#and yeah I can understand that “refusing a direct order” from a father figure is hard

[he-on-honeydew-hath-fed]

Think it's so funny how swami satchidananda referred to this as a "eating a candy bar in the closet" scenario, that is so apt especially considering all the sexual assault allegations (@nd the nature thereof)

[unmaskedagain]

Remember You Young

I answered this ask because I thought it was adorable. I loved the show they wanted me to do, and I want to see who could guess it before it became obvious. Its a one-shot . 

She was being followed. At first it had been daunting when she realized it, and Marinette had done everything she could to shake them off her trail. Then she realized she was being stalked by kids. Literally kids. None older than ten or eleven at best.

           They had been terrible at hiding, rarely ever whispered, argued constantly, had the most outrageous costumes but somehow managed to keep up with Marinette’s every move... most of the time. They ran around with toy guns and pretend walky talkies.

           It either said the best thing about the kids’ skills, or the worst thing about Marinette’s.

           There was a husky boy who ran around in a blue shirt and goggles. He never took off the old pilot’s hat he wore. He was also… always eating cheese. Or candy. He liked puns that caused his friends to groan constantly.

           There was an Asian little girl who wore an adorable green sweater that was too big for her and the arms of the sweater went well past her hands. She was girly and seemed to be the sweetest of the bunch. Honestly, she was the happiest girl Marinette had ever seen in her entire life. The only time the kid had gotten upset was when she had cried when couldn’t find the stuffed animal she wanted in any of the stores. Marinette had been heartbroken for her. The bluenette didn’t know what a “Rainbow Monkey” was or why it had to be French but she was going to get it for the girl if it was the last thing she did it.

           A bald British boy seemed to be the leader as everyone took direction from him. Marinette had never seen his eyes due to the black glasses he wore. The kid seemed to believe himself to be some sort of superspy. He had a fierce take-charge attitude and barked orders like a pro and preferred to a treehouse their hung out at as headquarters. He didn’t smile often.

           A pretty black girl seemed to be the one with the most sense of the much, and the most style. She wore her hair in a long braid, a blue shirt-dress and an old red cap. The girl had a natural charisma and coolness to her that made Marinette feel awkward in comparison. She seemed to second-in-command .

           The smallest of the bunch was a blond boy with an unfortunate bowl cut and a bright orange hoody. He was loud, brash, and was the “tough guy” of the bunch. He picked a fight with nearly everyone. A fierce little guy that called Marinette a “Ruddy Teenager.”

           However all the kids seemed to dislike adults and teens to some degree. They cast suspicious glances at everyone thirteen and older no matter how nice they were. None of them ever called each other by their names, always opting to follow the rules of whatever game they were playing and called each other by numbers. And always mispronounced the word: number.

           Numbuh 1. Numbuh 2. Numbuh 3. Numbuh 4. Numbuh 5. Marinette hadn’t gotten close enough to figure out who was who but she did suspect the numbers were ranking order or anything. They were probably just random.

           After over two weeks of being stalked, Marinette still hadn’t been able to figure out what they wanted from her. Only that they didn’t know she was Ladybug. It was frustrating.

           She finally got answers one day while walking home from school when she got attacked by an evil cat lady who weaponized her pets, a deranged dentist who put braces on everyone, and a man dressed like toilet. They attempted to kidnap Marinette and raise all out heck on everyone around them. They weren’t Akumas. They were just crazy people.

           The kids fought them back. They saved the day. They saved Marinette. The villains ran with their tails between their legs.

           …Suddenly everything the kids had been doing didn’t seem like a game anymore.

           …Then the kids kidnapped Marinette. The kids jumped her, hogtied her, gagged her, and carried her back to their tree house… which Marinette now realized was way more advanced than any tree house should be. EVER.

           As soon as they got to there, and Marinette was uncharitably tossed on to the couch, the kids panicked.

“We shouldn’tve done this!” Goggles boy chimed. “We weren’t supposed to make contact. Moonbase will decommission us for sure.”

“And let the adults have her, Numbah 2,” The bald boy said. “I think not! We can never let the adults win. Its against everything the Kids Next Door stand for.”

The black girl nodded, “Numbah One’s right, we can’t let Father have what’s in her brain,” She said. “It could destroy the KND!”

“But that’s not possible, Numbah five, we all know that!” The girl in green said. “She got decommissioned. Her brain got all wishy-washy. Right, Numbah Four?”

           The blond boy huffed, “Yeah! Numbah Three’s got a point. And what’s so important about some ruddy teenager anyway? Tell you what! We should drop her artic ocean and never look back.”

           Numbah five groaned, “Are you stupid, boy? They sent Numbuh 274, I mean Chad, after her. And CREE! They wouldn’t have done that if she wasn’t important. The supreme leader wouldn’tve sent us to stop them from getting her! Ya moron.”

           Marinette frowned at that. Chad, the handsome foreign exchange student that came to Marinette’s class a few weeks ago. All the girls in school thought he was so dreamy. Even Marinette, even though she had been perplexed at the sad, almost wistful looks he would shoot her when he thought he wasn’t looking. And at the stories he told about his childhood, and woud look at Marinette like he was waiting for her to jump in and finish them. Almost like he knew her. Or expected her to suddenly remember him.

           The same with Cree, a foreign exchange student in a grade above Marinette’s, but to a lesser extent than Chad. The older girl liked to make sly remarks about what being a teen meant where she came from. She cracked what seemed to be inside jokes at Marinette and looked crestfallen when it was clear the bluenette didn’t understand what she meant. Then Cree would grumble about stupid kids ruining everything.

“But WHHHHYYY?” Numbah Four whined. “We got sent a like bajillion miles away to         a city where they force kids to eat bugs and smelly cheese all to protect a teenager. A TEENAGER! And they don’t even tell us why.”

           Numbah Two frowned, “It is kind of strange. I mean we hate teenagers! They’re the worse. Why save this one?” He looked at Marinette like she was specimen in a jar.

“Because team,” Numbah One announced loudly, pausing for, what Marinette knew was, dramatic effect.  “She is Numbah Seventy-Two.”

           Gasps rang through the room. The kids reared back as if struck. Their eyes went wide and they started at Marinette in awe.

“…Or at least she used to be,” Numbah One added.

“Woah,” Numbah Four said, looking at Marinette with newfound respect.

           Numbah Two sqeauled, “This is the best day ever. You have to sign my Yipper card.” He told Marinette. “It’s an ultra-rare collectable. Only three still exists. The rest were destroyed.”

“But, but, but how?” Numbah Five asked, removing her hat. “All records of Numbah Seventy-Two was struck from the history of the KND. Only the supreme leader and her team ever knew what happened to her.”

“They pinky-swore not to tell anyone what happened!” Numbah Three added. “No one would ever break a pinky promise.”

“That’s true,” Numbah five nodded. “No kid ever would. Expecially not her team. She saved us. She saved the KND. She saved the world and made it better for kids everywhere.”

           Numbah One nodded. “Exactly. No kid would ever break the solemn oath. But do you remember just who was one her team?”

           Looks of realization appeared on the kids’ faces, and then anger.

“Numbah Two Hundred and Seventy-Four,” Numbah Five said bitterly. “He was Number Seventy-Two’s second in command for years. And He betrayed her. Why am I not surprised?”

“But why?” Numbah Two asked. “I mean if she was still Numbah Seventy-Two I’d understand. She stopped Principle Boutface from ending summer vacation forever. She stopped Father from making Halloween adults only forever and ever. Name a bad guy, and I can guarantee she kicked their butts! And most importantly she even beat…” Numbah Two paused, clearly afraid. “well you know. She’s done loads of cool things. But She can’t remember anything. So why? Why come get her now?”

“She beat who?” Numbah Four asked. “I don’t know. Who’d she else did she beat? Why were they so important?”

           Numbah One and Five looked away. Both remembered but neither wanted to say anything.

“We were still just little babies when it happened,” Numbah Three answered seriously. “Still finishing training. We never really knew what was going on. Too little for anyone to tell us. We just knew it was bad. Kids were always scared, always hurting…”

“It was a dark time,” Numbah One agreed. “Before Father took over, there was another in charge of the evil adults in the world. But he worse than Father could’ve ever dreamed of being. Kids were scared to go to sleep. They were afraid of their closets and what was under their beds. OF every shadow. No kid would be caught out after dark. They were too scared. Nowhere was safe. No one was safe. Not from him. Not from…”

“The Boogieguy,” Numbah Five finished. “The most powerful leader the adults ever had. The strongest, most evil villain you can imagine. But Numbah Seventy-Two refused to back down. She was the only who could stand up to him. The only one to ever beat him.”

           Numbah Two nodded, “Legend says the Boogieguy had a nasty plan to open a portal to unleash meanest, nastiest monsters another world to get kids to behave better. But Numbah Seventy-Two heard and went to beat him once and for all. And she did too. She trapped him in his own trap. He’s been there ever since!”

Numbah Three added, “Numbah Seventy-Two finally defeated the Boogieguy, she locked him away in a place so scary, so terrifying not even the adults would be willing to go near it. Which it means it has to be really, really, REALLY, scary. Only she knew how to get him out. She used a super-secret password that only she knew. And then, and then she, she!” Numbah Three burst into tears.

Numbah One placed a hand on her shoulder to calm her down, “To stop the Boogieguy for good, and to make sure no kid ever had to suffer his wrath again, she decommissioned herself. She was only eleven.”

“It was a hard sacrifice, but one kids everywhere will never forget,” Numbah One vowed. “And the Global KND didn’t let it be in vain. We fought back harder than ever before. Her team-”

“But, but,” Numbah Four look around, “She wasn’t even a teenager, why’d she go and do a stupid thing like that for?”

“To save us,” Numbah Five answered, and put her hat back on. She looked at Marinette with hard eyes. “To save the KND, and protect kids everywhere. Because of her, the KND finally turned the tables on adults. We weren’t scared of the dark anymore.”

“Was never the same!” Numbah Five snapped at him. “None of them were ever the same after fighting Boogieguy, after what happened to Numbah Seventy-Two. They couldn’t handle being around each other anymore. They are transferred to different teams. Their entire sector was retired. Number Three Hundred and Sixty-Two. Numbuh Sixty. My sister- Cree! Numbah Two Hundred and Seventy-Four, UGH! Look what they became. Ya don’t need to be decommissioned to not recognize them anymore.”

           It went quiet. The kids not knowing what to say. Marinette had never been so confused in her life. Had she been some sort of Spy kid? Had her memories been erased? What was going on?

           And if everything, the kids were saying was real, and Marinette decided that it was, then she was a little peeved at Chad and Cree, her old teammates apparently, for going against everything this KND had accomplished… That Marinette had apparently sacrificed herself for. And what for? To side with some evil adults?

“…The KND have figured out a way to destroy Boogieguy forever,” Numbah one said. “Unfortunately the adults have also become aware of the Boogieguy’s location and want release him. In order for either side to succeed in their mission, we need Numbah Seventy-Two.”

           All eyes turned back to Marinette.

Numbah Five cast a sad look at Numbah Seventy-Two, Marinette, “Chad and Cree will come for her.” Of that Numbah five was certain. The lone picture of ABC that sat next to Cree’s bedside nightstand was proof enough of that. It was the only thing her big sister ever kept of her KND days, apart from her memories. The only “little kid” thing she didn’t scorn. “They won’t stop until they get her. I don’t think Cree or Chad ever forgave the KND agreeing that Numbah Seventy-Two should erase her memories.”

           They never forgave themselves for letting her, Abby didn’t add.

“She was decommissioned, hello!” Numbah Two reminded them. “She can’t remember anything.”

           Number One took off his glasses and looked at the teenager who, in another life, had been everything he ever dreamed of being in the KND. She was a legend. A hero. She had, once, been the best of them all. “She will.”

[dingdongitsbees]

Hi, i was thinking of Attack on castes and i really like the idea of janitor levi, wannabe Hitch and so, would you write a one history teacher Erwin x lawyer reader, where she is friend to Frieda who is a teacher in the school asked her to pick Historia up for her and that's when Erwin sees her for the first time and immediately fell for her.... Hope you can accept it

offer up your heart

↪ WC: 3.3k ↪ Ao3 Link ↪ Genre: fluff, light-hearted, soft

Attack on Castes for those who haven’t read it! (it’s the reason some characters may seem oc)

Just send an ask to be added to the Erwin taglist!

Attack on Titan Masterlist  | Main Masterlist

You were already late and by god did you not want to be there. You were glad to leave high school behind you when you graduated, promising yourself to never set foot in one ever again. Gossip, bullies, shitty teachers, stupid drama and a mind crushing amount of work. Sure, good things too, but nothing that couldn’t be found in the adult world.

In the adult world you got adventures. You got to fight to bring people the justice they deserved, their livelihood in your hands. They offered up their hearts begging you to save them. It gave you purpose. Whether or not they shed tears of grief or joy would be for you to decide. Nothing quite came close.

Or that’s how you would have felt if your current client wasn’t being such an annoying little shit. He had lied to your face with three wildly conflicting stories about what happened, and then when he got cross-examined by the prosecutor, he decided to go completely off script and implicate himself even further for something he didn’t even do.

The evidence against him were fables and rumours at best but he had begun to make it look plausible through his shifty character. You would get the “not guilty” verdict at the end of the trial, but you were going to have ripped out most of your hair by then.

When you were busy screaming in your hands during the intermission, your friend Frieda rang you and asked you to pick up her younger sister from school because their bastard of a father surely wasn’t going to. You nearly yelled at her then.

Frieda had done favour after favour for you in the past years with your insanely busy and gruelling schedule, so refusing the one time she asked for something in return would put you up with the likes of your client. You agreed, for some reason not asking what time, and then promptly forgot about it.

So there you were, heels clicking rapidly against the school’s hallway, the oranges hues of the sunset streaming through windows and the entrance. You really should have asked for Historia’s number, though you weren’t sure if the girl would bother to reply.

Historia was the epitome of “I think I will cause problems on purpose” simply because she’s bored. To be fair, you couldn’t really blame her, you had no such positive attitude towards school either, but with her being at the top of the pecking order she had the ability to make those problems quite substantial. Freida’s hair was probably going to go grey soon.

You thanked any god that would listen that she had cheerleading practice or you might have genuinely cried. The amount of stress that blonde girl was putting you through simply because she refused to take the bus home was nearly unparalleled.

You looked around the school, each corridor breaking off into another. The same basic lockers and same ceiling lights, same everything. You were fucking lost.

You jogged down some corridors hoping to find someone, turning your head frantically, letting you slam full force into something hard, tall and…blond?

 .

Erwin may love being a teacher but my lord did it get tedious sometimes. He loved the younger ones, brimming with hopes, dreams and potential. Though nearly all of them seemed to be misusing it, putting it on the backburner or simply didn’t care. Kids were good but they certainly could be better. Of course, there’d be the standout kids like Armin and Marco who took their schooling seriously and asked questions that allowed him to gush about things that weren’t just on the set curriculum. But what he would give so all of them were that engaged…

He just wanted them to offer their hearts to him, to trust him and put faith in the information he was giving forward. History is something, that he believed at least, was unparalleled in its importance. You learn from the mistakes done by the generations before you, using the knowledge to guide the current decisions needed to be made. On top of that it just let you understand the world around you; how it came to be and your place within it. History was unparalleled in its importance.

That’s why he was still at the school, marking very obviously last-minute written essays, so he could give them back with thorough annotations and advice that he was sure most of them wouldn’t even glance at.

He had popped off to the teacher’s lounge to get a cup of tea, and was making his way back, eyes glued to the swaying liquid as not to spill it, when a smaller figure came barrelling into him. He instinctually moved the tea away, not wanting the scalding water to hit this unfortunate stranger full in the face. Some of the brown liquid dripped to the floor, Levi would surely have his head for it later, but it was better than any burns.

When he was sure the tea was steady, he looked to the stranger on the ground.

He swore he saw a deity.

Erwin peered down at you in pure awe. Albeit being a bit dishevelled and frazzled, you were clearly a force to be reckoned with. Your pant suit was tailored to fit you perfectly, your heels matching your simple jewellery and watch, your hair which was now a little ruffled, was obviously put together with precision in the morning. You were immaculately put together.

And your face, your face. Everything was right where it needed to be in the exact size and proportion to everything else. It was like you had been perfectly carved for over a millennium by only the best sculptors available.

Your aura was something else. Even if he had found you in pyjamas, the power you would exude would be to the same effect. Something in the way your face shifted as thoughts flew across your mind, the way every bit of movement seemed controlled and purposeful. Erwin had read hundreds, maybe thousands of myths all around the world, and none of the gods in them had never been as ethereal as you.

You were the definition of a muse.

You on the other hand were trying to keep down your groans about your ankles as much as possible. Heels were a mistake enough to attempt to run in let alone fall in, god could this day get any…better? Oh no. He was hot.

You swallowed harshly as he looked down at you, tilting his head and eyes wide. You noticed the tea spilt in a little puddle behind him and felt a little guilty, but he seemed to pay it no mind, his piercing blue eyes only on you.

After a silent moment he offered his empty hand. You took it with a hasty thank you under your breath and gripped on. His hand was so warm, so steady, so comfortable to hold. The moment was over quicker than either of you wanted it to be.

You looked to the ground, smoothing down the ruffles in your clothes, some that existed and some that certainly didn’t, so you could reset yourself. You were not going to be flustered by the first man you saw outside of work though to be fair he would be a good reason to let that rule lay down. He was certainly a fine specimen.

You looked back up, coughing to clear your throat. His gaze was already glued to you, it hadn’t been torn off since the moment you bumped into him. His eyes didn’t even shift now you were staring into his. His mouth was slightly agape, his cheeks dusted pink, his eyebrows raised. You were getting nervous but wanted to know what was going on in that head of his.

“Uh, hi…” you started, leaning your head to the side, “Didn’t mean to bump into you there, sorry for spilling your tea.”

He blinked.

“You’re…” he trailed off, having caught himself before he said something stupid. He coughed into his fist, finally looking away, the student poster about splitting atoms on the classroom becoming suddenly riveting. “Sorry, could I help you in anyway?”

You scratched the back of your head with a small smile and Erwin short circuited. “Yeah actually, I’m meant to be picking up a friend’s sister, but I got lost.”

“What’s the student’s name? I may be able to direct you?”

“Historia Reiss.”

“Ah.”

“Ah indeed.”

It was no question that the girl would be infamous to teachers as well, the girl tended to make quite an impression. Hopefully she wouldn’t be rolling her eyes at you more than necessary when you finally found her.

“Miss Reiss is likely at the gym.” He pointed down a corridor, the one you had come from.

You opened your mouth and closed it again, you would probably get lost again but you couldn’t convince yourself that’s why you asked the next question. “Sorry, do you think you walk me there?”

A colourful array of curses flew through your mind as he stilled, a deer in the headlights. You were about to apologise for being a bother and go on your way when his face brightened to an almost blinding degree and his eyes crinkled with his accompanying smile.

“It would be my pleasure.”

The walk started in silence for a few moments as you both scrambled for something to talk about.

“So um,” you said, “What do you teach here? You are a teacher, right? Not just some random guy taking advantage of the tea?”

He was already panicking being in the vicinity of you, so he almost didn’t pick up your teasing tone. The fact you were making fun of him just made his heart hammer even harder.

“I can confirm I’m not some stranger, to this school at least.” His added smile made your heart skip a beat; you should sue him. “I teach history here, but I won’t burden you with the specifics.”

“Do.”

“Pardon?”

“Burden me with the specifics. The teaching path wasn’t for me, but I admire those who followed it,” you sent a smile of your own back, “Plus, you seem like the kind of guy to know your stuff. You look like a passionate teacher. I wish there were more of those when I went to school.”

He took a second to compose himself, you being very cruel to him right now. He’d known you for approximately two minutes, but you were making it increasingly difficult for him to not declare his inevitable love right then and there.

“Oh well um,” he stumbled over his words, trying to string a few sentences together that would be worthy of your time. His hands were already extended, ready to add a visual focus. “War is quite an obvious favourite to go to, but I’ve always been more interested in the things that went on behind the scenes, the life of soldiers and nurses who lost their lives, the lives of those who stayed behind, anyone trying to look for peaceful solutions. Those have always interested me more. And then going far past the world and civil wars of the past three centuries, going back to when England and France were nowhere near the superpowers they became, and of course focusing all around the world. Europe has honestly been pretty lacklustre with their stories compared to everywhere else.”

He looked back to you, half-expecting you to be twiddling your thumbs, but your sight hadn’t moved. Your eyes were wide and bright like the ones he had seen in Armin and Marco except with an added adult understanding and perspective. This was quite unfair on his heart.

He turned his head down a corridor, taking the opportunity to calm down his heated cheeks. Really quite unfair.

“So what do you do?” He tried his best to make the words come out as smooth as he hoped. You didn’t seem to take notice that they didn’t.

“I’m a lawyer, so definitely a different world from yours.” Your laugh was awe-inspiring, he wished it were his morning alarm. There was no way he could come to hate it.

“It suits you,” he noted. It made perfect sense, everything about you commanded attention, thinking about you controlling a court room was easy to picture.

You sputtered out a few sounds, not sure if they were sophisticated enough to be called words and looked down a corridor as you passed, trying to figure out what the angry looking janitor was thinking about instead of what your brain was. This man was having quite the effect on you, and it wasn’t even his looks! Rude!

“Thank you, assuming that’s a compliment.”

Erwin simply nodded, not wanting to let you be privy to his thought processes right then. He would never recover.

“What area do you work in if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Currently represent for murder and manslaughter cases, anything that usually ended up with a person dead or nearly dead.”

A different world from yours indeed.

“I imagine that’s quite intense.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “The paperwork numbs a lot of it, honestly most of my clients aren’t any different from students.”

“I’d hope not.”

“You’d be surprised. Some of those annoying kids in school tend to keep being annoying, annoying enough to land themselves as a suspect for a murder case.”

Now he couldn’t stop thinking about you intimidating a client into submission and to just listen to you and let you take the reins. He would like to see that. He may possibly want to be subjected to it if he was in the right mood. He towered over you, but he would fall to his knees in a second if you told him to as a joke. He hoped that was a wild exaggeration done by his brain, but he knew most things come from a semblance of truth.

You really were something else.

You couldn’t believe you were talking to someone like him. He seemed so self-assured and at one with the flow of life, not needing to seek more to find contentment. He clearly loved his job as much as you loved yours, both acknowledging the downsides but knew it was worth it in the end.

He seemed to be taking up more and more of your brain as he continued to talk, only adding to the list of positives, there hadn’t seemed to be any negatives yet. You were concerned that there didn’t seem to be any. From his looks to his personality to the way he held himself, it was honesty too good to be true. Right?

When he looked at you, your cheeks would burn, and you’d feel like you were in high school all over again. That was one of the things you had forgotten, although small, they had been of the good parts about school. Crushes had always been a little fun.

But the way his lips pulled into an easy smile should be illegal. You could deal with murderers, not this. If he was ever on the stand in court, you would be a stuttering mess when trying to cross-examine him.

As you two kept talking, you’d take turns left and right, seemingly with no real reason. You were pretty sure you had seen those maths posters before, but you didn’t mention it. You were plenty happy to let this be dragged out a little longer. You were flattered to say the least.

Erwin knew that he couldn’t “trick” you without you noticing eventually, he couldn’t do that to save his life, but he also knew that if you had caught on to his little game, you would mention it if you wanted him to stop. That fact made his chest flutter, though perhaps it probably was time to take you where you needed to go so you didn’t have your friend yelling at you. He wasn’t that cruel.

The sound of cheers reached your eyes, your shoulders deflated. Guess this is it then. The gym doors came into sight and you could spot the cheerleaders practicing their formations through the open door. They all looked exhausted, so it was probably near the end by now.

Against the wall you could see Historia’s “friends” watching and applauding whenever Historia so as much breathed. No wonder she got bored.

Your feet came to a stop, just outside the entrance and you looked up to him. He shifted slightly, unsure of what to say.

“Thank you um…” you said before your eyes few open, “Holy- I can’t believe I didn’t get your name?”

He chuckled, deep and clear. “Erwin, Erwin Smith.”

You gave your name to his and his lips mouthed around it silently, feeling the shape of all the letters. It made you a little flustered how earnestly he was printing it into his brain.

Neither of you moved, you didn’t want to go into the gym, and he didn’t want to leave. To put it simply, you were smitten with each other and it was embarrassingly obvious to everyone including the both of you.

The cheerleaders stopped, grabbing their bags and chugging down litre water bottles. Historia would snitch on you in an instant if she saw you hitting on her teacher, so it was time to depart.

“I guess this is it then…” You dragged out the sentence, still trying to stall.

“I suppose it is.”

“Thank you, I do mean it. I guess I’ll see you when I see you.”

He nodded, swallowing. “I guess I will. Have a pleasant evening, both you and Miss Reiss.”

You cracked a grin. “I can’t promise she will have one, but I know you definitely made my evening a good one. See you, Erwin.”

He smiled softly. “See you.”

He waved as he walked back through the corridors, he snuck a look over his shoulder when he had almost disappeared from view to find you still looking at him. Both of your faces burst into flames and you looked away from each other.

You took Historia home after she (mainly her friends) questioned why you were there instead of Frieda. Reiner, you believed his name was, offering to take her home as suavely as he could to be shot down so quickly by Historia you got whiplash. Her friends bid her dramatic goodbyes which she didn’t reply to, and you two made your way to the car.

“Were you talking to Mr Smith?” She didn’t even bother taking her eyes off of her phone to ask.

“I…I was. I got lots trying to find you so he helped me get to the gym.”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “He didn’t need to take you all the way there though.”

“He was…he was just being nice.”

She hummed, no emotion behind to hide whether or not it was full of doubt. You really didn’t want her to tell Frieda or you’d never live it down.

“I finally get your ass out of the court room and you flirt with the first guy you see? Bold as ever.”

Though maybe, just maybe, it meant you could offer to pick up Historia more often. Maybe.

Everyone knew it wasn’t a maybe.

Erwin made his way back to his desk and he plopped himself down on his chair with a sigh. He leant his head back to look at the ceiling, projecting the past minutes on the white ceiling.

He didn’t even ask for your number.

He cursed at himself and dragged a hand over his face before getting back to his mountain of paperwork. Perhaps it was too bold to offer up his heart this quickly.

But you had said “see you”, and maybe it was too much for him to assume, but usually that meant a second meeting was anticipated. Maybe.

Everyone knew it wasn’t a maybe.

His tea had gone cold, but that was alright. He had met a goddess that evening after all.  

.

.

.

a/n: to the person who sent this in sorry it took so long! this was my first time writing for Erwin so i hope it’s alright! thank you for reading :)

Just send an ask to be added to the Erwin taglist!

Attack on Titan Masterlist  | Main Masterlist

Ko-fi

[arminhug]

hello, pumpkin || annie leonhardt x reader: chapter two

series masterlist

。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫

BIRTHDAY GIRL

Annie and I never established that we were friends until her eighth birthday.

In the blossoming spring warmth, I nestled myself in the corner of the bench in the playground’s garden. It was an unspoken fact that nobody really played in the garden; it was a quiet haven for a few of us to read or enjoy solitude, yet it had also become a spot where I waited for Annie every day, and almost every day, had she not been sent home or busy with other obligations, Annie joined me, sometimes speaking, sometimes not. I didn’t mind; I just loved to be in her company.

On this particular day, Annie stood before me, and despite her being the same height as me, her air always made her seem much bigger and powerful.

“My dad says this is for you.”

She handed me a white envelope into which I fervently tore, revealing a gaudy invitation card.

“It’s your birthday on Saturday?” I quizzed.

“No, my birthday is today. But my dad said it was too short notice to invite you to my house today, so you can come on Saturday.”

At this news of Annie’s birthday, I immediately leapt to my feet and braced her in a hug. “Happy birthday! What cake are you having? Are you going to hand out sweets to your class?”

Annie did not hug me back but did not resist. “I don’t like cake, and I don’t like anyone in my class.”

I gasped. “How can you not like cake? Also, who’s going to be at your party if you don’t like anyone in your class?”

“Cake is too heavy and sweet.” She responded monotonously. “Also, you’re the only one coming; it’s not a party, my dad just knows I have a friend now and wanted you to come. You don’t have to.”

Unlike Annie, I didn’t actively avoid the other children in my school. I was still invited to many class birthday parties, I spoke amiably to my peers and I could name a few schoolchildren whom I could consider a friend— yet Annie, the stoic, ash-blonde girl confessing she saw me as a friend elicit such joy within me, I can still remember the feeling to this day if I think about her enough.

“So if I’m your friend, I have to get you a present, right?” I had reminded her of the title that she gave me moments ago.

“No. I don’t want a present.”

“Yes you do, everyone wants presents!” I retorted. “What do you like best in the world?”

“Cats.”

I sat down, sulking. “I can’t get you a cat, Annie. What else do you like?”

Silence.

“Mummy and I can make you something.” I continued, desperate to find something that I could give to my friend. “She’s really good at baking. Do you like cookies?”

“No.”

“Cupcakes?” I refused to give up.

“No! Cupcakes are tiny cakes, you know I hate cakes.”

“Brownies?”

“No.”

“Doughnuts?”

This time, Annie turned away, not meeting the question with a monosyllabic “no”.

“Doughnuts! Annie, I’ll make you lots of doughnuts, okay?”

Annie still refused to look me in the eye. It never bothered me, but I had gathered that she was more inclined to refuse eye contact when she was upset or shy. Before I had the chance to attempt to pry into which flavour of doughnut she would have liked, the bell signalling the end of recess rang. I leapt to my feet and pressed a chaste kiss to Annie's cheek.

“See you later, you doughnut!”

She shoved me towards my line with no malice in the action. “Whatever you say, pumpkin girl.”

“Earth to (y/n)? You’ve been glazed over for the past five minutes. What’s so exciting about the window?”

I blink, snapping out of the saccharine memory of Annie’s birthday. Four pairs of eyes are fixed on me, and I animate myself, taking the doughnut from my plate and shrugging. “I was just thinking,” I respond.

“You sure? Not looking at any hot dudes?” the only other female at the table, Sasha, suggests. Her hazel eyes flicker suggestively over to the group of men kicking a ball about in the park over the road from our favourite local café, which has baked goods to die for (or so Sasha and Connie, the food fanatics of my friendship group claim. I won’t argue—the doughnuts are heavenly.)

“Yeah, c’mon, (y/n)! There are three dashing fellows right here, why do you need to stare at those losers?” Connie chimes in, gesturing to himself and my other two male friends, Jean and Marco.

“Yeah, you wish. My type isn’t idiots,” I playfully smack Connie’s head, the growing stubble brushing my fingertips as I find any way to bring the subjects away from men that I would apparently find attractive.

“On all seriousness, what is your type? We’ve never seen you have anyone about.” Jean interrogates. Great.

It took me a while to figure out that I’m likely not into men. I never quite knew why I got so uncomfortable when middle school brought an array of boy bands that prepubescent teenage girls loved to swoon over, and why I could never answer when somebody asked me who was the hottest, but at the age of sixteen, when I realised my heart was racing upon seeing two women kiss in a film my friends and I had watched, it hit me like a freight train that I was definitely attracted to women.

I chose not to indulge anyone in this knowledge; realistically, I know I don’t have too much to worry about. Sure, my parents aren’t screaming about supporting gay rights from the rooftops, but I know that they have no prejudice towards the community, and my four closest friends would accept me no matter what — hell, Marco told us he was gay when we were fifteen and sixteen years old over a game of Mario Kart and we embraced his queerness with open arms.

So what’s the big deal? I think to myself.

“Does it matter? I’m too busy to date. These university decisions are killing me!”

“Simple,” Jean interrupts, pointing the straw of his ridiculously large iced coffee in my direction. “You come to Marley with Marco and me. Good university, far enough away from your parents, and you get your favourite friends with you for the ride!”

Jean and Marco are one class above Sasha, Connie and I, and decided that Marley University, a small, public school that gained a decent reputation despite it being so new, was the place for them. It was hard to say goodbye once they left school, but the holiday breaks came frequently, and soon enough, they were back for Easter, helping their three younger friends decide on which school to go to.

“Tempting, but probably not. I can’t get over the English department in Sina,” I responded dreamily.

“Yeah, and the crazy entry requirements. You’d have to be a robot to get those grades! Just come to Marley with us, I’m sure the English stuff is fine there, too!” Sasha whined, poking at my hand. I take another bite of my nostalgic treat, shaking my head.

“Guys, I love you all, but I can’t make such an important decision based on my friends. You understand, right?”

“It’s fine, (y/n),” Marco interrupts, his familiar comforting smile gracing his freckled face. “We’ll come to visit you up there, right?”

“Nope. Four of us, one of you. She is coming to Marley.” Jean retorts.

“Jesus, fair enough. I’ll book the plane tickets now!” I tell him sardonically. He elbows me jovially in response and stands, coffee in hand. “Right, we can finish our drinks and snacks on the way outside. It's too nice to be spending it indoors.”

Ignoring the protests from Sasha and Connie, who forlornly protest that they haven't had the chance to order a baked good after their main courses, the majority of the group tail towards the double doors, leaving the duo no choice but to begrudgingly follow suit. The late March sunshine is glorious, beaming down on my face, much like the day twelve years ago I was daydreaming about. It suddenly hit me that today, March 22nd, Annie would be turning twenty years old. This newfound knowledge makes my stomach drop and I cannot control the grief coursing through my being.

It's ever so odd how I can remember every detail about my childhood friend; every memory we shared together, her favourite colour, (black, which I insisted was rather morbid for an eight-year-old, so I coaxed her into putting blue as a second favourite) how on Sunday mornings her father would always pick her up from my house after a sleepover at 10 am sharp to take her to karate, even though she had told me in confidence that she much preferred kickboxing. I couldn't tell you many facts about any other childhood friend who I lost to time; it's only Annie. Every detail of the girl who made my infancy etched into my heart, refusing to leave.

As I force myself back into the present moment, I am aware that maybe Annie was more than just my best friend.

But I was so young. How could I have truly differentiated between innocuous childhood affection and romantic yearning?

“Marco?” I punctuate the spring silence before I can even stop myself. “How did you realise your first crush?”

Marco raises his eyebrows. “Jeez, it was so long ago. I was eleven and I was having a sleepover with my friend. We were on his bed playing Minecraft on his laptop, but I wasn’t even paying attention; I was just admiring his face, how he was so engrossed in the game. My heart was racing because I realised I wanted to kiss him, but I didn’t even think it was biologically possible to like the same sex, so I brushed it off. Now I look back…” he laughs awkwardly, before looking me in the eye, his tone suddenly earnest. “Why, what’s up? Anything you want to talk to me about?”

I stop in the street, completely oblivious to the speed of modern day life around me. Suddenly all I care about is how my stomach leapt when I saw her pallid figure walk through the double doors, into the garden, how I found any excuse to hold her hand, how obsessed I was with the topography of her curved nose, icy eyes, lips stark against her pale skin.

“How do you know for sure you’re gay if you’ve only ever had a crush on one person in your life? Somebody who you haven’t spoken to in eight years?”

。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫

[xjoonchildx]

guarded | jhs x reader | chapter two: i’m screwed

summary: you’ve tried to separate yourself from your infamous crime family, but a new case has your carefully-constructed world crashing down around you.  now you have to figure out how to heal old wounds and handle the new man who enters your orbit.

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: mafia AU, E2L, slow burn, tsundere, eventual smut

rating: 18+

word count: 3.1K

A/N: you guys are? the? best? i’m so thrilled that you guys like the story and i hope you like this chapter, too.  i’d like to thank my emotional support llamas @ladyartemesia and @taetaewonderland for being the amazing people they are and beta reading for me, too. they really are the best.

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | EPILOGUE

************************

“What’s with the muscle?”

Donghyuk looks over his menu, eyes narrowed on the man just behind you.  You sip your wine as you decide on how you want to answer that.

Jung Hoseok is seated at a table for one, barely three feet away.  If you thought spending the last four days with him under one roof had been the most awkward stretch of your entire life, then you were dead wrong.

Tonight is infinitely more awkward.  

“Personal security,” you say casually, picking up your menu to peruse the entrees for effect.

Donghyuk’s answering huff of agitation is loud -- probably loud enough for Hoseok to hear and your skin prickles with embarrassment.

“You need security to have dinner with me now?”

“Don’t be silly,” you say under your breath, hoping Donghyuk will take the hint and lower his voice.  “I’m getting some heat on the Kwon and Lim case, so it’s just a precaution. Nothing to worry about.”

“Right,” he deadpans, one skeptical eyebrow raised.  “I see you every day at work. How is this the first I’m hearing about this?”

“Must have slipped my mind,” you say with nonchalance, looking back to your menu.  

You should be deciding on something to eat but your mind is wandering.  You wonder if Hoseok has ever been to this restaurant before. You wonder if he purposely picked a table where he could see you but you couldn’t see him. You wonder what he plans to order.

You wonder --

“Well, you’re sending him home for the night, right?”

Your wine glass thumps against the linen tablecloth when you set it down with more force that you’d intended. A flush creeps up your neck.

How much of this conversation can Hoseok hear from his vantage point?  The thought makes the tips of your ears warm as you fix your dinner date and occasional hookup partner with a warning glare.   Smart as Donghyuk is -- with the law degree to prove it -- he can be downright thick sometimes.  

‘No,” you say quietly.

He narrows his eyes.

“No, you don’t want to? Or no, you can’t?”

You blow out one long, irritated breath.

“‘Hyuk, I’m about two seconds from walking out of here,” you hiss. “Can we just drop this?”

He stops just short of frowning, eyes sliding back over your shoulder to Hoseok.

“And for the love of God, quit staring at him.”

Donghyuk slams his menu shut.

**********************

Jung Hoseok is like a ghost in your home.

He moves with a practiced stealth that makes it hard for you to keep track of what room he’s in at any given time.  He’s awake when you wake and still awake when you head to your room at night.

You have no idea when the man sleeps or when he eats.

Conversations -- if you can call them that -- are stilted and awkward. Short discussions limited to working out the logistics of your day.  You tell him where you need to be and when and he makes it happen.  

Apart from that, there is silence -- thick and suffocating and constant.

In fact, Hoseok is so silent inside your home that when you’ve retreated to your opposite corners of the apartment you could almost pretend that things are normal.  You could almost pretend that you don’t have a complete stranger living in your home.

But then you catch a scent.

It’s the smell of coffee that greets you when you wake every morning to a freshly-brewed pot.

It’s the clean, masculine smell that wafts under his bedroom door, carried on humid air after he’s showered.

And sometimes it’s the scent of gun oil that creeps into your room at night when he’s cleaning his pistol, bringing back memories you’d thought were long lost.  Memories you’d hoped were long lost.

That’s the scent that always brings you back to your senses -- the one that reminds you that the man under your roof isn’t just any houseguest.  

He might not look like the battered thugs who worked for your father all those years, but underneath the designer suits and composed exterior is a man cut from the very same cloth.  

And you’d better not forget it.

***********************

The sunlight beating down on the window to your office this morning is deceptive.  

Behind the protection of the thick glass, it’s powerful enough to make you feel uncomfortably warm in your lightweight sweater -- but outside it’s bitter cold.

Hoseok is parked just across the street from your building, like he has been every day this week.  You can’t help but notice there isn’t any steam coming out of the exhaust of the sleek black sedan and you wonder if he’s warm enough in there.

“You busy?”

Hyejin interrupts your thoughts with a knock at your office door.  

“Not at all,” you sigh, turning to smile at her before taking a seat at your desk.  “I should be busy, I just seem to keep finding ways to put things off.”

“Tell me about it,” she laughs. “Listen, I was looking for the photos we got from the Daerim warehouse. I can’t find them in the file and thought maybe you pulled them for something.”

“No, I haven’t pulled them,” you say, lips pursing into a frown as your hands skate over the papers on your desk.  You flip the corners of the folders up, checking to see if the photos are hidden underneath.  “They’ve got to be here somewhere.  Maybe Hajoon took them?”

Hyejin nods. “Yeah, maybe.  I’ll check with him.  You alright this morning?”

Tense laughter bubbles up your chest.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just have a lot going on, is all. Let me know when you find those photos, okay?”

“Will do,” Hyejin promises before leaving you alone to your work and your thoughts.

Hyejin is probably the closest thing you have to a friend — but there’s no way you’d tell even her that your brother thinks someone is trying to kill you and you’re living with an armed guard.

That’s not a conversation you can have with anyone.

You grab a drink, straighten up your papers and get to work.

The raid at the Daerim warehouse turned up enough guns to arm the entire city.  Police spent hours unpacking weapons from giant crates, hidden inside huge sacks of coffee beans and offloaded from a ship that docked from Colombia.  The coffee was pretty decent, actually.

As for the guns -- you knew the Ssijog leadership was furious about the confiscation. In all, investigators estimated they took about 7 billion won worth of firearms out of that warehouse that day.  That’s the kind of financial hit that could level any criminal organization, including your brother’s.

What you can’t seem to understand is why the Ssijog seem more worried about the men taken away at that raid than the guns.

You take a close look at the side-by-side booking photos of Kwon Jiho and Lim Joowon.

These are the kind of men who look like the muscle your father kept around. Heavily-tattooed, thick-necked and ears cauliflowered from one too many fights.  Their criminal records read like street gangster templates, page after page of petty crimes starting in their youth graduating to more violent crimes in recent years.

Men like these are a dime a dozen in this line of work.  So what makes these two so special that the Ssijog are this desperate to get them back?

You pull a post-it note out of your drawer and grab a sharpie. In big block letters you write the question you have to answer before this situation really spirals out of control.

WHAT DO THEY KNOW?

****************************

Car rides are the only time you let yourself get a good look at Jung Hoseok.

When he’s driving, his eyes never leave the road, never stray in your direction -- and you refuse to make him feel like some kind of glorified chauffeur by riding in the backseat.  So you use the silent drives as an opportunity to steal glances at him from the passenger seat like a shy kid.

Hoseok has strangely elegant hands for a man with a career in crime, you think. Long fingers free of scratches and calluses; prominent veins that move when his hand works over the gear shift.  And then there is his face -- his chiseled jawline and sharp nose and bow-shaped mouth.

He’s handsome, of course, and you -- a woman with a pulse and perfectly-functioning eyesight -- would be lying if you tried to deny it.

Tonight you are so distracted with looking at Hoseok’s face that you miss the fact that he’s skipped the turn he normally takes to get back to your apartment.  It isn’t until you are well into the heart of downtown that you snap out of your stupor and take a look outside.

“Where are we going?”

“Your brother wants to see you.”

Your scowl is wasted on the man because he doesn’t bother to look your way.

“So is this how things work now? You and my brother decide where I go and when and I’m the last to know?”

Hoseok is unmoved by your obvious irritation.

“Just following orders,” he counters evenly. “You’ll need to take up any concerns you have about your schedule with Namjoon.”

“I’ll do that,” you murmur, turning to glare out the window.  

A short while later you’re walking into your brother’s office, Hoseok trailing closely behind.  Namjoon signals for him to leave the two of you alone to speak privately.  You round on him as soon as the door latches behind Hoseok.

“If you want me here,” you say tightly, “Then tell me. Directly. I don’t like finding out I have plans second-hand from my babysitter.”

The corners of Namjoon’s mouth lift into a wry smile.  “Good to see you too?”

You roll your eyes but you can’t help but smile back. Your brother seems at ease tonight, lighter somehow.  It’s a good look on him.

“I want to know how things are going,” he says, leaning back into his chair. “How are you finding Jung Hoseok?”

Let’s see. Frigid? Intense? Unapproachable?

“He’s...quiet,” you say after a long moment.  “And maybe unnecessary at this point. I haven’t had any more trouble since that letter.”

“I assure you, he’s still very necessary,” Namjoon returns quickly.  “We’ve still got a lot to work out as far as this situation goes. My guys on the street say the Ssijog are in planning mode. I don’t want any of them catching us unaware with some kind of nasty surprise.”

You sigh.  “So no end in sight.”

“Not right now. Just bear with this a bit longer, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree quietly, reaching into your pocket to retrieve your buzzing phone.

Your mouth pulls into a tight line when you read the waiting message.

hyejin: can’t find the pictures. hajoon doesn’t have [ 6:15 PM ]

you: ? i have backup on my laptop [ 6:17 PM ]

hyejin: okay need to make sure we have those tonight? [ 6:18 PM ]

you: yeah, i’ll call you from my place when i get them [ 6:18 PM ]

“Everything alright?” Namjoon asks when you rub your fingers against your temples.

“Yeah, just work stuff,” you sigh, a low-level anxiety simmering in your stomach. “I actually have to go, unless there’s something else you needed?”

“No, just—“ your brother looks like there’s something he wants to say, but decides against it.  “— just be careful, okay?”

You nod and send him a small smile.

“I’ll try.”

You’re almost to the door when you hear him call out to you again.

“And Amsaja -- with Hoseok.  Try being nice.”

He nearly laughs at the disgusted look you shoot back.

*****************************

HOSEOK

Hoseok’s got a pretty good idea of what a prosecutor makes in this town, and it’s damned sure not enough to pay for your lifestyle.

Your spacious apartment in one of the best buildings in town, your expensive furnishings, your fancy car and your designer clothes.  Hoseok has done the math in his head and that shit does not add up.

You’re a hypocrite, he decides -- too good to associate yourself with the trash that brings money in for the Gajog, but apparently not too good to spend it.  Living comfortably on the backs of men you wouldn’t acknowledge in the streets.

Men like him.

Hoseok wishes that didn’t get under his skin the way it does.  

He wishes he didn’t feel resentment simmering under the surface every time he sees you, every time he even thinks of you.  You keep to yourself and you don’t make demands and you haven’t really given him a reason to dislike you, but he desperately wants to.  

He needs to.

He wishes he truly didn’t give a shit about the idiot you had dinner with the other day.  The one straight off the assembly line of some prep school in the Seocho District.  The one with the loud mouth and the loafers and the country-club grin.  He wonders what you see in that guy, when all he can see is how punchable his face looks.

That’s why Hoseok doesn’t give too much weight to the furtive looks he can see you stealing in his peripheral vision.  He doesn’t put too much stock in the way your cheeks color when he looks at you sometimes.  He has to remind himself that underneath the polite distance and pretty packaging, you’re just desperate to be done with this entire situation.  You’re desperate to distance yourself from him and people like him.  

When he finds himself staring at you when you’re not looking, Hoseok forces himself to remember that men like him don’t warm your bed, they pay your bills.

And he’d better not forget it.

**************************

Hoseok can read the agitation in your body language loud and clear the second you slide back into the car.

He can see the way you keep scrolling through your phone, firing off texts and emails from the passenger seat. Tonight, you stare out of the window instead of pretending not to stare at him and he wonders what happened behind closed doors with your brother.

He almost lets it go because it’s none of his business. But he’s curious.

“Are you...upset about something?”

You seem to startle when he asks the simple question.

“Uh, yeah. Sort of,” you admit quietly, eyes falling back to your phone. “Work stuff.  I have to find something when we get home.”

Hoseok nods, eyes glued to the road.  “We’ll be there soon.”

“Thanks,” you say, turning to look out the window again.

Minutes later, you’re both walking into the apartment.  Hoseok turns to secure the deadbolt lock and when he turns back, you’re gone.  He hears the room to your bedroom click closed.  

He briefly entertains the idea of asking you if you need help, but resists.

Instead he sweeps the open rooms of the apartment like he does every night before heading into his room and closing the door.

************************

The knock that comes almost two hours later is just short of aggressive.  Hoseok jumps up off the bed, ready in the case of trouble.

He does not miss the way your eyes go a bit wide when he opens the door, dressed in a thin tank and sweatpants.

“You need something?” he asks when you don’t say anything right away.

“Uh yeah, sorry,” you say with a shake of your head. “I’ve just never seen you in anything but a suit.  For a second I wasn’t sure you were the same man.”

“You think I sleep in a suit?”

“Well I wouldn’t put it past you,” you say hotly.  “But that’s not the point. I need you to take me to the office. Please.”

Hoseok glances at his watch.

“Now?”

“Yes,” you sigh. “I know it’s late and I’m sorry. This is super important.”

“Alright, hang on,” Hoseok says, turning to grab his holster from the dresser.  He slips into it and notices your gaze lingering on the pistol he fits onto his side.  You clear your throat and look down at the floor while he slips a sweatshirt overhead.

“It’s just a precaution, okay?”

Hoseok doesn’t know why he’s bothering to reassure you.  You know that he’s armed all the time, you grew up in this life.  None of this should surprise you.

You say nothing.

It takes only ten minutes to get across town to your office, in the dead of night and in the absence of traffic.  You look almost as irritated as you are surprised when Hoseok climbs out of the car to escort you inside.

“You’re coming in?”

“Yes,” Hoseok fires back, keeping pace just behind you.  “It’s well after hours. No one will see us together, since that’s what you’re so worried about.”

You stop for a moment, turning to face him and mouth opening like you want to deny it.  But you don’t.  

“Fine,” you say under your breath. “Please avoid looking at the cameras.”

“I know how to do my job,” Hoseok manages between gritted teeth.  

“I never said you didn’t,” you hiss back.

The two of you stand just outside the entrance to the building, trading glares.  

The tension feels like a step backward somehow.

One strained elevator ride later, Hoseok trails you into your office.  You flip the lights and immediately get to work going through file cabinets.  Hoseok takes a look around.

It’s not a huge space, but the large windows looking out onto the street make it look a little bigger.  Piles of file folders and papers are sorted into neat columns on your desk.  A desk, Hoseok notes -- completely devoid of personal effects.  No pictures, no mementos.  He doesn’t know why that bothers him so much.

“Shit.”

It’s the first word either one of you has spoken in five minutes.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

Hoseok turns to find you on your knees at the base of a filing cabinet, a pile of flash drives scattered across the floor.

“What is it?” he asks, crouching down beside you.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, covering your face with your hands.  

Hoseok picks up a flash drive, turns it to the side to read the small label.  It’s dated three years back, with the name “Cheon” written on the side.

“All of my digital evidence is gone. All of it,” you whisper, voice wobbling with emotion.  “I was searching the cloud at home and thought there was some kind of mistake. There’s no way this is a mistake. There’s no way my cloud and flash backups disappeared by chance.”

You’re right, of course, but Hoseok doesn’t voice that out loud.  You look stricken already without him pouring salt in that wound.

“What about these?” he asks, handing you the flash drive.  

“Old cases,” you say, shoving a hand through your hair.  “They didn’t bother to pull my old cases. Whoever took them knew exactly what they were looking for.”

Hoseok almost forgets himself for a moment.  

He nearly forgets who you are and who he is and what this is. He stops himself just short of reaching out to put a comforting hand on your shoulder.  

You turn tired eyes up to meet his.

“I’m screwed.”

**************************

tag list!

@saintjeonofbusan​ @lemonjoonah @illnevertrustmyselfagain @sunkissed725 @taetaewonderland @shadowhale @sugaminyoonjiji @jinhitwhore @trust-me-im-joly @daydreambrliever @jjeonjoon @ultraanonymousey @yoon-bug @multistantrash17 @poohsaidhi @alyboo-jpeg @sahmfanficbts @yoongissugarmommy

[ncitygirls]

matryoshka - part 1, 4k

sibling!johnny, taeyong x f reader, mark x f reader, platonic/‘sibling’!haechan

nct crime au, angst, cw: character death, death, mental illness, police, injury, violence

300 days

There are few people who can disarm a man like Johnny Seo. Since the rather untimely, and inexplicable death of his mother and father at the tender age of fourteen, he quickly adopted this persona. He considers it a token from his late mother. She had always said, in a voice as soft as the breeze in spring, that to be polite is to be in control. He holds himself to that quite forcibly, reminding himself time and time again that there is power in making others fold to him. At time it is as simple as approaching an adversary with a smile, and awaiting the flare in their skin, the bugle in their veins and the ripple in their muscles. There are few who can disarm Johnny Seo. But few does not equate to none.

“When will you discharge her?” Johnny began, the words rolling off of his tongue with an air of nonchalance that bordered on flippancy, but an edge that was new to even him.

“Mr Seo,” without thinking, Johnny rolls his neck, bracing himself for a response he knows he will refuse. He thinks it odd to loathe an act he is yet to commit, especially when he can still prevent it. What he hates more however, is that you are here to witness it. When the doctor sighs, letting his glasses hang around his neck, he smiles sympathetically. Johnny sees nothing but pity. “I’m not sure how else to say this, but physically? Your sister is stable enough to go home. When we went in to remove what was left of the bullet fragments and saw to her ruptured spleen, we managed to mend her torn ligaments. Her blood work came back clear, and for the most part, her vitals are stable. With a few weeks of physio, I think we would be able to discharge her. Ideally, she could go home this week.”

“Wonderful,” Johnny’s hollow cheer guides his hasty movements as he, unthinking, strips you of your blanket to reveal a sight he thinks might change his mind. Rows of red line your skin, moons of dried blood covering the heels of your palms. He cringes at the dirty cotton cuffs that strap you to the metal frame of your hospital bed. Johnny can’t seem to make sense of the sight. “Did this happen during the shooting?”

“No, Mr Seo,” the doctor shakes his head, his frustration with his patient’s only living relative shedding every second he watches Johnny take in your limp frame. “It is like I was saying. Miss Seo is fit enough to leave. But mentally-”

Johnny simply raises his palm, ignoring the tears that pool in and out the corners of your eyes, a steady stream gathering in your hairline as you relive the events the two refer to so flippantly. “She will do better at home.” It is unclear for whom the assurance is intended. The doctor, you, himself. It is all just hope. So it doesn’t matter. “She will do better once she’s home.”

“Mr Seo, as your sister’s physician, I must implore you to reconsider.” Johnny understands where the doctor is coming from, he truly does. Johnny, taught well by his father, prides himself in being understanding. Like his father before him, Johnny prides himself in being calm in the face of not only danger, but regular folk - those who go about their lives, slaves to normalcy. Those who live life year to year, those who plan their lives, who wake up to sleep, expecting to see the sun once again. Those who consider life a right, rather than a privilege. Johnny has come to understand men like this. Not by choice of course, but because he had to. Especially once you met Taeyong.

2,109 days

“I met a guy today,” the words crackle through the phone, Johnny’s fingers stilling as he finally takes a break from his work, placing a mental bookmark on his train of thought. He wants to ask where, but he doesn’t enjoy seeming interested in affairs of the heart. They sicken him. “He was really weird,” you hum as you kick the curb, swinging your arms as you traipse through what Johnny thinks must be your university campus. He pretends he bother to know your schedule, but never has a reason for why he always gets himself up before you leave every morning. “A good weird,” you add, “his clothes hardly fit, they were all baggy. It’s hard to explain.”

“You kids and your trends,” he huffs, spinning in his chair to watch the city, eyes landing on the bell tower of your campus. “What happened to a nicely fitted suit?”

“It’s a college campus, John. Plus, it’s like half ten in the morning,” you can hear his next question before he even asks. “I mentioned his clothes because I wanted you to envision him, not judge him.”

“Well, I am envisioning a bum.”

“Okay, but envision a cute bum,” you try. “A beautiful, cute, funny bum.”

“That is still a bum, y/n.” You hear the faint sound of floor boards creaking, a telltale sign that he’s pacing. “Did he ask you out?” You hum in agreement, always too shy to admit anything so personal outright. It is times like this he wonders why you bother calling him and not just Haechan. He’ll never tell you this however. Lest he lose his spot as your first call. “I hope ope he’s taking you somewhere nice?”

“Yeah, of course,” he knows you’re lying. He knows it’s Hyuck’s you're both going to. Not that there as an issue with Hyuck’s. Even if you’ve already had the menu four different ways, front to back and then back again. It’s where you take all your first dates, you give Haechan a chance to size them up, figure out if they’re worthy. “I just wanted to tell you first because I think he’s a real contender this time.”

“And you’ll be late home, so you won’t be making dinner again?” Your affirming grunt forced a long sigh from Johnny. However, no matter many times he claimed his annoyance was due to your absence inconveniencing him; you both knew the loneliness bothered him now. “Well, have fun.”

“I’ll try,” you sing. “And I’ll bring that coffee cake you love so much, okay?” Johnny offers his own affirming grunt. Though it sits a couple octaves below your own, you hear the sliver of joy he lets through. “Love you.”

He doesn’t respond. He had already hung up.

300 days

“Mr Seo?”

Johnny had finally shrugged off his suit jacket and let his shoulders sag when he heard his name for the umpteenth time that day. He wanta to ignore it, but what would mother say?

“Yes?” SMPA. The badge is hard to read as it glistens under the glaring hospital lights. But he can’t miss the shape, the obnoxious insignia.

“Good evening,” the detective starts, his smiling eyes are in direct contrast to the gloom and doom of the last few days. Johnny wonders if smiling with teeth is proper practice when greeting someone who almost lost their little sister. “I am Detective Lee, I have a few questions for you about the shooting at Hyuck’s Diner. If you have a moment.”

“Of course,” he sighs, straightening his spine. “I am sure you are aware, but I wasn’t there.”

“I think it’s lucky you weren’t,” the detective adds, a sad smile settling on the bed to your right. “I am a friend of Donghyuck’s.”

“Oh,” there’s a short second where Johnny feels an odd sense of comfort, one he believed would only come when you finally opened your eyes. He also feels some guilt. “I didn’t know he had any other friends in Seoul, I tried to reach everyone I could.”

“And thank you for that,” the detective lets his eyes fall on his friend’s unmoving figure for a moment, his gaze returning to Johnny when he feels a familiar prick. “I have been hard at work on this case. I received word you did not wish for your sister to remain in hospital. May I ask why?”

“It is a public hospital,” Johnny responds, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I can afford better.”

“Then why did you let her stay?” The detective asks, scribbling away. Johnny wonders what dictates the parameters of an investigation versus a friendly conversation. “Her psych eval?”

“No,” he sighs, eyeing Haechan to your right. “They wouldn’t let me take him too,” when the detective tilts his head, surprise evident in his round eyes, Johnny lets himself laugh for the first time in over a week. “You wouldn’t want to be me when she wakes up to find I left him behind.”

2,361 days

It is past midnight when you fly into Johnny’s bedroom, a dew gathering on your forehead, chin and neck. In his sleepy haze, he hears only the end of your ramblings, your steps ordered in a manner Johnny can only describe as frantic. It is not in his nature to panic, he leaves such trivialities to you. But when your wide eyes find his, fear brimming as you scramble to get ready, you throw him your phone and he finally sees why.

“There are a bunch of guys who won’t pay up at Hyuck’s and he’s scared. Let’s go.”

That’s how Johnny found himself parked outside Hyuck’s Diner in downtown Seoul, just north of the river. You didn’t give him a chance to park up as you dashed out the still moving vehicle, door left wide open. Johnny is thankful it’s late, but quickly notes it being far too late for Hyuck’s to still be open. As he parks up, he watches you storm into the near empty diner, sees the relief on Haechan’s tired face as you round the bar. Johnny can’t really make out what you’re saying, but he can see the fire in your eyes. He sniggers as he stalks after you, seeing his mother in them too.

“I said, pay up, or give it back.”

“That’s funny,” one of the burly men says, food spitting out his mouth and onto the clean bar top as he laughs in your face. While Johnny only counted two from outside, he can now see a third standing off to the side. When his eyes meet Johnny’s, he falters slightly, thick hands running through his hair as he avoids Johnny’s haunting figure hovering by the only exit. “Who exactly is gonna make us?”

“Me,” you grin, reaching for the back of his head and slamming it hard down onto the bar. You hear Haechan yelp in what you assume is fear for his newly polished, now dented bar top. As the guy to his left lunges at you, you’re quick to utilise your surroundings. Johnny almost applauds your ingenuity as you quickly reach for a used butter knife and practically mutilate the man’s fist. It is then Haechan disappears from your side, his head nearly halfway down the drain pipe as blood splurts onto his newly polished, now dented, now blood stained bar top. The first guy had rounded the bar, only to be met with a fist to the throat, and knee to the gut. Johnny sees you’re expecting something to happen as you repeat the motion before seeing sense. With your hand latched to his collar, you drag his doubled over body out onto the street before you knee him again.

In the middle of the intersection pours his unpaid bill, meeting one end of the deal. Johnny laughs at how visibly dissatisfies you are, considering how long their bill actually was. You fish his wallet out of his back pocket, taking a few hundreds to cover the balance. “Who even carries cash anymore?”

Johnny wonders too as you pass by him, walking back inside and turning on the third guy. “Your friend covered yours, so you’re free to go.” As he scrambles to leave, he keeps his eyes fixed on your brother, halting when Johnny moves to stop him, a lone finger pointing toward the man's weeping companion.

“Take them with you.”

It’s a few seconds before their presence is no more than a distant memory. Johnny is quick to clean the bloody bar top, and rearrange the furniture. He even loads the dishwasher as you tend to a still queasy Haechan. “When I text you, I didn’t think you would do all of that,” he huffs, backtracking as he notes the hurt look in your eyes. “I mean, I am so grateful. Really, I am,” he smirks, fatigue stealing the light that usually fills his eyes. “But I didn’t know you were The fucking Bride.” When you roll your eyes, he presses on, glimpses of his usual self slowly return as the adrenaline begins to kick in. “No, honestly! I wish I had cameras in here because- fuck! That was insane!”

“Alright, whatever. Get your things, you’re staying with us tonight.”

“Do you think they’ll come back?” Haechan asks, the worry in his tone hurting you beyond belief. “Do you think I should call Mark again?”

“Who, the cop? No, they won’t be coming back, trust me,” you hum. When Johnny emerges from the back, drying his hands on a clean rag, you jest, “no thanks to angel eyes over there may I add.”

“Oh my god, hyung! And you!” Haechan restarts, allowing you to pack up his things while he recounts the terror in the third man’s gaze as he locked eyes with your brother. “It’s like he saw a ghost or something.”

“Yeah,” you laugh, grabbing Haechan while Johnny locks up. “Or something.”

It’s nearly dawn when Haechan crashes. It was Monday and he needed to find cover for the open. But getting cover didn’t stop him fretting, and no amount of herbal tea nor booze could settle a frantic Haechan. It is laughable though, how it took no more than a film opening to send him off. You slip away at sunrise, snuggling up to Johnny who gave up on sending you away shortly after your parents passed. However, he still makes sure to express his disdain for the affection.

“At least stick to your side, y/n-”

“Thank you for coming tonight,” you breathe, clearly uninterested in satisfying his request. “I know you have to be up soon, and I’m sorry. But having you there was- yeah. Thank you.”

For the first time in years, Johnny lets you snuggle with him. An hour later, for the first time ever, Johnny lets Haechan do the same. He fears that this might become a pattern, the two of you craving so much affection it might suffocate him. Johnny knows it just might, but has found peace in that. Much like he has found peace in your insistence that Haechan be one of you. Because he is one of you, he too left orphaned at a young age, you took him under your wing. So much like that day, as Johnny falls asleep to the sound of your light snores, he also decides-

300 days

“He’s family.”

“He speaks so highly of you both,” Mark adds, smiling thankfully at your sleeping frame. “But I’m sure he would forgive you for doing what’s best for her.”

“She wouldn’t.” Johnny adds, though a part of him knows he might have trouble forgiving himself.

“What is it you do for a living?” Mark asks, eyes quickly scanning Johnny’s crisp suit. “I can’t say I recall Hyuck ever mentioning it.”

“A bit of this and that,” he jokes, glancing towards you. “That’s what she calls it.” He hates the melancholic tone he has adopted. It is pitiful. “After our parents passed, I took over their pharmaceuticals company just after I turned twenty-one. We dabble in everything; medicine, cosmeceuticals, nutrition, you name it.”

“That must keep you busy.”

“I work from home,” Johnny knows he is being foolish, trying to falsely place an accusation in Mark’s assumption. Johnny knows he fell into the classic trope of throwing himself into his studies, and then his work, just to avoid the harsh reality that his parents were gone and they were never coming back. He would readily admit he abandoned you in the beginning to grieve on your own, to figure it all out on your own. He just wouldn’t take that from a stranger. “I tried to be around for her as much as I could.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Mark’s smile is kind, full of unfiltered sympathy. Johnny wonders if you have to practice such a thing, and if so, whether someone should have the doctors do the same. “I just wonder if you are wearing yourself thin is all.”

“You needn’t worry about such things Detective.” Johnny reminds, drawing the line between the two so simply, his eyes flicking slowly to Mark’s badge. “Worry about the case.”

“Of course,” Mark rushes, scrambling to defend his statement. “I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

“And I you,” when the doctor enters to take both yours and Haechan’s vitals, he greets Mark warmly. Johnny feels no resentment to this warm reception, none whatsoever. But he can’t help but wonder what about him denies him the same warm greeting. He is quickly reminded of the first time he was to meet Taeyong.

1,977 days

“Your knees are shaking the counter, hyung,” Haechan sniggers. He knows he shouldn’t, he does. But he can’t help but bask in his friend’s nerves. How can the coldest man he knows be so scared to meet his sister’s boyfriend. As calm and collected as he behaves, Haechan is no stranger to worry, and it worries him to no end how the evening will go. From what he has heard from you, Taeyong is as nervous as one can be. And yet, your main concern lies in how your brother will react, and Haechan is an empathetic soul. He just knows he will feel it all. “Your vibe is really killing the mood, lighten up.”

“Shut up, kid.” Johnny warns, eyeing his watch every so often. “They’re late.”

Strike one.

“You know what y/n is like, she’s probably trying to talk him out of it.” Haechan notes how innocent Johnny looks with his head tilted, confusion bleeding into his features. “You are pretty scary hyung, maybe she thinks you’m scare him off.”

“Maybe he isn’t worthy then.”

Strike two.

“Or,” Haechan sings, adjusting his embroidered apron, Hyuck’s opening anniversary gift from the very man he is about to berate. “Maybe you’re not ready to watch your sister grow up, so you sabotage everything with your scary eyes and bad vibes,” Haechan shrugs with his chin in his palm, blinking sweetly at Johnny who resists the urge to flick his forehead.

“Don’t you have coffee to go pour?”

Haechan sniggers once more as he does just that, refilling Johnny’s coffee and shrugging. “Or maybe they’re stuck in traffic.”

So he can’t fly?

Strike three.

300 days

After a few hours, Mark returns for a detailed description of the three men he suspects may be involved in the shooting. Johnny says as much as he can recall, even going as far as to emphasise the detective’s lack of involvement. He suspects it is in direct retaliation to his earlier comment and ignores it, though Johnny quickly sees his own guilt reflected back in the detective’s guilt ridden eyes. “Will that be all?”

“Almost-” Mark starts, before glancing over at you. “I just,” he can’t seem to push past the lump in his throat. Johnny has given him everything he knows, that much is true. But after speaking with the doctor, Mark can’t help but wonder. “Why haven’t you tried speaking to her? Doctor Kim said she may respond well to a familiar voice.”

“I’m not sure what to say.”

Mark knows it’s a loaded statement. One dripping in regret, in guilt, and in shame. But Mark can’t afford for Johnny to be ashamed. Not with Haechan lying unconscious as you lie there, reliving that day over and over and over again. Mark needs you to wake up. But Mark also swore to never relinquish his compassion. All Mark knows of you is the stories he’s heard through Haechan. Though some have a rosier hue due to his familiarity with you, Mark is sure there is no exaggeration in your case. You are a good person. One who cares deeply, who loves deeply. Mark thinks those parts of you are the ones Johnny can tap into. He just won’t.

“Haechan was my first friend in Korea. When I moved here as a kid, my parents worked at the orphanage he was at. He made fun of my Korean for a year straight before I could finally understand and speak fluently enough to defend myself. But, I guess it was okay, you know? He was helping all the same. I was a scrawny kid, I used to get picked on a lot. He was always there. Even though he got beat up too. He’s in all my earliest- my best memories. growing up. He’s like my brother. If he was awake, I think I’d-”

“But he isn’t,” Johnny reminds, eyes locked on your sunken face. Johnny knows what Mark is doing, he knows the tactic very well. He is quite acquainted with guilt as a form of persuasion. “He’s not awake, detective. The doctor said he doesn’t know if he will ever wake up. You know, I overheard the doctors say they haven’t seen spinal fractures that severe in their fifty years of combined experience. They said if Haechan ever opens his eyes again it will be a miracle. If he walks again? This hospital would be internationally renowned. Those surgeons would be infamous. But they can’t. They can’t so it. They can’t do it because they don’t have the facilities for such an operation, and even if they did, Hyuck couldn’t afford it. Even if he could afford it, y/n would have to wake up and give them the okay, because this idiot made herself his guardian so he could practically sell his soul for the loan for that fucking diner.

“So, I’m sorry, detective. I’m sorry that the only thing standing between you ever seeing your friend again is my selfish sister.”

“Mr Seo-”

“But you must agree, she is selfish. She thinks she’s the only one hurting, the only one who has lost something, lost someone.” Mark only sees what Johnny is doing a few seconds too late. As Johnny raises a lone finger to his lips, his eyes catching on the stream pouring down your temples. Mark’s heart nearly beats out of his chest as your vital signs begin to whir, the machinery at your bedside coming to life as Johnny reminds you that, “people die every day. Our parents, Hyuck’s parents, and now Taeyong-”

“Don’t!” You scream suddenly, your body nearly thrashing off of the bed. Johnny fears the force with which you rise could snap your arms in two, but nothing is more worrisome than the bloody red rimming your crisp white eyes; the visible and painfully rapid rise and fall of your chest; the tremor in your chapped lips. “Don’t! Please! Please don’t say it-”

Johnny had never moved so fast. His hands clinging to your trembling frame as he stroked the back of your head. He chanted quickly in your ear, pleading with you to stay with him as he promises to stay. “I won’t go anywhere, I won’t leave you. Never. I promise. Just please, stay with me, okay? I need you here, Hyuck- Hyuck needs you, okay? I need you to stay with me, we’re all we have. Please, y/n-”

Mark couldn’t help but feel intrusive. His earlier pushing began to feel filthy, unfair, unjust. But how could he know you were this far gone, this distraught. Nothing is more sickening than the soft, croaky ‘yes’ that spills from your lips. Your bloodshot eyes lingering on his frozen frame before you see Haechan. You tremble again, your body nearly convulsing as you recognise the boy beside you.

“Shh, he’ll be okay- I promise- we’ll get him help. I promise you- we’ll be okay.”

Johnny rarely spoke out of hope. He was a man who would cling so tightly to reality, you would sometimes joke that his knuckles would snap from the pressure. But as he holds you tightly in his arms, rocking your hollow frame back and forth, he realises he has nothing more than hope.

But since when has hope ever been enough?

[moonknightly]

and you keep me holding on : santiago “pope” garcia x reader (three)

Word Count: 5.5k+

Excerpt: “Had he told her? When she was leaving his office that night, had Santi told her how much he loved her?”

Warnings: Kidnapping, violence, mentions of blood, cursing, guns, uhhh that should be it?

[SERIES MASTERLIST]

OCTOBER 19TH - DAY THREE

Two days pass with absolutely nothing. Santi’s boss has given him strict orders to stay as far away from work as possible, and he actually decides to listen for a change. He knows he would be useless to his co-workers in his current state.

Cameron refuses to let him anywhere near the precinct either, saying it’ll only add to his stress. He knows she’s right, but part of him still wishes he could be there, just so he can sit right by the phone and be the first to know if she’d been found, but he doubts that Cameron would budge on the matter. He still begged her to call him if she heard anything at all though, and she’d promised she would.

It’s not a promise Santiago is taking lightly.

He’s hardly left Jay’s couch since arriving back in New York from Princeton. He only gets up when it’s absolutely necessary, and even then, it’s only for a minute or two at a time. He hasn’t combed his hair, has only brushed his teeth once. His drive and motivation are just completely lacking without her.

He’s been wearing the same set of sweats from the moment he was able to change out of his blood soaked clothes. He has no idea what Jay’s done with them, but he hopes they were put in the trash and not sitting at the bottom of the washing machine. He never wants to see those damn pants ever again, or the shirt for that matter. He’d been contemplating setting both articles of clothing on fire, but he was positive that Jay wouldn’t appreciate the smoke and ash filling his apartment, setting the fire alarm off and disturbing his neighbors.

But fuck, had he wanted to watch them burn.

The news of her disappearance spread rapidly, and Pope still doesn’t know if he’s thankful for the attention or if the coverage only continued to add to his rage and unease. He figures that he’s allowed to feel both.

Cameron had spoken at a press conference in the early morning following their trip to Princeton, and there had been an article printed on the front page of several newspapers. They’d used a fairly recent photo of her, one that was taken while she was dressed out in her scrubs. Santi was actually in it as well, though they’d cropped him out of course.

It had been one of his favorite pictures of the two of them together, but now it just makes his stomach sick every single time it flashes across the TV screen.

Her parents had been notified just prior to the press conference. Santi hadn’t been the one to make the phone call, and while he felt some sort of guilt over it, he was also glad he hadn’t had to face them yet — he’s not ready for her mother’s tears or her father’s icecold glare and sharp words. He knows they’re going to blame him for not protecting her properly, for not doing what was supposed to be his one job when it came to her, just as he was blaming himself.

He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to face them.

He doesn’t even know how to face his own parents. 

His mother calls him at least once an hour, and each time he lets it go to voicemail. He has 41 missed calls and almost twice as many unopened texts, but he never fails to check who they’re from, jumping to his feet and snatching his phone from wherever it lay each time a new one came through, just in case it’s an unknown number that might be her or even Nathan.

But it only continues to be his mom and sometimes the boys, though they’re trying their best to give him the space they know he needs.

He doesn’t think he needs space.

Santi starts to have second thoughts about staying away from work. The later the day drags on, the more and more anxious he feels. 

The more and more useless. 

He needs to do something other than just sitting there, watching TV and waiting for the phone to ring once again.

He’s better than this, worth more than this. If he could only work on his own or with the boys even, he was sure they’d be ten steps closer to finding her. He knows it and he can’t stand playing by the damn rules but his emotions are still running too high and he doesn’t even know where to begin.

All Santi knows is that he can’t fucking sit there and do nothing anymore.

He throws the blanket off of his legs and stands from the couch, immediately going to the bag he’d brought from the apartment, pulling out a pair of faded jeans and a black t-shirt. It’s obvious that his shirt hadn’t been properly folded, but he has his bullet proof vest to throw on over the wrinkled garment, not that he really cares and not that it really matters.

He’s out the door within ten minutes.

Parker is the first to see Santi enter the precinct. She’s sitting at one of the tables in the corner, idly talking with Cameron about a case from several years ago and she can’t help the sigh and the not-so-subtle shake of her head that follows upon seeing him walk towards them.

“I thought you told Garcia that he couldn’t be here.”

“I did.”

She doesn’t have to turn around to know that Santi’s approaching, and she still doesn’t turn around even when she senses him come to a stop directly behind her, just a few feet away.

“But you and I both know how well he tends to follow directions.”

“Yeah,” Parker scoffs, shaking her head once again and folding her arms across her chest.

Cameron finally turns in her chair, facing Santi after several long seconds. She feels a twinge in her chest as she takes in his dejected expression and tired eyes. He looks rough, and so so worried but that’s all to be expected. She swallows the lump in her throat and wills her own nerves to settle, giving her full attention to Santi.

“What are you doing here Pope?”

“Do you know how fuckin’ awful daytime television is?”

“What, Judge Judy not doing it for you?” Parker jokes, a smirk plastered across her face as she leans further back into her chair.

Santi cracks a small smile, his first one in days, though it’s nowhere near genuine. It’s so extremely forced, his cheeks ache with the effort even. He shuffles his feet gently, glancing at his shoes briefly before he looks back up to Cameron.

“I just can’t sit on Jay’s couch anymore. I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

Cameron nods her head in understanding. She can’t count how many times she’s sat at home, her mind captivated by a case that she wanted nothing more than to work on for every second of the day. She tries to relate her own experience to what Santi must be feeling, but she still can’t imagine what he must be going through, as the case involves his wife and not just a random victim. She would be so far gone had she been in his shoes.

“You know,” she starts, trying to think of the best possible way to word her sentence. “You’re her husband first, before anything else you’re her partner Santiago. You really don’t need to be her detective too.” She refrains from reminding him that technically, he’s not even officially on the case. “We can handle this, Pope. You’re allowed to take the time to grieve.”

“I don’t want to grieve,” he mumbles under his breath, almost inaudibly. He sounds so completely unlike himself. Cameron begins to speak again, but he interrupts her with a shake of his head. “Not yet.”

Cameron knows it’s not the time to talk about statistics and probability. She knows Santi doesn’t need to be reminded of her chances and Cameron’s not even really paying attention to the numbers herself because this is her they’re talking about. It’s far too close to home.

They’ve definitely recovered missing persons who had been gone for much, much longer.

So she only nods her head slowly, giving Santi a soft, gentle smile. “How would you feel about doing some paperwork for me then? There’s still some notes on my desk that need to be entered in.”

She knows it would be better to give him some sort of work — something to distract his mind so he’s not just sitting there, only further losing himself to worry and panic. Santi seems to feel the same way because he nods without question, not complaining or groaning in protest like he used to whenever she’d ask him to do her paperwork.

“I can do that.”

Santi walks off without another word, sitting himself behind Cameron’s desk, trying to drown himself in busy work. He just needs to turn his brain off, put it on something else for a while. 

And it works, kind of. At least, he thinks it does, but Cameron can’t help but frown at the haunted look that lingers in Santi’s eyes, still so noticeable even from across the room. Parker sighs quietly, looking between her lieutenant and Pope.

“You sure this is a good idea?”

She doesn’t know what to tell her, because no, she’s not sure. She’s not sure at fucking all.

Part of her think that he needs to take a step back and stay away, but a larger part of her doesn’t think having him cooped up in an apartment with only his thoughts to keep him company is a good idea either.

At least this way, he isn’t alone and they can keep an eye on him. Make sure that he wasn’t doing anything irrational, make sure he’s taking care of himself, drinking water and eating.

And so, she’s honest.

“I don’t know.”

Parker only nods, her stance on the situation exactly the same. It’s a hard position to be in, no doubt, having to decide whether you’re going to act as a friend or a person of authority.

Nothing else is said between the pair, and the day drags on slowly, though no one is complaining. Slow is a nice change, especially given the added stress they’re all under. Jay returns to the precinct from interviewing some of Nathan’s old co-workers sometime in the early afternoon, instantly noticing Santi sitting at Cameron’s desk, though after one look towards his Lieutenant, he decides not to say anything.

It was just before three o’clock when Santi is broken from an almost trance-like state. He’s been so focused on typing up report after report he’s hardly noticed the world around him in the time that’s passed. He isn’t even entirely sure what pulled his attention away until he feels his Apple watch buzz against his wrist.

He rolls his eyes, only slightly annoyed at the interruption. A sigh leaves his lips as he raises his watch to see who’d decided to text him — it was probably just his mother or maybe Frankie, trying to get in touch with him again, asking how-

Santi feels his blood run cold the moment the display of his watch comes up, because the name that flashes across the screen definitely isn’t his mother’s.

The name that flashed across the screen reads “Mi Vida”, or “My Life” from Spanish to English.

It’s her. Or, it’s at least her Apple watch. Her cell phone is still at the apartment, but Santi had completely forgotten about her watch.

He quickly shakes the shock away, blinking several times as her name fades away and the actual message comes onto the screen. It’s a picture, one Santi couldn’t see very well because of the small screen and he lets out a loud curse, not caring about the stares he receives in return, hastily digging his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it and pulling up the text thread in a matter of seconds.

Santi’s stomach drops. His face turns pale and he feels the need to vomit yet again, though his stomach still doesn’t have much of anything to offer.

Jay hears Santi’s outburst and promptly makes his way over to the desk. Santi hears him ask what's wrong, but he can’t form the words, can’t make himself say anything. He doesn’t want to, doesn’t know how to. His entire focus is on his phone, on the picture in his hands. Because she’s in it, but it isn’t a happy picture — not one that he would normally sit back and admire with a soft smile and even softer eyes.

She’s in it, but she’s tied up, legs and arms bound with a gag in place. There’s an obvious cut in her eyebrow, no doubt from the broken shards of glass of their once bathroom mirror. It looks as if her hands are tied to a bed frame or a pole of some kind — Santi can’t tell, doesn’t care enough about that aspect of the photo, no.

No, he’s much more focused on her face, on the terror that is so evident and haunting he’s sure that he’ll see the same image every time he closes his eyes for the rest of his life. She looks so scared, so terrified, and Santi feels his heart shatter even further, and his own fear grips him tight and refuses to let go, doesn’t allow him to move even a muscle.

He still holds completely still even after Jay yanks the phone from his grasp, still stares into thin air at where the phone had been. Jay looks at him, concern etched all over his face until he looks at the screen, suddenly understanding the horror that’s taken over his friend.

“Cameron!” Jay calls out, the panic evident in his voice, his feet not daring to move. He feels stuck in place.

Santi still doesn’t move, he can’t move, doesn’t want to move because he feels as if he might faint but Cameron is the exact opposite, rushing over with Parker right behind.

Jay holds the phone out to her with shaky hands, but reels back when he feels it vibrate again.

Another message comes through from her watch. She, or rather Nathan, started sharing their current location — somewhere in Allentown, Pennsylvania. Santi hears the buzz, and promptly snatches the phone from Jay, looking at it for a moment before Cameron does the same to him.

She stands silent for several seconds. Part of her feels like it’s a trap, a set up to lure them off-course. It’s just too easy, it’s never that easy. There’s something entirely off about it, and the nerves in her stomach pick back up at a rapid speed.

But she can’t just ignore it because her instinct is off. It was too large of a lead to be ignored.

“Jay, call down to Allentown. Have them set up roadblocks on all routes out. Parker, start calling the surrounding towns and have them do the same. No one approaches Nathan until we’re there.”

They both fall into action immediately, doing as they’re asked, but Santi continues to sit quietly in his chair, eyes void of any and all emotion.

Cameron leans over him, pulling the chair back so he rolls a few feet away from the desk.

“Come on, Santiago,” she says gently, clasping her hand on his shoulder, giving him an encouraging squeeze.

Santi stands without a word, taking his vest off the back of the chair, putting it on slowly, slower than Cameron has ever seen him. She watches him closely, her heart sinking as she does so, as she thinks about so many different outcomes and possibilities.

If they don’t find her, she doesn’t know what will happen to Santi. What Pope will do, who he’ll become in the midst of his grief.  

She isn’t ready to lose both Garcia’s

The drive to Allentown is even more agonizing than the drive to Princeton. Seconds feel like minutes, minutes feel like hours. The wait and uncertainty of it all is killing everyone, and the butterflies in the pits of their stomachs are buzzing around in a crazy sort of frenzy, though they’re by no means good or even tolerable butterflies. They so desperately want this lead to bring something promising, but the doubt still looms over their minds, causing nothing but anxiety and unwelcome thoughts.

Santi is leaning against the cool window of the squad car. Cameron’s driving, her knuckles white as she tightly grips the steering wheel. Every few seconds, she’ll glance over at him, just to check on him, though she doesn’t expect any change. He hasn’t moved since they left the city, hasn’t said a word and still she feels the need to just keep checking. Keep monitoring.

Santi watches the trees pass by in a blur. The last time he’d been to Pennsylvania, he’d been with her, when she wanted to take a weekend trip down to State College to show him around PSU, where she’d gone to school to earn her nursing degree. She’d taken him all around campus, even introducing him to her favorite professor. They went to eat at her favorite restaurants, she drove him past the house she had spent her senior year in. They had even caught the game that weekend against the University of Michigan.

It’d been such a fun weekend, but even the memory of it couldn’t bring a smile to Santi’s face. None of their memories together seem to trigger anything in that moment and he’s been flipping through them all, searching for one that doesn’t make him want to cry. 

He thinks about all of the different trips they’d taken together, he thinks about their lazy Sunday mornings spent between the sheets, the stolen kisses and the sweet nothings whispered into each other’s ears — words spoken with so much conviction and love and trust. He thinks of the late night Netflix binges and the endless amount of family dinners her mother invited them to. Even the memory of their wedding makes Santi want to break down and sob, but he figures that to be the fact that their two year wedding anniversary is quickly approaching and he doesn’t know whether or not he would be spending it alone.

He thinks back to the first day they’d met, when the DEA had been working with the NYPD on a bust and he’d gone to interview a victim at the hospital. All it took was one look at her and he knew that he was a goner. Her confidence and her beauty had completely knocked the breath from his lungs, and he remembers feeling absolutely floored when he’d witnessed her interact with a patient for the first time.

He’d asked her on their first date three months later, after taking every chance he could find to visit the hospital. He expected her to be hesitant but she had accepted almost immediately, taking him by surprise but making him oh so happy at the same time. When he had asked her why, months after the fact, she had simply answered by saying “because I knew I was going to marry you the first moment I saw you.”

Santi had known the same, if he was being completely honest, and so he proposed after only nine months, and they married fourteen after that. He’d never pictured himself proposing to someone after such little time, really he never imagined getting married at all, but it had just felt right with her. 

Everything with her just feels so absolutely right. He doesn’t want to think about what the last four years of his life would have been like if he didn’t know her.

And of course he can’t imagine going forward without her, either. Can’t imagine waking up for the rest of his life without her by his side, can’t imagine not being able to hear her laugh ever again, or being able to tell her he loves her.

Had he told her? When she was leaving his office that night, had Santi told her how much he loved her? Had he given her a kiss goodbye? Or had he been too preoccupied with the mountain of work that had been covering his desk?

He can’t remember.

He’s almost sure that he had, but he can’t help but second guess himself because he knows how easily distracted he can become.

There’s a new wave of guilt that comes washing over him, and he can’t help but feel so conflicted. He had tried to do something nice by letting her go home when she had been trying so hard to stay and wait for him. He knew she had been exhausted, but if he had just been a little selfish, if he had just let her stay with him then she might still be here. They would’ve entered their apartment together and there was absolutely no way in hell Santi would’ve let Nathan walk out with her.

He starts thinking about all of the times he had sent her home alone before, and how many opportunities that meant Nathan would have had to take her.

He quickly shoves the thought away after feeling his head begin to spin. Santi swallows the lump in his throat and gently shuts his eyes, trying to make himself think about anything else.

He doesn’t open them again until they arrive in Allentown thirty minutes later.

They flip their lights on just after they cross city limits, but keep their sirens turned off, a few Allentown PD cars merging behind them as they pass the roadblock. Cameron is following closely behind Parker, who leads the way in the other squad car. Jay had taken Santi’s phone before they left the precinct, and Santi had protested of course, but they all knew what would have happened had Santi kept it. He wouldn’t have looked away from it, not that Jay had been any better himself, but no one thought it was smart to let Santi suffer through the car ride with it in his hand, staring at a map and praying that the location didn’t go out.

Her watch has been sitting in the same location for the last forty five minutes — just outside of a book shop in the center of town. Jay has a bad feeling about the entire situation; a feeling he can only describe as somewhere between doubt and apprehension. He knows that if it had been her and only her, she would’ve gone straight to the Police Department or the hospital. She would have called for help, would have texted Santi, something. He knows there’s something wrong, something off.

“Pull off into this parking lot here,” Jay instructs when they’re only two blocks away.

Parker does as she’s told before coming to an abrupt stop, throwing the car into park and hastily climbing out.

Santi is already out of the other car by then, he’d thrown his door open before they were even completely stopped, but Cameron had done the same.

The squad wordlessly gathers into a small circle, all securing their vests and pulling their guns from their holsters, though they keep the safety on as standard protocol. The Allentown officers follow suit, and wait for instruction from Cameron.

She glances at each of her squad members, her eyes lingering on Santi for the longest. They’re all looking at her, all except for him.

He’s instead staring at the ground, jaw clenched and mouth set in a thin, straight line. His eyes are darker than their normal chocolate shade, and Cameron doesn’t like what she sees when she looks into them. There’s a certain sort of determination swimming in his irises — hollow and cold, calculated and oh so sure all at the same time. 

She can tell with just one look that he’s plotting something.

That he’s thinking about what he’s willing to do in order to get her back, what he’s willing to give up. She can tell that he’s made up his mind, that he’ll do and risk anything to save her, and that even then, having her back might not be good enough.

“Pope,” she murmurs gently, almost flinching when his eyes met hers with a glare she knows isn’t truly directed at her. “You don’t have to do this. You can stay here, in the car.”

Santiago scoffs gently, shaking his head and biting the inside of his cheek. “And why would I do that?”

“Because I know what you’re thinking. I know what you’re planning. And Pope, if you do it, you’re going to lose a piece of yourself that you can never get back-”

“I can lose everything!” he snaps, voice raised, the anger and the pain oh so evident in both his tone and the expression written across his face. It makes some of the Allentown officers take a step back, but the squad doesn’t even flinch. 

“I can lose fuckin’ everything but I can’t lose her.”

Cameron is silent, but she still holds his eye contact, still stands her ground. Santi is the first to look away, lip quivering slightly though he quickly sucks in a shaky breath to play it off, pushing his emotions down, down, down.

“God, not her.”

The anger quickly fades and is swiftly replaced by sadness and grief, the sudden change jarring for everyone. Cameron feels a pang in her chest as she watches him attempt to hold himself together — Santi has never been good at hiding his anger, but this is different from every other time he’s let his temper show around the squad. 

It’s different and it makes her nod her head and gently clasp him on his shoulder.

“We’ll find her, and then I promise you, Nathan will get what he deserves.”

Santi sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, biting gently as he nods himself, still refusing to actually look towards Cameron. Part of him feels ashamed for the thoughts running through his head, but a larger part of him, the part he’s given into more than once in his time with the military and in law enforcement, didn’t care.

A larger part of him wants nothing more than to watch Nathan suffer.

Cameron waits a few more seconds before giving the squad the order to move, the Allentown officers following closely behind. Jay decides to put himself in front of Santi, and they all quickly make their way towards the book shop, guns drawn and aimed at the ground.

Santi’s the only one with the safety already switched off.

Cameron is several steps ahead, and rounds the corner before anyone else.

She instantly feels the dejection settle in the pit of her stomach, but she’d been expecting it.

She isn’t there, and neither is Nathan. The only person on the street is a teenage boy, looking down and fumbling with something in his hand that looked a lot like-

She stopped in her tracks, a scoff falling from her lips. Jay comes up behind her just a second later, followed directly by Santi.

“Jay, you’re positive we’re in the right spot?”

Jay glances towards the phone that is still in his hand, nodding his head as he double checks, triple checks. “Yeah, I’m sure. The signal is coming from right over there.”

Cameron nods towards the young boy, her shoulders sagging with the words that followed.

“We’ve been played.”

All of the hope anyone had been holding onto quickly fades. The atmosphere surrounding the squad turns heavy instantly, but Santi only feels a fire ignite deep in his chest, twisting his veins, taking over his every thought.

Santi pushes past Jay and Cameron, not bothering to listen as they both call his name, asking him to just hold on for a second and to just let them handle it.

The boy doesn’t look up until Santi snatches the watch away from him, gripping it tightly in his fist before using his other hand to grab the front of the kid’s shirt, effortlessly hoisting him off of the bench.

“Hey, what the hell man-”

“Where did you get this?” Santi questions, voice sharp, caustic, venom dripping from his tongue.

The boy’s eyes widen, and he holds his hands up in surrender once seeing the fury on Santi’s face, shaking his head frantically as he fumbles with his words. “I don’t-”

Santi’s fist tightens around the fabric of his shirt, and he knows what he’s doing is wrong, he shouldn’t be manhandling a young teenage boy but he’s positively seething and all he can see is red and why the fuck did this kid have her fucking watch?

“I’m going to ask you one more time. Where did you get the watch?”

“Pope!” Cameron yells from just behind him, though he didn’t turn the face her, his eyes staying focused on the boy. “Santiago, that’s enough.”

He can’t stop, can’t make himself even if he had wanted to. Not until he gets an answer.

All of the control he has left is completely gone, vanished the moment he realized she isn’t here.

She isn’t there she isn’t here she isn’t-

“Where!?” Santi yells into the boy’s face, completely ignoring Cameron’s command.

“Some guy gave it to me! He said all I had to do was sit here for a little while and that it was mine to keep and-”

“What did he look like?”

“He had brown hair and I...I don’t know man, just let me go!”

“Was there a girl with him?”

The boy looks confused now, eyebrows furrowing and lips turning into a deep frown. “What-”

Santi shakes the boy violently, only once, just enough to scare him. “A girl, was there a girl-”

“No! No, I didn’t see any girl!”

Santi feels his heart sink even deeper into his chest. He only stares for a few seconds longer, the full weight of what he’s just done to a young kid finally settling in just as his sorrow started to outweigh the anger once more. Pope looks down at his feet as he quietly mumbles something that sounded like an apology before letting go of the boy’s shirt, turning on his heel and briskly walking away, but not before Cameron stops him.

“Santiago, what the hell were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t,” he mumbles, shrugging her off, desperately wanting to put some distance between him and everyone else, continuing to walk away, shoving his wife’s watch into his pocket as he does so.

Cameron calls out to him again, but just like every other time over the course of the past few days, he doesn’t listen.

As he makes his way back to the car, quickly walking past the squad and the other officers, Santi feels the anger flood into his body once again. He feels it settle between his ribs and make a home where so much love had once lived, where so much hope had been only moments before.

The constant back and forth is giving him whiplash.

Cameron still continues to follow him, still continues to call out his name but she really doesn’t think that he’ll stop, and she’s just about to give up when Santi whirls around with his gun still in his hand, though it isn’t aimed towards her. It isn’t aimed at anything, really.

The look in Santi’s eyes is even colder than before, if that’s even at all possible. Cameron feels fear prick at her skin, her hair standing on edge and her blood turning to ice. All she can do is take in his every movement and wait for a moment where she’s forced to intervene. Santi lifts his arms up, and for just a split second she thinks that he’s going to place the muzzle of the gun to his temple but he only lets the barrel rest against his skin, eyes falling shut.

Cameron still doesn’t like the fact that his finger is hovering near the trigger.

She cautiously approaches, making sure not to walk too fast, not wanting to scare him and cause him to panic. She reaches her own hand up and gently puts it overtop of Santi’s before slowly pulling the gun from his grasp.

His eyes snap open, and there’s absolutely no denying it. Not with eyes so dark and harsh and so devoid of emotion. Eyes that are almost dead.

Santiago is out for revenge. Out for blood.

He’s over this game of cat and mouse, he’s over chasing Nathan.

He’s over being toyed with.

Cameron is done watching her friend lose his mind.

And so, not caring about the anger from the entire squad that her decision will bring, she makes the only call she can think of. One she should have made at the very beginning.

One that will hopefully keep her from losing anyone else.

“I’m turning her case over. We’re done.”

[shadow-assassin-blix]

Parent Trap AU

PART 3

Marcus Moreno X Reader

Alright some angst in this. But lots of fluff. Dress described is the 16th one here

The Artist

The night passed by without anymore issues, despite the lecture that Artemis received about emergency phone calls.

The next morning came swiftly, and as she heard Artemis getting ready, she stared into her closet, trying to figure out what she was going to wear. She bit her lip as she stared into her closet.

She wanted to wear something light; she spied the lightweight blue dress and its small matching belt hanging there. She quietly put it on and slipped on a pair of black pumps.

She quietly fixed up her hair and put on some makeup.

Artemis popped her head into the door, and said, “Hey Ma, you almost ready? They should be here soon.”

Shade smiled at her through the mirror, finishing up.

“What do ya think?” Shade asked her, giving a small twirl.

“You look really pretty mommy,” Artemis complimented.

She thanked her, giving her a small kiss on her head, as they walked downstairs. Artemis grabbed her stuff for the day and Shade her purse, as they heard a honk outside.

They stepped outside, Shade smiling as she watched Marcus get out of his car to open up the passenger side door, both front and back.

As the two of them walked over he greeted them, “Hello ladies, your chariot awaits.”

Artemis giggled and said hi as she hopped in. Shade kissed Marcus on the cheek in greeting as she stepped inside, smiling at the flustered look he gave her at the action.

In no time, they dropped the kids at his Mom’s, and she gave Shade a curious look as they left them there.

They arrived at the diner 20 minutes later and they got a booth seat.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been here,” Marcus commented looking around. “Seems nothing has changed.”

“No. It hasn’t. Your mom…. She remembers me, doesn’t she?” She asked with a wince thinking back to the look.

“Yep. She uhh. She has been quiet about the whole thing. I’m sure she has her opinions, but she has strangely not expressed them,” Marcus shrugged not worried.

“I remember having a hard time impressing her when we first started dating,” Shade mentioned as she stared at the menu.

Marcus chuckled quietly, nodding his head, “Yeah. I remember that too.”

They ordered their food and drinks, making small talk. It wasn’t awkward, or uncomfortable. It was light and easy; they spoke like no time had passed at all.

They were halfway through their meal when Marcus’ phone rang; it was his mother.

“Hey mom, what’s-”

He stopped speaking as she spoke; a moment later he hung up.

“We need to go. Something’s wrong with the girls?” Marcus informed her with a confused look.

They paid for their meal and made their way back to his mother’s house.

As they pulled up, his mother met them at the car.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your date you two. But the girls are acting strange,” She began, her face pulled into a frown. “The girls were in the living room, talking and having fun. All of sudden, it got really quiet, and Missy ran outside. Both of them refuse to tell me what happen.”

Marcus leaned against his car, pondering, running his hand over his chin.

Shade stared at the house and tried to think about what could have happened. She thought back to the last time she was inside this house.

“Wait… you said they were in the living room?” Shade thought on, realizing something.

At his mother’s nod, she continued, “On your mantle… you wouldn’t happen to have any photos… of her mother?”

His mother gasped in realization and Marcus sucked in a breath as he answered, “Yes. There is.”

“Divide and conquer? I take yours, you take mine?” Shade proposed with a small smile.

Marcus nodded, kissing her cheek as he walked inside. Mrs. Moreno walked led her to Missy’s favorite spot in the garden. Shade thanked her, as she strolled over to her.

“Hey sweetie, may I join you?” Shade greeted as she stood near her.

Missy slid over quietly, not making eye contact. She kept facing a different direction, not wanting Shade to see her tears.

“Ya know… I often wonder… What it would’ve been like… if your father and I had stayed together. Would we still have you and Artemis? Would our child be a combination of the two you? Or nothing like the two of you at all?” Shade started, staring at the blooming flowers all around.

“Then I realize… that you are the way that you are… because of your mother. And I wouldn’t want you any other way,” She revealed looking at Missy.

“I never told your dad. But I met your mom once. And technically you,” She divulged with a small sigh.

Missy looked at her, and said tearily, “Really?”

“Mmhmm. I bumped into her at the park. I had just had to deal with my ex who made me feel like crap. Crying. Artemis was sleeping. She came and sat with me. We talked… for hours. She knew who I was and assured me that… your dad was happy,” She further explained.

“That was when I knew… she was good for him. That I didn’t have to worry about him. It broke my heart when I heard of her passing,” She said with a sad smile.

Missy was quiet as she listened, sniffling softly every now and again.

“Me and Artie were talking… and I saw my mom’s photo… and I… I don’t know.. I was just really sad all of a sudden. I started to cry, and I didn’t know what to tell Artie, so I ran outside,” Missy tried to explain.

Shade nodded in understanding, “That’s the sucky thing about grief. It never really goes away. That’s not a bad thing though. It happens to everyone. I’m sure even your dad gets really sad too.”

“You think so?” Missy whispered staring up at her, unshed tears in her eyes.

“Yeah. I do,” Shade assured her. “I want you to know… I would never try to replace her in your heart. But… I do hope, maybe one day… you’ll make room in that big heart of yours for me and Artemis?”

Missy bit her lip and gave a small nod, “I’d like that one day.”

“May I hug you sweetie?” Shade asked opening her arms.

Missy nodded her head harder, throwing her arms around her waist, burying her head into her chest. Shade wrapped her arms around her tightly. She could feel her shoulders shake, as she cried. Shade shushed her quietly, rubbing her back.

The Hero

He stepped into the living room and sighed softly as he took in Artemis’s form. She was curled into a ball, hugging her knees to her chest.

He sat down on the couch, with a sigh. His gaze fixated on the mantle and noticed that one of the photos on it was a family photo from when Missy was 6.

He quietly turned toward Artemis; his right leg resting on the couch, as his left hung off the side.

“She’s not upset with you, I hope you know that honey,” Marcus began with a sad face.

“I know. I’m sad for her,” Artemis said quietly.

“That’s very kind of you. She tries very hard to not show that she misses her. Tries to be strong for me. I guess we never really quite asked you two, if you were okay with us dating. It’s… a big change,” Marcus empathized.

“Yeah. It doesn’t bother me cause… Mom… My dad doesn’t come around. When he does, he just makes us sad. This is the first time she’s ever really smiled a lot. She even sang in the shower last night and she never does that. You make her happy,” Artemis confided to him.

“Is that so? I’m sorry your dad is like that. Some people… are just not meant to be parents. It doesn’t have anything to do with you or her. That’s all on him,” Marcus told her.

“… He remarried and has 2 kids. He only comes around to pretend like he cares. He… and my mom fight a lot when he comes around. I don’t like it when he comes over,” She whispered with trembling lip.

Marcus felt his chest tighten with slight anger at the thought of this guy upsetting the two of them.

“I want you to know something. Just because I have Missy already, doesn’t mean you are any less important to me. Your mother makes me really happy too, and I see how happy you make Missy. She doesn’t wear her “Don’t talk to me” outfit nearly as much,” Marcus replied.

Artemis giggled as she thought about the outfit in question.

“Listen. I know, there’s going to be some adjustments within both of our families. There will probably be some tears shed… by everyone. Can you promise me to try and talk to us if anything upsets you? Especially when it comes to your dad, if he tries to show his face again, to cause problems? I want BOTH of you in my life,” Marcus asserted softly.

Artemis nodded, before quietly requesting, “May I hug you?”

Marcus chuckled and stated, “Yes. C’mere.”

He waved her forward and she launched herself into his arms. He hugged her with a laugh.

He heard her mutter something he wasn’t sure he was supposed to hear.

“I wish you and my mom stay together, so you can be my dad instead.”

He felt his heart swell with emotion, and he simply hugged her tighter.

When they pulled apart, he noticed that Shade was walking in with Missy.

“Hey, you two,” He greeted softly.

Missy ran forward and hugged Artemis fiercely, telling her she was sorry. Artemis hugged back and they began to whisper to one another. Shade came over to stand next to Marcus, her arm coming to rest along his shoulders.

The two of them watched their girls promise something to each, via pinky swears. The girls then turned to them and hugged their respective parent, both apologizing for ruining their date.

“Girls. You didn’t ruin anything. In fact, from the smell of it… it appears Mrs. Moreno is cooking up a storm in the kitchen. Why don’t you two go see if she needs help?” Shade offered, pointing toward the kitchen.

The two of them rush off toward the kitchen with smiles. Shade collapsed next to Marcus with a small groan.

“We are raising two very sweet girls,” Shade noted closing her eyes.

“Indeed. But they will turn out kind and wonderful,” Marcus said sweetly as he sat back with her.

She smiled at the thought.

“So. What do you think we should do?” Shade wondered.

“Take it one day at a time. Baby steps. The two of them see us together and want us to be happy. But it’s also a big change for the both of them. So… we do what feels right,” Marcus answered softly.

Shade stared at him in amazement.

“What?” He questioned softly.

“Why are you amazing? How… even after all this time.. How do you just know what to say? How are you still so perfect?” She asked looking at him tenderly.

“’m not perfect,” He mumbled shyly, rubbing the back of his head.

Shade softly reached for him, and he looked at her as she slowly leaned forward. He straightened up, moving to meet her halfway. He pressed his lips softly to hers, pulling back a second later. They both chuckled a moment, before he kissed her again more firmly. This kiss lasted longer and stole his breath.

He wanted to deepen it when suddenly something hit their faces. They broke away, both of them yelling, “Ow.”

Marcus looked down to see a flipflop lying in their laps.

“None of that you two. There are young eyes here. Now, get up and come help in the kitchen,” Came his mother’s voice, followed by two little giggles.

“Oh boy. My fear of flying shoes has returned. Never thought this would happen again,” Shade squeaked as she rubbed her face.

Marcus laughed at that before standing up, pulling her with him.

The two of them ambled into the kitchen and began to help make a late lunch. Stories were told from all of the adults, about various things. Marcus regaled them about the Heroics Missions, and his mom and Shade spoke about childhood memories and such.

The girls were far happier and chatted lively with everyone. Marcus noticed that they hardly left each other’s side while they cooked and eventually ate.

The girls decided on a movie to watch and made a picnic of sorts on the floor full of blankets and snacks. His mother tended to chores, but gave him and Shade a stern look, as they cuddled on the couch. Shade shook her head as she made herself comfortable.

“Your mother still scares me,” She whispered jokingly.

“Me too,” He joked back.

When Mrs. Moreno came back to the living room an hour later, she noted Coco was still playing but everyone was passed out. The girls had made their way to the couch and were snuggled into Marcus’s sides and Shade’s head was resting softly against his shoulder.

Mrs. Moreno took a moment to take a photo of the sweet moment, before gently pulling the girls away to sleep in the guest bedroom, one at a time. She softly ‘awwed’ when the two of them sleepily held each other.

She returned to the living room to see that Shade had woken up and was looking around confused.

“The girls are in the bedroom,” Mrs. Moreno softly told her once she spotted her.

Shade nodded, before quietly stretching.

“I hope you know… I can see he’s falling for you fast again. Do not break his heart, or Missy’s,” She pleaded.

Marcus who had woken up as soon as he felt his mother taking the girls, continued to fake sleeping, wanting to hear Shade’s response.

“I know. I’m falling back in love with him faster than I thought I would. Missy is quickly stealing my heart too. I don’t plan on hurting either of them. I want both of them in my life. I hope… I hope you know, that.. I didn’t want to hurt him when we called it off. It just… it wasn’t the right time then. We were both not ready,” Shade responded, squeezing his hand softly.

“I know. I’m glad to hear you say that. I’m sure Marcus is too, right?” His mother addressed, not being fooled by his fake sleeping.

Marcus opened his eyes, blinking rapidly.

His mother shook her head at him and walked away.

“I meant it you know. I am falling back in love with you so fast… It kinda scares me,” Shade admitted worriedly.

“Same. It’s… it’s like no time has passed almost. Like it was just yesterday you were fretting over that modern art piece you had to create for that professor who docked points if you missed a comma on papers,” Marcus responded, thinking back to their junior year.

Shade shuddered, “Don’t remind me. I still have nightmares about that class. It’s… it’s weird to think it’s been over 15 years.”

“Yeah. But. We found each other again. The circumstances… might not be the best… but. We’re here. We’re together again. Let’s make the most of it,” Marcus beamed taking her hands into his.

She smiled and rested her head against his softly, “Sounds like a plan.”

Their date did not go as planned, but something better came out of it. The girls made them realized that the two of them have been hurt far more than they realized. Healing was going to be necessary for all of them. But they were going to do it together, as their own makeshift family.

[fanfalc-616]

The Rights Of A Nindroid

Chapter Twenty-Seven

(Previous Chapter Here)

Hey guys on a scale of one to ten how much to do hate me?

I bet that number’s about to go up a few notches~

Cole can’t focus on his work.

He’s trying, he’s doing everything he can, but his brain refuses to cooperate, instead going back to one single fact.

Today is Zane’s birthday.

Or, well, ‘creation day’, as he would say in a fondly exasperated tone.

No matter how hard he tries to focus on right now, the only thing he can think about is how happy they all were together.

It’s been so long, so, so, so long, and Cole curses himself for not being able to remember all the details. The little angles of his smile, the brightness of his blue eyes, the softness of his synthetic skin when they held hands… it’s all so hazy now.

But when he closes his eyes, he can still remember how they were when they were together. How startled he had been when they realized Cole was strong enough to pick him up- and how much he laughed and half-heartedly lectured him when Cole abused that ability. How he started pranking Jay by pretending not to understand metaphors and jokes that he actually had already figured out. How he would insist on keeping their bedroom clean and organized even when Kai would absolutely trash it two days after he picked it all up.

His mind is just flooded with memories of him, images and events and feelings- Zane is the only thing he can think about.

He would always insist on pointing out how ‘illogical’ birthday wishes were, he would refuse to let anyone else make the cake- well, at least after Cole’s failed attempt at it.

Zane… he’s irreplaceable. And they- they’ve lost him before. After they fought the Golden Master, after he died. The team split up, they couldn’t even look at each other without painful memories attacking them.

Because… Lloyd leads them. Cole holds them together. Kai keeps them going towards their goal. Jay makes jokes and keeps their spirits up. Nya stops them from falling into their own self doubt.

But Zane? Zane was the one who brought life to them.

He helped Lloyd when he didn’t trust himself enough to lead. He helped Cole when he fell apart. He helped Kai when he felt he couldn’t keep going. He helped Jay when he woke up from nightmares he refused to explain. He helped Nya when she second-guessed herself.

Zane was always there, always bringing out the best in them, always protecting them from whatever tried to hurt them.

Cole can’t let this keep going. He can’t let the purest, kindest, gentlest person he knows be hurt like this.

Whatever they’re doing to him there, he can’t stand for it. He can’t fail, he can’t give in, he will do anything and everything to save him.

He loves Zane with everything he has, and Cole refuses to let them keep him from him.

Zane may not be human, but Cole wouldn’t want him any other way.

They will never take away the one he loves.

{ { { { { { { { { { ~ } } } } } } } } } }

Another wire is pulled on.

Another set of circuits is jostled.

Another panel is pushed to the side.

Zane stares blankly ahead, doing everything in his power to avoid acknowledging it. He had even turned off his artificial respiratory system- with the way his chest plate is open and inner workings are exposed, his circuits don’t need the extra cooling.

A hand pulling his power source almost out of his chest makes a strangled whimper escape the back of his throat. The pain is overwhelming, but he grits his teeth and forces it down.

Showing emotion gets it hurt. And it doesn’t want to get hurt.

After a few more moments of struggling with his own thoughts, he allows himself to listen in on what the people working on him are saying.

The one typing notes into his computer frowns in thought. “Was it- yeah, I think it was actually built today. The exact year isn’t here, but I think it’s sixty? Seventy? Somewhere around there?”

Zane feels himself tense up. He- it’s his birthday? Well, more technically, ‘creation day’, but the others had always insisted on referring to it by the more human term. They-

“Hey, Original. What year were you built?”

The direct question grabs his attention, and he takes half a moment to think back- it’s been quite a long time, given that he watched his father grow old.

“My original body was completed and activated sixty-three years ago. My current body was completed two years, one month, two weeks and six days ago,” he answers, forcing his voice to remain emotionless.

Something is aching in his chest- and it’s not because of the way his workings are being probed.

Has it really been that long? It’s been… over eight months. He’s been here for- for so long, he-

Another weak whimper is forced out of it with the manipulation of his power source, and he once again tries to muffle it.

His birthday. It had always had such good memories attached to it.

He can remember the time Cole had taken it upon himself to be the one who baked the cake. Flour, sugar, eggs- the ingredients ended up almost everywhere except for in the baking sheet. It had been extremely amusing- but in the end, Zane had decided to spare him from his repeated failed efforts and make the cake himself. His attempt was, thankfully, edible.

With that memory, he’s reminded of another- when Kai had somehow gotten it into his head that he must get Zane the best present. The hours and hours the red ninja had spent researching and trying to find what he would like the most actually did serve a use- Zane didn’t think that any copies of that book were still around, and it was very much a pleasant surprise when Kai gifted it to him.

Not to mention the first birthday they celebrated, the one after they had missed the first year due to Zane’s amnesia. Jay had decided that it needed to be perfect, with absolutely no room for error. He spent so long looking into details and small factors that really made no difference, but the pride he had showed was too endearing for Zane to be willing to point that out.

But… in the end, he honestly couldn’t care less about the food, gifts, or decorations.

What really made it special were his friends.

Zane can hear its own processor working as he tries to push the memories into the back of his mind. He- he doesn’t want to remember, it doesn’t want to think about what he used to have, he doesn’t want to acknowledge that he’s never going to have that again, he-

No, no, he needs to stop, it needs to get the thoughts out of its head, if he keeps this up he’ll likely begin to cry, and he doesn’t want to get hurt again, he’s so tired of being hurt, he-

/“Hey Frosty!” Jay had chirped as he pushed the cake towards him. “Happy Birthday!”

“Hey, hey, someone turn off the lights!” Kai waved his hand around as he tried to get someone’s attention. “I’m gonna light the candles!”

Zane’s mouth had quirked up. “I highly doubt blowing out small fires on a pastry will grant any wishes,” he pointed out for the upteenth time, well aware of the response he would get.

“C’mon, Zee, don’t be so technical about it. It’s a birthday wish!” Cole had rolled his eyes, but his annoyance was clearly playful as he flicked off the light switch.

With the candles lit, Zane had smiled as he listened to the poorly tuned singing of ‘Happy Birthday’ from his boyfriends.

When the song ended, Zane had chuckled before blowing the candles out, even though he had no wishes in mind.

He didn’t need any birthday magic- not when he had his friends beside him./

Against his will, his respiratory system is reactivated, his breathing coming in raggedly. Fighting back the urge to cry, Zane breathes out a few quiet words.

“I… I wish I could see you again.”

Once they escape, it’s like a dam had been broken. Despite his best efforts, there’s nothing he can do to stop the sobs torn from him.

The memories… he has just enough of them to torment him without comfort. He can remember their experiences, but not their faces. He can remember how he felt, but not the details of the events that caused the coded emotions.

It can hear the way he’s ordered to stop, but the voice seems so distant, almost muffled. His body refuses to follow the command, and he continues to cry, wishing with everything left inside of him for one thing, just one small, simple thing.

To see his friends.

Just one last time.

They can take him back after, if they wish, and he will return. It will allow them to take him here if he must, if only he could only talk with them once more, just to tell them one final thing.

Just to tell them goodbye.

He’s not going to last here for much longer. He knows this. And it pains him to know that he will never truly see them again. Even if they find him later, once he has truly shattered in their grasp, he… he won’t be Zane anymore. He won’t be the one they recognize. He’ll simply be a puppet, a thing for them to command and control.

And it’s not that that he’s scared of. He knows that this will be his fate. He’s already numbed to their commands and actions against him.

What hurts is knowing that he will never be theirs again. He’ll never be their teammate, their friend, their lover…

He’ll only be a shadow of the one they had loved.

He will not love them in return.

And they will have no choice but to accept that.

His chest panel is closed, and he’s roughly taken from the table, towards the training room. Even as he chokes on his own sobs, it doesn’t resist them.

And even if he can’t truly say it to them, even if they won’t ever hear it… he can tell them. He can tell them what he needs to say.

“I will love you to the very end, my friends.”

“Goodbye.”

[gotmeringinghellsbells]

Morning Preperations

This fic contains an intense amount of swearing, and is about random, fandomless ocs. Enjoy.

"Aye yo, up and Adam your royal pain!" A young guard entered the bed chamber of the prince, unannounced. He yawned and stretched as he shut one of the chamber's door's behind him with his foot.

"Brutus," a higher voice shrieked. Green eyes opened to see the prince glaring at him as he wrapped one of his large curtains around to sheild himself. "I'm in my underwear you pervert," the prince hissed. "Get the hell out!" He reached for his vanity near by and grabbed a hold of a brush.

Brutus merely rolled his eyes. "Come on Daren, your not nude. Samuel forced me to start my shift early so let's go princess! Move that scrawny ass and get ready." The personal guard sat on the unmade bed; running his fingers along the soft, purple, silky sheets. Daren growled before throwing the brush at the other.

"Ow," the larger gasped before glaring at the prince who still refused to leave the curtain. "Once you stand your post outside I will. I have a sutor coming for breakfast. Father and Samuel will have my head if I'm late." Brutus rolled his eyes. "Sorry sweetheart," he seethed sarcastically as he grabbed the brush that assaulted his head.

Daren panicked slightly as the other approached him. He was no physical match for the other. Both were lanky young men but Brutus had a few inches and a swimmers build of muscle on him. "But Samuel gave me my orders." Daren gasped as the curtain was yanked away from him, revealing his image to the other.

Black briefs clung to his curvy lower body as a white, silky, loose undershirt rested on the slight pudge of his tummy. Silk stockings were tied off at the thighs, making for an almost lovely picture of the prince. Brutus looked him over before feeling a small shove. Hardly budging he just looked at the man before him. "Stop staring at me like that! Brutus, I swea-eek!" Brutus gently pulled Daren close, brush raised over his head.

"Sit your pretty ass down and finish getting ready already. I can't leave this chamber without your royal pain in tow, get it?" Daren blushed slightly before trying to push the other off him, to no avil. Despite supposed to be having authority over his father's guard, as he was the prince, but Samuel definitely had authority over him and sometimes even his father out of respect for the old bastard. Nothing he could say to Brutus would get the boy out of his hair.

"Fine you annoying oaf! Let go so I can get dressed!" Brutus rolled his eyes before letting go and setting the brush back on the vanity. As he did, Daren strode by him quickly to his closet and just grabbed the nearest shirt before moving to grab matching pants.

Pulling on the pants quickly, he refused to face the other. His face was still red from embarrassment but the butterflies were simmering down. He may have over reacted some. He dared to glance over to see the other now lying in his unmade bed, feeling the soft materials. He always seemed to rub certain cloths between his fingers, maybe it was a calming technique. Nevertheless, Daren's dark, silky hair always ended up between his fingers too.

"How's your head," the prince finally asked, breaking the silence as he pulled up his black pants. "Little sore. How's your ego," the other sneered. "Also sore," Daren shot back woth fake annoyance. "That so? Need me to kiss it and make it better," Brutus inquired sarcastically. Daren sighed as he pulled on a loose sleeved, white shirt. "No, but I'm sorry for hitting you. Do you need to rest?"

The prince was now standing over the other, holding onto the pole of his bed frame closest to the other loosely. Brutus blushed a bit before shaking his head. "I'm trained to protect the royal brat, a lot more than a pansy throw from his highness is needed to take me down." Daren glared slightly as Brutus smirked at him with a wink. "That so?"

Brutus was laying with his legs crossed, and arms folded under his head. Wearing nothing more than casual clothing, he earned what he had coming. "Yeah, that's so." "Then you wouldn't mind your weak, defenseless, pain of a prince punishing you for wearing your boots in his bed?" Brutus was confussed as the other leaned down to his level, walking his fingers across his toned chest. "What do you mean?"

"Look down darling, your wearing your nasty work boots on my nice sheets. Agatha is going to have to wash them again." Brutus tried to sit up but the prince held his folded arms down and swing himself onto the other's pelvis. His long, black hair hung loosely, like vines coming towards the guards face. "Tsk, tsk," Daren cooed as he gently started to drag his fingers down the bared biceps. "Pff-! D-Daren!" Brutus turned his head into his arm as he tried to stop himself from giggling. Above him, the prince merely smirked.

"Oh Brutus~! Don't tell me a few tickles can bring my brave knight down. My, my, I'd surely be in danger then," Daren fake lamented as he smirked. "Yo-your gon-nna be- cckkkk! Gonna be when- when I get you!" Rolling his eyes, Daren merely giggled. "Oh, how scary. A soft faced, small man with big, loving, green eyes and such soft, feathery chocolate hair is going to rebel against his charge?"

Brutus blushed as Daren gently ruffled his hair with a giggle. It tickled a bit, but the laugh was more for his friend's reaction. "Tell me Brutus, are your underarms ticklish? The royal court needs to know all your weaknesses. We can't have the prince falling into danger, now can we?" Brutus bit his lip as fingers gently moved further down his biceps, under the short sleeves of his shirt. "B-Bhahahitch!" He cracked! Score one for the Lee!

"Bruuutuusss," Daren teased out, giving the poor boy no peace. "Brutus, does this tickle? Does it ticcckllee~!" The guard felt himself slipping as more fingers joined. "I-hahahah! I'll gheheet you fhahaor this!" Daren only smiled softly. "Aw, promising harm to your beloved prince?" "I dhahaon't hahaha a beloved phaharince! Jhahahaust yhahaou!" Daren scoffed before ramping up the torment. "Ass hole." "Fheheheling is mu- ah shit! Ghahaha!" Brutus was breaking down now, showing his ticklish side.

Daren giggled. He quickly started to pick up the pace, squeezing, scratching, and poking random areas he could easily get to while moving to keep Brutus' arms down whenever he saw them move. Brutus should be proud! After all, he's where Daren learned such moves.

Brutus however, wasn't impressed as he wheezed with heavy laughter and shook about. He whined and snorted while he trashed his legs; catching glimpses of the boots he was being "punished" for. He was dying of laughter, trashing about as his prince continued to torment him. He had to figure a way out of this. No way was this little shit going to tickle him then walk off to meet a potential fiancee like nothing ever happened!

Wait.... that's it!

"Yhahahaou nehehed to gehehehet ghahahoing soon!" Daren eased up the tickles, not understanding what the other said. "What," he asked before gasping as hands over powered him and rolled him over. Brutus was now laying on the other, holding the prince's arms down by their wrists and glaring daggers as he panted.

Daren wiggled, testing his movement as he started to blush. Butterflies started to form in his stomach once more and his knees moved slightly together. "W... what did you say," Daren asked sheepishly. Brutus' scowling face became a smirk. "That I ain't letting you leave until I get some revenge." Daren squeaked, face turning darker. "You.... you'll wrinkle my shirt. You can't. I'll tell Samuel it was you," Daren weakly threatened.

"Then, I'll just have to fix that, huh?" What? Daren gasped as he felt cold hand slip into the hem of his pants to unstuck his shirt; the cold feeling spreading as skin made contact with the skin of his stomach. "Brutus! You brute! Unhand me!" Gently, fake hitting the other with his free hand, Daren tried to sound as annoyed as possible but the other ignore it.

Rather, he saw through the facade. Daren was compliant on the shirt removal but quickly squealed as he noticed his undershirt had gone too. Milky, smooth skin was revealed to the earth; a rare sight from the prince. Almost as pale as a vampire, yet skin as soft as a baby. The elements truly never touched the royal pain.

Brutus merely smirked. He knew the other was deathly ticklish. Just a few strokes to his soles, a squeeze or two to his thighs, or a few pokes at his underarms would have him spilling any information asked for if the prince was ever captured. Moving the shy arms away from the torso and pinning them overhead with ease, Brutus smiled softly. "I just laughed like a dork infront of you and your embarrassed about me seeing your body? At least you don't sound like a damn horse when you laugh." Daren blushed more as he wiggled awkwardly. "You don't though. You sound.... kinda cute when you laugh. A little dorky too. It's nice to hear when it's not directed at... making fun of me."

Brutus felt his face heat up a bit before he quickly shook his head. "Ah, nope. No sweet talking your way out of this your highness. Your being sentenced to tickle punishment and that's that." Daren growled a bit. "Bastard, I wasn't trying to get out of anything! Don't just brush me aside like that!" He paused when he realized Brutus was blushing and cracked a smile. "Oh, your faking it," he said softly. Brutus only blushed more before gently poking under the royal's arm; earning a squeal.

"Nope, I will not be tricked by such a fair prince." Daren giggled before squealing as the poked turned to gentle scratches. "Not there," he cried as he devolved into hysterical laughter. "Not the armpit! Not the armpit! Ahahaha! Brutus!" Daren was shrieking soon as fingers moved behind him to his thighs. He was weakened enough for Brutus to let go of his arms. "Not the armpits? Okay."

The prince screamed in hysterically laughter, flopping around like a fish out of water. "A-Ahhahaha! Noooo! Brutus! Release me at once! B-Brutus!" It tickled something awful. The prince was red from laughter and flustered from being teased and touched so delicately. From the fact this oaf was his best friend and was just hitting all his worst spots to make him laugh. It was sweet.

The prince gripped at the silk pillow covers as he whined and laughed adorably, wiggling in the other's hold and trying to bite his lip to resist the sensation. Not wanting his friend to be set before the kings of two kingdoms and a possible match with a swollen lip along with being covered in tears and sweat, Brutus ended his torment.

Daren released his lip and the pillow cover as he panted softly. "Oh.... oh man," Daren sighed out rather un-regally. "B-Brutus..... that..... ahh," he sighed out softly. The other laughed before vibrating his hand on the other's tummy. Daren squealed before curling up to protect himself. "Brutus, stop it," he giggled. The other did so before laughing himself.

Cute.

He sighed before redressing the tired body's torso. As he tucked the blouse into the pants, he felt a gentle touch on his hand. Watery red eyes stared at the other woth a soft smile. The other returned the favor before gently climbing off his highness. Helping Daren sit up, he took the brush and quickly started to brush out the tangles the onslaught caused and tied it loosely before looking at the door.

"You need to get going," Brutus sighed. Daren sighed. "He's been trying to find a suitable match for me for three years now, I doubt this breakfast will be any different." He gently tapped the other's cheek. "Escort me down, would you?" Brutus smiled a bit before gently intertwining fingers with the prince. "As you wish." Daren merely rolled his eyes before they headed out the door.

[echoes-of-the-clockwork]

Book One: Gold (Prompto x Reader) Chapter XXIX

After leaving the room and making their way back toward the central area of this level of Zegnautus Keep, a strange sound could be heard. Ignis stopped the group when he recognized the sound. Looking in Noctis' general direction, he asked, "Noct, do you hear that?"

The raven-haired boy glanced at his advisor in bewilderment. "Hear what?"

"I've heard this sound before—on the train, just before your weapons failed you. It's nearby, and it may hold the key to restoring your power."

As the four of them make their way across the catwalk leading to the central area of this level of Zegnautus Keep, the strategist stopped them again. "It's here."

Noctis stops at the large closed metal doors in the center of the enormous room. "This thing?" He places his hand against the doors and tries to open them. When they don't budge, he huffed out a groan. "Door's locked."

"It's coming from within. Is there no way through?"

Prompto swallowed hard before speaking up when he saw a familiar control panel by the door. "There's a way." The others look at him as he hesitantly steps up to the door's scanner and raises the back of his right wrist to it. He pulls the gemstone bracelet down a little ways so the scanner could read the barcode on his wrist. Successfully scanning it, the doors slide open. Prompto resumes speaking, staring off into the room, unable to make eye contact with the others. "So, MTs... They've got those codeprints...just like I do."

Noctis wasn't fazed at the new discovery. "Do they? Never looked."

"Yeah... So, as it turns out...I'm one of them. Not exactly something I could tell people growing up in Lucis. (Y/n) was the only one who knew the truth. At the time, she didn't tell me and I don't blame her. She had her own secret to hide, too." Tears stung his eyes and threatened to fall, but he refused to let a single one slide down his cheeks. "Still... You guys and (Y/n) are like...the only friends I've ever known. I just hope that things can stay the way they were."

"Whatever. Who cares where you were born?" Noctis remarked.

"I don't see you turning against us. Not now, or ever," Ignis added.

Prompto was able to lift his head and look at his companions. "Thanks, guys. Still...I can't change where I came from. What I am."

"Since when does where you come from matter to you? You never once treated me as a prince," the raven-haired boy stated. He then playfully punches Prompto's shoulder.

"He's got you there," Gladio said.

"Never so much as a "Highness"," the tactician added.

"And by the sounds of it, (Y/n) doesn't care either," Noctis spoke up again. "We're done here. C'mon, crown citizen."

Gladio steps over to Ignis to help guide him into the room. The shield gives Prompto's shoulder a friendly smack as they walk past. "You're one of us, right?"

Ignis stops and turns back towards the marksman, looking over his shoulder. "Unless you'd rather not be."

Prompto smiles with a nod. He glanced down at the gemstone bracelet, a single tear of joy slipping from his eye. "You were right, (Y/n)..." He covered it with his hand. Following his friends into the room, his heart was somewhat at ease.

Inside the room, they find the emperor's abandoned clothing laying upon the throne with no sign of the man. What was also located in the room was a large bank of computers, which are the cause of Noctis' lost powers. Without hesitating, the raven-haired boy rams his father's sword through the machines.

Prompto looked around in puzzlement. "So...did it work?"

"With the device down and out, Noct's power should be up and running," Ignis stated.

"Go on, try it," Gladio said, meeting the prince's gaze.

"All right. Moment of truth." Noctis holds out his hand and conjures a sword, resulting in Prompto to clap in celebration.

The shield smirked. "We're back, baby."

"Let's roll. We've still got to find (Y/n) and the Crystal."

Leaving the emperor's throne room, the boys were attacked by the gargantua daemon that caused trouble for Noctis earlier. The large daemon wasn't alone as more of its fellow daemons began manifesting. "Not you again," Noctis groaned.

"New friend?" Prompto questioned teasingly, summoning his pistol.

"You really need to pick 'em better," Gladio commented with a faint chuckle, readying his greatsword. Even Ignis summoned his daggers.

Leaping into the fray, the group took out the weaker daemons before targeting the gargantua. Before any of them could attack, the large daemon was set ablaze by bright flames. They stared at the burning adversary as it stumbled backwards, swinging its body around in an attempt to extinguish the flames. The sound of a blade slashing at its metallic skin caught their attention.

The gargantua daemon collapses to the floor, dead. Its body slowly dissipated into nothingness, revealing the person who slew it. "You guys were difficult to find," (Y/n) sighed, lowering the Creator's Blade. She combed a few (h/c) strands out of her face.

Gladio was the first to speak up. "We could say the same thing, short stuff. You and blondie had us worried."

"Are you well?" Ignis asked.

"I'm exhausted," she confessed. "But overall, I'm fine."

Noctis noticed the dried blood on her skin and clothes. "What happened to you?"

"A lot I'd rather not share at the moment." Her eyes drifted over to Prompto when realizing he hadn't said a word yet. "The only time I've seen you this quiet was when I surprised you for your birthday five years ago."

At her words, Prompto snapped. He ran over to her and hugged her tightly. It was a brief hug, but a sweet one. He pulled away, examining her arms and legs. "Y-You're not hurt?"

"There are some perks of being possessed by a god," she snickered. "One of them involves healing. I do need a break, though. Still a little weak from blood loss."

"Didn't we pass a dormitory somewhere?" Noctis asked his friends.

"Indeed, we did," Ignis replied. "We should gather our bearings and recuperate for a short while."

"Then to the dormitory we go."

The group left the large central chamber and walked through the hallways of Zegnautus Keep until arriving at their destination. Once inside the dorm, (Y/n) sat down on one of the beds with a huff. Prompto sat next to her while Noctis sat down on the bed across the way. Gladio stood beside the bed the couple was on while Ignis occupied a chair sat between the two beds.

(Y/n) crosses her legs, clasping her hands together in her lap. "It seems Prompto told you the truth."

"How'd you figure that out?" Noctis inquired.

"You were able to enter the emperor's throne room," she replied. "Does this mean...?"

Prompto places his hands over her clasped ones. "Everything's okay, (Y/n). You were right. The guys don't care."

"Then I guess it's my turn."

"You hiding something too, short stuff?" Gladio asked.

"Yeah." She turned her head and brushed aside her (h/c) locks once Prompto released her hands. She tugged down the collar of her outfit to reveal her own barcode. "My true master was Verstael Besithia. I'm an imitation created by his own hands after he killed his guardian after learning she was going to betray him."

"Hey, we welcome anyone who's willing to betray the empire," Noctis said. "Besides, you kicked plenty of imperial ass with us. I doubt you wanna go back."

"Hell no," she spat. "Even if I really wanted to, the only one that somewhat cared for me is dead. Hated him to the core."

"I still don't completely understand how you're still here. We killed the chief and by guardian law, you should be dead." That was when Prompto realized how his words sounded and quickly tried to recover. "I-It's not that I'm sad you're not gone! No way would I think that! I just wanna understand what happened."

"I'm a copy, not the real (Y/n). Verstael may have believed he brought her back from the dead, but in reality, he didn't. A clone is a clone, not the original. When I was created, I wasn't bound to a soul. That would explain why I'm still here."

Prompto glanced down at his bracelet. "But the gemstone..."

"Is artificial," she stated. "It's another device Verstael needed in order for his experiment to be deemed a success. Let's just say the man was thorough when it came to his experiments. He was quite meticulous with even the smallest details."

"I think I understand." Prompto flopped down on the mattress. "But there's another thing I don't understand."

(Y/n) cocked a brow. "And what's that?"

"How did someone like him make you?"

She blinked owlishly. "I...wasn't expecting that."

Noctis and Gladio smirked. Ignis tried to hide his own grin by lowering his head slightly. The shield crossed his arms with a guffaw. "Damn, string bean. You'd normally be embarrassed, but you're pretty level-headed for something like that to come out of your mouth."

Prompto shot back up into a sitting position. "Hey, I'm only speaking the truth! I met the guy and he had more than a few screws loose."

"He wasn't always like that, Prom," she said.

"But still..."

(Y/n) clapped her hands together. "Okay, I think that's enough for a while. Let's get some rest."

"Yeah, you're right," the marksman sighed. He then encased the girl in his arms, earning a gasp of shock from her as he laid down on the bed. "Hope you guys don't mind, but (Y/n) and I are gonna share a bed."

"What a gentleman," Gladio chuckled. "Just try to keep it in your pants, loverboy."

Prompto groaned, burying his face in the guardian's (h/c) hair at his comment. He held her closer when hearing her giggle. He moved one of his hands to her tresses and combed his fingers through them. He continued his ministrations until the sound of soft snoring came from her. Feeling her breathing had gone deep and slow, he knew she was asleep. He himself couldn't fall asleep, but he was happy she could after all she's been through in the past three days.

A few minutes ticked by when Prompto saw Noctis sit up on the opposite bed. He watched his best friend closely as he made his way over to him and (Y/n). The sharpshooter carefully unwound his arms from around the girl and sat up.

"Hey, I'm...sorry," Noctis muttered.

"For what?" Prompto questioned.

"For falling right into his trap...and for hurting you and (Y/n) like that."

The marksman takes up a wry tone. "I know, right? How could you possibly do such a horrible thing to us—after everything we've been through?!" His tone then returns to normal. "Nah, it's okay. I know (Y/n) would forgive you, too. You're not the only one who fell for it."

"Once this is all over, I say we break down the borders—come together as one nation," Noctis said, crossing his arms and trying to act nonchalant. "I mean, what does it matter where you're from anyway?"

Prompto climbs off the bed, stands, and turns to look at his best friend. "Y'know, I never thought I'd say this, but you sounded like a real king for a second."

The raven-haired boy was surprised by the comment and watched a grin make its way onto the blonde's face. "Better late than never. I'm gonna make this world a better place." He glances down at the sleeping girl for a second before looking back up at Prompto. "You two with me?"

"What kinda question is that?" Both boys looked down when hearing (Y/n)'s voice. They saw her eyes were open and she was watching them. "Of course we are."

Prompto smiled, nodding in agreement. "Uh-huh. Ever at your side."

"Now you two be quiet," mumbled the guardian, closing her eyes. "I'm tired..."

Noctis smiled. "Yeah, sorry 'bout that, (Y/n)."

She reached out and grabbed Prompto's wrist, tugging on it gently. "You coming back to bed or not?"

The marksman smiled in delight before rejoining her in the small bed. Within minutes, they were both asleep.

<—————————————<<<<<

After a couple of hours, everyone was well-rested and ready to go. They left the dormitory and continued their search for the Crystal. They continued wandering the various corridors and rooms of Zegnautus Keep, using the elevators to reach different levels.

It was two hours into their search the group was attacked by a creature known as the foras daemon. It stretched its elongated limbs, eyes focused on Noctis. What caught the group by surprise was hearing the creature could speak. It immediately attacked, focusing its full attention on the prince.

Fighting against the foras daemon, they were able to stand their ground and kill it within minutes. After listening to the daemon's last words before it vanished, Ignis tossed around a couple of potions for Prompto and Noctis. Both boys had been injured by the creature, but the curatives mended their wounds within seconds.

Eventually, they arrived in a large hangar-like room. As they made their way through, Gladio said, "One helluva hangar."

"Look at all this space," Prompto gasped in awe at the size of the hangar.

"So, the central elevator's through here," Noctis commented.

"And out of the loading bay," the shield added.

It wasn't long before the large doors at the other end of the hangar begin opening. From the loudspeaker, they heard Ardyn's voice. "Your Majesty, your precious Crystal awaits you. To liven things up I thought I'd take you on a stroll down memory lane. Of course, memories decay with time."

From the now open doors, Ravus' body enters the hangar. Unlike the last time they saw him, his body was now grotesque and daemonic, transformed into a monster. "Kill me... End it..." He begged, his voice slightly warped.

Gladio glared at the approaching figure. "Is that Ravus?"

"Or what's left of him..." Prompto murmured.

"Dammit..." Noctis cursed, summoning his sword.

"The least we can do is put him out of his misery," (Y/n) said.

Before they could even attack Ravus, the horrifying creature known as the devourer crawled into the hangar.

"Shit, that thing's here too?" The prince hissed.

"What is it doing?" The girl grumbled, watching the horrifying creature as it stalked towards the high commander instead of them. What happened next mortified the group.

The devourer grabbed Ravus, tossing him into the mouth of the middle head. Its skeletal jaw bit down into his body, causing him to holler out in pain. Black blood shot from his body as the creature continued to chew on him. The gruesome sight was revolting and forced the others to look away. As they did, Ardyn's voice rang out from the loudspeakers again. "Oh, my. It seems Callyx has yet to feed his pet. Now it seeks to ward off its hunger. Do be careful for it's quite a gruesome way to go."

Once the devourer finished consuming Ravus, each of its mouths opened and roared. Gladio scowled at the creature. "A sorry end for the high commander—for anyone. He was a man with hopes and dreams."

Prompto covered his mouth after finally being able to look back at the monstrosity. "It's horrible."

Suddenly, the devourer hauled its body in their direction. The group readied their weapons and were  prepared to attack as the large creature made its way towards them.

Raising her hand, (Y/n) conjured multiple fireballs. They loomed in the air around her until they shot forward with a single swipe of her hand. Each one slammed into the creature's body and forced it back a few feet. Noctis performed a warp-strike against one of the three heads, dealing a little damage. Prompto kept his distance and fired his pistol while Ignis carefully debated on what he should do. Gladio followed Noctis into battle, swinging his greatsword at one of its arms.

The devourer lashed out. Its tentacles stretched outward and tried to grab one of them. It managed to grab Noctis when he performed another warp-strike. Prompto shouted the boy's name and quickly fired at the tendril restraining him. He was able to free Noctis, who warped to safety before crashing against the floor.

Ignis ignited his daggers, tossing a single one towards the monster. The sharp tip embedded itself into the black sack, the flames igniting it. The devourer screeched out and reared up on its two hind legs before flopping down on the floor. Its tentacles laid limp.

Noctis, Gladio, and (Y/n) ran towards the downed monster and struck it over and over again to deal some heavy damage. They were able to deplete some of its health, but it was still strong and quickly recovered. Back on its feet, it crawled its way over to Ignis. The tactician could sense its approach and kept his distance. Noctis and Prompto kept the tentacles from grabbing the bespectacled man as he swiped his daggers at the creature.

Suddenly, their battle was interrupted when more daemons began pouring into the hangar. Gladio glared at the approaching horde. "Look alive—company!"

Their hands were already full with the devourer and couldn't possibly stand against all the daemons. The group tried to fight the devourer and horde of daemons, but it was proven to be tough. When they thought they'd made a small dent in the enemies' number, more took their place.

"We're getting nowhere!" The shield bellowed, dodging one of the devourer's attacks.

Prompto shot a daemon out of midair. "And they just keep coming!"

"Noct, you must go alone," Ignis said.

The prince froze. "What?"

"If you can obtain the Crystal's power, we may yet turn the tide. Elsewise, we are all likely to perish here."

Gladio gripped his greatsword tighter. "Iggy's right. It's our only chance."

"But what about you?" Noctis asked, blocking a single daemon's attack.

"We'll manage somehow! Just get moving!" Prompto shouted.

Ardyn broadcasts his voice to the raven-haired boy. "You could still get to the Crystal...if you went on your own. Your friends will have to stay behind."

"Noctis!" (Y/n) shouted as she formed a wall of fire around her and the others to protect them for a short while. The prince looked towards her, which she then continued. "How about some divine intervention?"

He smiled faintly. "Go for it, (Y/n)." Then, Noctis took off in the direction of the central elevator.

She smiled back before jamming the sword into the floor and summoning Brahma. A radiant cosmic glyph appeared beneath her and was soon engulfed by a column of light. At her call, the god of creation used her body and manifested in the middle of the daemon horde. He tore the roof off the hangar and fought against the enemies.

Prompto, Ignis, and Gladio focus their attacks on the weaker daemons while Brahma fought against the devourer. Unlike in Altissia, the Astral was able to focus his entire attention on the artificial daemon. He trusted the others to deal with the lesser enemies and focused all his strength on the creature. Using his cosmic powers, he was able to fell the devourer. Its shrieks of death echoed throughout the hangar as its body toppled over, gradually vanishing into thin air.

Turning his gaze to the remaining daemons, Brahma released a powerful cosmic wave that killed them all. The three boys were taken aback at the powerful magic and had to brace themselves. When they looked around, no daemons remained. Looking towards the god, they saw he was gazing at the darkened sky.

When Brahma turned his gaze down and focused his attention on Prompto, he slowly kneeled and spoke to him.

Bonded by heart, thy vessel must be protected until the True King returns unto this star.

Prompto's eyes widen when he could hear the god's voice. "Wh-What...?"

Brahma places his large hand over his chest, removing the guardian from his body. He lowered his hand and held her out to the boy.

A slumber shall befall my vessel. Only you are able to safeguard her until the time of her awakening arrives.

Prompto pulled (Y/n)'s unconscious form out of the god's hand and held her close. "Wait, I don't—" Looking back up, he saw the Astral was gone. His eyes scanned the hangar until his gaze fell back onto the girl in his arms. "(Y/n)?" He tried shaking her awake, but it was useless.

Hearing Gladio shouting his name and telling him to hurry, Prompto hoisted the girl up into his arms before following his friends to the central elevator. His body was on autopilot while his mind kept repeating Brahma's words. He was trying to figure out what the god meant.

Stepping off the lift, the trio made their way to where the Crystal was located inside Zegnautus Keep. When they arrived, they couldn't find Noctis anywhere. However, they did see Ardyn standing in front of the Crystal. The chancellor turns to them then gestures nonchalantly at the Crystal before beginning to walk away. Gladio swings his greatsword through Ardyn's head, releasing a puff of dark smoke from where the blade strikes.

Ardyn falls back a little, but maintains his balance and holds onto his hat to keep it from falling off his head. He then continues walking away. Prompto was the next to try and attack the man. He kneels down, releasing (Y/n) and letting her body lean against his in order to summon his pistol. He shoots Ardyn in the back before he can take more than a couple of steps, releasing another puff of dark smoke and hurling his body onto the floor.

The chancellor's hat rolls away and lays still for several seconds before his hand suddenly reaches down to collect it and place it back on his head. Once more unharmed, Ardyn is again standing. The twisted man smiles at Ignis, revealing corrupted daemonic features as he does so, but they go unnoticed by the advisor due to his blindness. Ardyn walks away, leaving the group behind to mourn the loss of their King.

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter || Masterlist

[orsuliya]

I am so obsessed with TRP now and I am so happy u love to talk about it. I have heard the hate for Awu after 30+eps and I think the writers really kick themselves when they had Awu said that Xiao Qi doesnt know family bond or something. That and the dance she did with Helan Zhen should have not been done. So many better directions or script they could have done cause these 2 really was out of Awu's character regardless of familial help that Awu wants to do.

Oh dear, I hope that you will still be happy about my wild rambling after I tell you that I have to respectfully disagree. What Awu said was very much Not Good, there is no doubt as to that! But I wouldn’t say it was out of character or that it shouldn’t have been written this way in the first place. In my humble opinion her behaviour makes a disturbing amount of sense. To be honest, I may have thought otherwise once upon a time; since then, though, I have revised many of my previous beliefs.

The first of which is that Awu is trying to save Screecher because of strong family loyalty. Yeah, no. If it was that, she would have tried to help, sure, but going to bat like that? Something else is going on here. And that something else is Awu getting triggered by Mrs. Screechers pleading. Hello, Jinruo-related trauma! What’s more, it truly looks like she knows the underlying cause of her unusual determination. Perhaps she’s not quite ready to face it, perhaps she’s ashamed, but she knows, I can tell you that.

What the hell am I talking about? Well, take a look at what happens just before Awu fires that nuke. She stops, looks aside, takes a moment to think, hesitates and then - and only then - does she speak The Words. I daresay she looks abashed even before she opens her mouth. Which doesn’t make any sense... if this was ever supposed to be a vicious volley fired in rightful indignation over Xiao Qi’s dismissal of Awu’s familial duty.

My best theory? It’s a calculated shot designed to keep Xiao Qi away from Awu’s business. She’s going to get rid of this pesky feeling of grief and guilt that Mrs. Screecher managed to inadvertently instill in her or she’s going to die trying. She only needs to make Xiao Qi let her do as she pleases for one more day. So she makes him. By episode 42 it’s very obvious what his weak points are and family is absolutely one of them. He’s made concessions before for Daddy Wang, right? He would never have gotten between Awu and her father, but Screecher is a different matter altogether. Awu’s case is weak and she knows is... so she decides to back it up with emotional baggage. And guess what, it works! Awu's later exaggerated anger over being followed - or not, as is the case - works well within this theory. She knows what she did was wrong and she also knows she did it very deliberately... so she clings to this pretense that there was at least some moral justification behind her actions. It’s much, much easier that facing her guilt!

Oh dear, that makes Awu look awful, ouch! But human and not out of character, not really. Anyway, I don’t have much proof, it’s just a hunch. So let’s pretend I never put it forward in the first place. The thing is that the more popular version - Awu firing a nuke in a knife fight out of misplaced pride - is even more in character.

I can’t help but remember the great tree-cutting debacle... Well-bred unattached young ladies of age do not usually climb over garden walls in order to join public festivities while accompanied only by their - unsanctioned! - swain. That’s just not done. And if they do then they at least act repentant when caught. See, such undisciplined young ladies usually get punished. But not Awu! No, Awu gets a short lecture from an authority figure who not only doesn’t stop her from acting out and storming away in a huff, but is sincerely amused by it. And it’s something of a trend with our Awu. Speaking out of turn and refusing to tow the family line at her own coming-of-age ceremony? Not even a slap on the wrist! She then proceeds to arrange her own marriage, completely side-stepping her own father... and she only gets what, fifty switches on the hand? Which is no serious punishment, judging from her reaction.

Let’s face it, Awu is the most spoiled young lady in the capital. She’s also absolutely used to getting her way, just try to stop her! During her marriage she grew and changed, but she didn’t suddenly become a wholly new person. It’s understandable that she would act up over not being allowed to do something! I would be surprised if she did not! It’s a hurdle they had to cross at some point.

Or perhaps it was really familial duty and nothing else that caused her to say that awful thing. Even then it wouldn’t be totally out of the blue. Because where the hell would Awu learn to conduct fights in a reasonable manner? We know Jinruo deliberately never went against anything her husband said or did with only a few notable exceptions to this rule. Auntie never heard of proportional response in her entire life. Daddy Wang says truly awful things to Turnip as a matter of course and Turnip is never bothered for long. And something tells me that Granny Empress was one cruel imperious biddy who avenged any insult hundredfold, ahem, Concubine Han.

Take your pick! Every version is awful in its own way, but OOC? Not really.

[darlingpetao3]

One of Those Faces (H.R. Wells x Reader x Harry Wells, Part 2)

Rating: G

Summary: As a barista at Jitters, an accident leads you to meet the charming and energetic H.R. But some time later, he returns as a massive standoffish grump. It’s as if he’s two different people…

A/N: Here is the second part to @hwells-ho-train​ & my collaboration we started a while back! I wonder what will happen next...

Tag List: @fandomdancer @bluesclues-1234 @pinkdiamond1016​ 

PART 1

It’s been a week since your first run in with the mercurial HR Wells and you’re no closer to figuring him out than you were before. For example, not two hours after he popped by before you opened, HR dropped by again. Only this time, the grim demeanor was nowhere to be found, just his bright, toothy grin that greeted you like so much sunshine. Feeling a little skittish after your earlier encounter, you didn’t immediately acknowledge him.

Leaning against your counter, he doffed his hat like a real gentleman, his smile fixed firmly in place.

“Has anyone seen (Y/N), fairest barista in all of Central City, possibly the world?” 

He made a production of looking around, scanning for you and you couldn’t stop the shy smile at his antics.

“Has a beautiful smile,” he cooed. “I’ve come to inquire after her hand.”

You can feel the heat blooming across your face, so you attempt to play it off. “I’m afraid, good sir, that you’ll have to speak with my father if you wish to ask for my hand.” 

Judging by the look of surprise and delight he’s gifting you right now, your playfulness has definitely paid off.

HR claps. “Touché, milady, touché! I’m happy to see your little mochaccino mishap hasn’t left you with any lasting scars.” His bright look melts into something a bit… warmer, as he reaches forward to take your hand in his. “While marriage might not be on the table yet, mayhap dinner and a stroll through the park tomorrow night?”

Though his words are bold, hope is clearly shining in his eyes and you’re left wondering if he really believes there’s a chance you might not say yes.

“I get off at eight.” You strive for casual nonchalance, but the warmth from his massive hand holding yours makes you feel a bit giddy.

“That sounds promising.” HR’s brows give a suggestive wiggle and he winks at you.

Your breathy giggle escapes before you know it, making you feel like the worst kind of ditz, but HR gives your hand a reassuring squeeze and promises to meet you at nine.

——————

“Ugh!” You twist left and right, popping your tired back. “What a day.”

Rene, the night-shift manager had called off, leaving you to stay and take the shift yourself. Normally, this would’ve been super irritating, but since Rene had offered to cover your closing shift tomorrow, freeing you up for your date with HR, you weren’t too upset about it. So with that happy thought in mind, you finished closing up shop.

You’d grabbed your jacket and purse and headed towards the door to leave when a shadow outside startled you. It was HR! Grinning at your favorite customer, you unlocked the door. You noted that he was once again bundled up in a black jacket and baseball cap, shoulders hunched and blue eyes darting around furtively.

“Hey, you, back again? Couldn’t wait til tomorrow night?”

He squints at you. “Eh, I was just hoping for a coffee, but you’re closed, I’ll go.”

“No, wait!” 

The questions raced through your brain, but you pushed them aside because HR was looking at you expectantly. “A simple coffee is really no trouble.” You held the door open for him, and for a split second, you thought he was going to take you up on your offer.

“Never mind, I really shouldn’t be having caffeine this late anyway.”

And with that, he turned back the way he came and marched off down the sidewalk.

The mental whiplash with this man is real.

Could he be worth it...?

——————

The next day, the day of your date with HR, another weird encounter with a grumpy version of the man leaves you even more mystified. With hopes of trying to perk him up, you bring up your impending date and how much you’re looking forward to it.

“Can you stop pretending as if you know me and just take my order?” he barks at you, looking like he’s just as lost as you. Okay. You are officially thrown off and thinking maybe you’ve agreed to a date with a lunatic. Is the man vitamin deficient?

Whatever. You don’t need this.

You think that maybe you’ll have to make an excuse to break off your date with him. With the way he’s been acting lately, especially with what had happened, he probably wouldn’t even care all that much.

But wouldn’t you know it, a few hours later, HR now in a completely different outfit and hat, returns. How much coffee does this guy need?

“May I please have your most delectable Brazilian Roast?” he asks you at the counter with a charming tip of his hat. You won’t fool me this time, Mister. 

“Yeah, coming up,” you say in the most aloof response you’ve probably ever uttered. At this, HR is clearly totally bewildered. Not so nice when the shoe is on the other foot, is it? 

“I can’t wait for our lovely evening promenade, tonight,” he offers, as a form of trying to keep the conversation alive. You know the feeling all too well, especially recently.

“About that… I think I have to cancel.”

“Why on this beautiful Earth do you think such a thing?”

“Honestly? I’m not so keen when a guy snaps at me mere hours ago about being a stranger to him and to ‘just take his order.’”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, who would say such a thing to the kindest barista I’ve met in my lifetime? Shall I track him down?”

You stare at HR, dumbfounded.

“It was you, HR. Don’t tell me you don’t remember? Do you have a Jekyll and Hyde thing going on? Or an evil twin?”

And then his widen in what you’re assuming is understanding.

“Holy sassafras!” he shouts, causing several heads to turn in his direction. He points at you. “Don’t go anywhere. I suppose you wouldn’t since you’re working, but still! I promise I will explain everything. I’ll be right back, fairest (Y/N)!”

But by the time HR returns, things have started to die down after the three o’clock rush. You have conveniently taken your break when he strides in with whomever he has in his tight grasp. This stranger is loud and adamantly refusing to come inside.

Wait, why does that voice sound so familiar…?

HR shoves his prisoner towards you. The man in all black stumbles forward. It’s only when he stands up straight, and adjusts his black cap that you recognize his face. It’s… HR’s face?

“(Y/N), meet Harry. Harry, (Y/N).”

This Harry man frowns at you.

And you cross your arms.

The showdown begins.

[opheliasbrokenmind]

stranger - luca changretta

hi everyone! apparently i’m not allowed to go out and this means i’ll try to write as much as i can. requests are always open. this is my first luca fic and i’m sooo excited, please let me know how you found it after reading. i love you, take care of yourselves xx

‘Alfie, thirty minutes is over. You can open your eyes now.’ You slowly walked to the place you left the man a while ago and your hand reached to the gun you were hiding under your coat when you noticed the group of men in your direction. You heard him saying something to the man he was talking to and waited for you to come near him before continuing to talk. ‘Yeah, dove, right. Let us finish this, will ya?’ You stayed silent and listened to them, Alfie probably knew you figured out what was happening.

You also noticed the man hadn’t look at you since you appeared so you studied his face. With that perfect suit and beautiful eyes, he seemed assertive but somehow, you thought he was also sad. His tattoos were remarkable, of course. Alfie turned his back to grab a bottle of rum and you felt the Italian’s eyes on you, you barely smiled at that.

‘I tell you what, right. Here’s a gift, it’s free. Souvenir of your visit here. Goodbye, trot on. Down there is Bonnie Street.’

The Italian opened the bottle and smelled it, ‘You know they say you’re a smart guy. You already know what we want before we say it. That’s funny ‘cause now I believe I know what you want even before you say it. Yeah.’ He chuckled and walked to Alfie, you watched them carefully.

‘So, are you gonna taste it?’ Alfie asked calmly, his patience running out. He took out the toothpick and smiled, you thought it was a crooked one. ‘I think this clown wants us to run his rum into New York.’ He said in Italian and you kept your face stern, not letting them you understood him. You threw a look to Alfie, he had the same expression. ‘Damn fucking straight, mate. Otherwise, you wouldn’t still be breathing my oxygen, would ya? Because I have 200 barrels a month. Yeah, cleared by your people, distributed through your teams...’

‘Thing is that people want gin these days.’ He cut him off and Alfie turned to you, ‘Is that true, love?’ You looked like you saw them for the first time today, ‘Well, maybe it could be but... If you ask me, alcohol will be sold anyway.’ Alfie cracked a smile, ‘You drink something other than wine?’ You rolled your eyes playfully, ‘Tommy’s gin isn’t that bad, actually and your rum... I’d drink it too, only if you wanted me to.’

‘Bad, bad liar.’ Alfie said and sighed, ‘Well, the exit is still out there. Right on Bonnie Street, yeah?’ He pointed out the way and the Italian chuckled, ‘Oh, you fucking crazy, you know that?’ Alfie sat back to his chair again, staring at him.

‘Two hundred barrels, huh?’ Then he said something in Italian to the man on his left. The next minutes passed with Alfie explaining the bill to him and you held your laugh when he called him a cunt. You were almost surprised when he agreed with the deal but Alfie was faster than you.

‘Eh, you just made a deal without a negotiation, didn’t you? Yeah, Tommy Shelby was right about you, wasn’t he? You plan to kill us all.’ He said the last sentence in Yiddish and you caught the change in Luca’s face, he wasn’t expecting this. ‘Are we done yet, Mr Solomons?’ He asked and you knew the meeting was over, ‘You know the exit, right.’

The Italian stared at you and then turned his eyes to Alfie, ‘A real beauty, you have.’ He said in Italian and you simply nodded when his eyes were back on you. ‘Grazie, signor Changretta.’ Alfie and you could sense the second wave of shock so you just let the man leave with his questions wondering in his mind.

Luca would expect everything from Alfie but how could you know Italian? More important than that, who were you? Not only you were on Alfie’s side the whole time but you also mentioned the Shelby. Whatever it takes, he thought. I’ll find who you are, darling.

On the other hand, Alfie looked at you under his eyelids, ‘What was that, love?’ You sighed softly and gave him your hand, he got up from the chair quickly. ‘You know, I’m not sure. I just wanted to see him surprised.’ He snorted, ‘Did that fucking Italian impress you? Is that what you mean?’  

The two of you went outside and walked to a cafe, he didn’t say anything until your orders arrived. ‘John’s dead, Alfie.’ You couldn’t help but feel a bit sad for the poor man, you weren’t close but in the end, he was a brother, a husband and a father. ‘I talked to Tommy the other day, things have gone out of hand now and somebody is gonna bleed. I don’t want it to be you or him, I don’t want people to lose their loved ones.’

‘Hmm, I’m your loved one?’ You smiled and he smiled back even it was a really small one. ‘I don’t have many but you’re my friend, Alfie and of course, I care about you. You’d handle him somehow but Tommy’s gonna get killed or lose someone again. You and he have always been so kind to me since I came here so please give me a chance to return the favour.’

‘How’s you gonna do that exactly?’ Alfie sounded concerned, you held his hand on the table. ‘I guess it’s up to him, if he gets in contact with me I will try to stop him.’ The man growled and his free hand caressed your cheek, ‘Don’t do that, y/n. We’re not worth it.’ You closed your eyes and when you opened them, he saw the tears, ‘You are. You are the closest thing to family for me. In all these people in the world, you saw me and you understood me.’

‘I will kill that bastard myself if anything happens to y-’ You cut him off, ‘You have a business to run but me, I’m just a passenger roaming around the world. By the way, don’t be that hopeless.’ You forced a smile and left a little kiss on his palm. ‘Whatever happens, I will always be in contact with you which means if you ever stop writing to me I come here and pay you a visit. Understand?’ The man smiled and this time, it was a warm smile that made your heart flutter.

‘Keep me informed, love. I’ll never forget you.’ He said when you came to your doorstep and you knew he’d refuse if you invited him. Even though he wasn’t showing any emotion, you knew he was pretty sad. ‘Come ‘ere, Alf.’ You whispered and he didn’t resist, letting you wrap your arms around him. ‘Y’know, this old man’s gonna miss ya, little one.’

You watched the man walking away, he grunted loudly and you saw his shoulders dropped. You sighed and closed the door, you knew you were going to leave but didn’t know when. The idea was on your mind for a long time and you were planning how to do it since the Italians arrived in England. You’ve heard a lot of stories about Luca and decided to make him leave Alfie and Tommy. After your encountering today, you were expecting him to do something.

His face appeared in your memory, the sorrow in eyes... What he did was unacceptable but it was clear he suffered enough after everything happened in his life. Tommy had told you about his background, the prison and other things he dealt with. Everyone you knew had a rough life and he wasn’t any different. You’ve always felt like these men should be released from all of this pain and dirt. Alfie was old enough to know that, he was the first one you met. The two of you shared a lot of memories together and now due to his health conditions, maybe he would decide to get some rest. 

Thomas Shelby was different from Alfie, he had been through a lot more and the power was all he had. Alongside your meetings, you had conversations with people you worked with but the ones you had with Tommy were different. He was also aware of the life he could have, he could’ve been a lot happier. He could’ve lived a simple life. Then, he believed there’s no coming back. It was true in a way, nothing he can do would bring her wife to life again. Or his brother, John. You remembered the man again, he always had a smirk on his face and when you looked at him, you could never stop yourself from smiling. 

All these years, you never stayed at somewhere long enough to have an attachment but this time it was different. You and Alfie had a really intimate friendship and even Tommy opened up to you sometimes. The Shelby family didn’t see you as just an interpreter who helped them with their business. You went out with Ada, laughed and drank with Polly, talked with Finn and played with John’s children. To them, you were Aunt y/n. You smiled with the memory of you and John dancing at an event for the business. That night he told you about what was he planning to do before the war. 

When you thought of the Shelbys, you saw children who gave up their dreams. Maybe it was the reason why you wanted to draw Luca away from them or maybe deep down, you believed the Italian was just another victim of this cruel world. Shaking your head to let go of the thoughts, you made your way to the bedroom to change your clothes. When you reached to your bed, you noticed the package on it. You couldn’t help but feel a bit excited as you sat on your bed, unravelling the ribbon. Your eyes wandered on the dress for a second after you picked the envelope. 

   Let’s have dinner

        - Luca Changretta

You let out a breath and read again, he had a beautiful handwriting. The satin dress was scarlet, it was quite assertive just like the man who sent it. You had to take off your bra to wear it and when you looked at the mirror, you liked the reflection on it. The red lipstick made the look even more challenging and you smiled to yourself, he knew what he wanted. You put your coat on and wore your high heels, maybe it could make a difference between your heights. After checking the cigarette box and lighter, you left the house and locked the door.

You were just about to finish your cigarette when a car arrived at your door and the Italian got out, waited for you to putt off the cigarette. You exhaled the smoke and stepped closer to him without breaking the eye-contact, you wanted him to be the first one to speak. Once you were in the car, you studied his appearance. He wore a fine suit, it wasn’t the same one you saw in the afternoon and even though the streetlights were the only light source, his beautiful orbs were able to be seen.

‘Nice place, your house.’ The man looked directly into your eyes and played with the toothpick. ‘Nice dress.’ You commented and noticed the little smile covering his lips. ‘It would be a shame if I didn’t see you in it.’ He offered you his arm and you walked to the restaurant. ‘Well, I’m here, right?’ The worker opened the door for you and after giving your coats to the check girl, the manager of the restaurant guided you to your table. You arched an eyebrow, ‘May I ask why you brought me here?’ 

‘I researched you, mi amore. You are an elegant woman and you should be treated like one.’ You sighed and the waiter saved you with bringing the wine menu. ‘Which one do you work for?’ He asked after the waiter left, curious for the answer. ‘None.’ A smile played at the corner of his lip, ‘Which one do you love or should I say which one is in love with you?’ You smirked, ‘I’m afraid the answer is the same, Mr Changretta.’

‘What is it you do exactly?’ You took a sip from your glass, ‘Simultaneous interpretation but I assume you already knew that. Five languages. English, French, German, Russian and Italian.’ He nodded, ‘Yeah, and how? You don’t have a past. You just appear and disappear.’ You bit your bottom lip without realizing, an old habit of yours from the past. ‘I was born in Russia, my mother was French and she taught me. Then she passed away and my father sent me to Germany to live with my grandparents. I moved to England and learned Italian at school.’

‘I see, a woman with no country.’ You almost smiled at that, ‘I belong to nowhere and no one, better than killing people in order to prove everyone I have strong ties.’ He was taken aback with your observation, ‘I started a vendetta and I won’t stop until they are all buried to the ground.’ 

‘That’s the thing with you people. Thomas and Alfred are all the same. You’ll do that for what, Mr Changretta? Is it going to bring your father and brother back? Is it going to make a difference or fix anything? You are just cowards, all of you.’ 

‘Cowards, huh? An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ You rolled your eyes, ‘You are afraid to let go, to live with it. You’ve already killed John Shelby and you didn’t just murder someone. You also took a husband from a wife and a father from his children. Call it off.’ The rage in his eyes made you stop, ‘What if I don’t?’ 

‘I know you’re not alone here but believe me, they will kill you. Whatever it takes, they’ll kill you if you don’t stop. It’s like a cat and dog fight, it doesn’t make any sense. Do you hate your life this much? Do you want your mother to lose another son?’ You could see your words made him think, he sighed and stayed silent for a moment. ‘What’s in this world to live for? If I die, I will die for an honourable reason. Would it change anything for you if I die?’

‘It would, actually. I thought you are a wise man but if you are this eager to die, then I’m afraid I was wrong. I’d also feel blue because someone I’d like to know is dead.’ You stared at him as he took the words in, thinking about his life and you. ‘You speak like you really mean it, you are a good liar.’ He took a long sip from his wine and looked at you. ‘Do you think I have to speak to make you believe, Mr Changretta?’ 

He stayed silent again and you knew he was weighing your words, you were hoping he’d come round. ‘I was going to ask you what are you doing in the men’s world but now I see, you are as lost as I am.’

‘Alfie was faster than you, y’know? Yes, I don’t have a big purpose in life but at least I enjoy living, unlike you.’ Luca gave you a half-smile, ‘You don’t have any worries but me? There’s no coming back for me after all these years. I’m not a fan of life.’ You tried to gather yourself up, this was the only idea that came to your mind. 

‘One day, Mr Changretta.’ The man frowned, ‘What?’

‘Give me just one day to show you life is beautiful. You’ve got nothing to lose.’

‘I don’t know you, why would I do that?’ He said but you felt you were about the win. ‘Then ask me anything you wanna know and at the end of this night, make your decision.’ You spoke, letting your guard off for him. ‘Tell me about your family.’

‘I was their only child and when I was fifteen, my mother passed away. She loved me in her own way but I knew their love for each other was fucked up. Dad went crazy and sent me away, I saw him in England a few times then heard he shot himself. We weren’t close, I spent more time with his parents. They were nice people but I haven’t seen them for years. Not sure even if they’re alive.’ You realized the emotion in his eyes and laughed softly, ‘Please, I don’t really care about having a family.’

‘Did you ever get married?’ Your smile was bigger this time, ‘Oh, Mr Changretta. I didn’t, of course. Can you imagine me with a baby in my belly? I don’t think I’m the best person to be a mother and well, it must be boring to settle down and sit at home all day.’ He shook his head, you were completely unpredictable. But unlike you, he could imagine you with a beautiful baby in your arms. It would be nice waking up next to you and prepare you breakfast. 

‘How about falling in love?’ 

‘I had relationships, good and bad ones. Most of the time I’ve avoided connecting people, then I got my heart broken by someone. I like knowing people but I don’t like holding to them.’ Luca wanted to know the man who broke your heart, what were you like before? ‘What are you planning?’ 

‘For tomorrow? I’ll take you to a place I like, we’ll talk and see what happens. Maybe I can know you more, too.’ He raised an eyebrow, ‘Have any questions?’  You slightly nodded, ‘How are you feeling, right now?’

‘Confused. I don’t know if I should walk away from that door and leave you or stay and see what you mean. I feel the pressure, the rage after everything that happened. You make me think about things I don’t want to think about.’ You noticed how tired he looked, it wasn’t easy to be him. ‘You have a conscience and it tells you to do the right thing, right?’ He took a deep breath, ‘Why does it make a sense? My mother says I should kill every one of them.’ 

You reached out for his hand on the table and held it, ‘Does killing people make any sense? I know you feel sad and angry but that’s not how to grieve. You should let things go.’ He looked at your hands, ‘Do you? Do you let things go or you’re running around the world to not get attached to people? You are telling me I am a coward but you are afraid of people.’ You tried to take your hand away but he didn’t let you, ‘I don’t hide from people, Mr Changretta. I’m hiding from myself.’

He stayed silent and you glanced away, ‘It’s pretty late, time for me to go home.’ You got up slowly and he walked behind you, your words still echoing in his mind. ‘Let me give you a ride.’ You didn’t say anything and when you were in the car, you watched the road. ‘You know, when I saw you this afternoon I thought you were different, in a good way. How stupid I am for being hopeful.’ The car stopped and you walked to your house with quick steps, you didn’t want to see his face.

‘y/n, please.’ His warm voice stopped you, he was coming after you. ‘What’s left to say, Mr Changretta?’ The Italian stayed silent until you looked at him, ‘I made my choice.’ He whispered and took a step closer to you, your heart was beating fast. ‘When I came to pick you up, I thought I’d have a good fuck tonight. Then you showed me there’s much more in this life. Just one day. Nothing less and nothing more.’ He saw how bright your eyes looked and smiled, ‘When should I come in the morning?’ 

You bit your lip again, unaware of what it did to him, ‘You can stay here if you want but we’ll need a car.’ Luca walked to his driver and took the keys from him, you watched him coming back to you. You took his hat and coat from him once you were inside, you kicked off your high heels and sighed. ‘Want a cup of tea?’ He was studying your house so you walked to the kitchen and put water to the pot. 

He watched you making tea, you were humming a melody and he shook his head at your sight, you looked stunning in that dress. ‘You didn’t accept my offer so we could fuck, right?’ You asked and he smiled, ‘Oh, I couldn’t think that.’ 

‘I’ll change my clothes, enjoy your tea.’  You went upstairs to your room and took the dress off. You choose a white nightgown and found him in the kitchen, sipping his tea. ‘Did you grow up in Italy or America?’ He thought you looked like an angel, ‘Italy, moved to America when I was seventeen.’ You wondered how old was he now, ‘I’ve been to Italy once, to Palermo. There are so many places to visit in this world and mostly I feel like I’ll die before I get to see them. It frightens me.’

‘You have years ahead, doll.’ You smiled softly with the word, this man changed something in you. The two of you went to your room once your cups were empty. ‘I can sleep downstairs if you want.’ You shook your head, ‘Here’s the first thing we’re gonna do to show you life is beautiful, waking up someone next to you.’ He took off his suit and got in the bed only with his underwear. 

‘We are sharing a bed now but you haven’t said my name yet.’ He commented and you turned to him, ‘Come closer, Luca.’ The Italian didn’t question and you stared at him, your eyes turning slowly to his lips from his beautiful green eyes. You closed the distance between your lips and he placed his hand on your nape, pulling you closer. Your hand caressed the soft skin of his shaved face, your other arm around his neck. He pushed you to the bed so your back was resting on the sheets.

His lips left yours and made their way to your neck, gaining a quiet moan from you. He was leaving small kisses to your chest when you stopped him, ‘We shouldn’t do this. Because if we have sex now, tomorrow we will feel awkward all day.’ The man smiled and kissed you again, this time slowly. You sighed softly and wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. He didn’t resist and rested his head on your chest, listening to your breaths. 

Luca noticed you were asleep and he moved away a little to look at you properly. With your hair spread on the pillow, your lips parted and your eyes closed, you looked so vulnerable and unreal to him. He thought about your conversation earlier and this time it made more sense. Of course, he knew he was going to get killed if he didn’t get rid off the whole family but he didn’t care. All the business and problems with his family were overwhelming recently and he was looking forward to a way out. 

He realised thinking wasn’t going to take him anywhere, he shook his head and pulled the blanket over the two of you. He closed his eyes and waited the time to solve his problems, in the end, you never know what tomorrow will bring. 

[spaceskam]

From A Whisper To A Scream (4/10)

warnings: torture basically, sprinkle in a little trauma

1 | 2 | 3 |

ao3

“Alright, you got five seconds to come out of there.”

Michael froze, laying on the backseat of the broken-down ‘97 Audi. He was hoping if he stayed still enough, Sanders would forget he ever saw any kind of movement. Did he move? He couldn’t remember. He must’ve dozed off.

“Now, I ain’t about to tell you again. Get out of there.”

Michael closed his eyes and cursed under his breath. He’d been trying at the junkyard for a couple of weeks now with no problem. He knew it was too good to be true. Slowly, he sat up and made eye contact with Old Manes Sanders. He gestured for Michael to get out and Michael listened. 

“You gonna tell me why you’re in there at 7 in the morning or am I supposed to read your mind?” Sanders asked. Michael just stared straight ahead.

“I’ll leave, don’t worry about it,” Michael said. Sanders snorted a laugh.

“You ain’t goin’ nowhere until you tell me what’s goin’ on,” Sanders told him. Michael glared. At fifteen, he wasn’t as tall as Sanders, but he was nothing if not willing to overcompensate with anger. 

“I’m not telling you shit.”

“Don’t get snappy with me, boy,” Sanders said, “When’s the last time you ate?”

“Why the fuck do you care?” Michael snapped. Sanders took a deep breath, giving him a very unimpressed look. But it wasn’t pity either. That was the only thing keeping him from storming off.

“Look, you ain’t gotta tell me specifics, but, that home you’re supposed to be at, it’s so bad that you’re sleepin’ in the junkyard? Or is it you just feeling rebellious?” Sanders asked. Anger boiled beneath Michael’s skin at the insinuation that he was overreacting. Max did that stuff even when he was well-meaning. Just because he didn’t spill every tiny detail didn’t mean he was a liar.

Despite his better judgment, Michael pulled up his sleeve and showed the healing burn mark on his arm that had directly covered an older burn scar they put there before. Forever engraved with a cross, reminding him that he was a freak of nature when it came to these humans. But he wasn’t about to let Sanders drag him back.

“Come inside, eat somethin’ ‘cause you look like a sack of bones, and then we’re headin’ over to that house.”

“No!” Michael yelled, a little more desperation in his voice than he intended.

“We’re gonna head over there,” Sanders repeated, louder and firmer, “So you can get your shit. Then we’re gonna find your social worker and figure out what we need to do to make sure you stay out of places like that.”

“What?” Michael scoffed, “You don’t think they’re gonna just throw me somewhere else for running? Juvie, this time, probably.”

“Well, if things go like they should’ve gone damn near a decade ago now, you’ll stay with me and I ain’t gonna put up with the running away shit,” Sanders said. It shut Michael right up.

He didn’t understand what he was being told. It almost sounded like someone wanted to keep him around. 

“Why?” Michael asked cautiously.

Sanders sighed and looked everywhere but at him.

“Long time ago, I met a nice lady who took care of me like I was her own and she showed me where her own actually was. Made a promise I’d keep an eye out for him and I ain’t about to break it now,” he said, leaving out far too many details. Michael felt like he got punched in the gut and his head spun. He didn’t understand.

“Wait, does that mean you know‒” my mom, what I am, where I’m from, what I’m capable of, if I’m dangerous, “That I‒”

“You want breakfast or not?” Sanders asked gruffly, already walking away.

Michael ran after him.

-

Michael gasped back into consciousness and Eff stood over him with confused eyes and an acupuncture needle in his hand.

“What’d you see?” Eff asked.

“When my dad decided he was gonna adopt me,” Michael said. Eff made a face like that was disappointing, but he nodded and took a few steps back to record it in his notebook. Michael lifted a shaky hand to rub the nearly invisible hole on his left temple.

Apparently, aliens had very similarly placed pressure points to humans, but they did very different things. Provoking them could trigger powers or memories or any number of things that the brain could do in someone’s subconscious. It took them a few tries to find the exact point on Michael’s head to stab a needle into, but, when he found it, he was thrown back to being just a kid.

“Let’s test your telekinetic limit again, see if that affected it in any way,” Eff said, taking the gloves off and dropping the needle into a glass of some ambiguously clear substance to sterilize it. 

Michael stood to his feet, feeling a little dizzy from the memory. Eff gave him the space to do so and waited for him to get steady before they walked outside.

Eff’s workplace of choice was a small shed in the middle of nowhere. No one lived for miles in any direction and the only way someone could find it is if they knew where it was and they were willing to drive 45 minutes into the desert. It had a couch, a cot, a bathroom, and a kitchen area. Most of the shed, though, was covered in equipment to test on Michael.

It turns out, though, that everything got a lot less scary the more he was there. Yeah, Eff was still mean and he never let Michael truly forget that he didn’t see him as an equal, but, for the most part, it wasn’t that bad. Or at least he’d focused on the bright side. This was the first person who was allowing and actively encouraging Michael to explore things about himself that he’d never gotten the chance to. If this was his fate, it wasn’t the worst.

So what if it was slightly off his game and tired and hadn’t had nearly enough alone time with Alex. It was better than having none of those at all.

“Alright, lift the truck again,” Eff said, pulling out his stopwatch, “And I swear to God, if you drop it again, I’m going to kick your ass.”

Rolling his eyes, Michael held out his hand and focused. The 5,000lb truck was definitely a strain on his abilities, but it felt so nice. It was like an itch that he’d been waiting to scratch, a muscle being stretched, a lung filling with air. This was what he needed. Yesterday, he’d been able to hold it up for 45 seconds before he got a nosebleed and dropped it. Before the needle, he’d again only got to 45 seconds before he had to put it down to prevent dropping it again. No nosebleed.

Now, a little stretched out and a little more excited about what he could do, he fought through the shakiness and ignored the itchy feeling of an oncoming bloody nose. He breathed steadily and just focused. Eventually, though, he gave out and put the car down, dropping to his knees and catching his breath. He wiped his nose and caught his breath.

“One minute, seven seconds. Not bad,” Eff said. Michael smiled. “Now throw the ball.”

Michael took a few extra seconds to breathe before slowly getting back to his feet. He turned his attention to the steel ball that was somewhere around 100lbs, give or take. Michael breathed in deep before picking it up and hurling it as hard as his body would allow at a mat that was propped up 20 yards away that was only there to stop it from going too far.

“Only 35mph,” Eff said.

“You didn’t give me enough time to recover,” Michael argued.

“Doesn’t excuse your shitty number,” he said. Michael clenched his jaw. And he was almost doing good. “Get inside, we’re doing a few more pressure points.”

“Do you know when you’ll let me go home? I have homework,” Michael said, still staring out into the distance.

“Why are you doing homework still?” Eff scoffed.

Michael was about to ask why he wouldn’t, but then he remembered who he was talking to. Eff didn’t see a need because he didn’t think Michael would have a future.

He’d be the one personally making sure he didn’t.

-

Alex walked into the Crashdown with his eyes tied to his phone.

Ever since last Saturday had ended in him holding Michael all night, things had been a little weird. He couldn’t put his finger on it exactly, just that Michael’s mind wasn’t always with him. He wasn’t begging Alex to come over every night like he usually did, simply satisfied with making out in the back of the truck before Alex had to go home. Tuesday Alex had gone to his house to surprise him only to be told Michael wasn’t home. It’d caused so much embarrassment Alex refused to even drive in that direction unless Michael specifically asked ever again.

Alex didn’t want to push or assume or be that guy. Being with Michael was fun and nice, but there was clearly something going on with him and if he was having second thoughts about them, Alex wasn’t about to try and beg him to stay. Besides, it might not even be that. He might be embarrassed for breaking down or there might be a football thing Alex didn’t know about or any number of things. He didn’t know, he hadn’t really gotten the chance to ask. He wasn’t going to act like Michael was pulling away until he knew for sure. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t stare at his phone.

Good timing, too, because it rang.

“Hello, littlest brother,” Flint said loudly into the phone, clearly on speaker with the sound of a car running in the background. Alex smiled just as Arturo, the owner of the Crashdown, came up to take his order.

“Hey, give me one second,” he said, moving the phone to tell Arturo his order. He nodded and told him to tell Flint that he said hi. “Mr. Ortecho said hi.”

“Hello, Mr. Ortecho!” Flint said loud enough that Arturo heard it. He chuckled and walked back into the kitchen. “So, I got some good news.”

“What is it? You finally got that stick surgically removed from your ass?”

“I’m personally offended by that. I thought we were on the same team when it came to the stick being in Clay’s ass,” Flint said. Alex huffed a laugh. “No, but I’m coming into town soon.”

“Wait, for real?” Alex asked, excitement coursing through his system. As much as his brothers annoyed him and he thought Flint was just as lame for listening to their father, he loved them. He also loved not having to be alone with his dad all the time. “When?”

“I’m thinking Monday or Tuesday? Soon, I’ll keep you updated so we can make plans,” Flint said, “Gotta give some shit to Dad.”

“Okay, yeah, can’t wait,” Alex said.

“Tell me something fun, though, what’s going on with you? Anything new?” Flint asked.

Alex bit down on his lip and wondered if he should mention Michael. He wanted to. He never really came out to Flint, but he was pretty sure Flint knew and didn’t care. Either way, he wanted to share like he shared with Maria and Liz even if it was just because he wanted to say “hey look at this thing I got even though Dad said no”. Even though he was kind of unsure about where exactly they stood, this was still an achievement. This was still his. That counted.

“I’ve, uh,” he said, glancing around quickly. There was a table of cheerleaders from his school in the corner, but they were too far to hear. “I’ve kinda been talking to someone.”

“Oh, what? My baby brother is suddenly not such a baby?” Flint teased. Alex smiled and rolled his eyes.

“My not being a baby has nothing to do with having a relationship. I haven’t been a baby for a long time.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll believe that one day, maybe,” Flint said, “So, tell me about them.”

“It’s not, like, super serious or anything,” Alex said, hesitating just a little as he considered if he was ready to officially come out via pronouns, “But… he’s really nice and smart and I like him a lot. I think you’d like him, he’s got the same rebellious-but-not-really vibe you do.”

“Oh, so you chose someone with the same vibe as me? Glad I showed you what good taste was,” Flint said. Alex laughed. When Arturo brought his tray over, he mouthed his thanks. “Well, is he making you happy? Does he know you have a brother who will kick his ass if he isn’t?”

“He does make me happy, yeah,” Alex promised, “But I’m not telling him your threats.”

“Fair enough,” he said, “Maybe I can tell him myself when I come to see you.”

Alex chewed on his lip for a second. “I don’t know, I’d have to ask him.”

“Well, do that. We’ll even go somewhere outside of Roswell if it makes you two feel a little better.”

“I’ll ask,” Alex repeated, “And, uh, thanks. For being cool.”

“You say that like I’m not the coolest person you know,” Flint said, “Alright, weirdo, I’ll let you eat. Call you later. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Alex put his phone down, feeling more confident that he had in a few days. He probably wasn’t actually going to ask Michael. Things were already a little weird and he didn’t want to press, so he’d probably just lie and say Michael wasn’t ready for all that. But, still, it was nice to know that Flint asked. He was interested.

It gave him enough confidence to text Michael first, deciding that it wasn’t too needy to reach out instead of waiting for Michael to do it. He sent a simple hey and then got to his food.

“Hey, Alex,” a sing-songy voice said. Alex looked towards it to see one of the cheerleaders. He furrowed his eyebrows, chewing slower as she sat on the stool beside him. She had never said a word to him before. He didn’t even know her name.

“Uh, hi?”

“Sorry if I’m bothering you, but I wanted to come talk to you. I mean, we’re friends, right?” she said. Alex felt like he was falling into a trap.

“I guess.”

“I just wanted to let you know that when you come to the games, you can sit up front with the rest of the guys’ girlfriends,” she said. Alex kept staring at her with a confused expression. “If you come, I mean. I haven’t seen you at any of the games before.”

“Why would I go to a football game?” Alex asked slowly. She smiled even wider.

“To watch Michael play, silly,” she said, “It’s a part of dating a football player.”

“I’m not dating a football player,” Alex said. And he wasn’t. Or, at least, not that she needed to know. He didn’t owe any of them that knowledge.

“Come on, you can tell me,” she pressed. He just stared. “I’m just letting you know that you’re welcome to sit by us. We can all gossip. We’d love to hear what it’s like to actually date Michael. He’s always been super interested in just really quiet hookups. I guess I can see why.”

“Yeah, well,” Alex said. He still couldn’t quite tell if she was making fun of him or not. The rest of the girls at the table weren’t laughing, but…

“You don’t have to,” she said, flashing the biggest smile it felt like he’d ever seen, “I just wanted you to know that we think it’s super cool we finally have a gay football player. We think you guys are just so cute.”

Alex wondered how many more times he could listen to people call Michael gay when they knew literally nothing about him before he lost it.

“How are we cute when we’re not together?” Alex asked. She rolled her eyes playfully.

“You know what I mean. The whole two separate looks, it’s perfect,” she said. Alex’s phone saved him by going off and Alex immediately gave it his attention.

Michael: i was just thinking about you where are you

Alex: Crashdown

Michael: room for 1 more?

Alex: For you? Always

Michael: 😍

“Is that Michael?” the girl asked, bringing him back to the conversation. He looked at her.

“Yeah,” he said honestly. He didn’t want to be rude. She wasn’t technically being rude. But, still, he wasn’t sure if she was or not. “Thanks for the offer, by the way, but I’m fine. You don’t have to sit with me.”

“Okay, okay,” she said, holding up her hands in surrender, “It was nice talking to you.”

“Mhm,” Alex hummed. He spared her a glance as she walked back to her friends and saw them giggling which wasn’t a good sign. He took a deep breath and tried to focus on his food.

Within the next couple minutes, the bell above the door dinged and a warm presence sat close beside Alex. He looked up to see Michael standing beside him. He had on a big smile despite the fact that his eyes had dark circles beneath them. It again had him questioning if something was actually going on and not just him questioning their relationship.

“Hey,” Alex said.

“Hey,” Michael said back, reaching over him to grab a fry from his tray.

“Get your own,” Alex said, unsuccessfully trying to stop him from shoving the fry into his mouth. Michael just smiled as he chewed and Alex was too charmed to be irritated. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“Me too, this week has been a lot,” Michael said softly, sitting down on the stool beside him and pulling it close, “But I wanna see you more. What are your plans tonight?”

“I gotta have the car back by 8, but I can sneak out if you wanna come get me,” Alex suggested. Michael nodded.

“Yeah, we can do that,” he said, reaching over to steal more of Alex’s fries. 

“Dude, do you want to order food?” Alex laughed. He shook his head.

“I’ll just eat yours.”

Alex rolled his eyes, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he stared at him as they ate. Not only did he have dark circles under his eyes, but he was also chewing slow and seeming to zone out just by sitting there. And Alex was beginning to really think that it had nothing to do with their relationship.

“Hey,” Alex said, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Michael said.

Alex considered just leaving it. But he left it last time and things had clearly not gotten any better. His eyes drifted over to the girls at the table, noticing that they were not-so-subtly watching them as if they were an exhibit in a zoo. He tried not to let it bother him as he leaned a little closer.

“Seriously, what’s going on? You’re worrying me,” Alex told him quietly. Michael made eye contact with him and gave him that little tiny smile that felt like it was only for him. Maybe it was. “Stop it, tell me. Are you sick or something? Is something going on?” 

“You are my favorite person in the whole world, Alex Manes,” he said. Alex tilted his head in that no-nonsense way that just made Michael smile wider. “I’ve been helping Max fix his car, sorry I didn’t really let you know. It’s been taking up my time. And it’s just been one of those weeks. I’m okay.”

“So you’re not just trying to get rid of me either?” Alex clarified. It was honestly relieving to see that it wasn’t anything too bad. Michael’s eyes widened a little bit.

“No, absolutely not. I want to see you more, this week has sucked without you,” he said, batting those eyelashes, “It’s really hard to sleep well without you anymore.”

“Mm, well, maybe I’ll help you get to some good sleep tonight,” Alex said, a suggestive tone in his voice. Michael grinned, his tongue pressing to the back of his teeth.

“Can I touch you in public or is that a no go?” Michael asked. Alex again found himself looking over to the cheerleaders. “No?”

“They were asking me about us earlier,” Alex said, “Told me I could sit with the other guys’ girlfriends and we could all gossip. And that we’re so cute.”

“I think we’re pretty cute,” Michael told him, still smiling. When Alex didn’t respond right away, it faded. “Were they bothering you?”

“No, I just…” Alex said, trying to find the right words. He didn’t have them. Instead, he thought about his conversation with Flint and how good that felt to just be. To talk and act like there was nothing to even think about. He wanted that. “Yeah, you can touch me.”

“You sure?” Michael said. Alex nodded.

“Nothing too extreme.”

“Obviously, that’s for later,” he said. Alex snorted, but let Michael just move closer and rest his head on his shoulder. He could feel the way his body immediately released some tension. 

He couldn’t wait to get him alone so he could remove the rest.

-

“Michael.”

“Nope, not talking about this with you.”

“Michael! This isn’t just about you! This affects us! Stop fucking avoiding us so you can do what you want!”

Michael sighed, bowing his head. He took a few deep breaths and opened his eyes slowly, looking at the engine he was working on. It helped to work with his hands. All the shit he was doing with Eff was too much with his mind and it was nice to just turn it off and use his hands. And, besides, this was the one day it seemed Eff had no interest in doing tests. He planned to just work on this car until Alex could come back over. 

But apparently, he had to still use his brain today.

“What do you want me to say?” Michael asked as he turned to face Max and Isobel. They both looked angry at him. Which was fair. He’d been avoiding them as much as possible. He didn’t want Eff to get any interest in them. They were going to have a future. They weren’t going to end up like him. 

And, besides, he should’ve known this was coming. People were talking about him and Alex. He had no drive to stop them. He had way bigger problems than people gossiping about his love life even if that meant having his siblings find out through someone else.

“Well, first off, why aren’t you talking to us? Did you think we wouldn’t notice?” Isobel asked.

“And are you actually dating Alex? Because what happens when something goes wrong? What happens when he gets hurt?” Max added.

“Or what happens when you get hurt?” Isobel said, “If he breaks up with you or realizes you’re lying to him? Because you are lying to him.”

“And don’t even think about telling him. This isn’t some small little thing, Michael, this is our lives.”

“You don’t think I know that?” Michael asked. He intended for it to have more bite than it actually did. He wanted to be angry with them, but it was hard when they weren’t wrong. Michael was stupid. It was how he ended up being the one caught by Eff. “Look, I’m being safe.”

“Michael,” Isobel said, stepping up to him. She had that concerned look in her eye that made it hard not to listen. “We don’t lie to each other, okay? That’s not something we can do when it’s just the three of us. We were there when you decided to join the football team and I helped you fake all your physicals, you remember? We’re not trying to hold you back. This is something extremely serious.”

“I know it is,” Michael said, “I just… I like him, Isobel. He makes me feel good. I don’t want to give that up just because I’m not human.”

“But we said‒”

“I know what we said,” Michael sighed, looking to Max and then back to Isobel before he closed his eyes, “But, I can promise you, it’s okay. We’re not toxic to them. Nothing has happened to Alex or the girls I’ve slept with. They’re all fine. We don’t have to be alone like this.”

They stared at him, unreadable expressions. He was anticipating them to yell at him and he was prepared to bury himself in a hole until he felt better. But they didn’t yell. They just stared.

“How long have you known?” Max asked. Michael took a deep breath.

“About two years,” he answered honestly. Max scoffed.

“So, what, I kept away from Liz for no reason?” he asked. Michael didn’t have the heart to tell him that he didn’t think he would’ve gone after Liz anyway. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Isobel wondered.

“I didn’t want you to be mad at me for breaking the deal,” Michael admitted, rubbing his eye, “I, I should’ve told you. A while ago. That wasn’t fair of me and I’m sorry. And I’m sorry for ignoring you, I’ve been stressed lately and I don’t want to affect you guys.”

“But you still didn’t have an answer for what happens when he realizes you’re lying to him. You can’t tell him what we are,” Max insisted. Michael immediately shook his head.

“I swear, I won’t. You two come first always.”

“Do we? Because It doesn’t sound like it.”

He swallowed harshly, closing his eyes. He thought about the other day when Eff had pricked him with that needle on his wrist and it had triggered waves of power that he couldn’t control that had sent him into a seizure-like state or when he pricked the one on his neck and that same power paralyzed him until he cried, both times immediately followed by Eff bringing him outside to test again. At the moment, it hadn’t seemed like it was that bad. He was still free and still had Alex. He still wouldn’t wish it onto Max and Isobel.

“Trust me,” Michael said, “You come first.”

“This is bullshit, Michael. You’re being stupid,” Max scolded.

“Max,” Isobel said, “Come on, this is good news, isn’t it? We can be normal.”

“Normal,” Max echoed, huffing a laugh, “I can never be normal."

"But, normal enough, right? College, wife, kids, white picket fence?" Michael pointed out, "You can have that. It's safe."

"Since when have you wanted that?" Max scoffed. And Michael didn't want that. It had always sounded boring. But with his current circumstances, that was an unachievable paradise. He wanted Max and Isobel to take it and run with it.

"I don't, but you guys do," he offered lamely.

"You really like Alex that much?" Isobel asked, "That you're finally telling us this?"

"Yeah, I do," Michael said. It wasn't a lie. He did like Alex that much. Just… it wasn't the entire reason. 

"And you're happy?"

Somehow, that felt like a trick question.

"Yes," he said.

"Then we're happy," Isobel said, "Shut up, Max."

Michael wished that was a sign everything would be that easy. That maybe when it came out that he lied to them again about something a million times worse that they wouldn't be angry. He just had to tell himself that.

But, later, when Alex came over again, he still found himself feeling wrong and off. He was wondering if he was always going to feel wrong and off for the rest of his life.

Alex, however, was a nice distraction from the bullshit. He was reading a book for class and Michael had wedged himself between his legs, his knees hooked over his shoulders and his head resting comfortably between his thighs. If he stayed right there, nothing could hurt him.

He breathed slow and closed his eyes, trying to convince himself that this was worth every single mistake. Alex's warm skin against his cheeks, the grounding presence of his feet on his stomach, his hand in his hair, the door and the window locked, and nothing but the sound of the AC and Alex turning pages filling his mind. This was the safest space in the world. He refused to believe differently.

Michael dozed in and out of consciousness, his mind drained and wanting sleep more than he was able to give. He was almost actually asleep until the sky decided to be a bitch and thunder loud enough to wake him up. He slowly dragged his eyes open, his fingers gliding over the unrealistically soft hair on his thigh. He pressed his nose into his skin, breathing him in. Then he pressed his lips there and reveled in the way Alex shifted a little in response. It wasn't until he parted his lips and carefully bit into the sweet skin of his inner thigh that Alex actually reacted. He tightened his legs around him, giving him a little squeeze that was way hotter than it was meant to be.

"Excuse you," Alex scolded, voice soft and a little deeper than usual as if he'd fallen asleep too. It made Michael smile. This really was safe. 

"It's right here in my face, what do you want from me? I only have so much self-control," Michael said. Alex chuckled, his hand taking through his curls before tugging a little.

He spread his legs wider and urged Michael up to move up. Michael complied, laying beside him and accepting the kiss he gave. He didn't want tomorrow to come. Tomorrow meant more Eff, more work, more stress. Today meant this.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" Alex asked, "You can say no and I won't be mad even a little."

"What's up?" Michael asked. He couldn't imagine telling Alex no.

"You remember that brother I told you about? He's coming into town," Alex said, not really making eye contact. Michael hummed. "Would you wanna meet him?"

"You want me to meet your brother?" Michael asked. Alex shrugged and nodded.

"It could be fun. He said we could go somewhere outside of Roswell so it won't be too bad," Alex urged, "You can say no."

Michael stared at him and weighed his options. He didn't mind saying yes. If it was before he ran into Eff, he would've said yes in a heartbeat. But now things were a little different and he didn't want to make such important plans when he had no idea when he would steal him for the evening.

"Um, can I say yes but pull out if I need to?" Michael asked. Alex eyed him but nodded slowly. 

"You really can just say no."

"I want to go, though. Things have just been weird lately and something might come up. I'll let you know if it does, though," Michael said.

"Like what?" Alex asked.

"Like if Sanders needs me to help him or Isobel needs me to come get her. I'm surrounded by needy people lately and it's making it really hard for me to be needy towards you," Michael teased. Alex smiled and reached out, touching his cheek softly.

"Okay, whatever works," he said, "He just wants to meet you."

"And I want to meet him," Michael promised, "But, uh, does this mean you're my boyfriend? 'Cause this feels awfully official."

Alex grinned and rolled his eyes, pushing himself into Michael for a long kiss. Michael pulled him even closer.

It was the nicest yes he'd ever gotten.

[fandom-trash-xl]

One-Shot: The Small and the Shiny

Timeline Placement: Age 784 (The 28th World Martial Arts Tournament!)

______

"Now, don't get into too much trouble, you two."

Today was the day of the twenty-eighth World Martial Arts Tournament and the two Saiyans, Goku and Vegeta, weren't the only ones who were ecstatic. 

Five-year-old Pan, granddaughter of Goku, was finally ready to participate in her first tournament. Due to her Saiyan genetics, she was a combat prodigy, allowing her to easily hold her own amongst adults. She had even flown around the planet in the span of minutes just that morning.

However, it would be a while before the main event would begin and Pan was dead set on perusing the various activities around the area with her grandpa.

"We won't, dad!" Pan assured her father.

"Hey, don't sweat it, Gohan! She's in good hands." Goku gave a reassuring smile.

"With you, that's debatable." Chi-Chi sighed.

“Ah, come on, Chi-Chi...” The Saiyan looked back at his wife almost pleadingly. “You’re always saying how I should bond with her, and I promise we’ll only buy a few sweets...”

She only sighed, a small smile forming across her lips, still ever amused by her husband after all of the years of worry. “Just go.”    

On that note, Goku and Pan soon took to the heart of the lanes of vendors, looking to find at least something to occupy the time before they were called back for their matches.

"Where do you want to go first, Pan?"

"Ice cream!" Pan cheered, pointing to a nearby stand.

"Great choice! I was thinking that too." Goku entered a running stance. "I'll race you!"

"You're on, grandpa!"

After a brief count of three, the pair began to rush towards the ice cream vendor. However, it didn't take long for Pan to lose her pace.

She saw something. A tail from around a corner, lazily batting about in curlicues.

"Hey, why'd you slow down, Pan?"

"Look over there!"

Pan pointed to the tail around the corner. It was rather small, a dusty rose color and striped. Dangling from it was what appeared to be a small pendant keychain with a circular charm.

"It's a puppy tail, grandpa! There's a puppy over there!"

"Well, I think that's kind of a weird color for a puppy..." Goku tried to explain, but Pan had already bolted.

"PUPPY!" She squealed as she ran towards the tail. 

"Pan, wait!" Goku tried to chase after his granddaughter, but she was already prepared to pounce on the tail. When Goku could finally see around the corner and realize that the tail's owner was in fact not a dog, Pan had already jumped and grabbed on.

"Gotcha!"

The tailed creature appeared to be a bipedal reptilian. The jewel that made up his skull was a brownish maroon shade and resembled a chestnut. The creature's species was familiar to Goku, but he couldn't place it in this rushed instance. He was clearly upset that his tail was grabbed and tears were forming.

The reptilian stumbled back as he freed his tail from Pan's eager grasp, not noticing the pendant dropping from it.  He started to bolt in the other direction, mumbling something panicked and incoherent. He didn't get very far before tripping. He picked himself up and continued to run, this time holding his tail to stop it from dragging on the ground. He finally managed to cry out a word that was understandable: a wailing cry of "Papa!"

"Pan, that wasn't very nice of you to pull on that little lizard boy's tail." Goku looked at his granddaughter with disappointment. 

"But, grandpa, I didn't know!" Pan whined.

Goku sighed. "Well, we should try to find him, so you can apologize." Noticing the fallen keychain, he retrieved it from the ground. “And we should probably return this to him too.” He grabbed Pan's hand and led her through the crowd. "Come on." 

______

Several minutes had passed and the two had no luck with finding the lizard boy. It was rather unusual. How hard was it to find a boy with a tail in a place like this?

Pan was scanning among the legs of passing people to try to spot the boy with no luck. 

Goku turned to look in the direction that Pan was searching while continuing to walk. “You see ‘im yet, Pan?” He inquired.

“No, not yet, grandpa, but...”

“What is it?”

“I think you should be paying more attention to the path!”

“Pan, it’s fine.” Goku assured his granddaughter. “I’ll be fine, I’m not going to bump into anyone!”

Just at that moment, as if jinxed by his words, Goku immediately bumped into someone. He jolted back, almost letting Pan’s hand slip out of his.

“Woah, sorry, sir. Didn’t see you there!” He apologized.

“You’d better be sorry, monkey.” A snarky and sarcastic voice responded.

The sound of the voice resonated with Goku. Only one person he knew had that certain flourish to his voice and that same person was the only one who called him by that name.

Goku’s eyes turned downward to see a familiar reptilian figure with white scales and violet jewels. Unlike the lizard’s usual attire choice, he wore a loose-fitting button-up shirt, dark enough violet to pass for black, and Force-standard spandex shorts, as well as a pair of sunglasses- somewhat feminine in design, likely not something he picked out himself- that his ruby red eyes peeked over, giving the Saiyan his signature glare of condescension. This clothing was probably to help him blend in with the surrounding crowds and avoid suspicion, but Goku felt that his tail was somewhat of a dead giveaway. 

“Frieza?” Goku looked in confusion. “I didn’t expect you to be at the tournament!”

“Well, I didn’t expect myself to be here either.” The Arcosian removed his sunglasses and folded them. “But, Vegeta’s woman insisted since it’s been almost five years since I helped you save the universe, or whatever sappy excuse she used.” He rolled his eyes. “And apparently there are no admission returns, so...”

“Yeah, Bulma’s quite the master of persuasion, isn’t she?”

“I wouldn’t call it persuasion. More like coercion.”

Meanwhile, Pan slowly glanced around her grandfather’s leg to get a better look at the figure before her. Frieza’s tail swished back and forth, almost pattern-like, but the young girl noticed something else. Flicking almost in sync with the white tail was another tail of a familiar dusty rose color. Could it be that lizard boy?

Pan eagerly tugged on the leg of Goku’s gi. “Grandpa, grandpa!”

“What is it, Pan?” Goku asked.

“This guy’s got a tail!”

“Yes, he does, Pan.” The Saiyan explained. “Mr. Frieza’s from space, so he has some body parts that humans don’t have.”

"Oh?" Frieza seemed curious about the small girl. "Who is this? Another one of your hellspawn I presume?"

"Actually, Pan's my granddaughter. She was at that post-tournament party we had, remember? She was just a baby then."

"You do remember I left before all of these festivities, right?" Frieza's eyes narrowed. "I could barely stand being on your team for forty-eight minutes, so I definitely couldn't stomach a full-out party."

“Oh, right!” Goku remembered and scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. “Almost forgot you’re not a party person.”

Frieza gave a displeased sigh at the Saiyan’s ignorance. His tail flicked about faster and the second tail behind him seemed to be having difficulty matching the speed. This attracted Pan’s attention yet again, prompting her to give another tug.

"Grandpa, grandpa!"

"I'm afraid you'll have to advise her that this is hardly the time or place for me to explain my entire anatomy..." The Arcosian rolled his eyes.

"Pan, Mr. Frieza's right. Maybe another time-"

Pan interjected. "But, he's got two tails!"

Goku looked shocked. "He has what?!"

Frieza's eyes practically flew open. "I-I can explain, don't get too over-excited now-"

But, Goku had already started rambling. "I didn't know you could grow another tail! Can you grow three tails? Do you think Saiyans can do it too? Can-"

"Silence!" Frieza barked, ending the rant. His own tail stiffened and the second one seemed to fidget, uncertain of how to mirror the other. He sighed. "The second tail isn't mine."

"So, you ripped it off another guy and surgically attached it to yourself?"

The Arcosian was starting to lose patience more rapidly. "No, I mean that there's someone behind me, you imbecile!" He pinned his folded sunglasses to his shirt collar. "Just give me a second." Frieza turned around and bent down. His voice seemed to mellow as he near silently spoke to the small being behind him. “Come on, Kuri. Don’t be scared...”  After a brief hesitation, the pint-sized figure flinched forward into Frieza's embrace, allowing him to scoop up the tailed creature. "There we go..."

When he faced them again, he was holding a smaller lizard being. Their form seemed to be similar to Frieza's first form, but it was missing horns. Their jewel skull resembled a maroon chestnut. They donned Frieza Force-regulated battle gear. The armor seemed to be of a model similar to Vegeta's, as it lacked the shoulder pads present on Frieza's usual armor. A black silk scarf, somewhat large on them, was tied at their collar and draping along their shoulders.

"It seems that some introductions are in order." Frieza finally managed a smile for once. "This is my son, Kuriza. Born two years after my revival." 

Kuriza, clearly bewildered, briefly glanced over to Goku, then to Pan. After his analysis, he quickly averted his gaze and attempted to retreat back behind his father, who quickly stopped him. He must have been rather shy.

"Wow, never thought you had it in you, Frieza!"

Frieza hesitated for a moment. "What are you implying here, Goku...?” His eye twitched angrily. 

“Well, um... It’s just... You’re Frieza and all, and I didn’t really think you were interested in-”

Pan interjected with her own question to spare her grandfather from Frieza’s wrath. “Who’s the mum, then?”

Frieza stammered as a red color spread across his face. He refused to look either of them in the eye. “That is... none of your concern, child...”

Goku laughed a little. “Same stubborn Frieza! But, anyways, it’s nice to meet you, little guy!” He held out his hand for Kuriza to shake or, at least, grab onto. To the Saiyan’s surprise, the young lizard’s already frightened expression seemed to further sour, shortly afterward attempting to snap his small fangs at Goku’s hand.

“Kuri! Manners!” The older Arcosian scolded him through gritted teeth.  

“Woah! What the heck was that for? Did you set this up?”

Frieza seemed shocked as well. “I swear, I didn’t. I know that vengeance has been in the cards for quite some time now, but I’ve never trained him to attack you specifically.” He let out a small chuckle. “I guess it’s only natural for him to attack what he considers a threat. Just my luck that you automatically fit the bill~” 

Emerging from the brief silence, Kuriza suddenly started to mumble something. It was hard to decipher at first, but even Goku was able to deduce what he said. “He’s... with... her.” He seemed to be referring to Pan and was clearing speaking about her with fear in his tone.

“This is because of Pan?” Goku looked surprised before the emotion was quickly overshadowed by fear. Frieza was glaring at him. 

“Alright, monkey,” The Arcosian growled. “I don’t know what your little spawn did that traumatized my son, but you’d better explain... now.” 

Goku started to sweat as he tried to once again hide Pan behind his leg. “I-I honestly... don’t know what happened...”

“Sh-she...” The young lizard stuttered. He eventually gave up on trying to work out the words and grabbed the end of his dusty rose tail. He made a tugging motion lightly enough to not cause himself discomfort. Goku’s eyes widened with realization. Kuriza was the lizard boy from before!

Frieza looked to his son with a gaze of concern. “Kuri, did that girl pull your tail?” Kuriza simply nodded. “She did?” His eyes turned back to Goku and his concerned look turned to an infuriated scowl.

“Um, Frieza, I can explain!”

“What is there to explain here? This little mutt pulled on my son’s tail because she doesn’t know how to keep her paws to herself...”

“She didn’t really pull though, she was only grabbing on for a few seconds-”

“Well, the tail is very sensitive! She could have hurt him!”

“Frieza, I’m honestly very sorry for all of thi-”

Goku’s defense of his granddaughter was cut off by Pan herself stepping up, her voice reduced to whimpering. “I didn’t wanna hurt him! I thought it was a puppy tail because I like to grab puppy tails, I didn’t know. I won’t do it again, don’t hurt me, Mr. Frieza!” She was almost diminished to an emotional puddle faced with the angered emperor. 

Thankfully for the trembling quarter-Saiyan, Frieza’s temper cooled with a sigh. “I guess if you promise never to do it again, I can let it slide. Fortunately for you both, Vegeta’s woman also forced me into a ‘no violence’ agreement, so I, unfortunately, can not destroy you if the mood strikes me.”

Despite the positive news, Goku’s shoulders seemed to slump in disappointment. “Aww... So, does that mean you won’t be fightin’ in the tournament today?”

“Violence clauses or no, I am much too powerful to safely fight the normal Earthling combatants. I could quite literally tear up the competition while holding back.” The Arcosian’s expression turned into a cocky smirk. “Besides, I can’t trust any of your questionable companions to watch my darling Kuri.” At mention of his son, his scarlet eyes darted over to Kuriza, who was further attempting to bury his face by snuggling into his father's embrace, the gesture met by a brief cheek nuzzle.

"Speaking of watching over and such," Goku added with mild confusion. "How come the little guy was out and about without you? I figured you'd be watching him like a hawk with how protective you are."

Frieza sighed. “I try to stop him from wandering off, but he keeps trying to scavenge anyway. The boy has a mind of his own some days.”

“Scavenge?”

“Yes, for coins- and, before you try to give me any money, we’re fine on that front. He simply adores shiny objects like that... I even had to buy him a shiny little trinket in the hopes it would keep him occupied for a spell, but it seemed it didn’t work that well. It’s this little medallion charm from a little vendor back there.” He turned to Kuriza, who finally peeked back out of his reserved hiding. “Show them your little charm, Kuri.”

The smaller lizard looked back to his tail, only to find no such object dangling from it, letting out a small gasp. Frieza’s eyes narrowed. “Where did your charm go, Kuriza?” He was met with a mumbling response that Goku couldn’t make out but Frieza somehow could. “I told you not to put it on your tail, you know that’s how things get lost.”

“What’s the matter?” Goku inquired.

The lizard emperor sighed yet again. “It seems that Kuriza lost his little trinket while he was out scavenging. It must have slipped off his tail while he was up and about, it could be anywhere in this place. Such a shame that-”

"Shiny..." A small sad whimper came from Kuriza. He depressedly tried to slide down out of his father's arm, only for him to be scooped back up.

"Aww... Poor guy... Are you going to go look for it now?" Pan asked from behind Goku's leg.

"I'm afraid that will not be an easy thing to accomplish, little- Gkk!" Frieza was cut off by a sudden pain: a small kick from Kuriza, right in the upper ribs. The little lizard's mood had greatly soured and he was now resorting to kicking to fuel his agenda.

"Goku!" Frieza interjected, still being given small jabs in the ribs from his son's silent tantrum.

"Yes?" Goku perked up. Frieza had no snarky nickname for him, so he knew he was serious.

"By any chance, do you know someplace private I could go for a minute or so?" He spoke through pained grunts. "Preferably one nearby?"

"Wait, why?"

"Well, you know how he likes shiny things? Seeing my Golden Form helps calm him down and I don't want to attract any undue attention. So, if you would-" A single harder kick made Frieza's eyes widen mid-explanation to near the size of saucers. "Please..." He turned Kuriza around in his carrying, getting his legs to face outward and redirecting his frustrated kicks, unfortunately trying to find ways to swing backward.

"Ahh... Gotcha..." The Saiyan nodded understandingly before briefly shooting him a casual finger gun. "I think there should be bathrooms off around the outskirts- Maybe around the konpeito booth?"

"Much appreciated..." Frieza grunted through his teeth as he turned in his tracks off towards the other direction, redirecting his attention and softening his tone towards his son. "It's okay, Kuri... Papa will do the pretty shiny thing for you soon..."

However, before he could get too far, Pan suddenly chipped in, her voice still somewhat stuttering in fear of potentially upsetting the short fused emperor. "Wait... Umm, Mister Frieza?"

One iris darted back to look at the petite partial Saiyan, Frieza's default look appearing like a glare. "Yes? What do you need, little mutt?"

"Well, umm..." She hesitated. "If you tell us what it looks like, we could try to find the little charm for him..." After her initial nerves, she perked up, confidently cocky like her grandpa. "I'm good at finding things!"

The emperor was resistant to accept the offer, especially one from a five year old, but he eventually let out a begrudging sigh. "Very well, but don't get your hopes up about finding it. It's a small circle shaped pendant- Two sides to it. One has a picture of the sun, the other has a crescent of your planet's moon- and it's very shiny as you could presume." He rolled his eyes as he turned back around. "Now, if you don't mind..." He trailed off, grumbling.

Not long after Frieza had only taken a few steps ahead, all while trying to reign in the silently fussing little lizard in his arms, a thought caused Goku's shoulders to lurch up, like a jolt coursed through him to turn on the metaphorical lightbulb. He turned to Pan, fetching something from his belt as he did- the small keychain that had been dropped from earlier. Of course, it appeared a touch less shiny than hoped due to the dirt on it. "Hey... Pan, do you think this might be it?"

"Yeah!" The young quarter-Saiyan piped up. "After all, we did find it when the little guy ran off."

"Well, Mister Frieza's not too far, so do you think you could-"

Goku was barely allowed a chance to finish before his granddaughter yelped out to cross the few feet gap between her and the father-son pair of lizards. "Hey! Mister Frieza! We have it!"

The lizard emperor flinched in his tracks from the volume of her voice, pivoting back around on a dime and returning back to the two Saiyans. "What?! How the hell did you find that so fast?"

Pan briefly flinched as well, sensing hostility in his tone, but quickly recomposing herself. "Well, we think he lost it when I pulled his tail. It was on the ground where he was, so..." She held out the keychain, Frieza's eyes nearly lighting up in relief, only for his expression to remain the same typical disgruntled.

"It's all dirty, monkey..." His glare shot up to Goku, who quickly understood what Frieza meant by it, letting out a brief "oh!" before taking the keychain from Pan, hastily wiping it clean with the edge of his top, then handing it back. "That's better."

Upon seeing its glimmering beauty reflecting the light of the sunshine, the once stubborn little Kuriza's expression seemed to melt into stunned wonder, a matching glitter in his eyes. "Shiny..." He let out an awestruck whisper, his tiny hand now attempting to reach out toward it, only to be limited by the length of his arm and the hold his father, who was smiling for once, kept on him.

"Yes, yes, I see it, my little chestnut." The emperor sighed. He knelt down to a shorter level, closer to Pan's, as he set Kuriza back onto his two feet and quickly snatched the charm from the Saiyan child's hands. "Now, so you don't lose this again..." He untied the knot of the boy's scarf before quickly retying it again, this time making the knot around the looped end of the keychain. "We'll tie it here."

Kuriza almost immediately looked back down to admire it, fumbling with it in his tiny hands and flipping it between sun and moon, continuing to do so even as his father scooped him back up and rose to his feet. The smile remained on the older lizard's face even as he shot a glaring look with his eyes at Pan. "Don't expect any sort of 'thank you', mutt. You were part of the problem, after all."

"Well, she was part of the solution, to be fair."

Frieza simply scoffed. "Water under the bridge, monkey..." He shifted his son in his arms, transferring him to his backside and, no sooner after the small being had securely latched himself into his new position, his eyes progressively lowered, already tired. It was interesting to see how Frieza seemed to mellow around his son- was it parental hormones or did he actually have a sweet side?- yet his characteristic cold nature seemed to remain beneath.

"Now, if you have nothing further to contribute... I'll continue perusing this overly sappy human carnival until the main event starts." As the lizard turned around, precious cargo slumbering on his back, it wasn't long before his route forward was cut short by another voice calling out toward him, this one feminine, but not belonging to Pan.

"Hey! There you are, Frieza!" He looked with a cold glare to find that the approaching voice was tied to the woman who had roped him into this mess herself- Bulma, waving towards the group ahead on the path. Of course, she was not alone, having her clearly disgruntled Saiyan husband dragged along with her, as well as an unfamiliar pint-size presence, her hair distinctly matching Bulma's in color.

"Great... The woman..."

Alerted by this commotion, Kuriza's attempted nap was instantly halted with an alarmed squeak. His panic amplified upon seeing the approaching Briefs family and, not wishing to confront even more people, released his hold on Frieza's back, dropping to the ground and preparing to bolt away in the opposite direction. However, a stark white tail pushed him back. "No running off again!" Having no other escape option, he defensively kept a firm hug-like grip around his father's legs.

While Frieza remained aloofly looking away, Goku was all smiles to see the group approaching, waving towards Vegeta in particular. "Hey, 'Geets!" His greeting was met by the other Saiyan letting out a small grunt and simply addressing him as "Kakarot".

The emperor only rolled his eyes at this overly sappy "buddy-buddy" display, not finding any interest in whatever sort of bonding ritual the two Saiyans had to share, nor any of the human ones Bulma would force onto him. However, before he could make his discreet exit from the situation, the woman's eyes locked with him. "I thought I saw you around. Thankfully nothing in utter chaos." The smile on her lips was hesitant, even though dragging him here was her idea, and Vegeta held her back with a defensive arm, as if he were a zoo exhibit.

"Your lack of faith in me to 'behave', as you put it, is insulting, Bulma." Frieza scoffed, half-humoring her. "Anyway, thank you for the... human disguise you loaned me." He motioned to the collar of the button-up shirt, speaking of it like it was a burden forced upon him. "And, if you don't mind, I was just about to continue my rounds until you appeared." As he turned around, he unpinned the sunglasses from his shirt and covered his glaring red eyes back up with them. "Without further interruption, I must bid you ta-ta, woman~"

The lizard dismissed the group that had formed around him with a flick of a wave, but, when he tried to continue his trail through the grounds, he was halted, as his legs didn't seem to want to move. Looking down to see what was the matter, he noticed that Kuriza was still stubbornly grabbing him by the legs in defensive attachment, his grip keeping the two legs squeezed together. "Gkk! Kuri- please-"

Of course, it didn't take Bulma long to notice. "Aww... Who's that little fella you've got there?" Once the woman drew attention to the little lizard, his father let out a disgruntled sigh, his shades slightly falling and once again revealing a peek of unamused red irises.

"Oh, didn't you guys know?" Goku started answering on Frieza's behalf. "Frieza had a kiddo of his own the whole time!"

"Ah, that explains why you were asking about child admission when I got in touch with you! I just thought you were trying to pass one of your short minions off as one to get a discount or something."

Vegeta added a begrudging "Him procreating? Tch..."

The emperor continued through gritted teeth. "Yes, his name is Kuriza and he doesn't like new people, so could we just move on-"

Before he could finish, Bulma's curiosity had already overtaken her, passing Vegeta's arm barrier to her husband's dismay. She had already made her way uncomfortably close to the lizard, kneeling down to reach the further fearful Kuriza, his grip tightening and his face becoming more obscured. "That's okay. He just hasn't come out of his shell yet." Her voice became a coo. "It's okay, little guy... Miss Bulma won't hurt you!"

"Woman, please back off. He doesn't want your company." Frieza, raising his sunglasses up to his forehead, urged her, not being heard.

"Aww... Poor guy... Don't be scared!" She reached forward, further triggering the boy's fight or flight, and carefully examined the little charm tied to his scarf, flipping the token in her fingertips. "That's a cute little charm you have there, Kuriza~ Did your dad get that for you?"

"You may not want to touch that-"

"I'm not going to take it away from him, I'm just looking at it."

"Bulma!" Frieza, at the end of his rope, finally used her real name. "I really wouldn't. He-!"

He looked back down too late as the human woman let out a panicked yelp. "Oww! He bit me!" Sure enough, little Kuriza's fangs were clamped onto Bulma's finger, the other four fearfully releasing his pendant. The small creature, frightenedly unsure of how to react, was between moods, letting out a soft growl and tearing up at the same time.

"As I was trying to explain..." Frieza grumbled. "He bites when he feels threatened- and you were being quite threatening in his mind." He reached down and planted a reassuring hand on top of his son's head. "It's okay, Kuri~ Let her go now." While the younger lizard hesitated briefly, he acquiesced and allowed Bulma to withdraw her hand, shortly after transferring his hug hold by springing up onto his father's arm.

"Well, that's a lesson for later... Heh..." With a forced smile, Bulma tried to brush off the incident, rubbing at her sore finger. "I guess I'll leave you two to your business! We'll see you later at the main event!"

While both lizards were relieved in their own ways that the Briefs group was leaving, another voice, finally piping up, was not quite enthused. "Aww... But, I wanted to play with the lizard boy!" The tiny source was the small girl by Vegeta's legs, the color of her hair, tied up in a ponytail, a mix of purple and robin's egg strands.

"I know you did, Bulla, honey, but little Kuriza's not quite in the mood to play right now." While Bulma rationally explained the situation, Vegeta was taking the more protective route, trying to prod Bulla away. Perhaps it was fear of her being bitten too, or of her being 'contaminated' by an evil emperor's son.

"Okay..." Bulla disappointedly whimpered. As she was urged ahead on her way by her stubborn Saiyan father, she raised her hand to wave goodbye. "Bye-bye, then!" Her hand waving overenthusiastically at the same time rattled a small bracelet around her wrist, a few gemstone-like beads making it up- hopefully play-pretend plastic, unless they trusted a four-year-old that much. However, no matter what material it was, what mattered was its surfaces caught glimmers of light in their motions-

As well as Kuriza's attention.

The Saiyans, partial and full, and Bulma parted to one direction, while the solitary emperor and his boy went to the other. However, Kuriza, now reclaiming his prior position playing piggyback, couldn't help but look behind him as the others headed off- though the people themselves were of less interest to him than the real treasure. The bracelet continued to jangle around on its little girl owner's wrist, further tempting him with its glittering allure. "Shiny..." He near silently whispered. His movements were quiet and stealthy, taking some time before Frieza even noticed him dropping down from his back.

Bulla, past her initial disappointment of not having a new playmate, was now busily chatting with Pan, walking to the side of her. Her braceleted hand was held behind her back while her father protectively held the other one. The surrounding footsteps that formed the ambience of the tournament ground made her miss the tiny and quickly approaching patters- that was until she felt the wrist behind her being suddenly grabbed.

"Oh!" She turned around to see Kuriza attempting to take a hold on her bracelet and suddenly frozen in his tracks, realizing he had to deal with the person attached. "Hey, it's you! Hi!" The lizard wanted to draw back, but also refused to leave his prize.

Kuriza hesitated. "...Hi...?"

"It's okay. You like my bracelet, don't you?" He nodded daintily in response, just as his father worriedly approached.

"Kuri, what did I tell you about scampering off again?! That shiny thing already has a home..." The young Arcosian's attention was still diverted, continuing to be subjected to Bulla's small talk.

"My mum got me this for my birthday. It's my favorite, but I really like your little shiny thing too!" Surprisingly, Kuriza did not grow defensive of his trinket when she pointed at it, his more important goal being the new object before him. "Oh! I just remembered! You don't know my name. My name's Bulla, nice to meet'cha!"

Since the lizard's hand was already joined to her, Bulla simply grabbed his wrist in exchange to complete the handshake, causing him to slightly flinch. He knew he couldn't run away now- especially since the treasure was in close range.

Stammering, he suddenly spoke up again, his murmur making him harder to understand. "I- 'm... K-Ku-reeza... Nice to... mmm..." He mumbled, failing on the last word and looking up at his father for guidance, who simply sighed.

"Don't hurt yourself... It's an earth thing... Just say 'meet you'."

"Oh... Meet you! Nice to meet you..." He finished, suddenly triumphant but still hushed.

"Very good, Kuriza. Now come along please. This little one has other places to be- as do we." Frieza bent down to his knees to reach the young boy's level again, attempting to gently disconnect his hand from the girl's wrist. Though he was resistant to do so, Kuriza submitted to his father's grab and returned to his embrace.

"Aww, so soon...?" It wasn't the young girl who was whining, but rather her mother. "The little fella was just coming out of his shell. Didn't you see it, Frieza?"

"I did." Frieza glared. "And it was probably only because of her bracelet, so don't read too deep into it." He rose to his feet, Kuriza in tow, preparing to continue turning the other way- a simple task that he would have completed minutes ago but, with more pestering from Bulma, it became increasingly difficult.

"That's because you're not giving it a chance! Why don't you just come with us then? You'll still be able to see the grounds and the little guys can have their time together. Sounds like a win-win!"

The older lizard looked back with skepticism. "I'm not sure if he'd be... comfortable..." His vision then turned to the boy, who was trying to return to burying his face.

"It's okay!" Bulla responded with her mother's chipper and boundless enthusiasm, the arm with her bracelet raising at the same time and jangling the beads. "I'm lots of fun! I'll be his friend!"

Once shy Kuriza almost instantly popped out of his reclusion upon hearing the little beads clatter and, again captivated like a magpie to its shininess, leaned forward to get a closer look, dropping himself out of Frieza's arms in the process. He skittered over to Bulla and latched onto her braceleted wrist yet again like a magnet. "I see someone agrees!" Bulma, noticing the action, smiled.

This further hardened Frieza's glare, the action proving his argument in favor of this being the bracelet's fault and nothing else. Kuriza appeared happy, probably only because he was faced with a new shiny trinket to eye up. As he was about to make his rebuttal, surprisingly, someone else had an objection.

"Bulma, what are you trying to do?!" Vegeta's brow furrowed, trying to tug Bulla back to his side by her other hand. "Why are you setting up my-" He corrected himself. "Our princess with this little... tyrant?!"

"Vegeta, you're being ridiculous." Bulma's look equally soured. "I know he's Frieza's kid, you had some bad blood, but he's three at most." She looked down to where the children were standing, Bulla figuring out that her bracelet was like a laser pointer and moving her arm around to see if Kuriza's eyes followed- sure enough they did and his tail waggled gently. "He's not going to blow her up or anything."

"No, all I'm saying is-" The Saiyan attempted to protest further, only to be silenced by a quick peck to the cheek by Bulma, the love behind it covered by frustration.

"Just trust me, okay...?" She muttered under her breath before readopting her excitement. "Now that that's settled, shall we be on our way?" Bulma shot Frieza another sickeningly sweet smile, the lizard only folding his arms and sighing disgruntled as he followed them- skepticism in ever step.

Young Bulla seemed to be leading Kuriza along by her bracelet, making her own side of the conversation, all rather earthen topics, some of her favorite things and where to find the best snacks in the city, while he, probably not understanding most of it and playing along to remain tied to the shiny thing, let out occasional nods and mumbles of agreement. His father continued to watch the two closely to make sure they didn't get into any mischief, glaring at the girl with an air of distrust whenever she looked back up at him.

Hopefully, he wouldn't have to keep up this act for long. Soon enough, this charade would end with the passing of the tournament and he wouldn't need to set foot on this dirtball again, unless he made plans to claim its Dragon Balls- and that was a note he could relax a bit on.

Unfortunately, for him, what he didn't realize was that unfolding before him was the beginning of a long friendship that would persist for years to come.

So much for that idea...