For the sake of intellectual honesty, it must be said that it isn’t difficult to impress a primary schooler.” His father laughed. “I’m just older than you.” “How much older?” Izuku asked, realizing for the first time that no one had ever told him his father’s age. “Oh, by a lot. Centuries.” Izuku cackled. “You can’t be that old. You still go to work. Our neighbors are 80 and they’re already retired.” “I do try to keep a youthful outlook on life. But yes, quirks fascinate me quite a bit. And they make for the perfect topic to distract you from your incessant yapping about All Might.” “Speaking of All Might-” “No, I-” His father sighed theatrically. “I just walked into this one, didn’t I?” “Yep.” Izuku grinned. “What about his quirk? Do you know anything about it? He never gives straight answers when people ask him about it…” “That may be the single sign of intelligence he’s ever displayed. The more your enemies know about your quirk, the easier it is for them to find your weaknesses. I’m surprised the other pro heroes aren’t as reserved.” “I wonder why All Might does that, though. His quirk is… pretty obvious.” Izuku pondered. “It just makes him strong. Very strong. Like, the strongest ever. But that’s it.” “Allegedly, yes. But as you noticed yourself, if raw power was all there was to it, there would be no reason to skirt around the issue in interviews, no?” “So there must be something else… What do you think it might be?” “I think it would be no less than cruel to deprive you of the thrill of carrying out your own research.” Izuku let out a dissatisfied moan, and his father chuckled. “You are already so very proficient at it. Your mother told me you’ve already filled a whole notebook with hero and quirk analyses.” “Oh, ehr… It’s just stuff I read here and there…” “Mh, I’ve heard enough of your ‘stuff’ to know that there’s more than random factoids in that head of yours. In fact…” Izuku felt his cheeks warm for the compliment. “I think you’ve gotten old and judicious enough to be trusted with my emergency number.” “Uh? What emergency number?” “It’s a phone number I’ll always answer to, on any day and at any hour, in case you may find yourself in a bad situation. Hopefully you’ll never need it, but better safe than sorry. Now…” His father’s voice raised slightly, drowning out Izuku’s impending interruption. “Can I rely on the fact that you are aware that desperately wanting to tell me that All Might saved a kitten from a meteor does not qualify as an emergency?” Izuku pouted. “I know what an emergency is, dad.” “Good. Ask your mother to give you the number then. Don’t save it on your phone or write it anywhere. Memorize it, and be responsible with it.”

December 3rd, 2275 Sorry for the long silence. I had an accident on the job and I won’t be able to speak clearly for a while. We can talk with the included devices. Use your ring finger to activate them. Usual days, usual hours. Hisashi That short note held the first words Izuku had received from his father in the last five months. The first month he hadn’t phoned, Izuku had felt slightly disappointed, but understanding. His father was a busy man, surely something very important must have been requiring his full-time attention. It was fine, Izuku was confident he could manage to sweet-talk him into a double-length call the following month to make up for that. The second month, he had started to worry. His mother hadn’t heard from his father either. It was unprecedented not to hear from him for such a long time. Since Izuku could remember, his father had never skipped one of their monthly calls. They often talked on the first day of every month, and he kept trying to contact them exactly once each following day if his calls were missed. He never failed to reach them past the third day. He always called from a hidden number, so trying to get hold of him was not an option. The third month, Izuku’s mother had decided to use the emergency number. She hadn’t been able to get through to her husband, but the polite colleague of his who had picked up had reassured her that he was indisposed but overall fine, and would get in touch with them as soon as possible… which could still take a while. Curiously, the coworker had also instructed them to collect a sample of their fingerprints and send them to a specific address. Izuku had been mystified by the request, but his mother had readily agreed, commenting that it was “not the strangest thing Hisashi’s ever asked for”. The silent wait that followed had been a little uneasy, but not harrowing. Izuku and his mother reread the message a couple of times before opening the box they’d just been delivered. Inside were only the two mentioned devices with their respective chargers, snuggled among waterproof packaging and stuffing. They looked very much like ordinary mobile phones, except they had no buttons or ports on any side. Some quick experimentation proved that they could be turned on simply by pressing the indicated finger on the touchscreen. The display showed a very minimalistic chat interface, with a fixed red dot on the top left corner. No amount of tapping on the screen could bring up the virtual keyboard though, which was puzzling. There was no way to access the rest of the phone’s functions, if it even had any. It was the third day of the month, so technically still within the familiar communication window. Izuku kept poking and prodding at the buttonless phone for the whole afternoon until eventually, shortly after dinner, the red dot at the top of the chat became green. A minute later, a message popped up. Hello, Izuku. Izuku almost dropped his cup of hot chocolate in excitement, which was quickly replaced by frustration because he still couldn’t type anything in any way. How was he supposed to- Speak. I can hear you. “...Oh! Nice!” Izuku exclaimed. “Hi, dad! How are you? What happened?” I’ve been better. I got decked by a hysterical ape. Izuku frowned. “That’s not funny. Mom and I were very worried.” That wasn’t really a joke. What? What even- “...How? Did you break into a zoo or something…?” Sorry, you’re right. Let me rephrase. I had a violent disagreement with a brute. “Oh…” Izuku was about to ask for further explanations but he waited. The three bouncing dots at the bottom of the screen signalled that his father was still writing. We will have to communicate like this for a while. I hope it isn’t too much of an inconvenience for you. Judging by how long it took him to type even the shortest messages, Izuku thought it was going to be much more of an inconvenience for his father. He felt sorry for him. “No, not all. Is it… is it really bad? Shouldn’t you come home so we can help you get better? It sounds like you won’t be able to work anyway…” I’ll receive better medical treatment here, and I can still get some work done while I recuperate. Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll recover fully sooner or later. Izuku picked at the lint of his blanket, choosing his words carefully. “You could… come home anyway. Even if you could work. When you’re feeling a little better. So we could spend some time together.” The three bouncing dots reappeared, but Izuku kept talking. He already knew what his father’s answer was going to be, but he wanted to take advantage of the delay to get a few more words in. “Some of my friends have parents that work far from home too. They’re away a lot, but… they do come back to visit sometimes. Usually for the holidays. At least… At least once.” At least his friends had actually met their fathers once in their whole lives, Izuku completed only in his head. You know how things stand. My job doesn’t afford me this kind of free time. “...What do you even do that won’t let you ever do anything?” Izuku muttered, out of sheer petulance. That was another familiar point of contention, to which his father replied with the same, word-for-word justification he always used. Every detail concerning my activities is classified by the government. We’ve been over this. Don’t be childish. And that was usually the end of it. Any further questioning after the ‘classified’ thing invariably turned Izuku’s father into a slippery wall of smooth deflections. But, considering the current situation, Izuku felt like he could get away with a little more nagging, if he played his cards right. “I know you can’t say anything. But how about…” He physically leaned forwards, trying not to let his tension seep through his voice. “How about I try to deduce something? About your job. Just… for fun.” No new message showed up, not even the typing dots. Izuku decided that it was as much of an approval as he was going to get, so he started to voice his thoughts as they formed. “...Your job is classified by the government. So it’s important, very important, so important that other people can’t know about it.” When he was very young, Izuku had obviously interpreted it as irrefutable proof that his father must be some sort of secret agent. He had exposed his conclusion to Kacchan and his gang once. They had… not-so-respectfully disagreed. Izuku had never brought up the matter with them afterwards. “Your note said that you got hurt on the job. So someone you know from work punched you so hard that, even after five months, you still can’t talk well.” Izuku paused. That was… a scary idea. It dawned on him, for the first time since the beginning of this whole ordeal, that his father may have really dodged a bullet there. What kind of a brute could possibly want to injure someone that much…? Surely a criminal… A villain, maybe…? “Your job is dangerous, and it leaves you almost no free time. It also pays well.” That last item was admittedly a shot in the dark, Izuku didn’t really know much about money handling. But he had noticed that his mother never denied him a gift or a treat on the grounds of its cost (his vast collection of All Might memorabilia was a testament to that), like so many of his friends’ relatives were wont to do. She didn’t need a job herself, and Izuku remembered overhearing a conversation she had with Kacchan’s mom where she had said that they were ‘well provided for’. “You know a lot about a lot of stuff, especially about quirks and heroes. You know a lot of things about quirks and heroes that I couldn’t find anywhere on the internet.” Izuku paused, racking his brain for anything else that stuck out. Before he could come up with more points to make, his father finally wrote back. You sure put some thought into this. I’m impressed. The lack of reprimands was an encouragement in its own right. Now came the hard part. These were all facts that he already knew, now he had to put them together… and no matter how much he tried to come up with different possibilities, there was only one explanation that rang true in Izuku’s mind. “Dad… are you some sort of… undercover hero?” Izuku waited with baited breath for the dancing dots to turn into a complete message. Definitely not. ...Aw, shoot. Although I guess I do happen to deal with heroes quite often in my line of work. Izuku gasped. That was the first real piece of information his father had ever shared with him about his job! And wow, he worked with heroes! And whatever support he lent them had to be pretty vital if he was always so busy and tight-lipped. “So you’re like… a policeman? An informant that tracks down villains for the heroes to catch? Or an engineer bound by trade secret? Or-” Enough, Izuku. I’m supposed to be resting. I don’t think being given the third degree by my own son counts as such. Izuku deflated. So close to the truth, and yet so far… Maybe he could manage to get some other clue out of his father later. But… there was one more thing he simply had to ask. “...Have you ever met All Might?” I’m just going to ignore you after this. Well, it had been worth a try. Izuku finally relented, reasonably satisfied with the result of his investigation. “Okay, okay. Sorry. No more questions. And no All Might stuff. Not that I have much to tell you about him. He hasn’t really been around lately.” Hasn’t he, now? Uh, odd. It wasn’t like his father to miss an opportunity to dodge All Might gossip. Izuku supposed there’d be no harm in taking advantage of this atypical spark of curiosity. “Yeah. It’s been like this for a few months. Rumors say he’s abroad, working on some large scale mission. Something very secret, that’s why there are no articles on him in newspapers from other countries either.” I wasn’t aware of this. That’s very interesting. Although I couldn’t imagine anyone less suited to hushed-up operations. Izuku couldn’t help but snort. In light of the recent revelation, he wondered if his father was so unapologetically critical of All Might because he had worked with him and they hadn’t gotten along… which seemed kind of impossible. How could All Might be the unpleasant type of coworker? Or maybe his father really was just jealous because he couldn’t work with All Might often enough. A sudden thought occurred to the boy. “...Sorry, I guess you don’t want to hear about hero stuff now that you’re, uh… on forced vacation.” Actually, I’d love to. I’ve been a little out of the loop lately, I need to catch up with the news anyway. Fire away all the information you have. Izuku smiled. “Even about All Might?” Especially about All Might.

[heyhihellowhatsup0]

Tangled Webs - Chapter Six (Dark! Peter Parker x Reader)

Dark Webs Masterlist | Tangled Webs Masterlist

Warnings:   Angst, language, Smut, Topics of death and depression, PTSD, more angst, violence, a bit more fluff and smut than the last series? Somewhat ignoring the MCU timeline due to mature content

Word Count: 5820

Summary: After doing your best to walk on eggshells around Peter, you finally reach the boiling point as you and him face (most) of your drama head on…

A/N: I am so sorry this took so long to post! Hopefully this was worth the wait...We’re getting angsty ya’ll and I’m nervous af so please let me know what you guys think (respond/repost/interact)! Your sweet words and comments always make me smile! (Also I found this .gif on google, so if you made it, or know who did, let me know and I will credit!) Thank you xx -N

Peter ran through the cemetery, removing his mask as he frantically tried to catch his breath. Forgetting what he was running from, he stopped for a moment and looked around. The black sky being illuminated by the streetlights from behind him as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. How did he even get out here?

    Walking past the graves, he felt his heart thudding as he saw a shadow beginning to take shape sitting in front of a stone. Trying to figure out who it was, Peter slowly took a few steps forward, keeping quiet as he focused on the silhouette. Inching forward as he cleared his throat, suddenly realizing the silhouette belonged to a female.

    “Are you okay?” Peter called out to her, walking forward a bit more. He saw her moving but couldn’t make out what she was doing. She looked so familiar, as vague as she looked from behind. But Peter couldn’t figure out who she was or what she was doing as she leaned back a bit with a breathy gasp that made Peter think she was in trouble.

    Pushing his legs, he ran over to her. Seeing her clutching a bottle in her hand as she smashed it before Peter. He jumped back a bit as the glass shattered around his legs. Taking her in, Peter suddenly realized that she was you. But what the hell were you doing at a cemetary this late at night? Or early in the morning…

    “Y/N, what the fuck…?” Peter breathed out as he crouched down to your level, looking at the blood around your hand from the glass as he watched you sitting motionlessly staring at the stone in front of you, “Y/N, what are you doing here?” he asked again as he reached to tap your shoulder gently.

    “You made me do it, Peter,” he heard you mutter under your breath in between your sobs. You refused to face him but your tone alone made Peter’s heart feel like it stopped beating. There was something very wrong right now and everything felt weird to him.

    You stood frozen with your waves cascading down your back, moving your shoulders with your breathy sobs while the bloody palm of your hand brushed up against the engraving written on the granite. Peter swallowed as his eyes went to the name, it took a moment for him to register what you were looking at. But when he did, he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

    Harold Osborn, beloved son

    And you blamed Peter for him lying in the ground as you drank yourself to death. Peter shook his head as he wiped a tear away, trying to pull you out of your trance. He whispered your name but you didn’t want to move.

    “No, I belong here, Peter…” you told him monotonously. He looked at your hand and noticed another bottle suddenly appeared in it. Looking down at his feet, the glass that was shattered appeared to be gone. How…?

    When Peter turned his head again, you were gone. The bottle was resting on top of the gravestone as Peter went to investigate further. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the name now appearing on the granite. The name that made Peter’s legs turn to jelly.

    Here Lies Y/F/N/ Y/L/N

    Peter jumped back, feeling the knot in his stomach forming as he wanted to scream at the sight. This wasn’t real, he thought to himself. No way in hell was this real. 

    Falling to the floor, Peter hit the ground. His head smacking on the hardwood floor of Agent Kent’s living room. The blanket he was using falling on top of his head, feeling how soaked it was from his cold sweats.

    “Fuck...just a dream,” Peter said to himself as he slowly sat up straight, pushing his back up against the couch as he pushed his damp curls out of his face trying to pull himself together from what was the horrible nightmare he had just experienced.

    His instinct told him to check on you, he knew he should. It had been a few days since he had seen you last, hoping the space between you both would be the best thing for the both of you. But he’d be a liar if he said he didn’t miss you every second, constantly thinking about you or wondering if you were okay. You were only a few floors above him but it felt like different countries with the silence between you both.

    Peter grabbed his hoodie and threw it on himself quickly. He threw the blanket back onto the couch before he walked through the living room, past the kitchen and towards the front door of Kent’s apartment. He was going with his instincts, he thought to himself.

    “I wouldn’t,” a voice said, making Peter stop as he turned around to see Agent Kent standing in the darkness, “It’s late, Peter, and you’re not thinking clearly right now,” he tried to reason with him as he gave Peter a look.

    “I know I told you to keep me in check during this whole thing but...seriously?” Peter rolled his eyes as he slammed the door shut, going back to the couch. Kent was definitely taking this job a bit too literally. He was glad that Kent took him in for the time being while you stayed upstairs in your place but Kent was always there to intercept whenever Peter even just thought about sending you a text message. It was as if he could read Peter’s mind and it was beginning to get on his nerves a bit.

    Peter sighed as he watched Kent grab two beers from the fridge, opening one for himself as he walked over with them and sat beside Peter, “I’m doing it for you, man. And for Y/N, you have to know that,” Kent said as he took a swig of his beer.

    “I really want you to use this energy you have right now and instead of putting it towards Y/N, put it towards that burglar. Y/N will sort herself out and frankly she could use the space,” Kent offered with another swig, reaching over to open the second bottle that was sitting directly in front of Peter.

    Trying to agree with Kent, Peter knew he was right, even if it killed him on the inside. Peter wanted to help you and that was the bottom line. But he knew he couldn’t do it with the way you were handling yourself right now. It certainly wasn’t ideal but Peter was hoping the time apart would hopefully make you see the light; sort of like when Peter thought he lost you last time and it made him sober up quicker than anything else. 

    And Peter knew in the meantime he had to focus. He knew the city was crumbling and he had a job to do. The burglaries were only increasing and there was no pattern to any of them. He couldn’t tell when or where they would strike next, he just needed to be ready and prepared at any given time. So maybe putting his energy into that for the time being wouldn’t be a horrible thing.

    “I’ll find her,” Peter said knowingly. He knew he would find her with his senses alone but with EDITH and KAREN, he had a leg up in the situation. Come his next patrol, he wouldn’t rest until he brought this burglar in to some sort of justice. He needed to find her otherwise then he knew he would constantly be trying to run to you, because that’s where he really wanted to be. Even though he knew you needed this space.

    “I didn’t know the guy but I know Tony would be proud of you,” Kent added, giving Peter a proud smile as he handed him the fresh beer, watching as Peter stared down at it as if he was staring down the barrel of a gun, “He sacrificed himself for so much and you’re doing the same not just for Y/N but for the whole city. He’d be proud of that,” he told Peter, clanking his bottle up against the one Peter was staring at.

    Watching as Kent finished his drink, Peter felt his eyes on him. He knew what he was waiting for but Peter’s lips trembled as his thumb ran across the rim. The smell of the beer running through his nostrils as he inhaled, trying to shake that off. 

    Kent nudged Peter a bit as he nodded his head towards the bottle, “For Tony, right?” he told Peter as he set his empty bottle on the table, waiting for Peter to make his move.

--------

    “You’re the specialist here to see the John Doe?” the secretary asked you as she pulled up the paperwork on the computer, eyeing you up and down suspiciously as you showed her your fake identification one more time.

    “They wanted somebody else to examine him before he gets moved tomorrow. One last try,” you shrugged as you took back your ID. Remaining calm was in your DNA at this point. You knew if you showed this woman one ounce of nervousness, your entire undercover stunt would be completely blown.

    She typed the information up and printed them out before she slid them into a manilla envelope and handed them to you. Handing you a visitor’s badge, she provided the directions to his holding cell as she opened the locked glass door for you to go through. It was almost too easy, you thought to yourself as you thanked her and headed towards the holding cells.

    After everything that was going on with you personally, you desperately needed a distraction from it all. So you buried yourself into this case, hoping you would have a story that you would pitch to The Globe. The man who was caught by Peter from robbing the ATM still hadn’t spoken since the arrest; and although you didn’t think you could get him to speak, maybe he knew something that you could try and get out of him.

    Anything to distract yourself, you thought as you scanned the ID into the cell. 

    You saw him sitting on the other side of the glass with his back against the wall. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, possibly weeks and he seemed to be in a trance-like state. The dark circles under his eyes stared right at you as you took a few more steps forward, placing your visitor’s badge up to the window to let him know you were there to see him.

    “I know you’ve been kind of quiet lately but this is sort of your last chance to say anything. And if there’s something you have to say, I can keep it between you and I,” you told him, assuring him that you weren’t a cop, you weren’t even a reporter that he knew of. You were just...somebody to talk to.

    Keeping your eyes on him, he began to roll his wheelchair towards you. His stare was still blank but his eyes were fixed on you. He stopped directly in front of the window as you sucked in a breath nervously, watching his trance turn a bit more into a focus as you did your best to remain calm in front of him.

    “So I know you can hear me,” you said to him with a nod. You licked your lips as you tucked your badge back into your pocket, “Is there a way you could tell me your name? We still don’t know who you are,” you told him with a gentle voice. Hoping you could maybe try and convince him to get him to talk to you.

    You kept your eyes on him, not wanting to miss anything. His eyes looked at you with fear in them, wide doe eyes as you swore it had looked like he was crying a few moments earlier before you arrived. Maybe he was scared, who wouldn’t be? Maybe he was too afraid to talk and he just needed someone who he’d feel safe opening up to. And you were hoping he would find that solace in you, maybe.

    “I promise I will keep this just between us,” you told him quietly as you put your palm up to the glass as a promise to him.

    His lips began to quiver and curve as if he were trying to form a sentence. You nearly gasped but you didn’t want to startle him. Leaning in to hear what he was trying to say or do, you nodded your head encouragingly towards him to let him know it was okay. You were a safe space regardless of what he had to say.

    “Y-yo-you,” he started to say as his lips started whistling lowly, he didn’t want anybody else to hear so you pressed your ear up against the glass to listen more carefully. Pursing your lips at him curiously as you felt your heart beginning to race as you waited.

    He cleared his throat a bit as he tried again, “Your identity is your most powerful possession,” he finally got out with a raspy voice. It sounded like he hadn’t spoken in months, mainly because it had almost been that long probably since he had spoken, “Protect it, Y/N,” he told you which made your mouth nearly fall to the floor.

    You didn’t know how he knew your real name but it gave you a chill down your spine. Not only did he know that but he knew you had to protect your identity from what you had done. Maybe it was your senses but you knew he was connected to Octavious. That’s how he knew about protecting your identity.

    “Protect it from who? Octavious?” you asked him as you looked at him, suddenly his facial expressions looked as if he were a malfunctioning robot. Which made you realize that meant Octavious still had his damn claw in this guy even though he was trying to break free and speak to you.

    But he was breaking free, wasn’t he?

    “Stay with me,” you told him as you continued to watch him break down in front of you, “W-what’s your name?” you stammered as you asked him, knowing you probably didn’t have much time left with him before Octavious shut him back down again.

    He shook his head frantically, almost as if he were trying to restrain himself from talking, and then trying to force himself to open his mouth at the exact same time. You pulled away from the glass, watching his face contort and morph continuously as he kept fighting with himself.

    Pushing himself against the intercom, you saw his face relax a moment as he looked at you, “Qu-Quentin Beck,” he finally said breathlessly.

    And then he collapsed onto the floor.

    You had a name. A real name. And now you knew he was connected to Octavious and whoever the hell he was working with. You may actually have a lead that you could work with and expose Octavious. But for right now, you knew you weren’t safe here.

    Octavious was listening to you and Quentin, and you knew you didn’t have a lot of time. It wasn’t going to be long at all before Octavious activated your chip and commanded you to do something to shut you up; or worse, end up like Beck in a place like this. You knew you needed to get out of there, and fast.

    You didn’t walk out of there, you ran out of the hospital frantically. Going right past security without even signing out. You could feel your body getting rigid with each and every step you took closer to the exit. He was in your head, you could feel him, and you knew you couldn’t fight him off for much longer.

    You barely got out onto the street before your legs stopped working in the direction you wanted them to. The sun began to set in the distance as you found yourself reaching in your back pocket to grab your mask. Crying out for help, you knew Octavious wouldn’t stop for anything as he forced you down to another street.

    “I told you to keep to yourself…” you heard Octavious’ voice say from in your head as he brought you towards an ATM, “Now bring some cash instead of worrying that pretty little head of yours about him,” he told you as you reached in your back pocket and grabbed the pistol you now were always forced to take with you.

    Taking a breath, you knew you had to do it. You didn’t have a choice in the matter. And the worst part of it all was you were actually good at it. You had abilities and skills that other people, policemen, didn’t have. And you were able to now control your abilities a little bit more to help get you in and out of these situations as quickly as possible. If it wasn’t for crime, you would actually enjoy them.

    But because of what you were being forced to do, you despised yourself for doing it each and every time. It was one of the reasons why you drank away each robbery. You weren’t proud at all of your work; you were utterly ashamed and desperate to erase it completely from your memory. And just thinking about how Peter would react made you want another bottle right away.

    Fighting that urge right now, you made a beeline for the ATM and unlocked the door with your strength. You felt so much stronger these days, it didn’t take much at all to open the machine. Reaching into the computer, you pulled out a wad of the cash and stuffed it into your bag as quickly as possible.

    A few more bills left, as you stuffed them one by one into your bag. Almost home free and about to get the hell out of this bank scot-free. No cameras or security alarms had gone off yet and your senses were all level. This was the home-stretch and then you could get the fuck back to your depressing and now lonely apartment and be with your thoughts.

    But the ATM door slammed shut, making you jump as you looked around, trying to find who was responsible for closing the door. The cops? You could handle the cops, you thought to yourself as you looked through the window. You felt Octavious, reaching for your gun, but you never wanted to use that again. And you were hoping he wouldn’t make you.

    Your bag of money was snatched right from your hands and you looked up with a bad feeling in your gut. The worst type of feeling possible. The feeling you were trying to avoid for so long but here it was. The unavoidable.

    Peter waved your bag of money in his suit cockily, “You’re a very tough woman to get a hold of, you know,” he said to you as you felt your heart sinking deeper in your chest.

Of course you hadn’t sensed him. Peter wasn’t a threat to you. Or at least, he was never a threat to you before; so you had no reason to be fearful of him before. However, now you were learning that maybe Spider-Man was the one who might be a threat. At least to this robbing alter ego Octavious had created. Especially since he was the one Octavious continuously threatened to kill if you didn’t cooperate.

You couldn’t say anything to Peter, you knew he would recognize you almost immediately. You were even afraid to so much as look at him even with the mask on. Peter knew you inside and out, and you had a feeling that he would know who you were without even giving it a second thought.

Except Peter would never think you would do anything like this…

Ignoring him, you reopened the ATM and attempted to grab the last bit of cash in there. Trying to show Peter you weren’t phased by him being there. He quickly retaliated, flipping off of the wall he was perched on and was now directly in front of you, pushing the ATM door closed again with his gloved hand.

“Listen, I’m in no mood for games tonight,” Peter told you as he aimed his webbing towards your arm, concealing it against the ATM machine, “Especially with you. So I’m taking you fucking into the-”

Peter cut himself off when he watched as you tore yourself from his webbing with such ease, like taking a piece of scotch tape off of your finger. His web fluid was designed to hold together some of the strongest metals on Earth, so who the hell was this person if she was ripping it off like it was nothing? 

It was nothing like he had ever seen. It would have been impressive, if he wasn’t so god damn pissed off about it. He didn’t want to be here right now. He wished he was doing other things, or checking on the people he cared about. But Kent forced him out on an early patrol, overworking him and now he was face to face with something he wasn’t planning on facing. Story of his life, Peter figured.

Picking the rest of the webbing off from your arm, you felt Octavious take over as he leapt onto the ceiling, swinging from the lamp post as he forced you to kick Peter in the stomach, sending him into the window. You gasped in shock about what you had done, seeing Peter hit the floor and let out a groan. You promised you’d never hurt him no matter what.

Jumping back down from the ceiling, you grabbed the bag of money Peter had dropped from the floor as you began to feel your body vibrate when you looked at Peter trying to stand back up. Octavious was trying to get you to use yourself to do something to Peter, something bad like those other guys. But you couldn’t, you wouldn’t.

The blackness began to take over your vision as you kept trying to focus on Peter. You wouldn’t hurt him, you repeated that mantra in your head over and over again. Your body kept vibrating at a higher frequency as you clenched your jaw together, balling your hand into a fist, focusing on Peter over and over again. Trying to ignore what Octavious wanted you to do with all the strength in your body.

The deafening shrill sound of the white noise surrounded your ears as you let out an agonizing groan. Not wanting Peter to hear or recognize you as he was beginning to recover from his fall. He quickly approached you, aiming another webbing towards you as you quickly snapped out of it and dodged the web grenade.

You felt this high pitch screech in your head while Octavious was making you build it all up and you needed to release it somewhere. Ock wanted it to be Peter but you refused. Fighting with all of your strength to fight him as well as Peter, you glared at the ATM machine and felt your relief as you watched it burst into flames. You still had some control, you thought to yourself as you saw Peter’s reaction to the fire.

“How did you do that?” Peter asked you curiously as he activated his hydro web to begin to put out the fire. He was astounded at what you were capable of but at the same time, he had never felt more afraid or threatened before. 

Peter gave you a look, cocking his head to the side as he kicked away some of the embers that brushed against his suit. He looked in your direction as if he were trying to figure out who you were. There was something about this masked woman that he felt connected to on some level, and Peter felt it more and more. Almost as if she were familiar. Someone he knew. But that was impossible.

You glared over at the alarm up by the security camera, causing it to sound. You had no idea how you could do it with just a look, but you did. The fire grew from the ATM machine with another look you gave it as the flames formed between you and Peter, knowing he was getting too close to actually figuring out who you might be.

Using Peter’s distraction with the fire as a green light, you grabbed the cash and you ran as fast as you could out of the bank. You ran to the corner of a darkened alley where he couldn’t see you, you could feel eyes all over you as you went further into the darkness. Removing the mask from your eyes as your breath got heavier, making you nauseous. 

    Feeling Octavious leave you with the sinking feeling on your chest, you collapsed onto the concrete. The bag of money rolling onto the floor beside you as you rested your head against the building wall behind you. Sweat seeping out of your pores as you sobbed whimpers of pain and guilt. Literally running and hiding from Peter, hurting him when you swore you never would, and now, you were fighting him away from you. As if you were The Vulture, or Harry Osborn, or any of the other guys Peter had fought off in the past.

    You really weren’t any better than any of those guys at the end of the day.

    Trying to catch your breath, you coughed until it felt like you were about to hack up your lung. The nausea sending waves throughout your body as you shut your eyes for a moment against the concrete building. This wasn’t from Octavious. This wasn’t even from outrunning Peter. This was you.

    You really were dying. And everything mixing and coursing through your veins and DNA was killing you slowly but surely. There was no way to stop it or control it and you were pretty sure even Octavious hadn’t had a clue about your current status otherwise he’d throw you to the wolves next to Quentin Beck. The only one who knew was you, and you had no cure.

    You were dying. And you didn’t even need a drink anymore. This pain was punishment enough for you as you sat in the alley, hiding from Peter and all of the damage you had done.

--------

    She got away again, Peter thought to himself as he scanned himself back into Stark tower. Whoever she was, she was strong and powerful, too powerful for Peter to take on in that way.  Even if he was prepared for something like that, there was still no way to predict the fact that she could set things on fire using her eyes. 

    Peter failed, he thought to himself again as he dragged his feet towards the elevator slowly. Everything was such a mess and he didn’t know which end was up or down right now. He hadn’t seen you in almost a week and his life was falling apart. Everybody was counting on him to find these bad people causing harm to the city and yet again he couldn’t deliver.

    The lake house upstate was beginning to look more and more intriguing as the days went on and Peter felt himself fading with the anxiety he was facing. He couldn’t go to you for help right now because you already had so much on your plate. Who else could he talk to? Morgan? There was no doubt a six year old would probably knock more sense into him than Peter could, but he knew he could never do that to her.

    The only other person he had right now was Kent. He trusted him and Peter thought he was a good and dependable agent. But he still was with S.H.I.E.L.D, which always put the defense for the city above anything else. Including Peter. And now he was returning empty-handed once again. Being a letdown. This was really beginning to get to him.

    Peter desperately wanted to go down to your place and knock on the door. He wanted to so badly give you a hug, telling you everything was going to be alright as he wished he could take your pain away, and you his. Back when things didn’t seem so secretive or hidden from one another, and you actually would tell each other things. At least he thought you did. Things didn’t seem so omnious then.

    But now everything felt ominous. Maybe that was because you weren’t around to help Peter the last few days, or maybe it was because Peter hadn’t been to a meeting since he last saw you. Perhaps it was because of both of those things. But Peter was on the edge, and he was beginning to feel completely deflated. Beginning to forget about the normal things he would do to keep himself from losing it, most of those had to do with you. But now he was trying not to check on you, all the while trying to act like he knew what he was doing.

    Peter couldn’t do it anymore. Not alone, anyway.

    He was losing his grip and he could tell.

    Walking into Kent’s apartment, he walked in silently, not wanting to wake anyone up. It was dark but he heard a voice. A female, who sounded as if she were sobbing which made Peter perplexed. Who did Kent have in here? And why were they upset?

    Taking a few steps inside, he realized it was you. Your face buried into your palms in the darkness as you cried into yourself, making Peter’s chest tighten as he hurried over to you without skipping a bit. It suddenly didn’t matter to him about how much time had passed or what he told you about your break. You were upset and he needed to be there for you no matter what.

    “Y/N! Y/N, w-what’s wrong?” Peter stammered as he hurried over to your side of the couch, kneeling down in front of you to your level as you refused to remove your hands away from your face. He tried to shush you, to calm you down, but you just didn’t stop crying and he didn’t know what to do.

    Peter cleared his throat again as he placed his hands over yours, “Please tell me how I can fix it,” he tried again in a more calm voice.

    You shook your head as you slowly removed your palms away from your face, your shadow creating a mass over yourself so Peter couldn’t see what you looked like. He heard you sniffle as you clenched his hand tighter, almost hurting him with your touch. But he didn’t care about that.

    “Help me,” you whimpered silently through the darkness as you gripped Peter’s hands tighter as he tried to find your face in the black, “Peter…” you cried out as you began to pull him closer to you.

    But Peter nearly gasped when he saw you. Cussing under his breath, he pulled his hands away in fear as he saw you. Your entire face was drenched in blood and there were bruises all around your eyes. It looked like you had just come out of a horror film and it shocked Peter, to say the very least.

    “Am I going to end up like Tony?” you asked him as you began coughing up blood on the couch as Peter just stared in shock. Was this another nightmare? It couldn’t be, he thought. He had only just gotten home.

    “What?” Peter finally asked you, watching as you continued to practically cough your guts out on the couch. He felt so helpless, he didn’t know what to say or to do to make you feel better or make your pain go away.

    Peter ran to go find his phone to maybe call 911 and wait for them with you. But by the time he returned to the living room, you were gone without a trace. Almost as if he had imagined the entire thing in his mind. He flung his phone onto the couch in defeat, not sure what the hell was going on in his mind anymore, but he was definitely losing it.

    He wanted to scream, he wanted to so badly. But Kent was asleep and he knew he’d wake up the entire floor of S.H.I.E.L.D if he did. He couldn’t do it anymore. He was seeing things he knew he shouldn’t be of people he loved, telling him horrible things. What did that mean? He already felt like he wasn’t doing his job as it was. He knew he couldn’t keep you safe, or he felt like he couldn’t anyway. He was failing everyone and letting them down. You included. 

    Trying to shake this feeling off, Peter headed towards the bathroom to shower off. But he stopped at the liquor cabinet sitting in the dining room nearby. It never appealed to him before but right now, it never looked so inviting. The crisp bottle of vodka, looking like it had Peter’s name right on it to quench his thirst after this disaster of a patrol.

    “Get your ass to a meeting tomorrow,” Peter tried to say to himself. Tomorrow. Not now, but tomorrow. And he still stared at the bottle. He was proud of himself for saying no to Kent earlier with his beer request but maybe this was a part of his punishment.

    It was a toast to Tony, after all, and Peter didn’t honor that. Now you were telling Peter you’d wind up like him too. Peter unscrewed the cap as he looked down the bottle and his eyes clenched shut. He couldn’t deny that this was all entirely his fault. Everything was such a mess and people were looking to him for answers he didn’t even know. 

    Peter knew that the answer wasn’t going to be at the bottom of this bottle of vodka. But as he brought his lips up to it and took a long sip, the alcohol going right to his brain and setting off those signals he thought he had forgotten about for a year; he simply did not care.

Taglist: @osterfield-holland-andcompany @missmulti @hazmyheart @lauras-collection @iamapersonwholikesunicorns @farfromhazreads @detroitbydark @mcuassemble @blahhhhhhhaaa @lonikje @beiroviski @ruefulposts @rebekkah4766 @desir-ae @kayla-m1996 @averyfosterthoughts @unicorn-princess-1999 @asmilinghopelessromantic @itsjusttoriamarie-blog @whatareyouhidingpeter @when-marvellous-things-happen @mannien @lilostif16 @u-rrose @jillanaholland @ninjalex1d @dee-rosemary @baby-unidorn @astoldbydanid @honey-sea @fallingforfics @lulueliott24 @mikalaka @babebenhardy @coni-martina @geniousparker @captainemrys @mktravelbuggie @underoosmarvel @pluckypete @hollandfanficlove @lookalivefrosty @lightmelikeacigarette @msmarvel-19 @averyfosterthoughts @u-rrose @parker-holland-osterfield @thwip-it-real-good @shirukitsune @justanotherusername80 @jillanaholland @dangerdolns @jwolfesblog @jjayyc @sad-thinker-over @ifilosemyselfagain @axisnpalma @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @bookgirlunicorn @kfcyum @phrogtheguitarist @thenoddingbunny-blog @buzzbuzzitsmeagainbitch @herondale-snow-carstairs @marvelobsessedteenager @samallbee @unlimitedd @dramaholic18 @softholand @panicattheeverywherekid @emotionally-unstable23 @quackeroos @unbelievableholland @holyhumorliteraturelight @shayminisshiny @spideyyeet @katiekinzs @fanficparker @ifntelyinspirit @rubberducky-jrr @xguardgirlx  @hollandstea @t-holland2080 @oh-whatabeautiful-parker @selfcarecap @localfangirlx @xxpeachyxo @hazardosterfield @xstarbae @justanotherusername80 @halfblood-princess-505 @photoshopart15 @spiderbibby @the-fandom-life-forever @jannine00742 @parachutepants​ @morgueswrld @zeppelin005​ @decadentwastelandtrash 

[arklayraven]

I gotta rant again. Yep it's about Loki and Marvel.

If you're wondering if I'm still bothered by the Marvel stuff involving Loki yesterday. Please know, I am.

And just more annoyed today over how they are trying to play it off now as just 'Loki being Loki'.

Haha nah. It makes no sense.

Why just Loki? And don't give me that 'he's a trickster' bullshit excuse again. I'm getting tired of it.

Like if they really had plans to reveal characters and all like some surprise. Why like that? Like if it weren't for the person sharing the image as proof before. We would of never known Loki was suppose to be on the cover. We would of just imagined he got left out again, and that's that. Like the gap didn't bring any real 'that's odd' feelings to me. For the shield was there. Logically you'll believe marvel would want that shield to be shown well is all.

Instead, we are getting 'oh it was all according to plan!' by marvel once they got caught in erasing Loki. And 'oh you know how Loki is! That trickster god he is!' from other news articles trying to back up marvel's obvious damage control. So I guess this gives a pass for marvel to use this as a excuse for now on whenever Loki isn't included in things he should of been included in.

'Oh you know Loki. He's just off causing mischief elsewhere'. Please, enough with that excuse. It's cute at first but after this horrible mess, it's just bothering now.

Tom was not kidding in his little line about 'Loki tends to get left out'. like fecking ouch.

Also if they wanted to reveal a character on the cover like that. Don't fecking just erase them completely and not say anything on it as if we were expecting someone to show up. There was no word that I know before hand from marvel saying keep a look out on more characters to be added on the cover. They could of blurred them out, then revealed them, or use a black silhouette. Or slowly reveal a character or so every few days/weeks until the comic comes out. It doesn't make sense it was just Loki alone who was the target on this. It just doesn't sit well with me.

Anyways. I'm glad Loki is back on the cover, but I am just not happy how this all went. Marvel just lost all trust with me. I wanna hope this stuff doesn't happen again in the future but...yeah...

[omniswords]

Chronicles of a Parisian Dumbass 10

omni’s on lunch break, quick post a new Chronicles update—

anyway, thank you for continuing to support this fic!!! i hope you enjoy this update and share the love!

from: itsdjbubbles

hey dude! i know you don’t know me or whatever but like, i wanted to tell you that clip you just posted was FIRE. and also i’m pretty sure we’re in the same city? i think i heard you playing this on the champ de mars yesterday. i didn’t have any cash on me but i totally would’ve given you some if i did.

anyway, nice tunes and hope you’re havin a good one

Luka’s only glad this message hasn’t been sitting in his request box for very long. Otherwise, he’d really feel like a total douchebag. And an ungrateful douchebag on top of that, considering the new clip he posted… isn’t doing as well as he’d like. Not even as well as the first version, the thirty seconds he recorded on his phone and slapped on the internet because his soul all but compelled him to. It’s not that he’s comparing himself to other musicians on here; he rarely does this stuff for the numbers, anyway. It’s more that he’s comparing himself to… himself. The thing that he loves doing, puts hours of himself into, versus… these simple, giveaway details of his life that he posts without a second thought, because, well, where else is he going to put them?

Is this the case with every artist? Because if it is, then that’s just… stupid.

It’s half-past midnight, but Luka still pushes himself out of bed and shuffles to the couch, using the light of his phone to guide his path. His mother and Juleka are surprisingly asleep by now—he’s pretty sure at least half of France is, in spite of what this city has to offer—but he’s hardly ever been opposed to the comfort of the quiet and the dark. At least it gives him a chance to read the message a few more times.

It’s not often that people reach out to him privately. In fact, most of his direct messages are from people he’d befriended on other social media platforms, or occasionally someone who, like this Bubbles person, just wanted to let him know they liked his work and hoped he was having a nice day. It’s not that he thinks that he’s better than the people who are brave enough to reach out. He’s just never really known how to answer those kinds of messages beyond a thank you, so he’s tended to leave them be, or worse—never accept them in the first place, so they’d never know he read them at all.

It sort of makes him wonder how people dealt with situations like this a century or two ago. Maybe they just never left their houses, so they could never be called upon. So they never had to be known.

That wouldn’t be so bad, if he didn’t have to make money. Or if he didn’t like the sun so much.

Well. He supposes with technology like this, he’s coming pretty close.

Out of curiosity, Luka taps Bubbles’s icon, just to peek at their profile. He balks at the follower count—it’s well over a thousand—and judging by the content they post, he’s pretty sure almost none of them are those stupid bots looking to make ad revenue or ensure their devices are brimming with viruses. Or worse—argue against human rights, as though they’re something to be argued against. Bubbles’s page is funny, and vibrant, and rife with links to this other website he’s only ever heard of in jokes. It makes him halfway wonder how many of Bubbles’s posts have blown up—and how many they’ve actually responded to with a tip jar link or a peep my Soundcloud.

Whatever this Bubbles person is doing, it’s working. And it’s working right.

They don’t have any pictures of themselves on their page, or even as their profile picture. In fact, the most Luka finds is a silhouette of them from a nightclub, somehow darker than black and highlighted by strobes of bold, bright light. And the most he can make out of that is the rim of a pair of round glasses, and layers of thick dreadlocks.

It probably doesn’t matter. Even if he pulled off some crazed theorist thing with wild hair and enough red yarn to map out every arrondissement, he probably couldn’t have picked out glasses and dreadlocks out of a crowd on the Champ de Mars if he tried and wasn’t distracted by his own work.

But what could it hurt to say hi back?

Luka pops in his headphones, because the music is the only thing that actually lets him concentrate, and starts to type his response in the notes app on his phone. He doesn’t want to accidentally send something he hasn’t read and reread, or hasn’t even finished typing. And if Bubbles just so happens to be checking their messages, he doesn’t want to keep them waiting with all the typing and deleting and re-typing and re-deleting. He’s been on the receiving end of those eerily calm ellipses enough times to never want to subject anyone else to that. Eventually—and eventually is a long time, even for him—he comes up with something he’s actually satisfied with.

to: itsdjbubbles

hey, sorry for replying so late, i didn’t get any notification. but thanks for the compliment. it’s really cool of you to message me in the first place, i appreciate it. sorry about the cash thing, but don’t worry about it. i’d like to do it full-time someday, but it’s more of a side hustle thing for now. maybe i’ll get one of those venmo or cashapp things for people who don’t carry cash. (i mean, you’re right, who does that, anyway? it’s the 21st century.)

With a deep breath and both legs bouncing, Luka taps the SEND button. And then he decides that was an awkward place to end a message, because apparently you can read and reread and edit and re-edit, and you’ll still find every little thing wrong after you post, so he sends a follow-up message as quickly as he can.

anyway, thanks for the message. hope you’re having a good night.

Assuming Bubbles is even awake.

As soon as he puts his phone face-down in his lap, his blood runs cold with relief, and his hands start to tremble and tingle in spite of how the music still blasts in his ears. He tries to calm himself down by placing the color of each song, but after just a few of them he starts feeling that familiar buzz of sensory overload. In the end, he has to lie back and close his eyes and bask in total silence, just to get his head back on straight.

A message.

He sent a message.

His phone buzzes from its place on his stomach, and immediately he scrambles for it, squinting against the bright light of his screen. There’s a single notification.

Bubbles.

He shouldn’t already be this excited to talk to Bubbles.

from: itsdjbubbles

dude, you’re still up? don’t you have work in the morning?

from: itsdjbubbles

no but for real, you should consider sharing on other sites or picking up some other gigs if you haven’t already.

from: itsdjbubbles

like lol i know we just met and all but i know a place i DJ sometimes that’d totally like your vibe. just lmk if you’re interested?

from: itsdjbubbles

anyway, we should probably get some sleep huh. g’night!

It’s… funny. How this is all it takes for opportunity to fall into his lap.

Luka gets to his feet, a tired grin inching its way across his face, and shuffles right back to bed, another message under his thumb. Except this time, he doesn’t bother to open up his notes. If Bubbles knows he’s up, he might as well own it. Just for now.

to: itsdjbubbles

i’m going, i’m going, don’t worry, haha.

to: itsdjbubbles

yeah, i’ll think about it. why don’t you send me their info?

from: itsdjbubbles

you got it, dude.

from: itsdjbubbles

also

from: itsdjbubbles

good luck with CBG and all

from: itsdjbubbles

though from the looks of it, maybe you won’t need it??

Luka’s eyes blow wide open enough to start asking in his head, what does it mean? what does it all mean? Instead, he presses his phone to his face, because asking—and screaming—will definitely wake up his family, and types out one more reply.

to: itsdjbubbles

trust me. vaguely knowing her, i think i will.

[musicallisto]

Congrats on 800! Can I please get a a vanilla milkshake for a male ro from the wayhaven chronicles?

I'm an infp and my enneagram is 4w3 (how would you rate being a 4w3?) My hogwarts house is ravenclaw and I'm a Taurus. Im 5'9 and I have long wavy black hair and brown eyes.

It takes me a while to feel comfortable around new people but once I do I get really talkative and outgoing. I love reading, my favorite genres are fantasy and poetry. I also enjoy psychology, history and fashion. I adore adventures, witty banter, joking around and having discussions on different topics

I'd consider myself kind, empathic and smart. I love helping out and people come to me to vent or for advice and. I also love learning about new things and I've always got excellent grades without really trying. I can be quite dramatic and stubborn and I tend to be withdrawn at times. I get frustrated easily and I'm quietly competitive. I'm a bit of a hopeless romantic and I love being in love. I also have a way with words and I can talk my way out of any sticky situation!

Thank you very much, congrats once again! And I'm glad you finally did the accent challenge! The birds squawking in the distance added a very nice touch. Have a great day 🥰

thank you so much for your kind words (esp. about the accent challenge, I didn’t even realize you could hear the birds so much but I’m happy you enjoyed it)! I’m a 4w3 too, so I hope I understand your personality well - though from what you’ve described, we sound pretty similar in character! I must say that I think you and adam du mortain would make quite the nice pair...

Your first time meeting Unit Bravo is, thanks to Felix and Nate’s best efforts to put you at ease and start an agreeable companionship between all of you, pretty memorable. They are nothing but kind and welcoming from the very beginning... even Mason, in his so peculiar way.

But your relationship with Adam is a little less... warm; which is not to say that you don’t get along, but you are merely cordial to one another.

Truth to be told, you are a little bit intimidated by the vampire, by his ice-green gaze and his commanding silhouette, as though he were a stoic and impenetrable Army major... and with nine hundred years of life and war under his belt to boot.

Heavens, his eyes... were they always so bright and icy, or is it another of his vampire characteristics? And is it still only respect that you feel towards him?

The others, especially Felix, tease the both of you a lot about that so-called “tension” between the two of you. Tension that you categorically refuse to acknowledge, because it’s not real, and Felix is making things up, and there’s nothing weird or unsolved between Adam and you. Right?

But it’s true that you make one hell of a team when you’re partnered up together for rounds and nightly patrols in Wayhaven, or when you have to take on a mission for the Agency near the town. It seems as if you could understand each other perfectly, without the need for arguments or conflict...

Though Adam truly appreciates how well you express yourself. Your skill with words and negociation abilities have gotten you out of tricky situations before, and you always seem to rub people the right way, even when they’re a full pack or werewolves or other ungodly creatures.

And your eloquence reminds him of home, in a sense, or at least of all the times he’s traversed in his long, long life. It’s like you’ve always been there, by his side, even five hundred years before, murmuring exactly what he needed to hear in the crook of his neck.

Inevitably, after spending more and more time with each other on missions, he starts to let his skyhigh walls down as you progressively warm up to him.

A pretty important bonding factor is reading, because I imagine Adam is an avid reader, and he’s devoured books from all the time periods he’s lived through. Particularly classics and historical fiction, which give him a semblance of beloging to the worlds he left behind. So when he learns that you are a bookworm as well, he feels like the connection between you two has deepend. He’ll recommend you his favorite books and even tell you about the times he met some illustrious authors in the past.

It’s still the slowest of slow burns to actually give in to temptation and get in a relationship with him (I mean, this is Adam we’re talking about), but the sheer love you feel when you’re with him makes every second of the agony worth it.

He totally understands your need to be withdrawn every now and then - he feels that too, very often, and he needs some time alone in nature or surrounded by his work to recharge. He’ll totally give you whatever space you need, and always be here to give you a shoulder to lean on, or cry on should you need it, when things get rough.

He also appreciates your hopeless romantic side - contrary to what you might think, he is, in a way, kind of like that as well. Not that he’s one to make grand romantic gestures to express his affection, but he truly feels and recognizes the love and anguish he feels very viscerally, like a Shakespearian hero. But you’re here to help him externalize it all; even when he doesn’t find the words, or he’s afraid you might think it’s stupid of him to feel the way he does, you encourage him to ramble and get it all out of his system before he explodes.

He’s a bit clumsy on his feet, but if you want to share a dance, he’ll give in just for you. He’s seen countless waltzes and balls in his life, from the most powerful European courts to simple village festivities in his Medieval hometown, but nothing comes close to the peace and joy he feels when he holds you in his arms and tries his best to not step on your feet.

You’re all in all an absolute power couple, both when you’re fighting demons and just being domestic and fluffy together.

800 follower sleepover

[neerasrealm]

I loved your latest LJxReader so could we have a pt.2 please? When y/n go on a date with him? :D

Y’ALL WANT MORE??? I’M MORE THAN HAPPY TO PROVIDE! It’s actually really interesting to explore the dynamic of the creeps trying to hide the fact that they’re killers/monsters. Writing stuff like this is fun! and also LJ interacting with people he knows is just. fun. building tiny side characters is fun.

Any moment now…

Aaaaany moment now

…

AAAANNNYYY MOMENT NOWWWW-

Damn. That didn’t work? And you were so sure saying that over and over again in your head would make your date suddenly appear from thin air. Darn. 

You’re stood on a street corner, patiently waiting for your date. You look calm, but inside you’re buzzing with excitement. You’re head over heels for this guy. He’s tall, cute, funny and has the cutest accent. His smile is to die for and just thinking of it makes your stomach do flips. He’s definitely a catch, and you feel like the luckiest fisherman at the- er- dock? On the boat? I- I don’t know...this analogy is weird.

But anyway! You’re excited for this. It’s just coffee, a simple meetup, but it feels like your wedding day or something. It’s also pretty big. You’re gonna be seeing him outside of his costume for the first time. He’s a performer! And a good one at that. Just another thing that makes him amazing. 

As you’re debating texting him again, you hear someone calling your name. You look up and see him. He’s tall, with wispy black hair. He’s….still in costume. A grey crop top, bandages covering his torso, denim shorts, striped socks and sleeves, and a striped cone shaped nose. He waves at you from above the crowd and almost- slithers- his way through it and over to you. He grins as he jogs up, one of his hands tucked behind his back. You smile at him, cocking a brow. ‘’y/n!’’ he greets cheerfully.

‘’Hey Jack.’’ you look him over. ‘’You’re...still in costume?’’

‘’Huh? Oh- oh yeh, er-’’ he fidgets for a moment, rocking on his heels. ‘’Sorry abou’ tha’...I ‘ad a gig booked las’ minu’e an’ I didna wanna cancel on ye so-’’ he shrugs. ‘’Sorry.’’

Normally you would be mad. But you fell in love with this guy in his costume, so a date with him in it isn’t the end of the world. ‘’It’s fine.’’ you smile at him. He seems to relax.

‘’Ah- good, good. Er-’’ he pauses for a second and pulls his arm out from behind his back. ‘’I brough’ ye these.’’

He holds out a bouquet of the most beautiful yellow begonias you’ve ever seen. You take it from him and sniff the flowers. They smell sweet, and fresh. Your heart does flips and somersaults in your chest. You knew Jack was a sweet guy, and you already liked him a lot, but flowers? On the first date? He’s more perfect than you thought. Your smile widens to a grin. ‘’Thank you.’’ you murmur up at him. His cheeks flush pink beneath his face paint and he laughs gently. 

‘’I-i’s nofink. I’m glad ye like ‘em…’’ he rubs at his arm nervously. He’s such a sweetheart- he looks at you and smiles slightly. ‘’Er um- so- ye wanna ge’ sum coffee?’’

You nod. ‘’Coffee sounds good.’’

Jack nods back, and then holds out his hand. You take it, your fingers intertwining with his. His hand feels bony and almost...old. The bandages around his hand feel soft, and you can’t help but notice they look brighter than usual, like he just put on fresh ones. His hand is also way bigger than yours. You never noticed that before. Internally, you wonder if he is actually as tall as he is- he...seems shorter today? Or maybe you just remembered him as taller. He’s still fairly tall though, maybe 6’3. 

‘’Somefin’ wrong?’’ he looks down at you. Shit, he noticed you staring didn’t he? You blush.

‘’No, it’s nothing.’’ you smile up at him. ‘’So where are we going? Did you have a place in mind?’’

‘’Oh! Er- no- was I suppos’ta?’’ he looks worried for a second. You laugh gently.

‘’No, I just assumed you planned to take me somewhere specific.’’

‘’Hm...well- I do know this li’le place tha’s real nice. We could go there?’’

You squeeze his bony hand and nod. ‘’Lead the way.’’

The two of you walk through the city. Jack is as cheerful and funny as usual, but still extremely flustered. His cheeks stay a soft pink while he tells you funny stories from his past performances and his misadventures through the years. It seems he gets around a lot. You can’t help but admire that- Jack is the kind of person who likes to always seek out new things and go where the fun is. He’s exciting, and you love it. You can’t help but smile smugly to yourself when you realise how lucky you are to have snapped him up before someone else did.

‘’Ere we are.’’ he stops suddenly and you look up. In front of you is a small coffee shop called ‘Sherlock’s’. The sign atop the door sports a silhouette of what you assume is Sherlock Holmes. Through the window you can see racks of cakes, and plenty of people inside. The tiny shop must be awful popular. He grins at you. ‘’This place is th’ best, I’ve been comin’ ‘ere fer donkey’s ears.’’

You step inside, with Jack following you. You barely hear the bell above the door chiming over the sound of people talking. The inside is bigger than you initially thought. The walls are wooden and decorated with all kinds of knick knacks and even a book shelf over in the corner. There’s an old gramophone over in another corner playing old-fashioned music. Towards the back there’s stairs leading up to a second floor, and the entire place smells of rich coffee and freshly baked pastries.

‘’Jack!’’ 

You’re snapped back to attention by somebody calling your date’s name. A woman with frizzy black hair and glasses steps out from behind the counter. She dusts off her navy apron and rushes forward. Jack steps forward and the two of them hug tight. He chuckles at her. ‘’Ow’ya, Rosie.’’ he greets her like an old friend. She steps away from him and gives him a stern look, her hands on her hips.

‘’You haven’t been here in over a week! We were getting worried!’’ she chides. She gestures to a couple other employees behind the counter. They laugh at her and shake their heads.

‘’Ey lads.’’ Jack smiles at them before turning to Rosie again. He pats her head like she’s a child. ‘’Sorry luv. I wuz busy!’’

‘’When aren’t you busy?’’ she mutters, shaking her head. ‘’You’re going to be nothing but skin and bone if you keep avoiding us! Honestly! And what about Cody and Junior, hm? I haven’t seen those boys in forever! Not to mention Sally!’’ 

Jack laughs again. ‘’Awrigh’, awrigh’. I’ll drop in more often, I promise, an’ I’ll bring th’ boys wiv me.’’ he turns to look at you. ‘’I did bring some’ne wiv me though.’’

‘’Hm?’’ Rosie tilts her head and looks over at you. Her stern expression softens to a smile. ‘’Oh! A new friend of yours?’’

Jack laughs sheepishly. ‘’Eh- yeh, yeh,’’ he clears his throat and gestures for you to come closer. Bemused, you join him by his side. ‘’y/n, this is Rosie. I’ve known ‘er since she wuz jussa basin ‘f gravy!’’ he laughs gently. You have no idea what that means, but you shake Rosie’s hand to be polite.

‘’It’s nice to meet you.’’ you murmur. Rosie smiles.

‘’Nice to meet you too!’’ she looks up at Jack. ‘’They a new member of the family?’’

‘’Eh- er- n-nah no’ really um-’’ Jack fidgets a bit. ‘’They’re eh- me da’e.’’

Rosie looks surprised. She looks over at her other employees, who look equally surprised. ‘’Well you should have told me you’d be bringing a date here! Honestly, we would’ve reserved a table for you two and cleaned up!’’ she shakes her head. Jack blushes a darker pink.

‘’S-sorry.’’ he murmurs. Rosie shakes her head disapprovingly and looks at you. 

‘’Don’t mind him, y/n. I’ll get you both the best table in the house,’’ she smiles sweetly at you before turning around. ‘’HEY! JEREMIAH! IS THE BACK BOOTH OPEN?!’’ She screeches. The other employees don’t even bat an eye at her. A teenage boy pokes his head out from behind a wall and nods. Rosie looks at the both of you. ‘’Right then! You know where to go, Jack!’’ she chirps.

‘’Thanks Rosie.’’ Jack says with a smile. He takes your hand and leads you across the cafe. There’s a second room in the back you hadn’t even noticed. It’s small, with only a couple tables, a window and a small booth in the back. Jack gestures to the booth. ‘’After ye.’’

You take a seat. The booth’s seats are just wooden benches, and the wall juts out slightly so that you can basically hide from sight if you so wanted. Jack sits across from you and smiles.

‘’So- you come here a lot, huh?’’ you ask, looking around. 

‘’Yeh. I ‘elped Rosie star’ th’ place up! I’ took a lo’a money an’ fundraisin’, bu’ now lookit ‘er! Business is boomin’!’’

You laugh a bit. ‘’Wow.’’ so that explains why the employees treat him so nicely. He helped them start this place up...he’s even kinder than you thought! As you’re about to ask him a bit more about Rosie and the cafe, you’re interrupted by the boy from earlier, Jeremiah, placing a tray on the table. He puts a slice of chocolate cheesecake in front of both you and Jack, along with a menu. Jack looks up.

‘’Eh- Jer, we ‘aven’t ordered ye’.’’ To your surprise, Jeremiah replies via sign language. Which you don’t understand. But Jack apparently does. He laughs gently and shakes his head. ‘’Awrigh’. Tell yer ma we said thanks.’’

Jeremiah nods and walks away. You look at Jack. ‘’What’d he say?’’

‘’I’s on th’ ‘ouse,’’ he smiles at you. ‘’Rosie’s a peach.’’

Huh! Well then- you grab your fork and cut into the cheesecake and take a bite. It’s- the most delicious thing you’ve ever tasted. You blink in surprise. The crust crunches pleasantly in your mouth and is slightly salty, but the sweetness of the chocolate balances it out. The actual cream cheese part is smooth and thick, and almost melts in your mouth. You look up and realise Jack is smiling at you from across the table.

‘’I’s good, innit?’’ 

‘’This is amazing!’’ you exclaim. ‘’How come nobody told me this place has the best cheesecake around?!’’

Jack laughs. ‘’Jus’ wai’ till ye try th’ ho’ choc’la’e. I’s th’ bes’ aroun’, I promise ye tha’.’’ he looks over the menu for a second. ‘’Ye can ge’ anyfin’ ye want. I’ll pay.’’

You blink. ‘’You will?’’

‘’Yeh. Rosie gives me discounts.’’ he winks. You grin a bit.

‘’Alright then…’’ you continue eating the godly cheesecake before speaking again. ‘’So...who’re Cody and Junior?’’ you finally ask. Jack looks up.

‘’Oh! They’re eh- roommates! I live wiv a lo’a people. We all pitch in fer rent an’ all’at. Kinda like a circus, we’re one big fam’ly! ‘Xcept i'm th’ only clown there.’’ he winks at you again. You laugh. 

‘’That sounds nice, living with such a large group of people.’’ 

‘’Ehh...i’ is, bu’ i’ ge’s tirin’, ye know? I mean eh- when I tol’ every’ne I ‘ad a da’e they all kept pesterin’ me! Last time I tell any ‘f those eejits anyfin’.’’ he shake his head tiredly. You laugh again.

‘’Really?’’ you smirk. ‘’I didn’t know I’d cause such a stir…’’ under the table, you poke his leg with your foot. Jack blushes. Hard.

‘’E-eh- heh- well eh-’’ he looks away nervously, fidgeting anxiously. ‘’I’ve...never really gone on a da’e b’fore…’’

‘’Really?’’ you’re genuinely surprised. Sure his costume might be off putting, and his thick accent adds to how intimidating he is, but he’s a sweetheart and a funny guy! How come you’re the first person to ask him out?

‘’I eh- didn’ fink any’ne’d like me like tha’...I mean I-’’ he shakes his head. ‘’I dunno…’’ he laughs gently and gives you a nervous look. You soften.

‘’Well I like you.’’ you say gently. You reach over and put your hand on his. He stares at you in shock, then softens, smiling again. He laughs softly and looks you over. His gaze is soft, loving. Your heart flutters as he looks you over. Your cheeks flush red. He’s so cute...the way he smiles, the way his crystal blue eyes caress your face, the way he curls his hand around yours and squeezes it. You love him. You’re head over heels for the guy and your first date with him has only just begun!

‘’Ey y/n?’’

‘’Yeah?’’

‘’There’s choc’la’e all over yer face.’’

And it’s off to a terrible start.

[drivingsideways]

Here, have like 5.7k of not-fic, because I am *still * not writing in this fandom, god damn it. 

In which Gon is an asshole, and Tae-eul knows it. Unfortunately, that doesn’t stop Jo Yeong from wanting him.

It’s at the naval academy that Gon realizes that he is, in fact, in deep shit.

Gon is there because he’s expected to be there, Yeong-ah is there because Gon is there, and also because he’s the most stubborn 16 year old in existence, and even commanding him to stay at school and join only two years later, along with his peers hadn’t worked, probably for the first time since Gon had given him a play sword and brought an infinitely more precious thing into existence.

 Yeong had just turned up in the naval academy class in his trainee uniform, all coltish limbs and squared shoulders and defiant chin and serious eyes, and his collar more starched than even His Majesty’s and Gon had thought god damn it, but he’d also been conscious of a sense of relief. It was lonely without his shadow of almost twelve years now, and honestly, if Yeong-ah thought he could do it, who was Gon to disagree, because he knows what Yeong-ah is capable of when he’s determined.

 (Yeong-ah has the scars to prove it, and Gon has the worst night after his father’s murder to remember, the night when he sat beside Yeong’s bed as he slept off the anaesthetic, post surgical removal of a bullet from his shoulder. Yeong had taken off his service vest during combat training, apparently deciding that he needed to learn to fight through an actual bullet wound.

The idiot.

Gon had wept all night beside his bed, and raged at him in the morning, and expressly forbidden him from pulling a stunt like that ever again, and Yeong had looked at him, confusion in his dark eyes, and said blearily, his usually lovely clear voice still thickened by sleep and painkillers, but how can I be the unbreakable sword if I don’t practice?

Yeong, Gon had replied, helpless in the face of such devotion. Yeong.

 So yeah, he should have probably known that Yeong would turn up at the Academy.)

 The four years at the academy are great- actually the most freedom Gon has ever experienced, which is hugely ironic, given, it’s like, the navy; and he wants Yeong to have that too before they both return to the palace. He wants Yeong to have as normal an adolescence as he can, hang out with the guys, make friends, and who knows, maybe even date? Like, Yeong should have the delicious experience of a first kiss, her lips soft and tasting of champagne and plum-flavoured lip balm, the slim curve of her waist that fits into the slightly damp palm of your hand, and the fluttering of her eyelashes against your cheek, and the wild roaring of your heartbeat in your ears- and her almond-shaped dark eyes on yours- 

 Yeah, so, Gon wants  Yeong to have all of that and more, and he’ll do his best to arrange the world so that it will happen; what kind of elder brother would he be if he didn’t?

 So when they’re at one of the few parties that trainees- including His Majesty- are allowed into at the Naval Club, he tries to manoeuvre things suitably so that he can casually introduce Yeong to some pretty young things, at least two of whom, he’s pleased to note, have the good taste to realize how handsome and adorable Yeong is. Well, he’d best leave them alone now, trusting that nothing can stop a determined young woman who’s spotted something she wants- and in the meanwhile, he has caught sight of Ms.Kim Seo-Hyun, she of the laughing dark eyes, and the wicked mouth, and goes off to renew a very pleasant acquaintance in the shade of some conveniently placed trees. 

 It’s a while before he returns to the main ballroom, and his eyes scan for Yeong, and don’t find him. He’d half been expecting for Yeong to break in on Seo-Hyun and himself, because Yeong rarely lets Gon out of his line of sight, except for very good reasons. And hey, look at that, perhaps for once, Yeong was not thinking about protecting Gon, and was instead having a good time by himself.

 Good, he thinks, the light buzz of alcohol in his veins adding to the generally pleasant feeling, and he smiles to himself when he thinks about the fun he’ll have later, teasing Yeong about it. He stands for a minute watching the milling, chattering crowd, god, it’s warm in here. 

He finds what looks like a deserted corridor, that lines the back of the club building, and drifts down it, hand still clutching the slowly warming glass of champagne (his fourth) that he’d taken off a passing tray. 

He recognizes Yeong from his silhouette- of course he does- before he actually sees him. He’s leaning against a pillar- if such a ramrod straight posture could be termed leaning - and he seems to be in conversation with someone opposite him, who’s entirely in shadow, thanks to a pillar and a large leafy potted plant. The clouds clear at that moment, and the moon comes out, and Yeong is smiling, actually smiling, with his teeth and everything, the smile softening the sharp cut of those cheekbones, and the sight stops Gon in his tracks, because Yeong rarely smiles, Gon should know, Gon has worked harder at winning those smiles than at any mathematical problem, but here’s Yeong, smiling at someone who isn’t Gon. 

 He should probably leave- after all, he doesn’t want to embarass Yeong or accidentally crash their rendezvous- but for some reason he can’t move. He can’t move, and he can only watch as the person opposite, comes out the shadow- and that-that is not a girl- no, that’s another cadet, and he’s crossing the two feet between him and Yeong, and now he’s leaning in, a little, one hand coming to rest over Yeong’s shoulder on the pillar behind, while the other comes up to tilt Yeong’s face toward his, and Yeong’s eyes are dark, unfathomable pools, but he’s leaning in, his eyelashes fluttering shut, and then-

No, thinks Gon, No. 

He’s mine. 

And then, appalled, fuck.

 He manages to stumble away without being seen- the other two are too busy-  and listen, it’s not for nothing he’s been trained since childhood to wear an armour of charm and stoic politeness no matter the provocation, and he calls on every lesson he’s ever learnt from endlessly boring state dinners, and even more uninteresting briefings, and manages to get through the rest of the evening without doing what he wants to- destroy every single glittering, happy smile in sight- and grab Yeong’s hand and run. 

 Because Yeong would go along, if he did. Yeong would follow, like he always did, and if Gon- if Gon ever asked him- then Yeong would, of course he would, because Yeong has never ever not given Gon anything he’s asked for, not since he was four and Gon had bought him with a few thoughtless words, said mostly in jest, just so the little boy would stop crying like that, as though it was his world that had ended, and not Gon’s. 

 He lasts the evening, and the next two years, and he never asks Yeong about that night, or any of the nights after, and Yeong never volunteers the information. There’s a part of Gon that’s resentful, that wants to scream, do you trust me so little, do you think I’d love you less because you’re gay, and there’s a part of him that’s glad Yeong never tells him, because if it were- out there- between them, then Gon might become weak one day, and ask, after all, and no, it’s best that it remains unsaid, and it’s fine, it’s FINE. 

 He has Yeong in all the most important ways; he has his time, and his devotion, and his quiet, dry wit that he rarely displays to anyone except Gon, and he has Yeong’s touch, even- Yeong reaching out to pull him up from the floor after beating his ass at taekwondo, Yeong brushing lint off his shoulder after he’s dressed for one of those stupid dinners, the brush of his knuckles against Gon’s suddenly dry throat as Yeong adjusts his tie, the press of Yeong’s shoulders against his as they sit side-by-side watching The Seven Samurai for the forty-seventh time. He has Yeong’s face peering into his as he shakes him awake for the 4 am drill, and he has Yeong’s disapproving frown when he discovers Gon has skipped both lunch and dinner because he got lost in reading this brilliant new paper by Maryam Mirzakhani, Yeong, you don’t understand, the woman is a fucking genius, and god, why is it spinach today, why, Yeong, you’re so cruel to me. 

 They graduate, and then it’s back at the palace, and they slip back into its routines and confinements, and if he applied to the Pope for canonization, surely, he’d get it, because Gon deserves it.

 It’s been ten years since that awful, life-altering realization, and every hour since then has been a lesson in restraint and abject self-denial in the face of the loveliest and most every day of temptations:  to kiss the curve of Yeong’s quiet smiles and run his finger along the sharp blade of his cheekbones; to trace the shell of his ear, and turn fully into the warm heat of his body, that’s always, always within reach, and if Gon ever asked-

Gon doesn’t ask. 

 Then he’s transported to a parallel universe and meets Tae-Eul  and Eun-sup and she introduces him to things like half-and-half and also asks him questions like “what kind of king are you?”, things he has no real answer for, and it’s nice- it’s nice to be able to be honest with someone, to have them treat you like you’re a weirdo, but not like, a royal weirdo, and though he jokes about it with her, one day she says, suddenly, “You can be anyone you want to be here and you’re telling me that you choose to be some stick-in-the mud blueblood?”

She snorts, inelegant, and comfortable within her skin, and that’s when he realizes-

And alright, he has to sell a couple of more diamonds and some rare gold artefacts to arrange it, but then it’s done- he gets to resurrect Lee Ji-hun. Lee Ji-hun is just some guy here, a musician, not a mathematician, living a quiet, ordinary life in a moderately posh neighbourhood.  

 (Tae-eul contests his definition of “moderately posh” when she walks into his large fully furnished studio apartment, all floor-to-ceiling windows, and polished dark-wood floor, but listen, he wouldn’t be able to pull it off if he had to live in actual poverty, sorry, but he has limits. Tae-Eul gives him a distinctly unimpressed look, but probably agrees about his limits, he thinks.

 “You should be a lawyer or a tax consultant instead” she says, touching the beautiful grand piano he’s installed. “They’re rich”.

“Ugh, boring. Musicians aren’t rich here?”

Tae-Eul sighs, “Not ones as mediocre as you” she mutters

“I have never been mediocre at anything in my life”.

“Who told you that, Your Majesty?”)

  The reason he gives her for this entire project is that he wants to draw Lee Lim out into the open, but it’s not just him, but that part he never tells Tae-Eul. He’s told her all about Yeong of course, about his unbreakable sword , and she gives him one of her penetrating looks and says, abrupt, people are not things , and he feels himself flush to the roots of his hair

 I just meant, it’s not like that,  he stumbles, and stops. 

There’s an awkward pause. 

Then she says, quietly, I forget how different your world is. 

 And that’s it, isn’t it?  Here he can be anyone, and if he can be anyone, then he doesn’t have to be Yeong’s lord, and he can be Yeong’s equal, perhaps, and - and- but he doesn’t let himself hope for more. Equal. Friend, perhaps. If that’s all it can be, then that’s enough. 

 So he tells Yeong, who’s been quietly going crazy, he knows, what with Gon’s strange behaviour and disappearances,  about the parallel world, and Yeong says, sharp, and agonized- don’t go where I can’t follow - 

I’m not, he reassures Yeong, and then takes him through the portal. 

He introduces Yeong to Tae-Eul, and then to Eun-sup, and enjoys the mutual horror of the latter meeting very much. Seeing them together is just one more reminder of how much he loves his Yeong, though Eun-sup is adorable- everything about him loose and loud and in the open- in contrast to Yeong’s grave eyes and buttoned cuffs and ramrod spine, and that twist to the corner of his mouth that indicates that he’s suffering at the realization that his doppelganger is a complete goof, and god, Gon should probably stop staring so openly at Yeong, before someone realizes that he’s half a breath away from pressing Yeong against a wall and ruining him.

 He thinks he’s rather given himself away though, the way Tae-Eul is looking at him, something startled and then thoughtful in her eyes.

Yeong is incredibly suspicious of everything about Tae-Eul, though Gon tries to talk him out of it.

Why are you so determined to defend her, Yeong asks, sounding bewildered. 

She and I are bound by fate, Gon replies, quietly. I know it in my heart, just like I know she’s a good person.

He doesn’t quite understand the look in Yeong’s eyes then- a flash of something- so quickly gone that he might have missed it, if he hadn’t been used to watching Yeong all the time. 

But Yeong nods, once, and then says, in his brusque way, “What do you need me to do?”

Enter Lee Ji-hun. 

He gives Yeong the same story that he gives Tae-Eul, except that he doesn’t tell Yeong that there is no Lee Ji-Hun, because his bastard uncle had made sure of that. 

Find a way to befriend him, he tells Yeong instead, and stay by his side here, and if Lee Lim turns up, you have my permission to behead him.

Yeong gives him a dry look.

I don’t think it works like that here, Your Majesty, he says.

He’s my subject, says Gon, and he can’t quite keep a lid on the vicious hate that bubbles up from where he’s buried it all these years, and I am the law.

Yeong is silent for a minute, and then asks, how long?

Tae-Eul and he have worked out some kind of plausible back story for Lee Ji-hun

Anyways, he regurgitates it to Yeong, adding the necessary flourishes when needed, (“He’s supposed to be one of the best pianists in the country!”) who looks increasingly sceptical.

“Well?” Gon demands.

“I don’t see how I’m going to befriend him” Yeong gripes. “It’s not like I can play an instrument”.

Not to worry, Gon and Tae-eul have a plan for that too, though essentially their plan is to move Yeong, ex-military captain, now into private security, into the apartment opposite.

“Ex-military can afford this kind of apartment here?” Yeong asks, incredulous, while Gon narrows his eyes at him.

“Private security pays good money” Tae-Ul offers and gives Gon a look.

Hmm, says Yeong, and then proceeds to strip-search every bit of the apartment while Tae-eul gawks at him.

Gon thinks it’s adorable.

 So begins the most exhausting cat and mouse game that Gon has ever played with himself.

He’s just wondering how to arrange for a ‘chance meeting’ with Yeong- in the lift perhaps? (because he’s sure that despite everything, Yeong would probably take days to make a first move, and Gon simply doesn’t have that time in his schedule. As it is, working it out so that he gets at least four hours of sleep out of 24 has been an absolute nightmare.)

Anyways, he’s still musing on it, when there’s a knock on the door, and he opens it to the sight of Yeong in a half-sleeved t-shirt and loose trackpants and a really sweet smile, asking whether he can borrow some sugar.

Gon nearly expires on the spot, because for years now, even when training, Yeong wears full sleeved shirts with high necks, and this- this- excuse for clothing even has a v-neck, dipping down, and Gon unsubtly tracks the miles of skin between the hollow of his throat and where the dip of it ends, feeling a little like he’s been run over by a train, and he would really like to know why Yeong felt the need to dress like a total harlot to ask a stranger for a half-cup of sugar.

His silence has Yeong back away, with an awkward look.

“I’m sorry if I disturbed you sir” he says, and it’s so stiff and formal, and it snaps Gon out of his idiocy.

“Oh no..not at all…sorry” he says, “I was just…” he snatches around wildly for a plausible reason, “I was just distracted by this piece of music I was composing!”

(what?)

“Oh” says Yeong, “You’re a musician”.

“Please do come in” Gon says, “And allow me to make up for my rudeness by welcoming you with a cup of tea? Coffee?”

“Tea” says Yeong, another surprise, because his Yeong doesn’t touch the stuff, but will drink gallons of coffee.

“Nice” says Yeong, as he looks around the apartment with its modernist furniture, so unlike what they back at home, and the way he says it, so deliberately polite and fake, makes Gon hide a smile.

He walks to the piano while Gon gets the kettle going.

“So you’re a pianist”?

“Yes” Gon replies, easily, “What do you do?”

“I was in the army” Yeong says.

“Which division?” asks Gon, just to be a little shit.

“88th” Yeong replies, lying through his teeth.

Gon is proud of him.

“I’m with a private security firm now” he adds, conscientiously.

“Celebrities?”

Yeong shrugs, another strange gesture, “Mostly corporates” he answers. “It pays well”.

“I don’t suppose I could pay you to protect me” Gon says, smiling.

“Do you need protection”? Yeong’s eyes on him are sharp as he walks slowly toward the kitchen area.

Gon runs his hand through his hair, messing it up, and Yeong’s eyes grow sharper.

Gon had tried to comb it differently, to maintain some illusion of difference, but he’d probably ruined it, he realizes.

“Not really” he says, giving Yeong a sheepish smile. “It’s just that I’m new to Seoul so I could do with some help getting around the place”

“I’m new too” Yeong says, because that’s the story they had agreed to.

“Hey, perhaps we could figure it out together” says Gon, cheerfully. He sticks out a hand. ”Deal?”

Yeong gives him that smile again, and Gon wants to- wants to-

“Deal” says Yeong, taking his hand in a firm, familiar clasp.

 Gon explains away the reasons he stays at home, mostly- “Decided to give myself a break for a month, to settle in”- over tea and then over dinner (it’s not a bother, I was going to make some anyway), they chat about nothing and everything; the good thing is that Gon knows he needn’t worry too much about being “found out” by some inappropriate reference- at this point Yeong doesn’t know much about this world either. Honestly, it’s a piece of cake.

“The Seven Samurai” he says, unthinking, to a question about his favourite movie, and Yeong stares at him for a moment, before looking down into his bowl, and murmuring, “Mine too”.

“We should watch it together sometime then!” says Gon brightly, “I’m due for my annual rewatch anyway”

Yeong gives him a strained smile.

It goes pretty well for two days; Gon pretending he doesn’t see Yeong tag him all around his deliberate tour of the most unsuspicious places, and then in the evening, when Yeong’s gone back to his apartment, after being well dined-and-wined, Gon sneaks out and heads back through the portal, and spends half the night signing papers and reading reports, before he comes in before dawn back to his apartment.

On the third day, Tae-eul asks him to meet her after dinner.

“I’m going to be late” he tells her, already looking at his watch as he approaches her.  “There’s a mountain of paperwork waiting for me back home”.

“What the fuck, Lee Gon???!!!” she yells, and Maximus whinnies in distress.

He steps back, surprised.

“What do you mean?”

“Why haven’t you told Yeong that there’s no real Lee Ji-hun” she hisses at him. “What.The.Fuck.”

He pales.

“How did you find out?”

“Because I’m not an idiot and I’m a detective” she snaps.

“Have you been wiretapping us?” he gasps, outraged.

She snorts, “God you really have no idea about privacy and rule of law, do you? No, you idiot, Yeong called me to dig up more info on Lee Ji-Hun, and as you can imagine, I was curious why he would need to do that!!!!”

“Ah”.

“Yes”.

She ties her hair up, pulling the knot tight.

“Go on” she snaps, “Explain yourself! Do you suspect him of being a traitor?”

“What?! NO! Of course not!”

“Then why this whole game?”

“It’s not a game” he says quietly. “I-you said it yourself- I can be someone else here. I can be someone that- that- Yeong might- love-“

Tae-eul gapes at him

“Even a blind man can see that he already loves you!” she exclaims. “What the hell are you talking about?!”

“He loves the king he was given to”  Gon says, miserable. “I want him to love the man”.

She closes her open mouth with a snap.

“You know” she says, her voice taking on a conversational tone. “In a shittier story, you and I would be the ones falling madly in love, you with your I’ve waited twenty- five years to meet you and tallness and your face and your horse and everything. As if me, a girl from a middle-class family who works her ass off trying to protect law and order, would fall for someone like you, who literally thinks he’s the law and whose idea of “living in poverty” would keep one hundred families fed for a year. And that’s even before this bit of assholery.”

He sits down on the bench with a thump, and says, weakly, “At least we’re not in that story?”

“No” she concedes, with a small sigh. “No, we’re just in a slightly upgraded, but still shitty version where the lone female character is there to knock some sense into the heads of two emotionally dense male characters and keep them from doing something irredeemably stupid, like, oh, I don’t know, ruin the most important relationship in their life because they don’t know how to be functioning adults in a relationship?!”

“Tae-eul” he says, “I can’t-“

“Why not?” she says, “Why can’t you just tell him you’re in love with him?”

“Because I’m his king!” He yells, jumping to his feet.

“I’m his king, and he’s devoted his entire life to me, and he’s never said no to anything I’ve ever asked, and I can’t ask him this- I won’t—"

She stares up at him.

“And when he finds out?” she says, softly. “What then? Or do you think he never will?”

He shakes his head, and sits back down, covering his face with his hands.

“What then?” she asks, relentless. “What happens once we’ve figured this out and caught Lee Lim- how are you going to divide yourself then?”

“I don’t know” he says, muffled. “I don’t know. I haven’t figured it out yet. I just- I just want some time-some memories-“

“Lee Gon” she says, and she’s back to being kind, even if her words are painfully blunt. “Don’t be a fool. Tell him now before it gets more complicated”.

“No” he says, “No.Tae-eul. I know you can’t understand me or agree with me. But no. I won’t, I can’t give this up—”

Because it’s only been two days, and he’s already used to Yeong’s smiles, and his surprisingly strong opinions about ice-skating, and the way he pauses for a minute, inhaling the scent of his tea before sipping it. He’s used to Yeong sprawled loose limbed, on his couch as they argue about the which team should take the league cup, and hopping around in agony when Ji-hun tries out a new ramen recipe and spice, eyes streaming, and the stillness with which he sits , while Ji-hun plays the first movement of the moonlight sonata, and his eyes when he says, softly, “that was beautiful”.

The last ten years- the last ten years have been an arid desert compared to this- because he’s constantly been on his guard, always being careful not to let his feelings show, trying his damnedest to be the brother and king that Yeong thinks of him as, and Yeong had- Yeong had been the same, he realizes now. Yeong had maintained a distance too- the distance between a liege and knight, even one who was like a brother.

And now the rains have come, and things are sprouting green and wonderful and fresh, and Gon wants to let it grow into a garden, lush and colourful, for whatever time he has.

He wants to wander around this new, strange city with Yeong, discovering its sight and tastes and sounds and smells, and then, tired and happy, he wants to take him home and curl up with him, and he knows- he knows it in his marrow- that it could happen- that he could make Yeong his, really his- if only, if only he had the goddamn time—

“I have to go” he says, dully, rising to his feet.

She nods in silence and watches him leave.

 So that’s what he does, for the next two weeks, wandering between worlds, sleep deprived and bone tired, and the happiest he has been in a decade, Yeong by his side.

He thinks- he hopes desperately- that Yeong is happy too.

In the third week, he shows up as Lee Gon to meet Yeong.

Yeong is in his dark suit, with his collar buttoned.

“Your Majesty” he says, bowing.

They’re in a small diner, nobody looks at them.

If they did, what would they see, Gon wonders.

Would they wonder who these two men are, what their relationship is; one of them relaxed against the cheap faux leather of his seat, while the other sits up straight, tension in every line of his body.

“Relax, Yeong” he murmurs, leaning forward, putting his elbows on the table. “You’ll make people stare”.

It’s almost painful, watching Yeong make the effort.

“Your Majesty” Yeong says, quietly, “Are you well?”

“As you see” he says, with a small shrug. “I’m perfectly fine”.

Yeong’s eyes search his.

It’s fine, Gon has learnt to hide from Yeong.

“How’s Lee Ji-Hun?” he asks.

“Not in any danger” says Yeong, and picks up his coffee mug, taking a deep swallow.

He doesn’t volunteer anything more.

“What is he like?” Gon asks, because he has to know.

Yeong sighs, and then looks up, meeting his gaze.

“Sometimes I think he’s you” Yeong says, “Sometimes”.

Gon feels his heartbeat speed up.

“In what way?”

“He has your face”

“What else?”

“Your Majesty” Yeong says, “I think it’s time I went home”.

“Lee Lim could…”

“Lee Lim is more likely to make an attempt in Corea” Yeong argues, “He’s not interested in Lee Ji-hun, why would he be?”

“Why do you want to go home?” Gon asks, abrupt.

“Because you’re there” Yeong replies, and it sounds- sounds so simple- when he states it like that, and Gon is sick to his stomach.

“You’ll stay here” Gon says, “As long as I want you to”.

Yeong stares at him, the hurt in his eyes obvious.

“Yes, Your Majesty”.

 Later that night, after Gon has- dismissed – Yeong, and taken a long, miserable, lonely walk, he lets himself into the studio. A warm shower might help, he thinks, tired and heart aching.

He’s just pulled on his pajamas and a t-shirt, when there’s a knock on the door.

It’s Yeong.

He’s back to his casual attire, and seems to have showered too, after his meeting with His Majesty.

“Let’s watch Seven Samurai” he says, as he brushes past Gon, not waiting for an acceptance. “I’m in the mood for a movie”.

“Uh” says Gon, befuddled.

There’s one part of him that’s relieved to have Yeong- any Yeong- with him, there’s another that thinks, desperate, I can’t do it anymore, I can’t-

They watch it in silence for a while, sitting two feet apart, Gon with his feet curled up, and Yeong sitting oddly straight, hands in his lap- as if-

Gon thinks there’s an odd tension between them, but he can no longer trust his own emotions and he wants- that’s all he is now, he thinks, a creature stitched of want and weariness-

“Yeong” he says.

Yeong’s dark eyes are on his.

He reaches out a hand and covers Yeong’s hands with it.

Yeong’s sharp inhale, and his exhale are swallowed as their mouths come together.

“Yeong” he moans, after a minute, and his wants and needs are expanding every moment like the universe, and if Yeong doesn’t- doesn’t-

But Yeong does.

He pushes Gon down on the couch and clambers over him, his mouth already red and wet with Gon’s kisses, his eyes burning into Gon’s, and his hands tugging at Gon’s t-shirt.

Gon grabs his wrists.

“Bed” he gasps, and he’s a little shocked at how high and needy it sounds. “I want you to-I need you to-“

Yeong stills.

Please, Gon whispers, and he’s not above begging, he’s not above getting on his knees-

Yeong slides off his legs and gets to his feet, looking down at Gon.  

For a moment they stay frozen like that, Yeong’s wrists locked in Gon’s grip, and all the air in the room is gone, Gon, thinks, lightheaded.

Then Yeong breaks his grip, easy, like he’s trained to do, and he’s hauling Gon up by his hand instead, and into his arms, and then they’re stumbling toward the bed, barely six feet away, clothes flying in all directions as they try to do several things at once, and Gon’s not being kissed, he’s being devoured, he thinks helpless, as he falls into the bed with Yeong above him, something fierce and intent in his eyes, and it reminds Gon of that time they went bungee jumping, the roaring in his ears, the wild thudding of his heart, and sensation of falling, falling, falling, but Yeong’s there to catch him, as he always has been, and always will be.

 Afterward, Gon kisses the top of his spine, and nuzzles at the soft skin under his ear, curled sleepy and content around Yeong, hands splayed across Yeong’s rib cage.

Yeong sighs.

Slowly, his body relaxes against Gon’s and his breathing evens out.

 In the morning, Yeong is already dressed when Gon wakes up, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Do you have to go so early?” he rasps out. “I’ll make you breakfast”.

Yeong’s smile is apologetic.

“Sorry” he says, “Can’t stay”.

Gon blinks up at him.

“Oh” he says.

“Will I see you this evening?”

Yeong says, quietly, “There’s another matter I have to attend to”.

Gon nods.

This is Yeong trying to let him down gently, he realizes.

“Alright” he says, and oh, is this what heartbreak is, this quiet shattering, surely there should be more noise, “Alright”.

 Of course, he does see Yeong that night, except that it’s as Lee Gon, as himself.

It seems he needs some reminding of that fact.

“Your Majesty”.

Gon has chosen a place that Yeong and Lee Ji-hun had been to just last week, talking and laughing for hours over food and beer.

It’s cruel; he consoles himself that the cruelty is directed toward himself, for Yeong obviously doesn’t care.

He sits, straight-backed and prim as ever.

“How was your day?” Gon asks, eyes on the menu. “Anything new to report?”

When there’s silence, he looks up.

“I’ve compromised the mission” Yeong says, quietly. “I slept with Lee Ji-hun”.

Gon stares.

Whatever else he’d expected from Yeong, it wasn’t this.

“Why?” he says, and it doesn’t matter that his voice comes out strangled.

“Because he has your face” Yeong says, still in that quiet voice,  “Because sometimes, he’s you, and I was greedy, and tired of wanting, but not having, and I couldn’t help myself”.

“Yeong”.

“Is it treason?” Yeong whispers, “To want you like this?”

Gon swallows hard.

“You know” he says, and his voice wobbles, a little,  “There’s sencha at the palace too, but you never drink it there. Why?”

Yeong’s face does too many things for him to parse.

 “Why?”

“I was greedy, and tired of wanting, but not having, and I couldn’t help myself”.

“You never asked” Yeong says, and it sounds like he’s bleeding. “Don’t you know there’s nothing I would deny you?”

“That” says Gon, softly, “was the problem. I wanted you to want me”.

“You are not a soul divided” Yeong says, “not to me”.

Gon nods.

“I know” he says, “but I feel like that. Sometimes. All the time”.

“Gon”

It’s the first time that Yeong has called him that, the first time since they were children, and Gon had stupidly bought a soul without thinking of the consequence.

His name in Yeong’s mouth sounds like that’s where it was always meant to be.

He places his hand on the table, palm turned upward.

“Yeong” he says, “Forgive me”.

Yeong takes his hand and presses a kiss to his palm, and then turns it over, and kisses his ring, the one that means lord, master, king.

His dark eyes are not as unfathomable as Gon had thought, after all.

Gon exhales shakily.

“Alright” he says, “Alright”.

Their fingers tangle and stay that way, while they smile at each other, foolish, and Gon thinks, surely, everybody must be staring, how inconceivable for it to be any other way, when he feels like he’s been lit up from the inside by a thousand suns.

But no one is.

After a minute, Gon says, “Eun-sup told me the japchae here is pretty good as well”.

“Eun-sup” says Yeong, “knows nothing”.

[howlingday]

REAPING OF ATLAS 3/3

RWBY Characters Are Created And Owned By Rooster Teeth And Monty Oum.

Team REAPS And All Original Characters In It's Universe Are Created And Owned By @dark-chocolate-fudge-sweetracer

"Are we there yet?" Sandy whined as she and her team were led down the mantle sidewalk. She shivered as another of Solitas' famous tundra winds blew down the street. Sure, the streets were Dust-heated, but that provided little comfort to the girl. "We've been walking for hours!"

"Not yet, just a few more blocks!" Prism cheerily answered. "And we've only been walking for twenty minutes."

"Well, it feels like hours!" Sandy complained again.

"Sandy, do us all a favor and stop whining." Acacia groused. "You think you're cold? I'm part snake! So unless you're secretly a frog faunus, I suggest you stuff it!"

"Acacia, stop yelling at Sandy!" Echidna scolded, to which Sandy responded by sticking her tongue out at the chastised girl. "And Sandy, stop acting like a child. We're Huntresses in training. Show that you deserve that title." Sandy shrunk back at her chiding.

Reizo chuckled at his team's antics. "I'm glad to see everyone else is excited about today. Prism is finally showing off her upgrades."

"Not just mine, but ours! I also took the liberty of bringing your weapons in already."

"You took our weapons?!" Sandy shrieked. "When?! How?! Why?!"

"To answer in order," Prism began, holding up her index finger, "1, a few weeks ago; 2, I used the teleporter in our bathroom; and 3, to make some much needed improvements."

"Improvements like what?!" Sandy barked. "My weapon is-"

"An outdated piece of tech that was only improved by a forge, not a lab." Prism finished. "I can't make improvements to our gear with fire and stone by itself."

"You could have asked." Reizo commented, stopping to wait for the street barrier to come up.

"I did ask!" Prism defended.

"Who?"

"Acacia! She said she was cool with it!"

"I did." Acacia admitted. "She asked if she could make improvements to my gear, and I said yes."

"See?!" Prism stated as the street barrier came up. She walked backwards to defend herself face-to-face. "I asked!"

"Did you ask all of us?"

"Erk!" Prism almost fell over the curb, but Reizo caught her. "Phew! Thanks, I-" prism stopped as she noticed how close to him she was. She blushed as her heart beat a thousand miles a minute. She jumped back once she was steady. "Sorry, I-"

"Try to be more careful next time." Reizo said, walking past her. "And ask all of us next time." Echidna gave a quick glare as she passed, while Acacia and Sandy giggled between each other.

"Oh, shut up."

Ten minutes later, Team REAPS arrived in front of Doctor Polendina's front door. Prism knocked on the door three times, then stepped back. A few minutes later, a screen above the door came to life. On it, the wrinkled face of gray-bearded man appeared. "Hello?"

"Hi, Pietro! It's me!" Prism waved at the screen. "I brought my team, like I said. Are the weapons ready?"

"Oh, yes," he replied with a smile, "they just got done going through the polisher."

"They are combat ready!" A voice off-screen shouted.

"Uh, who was that?" Reizo asked.

"Uh, nobody! Don't worry about it!" Prism shouted defensively "Uh, we're coming in, Doc!"

"Alright, I'll meet you inside!" The screen turned off, and there was a click at the door. It slid up, reaveling a dark corridor into the unknown.

"Right this way!" Prism bravely stepped forward, into the darkness.

Reizo let out a sigh. "No way through it, but to do it." He stepped forward, followed closely by Acacia, then Echidna, ending with Prism bringing up the rear, shivering from the cold. And nothing else.

The building smelled sterile, like a hospital, but strangely with less life in it. Prism rounded one corner, then another, and then down one final corridor with bright light at the end of it. As they neared it, they finally saw a room bathed in white, fluorescent light, with shelves of dozens of technical manuals and mathematical textbooks. In the center "stood" a large, elderly man in a seat with six legs.

The legs walked forward, surprising everyone but Prism, who continued forward to stand beside the man. "Everyone, meet Doctor Pietro Polendina, my personal hero, lab partner, and robotics expert!"

"Oh, I wouldn't say expert, but it is a pleasure to finally meet all of you." He reached his hand forward. "Please, call me Pietro."

Reizo shook his hand. "Reizo Yamato."

Echidna followed suit. "Echidna Bluewaters."

Acacia just stayed back, half-saluting him. "Acacia Evergreen."

"Sixy Mythleg-" Sandy gasped. "I mean, Sandy Mythril!" Pietro laughed. "I'm so sorry!"

He waved it off. "No need to worry. This was just the result of an unfortunate circumstance, much like your slip-up. But, if you don't mind, I'd like you all to meet my daughter."

"S-So soon?!" Prism yelped. "B-But she's not-"

"She is. I trust her, but more importantly, I trust your team." He pressed a button on his seat, talking into a speaker. "You can come out now, dear."

The team turned around at the sound of footsteps approaching from the dark, and saw piercing green eyes. As they got closer, Reizo squinted past the light and saw the figure's silhouette form. The figure became clearer as they approached, taking the shape of a teenage girl with long hair, a large skirt (or wide hips), and a bow atop their head. The team gasped as they saw her.

"No way..." Echidna muttered.

"It can't be..." Acacia gawked.

"It's you..." Sandy said.

"But I thought you-"

"Sal-u-tations, friends!" Penny cheered. Everyone in the room was silent. Pietro had a simple smile, Prism a nervous one, Reizo and Echidna gawked with mouths agape while Echidna covered her mouth. Sandy, however, made the first contact, leaping into Penny. "Greetings, Sandy!"

"Penny!" Sandy wailed through her tears. "I missed you!"

"I have missed your presence as well, Sandy!" Sandy wrapped her arms around Penny's waist, to which Penny reciprocated by wrapping her arms around her. The others approached and joined in hugging their resurrected friend. Penny shut her eyes with a soft smile. "I have missed you."

After countless questions answered and stories swapped, Prism stepped forward and cleared her throat. "All right, everybody! Listen up!" She barked. "I'm just as glad Penny is back as much as everyone else, but she's not why we're here." She recieved a few angry glares from her teammates, and a dejected look from Penny. Prism coughed into her fist and corrected herself. "Though she is an added bonus." Penny looked up with a wide smile. "We're here because our weapons weren't going to cut it anymore. Beacon was a colossal failure on all fronts. Especially our skills. We've had our victories because of luck, and nothing else. That's why we were long overdue for an upgrade, one that requires more than just a forge."

A screen descended from the ceiling as a table rose from the center of the room. On the screen was an image of the real deal on the table: Reizo's katana. It's grip looked cleaner, the old and worn leather and fabric replaced with newer material. The blade remained unchanged, but there were holes added into the hilt. Reizo walked forward and picked it up, giving a few practice swings. He noticed the grip was extended as well.

"Your katana was a tricky task to overcome, since you value the blade so much." Prism explained. "So I removed the blade while I worked on the hilt and grip. The leather and fabric have been replaced with a hide that is seven percent more resilient, and a wool more durable than any linen made in Mistral. The added holes in the hilt allow you to load dust coins into your blade more easily, and if you flip the switch on the bottom," Reizo did so, allowing an empty cartridge to fall out, "you have twenty-five percent more storage space than before!" Prism beamed with pride. "So, what do you think?"

"Well, the grips a bit too long for me."

Prism frowned. "So?"

"I'm not used to long grips. It makes it more difficult to handle with one hand."

"Well, look at it this way," Pietro stepped in, "you're still growing, and this give you more room to improve as your body grows. By the time you're a Huntsman, that long grip will fit nicely into your one hand, and you'll be more adept in the event you need a longer grip."

"Like so!" Prism pressed a button near the hilt, and the grip doubled in length, sliding out an additional length hidden within. Reizo almost fell over. As he fought for balance, Prism walked over to the next screen and table that appeared, showing off Echidna's staff. Her staff's half-moon blade shape now had a smaller blade, shaped like a diamond, between the two originals. Strangely, however, there were five bottles set in a row around the staff. "And here, we have Echidna's staff, equipped with an extra blade, a longer chain, and a few other things I'm sure you'll want to try out!"

Echidna picked up the bottle, though jar was probably more fitting, since it more resembled a soda can, with her small, delicate hands struggling to grip half the jar. It had two metal rings forming borders. "What are these?"

"Put it on your hand, like this!" Prism demonstrated with her palm open and facing up. Echidna took the bottle-can and placed it in Prism's palm she winced and exhaled as the device began filling with a strange, yellow liquid. Prism hissed as she held up the bottle, visibly tired. "Ta da."

"What did you do?!" Sandy asked, worry clear on her face.

"W-Weaponized aura." Prism blinked hard, shaked her head, and began to slowly recover. "After your fight with Bree, I figured you'd want to be able to trick her again without using up so much of your aura." She looked at the bottle. "Of course, mine is just heat, so tossing it would just make a small explosion. Great for a distraction, but unfortunately, my aura reserves aren't the highest."

"Thank you, Prism." Echidna grabbed another bottle. "Are these easy to make?"

Prism carefully walked to the next weapon set. "Yup, but don't go throwing them away after a fight. I might be able to remake them, but they won't be cheap!" On the table, with diagrams flashing on the screen overhead, sat Acacia's tonfas.

"They look the same." Acacia tilted her head as she lifted one of her tonfas, examining it for anything significantly different.

"Yeah, there wasn't much to improve," Prism admitted, "not externally, anyways."

Acacia gave her a look. "What do you mean?"

"Well, the only thing I improved was it's firepower. Shooting this thing redefines the term "handcannon" now!"

Acacia chuckled. "Nice!"

"Of course it's most vital function is still hidden." Prism whispered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing!" Prism scurried to the final table, which held the dual-blade boomerang of Sandy's weapon. "Now this was my toughest challenge yet! Mostly because I had to make a lot of upgrades."

"What? My weapon is perfect!" Sandy defended.

"Maybe for a beginner, but we're third years now. We need stronger weapons, and I'm the smith to get it done!"

"What could you have possibly improved on?" Sandy crossed her arms indignantly.

Prism gave a haughty laugh. "You really think you weapon was the best, huh? Well, let me show you better than that!" Prism unloaded upgrade details on rapid-fire at Sandy. "The blade is now sharp enough to cut through steel; the bow string now has a tensile strength of over a thousand pounds per square inch; the hilt is made of a finer fabric that not only resists moisture, but is soft to the touch; the boomerang operates on an anti-gravity matrix-"

"Wait!" Sandy shoved a hand into Prism's face. "What was that last part?"

Prism removed Sandy's hand. "The anti-gravity matrix?"

"Yeah, what do you mean by that?!"

"This." Prism tapped a button on the boomerang. It clicked as a light humming was heard from it. Sandy stared with wide eyes as Prism lifted her hand, and the boomerang followed. "I've been doing research on Atlas' anti-gravity formulas. I couldn't find anything for the city itself, but what I could find led me to the invention of my own anti-grav dust crystal!" She showcased her creation by having the boomerang turn to on it's side, giving everyone a peek into the thin slots where the dust crystals were stored. "They last longer and give off more power than anything the SDC makes!"

"Will you sell it to them?" Echidna asked.

"Pfft! As if!" Prism rolled her eyes. "As if any of those Schnees could appreciate such fine craftsmanship. They'd just cut corners and blame their failures on me, like they always do with geniuses." Prism crossed her arms. "It's like my grandma always said, "Never trust businessmen like the Schnees."

"Oh, and what of soldiers?" Winter Schnee asked, casting a cold glare over Prism's shoulder. Prism slowly turned her head with a shiver, then turned back forward when she met her icy gaze. "Well? I'm waiting."

Uh, I, you see, that is, um..." Prism shrank as she failed to articulate her argument. "I'm sorry?"

"Don't be." Winter said. "Businessmen like Jacques Schnee can never be trusted. However, not all Schnees are terrible. I can think of three in my family who excelled in their fields." Winter stepped forward toward the rising center table, which had nothing on it but a keypad. "For now, however, let us return to business. You said you had something to show me?"

"Uh, yeah," Prism immediately straightened herself to appear more professional. "I mean, yes, ma'am!" Prism stepped up to the keypad and pressed five numbers in a specific order. The table flipped, revealing three rolled-up blueprints, and Prism unrolled the center page. On it was the design of some sort of cannon. "As you can see here, I'm designing a super-weapon of sorts, capable of taking out a Goliath in one shot, and still be used to take out multiple Grimm surrounding it."

"Interesting," Winter rubbed her chin with her index finger, "but what are the components of this "super-weapon," as you call it?"

"W-Well, it's, uh, us." Prism gestured to herself and her team. Winter raised an eyebrow, and Prism nervously cleared her throat. "So, uh, as you can see here, the weapon will use Acacia's tonfas as the stand, with Sandy's bow acting in tandem with Reizo's katana as both a guide and a containment field, and Echidna's staff will act as the sights and an additional containment field component. Meanwhile, my chakrams will act as the guide, or more like a barrel in this case."

"And what type of weapon is this "super-weapon," Miss Asagiri?"

"Um, it's a rail gun, ma'am."

A cold, evening wind blew over Arishna Dawn as she stood on the rooftop of Atlas Academy. She shuddered, wishing, for the hundredth time, she hadn't agreed to teach in an academy miles above the frozen tundra. She liked to be alone while she looked through her scroll image gallery, smiling as she gazed on pictures of her lover. She felt a warmth in her heart grow with each smile she found.

Before her memories of warmer nights could settle in, they were interrupted by the buzzing of her scroll. The default silhouette of the caller drew a sigh from her lips. She answered the call on the second buzz. "Professor Arishna Dawn of Atlas Academy. How may I help you?"

"Good evening, Professor," the dignified voice that invaded her ears brought a scowl to her lips, "I hope I wasn't interrupting your evening."

"What do you want, Arthur?" Her voice wasn't angry, but it was definitely not happy, either.

"Straight to business then. I am in need of information on our mutual acquaintance, James." Arishna sneered at his request. Well, not really a request, since she knew Arthur Watts was not a man of requests.

"There's nothing new to report. The schedule remains the same, just like last week, and the week before that, and the month before that."

He chuckled. "Really? So you are unaware of a stolen Atlas air-ship enroute to Mantle?"

"What?!" Arishna eyes widened as she turned away and ducked her head from any prying eyes, though she was alone on the roof. "When?!"

"Oh, my! Could it be the great Atlas military is unaware of it's incoming intruders? How interesting, if it weren't woefully predictable."

"Shut up, and tell me everything!" Arishna growled.

Watts harrumphed. "I see you still don't understand how this relationship of ours works. I suppose I could send my friend to visit yours. See if they could become better friends than we are."

"No!" Arishna shouted, this time not caring who heard. "Don't hurt her! Remember our deal!"

"I remember our deal, Miss Dawn, but it is not my memory that is the issue here." Arishna swallowed an empty mouth, shaking with anticipation, anxiety, over what her current benefactor will say next. "I'll take your silence as an understanding." Arishna let out a sigh of relief. "I don't believe you need to worry about the air-ship. It's piloted by an elderly woman, and it's cargo are only passengers: an adult male and eight teenagers, ages ranging from twelve to nineteen."

"Talk about a big family." Arishna joked.

"Indeed. If there is nothing to report, I shall conclude our conversation until next week."

"Wait!" Arishna called out, extending her arm as though she could stop time. Not hearing a click, she continued. "Remember: nobody dies."

There was a minute of silence until Watts spoke. "I promise I will not harm anyone."

He hung up with a click, and Arishna let out a heavy sigh. "How do I get myself out of this, Glyn?"

Reizo fell out of his bed as the alarm blared screamed in his room. He hissed in pain, groaning as he slowly stood up. He looked around. The room had a flashing red siren above them, a red bulb with a revolving reflector spinning around the light. The wail of the siren rose and fall intermittently.

"What's going on?!" Echidna shouted from her bed, covering her ears with her pillow. Her bedhead apparent as her hair was disheveled and unkempt, static causing a few strands to hover vertically.

Reizo looked to the rest of his team was on the floor, having jumped like her leader, with the exception that her fall was from the bottom bunk, not the top. However, Acacia fell onto her from the top bunk, and now both were on their stomachs on the floor, groaning in pain.

He looked at the time from the clock on the wall. It was only a few minutes into midnight. Was Atlas under attack?

The door opened, drawing their attention as Professor Yamato hurriedly stepped inside and opened a keypad by the door, pushing buttons into it, and the siren died with the light. Sighing, she turned to her son's team. "Is everyone all right?"

Sandy and Acacia gave a weary thumbs up and groaned.

"What's going on, Professor?" Echidna asked from her bed.

"I don't mean to alarm you, but," Professor Yamato had a nervous look, "some intruders flew into Atlas air-space and Grimm broke through the Mantle defenses. After the Fall, Atlas won't take any chances that could harm their students."

"Great." Acacia groused as she stood up, pulling Sandy up with her. "About time something went wrong."

Professor Yamato looked around. "Where is Prism?"

The team shared a look between each other before looking back to her, Reizo answering for them. "She's probably at Doctor Polendina."

"What?!" Professor Yamato became very worried.

"It's okay, Mom, Prism can just teleport back in." A flash of light from the bathroom startled the professor. "See, there she is now."

The bathroom door opened, and Prism stepped out, her eyes glued to her scroll. She walked over to the desk nearby and set her scroll down, taking a seat without removing her eyes.

"Pri-"

"Shh!" Prism hissed, holding up a finger. "Not now, our test run is almost complete! There's only one more district left, and I need to make sure no data is left undocumented."

"See? She's fine."

"Well, if you say so." Professor Yamato opened the door and stepped out. "Please, for the remainder of the night, stay in your dorms."

"We will, Mom. I love you."

"I love you, too, Reizo." The door shut. Reizo sighed as he looked back to his team. Echidna had already laid back down to sleep, covering her entire head with her blanket. Acacia climbed back up to her bed, rolling herself into a burrito style to guard against the cold. Sandy crawled into hers, double-checking her glasses case, ensuring it still nestled safely between the mattress and the rack holding it in place. Prism continued to watch her screen. Reizo yawned and placed a foot into the foothold to climb to his bed. He hung precariously over the ground, ready to swing up into his bed.

"IS THAT TEAM RWBY?!" Prism cried, causing her other team members to immediately awake, and her team leader to fall on his back.

The next morning, on their way to class, Reizo yawned as Prism played and replayed her footage. He glanced over, seeing through Penny's eyes and watching as Grimm are decimated by her new skillset. Once gone, Penny landed, then turned and crouched, before literally launching herself at Ruby Rose of Team RWBY.

He smiled to himself. He hadn't seen them since the Fall, which caused his smile to fade. After the Fall, Team RWBY scattered. Last he heard, Ruby Rose had left on a journey to Haven Academy with the remains of Team JNPR, while her sister, Yang Xiao Long recovered from her near-fatal encounter with the White Fang. Weiss Schnee came back to Atlas with her father, although he heard rumors of her running away. Blake Belladonna was a mystery, as she fled during the Fall.

The video ended when Penny flew away to tend to another district. Or at least, it ended for him. After the surprise encounter with Team RWBY, he lost interest in anything else from the video. Team RWBY was in the city, but where? It wasn't like they were going to show up around the corner.

"It'll be just like Beacon again!" Reizo stopped to see where Penny was shouting from, and found her, the Ace-Ops, and Team RWBY show up around the corner. "Oh! Greetings, again, Reizo Yamato!" The group turned and stared in each other's directions.

"Aah! Such a great meal!" Raizo Yamato sighed as he patted his toned belly, pretending it was fat. "You really outdid yourself, babe!"

"Actually, that was me, Dad." Reizo corrected. "I made dinner tonight."

"Oh, uh, right." Raizo scratched his cheek. Reizo and his team visited his family once every other weekend. It had been a few months since he first arrived, but this house never stopped feeling like home to him. Prism and Sandy were washing the dishes, though the latter would rather keep reading the manga her leader let her borrow. Echidna and Acacia were sitting on the couch with Evangeline, watching the news. The two teens were excited to see the results of tonight's campaign.

He saw Ruby Rose, Nora Valkyrie, and Lie Ren standing watch over the Robyn Hill celebration with Marrow Amin, Penny, and the Happy Huntresses. He was surprised to hear Team RWBY and JNPR were now all licensed. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't a little envious.

"So, who do you think's gonna win?" Reizo asked.

Raizo got a sour look on his face. "If this election were perfect, I'd say Robyn Hill would win, no contest."

"But Jacques Schnee's embargo." Reizo countered.

"It really pi-," Raizo cleared his throat as Evangeline shot an icy glare towards him, "I mean, it really, really, really, really makes me angry that the snake would do something like this just to get a few more votes."

"Not surprising," Echidna said, "considering Jacques Schnee's responsible for more suffering than any man, woman, or child in Atlas."

"Try all of Remnant." Acacia corrected. "Seriously, the White Fang wouldn't be a thing if this guy just stopped being so greedy."

"Well, even if he does embargo all of Mantle's, I'm still voting for Hill. She seems like she's got a good head on her shoulders!" Raizo announced proudly.

"Even though her organization isn't exactly clean?" Evangeline asked.

"Better than Schnee." Evangeline hummed in agreement. Reizo watched the polls climb. He couldn't believe someone so horrible was related to a close friend of his. The polls neared their apex, both parties in full swing.

Then the lights died.

"Argh! A blackout, too?!" Raizo shouted. "Damn you, Schnee!"

"Raizo!" Evangeline chided. "Language!" She let out a sigh as she lit a candle in the living room. "Everyone, come to the living room! We'll stay close until the lights come on!"

Acacia sat closer to Echidna, making room for the other four to come to them. Sandy seated herself next to Acacia, and Prism next to her. Reizo laid back next to Echidna. Maybe he catch a few Zs during the blackout.

The lights came on shortly after, and he heard a mixture of emotions. He heard his mother and Sandy gasped, his father and Acacia curse, and Echidna whisper "Oh no."

Reizo opened his eyes, and saw the carnage on TV, with Penny in the center of it all.

"Ruby!" Sandy called out to her eye color duplicate as she spotted her with her team in the hall. The events of last night's disaster left everyone shaken up. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Ruby said with a yawn and a weary smile. Sandy doubted Ruby's claim. The red-hooded girl had bags under her eyes, no doubt from a long night of answering questions from the police and tending to the wounded. "I'm just a little tired, that's all."

"Are you sure? We watched the incident last night." Ruby seemed to tense at the mention of the event. "Do you know what happened?"

Ruby shook her head. "No, I didn't. The only one who saw everything was Penny."

"Where is Penny, anyways?"

"She's staying close to my sister." Weiss answered. "Everyone is pointing fingers at her, since she was the only one who drastically moved around the most during the election party blackout."

"I see. But it doesn't make sense." Sandy crossed her arms. "IF Penny killed those people, why would she do it?"

"Because she didn't." Prism answered, walking up to her friends with the rest of her team. "I still have the night vision recordings from the blackout. Someone was moving around, dodging her and killing people." She then looked to Ruby. "And you know about it."

"W-What?!" Ruby stammered. She waved her hands in front of her to ward off the accusation. "N-No, I don't know anything about the attack!"

"Funny you mention that." Prism said, as she tapped on her screen and held it up. "This is the footage from Penny's Point of View camera. She looks to you, and you have a worried look on your face, and you mouth something. Something like, 'Here we in,' but that doesn't make sense. Here, the lights go out, and Penny shifts to night vision, but she's getting static during this time, too. Luckily, I can still see everything through the static. In the first second, nothing, then there's a man crouched low to the ground, and then he's gone again until Penny finds him again, but misses after every attempt to catch him." She pauses after the third attempt on Penny's part, then glares at Ruby. "What aren't you telling us?"

Yang stepped in front of Ruby. "She told you everything she knows, so back off."

"Don't get testy with me, Xiao Long." Prism growled at the taller blonde. "I'm not in the mood to play these games that you seem to be involved in a lot, recently."

"Excuse me?" Yang's eyes flashed red for a moment, but reverted back to violet, but kept the same glare on Prism. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You tell me, Ms. Break His Legs. Why is your team always at the center of attention of every scandal?"

"Prism-" Reizo started, but was cut off by Blake, who stepped up next to Yang. Her glare on Prism felt dangerous, like a wild animal protecting it's territory.

"Oh, don't you start, Miss White Fang." Blake narrowed her eyes at her. "Yeah, I know all about your little reunion back at Beacon."

"Prism!" Reizo said louder, but it fell on deaf ears as she turned to Weiss next. But Reizo had enough by that point and stepped in front of her. She looked up to argue, but held a glare on her that told her to step back. She did, and Reizo looked to Team RWBY. "I apologize on her behalf." He bowed with his arms straight at his sides, like he was taught to do when he was younger. It's been a long time since he last apologized like this, but he felt this one was needed. "On all of our behalf, I apologize if my team has offended yours." He stood up and looked to Ruby. "But I do agree with Prism that you know more than you're telling us." He extended his hand. "Ruby, please, tell us what's going on."

Ruby looked to her team, who all had a nervous look on their faces, but they all nodded to her. She took a deep breath, then looked Reizo dead in the eye. "Okay. I'll tell you everything." She then looked around. "But not here."

Arthur Watts sat comfortably in his seat at the coffee house he frequented in his youth. He smirked as he drank his coffee and browsed on his scroll, moving from one news article to the next, and delighting at the chaos he orchestrated.

The current article he was reading, "The Mantle Mouthpiece," had an interview from an eyewitness, who claimed she, "saw the soullessness in the doll's eyes." He chuckled to himself a little at that.

"We need to talk." Watts set down his scroll and coffee, seeing Arishna Dawn glowering at him from across the table. He sighed as he released his coffee.

"Do we? I don't believe we do."

"I want to talk."

"I don't. Thus, we have reached an impasse. Compromises must be made, of course."

"I said-" Watts rolled his eyes and stood up. Grabbing his scroll, he stepped away from his seat and began walking down the street. "Hey! I'm not done with you!"

"But I am done with you." Watts continued walking without looking to her. He knew she would chase him. "Unless, of course, you had something I wanted."

"I know you rigged the election!"

"And why would I care about politics in Atlas?" He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to fumble a response. When none came, he continued. "Robyn Hill and her supposed, "crusade," serves me no purpose."

"Then you would side with Jacques Schnee." Arishna deduced. She only caught that because he led her to it. Half-points for that.

"And we come around to the question I asked earlier; why?"

Arishna tried to think, but the only thing on her mind was how dangerous this man she was arguing with was. If she wasn't careful, Glynda would- "You're blackmailing him."

"Not a bad guess, but still wrong." He turned a corner, and she followed. "I don't reward failures, sorry. Besides, why would I blackmail him? What could he have that I want?"

Arishna tensed her brow as she thought. Jacques Schnee's wealth was legendary, and the means he achieved that wealth even more so. But Watts didn't care about Lien, or Dust. Those were the only two things a CEO could give him. Wait, was Jacques Schnee still the CEO? Becoming councilman would have rendered his reach into those resources of the SDC null and void. "Wait. You needed Jacque Schnee to become councilman, so that he could get you information on Ironwood!"

Watts stopped and chuckled. "I suppose if you lay enough crumbs on the ground, you'll catch a rat eventually. However, there's one detail you missed."

"What's that?"

"Oh, you're a smart girl. I'm sure you'll figure it out." He stepped past her, walking towards the street from the alley. Wait, when did they reach an alley? "Oh, and try not scream. Trust me; it's better that way."

"Oh, you're no fun!" A voice shouted behind her. Before she could turn, she felt a sharp pain in her back. She wanted to scream, but the pain was so intense, she couldn't move. Everything faded to black as she heard a distant laughter.

Then, only silence.

Reizo sat in his room, staring out the window. He tensed more and more like a coiled spring with every breath. The clock on the wall ticked, growing louder in the deafening silence. He scratched at the chair's armrest with every tick.

The discussion he shared with Ruby still gnawed at him, and he knew he wasn't alone. Echidna left for a walk around Mantle with Sandy, the latter of the two taking it especially harsh, thus the former saw it best to clear their heads with open air. Acacia left for the training room, no doubt to punch her anxieties away, or at least try to. Prism used the teleporter and locked it from the other side. She liked to tinker during troubling times, and right now she needed it more than ever; alone.

Reizo watched as the clouds drifted past Atlas, and the Sun slowly rose higher and higher to it's noonday place. With a shaky breath, he looked to the right and saw a Bullhead pull closer and closer to Atlas.

Suddenly, it felt harder to breathe. What if this Salem was secretly hiding on that Bullhead? Or one of her agents, like that Tyrian guy? He shut his eyes and shook his head to clear his thoughts. What if his team ran into one of her agents before, but they didn't know it? Would they survive?

His heart leapt into his throat as he heard the door click. He shot up and took a combative stance before the door fully opened. "Who's there?" Reizo tried to bark with as much confidence as he could.

The door opened, revealing a sweaty Acacia standing there with an unimpressed look. "It's just me; your worst nightmare." She walked in, tossing her gym bag onto her bed, and moved towards the bathroom. "By the way, that squeak of yours? Totally intimidating."

Reizo blushed at the remark, but it faded when he saw Acacia's hands. Her knuckles were raw and bleeding. "Hey, you okay?"

Acacia gave him a sour look. "What do you think?" She then walked into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. Reizo sighed as he looked out the window again.

Just this morning, he only cared about becoming a Huntsman. He'd fight Grimm, save lives, and make his family proud. Now, everything changed. Becoming a Huntsman seemed too small of a goal now. He saw a new monster to fight and ultimately slay, but hearing about her from Team RWBY made everything... unreal. She sounded too mythical, too make-believe to exist. But he also knew Team RWBY wouldn't lie about something like this.

Reizo sighed as he looked at the blue sky; the Bullhead from earlier had long since passed, leaving only clouds to roll by.

Acacia turned the water to cold, letting the icy droplets splash from the showerhead. She dabbed her knuckles with toilet paper, wincing as it stung at her open cuts. She swore, but continued to dab until the square was more blood than paper. She then balled up the sheet, and tossed it into the trash.

She stepped into the shower, exhaling sharply as the cold water hit her skin. She shivered, and made quick work lathering herself, scrubbing, and then rinsing the suds from herself. She hissed as her cuts were invaded by both her body wash and the freezing ice water. Once she was thoroughly rinsed, she shut off the water, but didn't leave the shower. She just stared at the drain as the water poured down.

What happened to her life? She attended Beacon, nearly died when some nutcase hijacked Atlas, and now she's at Atlas, and the same thing is happening all over again!

That was why her knuckles were bloddy. She was punching her anxieties, but every time she punched the bag, she got angrier and angrier, until either the bag broke or, after the second bag, she broke.

It just made her angry. She never felt so angry. She didn't think she'd ever been this angry, or be angrier than she was now.

There was a loud banging at the bathroom door. "Hang on, I just finished!" Acacia grabbed her towel and dried off. The banging continued. "Hold your horses, I'm getting dressed!" The banging didn't cease. She was going to murder someone if they didn't stop. She unlocked the door. "What?!"

"Professor Dawn was attacked earlier today." Reizo had a grim look on his face. "She's in the hospital right now."

[noa-halevy]

AIN’T NO PARTY LIKE AN S-CLUB PARTY:

Cool, so. Finally we can get some Hallowe’en shenanigans underway. I’m sorry it took so long. Lmao I’m also sorry for this whole ass mess and what will come of it.

Date: October 31st, 2020. Warnings: Hanging. Just in case. Also length, because this is extra.

“Look, we’ve just got one question. Answer it truthfully, and we’ll let him go...”

Yeah, like she fucking believed that.

When she glanced over the ‘him’ in question—forced to kneel on the concrete floor, a gun that she still couldn’t figure out how they’d snuck into the party pressed into the back of his head—Noa could see him shake his head fractionally. Not for me.

Always the fucking hero. It was why she loved him.

Fifteen minutes ago, they’d been hovering somewhere in the middle of the dance floor, having the time of their lives.

Now, the two French mobsters had been forced into a dimly lit room off of one of the tunnels, the music outside so loud that nobody could hear them scream.

Not exactly how she’d imagined her evening going, to be fair.

“Well, I’ve got a party to get back to, so if you wouldn’t mind hurrying the fuck up...”

They were Rutherford’s people, of that she was sure; the Asian woman looking for answers the same one who could so often be found at Lara’s side. Had it been anyone else, perhaps she could have put it down to her crass attitude rubbing someone up the wrong way—maybe Adrian was a little more delicate then he seemed—but when she realised that these were all people who shadowed one member of the opposing family in particular, she knew her luck had run out.

The question was an obvious one, and she was the answer.

“Who attacked Lara? Was it you or your sister?”

Until the words left her dumb fucking mouth, Noa hadn’t even considered the idea that if Lara did remember who’d been the one to tear her face to shreds, she mightn’t have been able to discern which of the twins was responsible for it. From the moment Varden and Évelyne had reprimanded her for attacking the woman without permission, she’d thought she’d considered everything; that they could come after her, that they could come after her daughter, that they could come after her husband. A case of mistaken identity, though? Perhaps it should’ve been a more obvious hazard.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

It sounded convincing, but the woman in front of her rebuffed it with a roll of her eyes.

“My patience is thin,” she said, tone so calm Noa hadn’t expected her to turn around and throw out the order that the gun be used in her next breath. “Shoot him.”

What?

“Wait—wait!”

The protests, no matter how desperate, were in vain.

Despite the steady thrum of the bass line outside of the crumbling walls, the sound of the gun going off ripped through her drunken haze like the bullet ripped through its target. The woman’s bloodshot eyes were wide with horror as she watched the man keel over to the side and hit the ground like a tonne of fucking bricks. The only consolation—and she hated herself for being glad to hear it—was the sound of him crying out in agony. It echoed painfully until her blood ran cold. As he rolled onto his back, cursing out his attacker with every French insult under the sun, silence finally came in the form of a boot to his face.

They couldn’t bullshit their way out of this one.

Their attackers had them over a fucking barrel, and she was seething.

“It was the Russians!”

“Stop lying to me.”

“I’m not lying,” Noa snapped back, her chest heaving with every breath. “You just don’t want to hear the truth that your new friends aren’t as neatly under your thumb as you think they are.”

Before she could continue a pointless tirade she was sure they both knew was a lie, a hand grabbed her by the throat with so much force, it caught her off guard. By fuck she hoped the bitch knew how lucky she was that she couldn’t fight back.

“Lara pointed you out in the crowd,” the bitch continued, face coming to within an inch of her own as she muttered the words dangerously. “Would you like to try again?”

“Yeah? Well maybe your boss is just a dumb fucking cunt. Blind now, too, isn’t she?”

The second gunshot rang out without warning.

Not only did it startle Noa to the point that she flinched in Medea’s grip, but it seemed to surprise the woman crushing her throat, too—enough so that she turned to look at her companion with a hint of annoyance.

“Eitan. Enough.”

Despite the fact the one wielding the gun grumbled in response to the woman who apparently held his leash, there wasn’t a sound to be heard from the man who had taken his second bullet of the evening. In fact, if Noa hadn’t spared a sideways glance to make sure that he was still moving—dizzying relief following as she caught him attempting to reach for his other shattered knee—she might’ve assumed he was dead.

As dead as she was going to be if she couldn’t figure her way out of this…

“The party isn’t that big,” Medea once again spoke back to the fighter. “He shouldn’t be taking this long to find the other one.”

The other one presumably being her sister.

If the older Halévy was still in the company of Laurent, then good fucking luck to the sorry bastard who’d been given that task. It was some consolation she could cling on to, at least.

“If you think she’ll come quietly, you’ve got even less brain cells than your boss.”

The woman seemed to take a deep breath in through her nose at that—an adult trying their best to rise above the annoying pesters of an insolent child—before she all but snatched the gun out of her accomplice’s hand. Noa thought it would be pretty lucky on her part if the bitch didn’t immediately turn and use it to beat her mouth shut.

“Fewer,” Medea corrected.

“What?”

“It would be ‘even fewer brain cells than your boss’.”

Noa looked at her in silence.

“I don’t care whether she comes quietly,” she added, angrily. “I just want her to see this.”

Noa didn’t know what ‘this’ was, but judging by the crack in the tone of her voice, she wasn’t sure she wanted to find out.

---

“I came to this party last year. There’s definitely a room around here somewhere...”

“We’re going to get in trouble, aren’t we?”

The way she giggled suggested she didn’t mind the idea one bit.

The two youngsters—only a few years clear of being flat-out rejected on the door—had broken away from the main party in search of a little…privacy. Having wandered through the inebriated crowds for a while, he finally caught sight of the familiar passageway he’d been remembering in case he got lucky. Noting that a man was just leaving, he paused a moment to make sure his own guest wasn’t following behind. Then, sure as he could be that the coast was finally clear (and without much thought for the consequences) he quickly ducked inside, holding onto the hand of the girl who had been trying her level-best to catch his attention all night.

“This is kind of creepy.”

He’d laughed at that, using it as an excuse to pull her closer.

“Well, it is Hallowe’en, no?”

Their hushed French echoed in the tunnels, only underscored by the thumping of the DJ’s next song choice a room over. It was amazing that it was almost loud enough to feel, even here. Her hand seemed to tighten around his; her apprehensive path edging her closer. For a moment, his patience stretched so thin he contemplated pushing her up against the wall there and then, but she seemed intent on the idea of having a door to hide behind.

Ugh.

When they finally reached the threshold of the room, the sounds of talking caught them off guard.

Had somebody already taken their spot?

Perhaps, had they been smarter—or at the very least, more aware of the types of guests they were sharing their night with—they would have turned around and walked back to the bar. Had a few more drinks, thrown up in the taxi home, and bragged to their friends about something that never really happened because they were too drunk. As it was, the beautiful brunette, smile as cheeky as her wandering hands had been earlier, decided that she wanted to get a better look.

Even though he’d been about to protest, she’d dragged him along for the ride.

Who was he to say no?

The sight that greeted them was one neither could’ve imagined in their wildest dreams.

Considering the fact he’d been wearing the same grin from the moment he’d first laid eyes on his companion, the speed in which it faded to sheer horror was astounding.

For a moment, he’d thought the woman in front of them was dead.

The silhouette standing beneath her, apparently watching to be sure the makeshift noose around the French loyalist’s neck held as she swung from the ceiling, didn’t seem to register them at first. But whilst the horrified woman at his side was smart enough to keep her mouth shut, his lips had parted before he could even think about the repercussions of involving himself in this.

“No—”

Her name got stuck in his throat.

All the saliva seemed to leave his mouth; all ability to string together a real sentence right after.

The familiar brunette was still alive, he thought, but the way her eyes rolled back into her head—the way her hands could no longer find a grip on the rope around her neck—made it seem like she was teetering.

Were they…witnessing a fucking murder?

“What’s going on here?”

Maybe a part of him liked to think he was brave.

That he could be the kind of person who did the right thing in a situation like this instead of turning around and running away and making it somebody else’s responsibility.

Gabriel might’ve disliked his father, but he’d surely inherited some of his better qualities.

The way he could hear his heartbeat pounding in the words that left him, however, left him unsure of whether he was worthy of the comparison. All thoughts of his new girlfriend flew out of the window, despite the fact she had his hand in a death grip. There was a woman literally hanging from the ceiling. All he could think to do was lunge forward and try to help. This was Noa, for crying out loud. The woman was practically his family.

Even if he’d had a rational enough thought in his mind to consider going to get help, it would’ve surely been too late.

At first he’d been glad to see that the sound of his voice seemed to bring her back to some level of consciousness. That she seemed to be grabbing at the rope with some purpose again.

Then he realised it was panic he could see in her eyes instead of relief.

When the sound of a shriek came from behind him, it became abundantly clear why.

The woman who stood intent to hang his Godmother had a gun.

---

The last thing she’d wanted was for him to be the distraction they needed.

The last thing she’d wanted was to be the last face he saw.

It was only four gunshots that followed; precise, professional, cold.

Two for each kid she’d gunned down. An even split.

The pulse crashing in Noa’s temples grew more painful as each second passed; doubly so as she let out a strangled sob at the sight of the bodies crashing to the floor. No. Absolutely not. This couldn’t be happening. The room was closing in on her, she was sure of it. It felt like she was going blind—from the lack of oxygen, and the fucking pressure.

But maybe that would’ve been too kind a mercy.

Instead, she couldn’t tear her vision from the lifeless body.

Noa hadn’t thought much about how her final moments would play out, but she’d never expected to be thinking about this. To be considering what Varden was losing, instead of her husband and daughter having to go on without her.

“Halévy.”

Her name rose above her thoughts as a grunt. Just jarring enough to bring her back from the brink of wanting it.

As her eyes drifted toward the source of the voice, she remembered that Ludo was still with her. That despite the best efforts of the Rutherfords, he was still fucking breathing.

Barely.

Medea seemed preoccupied with investigating the youngsters she had just murdered.

For the brief moment in which her back was turned, Noa looked toward her friend. Though her hands still gripped at the rope above her head, she didn’t have the strength to keep her weight off for much longer. The Rutherford assassin had wanted her to struggle—had offered her up the means to do so—because this was just as much about her suffering as it was her murder. It seemed like the woman’s plan to have her sister witness the slow death had gone to shit, though, because there was no fucking way she was going to last another minute…

Or at least, that was what she’d thought.

Maybe it was shock, maybe it was adrenaline, maybe it was pure spite—knowing Ludo, more than likely a combination of the three—but the Frenchman somehow managed to drag himself to his feet. The movement was fast. If it hadn’t been, she wasn’t sure he would’ve managed it at all. Before her brain could catch up, he’d stumbled toward her, arms outstretched, body heaving. He couldn’t pull her down. He couldn’t cut the rope. But he could put himself beneath her—positioning her to sit on his shoulders—offering the brief window of leverage she needed to loosen the rope around her neck.

Noa was barely conscious. Thinking was an entire fucking process.

“Noa, you have to hurry up. Get the rope. I can’t—”

If the words hadn’t been enough to snap her back to their bleak reality, the fact that Medea had turned around when she’d heard them had.

Fuck.

Like one final spark of life shot back through her—desperate and stubborn—shaky hands reached up to the amateur knot at the side of her neck. The weight of her body had already tightened it so much she wasn’t sure she could loosen it. Her fingers kept slipping, unable to keep a hold. It felt like she was trying to grasp at air. Nothing.

Why couldn’t she fucking grab it?

“What the fuck are you doing? Stop!”

Even though she lifted the gun in her hands for a final time, Ludovic didn’t flinch.

Fumbling, straining, trying her hardest to keep her balance on her friend’s shoulders; eventually Noa managed to drag the rope from around her neck, ducking her head out a moment later. But she didn’t even get the chance to take her first real breath before Medea unleashed her fury on the man who’d helped.

Ludo fell to the ground, and this time, the bullet wasn’t meant as a punishment.

She hadn’t left any room for him to play the hero twice.

With nothing holding her up now, when the body of the French loyalist slumped to the ground, she’d tumbled along with him; unforgiving concrete meeting her head with such force she was surprised it hadn’t been enough for her to black out.

It was the chance she needed, though.

God, she couldn’t go out like this.

Medea tossed the empty gun to the side, staring her down with the coldest glare Noa had ever seen.

“What are you going to do?” It was a taunt she likely hadn’t expected to work in her prey’s favour. The anger in Noa spiked as she continued, “run?”

The Rutherford reached down to her leg to pull out a knife.

It was just enough of a distraction for the Frenchwoman, now on her feet, to make her move.

There was nothing left for her to lose and she was all out of options. Either it was time to die like a coward—for Ludo’s sacrifice to be in pitiful vain—or she mustered up the fight get the fuck out.

So she lunged.

If Noa hadn’t been so dazed and pained and disoriented, the Rutherford wouldn’t have stood a fucking chance. With every ounce of her anger and frustration weighing behind her, she threw her entire body at the assassin, dragging her down to the floor in a bluntly painful tangle of limbs. Noa pinned her to the concrete, merciless. Her shaky hands found the curve of her throat with ease; grabbing immediately with such force she was surprised she didn’t crush her windpipe.

Fuck, she wanted to.

Medea was startled enough that it took her a moment to regain her bearings.

To remember that she had a fucking knife.

The thought had skipped Noa’s mind entirely, too, until the searing pain fanned out from her side and weakened her like the cunt was deflating a fucking balloon.

Despite the knife wedged just below her ribs—and boy did she scream bloody murder at that—Noa brought her fist down to meet Medea’s face with shattering force. Cartilage and bone. All she wanted was to see her bleed. Once, twice, until the agony in her side denied her a third. The adrenaline that’d kept her alive until now could only hold up for so long, apparently.

The woman was conscious, but dazed. Barely moving.

This was her shot.

Noa clambered to her feet sluggishly.

She’d barely made it half way before her legs gave out.

The pain was so intense and all consuming that she wasn’t even sure if it the knife was solely to blame anymore. So she crawled. Dragged herself—each movement more agonizing than the last—closer to the doorway that would take her back out to the party. To help.

She could hear Medea moving behind her now.

Perhaps she had the same fucking idea.

Noa didn’t dare look back. Not even as a means to spur herself on.

The sounds of the party were growing louder. She could smell the cologne, taste the blood in her mouth, feel the embrace of those who were likely looking for her. The cold beneath her finger tips faded. It felt like her vision was following suit.

But the door was right there.

“Get the fuck back here,” the woman, hot on her tail, spluttered.

As if the light from the next room was all she needed, Noa eventually managed to get to her feet once more, falling against the wall for support. It would hold her.

Just a few more steps.

When she finally made it through the doorway to the party, nobody even noticed her.

How many people were walking around with fake knives hanging out of them?

How many people already looked half dead?

But this time, the bitch that followed was her saving grace instead of the one to take it all away. When she grabbed at Noa’s legs and dragged her down to the floor once more, people fucking noticed the impact. They noticed the clambering. They noticed that this wasn’t some drunk disagreement between two women but a real problem.

They were a fucking mess.

When Medea got to her feet, only to deliver a forceful kick to her ribs to put her on her back, it was as though nobody else in the room fucking existed.

Just them.

Neither cared.

They just wanted the other to hurt.

As the assassin helped herself to the knife she’d so carelessly left behind in her target’s side, the last thing Noa saw was her wielding it above her, ready to finish the job.

Someone was heckling.

It was loud. Felt louder than the music.

Before she could realise it was people coming to her aid, both the faces above her and last remnants of the party’s lights faded from vision.

Then there was nothing.