#and it rlly felt like it was going to gear up into this huge thing instead of just being one last hurrah for rogue and johnny

[merlinmerlot]

I could play one of the most beautiful well crafted video games on the planet and it will never be as appealing to me as one that kind of sucks shit but has soooo much potential

[rattlung]

sorry this took so long! it kinda got away from me after a bit (it’s like 6k words so i’m rlly hoping this read more works on mobile lmao) and turned into a lot of introspection, as my stuff often does when it comes to mirage for some reason. hope you enjoy :^) and ty for sending smth in

(yeah ik mystik keeping in contact through fuckin fan mail is a bit of a stretch especially since crypto mentions burning letters, implying communication through paper, but it was the only thing i could come up with and i didn’t want this to take longer than necessary. just kinda shrug it off because at this point - eh yknow??? the letter mirage comes across is based off the one crypto sends to mystik in the loading screen with him and gibby

also, i looked up a ton of different sites and even checked the wiki but i’m still nervous about crypto’s name and how to write it properly. if i’m still doing it wrong, please please PLEASE let me know. i will literally rewrite this entire thing lmao)

established relationship kinda idk and also set in a kinda canon divergent au where the games hold seasons that last a few months with set teams

----=----

Despite popular belief, Elliott was a smart guy. He lived and studied under his mother, an amazing engineer in her own right, and even had a huge part in the development of some of the tech he used in the arena. It’s just that, sometimes, even he forgot about his own intelligence. Standing next to his fellow legends, it was like any confidence he had left in one fell swoop. He would stutter under their gazes and second guess himself on anything he said the second he said it. It’s something he’d always berate himself on later when he’s alone in his dorm where no one could see him.

Because he was smart. He’d tell himself that when he looked at his own smiling face, as surrounded as he was by it. Apex merch, some fanart, some cutouts they had stood up in stores he’d been sent. Elliott would stare at it all and remind himself that Mirage in the media was who he was. He’d gotten to legend status on his own, and that wasn’t something to write off. He was as intelligent as the rest of them, he just needed to remember that.

Though, admittedly, it did take Elliott a good minute to realize that the message he’d been sent wasn’t for him.

But, in his defense, this wasn’t an issue that had ever come up before. After their breach that forced them to move planets, the Apex Team had taken extra precautions when it came to legends getting fan mail. Elliott hadn’t blamed them, but he still couldn’t help but raise a brow at the extent they went to. In his opinion, it was just, like, two steps above sending it in on paper the old fashioned way. Honestly, that would go faster, since that didn’t need to be scoured by security software. Sometimes the dates lagged by so much that Elliott would get things months after a someone sent it.

So, yes, it did require a few read through’s for him to parse what was going on in the small paragraph. To be fair, it had his name in it. Don’t act so pretentious, TJ, everyone knows who Mirage is. The rest of the message was written in the same way: to someone who wasn’t actually Elliott and from someone who’s seemingly exchanged letters with this “TJ” before.

Maybe the program was on the fritz, picked out Elliott’s alias and sent it over to his inbox. It was something worth mentioning to the higher ups, because that absolutely had to be a liability in their new safety protocols. But more importantly - and definitely the thing he was going to address first - who was this letter for? Who was TJ?

There were only a few options, as most of the legends had opted to come forth with their real names when signing up for the Games. Elliott knew Bloodhound still operated under a veil of mystery, but he doubted they could be TJ. From what he remembered when he walked passed their dorm - which was usually something he tried to do quickly, since the bird Hound kept in there with them seemed to like Elliott only a little more than it liked Pathfinder - they didn’t even have a computer set up. No contact to the outside world unless it was through interviews.

Wraith just recently came across her name, Elliott remembered. She’d mentioned it in passing before disappearing for a few weeks in an abrupt request for time off. Wraith never really talked to anyone, so it kind of made sense. Everyone needed someone to vent to, even if it was about Elliott. What could TJ stand for? Taylor Jenkins? Tanya Jones?

Tilly Junior.

But then again, it really could have been any of them. Elliott wouldn’t put it passed Caustic to be using a fake name. Any of them could be using a fake name, and he doubted going around and asking would get him anywhere. 

Elliott let the holopad slip onto the cushion of the couch he’d been lounging on, his head falling back to thump against the wall. Crypto would be able to help with the new mystery, that was at least something he was sure of. The amount of badgering and begging needed to actually get the hacker to relent and do any helping? Now that was unknown as well. 

In the months that the season encompassed, he and Crypto ended up getting closer than probably either of them would have liked - at least in the beginning. Elliott couldn’t imagine what he would have thought then if he was told that most of his nights out of the arena would be spent at the other’s side, in his dorm, Crypto fiddling with some of the tech Elliott had lying around as Elliott himself talked his ear off.

Crypto was a good listener, he found. It was something in the quiet he maintained around him, a whole lot different than, say, Bloodhound’s. Not that Bloodhound was cold and off-putting; it was more so like what Elliott imagined stepping into an ancient library would be like. Something about Bloodhound made anything above a whisper seem too loud, and out of respect for said library, Elliott left them alone.

And then there was that time Crypto had caught Elliott staring at him when he blasted Caustic with a Charge Rifle from about 300 meters away. The only thing he’d done was give Elliott that knowing smirk then followed it up with an honest to god wink. Elliott was gone after that. 

Things had changed in a steady progression. Instead of Elliott being the one to find him, Crypto would seek him out rather than hide away in his own dorm. When Elliott would invite him to his dorm, mostly joking, Crypto would surprise him by accepting. There wasn’t any verbal confirmation in the shift, though, and sometimes Elliott would worry about it, wonder if he was reading too much into things. Not that it was a big deal. He never cared much about labels, except when he really, really did.

But then Crypto would sometimes push Elliott against a wall in the downtime during the games while they were looting, or even when they were just hanging out. He’d silence ramblings by covering Elliott’s mouth with his own, and who was Elliott to tell him no? 

They were close, now, yes, but for as good as Crypto listened, he didn’t talk much. It was something Elliott attempted to change. He tried to get him to open up in various ways, but the longest he’s ever gotten Crypto to talk was when he asked about the Holo Gear Mirage used on the field. Even then, Elliott did most of the talking. He’d gushed about his mom, how she did a lot of the work and he handled more of the fine tuning, reminisced about their workshop, the long days they used to spent together. Elliott remembered picking up something different from Crypto, then, something almost sad. Like maybe he’d been missing something, too.

Elliott never got to ask about it. Crypto had retreated to his own quarters pretty fast after that. He was too confused to wonder what he’d done wrong, and the worry was put to rest before he ever actually got to worry about it at all when Crpyto sidled up next to him the next day right before the drop. The situation just reaffirmed that there was a lot that Elliott didn’t know, like what kept Crypto so quiet, who he thought about when Elliott talked about working with his mother, what he always seemed to be working on when he was alone.

Or his name, Elliott realized.

After a pause, he scrambled back into a sitting position and grabbed the holopad again. There was public information on every legend that signed up for the Games, but the last he’d checked there had been something wrong with the page dedicated to Crypto. It showed multiple different error codes that were random upon opening the page and sometimes it would even crash a browser entirely. Forums still existed, though, and Elliott would use that to his advantage.

Quietly, in the back of his mind, he felt guilty, felt like he was doing something he shouldn’t.

A lot of the threads were just talking about the recent games and Crypto’s happenings in them. They talked about his marksmanship, which was pretty impressive, Elliott had to say. It wasn’t until a few minutes of scrolling - spent looking through GIFs and videos of highlights, that he won’t admit to - brought him to a specific thread. The person who posted was wondering about the drone Crypto had in his possession, asking about its name, speculating on the model. The top comment on it claimed to have spent time behind the scenes on the Apex Games Production team and declared that the drone Crypto used had a lot of similarities to the ones they use to film the Games. 

The next comment didn’t exactly discredit the correlation, but they did say it was likely that the drone’s blueprint was leaked and got sold to another company, not Crypto having the clearance to use Apex equipment.

I doubt they’d let him have one of the official ones, with all the controversy surrounding them, the commenter said.

Elliott bit the inside of his cheek and narrowed his eyes in thought. It was a stretch, but it didn’t stop him from backing out of the forum and searching “apex filming drones”.

The first result wasn’t a link to the Apex Game’s website. It was another website with comment threads, its title “look what i found???”.

So, Elliott did.

i was doing some VERY LEGAL digging around, because i was wondering where the new guy came from and all that, but there’s literally NOTHING that isn’t hidden behind encrypted messes that would take like ten years to get through but when i tried, i got something on some dude named hyeon kim but when i went around looking for more i found this

??????

Below the post was a screenshot of an article from a news site called Outlands’ Journal. Elliott read it over, but the only thing he processed was “Disgraced computer technician, Tae Joon Park” and “Mystik, Joon’s former caretaker”.

And then, a little more down, was the comment, “Isn’t that the dude who’s wanted for murdering his sister or something?”

----=----

Despite popular belief, Elliott was a smart guy. In that moment, though, it really didn’t seem like a good thing.

----=----

The decision was one he made almost subconsciously: Elliott was not going to tell anyone what he’d found. 

How would anyone even believe it? Elliott was hardly sure he even believed it. Spoken out loud, it would seem like such a tin-foil-hat conspiracy, and it’s not like he could use the thread he’d found the information in to back the claim up. He’d checked it again when he woke the next day, wanting to make sure he hadn’t had some fever dream, but the entire thread had disappeared. Even the account it was posted from was wiped from the site. On a whim, he checked his history and went to the link directly, but that only got him an error page.

The code was something he remembered from Crypto’s buggy Legend profile.

Elliott had almost been late getting ready for the games, he sat there for so long and stared at it. Luckily, the turbulence that signified they were getting close to the closed off arena literally jolted him as a physical reminder. Elliott shook his head and stood, making his way over to the collapsible, garage-like door in order to pull it down.

Isn’t that the dude who’s wanted for murdering his sister?

He was almost regretful that he wanted to go looking for more information. What if Crypto was somehow able to track the searches that were relevant to the article? That could be how the thread was taken down so fast, how the account disappeared. Was that what he was doing all the time, bent over his computer? Working to hide what he’d done?

Why even join the Apex Games, a program that was widely broadcasted across planets? Wouldn’t he want to keep a low profile? How did he even get the clearance to sign up? The producers had run background check after background check when Elliott had been brought in for an interview. So his public intoxication got put under the microscope, but the murderer they let in for free?

And yet, that didn’t sound right, even when he thought it. Sure, yeah, they all technically participated in a blood sport - but the technically was heavily implied. No one actually ever died; sometimes bones were broken and people had to retire after a serious injury, but that was just about it. Everyone who signed up was capable of killing.

But capability of killing was different than cold blooded murder. At least in Elliott’s opinion.

He was just pulling on the last of his Holo Gear when the door rattled in its frame. “Pull y’self outta bed, we got a game to win!” 

“Door is closed for privacy,” Mirage berated.

Lifeline only cackled shortly before replying with, “I ain’t lookin’ at you, am I?”

Mirage pulled the door up so she could see his put-off pouting, which didn’t do much of anything besides getting her to laugh again. He followed her into the loading bay, passing Bloodhound and Wraith. They each gave him a respectful nod, always frighteningly eager to board their dropping platform. Still, Mirage responded with a courteous wink and two solid finger guns.

As the automated commentator announced the approaching drop zone, Mirage was suddenly very aware of the empty space beside him being taken up by another person. At first, neither of them said anything, but that was weird for him, so he had to say something, didn’t he?

“Fashionably late, as always,” he greeted, going for something half-joking, half-flirty. Honestly, he would proudly say he hit the mark, but Crypto didn’t say anything back. “Long night?”

Then, a too long second of silence fell between them as the dropping platforms began to hiss. Freezing air blasted, chilling his face, blowing his hair around, but it wasn’t the reason why his blood went cold in his veins. A voice went off in his head almost like an alarm. He knows, it said. He knows you found out. He knows.

“Always,” Mirage heard, just barely above the wind whipping between them. 

And it was stuff like that that made him felt immediately guilty for the fear he held just moments before. There was that haunted, pained tone that took hold of Crypto’s voice that Mirage always seemed to catch when he knew he wasn’t supposed to. Just like how he caught something like longing when Mirage had spoken of his mother. How Crypto’s empathy felt different than others when Mirage mentioned his brothers.

He didn’t talk often, sure, but Crypto couldn’t stop himself from expressing in some ways. Not around Mirage, not anymore.

Obviously, there was the possibility that Crypto had done something - that very specific something - but Mirage just couldn’t see it. He had that gut feeling, and following those types of feelings got him to where he was right then. Standing among Legends.

Legends, and Tae Joon Park.

----=----

It’s about a month of doing his best of forgetting what he’d uncovered when he realized a problem he’d overlooked. Elliott had already come to the conclusion that Tae Joon and Mystik were close, close enough to risk each other’s safety by maintaining their pen pal status. They kept in contact that way, so the fluke Elliott had gotten in his inbox was not the first letter that had ever been sent between them.

Which meant that Crypto was going to be expecting a letter from his former caretaker that Elliott didn’t know how to give him without starting a shit show.

Just another thing to add to the reasons he wasn’t getting sleep at night, because “doing his best to forget” was awfully hard. Tae Joon’s silences were just periods of dreadful anticipation to him now. Every time they were together and the tapping on Crypto’s keyboard would pause, Elliott would expect to look up to see Crypto already staring at him, glaring, asking him how long Elliott had known - 

But Tae Joon’s eyes would be on the monitor when Elliott would brave looking up, watching text wrap around the screen at all kinds of speeds. Sometimes it would freeze all at once, certain words blinking, and a corner of Tae Joon’s mouth would pull in an annoyed grimace - meaning he’d done something wrong, and the typing would start back up with a new kind of spiteful energy to it. Elliott would go back to what he was doing, wishing he could let out the breath he felt he’d been constantly holding, because sooner or later the typing would stop again.

Elliott was stressed out of his mind and it was starting to affect his performance on the field, but a horrible, evil little part of himself relished in knowing something others didn’t. That stupid, childish thrill of secret keeping. He wanted to hold it close to where no one else could see it, because he really, really wanted to. If not telling anyone meant protecting Tae Joon, then he wouldn’t tell a soul - even if that included Tae Joon himself.

But that was kind of backwards, wasn’t it? He was literally harboring a criminal, wasn’t he? Regardless of what Elliott’s stupid gut told him. Crypto was wanted for murder - but what was he supposed to do? Tell the authorities and get a potentially innocent man potentially killed? Or tell Tae Joon himself and be proven wrong, find out the very dead way that people Elliott found attractive really are out to get him. 

Knowing what he did and not doing anything about it was dangerous either way. Hence the trouble sleeping.

People were starting to notice, too. Tae Joon noticed - and it was stuff like that that was going to get Elliot into trouble. He found himself switching the names around in his head. Tae Joon Park and Crypto were now interchangeable; the only way he avoided not messing up out loud and inadvertently revealing himself and what he knew was just by... not talking. 

Which was hard to do. 

It was easier than trying to condition himself to stop using the name, though. Because Elliott liked knowing it. There was a certain level of intimacy to it; it felt different now whenever Crypto would corner him or when he’d let Elliott turn him away from his computer. It felt like he was holding someone more, in a way. Not a mystery, but a person. He was holding someone. He was holding Tae Joon, kissing Tae Joon in secret, making a mess of Tae Joon’s bed. It was so much, and in those moments the secret was something he almost couldn’t bear. He’d just barely hold himself back from breathing the name, he’d bite his tongue to stop it.

And then the guilt would flood into his head, because he was lying. It felt so wrong to know this when Tae Joon wasn’t the one to tell him. So, Elliott withdrew. He was polite in the games, communicated as much as necessary, still bantered with Lifeline. Slowly he weaned himself off of flirting with their other teammate and reverted back to the beginning of the season. Except, not quite, really. Even in the beginning Elliott couldn’t help himself when it came to Crypto, but back then it was petty arguments that he didn’t know he craved. Now, it wasn’t much of anything besides civility.

The worst part of it might have been that Tae Joon never asked why. He allowed the regression to happen nonchalantly, but that was on purpose. Every so often, Elliott would still get pushed against a wall, when no one else was around. Tae Joon wouldn’t ask why Elliott didn’t talk to him, didn’t visit him, didn’t invite him to his dorm anymore. He would just kiss him, hard, desperate. It was almost like it wasn’t surprising to him. Like maybe Tae Joon had been waiting for it to end the entire time.

Shame would tear Elliott up after he’d pull away without a word. It would tear him up even worse when the next time Elliott saw him, Tae Joon would act as if nothing happened. Business as usual.

----=----

It had to end in some way, so Elliott really shouldn’t have been shocked when it actually happened - or that it was his fault that it went down the way it did.

----=----

He never had liked fighting Wraith. Mirage had been on her squad a few seasons ago and they’d spent a lot of their time in the arena watching the other work. So Mirage knew her tricks, but worst of all, Wraith knew his. Besides his good looks, charm, and being a crack shot with the Wingman, tricks were just about all Mirage had. 

She had followed the sounds of his footsteps when he’d cloaked earlier in the gunfight to heal, weaving through the decoys he’d dropped without skipping a beat. It was a mess of bursts from SMGs, Wraith phasing away to duck behind cover. Another few bursts and MIrage would get sprayed down, only to disintegrate into lights and have him reappear around another corner. 

Mirage strained to hear over the firing outside for her footsteps, placing her somewhere downstairs. He continued up, for once being grateful for the Skyhook buildings and the buffer they provided with their multiple levels. It gave him time to repair the damage done to his shields as Wraith presumably did the same before she began her chase again. They were bound to run out of supplies and floors at some point, but all Mirage needed to do was buy time for his teammates to secure their kills so they could come and take her off his hands.

It was a good plan up until it stopped working. Thing was, Wraith was fast, and Mirage was learning that if you’re not in her squad as often as you used to be, you forget just how fast she could be.

He heard the cocking of a Peacekeeper after he was a few paces onto the roof, which is also when he remembered seeing a fucking zipline in the building on his way toward the stairs. He hadn’t thought about it, immediately stored it under the dumb idea section; zipping straight up to the top floor just for Wraith to light him up and have him fall straight back down like a ton of bricks? No thank you, he’d take the stairs.

“Fuck,” Mirage said quickly, just as a shotgun blast exploded in front of him. Most of the spread was dodged by running around one of the pallets stacked with construction materials, but it still cracked through what was left of his shields. 

He was dead, Mirage was absolutely dead. There was no way his Wingman was going to win against a Peacekeeper, not unless he hit every shot and Wraith missed all of hers - which she didn’t, she never missed.

A kick was placed neatly between his shoulders and Mirage flailed wildly, gripped at the metal framing of an empty wall and used the momentum to swing around - 

- directly into another shotgun blast, one of which he took right into the stomach. That sent him sprawling. He landed hard on his back and the air was knocked out of him, leaving him gasping for it as he skidded a few paces forward. 

Calmly, Wraith sauntered over to stand above him, reloading the few shots she’d used in her Peacekeeper. Mirage wanted to say something to maybe lessen the blow his pride and his body just took, but the only thing he could get out was a wet cough.

She grinned at him and knelt, shotgun going to one side so she could show Mirage the blade she held before pressing it to his throat. “Don’t worry,” she whispered, leaning in close. “I would have gotten you either way. Zigged or zagged.”

Mirage would’ve rolled his eyes had it not been for the kunai at his jugular, so all he did was swallow and wait for the push. But it never came. In the very next moment, Wraith was sent flying to the ground next to Mirage, her side smoking from a fresh Mastiff shot, the sudden sound of it nearly deafening him.

She pushed up unsteadily in an attempt to get to her feet, but Crypto beat her by grabbing at the scarf at her neck. “It seems like you zigged,” he started, mocking her previous low tone with his own smug lilt. Mirage watched as he raised his hand and his drone seemingly appeared in his grip while he finished with, “When you should have just quit and gone home.”

The drone came down against Wraith’s head hard, and in the time it took Mirage to blink, she was replaced with a golden case.

Crypto turned to face him, then, showing off the small smirk he’d been wearing. “Fashionably late,” he announced with a shrug.

Mirage couldn’t help the relieved grin that spread across his own face. “As always. Love that about you, kid.”

Crypto knelt at his side, taking the place Wraith had left behind, and fished around in the pack around his waist for the syringes he kept there. Once it was plunged into his chest, all of Elliott’s muscles seemed to twitch, but he felt his heart rate lower down to something manageable. He lost a lot of blood, though. He was going to have to huddle in a corner and lick his wounds for at least another five minutes before he’d be anywhere close to mobile.

“Thank you,” Mirage said in between a few deep breaths. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“Match isn’t done yet,” Crypto chided lowly. He stood up straight and held out his hand for Mirage to take.

Which he did, but he only got halfway up before he hit the ground again. The cracking snap of a Kraber shot echoed in the empty air above the buildings and Mirage stared up at the blue sky, wondering why he wasn’t feeling any pain. Then, he heard the sound of himself hitting the floor for a third time and thought, that’s weird, I thought I already did that.

 After that, he thought, I lost a lot of blood.

Tae Joon, is the next thing that came to his mind in the form of a horrible realization, one that he ended up voicing out loud in fear, in panic. He sat up from the adrenaline that panic gave him, hysterically hoping that maybe that the other hadn’t heard him, but mostly to satisfy the need of having to see if Tae Joon was okay.

And he wasn’t, not really. He was on his back, too, propped up on one elbow, one hand clutching at his shoulder that was spilling red between his fingers. But worst of all, he was staring at Mirage like the pain was second to the shock.

Mirage didn’t like the look he was getting, and it was especially devastating that it was Tae Joon who was the one giving it to him. Underneath the cloud from the medicine coursing through his system, he knew he had to explain, had to make it so Tae Joon could understand that Mirage knowing his secret wasn’t a big deal, that’d he’d known for a long time and nothing bad had happened.

So, he began with “Tae - “ and then, for some reason, finished with, “Tae - tuh - tuh - uh - totally thought you were going to die from that.”

Finally, he thought, Nice save, and collapsed.

----=----

They didn’t win, but that was the least of their worries. Well, maybe not Lifeline’s, but that was beside the point.

Elliott left the medbay as soon as he could, which still took a good amount of time. The nurse had mentioned something about the side effects of the Revival Syringe along with blood loss and not using anymore meds to stabilize after he was injected. They spent extra time checking his vitals and Elliott didn’t have to be a doctor to tell them that those were going to be skewed.

His heart was still racing when he made his way back into the dorms. It was a little relieving to find that it was empty; after the games, everyone typically accumulated in the mess hall to celebrate the winners. But the at the same time, it was disappointing. He almost wanted to see Tae Joon standing around every corner Elliott rounded waiting to confront him, because getting this over with meant getting back to normal, and Elliott couldn’t wait for that.

So, he risked a glance over at the other’s dorm across the sitting area as if getting a look at it would help him decide on whether or not he should knock, initiate it himself. The door was pulled up, though, left open. Elliott blinked at it once before wandering closer.

The room had always seemed bare, but the emptiness was emphasized now. He noticed that the blanket that was supposed to be folded and draped across the back of the couch to show off the South Korean flag was missing. The box Tae Joon had shoved under there and filled with parts and drives was pulled out, tipped over and empty. Even more, the drone’s docking station was gone.

Elliott rushed over to the desk and tapped the first key he could reach. Only one of the monitors flashed on, glowing blue and asking to proceed with setup. 

“Oh, no,” Elliott muttered. He hurried back out to the seating area and looked up to the screens displaying that day’s match stats. Scrolling across the top was the ETA for the ship’s landing. Ten minutes. “Oh no, no, no you fucking don’t,” he continued to say, practically running to the hall for Boarding.

It Tae Joon got into the city before Elliott could catch him on the ship, it was likely that he’d never see the man again. He couldn’t let that happen.

But Boarding was empty, too, bar the few bots that managed the floor. Elliott practically skidded to a stop in front of one of them, startling the unit’s arms up and out.

“Hey, buddy, you wouldn’t have happened to see a guy, this tall - “ He holds up his hand, palm down, level with the top of his own head. “ - might have looked pissed off, which would be my fault, so I’m trying to find him. Have you seen him?”

The bot’s screen on it’s chest flashed red in the negative, then blue in an apologetic sad face.

Elliott grunted in disappointment. “Nah, don’t sweat it,” he assured the bot, even thought he was absolutely going to. 

He was biting his lip when he exited, nervous. The ship held at least sixty people on it at once. It was a decent size and if someone like Crypto was hiding on it, someone like Elliott wasn’t going to find him.

Elliott swore, once in frustration, twice in shock when he was thrown roughly against the hard, metal wall of an empty hallway. Someone held him there with a fist against his shoulder and the threat of a pistol pressing into his abdomen. He was blinded before he could gather his bearings by a sudden flash of green light, leaving him blinking rapidly to clear his vision.

“Where did you get a gun?” Elliott chose to ask, deliriously, for some reason. “They don’t let weapons on the ship - “

“Who are you?” Tae Joon questioned. The aggression in his voice was something Elliott hadn’t heard since the first few weeks, around the same time Tae Joon was just as likely to twist his arm as he was to snap at him.

“What? Babe, you know who I am - “

“Elliott Witt is too clean, everything on him was too easy to find - they wouldn’t send an Elliott Witt to hunt me down.” His expression was neutral, but there was so much going on in his eyes that Elliot couldn’t look away, even when the gun reminded him of its presence with little jabs. “So who are you?”

And maybe there were a few things Elliott should have been offended by. Like how he wasn’t prestigious enough to warrant a protected record, or Tae Joon’s implication that he wasn’t capable of something he had already done - mostly on accident.

But what he ended up asking was, “You think I made everything up? You think I lied about my entire life for, what? Getting into bed with you?”

Tae Joon didn’t seem taken aback by the hurt that was evident in Elliott’s voice, but it did leave enough room for one second of hesitation. “Then they got to you,” he whispered, somehow sounding equal parts flat and devastated.

Elliott shook his head in confusion. Who was they? “No one fucking got to me, I actually don’t know who or what you’re talking about,” he tried to explain.

“Then how?” Tae Joon asked - angry. Elliott was finally able to identify one of the things burning in Tae Joon’s glare. Anger, and maybe confusion as well. Fear. 

How did this happen, they both seemed to be thinking. How did I let it get to this?

“How did you find out?” Tae Joon snapped when Elliott spent too long watching him. “Who told you?”

“Mystik,” Elliott blurted, shocking the other enough to pull back just a little bit. “Kind of,” he went on in a hurry. “She sent you something, and I - I think the new software they implemented for security read my name enough times in it so it got forwarded to me - I don’t know exactly! I didn’t do it on purpose, it must be mald- malfuk - bugging out! So, I went to check, and I’d show you the forum post I found, but it’s gone already, I swear.”

Tae Joon took a step back, then another. “What did you find?”

Elliott let out a breath, wet his lips in a nervous tic. He shrugged. “Just - just an article.”

Disgraced computer technician - 

Wanted for murdering his sister - 

Tae Joon looked away suddenly and down the hall, like he was planning on running again. His frown was so intense a crease began to form between his brow.

“I didn’t tell anyone,” Elliott said firmly. “I promise. But - what happened?”

“I can’t tell you that,” Tae Joon told him quickly. “If you don’t know, I can’t tell you.”

“Okay,” Elliott replied, despite how much he wanted to push.

Tae Joon seemed to sense that, gave him a troubled look. “I didn’t do it.”

“I know,” Elliott told him. “I believe you.”

It it was so easy to say, but they both knew it was more than the words spoken out loud. The admission meant Tae Joon’s shoulders could drop from their high strung, protected hunch. It meant they could both breathe. It meant Elliott could push off from the wall, get close - slowly - and gently retrieve the gun Tae Joon held to find that the safety was on. Because if he didn’t have to, Tae Joon wasn’t going to hurt him. He‘d never wanted to hurt anyone.

He put his fingers on the cool metal lining Tae Joon’s jaw to get him to look at Elliott.

“I believe you,” Elliott repeated, and Tae Joon kissed him for it. He put an open hand on the back of Elliott’s head and threaded his fingers through the curls that were there, pulling him in roughly. Elliott made a surprised noise but recovered fast enough. He pushed an arm underneath Tae Joon’s open coat to wind it around man’s waist and pressed his front to the other’s, hoping that somehow he’d get Tae Joon to feel the honesty in his words through an embrace. Thinking that he could show off the part of Elliott that was dedicated purely to him by just holding him against his chest.

Anything to get Tae Joon to stop kissing him in that same, desperate way as before, like he was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Elliott said when they broke apart. He didn’t let the other go, though, and rested his forehead against his. “So you can’t either.”

Tae Joon’s features darken in a very particular way. “Don’t say that.” When Elliott lifted his head a little to show him a confused expression, he goes on to explain. “They take everything.”

Who’s they? I’ll kick they’s ass.

“They can’t take Mirage,” he said, smiling. “According to you, he’s too hard to carry.”

Instead of laughing, or giving that smarmy little smirk, or even rolling his eyes, Tae Joon raised a brow and asked, “What about Elliott?”

“Elliott’s yours,” he told him without thinking. “No one’s taking that.”

Tae Joon Park moved back in to kiss Elliott again.

=====

thanks for the prompt :^)

[sincerlyyme-blog]

Marching Band (JARED KLEINMAN X READER)

WORDS:  1.5K

TW: just fluff my dudes ALSO THIS RLLY SUCKS LOL i>

AUTHORS NOTE: im officially back to writing stuff for you all!!!!!! yay!!!!!!

           Y/N was the coolest person in the marching band. No, really, she was. Everyone knew her. And if you didn’t know her, you wanted to. Y/N played the trumpet. She was second in line, and hit all of the notes perfectly. After moving into town, a few of her peers had spread rumors about her. Most of them said that she practiced, her trumpet, every night for three hours. Others had said that she moved from a musically inclined high school. But, alas, none of the stories were true. There were so many stories made up about Y/N that it was difficult to know which ones were true. In fact, after being in band with her for the past few weeks; Evan only scraped out three facts about Y/N.

1.)   She was just naturally good at the trumpet.

2.)   She was incredibly nice.

3.)   Jared Kleinman was in love with her.

 Yes, the third and final fact was true. Evan’s best friend, The Insanely Cool Jared Kleinman, had a whopping crush on Y/N. It was blatantly obvious. Connor teased Jared about developing “heart eyes” whenever Y/N walked into the room. Jared not only blushed at this, but became extremely defensive. Jared’s friends picked up on his behaviors the moment they began.

Evan sunk his teeth into his PB&J sandwich while watching Jared swoon over Y/N across the cafeteria. Jared had barely touched his celery. A few things had changed about Jared since the sprout of his affection for Y/N. Firstly, his glasses never had a single smudge. Last year, Evan would grimace every time Jared looked at him. There was enough dust collected on his spectacles for Evan to mold entire dust-bunny. Now, the hinges were polished, shiny even! Secondly, Jared washed his hair. His prior aroma had vanished. What used to be a wafting of Dorito dust was now replaced with the sweet smell of Old Spice cologne.

“So, when are you going to ask her out?” Zoe asked, smiling, stabbing her salad with a plastic fork.

“Never,” Jared snorted, looking back at Zoe.

“You’re never going to get anywhere with her, if all you do is stare.” Zoe retorted.

Jared wanted to argue, but he knew that Zoe had a point. He reverted his eyes away from Y/N, staring at Zoe’s hand. He began to feel bad for the lettuce.

Band practice was the worst of it all. Jared sat one row behind Y/N. All that he did during the hour was stare at the back of her head. Gazing at the silk-like strands that coiled from the top of her head. Evan sat to the left of Jared, and Connor sat in the very back. Often times, Connor would have to crash his cymbals to get Jared to pay attention.

Jared kept a page at the back of his notebook, dating every time Y/N noticed his existence.

September 21st

“did you drop this?”

 September 24th

“that’s an Ab. You’re supposed to play a C#”

 October 1st

“nice shoes!”

 October 3rd

“what’s the date today?”

“October third”

 The biggest day marked in Jared’s log was October 6th. That was the day that Y/N invited Jared and all of his friends, over to her house to get ready for the big homecoming game. The homecoming game was the biggest event for the whole year. It’s the biggest crowd that the marching band plays to, all year! The evening is full of school spirit. Everyone dresses in their school’s colours and cheers on their teams. For the marching band, they get dressed in their gear and finally perform after hours of practicing. It’s kind of a big deal.

On October 6th, Y/N walked up to Jared after band practice.

“Hey!”

Almost immediately knocking his binder over, Jared greeted back, “Oh! Hi!”

“So I was thinking that maybe you, Zoe, Connor, and Evan could all come to my house tonight to get ready?” she flashed her classic smile, making Jared weak in the knees.

“Yes! I mean, uh, yeah, that’s totally fine or whatever-“

“So, I’ll see you then!” Y/N grabbed her bag, prancing off to find her friends by for lunch.

 --

 “WHAT THE HELL DO I DO?” Jared slammed Evan into his locker, holding him by the collar of his polo.

“What- I-“ Evan began to spur, his shoulders hunching and face turning white in fear.

“OH MY GOD. THIS IS WHAT I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR SINCE SHE MOVED HERE. I’M GOING TO MESS IT UP. I AM GOING TO BE SOME WEIRD-“

Jared felt a large slap delivered to the back of his head. His hands left the grip on Evan’s cotton blend collar, and jumped to the sore on his cranium.

“Get your hands of Hansen. Beating the shit out of him is my job,” a very angry Connor Murphy hissed.

“Jesus, okay,” Jared laid off, taking a step back.

Connor grabbed Evan by the shoulders, making him stand up straight, giving him a pat on the back.

“Okay, what’s up, Kleinman?” Connor scoffed.

“Y/N invited us over to her house tonight. What the hell do I do? Do I dress up? Do I bring snacks? Like what the fuck-“

“Jared, breathe. What’s the worst that could happen?” Connor offered a small hint of a smile.

“Therapy changed you.”

“Listen here, you fucker-“

“GUYS PLEASE,” Evan softly shouted over the two boys.

-

7:00 rolled around and Jared found himself oddly calm. He had convinced himself that there was nothing to be worried about. He tried to calm himself down by reminding himself that all of his friends would be there with him. I mean, his crush wasn’t that big!

He was wrong. So terribly wrong. His crush on Y/N was huge. And it came swelling back into his throat the moment she opened up the door to her house. She was dressed in shorts and school tshirt. A stripe of the school colour went down her right cheek in acrylic paint. Her hair was curled and pulled to one side. She was gorgeous. And Jared almost shat himself because of it.

“Hey, Jared! Come on in! My mom is making her famous tacos,” she smiled at him warmly.

Jared followed her inside. All of his friends were crowded around the kitchen table, eating tacos. Even Connor was smiling. They all had dinner, painted their faces with paint and got their marching band uniforms on. Piling into Y/N’s car, they set off for the football game.

The entire marching band sat to the side of the stadium, watching the game. But Jared couldn’t concentrate on the quarter back. All he could look at was Y/N. He admired every feature, freckle, and curve on her face. She felt his stare and turned to look at him.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” she began to paw at the skin on her cheek, in attempt to remove an imaginary stain.

Jared giggled, “No.”

“Then what is it?” her smile burned into his mind. His eyes trained on her lips, before squeezing shut.

“Listen, Y/N, there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you-“

 But Jared’s proclamation was cut short by the announcement, that was the introduction for the marching band. He huffed, as she looked at him with sorry eyes. The group of teenagers gathered in a line, playing in harmony.

The clouds above the night sky began to form. They looked heavy and dark. As the marching band’s song came to an end, a single rain drop fell onto Jared’s cheek.

“The thing, I was going to tell you,” Jared whispered to Y/N as the stadium applauded for the band.

“I know.”

“You- what?”

Y/N turned to look at Jared. It was raining harder now. The paint on their faces began to melt away.

“I know,” she finally whispered, placing a soft kiss on his lips.

The rain was pouring. The game got cancelled. But Jared didn’t care. The mashing of lips and acrylic paint were the only things on his mind. He dropped his clarinet to the ground, wrapping his arms around her waist.

[gayzytown]

Pools

((this is rlly long nd gay but also, som of my best writing i think !! warning // for water nd fear of water nd tht kind of stuff but no ones in danger or anythn omg !! i jst, based off tru events in which i am robbie and theres no sportacus and i end up going back home omg,,water is scary and bad and i dnt enjoy it nd neither does robbie here but anyway heres this!!))

Robbie sat silently on a lonely bench in a lonely town, his face decorated with an uncharacteristic and soft grin. He was leaning back with crossed legs and a book in his hands. For once, the small town was quiet and empty, and he planned to enjoy every second of his peace. The summer sun shone brightly in front of him, casting shadows that stretched out across the field behind him as his fingers danced lightly over the paper and flipped the page. All was still and silent in Robbie Rotten’s happy and lonely town.

        “Hi, Robbie!” a jovial, heavily accented voice called out to him. Robbie let out a long and dramatic sigh, and hesitantly looked from his book to the elf who stood before him. His eyes widened and his pale face lit up in a deep, embarrassed shade of red.

Sportacus was standing next to the bench- too close to Robbie- in nothing but swim trunks. He was dripping with water that glistened on his tan, flawless body, and slid down every perfect line and detail in the elf’s perfect and muscular chest. His hat still sat on his head, albeit lopsided and soaking wet, and his blonde hair peeked out from under it in short, smooth strands. Robbie’s eyes slowly drifted downward, moving quickly past the tight (too tight) blue swim trunks to his bare feet, and back up his immaculate and unblemished body which stood before him in a glow of radiance and moist perfection.

        “Uh… Robbie?” Sportacus asked, fidgeting in the tall man’s stare. Robbie’s eyes locked with his, stony, grey/blue eye piercing into deep blue ones.

        “What?” Robbie hissed. Sportacus’s smile returned to his face.

        “Why don't you come swimming with us, Robbie? I came here to get more towels and you looked alone so-”

        “No,” Robbie interrupted harshly. Sportacus’s smile faltered slightly.

        “It'll be fun, Robbie!” he tried.

        “I don't have fun,” the angry man rebutted. Sportacus let out a soft sigh.

        “Oh, Robbie…” he mumbled softly. “You don't have to be so stubborn.”

Robbie crossed his arms stubbornly at this and turned away from the strong, wet elf. “I won't go,” he said.

        “Please, Robbie? You don't even have to go in the pool. You can stay in the jacuzzi if you want! I'll sit in it with you,” he offered. Robbie slowly turned back, the dusty, neglected gears in his mind spinning rapidly and showering the dark recesses of his brain with sparks. Him and Sportacus in a jacuzzi? Robbie Rotten and a blonde, muscular, flawless elf in a pool of hot and steamy?

        “Yes,” he said unconsciously, and to himself more than Sportacus.

        “You'll go?” Sportacus asked, his voice laced with excitement and confusion. Robbie snapped out of his trance and looked at the elf.

        “...I guess so,” he said softly, a frown etching itself onto his face.

       “Great!” Sportacus shouted. Robbie jumped. “Get your swimsuit and I'll meet you at the pool!” he chirped. Robbie paled. Swimsuit? Before he could say anything, Sportacus backflipped away and was gone.

It was only ten minutes later. Robbie stood behind a wall by the pool, fiddling with his shorts unhappily. There was nothing he hated more than… exposing himself. Did he want everyone to see his strange, thin, pale, hairless legs? No. Not to mention his horribly squishy and untanned chest? No. That was without including the stretch marks from his high school growth spurts, or scars from… things. He shivered in the summer sun, and sighed heavily.

        “I'm going home,” he said to himself.

        “What? Who said that?” a light, girlish voice from behind the wall said. Robbie jumped.

        “What? No one. What what?? What are you doing don't talk to yourself. Go home, little girl,” he rambled. It was quiet for a moment.

        “...Robbie!” Stephanie exclaimed, running around the wall and embracing Robbie. He yelped at the sudden contact, and squirmed away from her.

        “I was just… leaving,” he mumbled, slowly crossing his hands over his chest to cover as much bare skin as he could.

        “No, Robbie,” she laughed, “You haven't even gone to the pool yet! C’mon,” she grabbed Robbie’s hand, pulled it away from his chest and led him around the wall. “Robbie’s here!” she exclaimed. All heads turned towards him.

His face lit up in a heated blush, and he unconsciously crossed his arms over his chest again and slouched.

        “Robbie!” Sportacus welcomed the taller man, skipping towards the him with arms outstretched. As much as Robbie would've enjoyed the elf’s smooth and strong skin against his bare chest, the warmth and intimacy that came with a swimsuited hug, he was in no mood for human contact and he turned away with a soft and animalistic shriek.

        “Uh… anyway, I'm glad you're here, Robbie!” Sportacus recovered. The general buzz of pool had returned to the water, and with it, Stephanie. She jumped in with a big splash that made Robbie start and, at last, turn his attention to the water. Bottomless was the first word that came to mind. An endless void of blue that reflected the sun’s rays and tossed and turned within itself, throwing shadows and lights and colors across the surrounding walls and the surrounding citizens. He turned a sickly pale and stepped back, thinking of a huge, formless predator ready to devour him; ready to crush him and throw him in merciless waves and then take him down where he would sink towards the end for the rest of eternity. He saw a sudden flash of blue and something - A hand? A talon? A paw? - grabbed him.

He snapped out of his trance with a shriek louder than before. He smacked the water’s hand/proxy away just in time to see it was only Sportacus, a sympathetic and concerned look on his face as he pulled his hand (now red from where he'd been hit) away from the tall man and it dropped to his side. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Robbie had never been to a pool or beach before. How was he supposed to know such a large body of water was so terrifying? He thought of the ocean, of lakes, ponds, and rivers, and he felt sick.

        “Robbie? You ok?” Sportacus asked again. Robbie looked at the little elf with wide eyes.

        “...huh?”

        “Are you okay?”

Robbie was quiet again. Okay? What was okay? Was he okay? Had he ever been ok? “Yeah,” he said. Sportacus didn't look convinced, but he took a small step back and gestured to the jacuzzi.

        “There's the jacuzzi, Robbie,” he said. “Let's go!” he grabbed Robbie’s hand and gently led him to the smaller, heated pool like a mother horse helping her stumbling, clumsy filly stand for the first time.

        “Is this- is this exercise?” Robbie whimpered, holding tightly to the elf’s bare skin so as not to slip on the wet tile.

        “No, you don't have to worry about being healthy. We're just sitting in water- it's like a hot bath.”

Robbie calmed down some at the elf’s reassurance and, after what seemed like an eternity for both of them, they made it to the jacuzzi. Sportacus stopped and looked at Robbie who stood by the water, trembling in the steam as if each molecule of water was personally attacking him. He gestured to the pool, and Robbie either didn't notice or ignored him.

        “Robbie,” he said softly, his smooth and velvety voice floating around the tall man’s head and smothering some of his frantic thoughts. “If you don't want to go in, that's ok-”

        “I'll go!!” Robbie interrupted him, more out of stubbornness than determination. Sportacus shifted his body and held Robbie closer to him, taking a silent moment to relish the intimate contact.  

        “Ready?” he asked softly. Robbie shook his head to clear that velvety voice from his eardrums and refocus, and then he shifted once more, holding tightly to the elf for safety now more than his need for contact.

        “...yes,” he said, at last. In an awkward, sideways hug, he held tightly to the muscular arms and chest as the two moved towards the jacuzzi and, in this same tedious, terrifying manner they made it down the first step, down the second, and eventually sat down.

Robbie sat tall as he was able, wanting the strangling hands of the water to stay as far away from his neck as he they could be. He felt the gentle waves and motions of the waist-high water pushing at him, gently pulling him to and fro in tiny, terrifying motions.

        “I don’t like this. It’s no good,” he grumbled, near tears.

        “Oh, Robbie,” Sportacus cooed, deciding it’d be much easier and safer to comfort the tall man and keep him in the water than try and get back out of the jacuzzi. As if he hadn’t had his strong arms wrapped around Robbie enough, he hugged the tall man again, gently pulling the slim man towards him. “You’re alright, Robbie, I won’t let anything happen to you. You’re safe.”

Robbie rested his head against Sportacus’s broad chest, holding tight to the elf’s outstretched arms.

        “You promise?” he asked.

        “I promise,” Sportacus answered. Robbie settled slightly and, for the moment, felt content to lay in the elf’s embrace and try his hardest to ignore the water lapping at his sides, trying to pull him under.

        “Don’t let me sink,” he said again, squirming gently.

        “I wouldn’t do that, Robbie, I care about you,” Sportacus reassured.

        “That’s gay,” Robbie rebutted, and he quickly added, “I… care about you too, I guess. Thank you for helping me.”

Sportacus smiled. “I’m always here to help. Anything to spend more time with you,” he squeezed one of Robbie’s hands playfully. Robbie blushed.

         “Gay,” he whispered.