#and every time i would get a glimpse of him at training i could physically feel the butterflies

[monachopism]

am i autistic or am i just paranoid. level: impossible

[cherriegyuu]

[2:08] glimpse of us

Seungcheol runs up the stairs, out of breath. There’s no military or gym training in the world that can prepare someone to run up 8 flights of stairs and he shouldn’t have done it to begin with. There were elevators but neither was there when he entered the building so he had the bright of just taking the stairs. 

The truth was, he was nervous. So incredibly so that staying in place waiting for the elevator to come back seemed too much, it was physically impossible for him just to stay put. The car ride had been a nightmare, his leg jumping up and down to the point his manager had to tell him to stop because “you’re shaking the entire car”.

He thought about his decision a lot, for months that was all he did. Thinking and taking no action at all. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he just couldn’t. 

Breaking up with you had been one of the hardest things he had ever done and what made it worse was the fact that you understood what he said. You understood why he was breaking up with you. Seungcheol would have rather you just screamed at him, hit him, lash out at him, or anything to show anger. He had promised you the world, everything he could, everything he had, and yet there he was taking it all back. 

He had watched, in complete despair, as tears ran down your face, your eyes seeming lost, focused on the window behind him, as you took in everything he had said. When Seungcheol was done talking you finally looked back at him. Your eyes glistened with tears, your cheeks stained with them. You blinked at him a few times as if trying to get something back in place, to get your thoughts in order. Collect them, somehow.

“I understand, Seventeen always comes first”

It was something he said many times. That was his job, to protect his members at all costs. Even at the expense of himself and his life. 

That was the last thing you said directly at him. And you managed to avoid him so well. In events both of you had to attend, he only saw glimpses of you. If there was a camera to his face, or yours, he couldn’t just look at you like he wanted, when you were performing all he could do was nod once or twice. If you happened to pass by him or his members, all you’d do was say a polite “hello” and bow your head. 

His heart broke every single time and he knew yours wasn’t doing much better either. Seungcheol knew you, he knew your tells, even as you did your best to control all of your emotions. 

That happened two and a half years before. Seungcheol had gone on tour and then enlisted, as planned. And every single day his heart had longed only for you. 

Maybe he was reading too much into it, maybe he was just projecting his own feelings in the thing he saw — or thought that he saw—, but Seungcheol was sure that you still felt the same way about him. If not the same then something still very similar. He knew it from the lyrics you wrote, and the things you said in interviews. 

“The color red hunts me, I think” you said once, laughing. 

Maybe he was projecting, yes, but there was also a chance that he may be right. And that was a chance he was willing to take, even if it turned sour the second he knocked on your door.

He did his best to pull the air back into his lungs in five seconds before finally knocking on the door. Seungcheol wasn’t even sure you were home, he just went there in hopes of finding you. 

It took you almost an entire minute to get to the door. Seungcheol didn’t want to get his hopes up, logically he knew that two and half years is a very long time and you could have been with someone else, or could just not want anything to do with him. But seeing you in a shirt he had left behind ignited a new spark of confidence in him.

“What are you doing here?” you said. 

It was hard to believe that he was actually there, truly in front of you, still in his uniform. You had seen on the news that he was bound to be discharged any day now but the precise one was kept a secret from the fans and thus everyone else. 

The last thing you expected was to see him on your door, in the same uniform every had gone crazy over. He looked taller, somehow, his shoulders wider than they used to be. It was something you knew was bound to happen to see it, in front of your very eyes was on your bucket list after the breakup.

“I need to ask you two questions,” he said.

You crossed your arms over your chest when you realized he had been looking at your shirt. His shirt, actually. You had managed to get rid of many of his things that had been left behind, that shirt wasn’t one of them. At first, it was because it smelled like him, it was a source of comfort when your heart was breaking time and time again. His perfume had disappeared a long time ago but still, there was no way to get rid of it. 

“Are you dating someone right now?”

Seungcheol opened and closed his fists, waiting for your answer. He didn’t know, had no idea, that he would get that nervous around you again. It was like when he first asked you out but so much worse because now he was trying to make amends. 

“That’s hardly any of your business,” you said, voice tired “but no, I’m not”

You sighed and ran a hand over your face. 

“Do you still love me?” his tone was almost desperate.

He knew that whichever your answer was, it would change his entire life. He would either be over the moon or your words would seal the nails on the coffin. 

“Seungcheol, why are you doing this?” your voice was barely a whisper. 

The last thing he wanted was to see you cry because of him, again. It was like that day, in his apartment all those years before, crushing his heart once more.  Instead of waiting for your answer, Seungcheol took the two steps separating you. He held your face in his hands, his eyes searching yours once again, to make sure that he wasn’t crossing any lines, that you too wanted that.

You sighed into him the moment his lips pressed over yours, your arms going around his waist, pulling him closer to you. Two and half years and nothing had changed.

“I do, I still do”

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[certifiedfreec]

i feel like there would be some subtle signs that könig took an interest in you…

- sometimes he likes to watch you struggle with what little height you have to reach up for the top shelves in the kitchen on base. poor thing, it looks like you need some help from a big, strong, super tall man :( he chuckles a little before stepping in to grab what you needed, but not before playfully dangling it high up over your head to watch you jump for it. “hah, you look like a katze right now.”

- this man eats like a motherfucker. if he even offers to share food with you, that’s basically his way of proposing. you said yes once, and now he’s bringing you snacks all the time before you even have to ask. he wants to feed you, make sure you’re nourished before and after missions- just let the big guy dote on you!

- he doesn’t say much, but it’s because he doesn’t need to; his presence does all the talking. all of kortac went out to a dingy bar one night, and you better believe you were the safest person in the room with all 6-foot-something of him staying close behind you. one glowering look from him is all it takes to get someone to back off- no one touches his precious little katze.

i feel like there would be some subtle signs that gaz took an interest in you…

- he’ll FaceTime you randomly from wherever he is, whether he’s in a safehouse or on the other side of the base. he just likes to get a glimpse of your face whenever he can :’) if he can’t video call you then he’s spamming you with memes that he saw; he knows exactly how to make you laugh.

- you were talking about your favorite food one day, and somehow by total coincidence he cooked it in the base kitchen a few days later! and how convenient, he over-estimated the ingredients and ended up fixing enough for two people! he just might need your help with finishing it ;) he’s already thinking about what to have for dessert…

- he’s a fantastic listener, always letting you vent to him when a new recruit pisses you off or when you’re unhappy with how the latest mission went. he hates seeing you so upset, wishing he could take all your irritations away :( he always stops himself just before can suggest some not-so-fraternization-policy-friendly ways of helping you relieve that stress :’)

i feel like there would be some subtle signs that soap took an interest in you…

- he always notices whenever you use a different body wash or fragrance, and he’ll be the first ask you what the new scent is. no one else really detects it the way he does, but he pays so much attention to you that he can’t help it. he also can’t help but want his sheets to smell like you too <3

- he insists on taking selfies with you wherever you’re on missions together. suddenly it’s a thing, and now you’re taking them together all the time when you’re off base. you think it’s a fun way to document all the places you travel to, but to him it’s the perfect excuse to have some pictures of your pretty face on his phone :’)

- he likes to initiate all kinds of competitions with you during missions- who can reload their weapon the fastest, who can shoot from the furthest distance, etc. it’s honestly kinda hot seeing you get so focused. his wagers start out fairly normal, but if you’re game then he definitely ups the ante. maybe the winner gets to do whatever they want to the loser…you’d never noticed him training so much before ;)

i feel like there would be some subtle signs that price took an interest in you…

- he’s always nearby when you’re training on the shooting range, readily available to critique your aim and give you some pointers. does this involve standing suuuuper close and physically moving your arms and feet to fix your position? with him, it always does <3

- this man stares you down during debriefings. it’s like you become his focal point- he’ll glance at the others every once in a while, but his gaze always settles back on you. he just thinks you look so adorable all focused and serious while he’s talking!

- one night you were outside after a mission, and he was puffing on a cigar from his prized collection. he was asking you about the operation, wanting to know how you felt about it before casually handing the cigar to you- how could you refuse your captain? you’d never touched one of those before so you coughed and sputtered after taking a pitiful puff (it was like an indirect kiss, too!!) and he chuckled amusedly at you. “looks like you need some more practice. i can help with that.”

[hubbvrd]

Love letter | Quinn Hughes

summary — in which quinn is in love with y/n the social media worker for the canucks.

pairing — quinn hughes x reader

words — 2955

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You couldn't choose who you fell in love with.

It usually happened so quickly that you hardly noticed and couldn't do anything about it.

It was actually a nice feeling to be in love. You had the feeling that the world suddenly became carefree and you walked around with a good feeling.

You were happy to see the person again and to be near them, while the warmth shot up your cheeks and your stomach tingled.

That's exactly how Quinn felt at the moment. He was in love.

A few weeks ago, he had fallen in love with the young woman y/n, who worked in social media for the Canucks.

In a joint video, in which the young woman had asked him countless questions to create content for the Canucks fans, the two of them had had a lot of fun and occasionally got a little closer to each other, so that the odd physical contact was inevitable.

Since then, Quinn had been thinking about the young woman almost constantly.

His teammates Elias and Brock would often catch him looking over at the young woman during training, who would take photos or videos and then post them on social media channels.

This was the case again today. Practice was in full swing as Quinn gripped his racket tighter and scanned the ice ring for the woman who was turning his head.

It took him a few seconds to spot her. She was standing there with a young man Quinn had only glimpsed so far and seemed to be laughing happily about something.

Every now and then, the stranger would touch her, causing Quinn to unconsciously tighten his grip on his bat and his eyebrows to furrow slightly.

"Hey man, you're staring again." Elias came to stand next to Quinn on the ice, so Quinn saw Elias adjusting his helmet out of the corner of his eye.

Quinn knew he didn't need to give Elias an excuse, because his best friend knew about the young woman and Quinn's feelings.

A few days ago, Elias had caught Quinn staring and then confronted him, but Quinn had folded not long after and told Elias everything.

After all, there were no secrets between the two best friends.

"You should finally ask her out."

Now Elias stood in front of Quinn so that he could no longer look over at the woman who had taken a liking to him.

"Elias, I-I..." Quinn began to give his team colleague another excuse, as he had done the last few times.

But he raised his gloved hand to indicate Quinn should be quiet.

As Elias began to speak, he gave the captain a serious look.

"Quinn, you have a different excuse every time. I can see how smitten you are. But the longer you hesitate, the less chance you have. I hate to say it, but I guess that guy over there is trying to get to her himself."

With a nod, Elias gestured over to the young woman and the red-haired man, who had come a little closer to her and kept grabbing her by the arm.

From a distance, Quinn couldn't interpret the expression on the young woman's face, as she was standing with half her back to him.

"And how am I supposed to do that? Just run over and pull her away from the redhead?"

A nervous expression formed on Quinn's face. The thought of simply walking over to her and approaching her made him start to sweat.

He wasn't good at approaching women, so the thought of talking to the young woman made him want to flee.

"That's actually how you do it, yes. But I have another idea." A grin formed on Elias's face as he stepped a little closer to Quinn and then whispered something in his best friend's ear.

And this idea appealed to Quinn so much that he decided to put it into practice.

"Good morning" a smile came to your lips as you greeted your colleagues and then slipped inside.

"Good morning, y/n! Good to see you." One of your colleagues, Lucy, ran up to you beaming and then pulled you into a tight hug.

Ever since you'd taken the social media job with the Canucks, Lucy and you had become instant friends.

Since then, you've been more or less inseparable. Lucy also worked for the social media team.

She usually took over the press conferences or was there for the post-match interviews, while you took care of the social media channels and shot the occasional content video.

The brunette put her arm around you as you walked side by side through the building to the small office where you had made yourselves comfortable.

The office wasn't very big, so only two desks fitted in opposite each other and two small, cozy armchairs had found their place at the other end of the wall.

Despite their small size, you loved the office more than anything, even if you spent more time on the road than in the office.

"What's on your agenda today?" You checked in with your colleague and best friend as you opened your office door and slipped into the light blue room.

On the wall behind your desk was a huge Canucks logo painted on the wall, while on the other blue-painted walls were some pictures of the team that you had taken yourself.

"I've actually just got some paperwork today and need to make a few phone calls for upcoming interviews, you?" Lucy dropped into her desk chair while you carelessly threw your jacket onto one of the chairs and then walked over to your desk.

Before you could even begin to reply, a white envelope lying on your desk caught his attention.

It wasn't unusual for you to receive mail in the morning, but this letter was different to the mail you usually received.

You could feel that directly. Slowly, you walked over to your desk as you answered Lucy curtly.

You didn't want your colleague to get suspicious.

Your name was written on the letter in curved handwriting. There was no sender or indication of where it might have come from.

This led you to conclude that this was a personal letter.

Your curiosity grew as you began to examine the letter, but made no attempt to open it.

Who wrote you a letter?

You carefully picked up the letter. It was quite light and you could feel a note through the thin envelope.

"Who did you get mail from?" You suddenly heard Lucy's voice, who had more or less caught you in the act.

"Oh, just from a customer, nothing important," you babbled and opened a drawer in your desk to carefully put the letter inside.

Your curiosity wouldn't diminish over the next hour, but you wanted to read the letter in peace and quiet, so you had to wait until Lucy left the office and you could finally be undisturbed.

But you didn't know how agonizingly slow the time would be until then.

Four agonizingly long hours passed before Lucy finally made the effort to leave your shared office to have a conversation.

After the door had slammed shut behind Lucy, you jerked out the letter, which you carefully opened and pulled out the neatly folded paper with your heart beating faster.

With trembling fingers and increasing nervousness, you unfolded the paper before placing it on the desk in front of you and began to read.

Dear y/n,

I keep looking at you, but can't touch you.

You don't know, how much l want to. want to be near you, want you to look my way.

A moment alone with you, would be beautiful. A moment alone with you, would feel eternal.

You skimmed over the words again and again. Your heart kept leaping in your chest as you read them.

You had never received such words before. In the past, you had always found it very cheesy when your friends told you that they had received love letters or wrote them themselves.

But now that you had your first love letter in front of you, it warmed your heart.

It was really sweet to read these words that were addressed directly to you.

You didn't know who this letter was from, but you wished it was a special person.

This one particular player called Quinn Hughes.

The first time you had made a video with him for social media, you had immediately noticed how well you Both got on and you had even gotten a little closer to each other at times.

Since then, you've often thought about the captain and occasionally caught yourself looking over at him and staring at him for a few seconds, lost in thought.

But what if the letter wasn't from Quinn at all, but from Alex? Alex had been very close to you recently and you had caught him looking for physical contact again and again.

Alex was a really nice young man, but you just wasn't attracted to him.

The thought that the letter could be from Alex made your face contort slightly and you put the letter aside.

Your fingers reached for the envelope, which you began to shake and shortly afterwards a small Post it note in the shape of a heart fell out.

You had completely overlooked the post it so far, so you reached for the pink note with a pounding heart and turned it over to reveal the writing.

If you're brave enough to find out who I am, meet me in the parking lot at 7 tonight.

Once again, no signature under the message. There wasn't even a single letter that would have given you any idea who had written you this sweet letter.

Your heart was almost pounding against your chest as you glanced at the bottom of my computer screen to see what time it was.

By now it was 6:30pm and so you still had some time before you would meet the unknown love letter writer.

Nervously, you started to slide around a bit on the black office chair.

You were really curious to find out who was behind the sweet lines.

But even though the message was really sweet, you were afraid that it might just be a joke.

After all, the Canucks boys had the occasional challenge and banter amongst themselves.

But had you really become one of her victims? With the best will in the world you couldn't really imagine that, as everyone was incredibly nice to you and treated you as if you'd been part of the team for ages.

Of course, you never know what makes other people tick and even though you couldn't imagine for the life of you that this letter was just a joke, you decided to be careful.

But despite all this, you wanted to know who was behind the letter and so you decided to go to the place where it was said and find out who it was.

Your heart beat a little faster against your chest with excitement and nervousness.

You hadn't mentioned the letter to Lucy once, so you had to come up with an excuse to more or less get rid of Lucy at the end of the working day an hour ago, as she was desperate to have a drink with you.

The last hour that you had spent alone in your office had gone by rather agonizingly slowly, even though you had already prepared a post or two for the next few days on social media.

But now it was time to find out who had written you the letter.

With every step you took closer to the parking lot, your heart began to beat faster and faster, making you feel like it could jump out of your chest at any second.

You buried your hands, which had become sweaty again, deeper into your jacket pockets, where your right hand played with your bunch of keys.

You were incredibly nervous, so your hand needed something to do and you were a little more distracted.

When you arrived at the parking lot, your eyes wandered nervously back and forth.

In addition to your car, there were four other cars in the parking lot, but you couldn't identify their owners.

Since you didn't know exactly where to wait in the not-so-small parking lot, you positioned yourself a little more centrally in the large parking lot so that the unknown person could easily spot you.

A glance at your cell phone display showed that it was still five minutes until 7 pm.

You used the time to take a few more deep breaths and try to calm yourself down as best you could.

Luckily, it wasn't a dark time of year, so you didn't have to be afraid of the parking lot, which was usually only dimly lit by a few lanterns in winter.

Although the weather was pretty gloomy today and the clouds were increasing, it was bright enough that you had a good view of all the creepy corners and only had to run a few meters to your car if necessary.

Your eyes scanned your surroundings and every time footsteps came closer, you looked hopefully in the direction they were coming from.

But none of them paid any attention to you and shortly afterwards, all but one of the other cars pulled away.

So the last car, which was not too far away from yours, had to be the car of the man who had written you the letter.

A few more minutes passed, during which the nervousness began to creep up inside you again.

And then suddenly the time had come.

From a distance, you could recognize someone. The person was wearing a dark blue hoodie that clearly stood out.

His hood was pulled over his head and his gaze was slightly lowered, so you couldn't tell who it was yet.

On his shoulder was a sports bag, on which you could see the Canucks logo from a distance.

So it was a player, you thought, as the stranger came closer and closer to you and your nervousness grew so much that your heart began to pound in your chest again.

He seemed to be moving in slow motion and took forever to get to you, so you started moving without thinking twice and ran towards him.

When the two of you finally came face to face, the stranger slowly lifted his head and pulled the hood off his head, revealing thick brown hair.

And your heart literally skipped a beat as you struggled not to clasp your hands over your mouth.

Because standing in front of you was none other than Quinn Hughes.

The man you had gotten a little closer to some time ago.

The man you got on well with straight away.

The man who made you laugh.

The man you couldn't stop thinking about.

"Quinn..." His name left your mouth in an almost whisper.

The person opposite you nodded in response, a shy smile on his lips and he began to clutch the handle of his sports bag like a lifeline.

Suddenly he seemed so shy and embarrassed. Very different from your video shoot.

He cleared his throat. "Hello, y/n."

"The...the letter...it's from you?" To be on the safe side, you checked again. There was a little fear in your voice because you wanted the letter to be from him.

"Yes, I wrote the letter."

Embarrassed, Quinn looked at you and ran his free hand through his thick hair, brushing a few strands that had fallen into his eyes out of his face.

"Wow...I mean...those words really touched me" You babbled on, which made Quinn's cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

"Really?" he asked hopefully. He couldn't seem to believe that you were reacting so positively.

You began to nod eagerly.  "Yes, really!" 

Quinn began to almost beam and seemed to spend some time searching for the right words, which made you slightly nervous.

"I'm not really good at talking, that's why Elias gave me the idea of the letter. I thought you thought this was just a joke and you weren't even going to show up, but I'm really relieved you're here."

Now it was Quinn who was babbling nervously as his left hand moved to the back of his neck, where he began to scratch himself in embarrassment.

"Really? I thought it was a joke too, since the name wasn't signed. But I was too curious and wanted to see who was here."

A nervous laugh leaves your lips, causing Quinn to start laughing as well.

"Wow...that's really something."

Quinn smirked slightly before gathering all his courage and finally the sentences he would have loved to ask you already left his mouth.

"Y/n I know this might be risky because you work for the same team as me. I don't know exactly what the contracts and agreement are here, but I think you realize there's something between us too, don't you? Would you...would you go out with me?"

His eyes looked at you with an almost hopeful expression, while your heart stumbled again and you began to feel the warmth rush to your cheeks.

And it actually didn't take you long to give Quinn a suitable answer.

Because the answer has been on the tip of your tongue for a long time and you were finally able to say it out loud.

"I would love to go on a date with you, Quinn."

[lipringlrh]

small rooms and crowded spaces | DR3

summary: you don't do well in crowded rooms or rooms full of people but daniel is always there to make you feel better.

pairing: daniel ricciardo x genderneutral!reader

an: my first daniel fic so please let me know how you find it!!! also pretend i posted this half an hour earlier on his actual birthday

word count: 1.1k

warnings: anxiety, crowded spaces + people.

feedback and reblogs are appreciated!

…

You hated crowded spaces: small rooms with far too many people, hotel lobbies during checkout time, and lifts with more than your own family. But most of all, you hated parties; they were an overcrowded dump, full to the brim with drunk idiots who really didn't care that they had just pushed you into a wall.

You never went on your own accord, and rarely anyone else's, but tonight was different. You were told it would be a small get-together with only a few drivers, past and present, and the odd mechanic or engineer. What you didn't expect was a massive party with people showing up even though they didn't know the host. Daniel had promised you it would be small and you would leave with him the second you wanted to, but it was impossible to find him through the groups of people. And even if you did, you'd feel too guilty to ask him to leave after knowing he was so glad to be out again.

Little did you know, Daniel was looking for you too. The whole night, he hadn't taken he eyes off of you. He either hadn't left your side or knew where you were at precisely any moment. It'd take one little slip up to lose you, which he wasn't planning on doing but when everything got too loud and he was pulled into a conversation where he had to focus his all on trying to hear, he lost you.

He was still meant to be engrossed in conversation with the same man, but he wanted to look for you. It was harder than imagined though as every time he tried to leave or just stop the conversation, the man would carry on, obviously ignoring the worried state of your boyfriend.

Daniel didn't give up though, his head was flicking rapidly back and forth trying to catch any glimpse of you. He was ignoring the man desperately trying to talk to him, only replying with short hums, ignoring every adequate reply.

He spotted you eventually, squashed into a wall. You were pushing yourself into it as far as you could go, searching around frantically for your boyfriend. You hadn't noticed him yet but he just wished you would, hoping it would calm you little until he managed to reach you.

He didn't know which way to go - every possible direction was cut off by groups of people. He decided he didn't care and just pushed passed everyone, occasionally dropping a "thank you" to the people who moved with ease.

You noticed him heading towards you, through the people and he could see you visibly relax. You kept your eyes trained on him, using him as a comfort, as he made his way over.

He could tell you were scared, anyone a mile away could, and he wished nothing more that the evening hadn't gone the way it did and that you had spent every moment within reach.

He reached you in due time, immediately placing his hands on your upper arms, rubbing up and down, whilst checking your face and body to make sure you were physically fine.

"I'm so sorry, baby. Are you okay? What can I do?"

You stared up at him, before flicking your eyes back around the room. You felt too constricted to speak or move at all. Daniel understood; he knew you and your emotions more than anyone else along with your responses to them.

"Okay, lets get you out of here. I'm going to put my arm around you and were going to head out the back exit, that okay?" You just nodded - you felt that was all you could do. Daniel knew what you meant and knew all the words you wished you could've said.

He manoeuvred you in and out of groups, making sure no one elbowed you or pushed you. It wasn't a long way to get out but every step felt like it was further away and so much harder to do. Daniel noticed but there was nothing he could do if he stopped, it'd only make you more overwhelmed, so he focused on getting you out.

He did it well - even whilst incredibly overwhelmed and uncomfortable, he made you feel safe and secure.

Once he got you out, he led you immediately to his car but instead of getting in the front, he sat you both in the back so he could hold you.

"Where'd your drink go? Where'd lily go?" He questioned, moving his hand to your cheek, lifting your face up so he could look at you more.

Your eyes were red and puffy and we're welling up again as you tried to speak. "I don't know. One minute she was there and then I-"

It felt too hard to speak - Daniel understood though. He knew where your sentence was heading so there was no need in finishing it anyway. He dragged you into a tight hug again, letting you head rest on his chest and his head rest on top of yours.

The car was silent for a while except from your light cries and the odd whisper of assurance from Daniel. He felt guilty for leaving your side and not making sure you were alright but he understood that that wasn't important now, what's important was making sure you're alright.

"Can we go home please?"

"Are you sure you're ready? I don't mind staying here for a little." His hand was running through your hair carefully, trying to detangle any little knots but also making sure not to hurt you.

"Yeah, can we cuddle at home though?" you smiled, looking up at him. He broke out into his world-famous smile instantly, making it hard not to stare at his lips.

"Absolutely." he grinned, there was no way he was missing out on that and there was no way you'd let him.

He held your hand almost the whole drive home or at least made sure one part of him was touching you constantly, knowing that it'd keep you calm. You couldn't help but smile at him the whole time: he took pride in looking after you - he did it so well, how could he not - and it made you so endlessly grateful for him.

"I love you," you spoke, not taking your eyes off of him as he pulled into your driveway.

He parked up before he responded so he could look at you. He knew you had been staring at him the whole time and was quite jealous that he had to focus on the road rather than you. He knew it'd be okay in the end though: you'd fall asleep on his chest whilst his fingers were tangled in your hair, and he'd spend time staring at you - his favourite thing. He didn't care if he'd be tired in the morning, he didn't care if he'd done it a million times, because every day he thought he reached the limit on how much a person can love somebody else but the next day he breaks it every time.

"I love you too, sweetheart."

f1 masterlist (coming soon) |

[justastraymoa]

Unwilling Alpha

Chapter 6

Masterlist

Taglist

Y/n back in their hard worked for life.

Warnings ⚠️ swears, abo dynamics, mentions of slave trade, mentions of rape, mentions of abuse, mentions of death, fear, manipulation.

Nothing within reflects anyone or anything irl. Pics off pinterest.

-

My apartment, when I got in late, was the same as when I left it. Everything is so familiar. So very quiet. Too quiet. I had grown used to the Omegas and their chaos.

Groaning and hurting I collapsed onto my familiar mattress and fell asleep instantly. Physically and emotionally drained.

Early the next morning I dragged myself out of bed and got ready to get back to normal. Getting dressed on autopilot I didn’t notice that I was wearing a Stray Kids hoodie until I caught sight of myself in the mirror as I grabbed my bag.

The sight made me freeze. Pain shot through my chest, and my eyes burned with tears that I couldn't afford to let fall right now. I can’t lose it. I don’t have enough time. Right now, I need to change and get to work. There was a pile of things that needed caught up on, and the pile wasn’t getting any smaller by standing here.

Unfreezing myself I ripped the hoodie off and tossed it in the corner behind the door. I will deal with it later. I left the house in just my thin t-shirt and jeans, too lazy to go and get another hoodie.

I regretted that decision almost immediately after arriving at work. There was a location shoot scheduled and it was outdoors. I would be freezing within minutes of getting there.

Luckily Angela was there. She was the front desk receptionist at our store front studio. She did a wonderful job entertaining customers when shoots ran over or we were running late for one reason or another. She reminded me of Felix. Made friends so easily and was always smiling, always friendly and sunshiny.

Today, looking at her hurt because she reminded me so much of the blonde ray of sunshine incarnate, but that wasn’t her fault and I tried to remind myself of that as I approached her desk, fake smile plastered on my face like the lie it was.

"Hey Ang! Long time no see!” I greeted resting an elbow on the high counter.

“y/n! How was your vacation? I didn’t even know you were going on one until you didn’t show up! Where did you go?” She fired off questions quickly in her excitement.

“It was fun.” I answered generically. “Do you have a jacket I can borrow for the graduation shoot? I forgot mine.”

“Absolutely! You must have been somewhere warm to get out of the habit of grabbing a jacket this time of year. I’m so jealous!” She handed me a bright pink fuzzy monstrosity that I would normally never be caught dead in. It looked like someone murdered the pink panther and made a jacket out of him.

However, it was this jacket or freeze to death. So, I took the jacket with a grateful nod and slipped it on. It smelled like lavender, Angelas preferred perfume. I flashed back to the painting of dried lavender I had back home, propped up in the closet because I didn’t want to be reminded of Hyunjin every time I caught a glimpse of it.

The shoot was at an overgrown train tracks. It was hidden in the woods, almost unseen if you weren’t looking for the rusted metal tracks. It was drizzling just enough to make everything glisten. Perfect for the shoot, cold for those of us who had to be in it. I was glad I opted to take the jacket Ang offered. I would need to have it dry cleaned and returned to her soon so I could thank her properly. Maybe bring her her favorite bougie coffee from the little shop down the road from the studio.

The customer for the graduation shoot was a female Omega, and for a short moment, my blood ran cold because I thought she would somehow know I was an Alpha. The more rational part of myself knew that I had taken my supplements, and it had been plenty long enough that they were in full effect. There was no way she would be able to smell Alpha on me. But I wasn’t feeling very rational at the moment.

I took a few extra minutes setting up my camera so I could get my panic under control. The Omega and her Beta mother were giving me odd looks, most likely smelling my panic in the air even over the metal smell from the tracks and the pine smell of the trees around us. The mossy wet earth not covering the acrid scent of panic emanating from me.

My hand felt warm, and I remembered when Chan took it on the plane when I was starting to panic that the other passengers could smell me. I’m not even sure he registered what he was doing. He was just aiming to make me feel better. To make me feel safe.

Despite the pang of hurt thinking of Chan created, I brought that feeling of safety back to the forefront of my mind. Remembered what it felt like to feel secure, even as exposed and vulnerable as I was. I closed my eyes and remembered.

It worked. With a deep breath, I turned and started the shoot, setting up the female Omega in poses that showed off both the beautiful location and her.

Normally, after a location shoot, I would take the rest of the day to edit the photos or even go home and edit the photos there. But I didn’t want to go home. That was where I remembered soft socked Chan sitting on my couch with JYP not that long ago. That was where I smelled the clothes I took with me that still have their scents clinging to them. That was where I had Stray Kids memorabilia on every surface with their faces staring out at me. That was where I hurt the most.

So instead, I immediately got started on an in studio family shoot that was waiting when I got back to the studio. It was a large family of 21 consisting of mother, father, their 5 grown kids, 8 grandchildren, and 6 great grandchildren. The youngest being just a couple of weeks old. It was chaotic and loud. The children were running around playing and fighting with each other. The parents were trying to corral them and yelling at each other when the children wouldn’t listen.

Normally, I would be annoyed as hell. This was taking way longer than their allotted and paid for hour of time, and it didn’t look like it would resolve itself any time soon. But despite that, I found myself smiling fondly as I watched and patiently waited for everyone to settle down. It made me feel warm. This is what it was like with Stray Kids, and I missed it now that I didn’t have it.

Eventually, everyone settled, and I was able to get a few decent shots where everyone was looking at the camera and not crying. As I walked them out, I promised them I would have the photos ready in 2 days, despite our standard time frame of 1 week. Ang gave me an odd look when she heard it, but didn’t say anything about it.

I stayed well after everyone else went home to edit the photos of both shoots and try and catch up on some of the edits we were behind on because of me. It was after midnight before I deemed myself exhausted enough to go home.

I avoided going online or listening to my music. Both were saturated with Stray Kids, and I couldn’t bring myself to listen to them or read up on any news about them. The countdown clock lived in the back of my mind unwanted, but I couldn’t seem to help that. Soon, it would hit 0, and this would all be over.

I spent time cleaning up the house. Packing up the acrylic standees of the boys and the skzoo plushies I had displayed on a bookshelf. Boxing the albums carefully in plastic so they would be safe from possible flooding or water damage. I took down the posters and photocards on the walls in each room, putting them safely in folders or binders and packing them away as well. The shirts and hoodies, blankets and pillowcases, all went into weatherproof boxes and placed in my storage closet, carefully labelled.

Without all my stuff hanging up, the walls were very plain and bare. It felt like I had just moved in. Like the guest room I stayed in with the boys. All neutral and white. Made for guests and not to be lived in and personalized by any one person.

I convinced myself that it was for the best. That this was all a part of healing from the upheaval and heartbreak.

And it worked. I locked any pain that came away inside my chest. That’s where my heartbreak lived, and I was keeping it there until it faded away with time. I just had to stay strong until it did.

I firmly thought of something else anytime something reminded me of one of the boys. Ignored the weather when it was sunny or stormy. Even started favoring pastel colors in my outfits and photoshoots alike. If anyone noticed, no one said anything. And I ignored any strange looks sent my way.

My life was getting back to exactly what I worked for it to be. This was my choice.

💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

Unwilling Alpha Taglist: @xxeiraxx @hanniemylovelyquokka @breadedloafs @songleepark @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @hyunjinhoexxx @kayleefriedchicken @vietjeb @hityoulikebahng @juju-227592 @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @royal-shinigami @bangchansfavoritenoona @straykidslvr @bookswillfindyouaway @h0rnyp0t @Svmmerstime @jennibahng @kpopandmusicpassion

[cletimz]

| Glimpses of Reality | Chapter 2

Stilgar Ben Fifrawi x OC Fem

Wc: 1834

Paul Atreides was startled a little bit when he heard a familiar voice enter the training room in which he was right now.

“I thought you were going to Arrakis with Duncan” Mileena mentioned as she looked at the room and realized the strong smell of sweat in there “He didn’t want me to go with him, I even told him about a dream I had about this visit to Arrakis and ending with his dead” He replied to her as he kept cleaning the swords used while training with Gurney “Probably though it was a silly dream. You made good by telling him about it. It was up to him to decide what to do next” She sighed at the end and inspected the arms held on display in the walls

“Don't worry, Paul. In a blink, we would be in Arrakis, and you will be reunited with your great love, Duncan '' She added with a smile on her face trying to enlighten the mood of her friend as she knows how much he appreciates him. Mileena always found it funny how Paul would try to follow Duncan everywhere, even as kids he would be the same. “I'm not in the mood for silly jokes, Mileena. You better than anyone should comprehend how these dreams or visions, whatever they are, affect” The future duke responded as he went to stand next to her and accommodate the swords he was cleaning on their respective place “I'm sorry, Paul. You seriously do not need to worry about him. He's a great warrior. Dreams are only dreams. We can make assumptions about them and we would never know if we are crossing the line of reality or fiction until the exact situation happens” She looked him in the eyes and noticed the lost look in them. “We need to focus on the real dangers we are facing. Do you not suspect anything about the Harkonnens and their passive response at the house Atreides taking over Arrakis?”

He nodded as he listened to her question “Gurney was telling me about them. They are wicked. I am not sure what they are planning but the Emperor asked us to go to Arrakis so he is on our side”

“Try not to be too confident about that, Paul. You could never know the real intentions behind a political move” Mileena commented as they moved to the door to leave the room “You sound like one of those old men advising my father. Maybe you should be the future Duke, or may I say, duchess' ' They both laugh at the boy’s reply “The Bene Gesserit would have my head for that' ' The girl commented as they made their way to have dinner.

————————————————————————

Mileena was in her bed reading a book about the Fremen. She admired their way of adapting to the environment they lived in, not only physically, but psychologically. The girl knew about the resistance from them to the Emperor as every man ruling Arrakis only saw the place as a gold mine to be exploited. She wished them the best for their stay at Arrakis. Some gut feeling told her it was not going to be a long one.

When she was about to close her eyes, someone entered her room. It was Jessica. “Did anything happen? Are you fine?” The girl questioned as she saw the nervous look Jessica “The Reverend's mother is here and she wishes to see you” Mileena could not help to freeze for a minute at the mention of the Reverend's mother in the Atreides palace “Get ready quickly. She is going to talk with Paul first and then with you” The older Benne Gessarit commented as she left her room to wake up her son.

The girl was intrigued by the sudden interest of the Reverend's mother to talk with her. The last time they had a meeting was when she was 15 years old and Mileena found the courage to ask her about her mother and the frequent dreams she had about Arrakis. She didn't mention the man in her dreams as something told her it would bother the Bene Gesserit. The Reverend's mother told her that her mother was no useful individual in her growing up. She was no Bene Gesserit. She could not teach her in The Way. Mileena wanted to argue that idea and mention that every child needs its mother, but she knew better, so she did not question any further.

She was waiting in the hall when she saw Paul leaving the room and Jessica Atreides sighed with her head to indicate that it was her time to go inside. Mileena went inside and court to the Reverend Mother “Come” The older Bene Gesserit used the voice on her and her body and mind followed the instruction. “You have grown, what are you eighteen? Nineteen? Save me the unnecessary questions, young girl” Mileena nodded and responded in a nervous tone “I am eighteen, Reverend Mother. This is my last year of training to become part of the Bene Gesserit” The older woman nodded at her statement “That is correct and that is the reason I asked to meet you tonight. Your training with Jessica is soon to be finished. You would become one of us and you will accomplish your duties”

The woman continued examining her “Jessica Atreides was supposed to have a girl who would, in the future, give birth to the daughter of Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen” Mileena was shocked at the revelation made to her “I did not know any about that. Jessica never told me” This was something very usual from Jessica Atreides. She would never share personal information with Mileena. “Of course she wouldn't, she was busy raising her son into our teaching method. She believes he is the Kwisatz Haderach. However, I am not here to talk about Jessica and her delusions. As I mentioned, she was supposed to have a girl who would fulfill the duty of breeding a daughter of Feyd-Rautha”

The girl did not like where this conversation was leading. The Reverend Mother continued talking “She didn't have a daughter and now we need someone to fulfill the duty of this absence” Mileena knew what the Reverend Mother was about to ask her, correction, demand her “You will marry Feyd-Rautha and bear a daughter from him. You are going to stay a few weeks in Arrakis until we arrange your arrival to Giedi Prime” The girl was about to protest when the older Bene Gesserit used the voice on her once again “Leave the room”

When she was outside, she could not believe what had just happened. She was furious. She went to her room and started crying as much as she could. She would never find peace under the hands of the Bene Gesserit.

————

The next day they were leaving for Arrakis. Mileena tried to ask Jessica if she knew anything about what the future held for her, but she already knew the answer. She knew everything was planned from the beginning. That is why Jessica Atreides could not refuse to train her as she was in no position to decline because she decided to have a son. The only thing Mileena could do was to enjoy her last days with the people she had grown around.

“What's gotten into your mind? You look defeated” Paul asked her as she noticed the change in her behavior since the meeting with the Reverend Mother “Nothing to worry about. I just want to finally land in Arrakis. I don't like flying” The boy nodded “We will land in a few minutes” and they did. As soon as they went outside of the ship, Mileena noticed the influence of the Bene Gesserit in the people of Arrakis as they were chanting for Paul Atreides as they were told to believe he was the mesias.

As the first days of their first week in Arrakis passed, the Duke’s heir was almost killed. The girl believed it was someone from inside who tried to do that but quickly forgot that as Paul told her they were going to have a meeting with the Fremen leader whom Duncan had met during his mission. She knew how important this was, if house Atreides were on good terms with the Fremen, it was possible they would have a good future in Arrakis.

These days she noticed she stopped having those dreams about Arrakis and the mysterious dream. She thought if she ever stopped having those dreams she would feel like a charge had been taken away from her, but it was the contrary, Mileena missed the caressing and small moments of peace she would feel in her dreams. Her mind keeps wandering about that as she walks through the halls of their new home.

This day was the one arranged for the meeting with Liet-Kynes to check the production equipment left by the Harkonnens. It was obvious they were trying to sabotage House Atreides. Right now the Duke was in a meeting with the Fremen leader. She wishes to meet him and ask him about their people. However, she knew he would probably show disgust for house Atreides and would never answer her questions. However, this might change depending on the outcome of the meeting between him and the Duke.

She kept walking with an absent-minded mind trying to avoid thinking as every worry about her future would fill her head and she would rather avoid that. She was looking at her feet while doing so until she jumped into someone. “I apologize I was not looking where I was going,” She said as she noticed who was the person she had bumped into.

She immediately recognized the clothes as the traditional Fremen vestment; she figured he was the Fremen's leader of the meeting. He mumbled something in another language before he responded “No need to worry. Watch your steps, young lady” He said to her as he moved past and continued his way to leave the place “Wait a minute. You are the Fremen leader, right? Duncan told us about you. I am Mileena, Mileena Almad” she offered her hand to him to shake them “Yes, I am. My name is Stilgar. We have just finished the meeting, your Duke seems to have good intentions”

He took her hand in hers and shook it. As soon as he accepted her salute, Mileena felt a warm feeling of comfort go through her body. She immediately recognized them as the ones she used to feel in her dreams when the mysterious man would caress her. The girl stood frozen in her place and could not say a word. She missed that feeling “I need to leave. I am needed somewhere else. Take care of yourself, Mileena” She watched him go and she was fighting the urge to follow him. She found peace in her mind for less than a second and it was still enough for her.

there are probably many mistakes but I just want to post this chapter and go to sleep, chauuu los tkm💋🧟

[bookishjules]

what do you think Izzy was like post cohf but pre tftsa? bring on the angst

okay i can't promise this will be coherent, but..

the first thing that comes to mind is angry. like.. i don't think i need to contextualize this for you, but just to get us in the headspace.. she really just gave her heart away. put the emphasis on any word in that sentence and it not only makes sense but just feels heavier and heavier. she fell in love in spite of herself, in spite of her fears and insecurities, in spite of her efforts and determination. and why would that not make her feel like the biggest fucking idiot?? she knew. she knew that falling in love would only result in pain and heartbreak and that that was a life she didn't want to live. and yet she did all that anyway. she put trust in simon, trust in the universe, and of course men and the universe will do what they do.. so can she really fault anyone but her own naive self?

she externalizes that anger too, snapping at her family, being especially brutal when she comes across demons during patrol etc. and the worst part is, that that anger doesn't take the other emotions away, it doesn't eradicate the love she felt for simon, that she still very much feels for him. she thinks of him and her heart hurts and it only makes her all the more angry. i think she waffles between being glad she never truly said the words "i love you" and regretting it. because now those words are just curdling inside her, a constant reminder of what she had and lost, and it makes her sick. like no, she never gave them away, but that also means she has to harbor the truth of them in her stomach. the truth of how much she's come to need him, of how every time she feels herself breaking down because of the heaviness of reality, it's his arms she craves.

she tries to forget. tries to move on like she's always been able to, tries to deny him like she's never been able to, but it doesn't work. of course it doesn't work. she tries to go out, to kiss boys, but all it does is pull her closer to tears. and it feels a little like she's the one being disloyal. because her heart still belongs to simon. because she never actually broke up with him. he may not remember that they are still together, but it's not like he wanted to ghost her. he loved her. and if he knew her.. he still would. but physicality has always helped her forget, helped her push those strong emotions deep inside. so she trains and she goes dancing, and she even lets a couple guys take her home. but no matter how intense the physical side gets, the emotions just rear their heads even stronger.

she's changed so much since meeting simon, since falling in love with him. and suddenly she isn't satisfied by hookups and bandaids. she wants someone to listen to her, to see her. someone to protect, someone to hold her hand. someone worth fighting for. she wants simon. she worries she's ruined. she worries she'll never be satisfied if he isn't simon. how could she find that again? would she even want to?

and i say she wants someone to talk to, but she definitely is not opening up to the people who are trying to be there for her. she closes herself off until she can properly mask her emotions, but her brothers aren't fooled by her act. clary has the best success when talking to izzy. not because she can offer consolation in any way, but because she gets it. because they can comfort each other in the loss of this person who meant the most to both of them. and when starving out the emotions doesn't seem to be working, izzy decides maybe .. maybe she should try the opposite. so clary starts to tell her stories. she talks about simon the way she grew up with him, talks about his favorite subjects in school and how he cried at his dad's funeral and the day he came home from his first guitar lesson. and izzy knows it helps clary too, to have someone who will appreciate these stories as well. who will appreciate a glimpse into the world clary lost.

but of course that also makes izzy feel even less deserving of the sense of absolute loss she feels when it comes to simon. like she had this guy in her life for what.. four months? why is she reacting so strongly?? why must this love have such a chokehold on her?? but the way she opened up to simon was something so unique and new that.. it wasn't just losing him. in a way, she'd lost a piece of herself too, the piece she'd never thought she'd give away. and fuck. it had felt so good. in all the anxiety.. it had felt good to be vulnerable with simon. it had been a piece of her that she'd relented. not freely given at first, but by the end.. it was absolutely his. and he took it with him. there was no getting that piece of her back.

no matter how hard she'd tried, she ended up with a man who hurt her, just like her mother warned. but she doesn't want to be like her father, either, marrying someone he doesn't truly love, mistreating them in that apathy.. not after what she felt with simon. not now that she knows what true love and heartbreak are. so she thinks well.. i guess i'll have to live off sex alone.

but like i said before, sex doesn't work. alec says she'll find someone, jace tries to distract her, any effort her mom makes is completely brushed aside.. and eventually she finds herself hoping. it's naive. its fucking dumb. but she starts.. stalking simon. just a little. she attends his shows, and she pays attention. she talks to people who have interacted with him since edom, and she pays attention. is there a piece inside him that's broken too? could he remember me? remember us? how bad would it be to just approach him. to kiss him and remind him of the truth.

she expresses these thoughts one night, after having had a little too much to drink at one of simon's shows and going to crash at magnus and alec's place. and magnus listens. he doesn't want to give her false hope, but he also doesn't want her to sink so far into this train of thought that she ends up approaching mundane simon in such a self-destructive way. so he tells her that if they found enough proof, they could try to jog his memory.

then izzy find the poster days after the band changes their name to the mortal instruments and the rest is history..

[xerith-42]

Garrance Headcanons/Ideas

Help I'm falling down the rabbit hole

-Laurance and Garroth are a perfect example of the one who's been in love for three years and the one who fell hard and fast. Laurance started developing a crush on Garroth when they were in training and it slowly blossomed into deeper feelings when they found one another again. Garroth has fallen in love twice and when it happened with Laurance he had literally no fucking clue what to do.

-Laurance first fell in love with Garroth when he saw how passionate Garroth is about what he does. Garroth is lecturing some other trainees that are in their class about respect and honor and he looks so stern and upset when he does it. He wants to be taken so seriously and be a pillar for others to rely on at all times, and Laurance just thinks he's a total dork. Because he is. And Laurance loves that about him.

-When they're alone and actually comfortable being intimate with one another Laurance is really wordy, flowery and poetic in his musings about Garroth, faith, life, whatever he can go on about. Garroth is useless. All he can do is sit there flustered and stare at his not boyfriends beautiful eyes.

-The first time they showed real physical intimacy is after Laurance wakes up screaming from a Shadow Knight related nightmare. As always, he wants to keep it under wraps, but he woke up Garroth who will not leave him alone until Laurance explains himself. It's not the first time he's heard Laurance wake up from a nightmare, but the first time he's sounded actually in pain. He can't stand the sound.

-Upon hearing what Laurance was dealing with, Garroth sits next to him, puts an arm around him, and simply whispers the words "I'm here to protect you." And Laurance fucking breaks. He starts uncontrollably sobbing into Garroth's arms and he can't stop. This is the moment when Garroth realized he fell in love again. When he realizes he would do literally anything to keep Laurance safe and happy. Not because they're fellow guards, but because he loves him.

-They don't get many moments alone, so they dearly treasure the ones they do get. And even when around others, Garroth can't help but catch a glimpse of Laurance's smile and it makes his whole day brighter. Laurance gets to see how seriously Garroth takes his job and can't help but be in love with every aspect of him. They are so desperately and helplessly in love with one another and so terrible at expressing it.

-When Garroth betrays everyone at the end of Season 1, Laurance is completely fucking destroyed. He feels utterly betrayed that Garroth thinks he would go behind his back for Aphmau because Laurance is the one out of the three of them who recognizes the "has two hands" mentality. In his mind, there's a possibility they could all be happy together. He perhaps selfishly thinks he can have both of the loves of his life love him back. But Garroth thinks he doesn't care about his feelings and only cares about Aphmau. Laurance can't even bear the thought that Garroth doesn't trust him after everything they've said to one another. After everything they've been through together.

-And then he has to leave Garroth behind!! Just as Garroth comes to terms with his own feelings in the Irene Dimension, he realizes that Laurance loves him just as much as he loves Laurance. He realizes he was an idiot for ever assuming Laurance would intentionally hurt him. He glances behind him and mouths the words "I love you." Laurance is sure he meant it for Aphmau, but Garroth looks right into his eyes as he says it. It's the first time either one said I love you to the other.

-Laurance is flung fifteen years into the future and the first thought he has upon returning home is a crushingly empty feeling in his chest. He can't even comprehend where he is or what has happened because his heart aches at the memory of Garroth in that moment. He begins to mourn a man who isn't even dead yet. He mourns the love of his life who was just returned to him. Like he's so used to doing, Laurance mourns.

[s1m0nth3swag]

omg yes please write smth about Jill and Leon i love their dynamic so much sadly there is so little about them

Anon marry me for giving me a reason to write about them ily

slightly small drabble , because the brainrot is getting too much and I can't help but have thousands of strands of thought about them and I physically CANNOT make a simple story about them anymore. I NEED to YAP.

You stared at both your partners as they sat on the couch, wearing nearly identical outfits. Both tried to push down a grin as they looked back at you, mischievous like always. They were up to something, definitely. You sighed heavily, shaking your head. “Alright. What’s up?” You asked, soft giggles coming from Jill as she motioned for Leon to explain. “Well, we figured that you love us, right?” He started, and you immediately knew this was going into a direction that you wouldn’t quite like - you never did when they teamed up to annoy you. Which they did often. “I do love you, I don’t love this dynamic, continue.” You grumbled, rolling your eyes slightly as Jill cleared her throat. “See, we both have super duper dangerous jobs, right? We figured we should teach you some self defence.” She hummed, and Leon nodded along. “So you don’t get in trouble when we both are gone, of course.” He added. “No ulterior motives.” Jill quipped. Oh jesus. You were in for a treat, weren’t you?

Just an hour or so later, you had to watch both of them show you how to defend yourself - genuinely you didn't even care this much, you had taken self defence classes in the past, and both of them knew that. You sighed when Leon patted you on the back, his hand lingering a little longer, like it always would. You stepped in front of Jill, grumbling softly as you hadn't planned to spend today practically training with both your partners. You couldn't even get into a proper stance before Jill had already brought you down onto the ground. “Gotta pay attention, sweets.” She chuckles, and you catch a glimpse of her and Leon high fiving, before sighing as you get up. “Poor little thing can't even protect itself.” Leon grins, and you shoot him a glare, while Jill can't hold back a soft laugh. “Just you two wait until I strangle you in your sleep.” You huff playfully, earning a soft punch in the arm from Leon and a manic giggle from Jill, you roll your eyes as you realise what the two are thinking about. Some days it was genuinely like they were the same person, sharing the same goddamn brain calls.

A few days later, you come home to hearing the two have the most frantic discussion with each other. You catch some small phrases - something about history or such - you really don't care, they get like this often. You sigh, calling out that you're home as you hang your jacket up and put your shoes away, unable to keep yourself from grinning as you immediately hear them get up. “Important question.” Jill starts, not even giving you a hello. “How often do you think about the Roman empire?” She asks, and for a second you are definitely dumbfounded. They both look at you like your answer will decide life and death. “Uh… I don't know? I guess from time to time..? How come that's your question?” You wonder. “We were on this TikTok App because we were bored.” Leon explains, and you swear your sigh could shake the entire house. “So you downloaded TikTok… and then had a discussion about the Roman Empire?” You clarify, keeping yourself from shaking your head as the two nod. “I need to get both of you some sort of parental lock on your phones, I swear to god.” You grumble. “Oh come on you love us.” Jill hums, moving to wrap her arms around you from behind. “Welcome home, by the way.” She then adds, while Leon casually runs a hand through your hair before placing a kiss on your forehead. “Personally, I think about the Roman Empire and specifically its downfall every day.” He shrugs, and you hear Jill groan. “Because you're just not understanding that the things that were discovered during the times of the Empire were far more interesting than its downfall!” Suddenly you have a headache. “And you don't understand how intricate the downfall showed that no system can truly work, even if it was as great as the Roman Empire!” Leon argues back. You sigh again. “I'm in love with two idiots, aren't I.” You mumble to yourself, wringing out of Jill's arms to get yourself a coffee, because you were definitely listening to their argument-discussion for a little longer.

Obviously, you were right, because the two were still arguing over dinner. It was like taking care of Toddlers really. “Jesus, can you two shut up about Roman history out of all things? I swear I'll make both of you sleep on the couch until you get along.” You huff, and both immediately shut up. “The downfall was good, I guess…” Jill mutters, and Leon sighs. “Yeah.. I bet it wasn't as great as I really think it is.” It's incredible how well some little threats work on them. Especially since you know they both like cuddling up to you in their sleep. You shake your head. “Eat up.” slips from you lips in a sigh.

Just half an hour later the two stand beside you as you brush your teeth, yapping about some of Leons coworkers - Jill seems to know their names by heart, for some reason. Soft quips about the usual office drama - you're actually caught off guard when Jill recalls a completely different story about some woman in Leons office. “Just how much do you two gossip when I'm not home?” You ask, looking at both of them through the mirror. “Oh, just the normal hour or two.” Leon shrugs. “You need to get a life.” You grumble. “We have you, sugar. Don't need any other life.” Jill chuckles, pressing a kiss against the top of your head. “I'm getting us a dog so you two get out the house more often.” You mumble as you feel Leon wrap an arm around you. “But a cool one. Like a German shepherd or something.” He answers, resting his head on top of yours. “No! A sweet little fluffy thing.” Jill huffs, genuinely pouting a tad bit. “Jesus Christ.” You muttered under your breath. You really should've thought twice about getting into a relationship with the two most gossipy people, who also weren't able to properly communicate with each other. You loved them though. Couldn't help it, really. Both had snuck their way into your heart, and no matter how tired or annoyed you were, deep down you actually found them both adorable. Sometimes, their argues genuinely made your heart clench with how happy you were that both of them were well and safe at home.

[justalonelyslytherin]

Legacies | Eight

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Pairing: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Kazansky!OC

Summary: .Ana is left reeling and coping with her father's diagnosis while the mission draws ever nearer. Will she be able to concentrate on the mission? Or will there be another curve ball throwing her off her path?

Warnings: military inaccuracies, lots of swearing, almost/mentioned physical fight and violence, mentions of dying and being killed, mentions of parental death/parental loss

Wordcount: 3k

If you enjoyed reading this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging. I don’t allow for my content to be copied, translated, or reposted on other websites/apps. Please don’t steal my work.

A/N: This is a chapter I'm nervous about posting because you might hate me ^^'. Jake's an ass in this - which in my defense: I'm only using and enhancing what the movie provided us with. He'll also get his redemption & explanation of why he acts like that later on &lt;;3

Taglist: open, message me or comment to be added, will be put as reblog

The menacing blare of the alarm rebounded in her ears even long after the actual noise had stopped. Yet the memory of it kept replaying in Ana’s mind over and over. She couldn’t shake it. Accompanying the noise were images of her simulation flight.

Her failure.

Because that’s how it had gone. She’d failed. Majorly. The curves had been too tight and her reactions just seconds too slow. There had been no other way but to swerve and dodge the oncoming – real – mountain she’d careened toward. In doing so she had crossed the mission's margin, climbing right into the SAMs radius.

She was angry at herself, mad she’d screwed it up so badly. Had it been only her attempt, she wouldn’t have minded it so much but she’d pulled Omaha and Halo into it as well. Which was so much worse. 

And while Ana was sure sweet Bob and fierce but equally uplifting Phoenix would have told her that anyone before her had failed their run-through as well, she didn’t want to hear it.

Even worse than the feeling of failure had been Maverick’s look of disappointment. Ana barely managed to look at him. While he hadn’t said anything that he hadn’t told the other aviators too, it felt much more personal. She’d glimpsed it in his eyes, there had been this unmistakable look. Remembering it made her sick to her stomach.

Knowing no one had managed to even reach the end of the course without crashing into a simulated mountainside or crossing into the SAMs range should have been a comfort, had it been true. But it wasn’t and the debrief would only solidify this.

The group of aviators was filing into the classroom to take their seats. Ana slowly trudged along the gaggle of people, nowhere near paying attention. She felt weary with her shoulders hanging low, every other step careened dangerously outward to the side in an almost stumble.

If it had been only the training with its demanding parameters and exhausting conditions, she would have been able to stomach it but there was one more thing: Her father’s condition. 

The news heavily weighed her down. She couldn’t help but worry and it was this incessant worrying that distracted her from the fast-approaching mission. 

Her father seemed to have come to terms with his imminent passing but Ana had a hard time accepting that this would be the end. How was one supposed to be alright knowing their loved one’s time was limited and the end was rapidly approaching?

She could barely handle the thought. The news had thrown her into a deep and dark pit of despair, leaving her lost.

Surprise crossed her face and her head snapped up when a hand connected with the small of her back, gently guiding her forward and past the rows of chairs. Glancing to the side revealed none other than Jake steering her intently toward the first row. She let him lead her, her dragging feet slowly picking up speed to match his. 

At the front row, he nudged her toward the chairs. Patiently Jake waited until she sat down in the aisle seat before he took the one beside her. He didn’t say anything, in fact, he didn’t even look at her anymore. She understood the gesture nevertheless. She was thankful for it.

While he was still Hangman, and he made sure she didn’t forget it during work, something between them had shifted. 

He was the only one that knew. Not even Bradley knew and they were like siblings. She couldn’t tell Rooster and neither could she tell Maverick. They were too involved, too close. They couldn’t be thrown off their paths as well. At least they should be able to concentrate on the mission ahead.

Yet it still was a relief to have someone know. It made it easier to act like everything was alright in front of the others.

—

Maverick didn’t waste any time ripping into Rooster who had just finished his simulation run. Their run distinguished itself from the others in one detail. Even if Maverick was keen on ignoring it. 

Harvard and Yale had accompanied him but nonetheless Maverick singled Bradley out.

“Why are you dead?” He asked Rooster as the young aviator sat up in his chair and looked straight ahead toward their instructor. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Ana could see him build himself up, ready to take on everything that Maverick would throw in his face. She hoped they wouldn’t goad each other up again as they had done during the dogfight.

“You are team leader up there. Why are you– why is your team dead?”

It wasn’t Rooster that spoke up but Phoenix. She sat beside Ana on the opposite side of the center aisle. Most of the aviators had been sitting passively in their chairs, waiting for Maverick’s rant to pass and so had she done it. But now, with her fist previously hiding her frown the dark-haired female aviator couldn’t stay still anymore.

“Sir, he’s the only one who made it to target.” 

And this was the one detail that distinguished Rooster from all the other aviators gathered in the room. He had reached the end of their simulation. He had reached their target.

“A minute late,” Maverick noted with a sigh, biting on no less harshly than before, “He gave enemy aircraft time to shoot him down. He is dead.” 

Ana knew why her godfather critiqued him so harshly. The mission was dangerous as it is, risking a confrontation with enemy aircraft was something they couldn’t afford. No matter what had happened between them, Maverick still cared for Rooster. Perhaps even more so because of what happened.

“You don’t know that.”

Rooster couldn’t see it. He couldn’t see that Mavericks' much harsher treatment towards him wasn’t because of any ill feelings from their instructor but because of his incessant need to keep him safe. Bradley would never want it, he would never allow Maverick to protect him – not after what had happened – but that wouldn’t stop their superior from trying to do so either way. 

“You’re not flying fast enough,” Hangman sounded condescending as he butted in, barely glancing at Rooster one row behind Phoenix. 

It was a quick defiant look, one that cemented itself on Rooster’s face as he turned back to Maverick and reiterated,

“We made it to the target.” It was a clear dig, a bone thrown out for the feral dog.

And Maverick took it without hesitancy. He was slowly getting fed up, perhaps it was the intense need to keep Bradley safe that spurred him on. Taking a step toward the aviators, he leaned forward. His stern look centered on Rooster alone.

“And superior enemy aircraft intercepted you on your way out.”

There was no way Rooster would be backing down. Ana realized how quickly this was leading up to another fight between the two. One that was far more personal than the discussion of the flight simulation. There was a heavy insinuation underlining their words. 

“Then it’s a dogfight.” Rooster blew the last straw to crush Maverick’s composure.

“Against fifth-generation fighters!” 

"Yeah. We’d still have a chance.” It surprised Ana how relaxed Rooster’s words were. She knew that behind his laid-back attitude, his insides were bubbling with hurt and anger.

Able to feel the tension having almost reached its peak between the duo the other aviators in the room looked away, uncomfortable with the situation at hand. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Phoenix pursing her lips as she looked down to avoid the men’s argument she was pinned between.

“In an F-18,” Maverick’s voice was full of skepticism, and without knowing he had raised his voice. Rooster followed, his voice growing in volume and bite.

“It’s not the plane, sir, it’s the pilot.” Ana closed her eyes and pressed her lips together as much as she could. She knew where this was heading and she dreaded all of it.

“Exactly.”

Maverick’s single word rebounded through the room, suddenly cloaked in silence. Everyone held their breaths. 

Now the bomb had been dropped. The damage was done and irreversible.

“There’s more than one way to fly this mission.”

It was a weak attempt of Rooster to have the last word. Maverick’s assertion had him, judging from the distinct waiver of his voice that made Ana’s heart clench. She hurt for both of them, she hurt for them hurting – and they definitely were, as their faces were barely hiding the guilt and hurt. She felt powerless to change the outcome or their stances. From the beginning, there had been nothing she could have done to aid them in conciliating, even if she longed for the ability to do so.

“You really don’t get it.”

Her eyes jumped to the other side. Jake was looking forward neither toward Rooster nor Maverick. He sounded relaxed like the tension in the air didn’t affect him at all.

“Jake,” was her warning for him to not get involved and make it worse. 

“On this mission, a man flies like Maverick here or a man does not come back.” Now he eyed Maverick. Silently Jake took in the guilt-stricken face of their instructor. Did he enjoy it? 

Just like Ana, Jake knew there was more to this than the discussion of technique applied to the mission. It was so much more than that.

To diffuse the moment, or to add more fuel to the already stoked fire, Jake turned towards Phoenix, “No offense intended.” 

Bob, who sat beside Phoenix and consequently peered behind her to glare at the blonde, murmured with an acidity Ana had never heard from the otherwise shy and quiet aviator, “Yet somehow you always manage.” 

Her heartbeat picked up as everything loomed to spin out of control. Jake’s lips quipped upwards as he turned to her, no not to her, to Rooster. 

“Jake.” Once more Ana hoped to stop him, to get him to focus on her instead of adding insult to the situation. And once more her attempt fell on deaf ears.

“Look, I don’t mean to criticize. You’re conservative, that’s all.” Ana glanced towards Maverick, hoping he would be able to stop the blonde. But her godfather had his eyes cast toward the ground.

“Lieutenant,” with a  weary sigh he looked up. But Jake didn’t listen even to their instructor at that moment. 

“We’re going into combat, son, on a level no livin’ pilot’s ever seen,” now he looked back, directly at Maverick and added, “Not even him.”

Maverick looked at Jake both surprised and caught off guard by the direct hit of the young pilot.

“That’s no time to be thinking about the past.” 

Ana’s blood ran cold. A chill crept over her back as her head snapped towards Hangman at her side. There was a deep etched frown on her face as she eyed him. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Would he? 

“Don’t do this,” Ana pleaded – begged? – for him to stop, her fingers dug into the plush armrests of the chair. 

He wouldn’t listen. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Rooster,” Maverick, sensing where this was going to go, tried to pull Rooster’s attention back on him.

“I can’t be the only one that knows Maverick flew with his old man.” Ana sat up straighter in her chair. A cold feeling of dread washed over her. She knew exactly what Hangman was playing at, what he was about to do – to say. 

“That’s enough–” It was one more fickle attempt by Maverick to stop the inevitable. 

“–or that Maverick was flying when his old man–” before Hangman could finish the sentence Rooster had sprung from his chair and charged across the room. 

Chaos broke out in the room, clamoring and shouts filled the space as everyone raced to go in between the two men. In a matter of seconds, everyone had clumped around the two, multiple hands were pulling Rooster back as he was seething.

“Lieutenant, that's enough. Hey!” Maverick shouted over everyone, as their frantic voices had mixed into an indistinguishable mess. Rooster was hellbent on ripping himself free and physically fighting Hangman. He could be barely stopped.

Ana had never seen the man this crazed and out of his mind. It unsettled her as she practically stood between the two fractions. Sitting before Hangman, closer to the middle aisle, she’d put herself between the two of them upon standing up. Now she had one hand firmly pressed against Hangman’s chest to keep him back and out of reach and one hand stretched out towards Rooster.

“Bradley!” Even her voice couldn’t carry through to him, no matter how alarmed and warning she sounded, he was too blindsided by his rage.

“You son of a bitch!” His enraged shout trumped over them all. While Bradley was out for blood, Hangman on the other hand was calm as one could be. 

He shrugged off the multiple hands on him with a simple, “I’m cool, I’m cool. Hey.” All except for Ana’s hand. She was quicker than him in slapping his hand away and followed the motion up with a hard shove against his sternum. 

“That’s enough,” Maverick demanded, still mostly concentrating on Rooster. Ana kept glaring at Hangman. He didn’t spare her even one glance. She was fuming, silently willing him to finally keep quiet but of course he couldn’t.

“He’s not cut out for this mission.” With that Hangman pulled everyone’s attention back towards him, just as Rooster seemed to have calmed down enough to not jump the blonde any moment.

“And neither are you.” Ana’s cold, shaky words cut through the air. “You are even less cut out for the mission,” she jabbed, taking a step closer to the blonde. Her finger bore square into his chest.

“You have no concept of teamwork. You don’t know how to play nice or work together with someone. How the hell do you think you are anywhere close to being cut out for this mission when you could be the reason all of us wouldn’t make it back.

Leaving your team behind is as bad as being too hesitant.

I’m not going to watch you kill yourself up there because you can’t work with someone else for once.

Nor am I going to watch you be the reason one of us won’t make it back home.”

The words poured out of her one after another, each sentence more stinging, more personal, and more damaging. Hangman’s facade was a strong one but his eyes betrayed him. Too bad that in her own whirling, burning rage Ana couldn’t see. The hurt that flashed through his eyes, the quick breakthrough of Jake was entirely unnoticed by her. Much like the other aviator's reactions all around her.

Barely having said the last words and with her chest still heaving from both the exertion and the adrenaline of the moment, she turned around. There was not one person that didn’t step out of her path as she stormed off, down the middle aisle and right out of the room.

As if nothing happened just now, Hangman acted indifferent as he stepped forward. 

“You know I’m right.” 

His focus shifted only briefly to Maverick before he eyed up Rooster once more. Stepping nose to nose with the brown-haired male Hangman slipped past, waltzing out of the classroom in a much more relaxed way. 

Neither Ana nor Hangman were left when Maverick dismissed the rest of the group.

Ana was on her way storming through the hallway, less angry but still fuming. Her boots thudded against the floor in quick succession. She couldn’t put enough distance between herself and the classroom fast enough. Unbeknownst to her, Hangman was in close pursuit, quickly catching up to her breezing through the halls. 

“Ghost.” His voice was like an electric current shooting through her. A thousand tiny knives nicked her skin, agitating her further. 

“Ana!” She’d never heard him call her by her name before. Now it sounded urgent and too close for her comfort. 

In a matter of seconds, a hand wrapped around her biceps and pulled her back. Her back collided with the wall with a soft thud. Before she could even react, Hangman had caged her in with his arms, looming over her. He was so close that their noses nearly touched.

“Fuck off,” she hissed between bared teeth, glaring at him with as much venom as she could. He wouldn’t budge.

“You are lower than the lowest scum, do you know that? Bringing this up and using it against him! How dare you?”

“I only stated facts.” The calm, stern way in which he spoke with her frustrated her. There was the cold, emotionless mask that was Hangman. He was guarded and entirely closed off. 

“Yeah, right,” Ana scoffed.

“He wasn’t ready and you know it too.”

“Just like everyone else! None of us are ready for this mission and yet Rooster still has the best shot at surviving the flight to the target. And it gives you no reason to bring up their past!”

“It does if–” 

“–Oh cut the crap, Hangman. I don’t want to hear it!” She didn’t want to hear his excuses and even less so his twisted explanations. What could make him think it was okay to say something like that? Done listening to him and even more so done with being in his proximity, Ana shoved him off her. Hangman went pliantly, his feet shuffled backward as she freed herself from the corner he’d created with his body. 

She glared at him furiously once more, her intensity beginning to fray at the edges. Finding herself locked in a staredown with Hangman, the tension felt higher than even before in the room. Scoffing one last time Ana shook her head and ultimately turned around to march off down the corridor.

There was nothing that could turn the situation around at that moment. Nothing could make it better. The best way was to create distance. Between her and him.

Hangman remained standing in the hallway, hands balled into fists and face twisted into an angry sneer. 

“Damnit,” he roared, punching the wall beside him. His muscles were tense as he ground his teeth together. 

“It does count if it is what holds them back and distracts them from the mission.”

[dykesynthezoid]

Writing wlw/mlm hostility Nami and Zoro + implied zosan and loving my life. Frankly.

Sneak peak:

_

Bereft of ideas and overwhelmed with frustration, Nami found herself with the steadying firmness of the aft deck under her back. She’d retreated to the piece right at the stern where hardly anyone ever went unless it was for something incredibly specific. Unfortunately, hardly anyone didn’t include Zoro.

“What’re you doing, witch?” he asked, suddenly coming into view above her. He looked annoyingly sweaty and a little constipated, as usual. Nami knew he often liked to train back here, despite the fact he now had an entire room he could use just for that up in the crow’s nest.

“What does it look like?” she asked primly.

“Um. Looks like you’re lying on the deck with your arms crossed over your chest and glaring up at the sky like it owes you money. So, I don’t know. Sulking?”

“Hah,” Nami scoffed. “Our resident broodingest swordsman accuses me of sulking. That’s rich.”

Zoro blinked dully at her.

“You have a whole training room in the crow’s nest, you know,” she added after a moment. “Up a long ladder, on top of the foremast? Do you need directions? You’ve never been good with those.”

“Uh huh.” Zoro scratched his chin lightly, looking out at the midday sun. “C’mon. I’m busy. What’s wrong with you?”

“Oh, he’s busy,” Nami grumbled to herself, only partly for his benefit.

Zoro kicked her lightly in the side with his dirty, salt-crusted boot.

“Hey!” Nami squawked, jerking away and batting aggressively at his shins with a fist. If he felt any of the impact, he didn’t show it. “What is wrong with you?” She resettled on the deck, brushing off the dirt and salt now on her shirt with a haughty sniff. “Sanji would kill you if he saw that.”

Above her, Zoro huffed, his arms crossed. “The shit-idiot is welcome to try.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Nami said, waving him off. She shook her head where it still rested against the wooden planks, then was graced with a sudden thought. “You know, maybe if you fucked him already it would, like, fix him. It’s worth a shot.”

Zoro narrowed his eyes at her, tips of his ears going coral-red, but steeled himself enough to prevent any further signs of embarrassment. Luckily, Nami had long since learned to read between the lines of his glaring and pouting and sword-swinging.

“Think the sun’s gone to your head,” Zoro growled, but he was still moving to bend down fluidly onto his knees, joining her on the deck.

“I’m being serious,” Nami told him, raising her eyebrows. “Think of how many problems you could solve if you just nut up and suck a dick.”

Zoro looked almost pained at that, frowning as he sprawled out next to her on the wood.

“I know, I know,” Nami sighed, as if he’d answered her. She didn’t really need his input, anyway. “It’s the dick in question that’s the problem. Not that I want to think about it anymore than I have to, but I really do imagine it would do you both good. But you’re right, getting there might require actual communication, god forbid.”

Zoro was studying her quietly, peering at her through the shadows the late afternoon sun left on his face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said slowly, as stubborn as ever but sounding more like he was testing her out than outright denying anything.

Nami turned her head to look over at him, grain of the wood pressing into the back of her head. “Fine,” she said after a moment. “I suppose you could just wait until the next time you accidentally get a glimpse of his sock garters and almost brain yourself with a dumbbell because every ounce of that famed physical awareness has suddenly fled your body through your dick; that makes sense.”

Zoro only grunted in response, reaching out a hand to fiddle with the end of her long, thin belt that had flopped out onto the deck when she laid down. Nami allowed it, seeing as he was almost always easier to talk to when his hands were occupied.

“Is it about the cook? Whatever’s wrong with you, I mean?” he asked, apparently having grown wise to her deflections.

Nami sighed, tugging her lip reticently between her teeth even as she was forced to accept that the jig was up. “It’s Robin,” she said finally. “She thinks I should— Come out to him, I guess.”

[glitteronadumpsterfire]

if you still do these 48 + vinikki pls pls pls i’ll love you forever

“So…” began the butler, as he extracted the sword out of its scabbard, making the sunlight bounce on the sharp blade, “shall we begin your training, Vincent?”

Vincent pulled out his weapon as well. “That’s master Wharton to you now, Nicholas.” The young man snickered, as he gripped the hilt with both hands. A flash of rage and determination lit up his hazel eyes as he slowly but confidently made his way towards his servant, who began walking forward too.

As much as Nicholas saw Vincent's birth and always took good care of him, they despised each other. Well, at least Vincent hated Nicholas, that’s for sure. There was something about the way the butler treated him like a child, despite being well over that phase of his life, that got on Vincent’s nerves.

But today, the day of his 21st birthday, would’ve been the day Vincent showed him, and everyone else, what he’s made of, he would’ve shown the man he had become.

“Oh come on, Vince,” grinned the older man, raising his sword. “we’re friends by now, aren’t we?”

“No, we’re not.” Responded the blond nobleman, through gritted teeth. The nobleman tried to stay calm, to not raise his voice, to not let his adversary win. Nicholas was found by his family when he was still a hungry urchin living in the London slums, so who the hell did he think he was? That day, Vincent thought, his father should’ve minded his business.

They stopped a few inches from each other, with their blades touching, in a guarding position.

“May the best of us win.” Said the butler, flashing his teeth, his green eyes glistening with calm confidence.

“En garde, old bastard.”

The metal clangors quickly followed one another. Whenever Vincent tried to strike, Nicholas was ready to deflect his attacks, almost as if he could predict Vincent’s every move. Slash, slash, lunge. Vincent only managed to cut a strand of the older man’s jet-black hair. Their swords crossed, the blades slipping, and now it was a matter of who was going to get the best of the other. Vince was losing his balance, but he refused to give up. With an effort and a scream of rage, the nobleman pushed away his adversary, making him almost trip on his own feet. Almost. But Vincent had already let his guard down, not having the time to react when Nicholas sweeped his blade, leaving a thin, bloody gash on the young man’s cheek. Vincent held back the hiss of pain.

“Oh, that’s gonna leave a nasty mark!” Snickered the butler.

Vincent decided to ignore him, determined to not get distracted by Nicholas’s babbling. The fact that he got hit even once, it was already one too many. He managed to deflect another blow, but barely. Their swords crossed again, but this time Vincent lost his balance and fell over, making him lose the grip of his weapon.

“Well, well, well.” The butler pointed his sword at the nobleman’s neck. “Rule number one: never let your guard down.”

“Are you gonna kill me…?” Muttered the blond, raising his head ever so slightly, in order to take a glimpse of Nicholas’s face.

The other let out air of his nose in amusement. “It would be very hard to explain your disappearance to your family.” He diverted his armed hand away from the young man, and reached out with the other, to help Vincent get up.

“Right…” said Vincent, a bit hesitant at first to accept his help. “The butler is always the prime suspect.”

The older man let out a hoarse laugh. “Wait here. I’ll go grab some bandages.”

---

“How was I?” Asked Vincent. He didn't know why he wanted to seek Nicholas's approval, yet that question slipped out of his mouth.

“Not bad.” Said the other, concentrating on dabbing the wound with a bandage. "Not bad at all for your first time.”

The blond frowned, both from physical and emotional pain. “I feel like you’re lying to me.”

“I would never. " Responded the butler, calmly. "I mean it.”

"One day I'll be able to defeat you, you'll see." Mumbled the young man. "Then you're finally going to respect me."

Nicholas stopped what he was doing to look at his young master in the eyes. He smiled, thinking that Vincent was just like his father. "Here's the thing," he began, "respect is not given unconditionally, it is earned." He then put a hand on Vincent's shoulder. “This is my gift for you for today: a humble piece of advice. Happy birthday, master Wharton.”

Put That Guy in a SituationTM Ask Game/Prompt!

[falseroar]

Murder on the Warfstache Express

Part 7: Incriminating Investigating

((Abe and Wilford continue their search of the passengers' rooms as the clues continue to pile up.

Links to Part 6: Room by Room and to Part 1 if you'd like to start from the beginning.))

While Richard’s room was far bigger than any compartment on this train had a right to be, his assistant’s felt smaller than any of the other single rooms they had seen so far. It might have had something to do with the collapsible desk and chair that took up the available free space not already occupied by the seat turned bed.

Both pieces of furniture felt flimsy and cheap to Abe, although that might have been because just brushing up against the chair made the thing collapse into an easy-to-pack heap at his feet. The desk was a little sturdier at least, which was good news for the stacks and stacks of papers and accounting ledgers covering it.

Abe could hear Wilford nosing around through the rest of Mack’s belongings while he focused on trying to make heads or tails of all of these numbers. Wilford had quickly taken to invading people’s privacy, but then he didn’t have a firm grasp on the whole “personal space” thing before this so it probably wasn’t much of a stretch for him. By now, Abe had completely given up on trying to convince Wilford to wait out in the hall, both because it seemed a futile effort and because he couldn’t trust him to stay put or not cause just as much havoc out there where he couldn’t keep an eye on him.

Not that having him in the same room made it any easier.

Despite his being uncharacteristically helpful so far, Abe still found himself tensing every time he caught a glimpse of the other man out of the corner of his eye, or heard some small sound or humming that reminded him he was still there. The detective’s fingers twitched often as he restrained himself from reaching for the gun he knew wasn’t there, his instincts going haywire at the insanity of turning his back on a known killer.

Instincts that screamed and hit every panic button his body had when a loud, metallic snap went off just behind his head, screams that might have become a little more physical than Abe meant them to be as he whirled around and found Wilford poking at a snarl of metal on the floor.

“What the hell is that?!”

“Why are you shouting?!” Wilford had the audacity to shush the detective as he added, “This is supposed to be a stealth mission, isn’t it?”

Abe’s fingers were twitching again, except instead of the grip of his gun he imagined them closing around Wilford’s neck. Shaking it off, Abe asked again, “What is that, and where did you find it?”

Wilford shrugged. “I dunno. Fell out from behind this wall panel after I poked it a bunch.”

“…Why did you poke the wall?”

Another shrug. “Looked weird. I like poking weird things.”

 Abe slapped Wilford’s hand away before he could demonstrate by poking the detective’s nose and took a closer look at said wall panel. Like the rest of the compartments, the walls were a mix of wood paneling and sections covered by red and gold patterned wallpaper that looked nice enough, if a bit worn out in some spots. Someone had either found a loose panel or pried it away from the wall to reveal a small space between the compartment wall and the backside of the wall facing out into the hallway, used to run pipes and wiring up and down the car along with a bit of extra insulation by the looks of it.

It also made a convenient hiding place for…whatever this thing was.

Abe knelt down to get a better look at the metal contraption, pulling a pen from his pocket to turn it over without getting his fingers close to the sharp, jagged pieces.

“This looks like a booby trap,” Abe said.

“Oh, tell me more!”

“Like something a hunter would use. Set it up, hide it under some brush or leaves or whatever’s out in the woods, and some animal goes and steps on it and bam!” Abe hadn’t meant to punctuate his words by triggering the trap he’d accidentally reset, but at his words the metal jumped again, except…

Except while he had been thinking about metal jaws clamping shut, the metal sprung up into the air about an inch and a blade shot straight upward before swiftly retracting back into the confines of the contraption.

A blade that still bore traces of blood on the edge.

“Seems a bit convoluted, if you ask me,” Wilford said. “What happened to just a good, old-fashioned stabbing? No need to go and make it complicated!”

As much as Abe hated to admit it, even in the privacy of his own mind (although with Wilford around that didn’t seem to count as much as it used to), Wilford was right. The thing was needlessly complicated, for what basically amounted to a six-inch stabbing range once triggered, if that. It also seemed like a devil to setup and remove, judging by how the moving pieces tried to take his fingers with them at least twice in just the minute or so he’d been handling it.

There were other signs of the previous victim, aside from the obvious bloodstain—a few threads poking out, connected to a small piece of fabric wedged tight within the gears.

“Speaking of stabbing, can I borrow your knife?” Abe asked, flinching when Wilford flourished the butterfly knife before taking it and using it to pry the piece of fabric free.

“You sure don’t play nice with other people’s toys, do you?” Wilford muttered as he took his knife back and closely examined the blade for any sign of damage.

“Knives aren’t toys, and neither is this thing,” Abe said, gesturing with the device in hand and hesitating.

Up until now, he’d been stashing away evidence in his pockets to keep it from disappearing, but this seemed like a monumentally bad idea for this particular piece. As much as he hated to do it, putting it back into the wall cavity behind the loose panel was probably the best move for now.

“And if someone comes in here to move it, that should be incriminating enough on its own,” Abe said.

“Someone like us?”

“This isn’t incriminating, this is investigating,” Abe protested. “Although yes, sometimes they can and do look like the same thing at a distance…”

Something itched at the back of Abe’s brain and he looked back at the desk covered in ledgers and notes, until the itch turned into Happy’s voice, repeating what he said back over dinner: “owner and CEO of multiple enterprises, at least seven of which are currently under investigation for money laundering and fraud…”

Happy had known a lot about the rich idiot off the top of his head. More than the kind of observational stuff you could just pull out of your fedora after looking at someone for a bit. No, that was someone who had done his research before getting on this train.

Shame then that the agent hadn’t kept a notepad or anything similar on him that might’ve given away what else he’d been looking into, although considering Abe couldn’t even read his badge it would have just been another tantalizing clue he couldn’t do anything with.

“Just three rooms left,” Abe reminded himself. “Although I think I’m already starting to get a picture of what happened…”

 “Then what’s the point of searching the other rooms?” Wilford asked as he followed the detective out of Mack’s room and across the hall into Ms. Dorene Whitacre’s room, quickly identified thanks to the open trunk full of dresses, shawls, and other clothes underneath the window, along with a heady whiff of the woman’s perfume lingering in the air. What looked to be a hand-made quilt was draped over the foot of the bed, along with several extra pillows, while the other seat in the room had some half-finished knitting left out on it. Wilford picked this up, admiring both the needlework and the very sharp and pointed needles that came with it.

“I said I’m starting to get a picture, but there’s still a few corner pieces missing, and some bits of sky I can’t make heads or tails of,” Abe said, but he was barely listening to himself. He knew no one was above suspicion, but something about being in the older woman’s room left him with a feeling of unease despite the complete ordinariness of it all.

He could feel a judging stare on him as he looked inside the trunk, and when it became too overbearing, he glared back at Wilford and said, “Could you knock it off?”

“That is a lady’s bloomers you are handling,” Wilford said, and the detective quickly dropped the piece of fabric he had pulled out without being able to see it clearly by the lanternlight. “And I don’t see what the big deal is. Dorene is a lovely woman, who cares if she does a little murder on the side?”

“Literally everyone! Being lovely or nice or whatever else doesn’t matter if you go around killing people!”

“…Huh.” Wilford tilted his head, as though this were a new concept to him. “No, no, that doesn’t sound right at all.”

“Yeah, well, good thing you’re not in charge of this investigation then, isn’t it?” Abe asked as he continued his search, although being a little more careful about where he rummaged.

There was nothing too out of the ordinary in the trunk, aside from the pouch filled with an extraordinary amount of medicine. Then again, he supposed that wasn’t too out of the ordinary for a lot of people either, but he still took the time to check all of the labels just in case.

Heartburn meds, aspirin, eyedrops, antidote for poison, allergy medicine…

Well, one of those things was not like the others.

Abe tilted the bottle to better read the label. It wasn’t a regular pill bottle like you’d pick up at the pharmacy, obviously, and the label didn’t just come out and say “antidote for that rare poison you’ve got in your pocket, detective,” but Abe recognized the name.

“Why do you know so much about poison?” Wilford asked.

“Comes up a lot when your average rich jerk with a recently changed will turns up dead,” Abe said, pocketing the bottle as he straightened up. If he was going to be carrying around a bottle of poison, he might as well keep the antidote with it just in case. “Among other things, but that’s usually the big one.”

“Well, good thing we don’t have any of those around here, now isn’t it?”

 Huh. That was some pretty blatant sarcasm in Wilford’s tone. He really must have taken Richard’s comment about his fashion sense at dinner to heart.

“Oh, please, like I’d care what someone who decorates a room like the one we saw back there has to say about fashion,” Wilford said with a roll of his eyes. “Can we move on to the next room already? I’d rather Dorene not find us poking around her boudoir, if you catch my drift.”

“Do you even know what that word means?”

“Not a clue! But I like how it rolls off the tongue: boudoir.”

Abe shrugged, but felt like he’d found all that he was going to, and they really didn’t have the time to spend too long in any one room. He wasn’t sure how long Benjamin could keep the guests happy in the lounge before they got antsy enough to start wandering around or heading back to their own rooms, whether or not the murderer had been found.

“And just what do you think you’re doing there, friend?”

Although Abe would have hoped his luck could have held out a little longer, especially when he turned to see Illinois pushing the brim of his hat back to get a better look at the detective caught in the act of closing Dorene’s door while the petite professor behind him folded her arms and shook her head with disapproval.

Two rooms left, and of course they would belong to the two people who just caught him in the act of snooping around.

“For shame, whoever you are,” the professor said. “Poking around in a lady’s room without her permission?”

Wilford said, “That’s what I tried to tell him!”

“I’m not poking around,” Abe said, and she wasn’t the only one who scoffed at him.

“He was looking for clues to find the murderer,” Illinois said, in his usual, unhurried tone. “What any detective worth his badge would do in this situation. I suppose you were planning on looking in our rooms as well?”

Abe cleared his throat and instead of answering that asked, “Just what are you two doing out here, anyway? I thought Benjamin was supposed to be keeping everyone gathered together in the lounge car for safety.”

“Little missy here said she had something important to check on in the baggage car, and I could hardly let her go alone.”

“Do not call me ‘little missy,’” the professor said, and drew herself up to her full if still not very intimidating height as she explained, “I have something very sensitive and valuable stored in the baggage car, and if it was damaged during the sudden stop or tampered with in any way, we could have a very serious situation on our hand.”

“More serious than the murder?” Abe asked.

The professor scoffed again and said, “Oh, you have no idea. To be fair, I’m not entirely sure what would happen if it got damaged either, but my projections say it would definitely be on the side of ‘not good.’”

“Professor Beauregard was very insistent about that,” Illinois added. “And I thought it couldn’t hurt to check and just be sure. But if you’re wanting to take a look around our rooms, I think we’d be glad to take a little detour and open the doors for you so you don’t have to go sneaking in, then we can all go to the baggage car together. Safety in numbers and all that.”

Clever son of a gun. It’s not like Abe could turn him down now that they both knew what the detective was planning on doing, and of course Abe would want to know what the professor had up there that was so precious and dangerous she just had to check on it. Framing the offer as an invitation meant Abe could save some face and still look around their rooms, which meant he had to be grateful even while Illinois ensured he and Professor Beauregard could keep an eye on him at the same time.

Illinois’s smile was disarming even in the slightly unsteady light of the lantern, his voice so friendly and genuine that Abe almost immediately forgot his suspicions as Illinois gestured toward his own room and said, “Well, shall we? I’ve got nothing to hide.”

Abe nodded, silently yelling at himself to get a grip. He could not let himself get distracted by a pretty face during the middle of an investigation, not again.

“Not that there’s much to see, of course,” Illinois said, in direct contrast to the strange array of items littered around the room, from a coiled bullwhip hanging on the coat hook by the door to the map pinned to the wall, its surface littered with so many pins connected by bits of string that even Abe thought it was a bit excessive. He gestured toward the locked trunk sitting to one side and said, “Just a few odds and ends I’ve picked up on my travels, on their way to a museum where they belong.”

“Yeah, I can’t just take your word on that one, pal,” Abe said. “Mind opening the trunk?”

“Not at all, friend,” Illinois answered without batting an eye. He pulled a key from one of the pouches on his hip and unlocked the trunk, opening it to reveal a lot of packing straw and several bundles carefully wrapped in leather and string to protect their contents. “This little beauty I picked up at a temple in Ohio. For some reason the locals begged me to take it from there—usually it’s the other way around with these things, but who am I to judge?”

Illinois unwrapped the covering, and for a split second the lanterns Abe and the professor were holding illuminated the glimmering jewel, a second too long as both recoiled and begged him to cover it, cover it now, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts—

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Illinois said, rewrapping the terrible, terrible jewel. “Eye of the beholder situation, everyone else who looks upon it is ‘filled with madness’ or something like that. You know how local legends can be sometimes.”

“Don’t…don’t ever do that again,” Abe said, barely able to get the words out as his lungs struggled for air.

Beside him, Professor Beauregard was doubled over, and he could just barely hear her say, “I think I’m going to be sick…” before lurching toward the bathroom.

“Would you like to see what else is in the trunk?” Illinois asked.

“No!” Abe and the professor shouted in unison, possibly the only time either one of them didn’t want to know more about something.

Illinois shrugged and relocked the trunk while Wilford said, “I don’t get what all the fuss was about. Just some fancy little piece of jewelry. I want to know more about this!”

Abe reached out one hand and grabbed the back of Wilford’s collar before he could get his grabby little mitts on the bullwhip, asking Illinois as he did so, “The conductor let you bring that on the train?”

“What, the whip? Of course, I never travel without it.”

“But he didn’t make you put it in the weapons safe?” Abe pressed.

“There’s a weapons safe?”

Abe scowled, wondering if he was the only person on this entire train who had his weapon taken from him, and took out his frustration by pacing the room and checking every other corner he could find, even tapping the walls to be sure of no more hidden compartments before finally having to relent and admit there was nothing else worth noting in the adventurer’s room. At least nothing related to the current murder situation.

But, while he had the man at hand, he might as well try to get all the information he could.

With that thought in mind, Abe carelessly picked up an ordinary enough looking rock and turned it over in his hand as he asked, “Did you know the victim?”

“No,” Illinois said, plucking the rock from Abe’s hand and returning it to its place with undue care. “Couldn’t even tell you the poor soul’s name. Saw him in the lounge car yesterday and I meant to introduce myself, but never got a chance to so much as say hello. I’d hoped to get to know both of you better after dinner, but he wasn’t too keen to chat at the bar and you were…well, I don’t like to wake someone sleeping that well.”

“You were snoring very loudly,” the professor added, returning from the bathroom and already looking better now that the jewel of Ohio was locked away again. “I had to go back to my room just to be able to concentrate enough to work.”

“What about you, did Happy talk to you?” Abe asked, trying to ignore that remark.

The professor paused, brow furrowed. “Well, yes, he stopped by where I was working in the lounge before dinner, but I could have sworn he used a different name. Then again, I’m not the greatest at names and I was so focused on working out the math behind a particularly tricky theory at the time, so who knows?”

“And what did he say?” Abe was trying to be patient, he really was.

“Oh, that I missed a coefficient!” The professor clapped her hands together, eyes lighting up. “Silly me, don’t know how it happened, but that was just the thing to prove without a doubt that—that, um…”

She cleared her throat and admitted, “I’m not really supposed to talk about it, but let’s just say it was a really big deal, and proves I was right, and that’s all you need to know about that. Anyway, of course I had to ask him how he spotted that, but he just said he was good with numbers, which, okay, sure buddy, and he started asking me all of these questions about my work? He knew so much I think he has to have been working for—for someone who’d like me to say more than I should, not that I would ever do that, of course. Luckily the dining car opened then and I could make an excuse about wanting to sit with Illinois so he’d leave me alone.”

“Oh,” Illinois said, looking a little crestfallen while Abe was still trying to parse that firehose of information. “And here I thought you wanted to get to know me a little better.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’d still love to take some samples of your artifacts before you take them to the museum or wherever it is you’re going, and maybe do a brain scan while we’re at it,” Professor Beauregard said, adding in a low voice to Abe, “I suspect radiation or some kind of hallucinogenic gas would explain some of the things he claims to have seen on his ‘expeditions.’”

Abe nodded without really listening, still thinking about the agent who somehow managed to catch a mistake in the professor’s notes and knew all about whatever confidential project she was working on. Was she the reason he was on this train?

Now that he thought about it, swapping rooms with Abe would have put Happy just as close to the professor’s room as Richard Moneybags—maybe he had been a little too quick to assume Happy had decided to work for the rich idiot.

Speaking of the idiot…

“Did either of you know anyone else on the train before yesterday?” Abe asked, and their hesitation and waiting for the other to answer first said a lot all on its own.

“Actually, I knew Dorene—or rather, knew of her,” Illinois said, cracking a smile as he said, “Imagine my surprise when I found one of my biggest benefactors here on this train. She’s donated a lot of money to museums, and helped fund more than one of my expeditions to get a relic back where it belongs. Lovely lady, which is why it’s a shame we’ve only ever communicated by letter before yesterday.”

“You two just happened to be on the same train?” Abe asked. “A train that literally has less than a carful of passengers?”

Illinois shrugged. “I was in the area for work, she was doing some sightseeing, and we’re both headed to a grand opening of a new wing at a museum—she helped fund it, and I’m helping fill it with that trunk over there.”

“Please tell me the Ohio thing isn’t going on display,” Abe said.

“That? Nah, that’s…” Illinois paused. “Actually, I’m not sure what I’m going to do with it. Usually it’s either take it to a museum or return it to its place of origin, I’ve never been in a situation where neither one wants anything to do with it.”

“You could sell it,” Professor Beauregard pointed out, before adding under her breath, “Not that anyone in their right mind would ever pay for something like that…”

Illinois grimaced and said, “Selling to a private buyer is always a dangerous road to go down in my line of work. As soon as you’re willing to put a price on something, there’s always someone who thinks that means it’s open season to bid for any and everything else you discover. Besides, who cares about the money?”

Spoken like someone who hadn’t taken more than a few dirty jobs just to make ends meet, but Abe sensed an opportunity and took it to suggest, “Well, you’ve got one person on this train rich and stu-er, adventurous enough to make an offer if you change your mind.”

He didn’t even have to say the name “Richard Moneybags” to get a reaction out of both of them.

Illinois grimaced while the professor all but gagged again, but it was the adventurer who admitted, “Yeah, thank you for the suggestion, but I think I’ll give that one a pass. If I’m being honest, Dick and I don’t exactly see eye to eye when it comes to matters of…ownership. Namely, that he thinks anything has a price if you push the right people hard enough.”

Well, that sounded enough like a euphemism for even Abe to catch it.

“’The right people’ as in someone willing to steal it if the owners aren’t selling?” Abe guessed.

Illinois just shrugged and said, “Nothing that can be proven, but word gets around. Although judging by what he’s got on display in his room over there, my guess is that his dealers can’t always deliver what they promise and make do with what they can—bit lucky for them then that he’s not so good at telling the real from the fake.”

“Sounds about right,” Professor Beauregard said with a snort. “All looks and no depth.”

“Okay, I’ll bite,” Abe said, turning on the professor. “What’s your deal with Moneybags?”

“My ‘deal’? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She managed to say that with a straight face, and behind her Wilford rolled his eyes and took the opportunity to pull a large sip from a flask—Abe’s flask, which the detective suddenly realized wasn’t in his pocket.

Abe scowled at Wilford but had to let it go for now and focus on the professor. “Sure, like I couldn’t see the way you were glaring at the guy last night. Look, I get it, the guy’s an asshole, I’m just curious how you figured that out for yourself.”

The professor stared at him, jaw working as she started to answer only to rethink it over and over again until she finally settled on saying, “Mr. Bags has made a lot of money by having a lot of ‘ideas,’ and then paying other people to make those ideas happen. He’s also made a lot of money by making sure those people don’t waste time thinking about little things like the consequences of those big ideas until they belong to other people. I mean, this is just hearsay and of course I wouldn’t know anything personally, certainly not anything I could legally share with anyone here, but you get the idea, right?”

“Uh…sure,” Abe said.

“I guess you’ll still want to look at my room,” Professor Beauregard said. If she was looking to change the subject, she still managed to sound and look equally unenthused at her own idea. “This just seems like a waste of time though, you know? But I know it’s important to be thorough, and Illinois had to go ahead and let you look around his room, so it’d look bad if I didn’t do the same. Sorry in advance, I like to work while I travel and things are a bit all over the place because of the train slamming on its brakes and everything.”

As Abe had already discovered, once the professor got to talking it was very hard to get a word in edgewise, especially when she managed to say all of that in the space of time it took to leave Illinois’s room and walk across the hall. Still, once she unlocked the door and pulled it open for the others to see the interior, there was just enough of a pause for the detective to comment on the sight.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me!” Abe crossed over the scattered papers and books, hardly paying them any mind as he stopped and pointed at the very large and very obvious blaster sitting on the couch that no one had bothered to convert into a bed. “What is this?!”

Professor Beauregard shrugged. “Just a little something for self-defense. You can’t be too careful traveling alone these days.”

“She’s right,” Illinois chimed in. “I like to keep an open mind toward my fellow travelers, but there are some dangerous folks out there.”

“But—but this is…” Abe trailed off, looking from the gun that might as well have fallen out of a sci-fi pulp novel to the others in search of some sign anyone else saw the obvious problems here, but with no luck. He settled for muttering under his breath about the conductor and his stupid weapons policy before asking about the other “equipment.” “What’re all these machines for?”

“Monitoring equipment,” Professor Beauregard answered, slapping the detective’s hand away before he could press any of the large and inviting buttons. “Among other things. It’s all to aid my research, although now I’m mostly going through and trying to put all of the data together into something that even a bunch of monkeys in suits can understand.”

Illinois asked, “Are we talking metaphorical monkeys here, or…?”

He shrugged when the others stared at him and said, “I’ve seen enough to know better than to make assumptions.”

“Investors,” the professor with the same tone of voice she’d use to describe something she’d found on the bottom of her shoe. “I technically can’t talk about it, and I don’t see that it has anything to do with what’s going on here. What is it you’re looking for again, detective?”

That was a good question. If there was a clue here, he’d be hard-pressed to recognize it among all of the gadgets and gizmos, never mind all of the notes written in the professor’s neat handwriting, the notations all perfectly legible and yet still beyond any hope of Abe understanding a single word of it.

Still, he made the same show of walking around the room, checking under the bed and standing by while the professor opened her bag to prove there were no additional weapons hidden among her clothes, or among the currently unoccupied cases for all of the equipment arranged around the room.

There was only the very obvious blaster she just had lying out where anyone could get it, but seeing it reminded Abe of Happy’s strange, toy-like gun, currently tucked away in his belt under his jacket.

“Did you make that thing?” Abe asked, gesturing toward the blaster.

“Yep!” Professor Beauregard hefted the blaster up on her shoulder, the thing nearly as big as her torso, and seemed oblivious to the way Abe and Illinois both flinched away at the sight. “I put it together while I was testing some potential uses of the—uh. I probably shouldn’t talk about that, either.”

She hesitated and Abe asked, “So you didn’t have a source, or know anyone who might make other…unorthodox weapons?”

“Nope, can’t say that I do. I don’t really care much for guns or stuff like that, if I’m being honest.” The professor shrugged and added, “Not bad for my first time though, right? Still working on the balance, and it has a tendency to pull to the right a little when you pull the trigger, but that shouldn’t be hard to correct for. Not that I’m planning on needing to use it much, of course.”

She beamed at Abe, who hated to imagine what she could make if she were a gun enthusiast. As it was, she seemed a little too comfortable wielding that giant blaster, which made it a relief when Illinois was the one who pointed out, “You may need to leave that here while we’re at the front of the train. Sounds like the conductor fellow isn’t a fan of blasty things.”

“Oh, of course,” Professor Beauregard said, setting the blaster down while behind her two of the men breathed silent sighs of relief.

Wilford, on the other hand, kept shooting such covetous looks at the blaster that Abe decided he better cut this search short before the man got any funny ideas.

((End of Part 7. Thanks for reading! And my apologizes to the Ohioans (excepting Mark, for obvious reasons).

Also that puzzle reference Abe made is 100% something Sam Vimes has said before. Cannot recommend the Discworld City Watch books enough if you haven't checked them out before.

Link to Part 8: What the Engineer Didn't Hear.

Tag list: @silver-owl413 @asteriuszenith @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @95fangirl @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-star-eyes @shyinspiredartist @avispate @autumnrambles @authorracheljoy @liafoxyfox @hidinginmybochard))

[zangetsubornhollow]

Mixed Feelings

I'm not totally sure how I feel about this book. I was actually completely enamored by the book when I first picked it up. But, nearing the middle towards the end, it completely fell off for me.

Spoilers for The Magicians by Lev Grossman below

I don't know if I felt bitter that my ship didn't become canon ( Eliot x Quentin) or if I just didn't like the Alice x Quentin pairing, but the romance aspect of the book just didn't sit with me.

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Alice

I think it was dragged on and on. I really liked Alice's strong abilities and her being sure of them. But her character fell flat after they got together. She didn't bring anything except romantic drama afterwards. (I know she was the main hero in defeating Martin Chatwin, but still she was usually just a quiet bystander only appearing in scenes so Quentin could express some kind of emotion about her). I hated the whole Quentin cheating debacle and then he held very little accountability "Janet intentionally ruined a perfectly healthy relationship just to get at Alice [or whatever]"

I think I would have been happier if they had to get in a relationship that it ended after they graduated or no relationship at all. I would have been satisfied with a found family dynamic in the end.

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Eliot

... I can't be the only one who felt dragged along hoping for a glimpse of him. I was so sure he'd have a stronger impact on the story and on Quentin.

I found spoilers for the next books of him getting more scenes, but i wanted more of him in this book.

I felt like I was being teased by the prospect of a stronger bond between him and Quentin. Even if they did go out and party after graduation together and they felt they both need Fillory to find a purpose to their post-Brakebill's lives, their dynamic just wasn't fleshed out. I feel like we were told of their bond, but not showed.

Eliot had such an entrance and I'm not mad that when school started he wasn't a big presence in Quentin's story as he's focusing on school. But I'm surprised Quentin went home every break. I thought he would stay behind, knowing that Eliot stayed and did more bonding. Other characters would mention how it was strange that Quentin is on good terms with the Eliot and the he must be one of Eliot's. But even after getting in the Physical kids' cottage, they didn't really interact. Yes, you got a closer glimpse of Eliot's personality, but they never got closer.

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Quentin

I thought he started as a compelling character as a High School Senior who is secretly wishing that world was a bit more colorful and magical than the the black and white mundane life that he was living.

As a High Schooler

As a graduated college student. He got so whiny. Alice calls him out multiple times that he is miserable because he doesn't want to try to be happy because he chooses to be miserable. He kind of did a gifted kid spiral and never got back on his feet. It was so taxing to read about how miserable his home life was. How drained he was at the school. How he wasn't as driven as the other students. How he didn't excel at magic ( like he was at the top of his class and then went a year ahead. wtf is this guy on) I feel like we didn't really touch on magic either. Then after all the training went on we jumped into romantic woes, then the magic learning part completely disappeared.

(Also: I wished they got a clean breakup so bad

Which I don't even know if they liked each other because of their proximity and lack of other prospects or if they found something in one another that they were drawn to. In they end, they would have been happier pursuing their separate lives. )

The Magicians is seen through Quentin's eyes, so we have to deal with so much horniness. His eyes wandered everywhere and I didn't care that sometimes he was losing his focus on studying and wanted to just stare at his professor's breast. I really did not need to read that.

Also this made me so confused on who he wanted to get close to: Julia because he wanted her so bad, and she should have learned magic after all ???

The paramedic because she was pretty and mysteriously gave him the book and entrance to Brakebill?

Eliot because he was cool and liked boys, but never tried to get with him?

Alice because she was talented and pretty, but didn't want to get close to anyone?

Anaïs because she was hot and everyone else though so too??

Janet because she was hot and exciting?

As someone who did not finish the book, I don't know if he ever found closure and started to look within himself for happiness. But from outside sources (i.e. good reads, tumblr, and the magicians wiki) I am guessing definitely not!

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**Extra notes because I am a certified hater

Do I lack comprehension skills or did Quentin looking for Josh have no impact? Like Quentin was super worried about him in the moment, but never really showed his care for others like he did in that scene. Like ever again.

The whole 3some debacle ....wtf.....

i don't know why, but I wanted more from the original bar cast. Especially the bear.

Why was the fact that Eliot was a token gay brought up almost every time people talked about him?

I was so sad there wasn't more magical networking and communities. If they were briefly mentioned, they didn't really seem all that relevant.

What was the Plover story that he wasn't ready for?

Why did Alice not get an invite, but was accepted in?

Julia??? (I know she appears in later books, but still)

I wanted more interactions with other students.

[fountainpenguin]

"Suspense is controlling my mind... I can't find a way out of here..."

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New 130 Reasons Why I'm Fairy Trash update today!

Fairly OddParents || One-Shot - “Approval”

Read on FFN || Read on AO3

Find more Lavender Train story arc HERE

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A glimpse into 155,000-year-old Foop's life on the student council as he decorates the gym for a high school dance. Guest appearances by Poof, Denzel, Kevin, the von Strangle twins, the O'Terrae clones, Whistle, and Foop's betrothed: Anti-Coriander.

(First 1000 words under the cut)

40. Approval (~5,000 years after "Temptation" and 5,000 before "All I Ever Wanted")

Wednesday February 8th, Aurora 177

Year of Water, Winter of the Powerful Rapids

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If Foop had truly had an inkling of how much work it takes to run the school as its student body secretary, he may not have bothered campaigning. Honestly they were three years into the current zodiac cycle and he still hadn't decided if he'll run for the position again.

He probably would. He most definitely would, so he didn't even know why he was complaining. The one and only cycle that he reigned as student body president with Poof as his secretary, half the meetings didn't get their minutes recorded in any real detail, and Poof had typed every single document using the Central Star region's way of spelling Snobbish words.

And other minor annoyances… like, he'd written out directions once and called the first floor "second floor" and Foop spent 30 minutes flitting around in puzzled circles until it clicked that he and Poof were using different terms for their destination. He walked in late and his snacks were cold. Hmph. No one ever seemed to have that problem when it was him sending out newsletters. Atrocious.

And when Poof had double-dipped his hand briefly into the role of student body treasurer, the budget may as well have been sliced in half with the way Poof divvied up their things. Honestly, it felt sometimes like his counterpart flopped in his various roles on purpose just to make him miserable. He'd like to believe Poof was better than that level of petty, but sometimes when you were dripping with exhaustion and low on caffeine, it was impossible to tell.

Poof's on freaking peppermint a solid 70% of his waking hours anyway. A lot of help HE is. He supposed he could thank his counterpart for getting addicted to candy in a way that let Foop operate sober and without temptation of any kind. That was the only silver lining to any of this.

Foop despised his counterpart's peppermint habit, but like Darkness would he ever rat Poofy out to his mummy and daddy. No. They both relied on their parents' approval- if not for physical comfort and safety, then certainly for emotional support. Hard pass. Disgrace. Poof had far too much dirt on him to ever make him risk tipping their mutually assured destruction too far to one side.

My secret affairs with Anti-Marigold come to mind… His father will flay him alive when he finds out about that. An anti-will o' the wisp… Really. The prince of Anti-Fairy World could have done "so much better in a mistress" (and High Count Anti-Cosmo will painfully let him know it). His lecherous father was a textbook nymphomaniac. Foop would rather die than allow the pooferazzi to document Anti-Cosmo dragging his son out to all his old brothel haunts or… or… something like that.

Do we even have brothels in Anti-Fairy World? Who knows. That's not the point. The High Count undoubtedly did something scandalous with his spare time when he wasn't holed up plotting world domination, and whatever that thing may be, Foop would sooner sprint one billion kilometers in the other direction than ever face it head-on.

Anti-Cosmo didn't approve of the fact that Foop ended up on student council in the first place. Foop had cheated some of the vote (as he'd cheated it for years) by relying on bashful simpletons like Whistle to campaign in his favor while simultaneously threatening others into voting for him. He'd stuffed the ballot box and didn't even care. Honestly, part of him suspected the school knew what he was up to, and Foop took cruel pride in the fact that if he managed to do a good enough job keeping the school activities flowing, the faculty might simply look the other way. Oh, there's such a great joy in being wanted as a leader instead of merely feared…

Not that my father understands that. My position is secured someday, especially if I don't have heirs until I'm so old that my wand sparks when I use it. Meanwhile, my father will be twisting his neck, peering anxiously over one shoulder in cold anticipation of my rise to power until the day he dies.

Ah, youth. He reveled in it.

At least Poof knew how to lead a meeting that kept all the officers engaged. Poof had this animated way of speaking where he sort of gushed over his words, the long tails of his blue bandana ribbon snapping behind him in an imaginary wind every time he paced. He could sell a genie on underwater real estate. Maybe that was why the people kept electing him student body president year after year.

They'd been setting up for tonight's dance since before the window for early-morning breakfast wishes closed off. Well… Foop had, anyway. It wasn't really necessary. In a pinch, magic could always be whipped out to speed the process along, but Foop had his own… reasons��for wanting to keep eyes on their location for hours at a time.

He traced the pad of one finger along the dark scar that curled around his neck. Left side, just above the collarbone…

Cavatina Sanderson had slit that scar across Poof's innocent skin 20,000 years ago, during the same Autumn Masquerade where Foop first met Anti-Coriander. Foop had even died and regenerated a few times since then - not on purpose! (mostly) - but the scar wasn't his to heal. This same scar branded his counterpart's neck. It had been given to Poof first, and the stupid sync between their cores kept it firmly in place like a teeter-totter. Terribly annoying.

He never knew how to explain it when strangers asked. Wasn't even his battle wound to brag about. Or Poof's, for that matter… That infuriating pixie had simply backed his counterpart against a wall and shoved a blade right up to his neck. Poof just let it happen. And if he'd done it at one dance, Foop had no reason to believe he wouldn't make another appearance tonight.

Therein lay the anxieties.

[Cnt’d - FFN and AO3 links above]