#discovering it at my age/older than most also —- means I recognize more in like I appreciate themes go brrrr

[dallasgallant]

Kinda embarrassing to be gripped by The outsiders as much as I am.

Family comes into my room

“What are you watching.” *cannot see tv*

nothing …

My Tv: Seize—

Again?!

🧍‍♂️

[dragmaballs]

About Aloisia

Aloisia Kallista Erkengard is a half-dragon bratty braggart whose current goal in life is to acquire henchmen. Unfortunately, she sucks at everything and is very dumb.

...but if you take her at her word, she's a creature of great power.

She's also probably older than 19 at this point (she doesn't know for sure), she just thinks the Jared meme is very funny.

...Really, that's all you need to know. The rest can be inferred from just talking to her or reading her posts. This is just here to document it, or provide information for the curious.

[ Find me elsewhere in the RP sphere at @in-inertia. ]

—

TTRPG Background

Okay, I do need to clear something up—Aloisia isn't actually a DnD character. She's only made with DnD concepts in mind in the most abstract ways possible, and she's not from any of the DnD settings.

Aloisia is a half-dragon from my own setting, Oikos, the Archipelago of the Ancients. You know, like the yogurt. Which...incidentally, is the setting of my TTRPG campaign On the Horizon. Those familiar with OTH, namely my players, might recognize there's a bit of a time difference between that campaign and the modern day. OTH is set on the eve of WWI. Which means Aloisia is from...after the campaign's end. At least, she's from a possible future for the campaign.

As I said, OTH isn't a DnD campaign (and there's neither Sorcerers nor a Charisma stat in OTH) but...shh! The setting is viable for a Dungeons and Dragons campaign, so long as you can be flexible with your lore and make some changes to the spell lists (e.g. adjusting revival spells to only work on someone with Gentle Repose active on them, to mimic the lore mechanics).

I framed things the way I did because saying she's a Sorcerer is a lot more convenient than calling her an Enchanter and having to explain what that means.

—

Backstory

Left without a family at a young age, she was discovered by her "adoptive" "mother" Celestine Erkengard when digging through her trash for food. Celestine was a college student at the time, and didn't have the desire or readiness to raise a child of…approximately eight to ten years, but she took her in because there was no alternative.

I'll actually draw Celestine eventually. She still lives with Celestine, who takes care of her despite her being clearly capable of fending for herself. Celestine is still a single mother, despite now being in her early 30s, and part of that is because Aloisia slept with her most recent boyfriend. That's a good introduction to the kind of person Aloisia is. Aloisia is an irritable little tyrant, an annoying brat, and a gluttonous, greedy braggart who has nothing to actually show for all of her boasting. She acts like she's much smarter, stronger, wealthier, and overall more impressive than she actually is. The funny thing is, she does have some innate potential—her draconic blood allows her to be a very potent sorcerer. She just…hasn't actually done anything with that potential.

She doesn't know much about dragons, beyond that they're supposed to be deific creatures revered by all. And if she's basically a demigod, then people should be lining up to serve her. She learned pretty quick that asserting that to Celestine would get her a smack upside the head, but other people are surely to be less likely to react poorly.

—

More will come as I figure out more!

[zachsgamejournal]

PLAYING: Hyrule Warriors: Age of Calamity

I love the Dynasty Warriors games. I love the Zelda games. What could go wrong? So far: nothing.

I really love the Zelda games. While they're mostly about exploring, there is a healthy helping of combat. And honestly, it's not super fun. Enemies are obstacles. They're there to make the exploring more challenging. Which, for me, removes some of the fun from the exploring. Still, it makes secrets hard-won and fits the story of violent evil trying to conquer the world. I'm thankful that enemies (besides bosses) do not have high HP counts and that often you can use your tools to make the combat easier. Point is, the combat is not the draw or core fun of The Legend of Zelda.

Enter Hyrule Warriors.

The Warrior games are almost all combat. And as I've explored in my Dynasty Warriors Posts, the combat is a means to an end. The real game is influencing the battlefield so that your army wins. In the older Dynasty Warriors games, the player had lots of freedom in the order in which they tackled objectives (i.e. Officers, Reinforcement Gates, Story elements). As the games advanced, each level started to have a more defined "plot": a series of events that would or would not trigger depending on the current conditions of the battle. Such as, if officer A from Army A meets Officer B from Army B, then a fire event would activate--causing Army B to suffer heavy loses. But if Officer A is defeated before meeting Officer B, the event does not play and Army B does not suffer huge losses. Learning each levels plot gives the player an edge in the battle. It made the game highly replayable, as each time I faced a level I was able to iterate my strategy.

Sadly, I think Hyrule Warriors is too plot-centered, but it does have the relaxing combat Warriors games are known for.

I was super excited to see Hyrule Warriors coming to Switch. When I got it, I couldn't wait to play. That was years ago, so my memory of the game isn't great. From what I can tell, it sort of dabbles in all the various timelines and games of the many Zelda games. Unfortunately, that makes a rather nonsensical story that's hard to follow. I didn't care too much, I just wanted to Warriors! But pretty early on, I discovered that you're not invited to explore your own "route" through a level. The battlefields are very restricted until certain conditions are met (main quest objectives), and if you do not target these objectives, then you're likely to lose very quickly. The game was fun, but I didn't recognize many of the characters and locations (I was mostly an Ocarina of Time person) and I hated how restrictive the levels felt.

I didn't mind putting the game down after 5-10 hours and leaving it behind.

Then came Age of Calamity. I wasn't super excited given how disappointed I was in Hyrule Warrios. But my son was old enough to enjoy Zelda and the accessibility of Hyrule Warriors made him a huge fan. He loved Breath of the Wild but found it too hard to play, so he begged for Age of Calamity, which acts as a prequel. We gave in and bought it. While my son enjoyed it, I avoided it. That was, until we replayed Breath of the Wild.

My wife had never seen Breath of the Wild, so I was trying to make it interesting for her: that is, focusing on story elements and not just roaming around and solving shrines. She lost interest but the kids were invested. I decided to focus on the story. We moved through the quests and got to the final boss quickly. But I also looked for all the "memories" that you could collect. The backstory that was presented was really interesting. Much more so than Breath of the Wild's main plot. So that made me more interested in playing Age of Calamity since that's the events that matched the interesting back story.

Finally playing the game, it's been fun. Of course, just like Hyrule warriors, the levels are very linear. They're almost more linear as most of the maps are a series of corridors instead of large open maps. I'm not sure if this is because of they're influenced by the BotW map, or it's intentional to better control the player's progression. The combat is pretty straight forward. But they're use of the bombs and stasis abilities from BotW are pretty clever. It helps break up the button smashing. I've collected many characters and it's interesting how each character's straights brings a different style to the game. It's not just about picking your favorite character skin, but how you want to play the game is impacted.

Besides main levels, you can also do bonus challenges that open up as you progress. You also collect materials to unlock shops and character improvements. It's fun and makes the button mashing of the main game more fun. I enjoy leveling up my weapons but I hate the guess work in adding boosts to your weapons. I believe Warriors Orochi let you pick abilities to add to your weapons. It made more sense to me, but I may not remember it correctly.

Ultimately, I think the game captures the vibe of BotW and repurposes many features in a way that makes sense for a Warriors game. It's very clever in that sense. But sadly, the story isn't very engaging. Most of the levels just seem to be: fight your way to this character and ask for help. Maybe I just know the world too well to find any of the plot enlightening. Still, it's a fun game.

Finally, and quickly, the Divine Beasts. These are easily my son's favorite parts of both games. While the levels are basically just easy-win shooting galleries, they do deliver on the promise of the original BotW. I never expected to pilot these things in BotW, but it's great that these are playable parts of Age of Calamity.

Good work team.

[cherienymphe]

None Of Your Concern (Chris Evans x Reader)

WARNINGS: DUB-CON(NON-CON?), AGE GAP, CHEATING(?)

DNI IF ANY OF THIS OFFENDS YOU

➥ {page breaks done by @whimsicalrogers}

summary:  costars for a little over a year, Chris has always been protective of you in the cutthroat industry much like a father would be. However, when he learns that your boyfriend is even older than him, he realizes that his feelings might not be so familial after all

~

“Okay, so it’s sort of cool that a small chunk of the Avengers gang is reunited for this movie,” the interviewer said with a chuckle.

You all joined in, in agreement. She rested her blue eyes on you.

“I know that you were a huge fan of the franchise, Y/N. I mean, over the years there have been quite a few tweets from you about the movies, ranging from…‘Spider-Man’s on team Iron-Man so therefore I am on team Iron-Man’ to ‘Scott Lang deserves the world’,” she said, reading from her phone.

Tom got a huge kick out of that first one, and you rolled your eyes. The interviewer’s eyes flickered between you two, a small smile on her lips.

“I mean, am I wrong? Does Scott Lang not deserve the world?”

She nodded with a grin.

“No, you’re right, he definitely does! I just feel like being cast in this movie and having been on the set for a little over a year must have been something like a dream come true,” she pressed.

You thought about your answer for a moment, just like your publicist advised.

“Yeah, you could say that. It’s sort of surreal going from having been kind of a casual fan of someone to interacting with them almost every day for a year,” you honestly answered.

You didn’t know if you would ever get used to interviews, no matter how private they were. You were grateful you weren’t on Jimmy Fallon or something with a live audience watching your every move, but sitting next to Tom, Anthony, Sebastian, Chris, and Tessa in a room was almost just as bad in your eyes.

“…and you’ve gotten super close with your castmates, I’d say.”

You heard Tessa clear her throat, and when you caught her eye, she gave you a look, but you didn’t understand it.

“Yeah, definitely! I love them all and they’ve easily become some of my closest friends now,” you replied, eyes meeting the interviewer’s again.

She threw you a secretive smile.

“…but you and Tom seem to hang out together more than the rest of the cast. As thick as thieves some would say,” she pressed.

Your lips parted, caught off guard, and when you caught Tessa’s eye again, you recognized the sympathetic look she was giving you. A light bulb seemed to go off in your head as you realized what she was trying to warn you against earlier, the very thing you’d unknowingly walked into. Luckily, Tom jumped in before you did.

“Well,” he started, straightening in his seat, shoulder brushing your own. “Y/N and I are the youngest members of the main cast. We don’t really have much in common with the senior citizens to my left.”

He feigned a whisper during the last part, not so discreetly pointing to his left. It had the desired effect, and you were grateful that he was trying to draw the attention away from you.

“Um,” Tessa loudly began, straightening up in her seat just as Anthony, Chris, and Sebastian all spoke up at once.

“I think what he means to say is we don’t allow the children to eat at the adult’s table,” Anthony threw in.

“Yeah, its definitely more like we exclude them, and they have no choice but to hang out together,” Sebastian joked.

“Senior citizens,” Chris scoffed, cutting his eyes at Tom.

The interviewer laughed at the turn of events, but unfortunately, she was determined to expose whatever she thought was going on between you and Tom.

“So you two are rather close then? Being alienated and all,” she chuckled.

Tom laughed, albeit a bit uncomfortably as it became clear that she wasn’t going to give up. He nudged you, gesturing for you to take the stand, having already tried to steer her in another direction.

“Well…yes, but we’re all rather close, but yeah. I would say that Tom is kind of like my best friend,” you honestly told her.

She aw’d at that, tilting her head to the side. You cut your eyes to everyone else in the room, narrowing them as it became clear that they weren’t going to help the two of you get out of this. You just knew Anthony was enjoying this…

“Just friends then? Because you two have a lot of fans, and a lot of them seem to think there’s more to the friendship, or at least, they hope there is, and honestly? Who can blame them? You two are always spotted hanging out together, going for coffee, running to Target… You’re practically joined at the hip.”

As she came outright and said it, you both wasted no time in refuting it.

“Oh, God no,” you cried, shaking your head.

“No, no, absolutely not,” Tom laughed. “Y/N and I are simply good friends. She has much better taste than I do, hence why I have to drag her to Target. Besides, we don’t have Target back home, so whenever I’m in the states, I’m going shopping there every chance I get.”

“I don’t know, I think they answered that just a little too quickly for me,” Tessa suddenly wondered aloud.

You threw her a look of betrayal as Chris added on.

“Yeah, that…that wasn’t convincing, at all,” he said in between chuckles.

You gaped at him as Tom ran his hand through his hair.

“No, Y/N and I are just friends, and nothing more. She-she has a boyfriend, anyway,” he threw out, and you playfully hit his arm.

“Tom,” you warned.

You weren’t genuinely upset that he’d let that slip, especially since you didn’t exactly care if people knew. People knowing you had a boyfriend wasn’t the cause of your apprehension. It came from certain details about your boyfriend…

“Wait, you have a boyfriend?”

Four people said several variations of this at the same time, and you cringed. Tom at least looked a bit ashamed as the interviewer watch on in amusement.

“I didn’t say any names,” he defended, hands up.

You caught Anthony’s eye and he was looking at you like you’d just hid the world’s biggest secret. Tessa looked scandalized as well, and you didn’t dare look at Chris and Sebastian.

“Wait…wait a minute,” the interviewer said, sitting up in her own chair as she looked at you two.

There was a slow smirk forming on her lips.

“So…you have a boyfriend that nobody else seems to know about…except for Tom…”

You both froze, realizing how this looked. A few chuckles reached your ears, and you exhaled.

“Okay, I know how this looks…”

“It isn’t like that, at all,” Tom reiterated. “He’s a swell chap, no, really. He’s brilliant-.”

“You’ve met him then?”

“Well, yeah-.”

“Wait, wait, wait. So how come you’ve met this ‘boyfriend’ and none of us have?” Anthony wondered.

“Yeah, this sounds like a bit of a cover,” the interviewer added.

“Not a very convincing one,” Sebastian whispered.

“Okay, okay! I know that I’m not super talkative about it, but have we all forgotten that I have a girlfriend?”

That seemed to quiet everyone down.

“…besides, her boyfriend is like forty anyway, so its definitely not me,” he laughed, realizing too late what he’d said.

“Tom!” you cried.

Both of his hands were covering his mouth, eyes wide as all hell broke loose. You blinked several times, mouth agape in shock.

“I’m sorry, what?” Tessa yelled over the others.

“Forty?”

Sebastian, Chris, and Anthony were all talking over each other, all of their questions directed at you while you just stared at Tom who stared back, pleading. He slid his hands down, teeth bared as shame filled his features, cringing.

“I’m so, so, so sorry…”

His apology was overshadowed by Sebastian.

“Forty?” he repeated.

“Tom’s exaggerating, okay? He’s more like thirty,” you quickly said, trying to ease the tension and make light of the situation.

Tom’s eyes were wide as they met yours, and you quickly looked away.

“So, the boyfriend isn’t Tom…and he’s only thirty then?” the interviewer finally spoke up when the room was finally quiet once again.

You sighed, eyes meeting Tom’s again as he looked to see what you were going to do. You thought about what your publicist would advise. You’d been a part of stan twitter once. You knew how the internet could be. They’d dig until they found out the truth, and discovering his actual age, and identity by extension, would be pretty bad for both of you. Against your better judgement, you decided to be truthful since the cat was out of the bag, hoping it’d be enough to keep people’s curiosity at bay.

“No, he’s definitely 43,” you quietly admitted.

Once again, all hell broke loose.

As soon as the interview was over, you were the first one out of the room, Tom right behind you. You could hear your name being called, and Tom pushed you along.

“Go, go, go,” he urged.

You had just made it to your dressing room when a muscular arm slid between the door and the frame as you attempted to close it.

“Anthony, not now!”

“No, no, now.”

He pushed the door open, and you denied him entrance, two familiar faces behind him. Neither him, Sebastian, or Chris looked pleased with you, and you just knew that they weren’t going to let this go…not without a fight. Tessa passed by, and you sent her a pleading look.

She heaved a sigh, slowing down before reaching out to pull them all back.

“C’mon guys. Leave the poor girl alone,” she said.

“We just want to talk,” Sebastian said.

It was a lie.

“I’m not discussing this with you,” you told them, eyes meeting Chris’. “Any of you.”

You tried to ignore his frown as you closed and locked the door. With a sigh, you dug through your purse for your phone. You texted Alex, your boyfriend, warning him of what might make it into the article. You weren’t actually upset about the turn of events, you just hated the aftermath that would ensue.

You blamed the interviewer most of all. You knew that Tom was just trying to clear the air and make it known that there wasn’t anything going on between you two. You knew how flustered he could get sometimes when he started rambling, and you also texted him to let him know that everything was fine, and you weren’t mad.

Your main concern was the trio down the hall. Tessa felt like an older sister at times, and while you wish that it had been on your terms, you weren’t opposed to talking to her about this. You knew the conversation was going to happen eventually. Anthony, Sebastian, and Chris on the other hand were a completely different matter.

You stuck your head out, glancing around before leaving the room.

Your friendship with Seb was way more casual than with the other two. You cracked jokes and hung out with all of them often, but half the time it felt like Chris and Anthony were scolding you and telling you what you could or couldn’t do. Sebastian didn’t care, and you liked that. Hence why you didn’t verbally oppose when he suddenly came out of nowhere, easily falling into stride with you.

He didn’t say anything for a while, but you knew it was coming. You bit your lip, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing that he was doing the same. He abruptly stopped, and so did you.

“Forty-three?”

You avoided his piercing gaze, adjusting your bag on your shoulder as he faced you.

“Seb…please…”

“I mean, I’m not judging, I promise,” he said, hands raised.

“Except, you are though,” you sighed, looking at him. “You’re judging, just a little bit.”

His arms fell at his sides.

“Okay, so I’m judging just a little bit, but can you blame me? The guy’s older than Anthony,” he scoffed.

You chuckled.

“Yeah, he is, but I don’t care,” you told him.

“Clearly. I’m just saying, he’s old enough to be your father,” he said.

“Well, it’s a good thing he’s not, because then that would be weird,” you threw at him, rolling your eyes.

He heaved a heavy sigh, and somehow, you got the feeling that he’d drawn the short straw on who was going to come and talk sense into you. You briefly glanced down the hall, brows furrowed. He placed his hands on your shoulders, and you hated how he was looking at you. Like you were a child doing something bad. Your jaw clenched.

“I know you’re an adult…”

You let out a humorless chuckle.

“Do you know who you sound like, right now?”

He rolled his eyes towards the ceiling.

“At the risk of sounding like Chris…”

“You sound like Chris, that’s who you sound like.”

“…this industry can be…ruthless,” he continued.

“Don’t I know it?” you sarcastically replied.

“…and you’re still so fresh and new and there are plenty of people just looking to take advantage of someone like you and your talent and potential…”

“My boyfriend isn’t one of them, okay? He has plenty of talent on his own,” you informed him.

Sebastian tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowing.

“What his name, anyway?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” you slowly sang.

“Well…what does he do?”

“Again, none of your business.”

“How did you meet? How long have you been seeing him? Something, anything! Anything at all?”

You pursed your lips before releasing a soft sigh.

“We’ve been seeing each other for about 7 months now,” you admitted.

His eyes almost bugged out of his head, lips parting.

“7 months?”

You pulled away from him, the day finally getting to you.

“Look, Seb, I have to go. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you guys, but to be honest, this was the main reason why, so…”

You paused, facing him again.

“Please, tell Chris and Anthony not to worry, okay? I know they’re freaking the fuck out and probably sent you on their behalf. I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” you called over your shoulder as you exited the building.

When you got home, there was a slew of text messages awaiting you. Most were from Anthony, and you answered all of them as best as you could. He was just worried, and you definitely understood that, but he was freaking out more than your own mother had when you told her about Alex.

“It just…took me by surprise,” was the first thing he said when he picked up the phone.

“I know, I know,” you sighed, browsing your fridge for something to eat. “I was always going to tell you guys if it ever got more serious.”

“More serious?” he scoffed. “Seb said you guys have been dating for 7 months.”

You rolled your eyes.

“We clearly have different definitions of a serious relationship,” you mumbled.

“It’s just concerning, alright? If my kid was dating someone 20 years older than them, I’d be rightfully concerned,” he defended. “Especially considering I’ve never met this man and don’t know anything about him.”

“Look at the word you just used: kid. That is something I am not,” you said, slamming your fridge shut. “…and there’s no need to meet him.”

“I disagree.”

“That’s fine,” you tersely replied.

You heard him exhale on the other end, a tense silence falling between you two. You were being a little harsh, you knew that, especially considering Anthony always treated you like family, but you needed to make him, all of them, understand that you were an adult who could make her own decisions. They had no say in this.

“…you heard from Chris?” he eventually asked.

“No, actually, and that’s a little worrisome, I’m not going to lie,” you honestly added, running your eyes over your wine collection.

“Yeah, well, he’s not happy,” Anthony told you.

“If he’s going to pout about this like my personal dating choices offended him or something, then he can suck my ass.”

A laugh met you from the other end, a genuine laugh, and you cracked a smile.

“He’ll come around. You know how much you mean to him,” he finally said after he calmed down.

You did know. Chris was one of the first people to talk to you on set, trying to make you feel more comfortable. It was your first big movie, your first time starring with household names, with people that had way more experience than you. He got you to laugh on your first day and even dragged you over to meet everyone else. He’d taken you under his wing…

Your heart clenched as you thought about how he must feel. It was your business, sure, but you couldn’t pretend like you didn’t feel guilty. You felt even worse once you thought about the fact that you’d told Tom and not him, but Tom didn’t judge you. Tom didn’t treat you like some kid who didn’t know any better half the time.

“I’ll text him,” you told Anthony. “See if I can get him to accept my white flag…”

“You do that. See you tomorrow, kiddo.”

You texted Chris as soon as you hung up, and as the night wore on, your worry grew. You found yourself periodically checking your phone for any type of response, but you got nothing. Alex called though and talked with you until you fell asleep. He was overseas, filming in his home country at the moment, but he called you every day.

He wasn’t bothered at all by what might be in the article, only making sure that you were okay.

“Yeah…I’m okay,” you quietly replied.

“Are you sure? You don’t sound it,” he quietly replied, deep voice gruff.

You frowned before turning to look at your clock.

“Isn’t it like…3 in the morning over there?”

“You didn’t answer my question,” he lightly said, ignoring your own.

You sighed.

“I’m fine, really. It’s just…there was a reason I didn’t want to tell everyone, and some people are proving me right…”

“They’ll come around,” he assured.

“You know Seb isn’t the type to care too much, but even he was more judgmental than I expected. Anthony is slowly coming around, but Chris… He’s not answering any of my texts.”

He was quiet for a while before finally responding.

“Maybe that’s for the best.”

You frowned again, sitting up in bed.

“What do you mean?”

“He is a bit…overprotective of you, isn’t he? I know he just gets concerned, but sometimes he acts like he’s your father and…he’s not. He shouldn’t have any say in what you do,” he elaborated.

You rubbed your eyes.

“I know what you’re saying is true because I’ve thought it myself, but for some reason it sounds harsh coming from your lips,” you groaned.

He chuckled.

“I don’t mean for it to, I promise. I just mean that maybe this will force him to lighten up a bit and realize that there are boundaries and lines he shouldn’t cross…”

You blinked.

“Huh. You might be onto something,” you admitted. “I know he thinks I’m such a child sometimes. Maybe this will make him wake up.”

You didn’t stay on the phone for much longer, and your heart sank when you hung up only to see no new notifications. Was Chris ignoring you? With a huff, you plugged your phone up and settled into bed.

You sipped on the coffee Tom had gotten you on the way here, leaning against the wall as you watched Chris and Anthony talk to the interviewer. This one preferred to talk to a few of you at a time, and considering the disaster that happened a week ago, you quite liked that.

That pushy girl had indeed included the bit about your love life in the article. Fortunately, it was tastefully done, only mentioning it in passing, but she had included that the rest of the cast, sans Tom, had been none the wiser. You hadn’t checked to see what people were saying about it. It wasn’t their opinions that mattered to you.

Chris hadn’t talked to you since, ignoring every one of your messages. Eventually, you gave up, deciding that he’d talk to you whenever he was ready. At first you were angry once you realized what he was doing, but eventually you became more understanding. He was probably more hurt than anything that you hadn’t trusted him enough to tell him.

You perked up when you heard the mention of your name.

“So, word on the street is that Y/N does indeed have a beau and it’s not Tom Holland…” he started.

Chris and Anthony chuckled, but you could tell it was forced.

“Yeah, man, I don’t think anyone was more shocked about that one than their fans,” he laughed. “…but we all know they’re just good friends. It was a nice running joke for a while though.”

Chris didn’t say anything, and the interviewer continued.

“Speaking of shocked, is it true that the rest of you guys were completely in the dark about it? I read that the ball was actually dropped during the interview. I mean, how awkward that must’ve been…”

Chris exhaled.

“Yeah…it was definitely something. It made my day though.”

Your jaw ticked as you realized that he was putting on a front.

“…and is it true that he’s 43? I mean, I’ll definitely ask Y/N this later on-.”

“Then it’d probably be best if she answered that,” Anthony interrupted, and you mentally thanked him.

“Well…the secret’s out, right?” Chris laughed, and you frowned. “Yeah, she says he’s 43.”

Your frown deepened.

“That’d be like dating one of you guys, I’d imagine, but at least it’ll be easy for him to get on well with you guys. You all are rather close with Y/N, so that must be of some importance to her,” the interviewer replied.

“I don’t know about that one considering we found out with the rest of the world,” Chris joked, but you saw right through it. “I suppose it’s a good thing we didn’t know though because…”

He suddenly trailed off, letting out a low ‘whew’. He shook his head.

“No. I never would have allowed it.”

Your jaw dropped, staring at him like he’d grown a second head as the words registered within your mind. You didn’t even hear the rest of what was said as you backed up. You almost bumped into Tessa, and she steadied you.

“Woah,” she said. “You okay?”

“No, actually,” you slowly replied, turning to face her. “I’m not.”

You found that it was true. Your stomach churned and you felt like you were going to vomit any moment. The audacity of him!

“I…I have to go,” you told her.

You let your publicist know that you were feeling ill, and you waved bye to Tom on the way out, his brows furrowed in confusion as he hesitantly waved back. You fought tears the entire way to your apartment, shaking your head in disbelief. Never mind the fact that Chris has said that, but the fact that he’d confidently said it in front of other people.

“Never would have allowed it?” you mumbled to yourself.

You were gripping the wheel so hard you were sure it would break. As you furiously got out of your car, you thought to yourself that you didn’t even care if he texted you back or not. You weren’t in the mood to even look at his face, let alone talk to him.

After you showered and poured yourself a glass of wine, you curled up on your couch, staring at the tv…but not watching it. Chris’ words kept replaying, and you wondered how he could even fix his mouth to say such a thing. He wasn’t your father! There wasn’t a damn thing in the world he could forbid you to do.

And before you knew it, you had downed two more glasses and that was exactly what you were texting him. You were certain your thumbs would crack the screen with how furiously you were typing. When you were done, you turned your phone off, slamming it on the table as you returned your gaze to the tv.

It was hours later when you heard a knock on your door. You briefly wondered who it was, but you had suspicions that it was probably Tom. You’d left in such a hurry, and your phone was off, so he was probably coming to check on you. With a buzz coursing through your veins, you pulled the door open, only for your face to drop when your eyes connected with blue ones…not brown.

He didn’t exactly look thrilled to see you either, and you were certain that your face was no different. You pursed your lips, going through a pros and cons checklist of letting him in before scoffing. You swung the door open wider before turning your back on him. You heard him close it, his feet following yours into the kitchen.

You didn’t spare him a glance as you poured yourself another glass, taking up residence on the other side of the small island. Eventually, when he didn’t say anything, you looked up at him, a frown on your face.

“Are you actually going to say something? Or just stand there and stare at me?”

Chris heaved a sigh, resting one hand on the counter while the other found a home on his hip. He stared you down, jaw ticking beneath his beard.

“You’re upset with me…”

“I wonder what makes you think that?” you mumbled into your glass.

“…but I’m upset with you too.”

“Yeah, well, at least my anger is valid,” you spat.

“…and mine isn’t?” he threw back.

You huffed, glancing away from him.

“If you’re upset that I didn’t tell you, then I’m sorry. I mean that. I don’t want you to think I don’t trust you or anything, but you have to understand why I didn’t say anything. Look at how you’re reacting,” you said, gesturing to him.

His nostrils flared.

“What does a man like that have in common with someone like you anyway?”

You jutted out your hip, resting your hand on it as you stared him down.

“Someone could easily ask you the same thing. What, I can be friends with you, Anthony, and Sebastian despite the age difference, but I can’t date someone who’s the same age as you?”

“It’s a bit different. We are your friends, we look out for you, we are not trying to…”

He swallowed his words, seeming like he couldn’t even bear to say it. You smirked at him.

“So I can choose my friends, but I can’t choose who I fuck?”

He glared at you.

“I mean…that is what you’re saying, right?”

“You can choose someone who’s acceptable…”

“…and who are you to say he’s not acceptable?” you demanded, offended on Alex’s behalf. “You don’t even know him.”

He made himself at home, taking a seat as he stared at you, hands folded on the counter.

“So tell me about him then…”

You heaved a long sigh, leaning against the sink as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“He’s…sweet,” you started, pressing your hands to your eyes. “Oh my God, he’s so sweet, Chris. You’d get along great with him. He’s funny, he loves dogs, and he has the biggest and kindest family you’ll ever meet. He’s filming overseas, right now-.”

“So he’s an actor,” Chris interrupted, sounding displeased.

“Yes. He calls me every night…,” you trailed off, suddenly uncomfortable.

“You told Anthony that it wasn’t serious…”

You looked down.

“I really like him, okay? That’s why I don’t care what you guys think. I’m not breaking up with him just because you don’t approve,” you said, eyes meeting his again. “You’re not my father, and you can’t tell me what to do.”

“No, I’m not your father, and I’m sure as hell glad for that, but someone definitely needs to be…”

“Screw you, Chris,” you murmured.

He glared at you, and you fought back tears, surprised at how much this was hurting your feelings.

“I don’t understand why you’re so mad about this! Why are you treating me like I can’t make my own decisions?”

“Because I think you’re making bad ones,” he answered, rising and heading towards the door.

You balled your hands into fists as he made his way out.

You spun away from Tessa, a thin layer of sweat clinging to your skin. Today was the last day of filming, and the crew members were hosting a party. You’d almost let Chris’ sour attitude ruin it for you, but Tessa convinced you to come.

She’d arrived at your apartment early in the morning, fed up with your sulking. You told her about your argument with Chris, and she listened while you ranted about his behavior. You talked with her about Alex too, eager to tell her everything. Talking to Tom about him was nice and all, but it was different with Tessa.

She comprehended why you had never said anything about your relationship, far more understanding than Chris or even Anthony had been. She made you feel a lot better about the whole situation and assured you that Chris would get over it. He hadn’t spoken to you the entire time you’d been here, so you didn’t know about that.

It pained you to think that your friendship with him could end just like that over something so insignificant as to who you were dating, something that didn’t affect his life in the slightest. You stumbled away from Tessa, realizing that you’d had more to drink than you thought. You touched her arm.

“Hey, I’m gonna head inside. Try to rest my nerves for a bit…”

“Okay,” she said. “Hurry back when you feel better.”

“K.”

You trudged your way inside of the huge house, heading straight for the kitchen. You filled a glass with water from the sink, emptying it in no time. You were ready to go for another when movement from your left caught your eye.

You looked over your shoulder, pausing when your gaze connected with that of Chris’. He didn’t look like he was having fun, and your shoulders sagged.

“Can we talk for a minute?”

You eyed him, almost sadly, before swallowing. You nodded, forgetting the glass of water and opting to follow him instead. You stumbled a few times, alcohol coursing through your system, but thankfully Chris didn’t notice.

You followed him into a guest bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed as he turned on the light. He was dressed plainly in jeans and a dark tee, a darker cardigan hugging his arms and shoulders. He rested his hands on his hips in that Captain America way you often teased him about, and you fought a smile.

“I’m sorry,” he eventually breathed.

You blinked at him, the alcohol making it hard to process what he said.

“You’re…sorry?”

Your voice was small and unsure, and his face crumbled as he moved to sit beside you.

“You’re right. I can’t tell you who you can or can’t date. I shouldn’t have said what I said in that interview,” he admitted.

You let out a soft chuckle.

“No…you shouldn’t have. I was so…embarrassed when you said that Chris,” you said, looking at him.

“I know,” he whispered. “I don’t want to make you feel that way. I thought I was upset because you hid it from me, but…”

You eyed him, waiting for him to continue. His gaze met yours.

“I don’t have any rights to your dating life, but…I want to,” he slowly replied.

You frowned at him, and he continued.

“I care about you…”

“I know. I care about you too,” you told him in the quiet room.

“I’m attracted to you, Y/N,” he confessed, making your eyes widen. “I always have been.”

Your lips parted, surprise and confusion filling you.

“I told myself from the beginning that my feelings were innocent, that I was just looking out for you. I convinced myself that my anger at your relationship came from a place of concern…but that isn’t true.”

“Chris…”

“Somewhere down the line, in the back of my mind, I had accepted that anything between us would be inappropriate. That you’d be repulsed…and then, come to find out, your boyfriend is even older than me.”

He chuckled, finding some warped humor in it all.

“I felt cheated. I felt like that could be me…like that should be me…”

You didn’t know what to say. You’d have to be blind to deny that Chris was handsome. He was one of the most sought-after men in America, but your feelings had been fleeting…shallow. You thought Anthony and Sebastian and Tom were handsome too, but in an appreciative sort of way. That was how you saw Chris too.

“I’m…with Alex. You know that…”

He took your hands, scooting closer.

“…but could that have been me? Tell me the truth,” he pleaded.

“I…I don’t know-.”

“I think you do. I think you thought like I thought and pushed any desires out of your mind.”

Your mind was fuzzy, too much alcohol in your system to fully process this conversation. You moved to stand, but he held you in place.

“Chris, I think I should go…”

You trailed off when his lips met yours, and you jerked back, eyes wide.

“I have a boyfriend, you know that…”

“You haven’t answered my question,” he told you.

“I…I don’t know! But it doesn’t matter because I am with someone!”

“…and that someone could have been me.”

“But it’s not, so-.”

He kissed you again, wrapping his arms around you. You reached in between your bodies, pressing the palms of your hands against his chest. He moved back, but he brought you with him. He rolled you over until you were beneath him, and you made a noise of protest deep in your throat.

“Chris,” you mumbled into his lips, pushing against him again.

He was smooth in reaching under your dress to take hold of your underwear, pulling them down your legs with ease. You opened your mouth to protest again, but all that came out was a gasp when his hand slid between your thighs.

You shook in his arms as he played between your legs, fingers ghosting over you and prodding you until he was able to slide them into your soaking lips. A choked moan climbed out of your throat, and he hummed as his lips trailed down your chin, peppering kisses along your neck.

Your body felt light, limbs numb as you heard him fooling around with his pants, the sound of his zipper deafening in the quiet room. You knew what was about to happen. Your brain was screaming at you, but you couldn’t move. You didn’t know if it was the alcohol or shock, but you were powerless to stop him.

You reached out to place your hands on his when he parted your legs, and you didn’t know if it was to pull his hands away…or not. You caught a glimpse of him as he settled between your legs, stomach sinking as you blinked at the sight of him…bare…for you.

“Chris,” you mumbled, unsure of what you were going to say.

It didn’t matter, anyway. His lips were covering yours as he pressed the head of his cock against your folds, prodding and prolonging the inevitable. You thought about Alex, and that sobered you up a bit, but it was too late.

You threw your head back against the mattress, nails digging into Chris’ hands as he thrust inside of you. The noise that escaped him was orgasmic, the deep sound causing you to clench around his length. He hissed at that before completely leaning over you, forearms pressed into the mattress beside your head as he started to move.

Shallow breaths left your lips as he pumped into you, the squelching sound of his retreat and entry reaching your ears. Your eyes were unfocused, hands coming up to rest on his sides as you started to moan. He joined you, bending his head to kiss you again and again.

There were odd brief moments at the start of filming where you idly wondered what it would be like to kiss Chris. You never imagined that you’d find out for sure. Then when you and Alex happened, you’d left those girlish and embarrassing fantasies behind. His lips were soft and sweet with the taste of whatever drink he’d had, and he moved them over yours with so much expertise it made your head spin.

“That feel good?” he breathlessly wondered, jerking his hips into yours.

You gave a shaky nod.

“U-uh-huh,” you gasped, clenching around him.

“God, you’re so beautiful… You know that?” he mumbled, kissing you again.

Your toes flexed, stomach clenching as well.

“I thought about you all last night,” he quietly professed. “I thought about your lips and these fucking thighs and how it’d feel to be in between them…”

“Chris,” you whined.

“You’re so tight,” he hissed in your ear. “Tighter than I’d imagined you’d be.”

One of your hands traveled to his back, bunching up his shirt and sweater.

“Chris,” you gasped, breath hitching. “Chris, I think…”

Your words died on your tongue as you moaned, wrapping your legs around him, pulling him closer. He groaned against your skin, lifting his head to look into your eyes.

“You gonna come for me?”

You gave a jerky nod, tightening your grip on him. He hissed when you clenched around him again, blue eyes boring into your own.

“Yeah? You’re fucking choking my cock. A greedy little thing,” he murmured, never taking his eyes off of yours. “Come on, baby. Show me what I do to you…”

You shook in his arms as your climax rushed over you, legs trembling and eyes rolling as you clenched around him again and again. He wasn’t done, fucking you through it until you were an incoherent mess beneath him.

You never did rejoin Tessa on the dance floor.

~

tags: @harryspet​ @coconutqueen21​ @readermia​ @nickyl316h​

[heyitsmerose]

Russian Roulette | Mafia!Seonghwa

Pairing: Mafia!Seonghwa x Assassin/Sniper!Reader

Genre: Angst, Mafia!

Word Count: 11.2k

Summary: A part of the infamous Park gang, your life is never short of crazy. You've never met the man himself, but tonight something is different. He accompanies the rest of the gang to one of your usual Friday night outs. It all goes south however, as you discover the night doesn't turn out as it's supposed to, a dangerous obstacle in your way. You are forced to pick between the lives of your boss, your best friends and young boy in a menacing game of Russian Roulette.

Warnings/Disclaimer: I am aware the Mafia life is nothing like I am portraying it. It is definitely not full of attractive, young, single people and many nasty/dirty things happen behind the scenes. Furthermore this is quite a serious topic as some people lose their lives over this. I will not be portraying the reality of mafia gangs, instead just an idealised version (thus remember, none of this is real). That being said, a little imagination and creativity never hurt anyone did it? Also this is my second SeonghwaxMafia fic oops.

Blood + Wounds

Mafia + Gangs

Guns + Weapons

Underage Drinking + Assault

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Youtube Playlist

1:55  ───|────── 4:45

|◁              II             ▷| *I've spent a few weeks on this, I'm sorry if there are spelling errors, I've read the entire thing maybe 5-6 times.

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Friday. 6 pm. After-work hours. What were you doing? What every other normal friend group would do; go to the nearby bar to relax. Except you weren't normal. You and 14 or so others in the bar at the moment, had a dirty secret. You were a part of a gang, a mafia gang to be exact. In all honesty, unlike the movies or stories that had portrayed them, the public rarely knew about mafia gangs, let alone knew if they existed. You could roam around freely without the need to worry about someone recognizing you. No one would know that such a pretty face hid such a dark secret.

Besides, this was your lifestyle now. You knew the gang was political and focused on some power struggle but you couldn't care less. Frankly, the only reason you joined the gang was that you were broke. You were introduced to it after you stumbled into this exact bar at the age of 16, wanting to become a bartender as you knew it paid well. You tried applying for the job but it turned out you were underage and couldn't work at the bar yet. While you were slapped by reality, however, someone was watching your every move. She was young too, maybe 15 or 16 and she had noticed you the moment you entered the bar/club. Not too many new people came along so she was intrigued. Immediately when she sensed your aura and your personality, she knew you'd fit in well with the gang.

She noticed how confidently you carried yourself and noticed your dark fashion choice. She stared as you made your way to the counter, swaying your hips as you got the attention of the bartender. The way, you leaned against the counter cooly, your lips parted slightly as you waited for a response. As she kept looking at you you looked back, feeling someone glare holes into the back of your skull. You noticed a young girl, hair a burgundy color with full black clothes. She smiled at you softly and you only raised your eyebrows before rolling your eyes and averting eye contact. What a badass personality you had. Perfect.

Despite really wanting a friend in the gang, and wanting to recommend you to the boss, she couldn't. Alas, she was only a young hacker and her position was not too significant. What she didn't expect was for you to come up to the group yourself, and introduce yourself. You got your response from the manager, and it was not one you were too happy with, you scoffed and turned on your heel, looking for a way to better your situation and rotten mood. She picked up her drink and gulped it down after you looked away. She looked back at you and you were gone. Her eyes widened as she sighed. She knew you'd get along but she was never going to see you again. The last thing she expected was to hear a voice from near the central table.

"Listen up people. Is this some sort of badass, thug gig? Are yall hiring? Can I be a part of this?" You announced. She spat out her drink and choked, hearing your words. Not only were you an outsider intruding on their business, but you had also shamed the gang in front of the underboss, one of the people present there.

Being somewhat new herself, She got nervous thinking of the consequences you'd face for messing with the mafia world. She heard a deep chuckle from behind her, somewhere and chills ran down her spine.

"Actually, we do have an opening" One of the taller males whispered in a low voice. At this point, no one could tell if he was being serious or whether he just wanted to chop your head off. She gripped her drink harder and stared at both of you. She noticed it was none other than the boss's right-hand man and most trusted member, the underboss, San. Should anything happen to the boss, the gang would be given to San.

You twirled a piece of your hair in between your fingers as you smiled back. You weren't intimidated. Besides, he looked no more than around 5 years older than you. You stepped closer, staring into his sparkling, yet cold brown eyes. You noticed how his hand gravitated dangerously close to your personal space and you were slightly more alert. Through the corner of your eye, you noticed how his hand was moving closer to your waist but none of you broke eye contact. Before his hand made contact with your waist, you grabbed his wrist. The hand that was twirling the piece of hair swiftly snapped down, grabbing his wrist tightly. His eyes widened and he tried pulling away gently while you kept the firm grip, not breaking eye contact. The others around you gasped but you kept glaring at him while he had an amused smirk on his face.

"What kind of opening?" You gritted out. Sure, you were desperate, but you weren't going to let people throw you around and use you. Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to assert dominance but he just looked at you and tilted his head. A smile broke out on his face, a genuine one this time. You loosened your grip, letting go of him, still a little cautious as he simply massaged his wrist, still maintaining a smile on his face.

"I think you'll like it more than you think"

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Although you had originally joined because you needed money. You found that this lifestyle had fit you more than you thought. You enjoyed the thrill and you couldn't imagine yourself working anywhere else. It had been around 5 years since you joined and you were now 21. Meanwhile, the burgundy-haired girl, Ashe, became your best friend and you even lived together. The bond you shared was to die for, you loved each other to bits but also were each other's biggest supporters. You maintained your bitchy persona and starting rubbing off on Ashe too. Soon, she also developed a colder more confident aura. You were with her through thick and thin. Your position now was a spy and secondary shooter. Despite shooting not being your main pursuit, out of the gang, you were one of the most skilled in using them. Some even compared you to the boss, but you shrugged them off. San was for sure the best shooter out of the entire gang though.

Surprisingly, San, the underboss, who you found was 22 at the time was now 27. You had developed a close bond. Your relationship consisted of a lot of teasing and inside jokes as well as a lot of protectiveness from San. Although your relation started rough, it slowly transitioned from mean comments to teasing names and now playful banter. You had a sibling relationship and he was like the brother you never had. You both were the best with guns in your entire gang so you bonded quite a lot as you spent a lot of time training and practicing together. Not to mention when you'd both geek out over specific new models that were brought into the weaponry.

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Back to the present, you were at the usual bar. After joining the gang, you quickly realized that this was the go-to spot for after-work hours. It wasn't mandatory to come here, but it was kind of a tradition every Friday to come and just let loose for a bit. Most of the gang was here and it was usually the same people every time. Today though, something was different. The boss had come in. To outsiders it would seem casual, as if a normal friend group was getting wasted, to everyone in the gang though, you knew that was far from the truth.

The boss had never come with you guys, and although it was after working hours, you all couldn't help but be on your best behavior. He had often heard that his gang members would meet up after work on a friendly basis and he wanted to know what this was about. He heard San talking about it during work once and was intrigued ever since. Thus, here you were... here he was... along with the 14 or so others who usually came to the bar.

To be completely honest, coming to the bar was your favorite part of your job, scratch that, your entire week. You looked forward to it all week and when it finally came you let loose. It was a known fact that you and San were the crazy daredevils of the group. You both had absolutely no fear or shame in the things you did. Today though, you both had tried to be on your best behavior. Despite being his right-hand man, San was still a little intimidated by Seonghwa and you often used to playfully gossip about him, so you both made sure to behave today, or at least tried...

Seonghwa stuck out like a sore thumb. It was clear no one was expecting him to come, and to be honest, nobody wanted him to come either. He was leaning against a counter, eyes scanning the crowd carefully while sipping a rather small glass of whiskey. Typical Seonghwa, being cautious and defensive even off the job. You hadn't had too many personal encounters with Seonghwa, you had just seen him around a bunch.

Meanwhile, although you and San had agreed to tone it down a bit, you couldn't help it. Drunk was an understatement. You rushed over to the front as soon as the adrenaline hit you and had roughly shoved some people off the raised platform of the dance floor. You were shouting random lyrics into the crowd and hyping everyone up while pulling a few random strangers onto the stage. After swaying your hips a bunch and screaming song lyrics into strangers' faces, you realized this still wasn't enough. You staggered to the DJ and snatched one of the many mics and went back to the stage.

Acquired with a new toy to distract you, you began to get everyone's attention.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen" You slurred into the mic. By now, most of the gang members had gotten used to your crazy shenanigans and didn't mind. Although many were initially afraid of San, you had defiantly changed him for the better. He finally found someone to match his energy and charisma and he let loose a little, finally free to show his true self. Everyone had gotten used to it at this point, but this was different, the boss was here.

Most of them immediately sobered up hearing your booming voice from the gigantic sound boxes. Ashe was hooking up with some random girl somewhere else, but as soon as she recognized it was you, she immediately began to look for you.

"How's everyone doing tonight? Are we having funn?" By now, you had gotten the attention of everyone in the bar, including Seonghwa. He looked at you with a dangerous gleam in his eyes, he recognized you. You were the little minx that caught his eye the day you joined the gang, you barely spoke to him, but he could sense the confident aura radiating from you.

The mic was roughly snatched from you, by one of the guys, you assumed was the manager, and you scoffed, rolling your eyes, walking towards the dance floor. He wasn't going to stop you, no one was. Since you had gotten everyone's attention, everyone's eyes were on you. You hopped over to the center of the dance floor, hair bouncing as you fully let go. You swayed your hips and ran your fingers through your hair.

You heard a few whistles and hollers around you and a bunch of hands touching your waist. At this point, you were too drunk to even react properly and just continued dancing, enjoying the attention. You hyped everyone up and began jumping to the beat, hair bouncing over your shoulders as you shook your head from side to side at the beat.

By now, you had caught Seonghwa's attention too, he was intrigued by your carefree persona outside work and admired your ability to separate your two lives. Meanwhile, Ashe had rushed to your side, trying to pull you away from everyone. Despite being drunk, her motherly instincts kicked in and she felt the need to protect you.

"Y/n, what are you doing? The boss is watching!" She practically yelled. You just gave her a disapproving look and pulled her into the middle of the circle.

"Asheeee, just let loose for one night, why are you always so uptight?" You slurred to her, caressing her waist. She gulped and looked back at your eyes. You raised your eyebrows and smirked, if only you knew the effect you had on her. As if on cue, the DJ played the worst song possible, a slow, sensual one.

You whispered the lyrics into her ear as you wrapped your arms around her neck. You caressed the back of her neck with your fingers and tugged on the smaller strands of hair in the back. You slowly started moving your waist to the rhythm as she tried steadying you, you were drunk, this was not okay. You pulled your hands away from her neck and caressed her cheeks in both of your hands, inching closer. You kept whispering the lyrics and she felt your warm breath on her lips. She was slowly gaining confidence and eventually grabbed your waist in her hands. You looked down at her hands and smirked. You brought one of the hands caressing her cheek to softly trace her bottom lip. You stared at her lips, inching closer and closer, warm breaths mixing.

All of a sudden you turned around, your back facing her, as she steadied you again. You began moving again, bending forwards purposely to rub against her. You swayed your waist and pushed backward. She knew what you were doing and slowly inched her hands downwards towards your ass. Although you were best friends, there was no doubt that there was some sexual tension between the two of you.

She began tracing patterns on your hips and butt as one hand remained on your waist. She felt around your waist, trailing patterns around your skimpy black dress until she felt a harder material near your chest and stomach. She blushed immediately not meaning to touch you there and placed her hand back on your waist. You chuckled as you ground against her harder, now definitely trying to start something. She lightly moaned as she gripped your hips, trying to pull you back up, she wouldn't be able to hold herself back for much longer like this.

"Goodness me, what have I walked upon here?"

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Way to ruin the moment Choi San...

Ashe froze upon hearing his voice. She immediately pulled her hands away from you and stepped back, a dark red blush now coating her features. Meanwhile, you were too drunk to think straight and simply frowned at the lack of contact, you were just about to get laid.

The second the others saw Ashe step away from you, random strangers started touching you again. One of them grabbed your waist, as another gripped your chin. You closed your eyes and continued moving to the beat and San sighed.

"I think that's enough, step aside before I make you" San huffed, a hint of frustration and anger at the end. Everyone obliged immediately upon sensing his dominating aura and you were once again alone. You sighed, eyebrows furrowing as you looked around, most of the people around you had moved away. You stumbled slightly and tried stabilizing yourself, only to fail miserably and almost fall over.

San rushed over and held you by your shoulders to steady you.

"Why hello there, handsome man" You sloppily winked at San and he rolled his eyes.

"Y/n what on earth are you doing? You made quite the scene just then..."

"I was having fun... you're such a killjoy, Saniee." You slurred, sticking your pointer finger into his chest. He simply pushed your finger away, trying to be strict with you.

"Yeah, your definition of fun being screaming lyrics into the mic nearly deafening everyone, throwing yourself at random people, grinding on Ashe and almost kissing her, and practically falling on the floor and eating shit" He was frustrated, but he couldn't help but feel protective over you. Despite scolding you, he still had an arm around your waist, looking deeply into your eyes, hand on your back, holding you up so you didn't fall. It was subtle things like this that showed that he deeply cared and under his strictness, he was just a big softie.

"I- I what?" You sighed trying to step away, now that he was recalling the events it started setting in.

"Yeah, how about we sober up, hmm?" He asked and you nodded as he dragged you back to the counter. You looked back one last time, only to see Ashe looking at you with heartbroken eyes. You looked away feeling guilty as tears glimmered in her eyes. To you it was just a bit of fun, to her it meant the world. Even just a few minutes where you seemed interested in her made her feel special. Deep down, you knew she might have liked you, so why did you lead her on and rub yourself against her?

You sighed shakily feeling immensely guilty. San looked down at you, as he noticed tears falling down your eyes.

"Aren't you a mess?" He chuckled and you breathed out shakily

"Shut up san" Your voice broke as you softly spoke. His eyes widened and he sat you down on a barstool.

"Why are you crying, what's wrong?" He asked as he rubbed under your eyes with his thumbs, gripping your jaw with one hand.

"I might have ruined my friendship with Ashe," You said softly and he sighed.

"Why would you think that?" He said, looking into your eyes as you tried averting eye contact.

"Deep down, I had a feeling she liked me, and I made things worse by leading her on. I rubbed myself on her like an idiot and I fucking led her on, gosh I'm such a bad friend!" Your voice cracked as San 'hmmed in understanding.

"Well, why did you do that?" He asked as he gripped your chin making you look back at him.

"I- I... I was drunk, I AM drunk." You clarified, stuttering a bit.

"No you're not," He said matter-of-factly. You raised your eyebrows in confusion as you urged him to continue.

"Y/n, I've known you for more than 5 years now, I've seen you drunk over a million times, I can tell when you're actually drunk... You may have fooled the others, but not me. Here's the real question, why the fuck are you pretending to be drunk?" He asked all of a sudden and you felt vulnerable.

It was crazy how he could read you like an open book. Your eyes widened as you tried looking away, there was no point in continuing the charade at this point. He looked back at you expectantly and sighed, as he saw you getting nervous.

"It's alright, I don't think anyone else noticed either, now please tell me what's wrong?" He said in a soft tone as you sighed.

"I can't tell you San," You said looking back into his eyes.

"Why? We aren't on duty, why are you being so secretive? Especially with me?" He specified the word 'me'. It was true, you usually never kept anything from each other so this was a bit weird.

"I just can't tell you I'm sorry" You sighed, tugging on the roots of your hair, as your hands gripped your scalp. He just sighed in understanding and got up. As he was about to leave, your hand snapped back and you gripped his forearm.

"I'm sorry San, but I can't help it. One more thing, don't you dare tell anyone." Your voice dropped an octave lower and he gulped, he had never seen you so serious before.

"Act as if you know nothing, I'm sorry it has to be this way, but just carry on with whatever you were doing and please stay out of my business just for today." His eyes bore into yours dangerously but you didn't back down. You had never commanded him before, so this must have been serious. He eventually realized it must have been something important and walked away, but not before scoffing at you.

You sighed and looked down, feet dangling over the barstool. That was close. With your cover now blown and known to San, you had to be a little more careful now. You were glad no one else had figured out though, not even your best friend Ashe. Your thoughts went back to Ashe and you felt incredibly guilty. How stupid you were, willing to throw away your friendship of 5 years, your only real friendship just to put on an act and sell your drunk state. Pathetic. You sighed as you looked back to where you were a couple of minutes ago. Although you felt immensely guilty, you couldn't help it, it was a part of your act.

Trying to go back to what you were doing, you eyed a few of the people at the bar. Although you had to act drunk, actually drinking was off-limits for today. You ordered a sparkling lemonade for yourself while looking around. Meanwhile, your eyes caught on Seonghwa. He was leaning against a counter, head leaning back. his eyes were closed and his soft bangs fell over his forehead. He brought his drink up to his lips and took a small sip. As he swallowed you saw how his adam's apple bopped up and you gulped feeling giddy inside. You tried shaking yourself out of it, but when he placed his drink aside and ran his hand through his soft, black hair, you almost lost it. You could barely see the sheen of sweat coating his forehead as he brushed his fingers through his hair.

Luckily for you, you were interrupted by the bartender bringing over your drink, and you looked away embarrassed. You shook your head to get rid of any weird thoughts or feelings as you were sure you were practically drooling. Without looking, you brought the glass to your lips to have a sip. Just as you were about to take a sip though, you caught a whiff of a rather familiar smell. You pulled the glass away from your lips and looked questioningly at the bartender.

He just looked the other way and raised his eyebrows, ushering you to follow his gaze. As you did, you found a well-built, tall, brown-haired man staring back at you. You looked back at your drink and swirled it around a bit. You noticed that it was an alcoholic drink and there were some undissolved white particles at the bottom of the cup. You looked back up at him and he simply winked at you, smirking. Pathetic. He just tried to fucking drug you and thought you'd fall for it.

You smirked realizing your act worked and he actually thought you were drunk. You tried to cover up your discomfort and simply flashed him a lop-sided smile. You turned around, tilting your head back and lifting your hand to your mouth, acting as if you had just downed the drink. You sneakily slid the drink over the counter into some far corner, so no one would notice. You messed up your hair slightly before turning back around to catch his attention to further solidify your act. As soon as you turned back around to look at the guy though, you noticed he was gone. You furrowed your eyebrows and looked around, trying to find him.

"Looking for me, honey?" You heard someone sensually whisper into your ear from the side. Chills ran down your spine, but you tried to cover up your discomfort and disgust. You turned to him, looking him in the eyes, making sure to look a little droopy before calling out to him.

"Hi~" You slurred, making sure to breathe out so your warm breath hit his face. His eyes immediately rolled in pleasure, jaw-dropping as he took in your sexy aura. You almost scrunched your face in disgust but clenched your jaw to stop your reflexes. He opened his eyes again and inched closer to your face as he spoke again.

"You're so gorgeous, damn, how have I never noticed you?" He said, his breath hitting your face. Your nose scrunched as you smelled the alcohol in his breath. Luckily he thought you were just reacting to his compliment. More importantly, however, you confirmed he was drunk... Perfect. He would most likely let down his guard so you had a solid chance at executing your plan. He also revealed that he was a regular at the bar, another important piece of information you needed to confirm your suspicions.

You giggled as your hand slowly trailed up his chest. You rested your hand firmly on his chest as you tried to push yourself further into him. He hummed and trailed a hand down to your waist. Although you didn't want his hands all over you, it was inevitably a part of the job, so you tried your best to just power through it and ignore it.

He leaned in closer until his bangs fell over your forehead. He secured his hands around your waist and held you tight. You flinched from the roughness and tried squirming around to loosen, his grip but he didn't budge. Soon a hand trailed to the side of your hip and you knew where this was going. You sighed and looked down at his hand. Normally, you would have instantly pushed him away, but this mission was far more important than how you were feeling at the moment.

He rested his hand near the dip of your waist, right above your hip, testing the waters. Remembering that you needed to act drowsy, you looked back up at him, your eyes fluttering as you smiled one last time, before falling limp in his arms. You heard him grunt as he easily threw you over his shoulder. Although this should have seemed like a major red flag to anyone around you, people weren't paying attention and they probably didn't care either. You internally whined at the situation you were in and slyly looked around, he was walking towards the back of the club, near the backrooms. You wiggled around a bit in his arms and he resorted to pressing a hand against your ass. You moved around slightly, still acting as if you were drugged, trying to get his hand off you, you couldn't directly push it off as he'd know something was up.

"Where are we goingg" You slurred, trying to indicate you were still conscious.

"Don't worry about that, honey" He whispered, smacking your ass. What a pathetic sick fuck he was. You groaned at the impact, bracing yourself for what was to come next.

Meanwhile, Seonghwa was simply looking around, observing his surroundings and being cautious as usual, when he noticed a man carrying one of the ladies into the backrooms. He knew she was unconscious, most likely drugged and being taken into the room against her will. It seemed as though the people around them didn't even care. He looked a little more closely and noticed what she was wearing. A bodycon black dress up till her thighs, with studded embellishments on the waistline and straps. It was you. He has seen you around the headquarters, tagging behind San all the time.

"Y/n?" He whispered, beginning to get a little angry, it was one thing to mistreat a woman and force yourself on her, but it was another to mess with a member of his gang. He saw how you were thrown over his shoulder, head hanging upside down, hair cascading down halfway to the floor. He huffed in anger, looking around for backup, ready to stop him, but when he saw the man smack your ass and feel up your dress, he lost it. He smashed his glass of whiskey onto the nearest counter, glass shattering as he did so.

He immediately pushed past the people around him, trying to get to you. His head tilted slightly down, eyes locked on his target, a few meters ahead. He looked psychopathic in all honesty. His bangs covered his forehead and eyes slightly. With his head tilted down, he was able to cover up his deadly eyes and killer expression. He couldn't care less about the people around him at that moment, his only concern was teaching that guy a lesson for messing with his gang.

He pushed past some people, shoving a couple of guys on the way until he was about halfway there. He was ready to just fully commit and barge across another load of people before he was interrupted.

"Uhh Hwa? What are you doing? Why do you look like you're about to kill someone?" He heard someone next to him say. He whipped his head to the side, ready to punch whoever it was that came in his way, before realizing it was San

"Because that's exactly what I was about to do, before you came in my way, now move." San shivered at his tone. Never had Seonghwa ever commanded San in such a way. Sure Seonghwa had been angry a lot in the past, but his frustration this time seemed more emotionally fuelled.

"No, no, no, that isn't a good idea, how about we think about this for a secon-"

"I SAID MOVE! Can't you hear me?" Seonghwa growled as San violently flinched at his loud tone.

"Why what's so urgent, is everything alright?" San inquired, straightening his clothes a bit, and regaining his composure.

"I'm not obligated to tell you that" Seonghwa finally said, before shoving San out of the way and walking towards the direction the man was walking before. What he didn't realize though, was that in the time it took him to talk to San, the man had seemingly disappeared.

"What's wrong?" A voice from beside broke him out of his thoughts.

"Look what you've done, I lost the man now" Seonghwa replied, massaging his temple, trying to calm his frustration.

"What man?"

"Someone threw the girl- Y/n over his shoulder and took her to one of the back rooms" He claimed, gripping the bridge of his nose in annoyance. San's eyes widened and he gasped. He knew you were up to something tonight but was this a part of your plan?

"What?" Was the only thing he could muster. He wanted to ask why, where, and how you even got in that situation, but he was too stunned.

"Not only that, he had the guts to slip his hand under her dress and feel her up, not to mention inappropriately grab her and spank her" He sighed, beginning to look around again. San gasped and immediately began frantically looking.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier" He panicked, looking around, running towards the backrooms trying to find you. He didn't doubt that you could defend yourself, but what if someone did drug you. He knew you knew better than to accept drinks from strangers and were always cautious, but he couldn't help but worry. His breath quickened and he began pacing around frantically.

"Calm down, we'll find her" He felt a pat on his shoulder, reassuring him. He let out a sigh, before nodding and continuing to look around.

"Why does this girl mean so much to you anyway?" Seonghwa dared to question, voice slightly laced with a negative tone. Was he shaming him, threatening him, genuinely curious, or maybe even slightly jealous of the way you were able to bond so easily?

"You don't even know the half of it."

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Meanwhile, the man had dragged you into one of the rooms in the back, locking it before, dropping you on the bed. Your legs dangled off the bed as he slowly approached you. He unfastened his belt and slowly pulled it through the belt loops. Through the corner of your vision, you were able to see exactly what he was doing and you knew where this was going.

He dropped the belt and slowly climbed on the bed, hovering over your legs. Meanwhile, your fists clenched unconsciously, head slowly turning away from him as he approached you. You really didn't want to do this, but you had no other choice. You had to keep him occupied for another hour or so and you had no clue how else to. You couldn't poison him or knock him out as you had no clue what tracking devices he could have had on him. Your jaw tightened and your hands unconsciously gripped at his shirt, subtly trying to push him away. Feeling some rustling from underneath, he looked down at your hands and noticed you pushing him away.

"Aw, honey there's no need to be scared" He whispered and you internally sighed.

"I never got your name, by the way, I bet a pretty face like this has a pretty name too..." He whispered into your ear from above.

"Y/n" You weakly grumbled.

"Yours?" You dared to question him back.

"Jungwoon, but I doubt you'll remember it tomorrow," He said, caressing your face. You sighed and realized he was right, you had to act as nothing had happened.

You shouldn't be able to even remember that his name was Jungwoo- Wait. His name is Jungwoon. Jungwoon? That wasn't the name you were told earlier when you were informed of the mission. Unless you got the wrong person... Your eyebrows furrowed unintentionally as you tried processing the information.

"Why? surprised honey? I'm second in line to the Kwon empire, brother of the infamous mafia boss, CJ Kwon" He said snickering a little. What an idiot, he just admitted his identity and now you confirmed your suspicions. You got the wrong fucking person.

You scoffed realizing your mistake, and he simply looked at you, confused. You shoved your knee in his groin, as you lifted yourself upright. He flew backward slightly at the impact, feet back on the ground as he tried regaining his composure.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? How aren't you out?" He questioned, still bent over, clutching his sensitive area. You just ignored him, standing up and tilting your head to the side, trying to figure out what you were going to do. The whole reason you couldn't knock him out was because of any tracking devices he might have had. Now knowing he was the son of a big Mafia empire, you had to be careful.

"Okay I mean no harm, I don't want to hurt. You're a trash person, but I still don't want to get into any trouble, so if you could excuse me" You raised your hands, trying to get out of the room as soon as possible. He made it quite difficult for you though, as he pulled out a gun from one of his back pockets, aiming it at you.

"Absolutely not! You're a crazy lady and you attacked me, I can't let you go" He aimed the gun right at your chest as you raised your hands above your head. You slowly started walking towards him, but he cut you off.

"Don't come any closer!" He gripped the gun harder, finger on the trigger. You examined his posture and the way he was holding a gun, for some indicator or weak spot. You looked at his fingers and then the gun. Aha!

"You leave me with no choice, I wasn't going to hurt you, but seeing as you're literally pointing a gun at me, I can't help it." You sighed, hands dropping to your waist, as you looked him dead in the eye.

"I'm gonna shoot you first, you crazy bitch." He huffed, readjusting his stance, now aiming the gun at your head.

"You see, the gun you're holding is a Kahr MK9-1, so the ejection port is visible. It isn't pushed back completely, meaning the gun is unloaded. Furthermore, the magazine release is triggered, meaning there aren't any bullets loaded either." You sighed, pressing your temples. His eyes widened as he pulled the trigger, only for a soft click to be heard. He removed the magazine, inspecting it, indeed, he forgot to load his gun.

"You're an idiot, you brought an unloaded gun, what good is that?" You scoffed, now walking towards him. You cracked your knuckles before raising an eyebrow at him. He backed up, a little scared of you now, you seemed to be well versed with guns and Mafias, you must have been a part of a gang. You were smaller than him, but we were aware that you could very well be capable of more.

"No, no, no, I'll let you go" He nervously said before gulping.

"Now what fun is that?" You said, tilting your head and snickering at him. He backed up into a corner of the room as you walked closer towards him.

"How does it feel huh?" You whispered as he looked down at you afraid for what was coming next.

"How does it feel to be backed into a corner? I bet it sucks, right? Well, that's what you've been doing to a bunch of innocent girls at the bar, so take this as a lesson before trying to pull something on anyone else next time." You sneered as he looked down at you blankly. His attitude and facial expressions were getting on your nerves so you decided to teach him a lesson.

You shoved your right arm into his jaw, with a clean uppercut. Shoving him backward as he stumbled, falling back into the wall behind him.

"Do you understand, you sick fuck?" You yelled as you grabbed the collar of his shirt. He nodded his head rapidly as he held his jaw in his hands. You just scoffed and left the room, head mildly aching from the idiot you just had to deal with.

As soon as you left the room, however, you remembered your mission. You panicked realizing you might have fucked up everything. You got the wrong person, meaning the real target was somewhere out there. You started brisk walking until you reached the main area, away from the backrooms. You fixed your hair quickly, trying to look for your target. Knowing what Jungwoon looked like, finding his brother, now shouldn't be too hard. You jogged through the crowd, looking around, scanning the place the best you could.

You looked back at the usual seating spot for your gang and realized it was practically empty. Your eyes widened as you quickly ran over to the seats there, looking for any familiar faces. You reached the area, noticing there were a few cigarette packets, vapes, and half-empty drink glasses, however no people in sight. You inspected the area, trying to look for any clues as to why and where they would have gone.

Sweat started collecting at the back of your neck, realizing this may have been your fault. It was your responsibility to occupy CJ tonight and you failed. What if he got to your gang? What if he had gotten to Seonghwa. You shakily sighed, a hand going up to your face to press your temples. You gulped dryly before thinking of a possible explanation. Your thoughts were cut short though, by a loud booming voice from behind you.

"Hands where I can see them bitch!"

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Meanwhile, Seonghwa and San were going crazy, trying to look for you. San was admittedly panicking more, while Seonghwa was mildly frustrated.

"Where is sheee?" San whined. By now he was starting to get genuinely worried. Of course, he believed you could take care of yourself, but the whole night you seemed extremely shady. You were hiding things from him and were pretending to be drunk. What if you got caught up in some dangerous schemes?

"Calm down, we'll find her, we just have to-" bang! Seonghwa started, only for him to be cut off by a loud bang. Both of them knew better, it was a gunshot. They exchanged knowing glances, before scurrying to their side of the bar. Although your safety was quite important too, it was Seonghwa's duty to make sure the rest of his gang was alright too.

With people screaming and running around, getting to where they wanted was a little harder. San roughly pushed through the crowd, while Seonghwa stayed a little more cautious, one hand clutching the gun in his back pocket.

"Move!" San roared at the passersby. His voice startled the people around, and they made way for them. San ran over to their usual corner, pulling a gun out of his pocket, firmly grasping it with both hands, holding it in front of him, remaining cautious. Meanwhile, Seonghwa, followed behind closely, running a hand through his hair, chains of his belt jingling as he paced around the area. San squinted, his gun still in front of him as he looked for the gang members. As soon as they reached their side of the club they realized what all the commotion was.

"Drop your weapon, let him go!" San yelled as he witnessed one of the members from an opposing gang hold a knife to one of the young spy's neck. He simply snickered, tightening his grip, the knife now cutting through the skin of his neck slightly as blood dripped down his neck. The young boy squirmed, only for the knife to dig deeper into his neck. He grunted, tears pooling in his eyes.

"What a fucking coward, going for the younger ones, eh?" Seonghwa growled, a dangerous yet playful tone to his voice. The growl was heard in his voice as it dropped in pitch and volume, deliberately trying to scare the man.

The man with the knife didn't budge, however, simply chuckling before, running the knife along the neck of the boy, cutting horizontally across his smooth skin. The boy cried, as his hands came up to grip the knife, only for him to feel lightheaded and nearly pass out. The rest of your gang members gasped, some even whimpering at the young boy's situation. The man with the knife looked back at your gang members as they looked helpless. They couldn't do anything, they knew if they did, he would cut the boy's neck cleanly in half. He looked back and deeply chuckled before refocussing his attention on the two men in front of him.

As he looked ahead though, he realized they were nowhere in sight. He looked around only to be greeted by a cold hard piece of metal pressing against the side of his head.

"I said let go" Seonghwa grumbled lowly, his voice deathly commanding and serious. The man gulped, looking at the gun pointed at his head, through the corner of his eyes. Before Seonghwa could fire his shot, however, a strong pungent smell spread across the room, he furrowed his eyebrows as he heard coughs and whimpers.

"Not so fast, Park" He heard someone snicker. He noticed how San, who was standing right in front of him, began to stumble, gripping onto a chair next to him. It must have been poison or some sort of toxic gas. Seonghwa felt the room spinning, his vision getting blurry as he looked around at his gang members coughing and clutching their stomachs.

"Cover your mouths and noses" He tried to warn them, only for it to come out as a bare whisper. He looked around, most of the members now passing out. He saw San, clutching his stomach, before looking up at him. His eyes fluttered as they got droopier. San simply grunted in pain before mumbling a soft 'sorry' and passing out, his head falling straight to the floor. Seonghwa felt helpless, he tried resisting it, but everything in his body burned. His throat burned and his ears rang.

He clutched his ears, a loud ringing noise making its way to his ears, overwhelming his senses. He let out a gasp, feeling breathless as his trachea burned. His eyes soon fluttered shut as he tried gripping onto the last strings of hope, before succumbing to the poison and passing out...

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"Hands where I can see them bitch!" A loud noise made its way to your ears. You slowly raised your hands as you slowly turned around. Behind you was probably your worst nightmare. Most of your gang members had passed out cold, behind the man. Some of them even tied up to chairs. San, Seonghwa, Ashe, and a young boy were tied to chairs, while the rest were still on the ground. You looked up at the man in shock, your eyebrows furrowing as your tried to process the situation. His face resembled Jungwoon's so there was only one logical explanation, this was his brother, CJ, the man you were after all along.

"Is this some sort of sick game to you?" You dared to question, walking closer to the man. He simply chuckled at you, firing the gun in your direction. It didn't seem as if he tried to kill you, although he aimed for the top of your shoulder, the bullet grazing your acromion. You screamed in pain, crouching down, your hand instantly flying to your shoulder. Albeit a mere flesh wound, it managed to dig quite deep, leaving a deep open would. Blood gushed through the wound as you pressed harder, trying to stop the blood flow.

"Well, it could be if you wanted it to be" He claimed, laughing at your situation. You looked up at him from the floor, shooting daggers with your eyes. He chuckled as one of his members passed him a water bottle. He snickered, before opening it, taking a sip, and clearing his throat. You furrowed your eyebrows, how was he so relaxed, the fate of an entire mafia gang was in his hands.

He chucked half the bottle into Seonghwa's face, and then another quarter into San's. He threw the bottle into some distant corner and yanked at Ashe's hair. Meanwhile, Seonghwa gasped, regaining consciousness, which must have only been a temporary toxin. His hair was wet, water dripping down his bangs, as they fell over his face. He glared daggers at the guy, before trying to get up, only for him to realize he was tied up. He struggled in the ropes, the rough edges, digging into his silky smooth skin.

San had also regained consciousness, gasping as coughed and choked. He blinked realizing the situation he was in. He looked around, noticing Seonghwa, and Ashe, and the other younger boy, as well as the rest of his gang members, and then finally you. His eyes widened as he struggled to try to free himself.

"Y/n?! You're okay?!" He questioned, sighing in relief as he finally found you. His relief was only short-lived, however, as he noticed you clutching your shoulder. He noticed the dark red stains on your hand and neck, a pool of blood on the floor, dripping from your shoulder down to your elbow and onto the floor.

"What did he- What did you- YOU BASTARD! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO HER, LET HER GO!?" He yelled, tugging on his ropes. He didn't care about himself at the moment, only what happened to you. You noticed how he started pulling harder, the ropes now digging into his skin as he tried pulling out. His wrists were bruised as the soft skin of his arms cut due to the rough edges of the rope. Blood trickled down his arms as his arms got raw from the pulling and tugging of the rope.

"San-ah, don't resist, I'm fine" Your voice wavered, as you tried regaining composure. Seonghwa's eyes softened as he noticed the sheen of your eyes, tears collecting. He sighed, looking down, unable to look at your current state, you must have been in so much pain, both physically and emotionally.

"I-" You started, only for your voice to break, a strangled sob escaping. Seonghwa's head whipped up as he noticed how you squeezed your eyes shut, tears now falling down your cheeks. You bit down your lip, as your shoulders shook. Your head faced the ground but it was clear you were crying. Whimpers and sniffs echoed as members of the opposing gang simply laughed.

Seonghwa felt anger bubbling up, but he had to stay calm. Seeing you break down like this in front of everyone, evoked a feeling of fury and seething rage. He simply looked away, unable to take in the sight of you being so vulnerable. You had always been one of the toughest ones in the gang.

"Now, now, no need to cry honey" You heard CJ whisper. He roughly yanked Ashe's hair once more and you winced at the way her neck snapped to the side. She got up with a sharp inhale, and a loud groan as she tried to understand the situation. CJ walked closer to you, his hand gripping your chin, tilting it up towards him. Seonghwa grunted as he tried tugging harder at the ropes.

"Don't touch her, you son of a bitch" Seonghwa finally growled. His eyes glaring daggers at CJ. This was the first time you heard him speak tonight and it was a tone you weren't too pleased to hear. His voice had a slight rasp to it, voice lower than the deepest trench of the ocean. Water dripped down his face and neck, making the side of his face shine in the light. His dampened clothes clung to his body as his eyes glared through his bangs.

"Oh, don't worry, I won't have too much fun. Now, if you could please get up for me, my darling I have an important mission for you" He maniacally giggled. You mustered all the energy you had and pushed yourself onto your feet, one hand still clutching your shoulder. He handed you his gun and your eyebrows furrowed. He stepped back and you instantly took the chance to point the gun at him. Your breath quickened as you tried to calculate his next move, what on earth was he up to.

"ah-ah darling, it's not me you'' be shooting. It's one of them" He pointed behind him to your four other gang members tied up in chairs. Ashe gasped as she let out a strangled sob, San gasping as well, as Seonghwa simply sighed, taking in your expression. You looked blankly back at him as you readjusted the grip on your gun with your wounded arm.

You shifted your gaze behind him, only to notice, four other men, standing behind the chairs, a gun pointing to each of their heads. "Shoot anyone else, and a bullet goes through all their skulls... that wouldn't be a pretty sight, would it?" He claimed, laughing at his own crazy scheme. By now Ashe was crying hysterically and you couldn't help but feel emotional too. You tried looking away, knowing the second you would look into any of their eyes, you'd break down. You roughly wiped at your nose, nodding, agreeing to his terms.

"I love a game of Russian roulette." You sniffed, chuckling sarcastically.

"May I spin the barrel?" You asked innocently and CJ simply chuckled loudly.

"I knew you had it in you!" He laughed, roughly patting your back. You rolled your eyes before inspecting the gun a bit. You opened the barrel, realizing there was only one bullet, he must have known when the first bullet would go off. You internally smiled realizing you had cracked the code.

You locked the barrel in place, before spinning it, the bullet clanking across the cylinder. Your arms shivered slightly as you raised the gun. Bingo! You were never one to be afraid when it came to guns. The shivering was an act. An act to shake the gun a little to hear where the bullet was clanking. You heard the clanking on the bottom of the barrel, realizing the bullet was going to fire on the 5-6 shot. Realizing it had already gone off once when CJ shot you, it was only logical that the bullet was in the 5th chamber.

You smiled before aiming the gun at San first. His eyebrows furrowed as he realized you were proceeding with this absurd plan. The moment he saw you smile, however, he knew you had everything under control. Besides, he trusted you. You winked at him, before placing your finger over the trigger.

"Just to clarify, If I shoot all of them once, you leave us alone? Whether one of them gets shot or not?" You spoke up, glancing from the corner of your eye.

"That is correct. Now, take your shot lady." You smiled back at him, before pulling the trigger while the gun was aimed at San. He flinched slightly at the noise but quickly covered up as a laugh erupted from him.

"This one got lucky... try the next one" CJ urged you. You rolled your eyes as you walked over to the unconscious boy. He looked young, maybe 16 or 17, and his neck was slashed, blood oozing from it at a slow rate. You quickly looked away and pulled the trigger. Despite knowing it wouldn't go off, you still had to act as if you were scared. Ashe yelped from next to the boy at the loud noise and Seonghwa sighed in relief.

"Well, well, well, I guess they both got lucky... How about your best friend now, you both seemed to be getting it on the dance floor no? It would be a shame for this epic love story to end so tragically." Ashe blushed a deep red as San chuckled from the side laughing quietly. You huffed in annoyance before pointing the gun at her. Her eyes filled with tears as she tried to speak.

"Y/n, if this gun goes off right now, just know that I forgive you, it's not your fault, no matter what-"

"Shut up Ashe" You yelled. The last thing you needed was a sad emotional goodbye, as you knew the second you saw her cry, you would too.

"No! Listen to me, never for a second think that you're responsible for any of this. I love you a lot, and I'm still mad at what you did back then, but it-" bang! Ashe squealed as the next gunshot went off. CJ's jaw dropped, another one was left unscathed. You winced slightly as she flinched. You didn't mean to be rude, but she was getting a little too sappy and you already felt terrible.

"You've been lucky so far, but it's a 1 in 2 chance now. Chances are, the legendary Mafia boss, Seonghwa Park will die, right here, tonight. Not just that, but to the hands of one of his most loyal members." He chuckled maniacally and you pointed the gun at Seonghwa. He gulped as he noticed your finger on the trigger, awfully close to pulling it. You looked straight into his eyes and could sense the fear in them. He gulped, eyes shifting around the room as his foot bounced impatiently.

You sighed, mouthing a "trust me" subtly, and smiling at him. His eyes widened as he realized you had planned this all along. You knew exactly when the bullet was going to go off. He should have known, besides you were the second-best with guns in the entire gang, of course, you would know. His eyes softened, as the corners of his lips tugged upwards.

You returned the smile and readjusted your stance. Meanwhile, CJ on the side had no clue what was coming. He believed with this next shot, the mafia boss of the Park gang would be dead, already coming up with plans to take over the empire.

You pulled the trigger and Seonghwa didn't even flinch. He simply chuckled deeply, before tilting his head back... that's how much he trusted you at that moment. CJ's jaw dropped. This wasn't the way it was supposed to go.

"ONE MORE!" CJ yelled at you as you flinched at the sudden loud voice. Seonghwa's eyes furrowed as he heard him. Your eyes widened as you processed the situation.

"I said one more! Take one more shot, or I'll drive a bullet through Park's head. I don't care who you shoot, but one of you is not going to leave alive today, and I will make sure of it." CJ grumbled, another one of his members passing him a gun. He pointed the gun at Seonghwa's head shoving it into his forehead. Seonghwa inhaled sharply before looking back at you, worried. It was obvious to everyone now that whoever you shot was going to die now. The last chamber had the bullet, so it would fire.

"Why do you care so much about someone dying today!" San yelled from the side.

"You took away one of my young hackers. You shot him right in the back. He's paralyzed now! FUCKING BASTARD SAN! I don't take such matters lightly, and for ruining his life, one of you is now going to pay with yours! I don't care who it is, one of you is going to die!" CJ yelled, gripping San's collar. He gulped realizing CJ found out about one of his missing hackers. Truth was, San helped him fake his paralysis to get him out of that vicious gang. He was now working for you, but CJ could never know that, or he'd go after the young boy.

"So it doesn't matter who I shoot?" You clarified, your voice shaking slightly to sell the act. CJ grinned from ear to ear, looking back and nodding smugly. Seonghwa looked at you with concern as he knew you were up to something. His eyes furrowed as you lifted the gun.

"What about this?" You asked, now pointing the gun directly at your chest. San gasped from the side, Ashe yelling at you to stop, while Seonghwa's eyes widened.

"I supposed that is acceptable too. Now get on with it!" He yelled as both the gangs waited for your next move. You took in a deep breath of air before pulling the trigger of the gun. You gasped at the impact, and fell to the ground, clutching your chest.

The next few seconds were a bit of a blur. Not from the actual shot itself, but the commotion around you. You heard the footsteps of the opposing gang members as they scurried out the club. You heard a bunch of cries and whimpers from presumably San and Ashe.

Your back made contact with the floor with a loud thud, as you winced from the pain. Seonghwa immediately felt a surge of urgency, as he tried breaking free from the ropes. He yanked as hard as he could, cutting through his wrists slightly, as the ropes snapped. His wrists were bloody and his arms were bruised all the way p, but he couldn't care less.

He roughly yanked at San's ropes, loosening them a bit, just enough for San to free himself. His breath quickened and his eyes widened as he approached you. He rushed over, immediately crouching down to your level. He sat down on his knees, desperately trying to hold you up. He shifted next to you and brought your head to rest on his lap. Your eyes fluttered shut, as his big arms cradled your face, holding your cheeks in each hand. His cut wrists, left a trail of blood, on the exterior of your face, your hair clinging to your face from the damp blood and sweat.

"No, no, no, you're strong Y/n, you're going to survive this" He whispered to you, his breath caressing your face as his shallow breaths continued. He must have really freaked out. He began lightly, tapping your face, shaking your head in his hands slightly. He, brushed your hair away from your face as his fingers rested on your temple. You heard him let out a whimper, as you felt a warm droplet fall onto your cheek. Wait... was he crying? It couldn't have been... The legendary Park Seonghwa crying over one of his members dying. What a sight. He shifted slightly, moving one of the hands that were cradling you to press at your chest. His large palm, pressed softly at your chest, rubbing against the bottom of your left breast. That's where you drew the line.

"Uh-uh, hands off me" You claimed, pushing past Seonghwa, trying to get up. His eyebrows furrowed as his eyes widened. You promptly stood up, as he remained seated on the floor, not understanding the situation. You walked over to the younger boy, untying him too, before grabbing a tissue, pushing at the large wound in his neck. You looked around, trying to find someone to help you, and looked at San. His eyes were wide as he was frozen in place.

"Stop staring and come help me, you ass!" You yelled, ushering to come over. He quickly rushed over, before cupping your cheeks.

"I thought you were going to die..." His voice broke, as you scoffed.

"Come on now, I wouldn't leave you that easilyyy" You whined before guiding his hand to the boy's neck.

"Hold it in place, we need to get him medical attention quickly, or he might bleed out." You passed him the tissues, before walking to untie Ashe. As soon as her wrists and arms were untied she pounced on you. She engulfed you in a hug, sobbing into your shoulder.

"You dumb bitch" She cried into your shoulder, as you patted her head, cradling her face. She pulled away and you looked down feeling guilty.

"I know, I'm sorry" You whispered out, only for her to scoff, before pulling you into another bone-crushing hug. You winced in pain, as your shoulder was hurting quite a bit. You simply resorted to rubbing her back for now. Your little moment was broken by a small cough heard from the ground. You looked down, only to notice, Seonghwa was still sitting on the floor, eyes wide, as he tried processing what was happening.

"Mr. Park... You're uh, still on the floor..." He looked right into your eyes, his eyes narrowing as he pushed himself up to his feet, walking towards you. He looked down at you as you tilted your head up, making direct eye contact.

"Firstly, I am touched and flattered that you cried for me, who would have thought..." You said, more to yourself, as Seonghwa brought his hands to his face, touching under his eyes. He realized his cheeks were wet with tears, as he roughly rubbed at them, sniffing and scrunching his nose.

"Secondly, that was inappropriate, dude! You can't just go around groping women you know?" You yelled as his eyes widened. You pointed back at your chest, indicating where he had tried pressing before. You knew he was trying to prevent, possible bleeding, but you couldn't help but tease him a little. He refocussed his attention to your chest, staring at the hole in your dress.

"Eyes up here buddy" You caught his attention. He scoffed, before bringing you into a hug. Engulfing your smaller body in his larger build.

"Ow! my shoulder, be careful, Park!" You scowled as he pulled back.

"Y/n what the fuck? You're supposed to be dead" He finally said, before bringing his hands, to your shoulder, to inspect the wound.

"Actually no" You pulled back, pulling the neckline of your dress down. His eyes widened as a blush grew on Seonghwa's cheeks. You flipped the top of your black lace bra outwards showing a navy blue thicker lining underneath.

"Bulletproof lining, I managed to push it up from my stomach to my chest when I uh, broke down" Seonghwa sighed, pressing his temples.

"You weren't crying?" He asked, a hand cupping your cheek as he spoke.

"Well no, it was a distraction, to bend over and push up the lining to my chest. The tears from before as well, they were fake too, sorry San, I had to sell my act..." You mumbled but San still heard. He scoffed as he walked towards you.

"I figured as much" He smiled back at you.

Seonghwa tightened his grip on your jaw as he realized something. You gasped as you tried pulling away.

"You knew what was going to happen? Why the fuck didn't you tell me?" He said a little louder. You didn't budge, knowing what you did was right.

"Because! If I were to tell you, you would have brought around 20 other bodyguards accompanying us. Besides this wasn't even the original plan... I was supposed to sleep with CJ, distract him for the night so he couldn't carry out his plan. Turns out I got caught up with his brother and had to... deal with him first." Seonghwa loosened his grip on your jaw before sighing, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear.

"Regardless, I'm proud of you, you know? You outsmarted them all and saved our lives. I owe you thanks." He said before stepping back. You felt dampness on the side of your head. Realizing it was blood, you grabbed his forearm, before inspecting his cuts and bruised wrists.

"Why did you do this to yourself?" You scoffed, before, walking over to get him a tissue to wipe the dried blood for now.

"For you, Y/n... I thought you were dying..." He sighed as gripped onto the base of your dress.

"So what? It's a part of the job. I knew what I was signing up for. I very well knew that death was a possible risk. Besides, why care about me so much? I'm rather expendable actually." You said matter-of-factly.

"No, you're not. Never feel like that. You mean a lot to the gang, a lot to me. Even though we don't interact often. I know how much you do for the gang, how much work you put in for everyone." He said, looking at you sincerely. You smiled back at him softly, booping his nose, turning on your heel.

"Let's get cleaned up shall we?"

[whispering-about-loki]

A Little theory regarding the Loki series

Warning! Image-heavy!

I am going to preface this by saying that this won’t happen. Well, maybe it won’t. Most of it won’t. Maybe some of it will. So SPOILER warning, in case it does. 

I’ll put some of my thought process in a note at the end.

---------

After Loki is arrested and brought before court to be charged for his part in certain time crimes, Mobius M. Mobius takes him “somewhere to talk”. He shows Loki snippets of how his life would have gone if he hadn’t skipped out with the Tesseract, then he tells him that he needs his help. Someone has been causing changes throughout history, making a myriad of variant timelines. Mobius believes that someone is taking advantage of their position in the TVA to cause this chaos; but his superiors refuse to believe that any of their ranks would behave in such a manner. So Mobius figures that if you want to handle chaos, you need to embrace chaos, and without consulting his superiors about it, he offers the God of Mischief a deal: help him find and bring back the rogue agent, and Loki will get his freedom. 

It is, of course, against the rules; but Mobius is willing to bend the rules a bit, if it means ending the time incidents. Loki agrees, thinking he will be able to use the situation to escape. But Mobius understands Loki’s thought process and warns him that if he strays from his assignment, he will be brought right back to the TVA. Loki being Loki, though, does try to skip out; but after he is zipped right back to the TVA a couple times, he doesn’t try it again.

Loki then does what he agreed to, slipping through time with Mobius and looking for the cause of the chaos. Disconcertingly, though, Loki’s power and strength begin to diminish, to the point where simple attacks he should have been able to easily counter are enough to take him down. Mobius says he doesn’t know why it is happening.

After a while Mobius's superiors suspect he is up to something, so he begins sending Loki out on his own, staying behind at the TVA to keep the others off his trail. Loki still doesn't like being in someone's "servant", and he resents being kept on such a tight temporal leash; but he continues reporting back to Mobius. While on assignments, Loki occasionally ends up preventing disasters that the “Agent of Chaos” had set in motion; though he also can’t help but make some “small” changes to the timeline, himself.

Mobius tells him to be more careful, or he might cause unforeseen effects. When Loki scoffs at this, Mobius asks him if he wants to see the world where he “won” the battle of New York. Mobius doesn’t wait for Loki’s answer, but immediately ships Loki off to an apocalyptic-looking New York City. When Loki gets there, the air is cold to the point where he can see his own breath, and it is utterly silent. A result, it appears, of not only the Chitauri attack, but of the bomb that the Humans used to try to wipe out the invading army. Apparently, the only ones that got wiped out were the Humans -- Avengers and all.

Loki wanders around the desolation for a while, until he is at last found by a roving group of ragged men. They seem to recognize him and he is brought to the leader of the city, who happens to be himself. Boss-Loki has gone a bit around the bend, though. He has been stuck in this place for years since the attack, and has carved himself out a little “kingdom” in the ruins, based in an old arcade. Our Loki is shocked and almost disgusted to see how far he has fallen. When Boss-Loki’s men turn on him because of this other Loki’s presence, though, our Loki gets caught up in the fighting. He calls out to Mobius that he has made his point, and to get him out of there.

Loki goes on doing his “job” then, being more careful with time. At long last, he finds a strange object at the scene of one of the chaotic events, and he brings it back to Mobius, who recognizes it as something he had taken from one of the young agent recruits, a girl named Sylvie. Mobius explains that some of the agents in the TVA are clones (like himself), but that some are recruited at a young age by the TVA because they show special abilities. Sometimes these recruitments occur from outside the main timeline, which is where they found Sylvie. Not only was she a gifted individual, but the TVA records showed that she should not have existed in the first place; so they took her in to train her, and also so that her presence would not disrupt the flow of time. 

Mobius and Loki go to confront her in her room, but she is gone. Mobius feels responsible because it was he that “recruited” Sylvie. Additionally, he knew that she had a habit of slipping through time on “joy rides” and coming back with souvenirs, which was strictly against the rules. She always seemed innocent, though, so he went easy on her about it. Hidden in a drawer in her room, they find other “souvenirs”, and Loki notes that some of them have Asgardian runes on them. Mobius says that Sylvie is human, according to her genetic code, so he doesn’t understand what she is doing with the runes. 

As they ponder the meaning of this, an alarm sounds in the TVA headquarters, and they know something terrible is happening in some variant timeline. They leave Sylvie’s room to try to get to the portals to take them to the time-incident; but on the way, some TVA agents try to stop them. They claim that Loki is the rogue element that has been causing all of the chaos, and that he needs to be “erased” as soon as possible. 

Mobius pretends to be on the agents' side, then sets them off-guard so Loki can get to the scene of chaos. After fighting his way through the Minutemen that are guarding the portals, Loki arrives when/where Sylvie is--at a quarry mine--the moon is shattered and the fragments are falling to the Earth. 

Loki runs to get to safety, and the ground opens up as the mine before him collapses, blocking him off from the now-adult Sylvie, who is staring up at the falling moon. She turns and looks at him just as the ground completely falls out from underneath him.

Suddenly the world around him stills and he lands hard on the ground. He struggles to his feet and looks up to see that everything has frozen around him. As he is standing there, gaping in disbelief, he turns and sees Sylvie standing beside him. She is wearing clothing very similar to his old Asgardian outfit, and she is smiling at the destruction and chaos before them.

“Hello, Father,” she says. “Have I made you proud?”

-------

-------

Notes: 

SPOILERS below.

My main thought was that since Cailey Fleming is listed as playing “Young Sylvie”, that would imply the presence of an older Sylvie. Otherwise, she would have been listed as “Sylvie”. Sylvie Lushton being the girl that Loki, in the comics, empowered and/or created, and who later became a version of Enchantress. 

That is who I think Sophia Di Martino is playing as an adult, rather than Lady Loki, like I used to think. Her hair is the wrong color to be Loki, for one thing; and she has been shown filming in the same location as Tom Hiddleston, who was wearing an Agent outfit at the time. I’m not gonna put the set photos here, but you know the ones... the pictures where she is wearing just about the same outfit as Loki has in the past. And we know that this character is the one that is causing the chaos, because in those set photos she is wearing a certain pair of boots and fingerless gloves, both of which are freeze-frame bonusses on the “mystery figure” in the trailer (when she drops the lantern and lifts her hands to her hood).

I’d also like to point out that she is wearing what appears to be a sword on her hip:

Anyway, I figure it goes something like this: 

Sylvie exists because another version of Loki had adopted her when he discovered that she had talents close to his own. He had begun training her how to use magic; but he was not so good a teacher as Frigga was, and the training was complicated by her wily and independent nature. Loki in that timeline died, though, leaving Sylvie alone. 

The TVA (specifically, Mobius) took her in, but because of her abilities, she was naturally able to slip through time, create illusions, age herself up and down, etc. Eventually, she decided she would “make her father proud” by sowing chaos. The thing is, she has grown stronger and more chaotic since Loki showed up at the TVA, because she has been inadvertently drawing his power and life force from him -- basically depowering him to charge herself up (c’mon... he gets laid out by a Roomba...). In fact, the draining of his life-force was what killed her “father” in her own timeline, though she didn’t know it.

Additionally (and on another note), the Loki series is said to be a “crime thriller” with sci-fi aspects; so while Loki tracking down a rogue time-agent seems to be a pretty straightforward idea, it could be given a nice twist at the end by having the rogue element not be an agent, but someone of Loki’s own making. And it would be one hell of a cliffhanger for the next season.

And... that’s all I got for now.

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Dead Man’s Cell Phone--Prologue

Summary: When Emma Swan starts getting phone calls and texts from an unfamiliar number, she decides to check it out--only to discover the number belongs to a Killian Jones, who was killed in a robbery gone wrong six months ago.  With some help from a medium, Merlin Emrys, Emma hopes to find out why a dead guy is contacting her--and why she feels such a strong pull to someone she has never met before.

Rating: K+

Other Chapters: 1 2 ​3 4 Epilogue

Welcome to my entry for the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer! A big thank you to @cssns, the ladies on the Discord!  Thank you also to @eastwesthomeisbest, my artist and my beta @veryverynotgood!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Killian Jones took a deep breath, noting the salty tang of the sea breeze.  The scent brought him comfort, a balm to his wounded soul.  Some of his most treasured memories involved holidays to the sea with his mum.  He remembered something his mum said to him on one such holiday ages and ages ago when he was naught but a tiny lad of four or five.

“You feel things so deeply, Killian,” she’d said, stroking his hair.  “When you love, you love with your entire being.  It’s a beautiful thing, and those you love are lucky indeed, but be careful.  There will be heartache in your future, and when you lose someone you love, I fear it will hit you harder than most.”

He’d learned the truth of her statement less than a year later when she had succumbed to a fast moving, particularly virulent form of cancer.  He’d been inconsolable for weeks, unable to understand why his mum had left him.

But life had gone on, and like many children, he’d proven to be resilient, turning to his older brother, his hero, Liam for help and support.  He thanked the gods every day that Liam had never left him--either willingly like his deadbeat father or through death like his mother.

Love was rather rare in Killian’s life.  He’d taken his mother’s words to heart, only giving his heart when he felt it was in safe keeping.

That was, until he met Milah.

She was beautiful, vibrant, full of life--and unfortunately quite married.  Liam had warned him against getting involved with a woman who wasn’t free to give him her heart, but Killian was snared before he even fully understood what was happening.  He had fallen hard and he had fallen fast, and he found he was helpless to resist the gorgeous woman who had captured his heart.

They were happy for a few months, so happy that they’d begun discussing forever.  Milah had sworn she’d leave her husband, that she wanted to be with him.  Killian had begun shopping for rings.

And then, as suddenly as it began, it all went to hell.  She’d come to meet him one night looking as grave and uncomfortable as he’d ever seen her.  

“Killian, I do love you,” she said, “but what we discussed in the past, I think we’ve always known they’re pipe dreams.  Robert’s my husband, the father of my son.  We were meant to be.  I’m sorry, but I have to end this now.  Robert got a new job across the country, and we both think it’s the perfect opportunity for us to make a go at this, to start fresh.  I’m sorry, but this is goodbye.”

It hit him hard, so hard it felt like there was a physical weight on his chest.  How did one pick up the pieces of their heart when it had been shattered into a fine powder?  Liam had tried to be supportive, he really had, but Killian had known it was always on the tip of his tongue to tell Killian “I told you so.”

After a couple months of misery, Killian decided he’d had enough.  He needed a change, even if it was no more than a few weeks’ vacation.  And so he’d packed up and taken the first flight he could arrange from his home in England to the States.  He’d rented a car and simply begun driving, deciding not to stop until he found somewhere that might offer him peace.

He found it in the small, quaintly named seaside town of Storybrooke, Maine.  There was such a magical feel about this berg.  It was a place he could perhaps run into that peace he’d been sadly lacking since…

Killian stopped abruptly as he collided with something, someone in front of him.  He heard a swift, harsh, feminine curse, and looked up to find himself face to face with the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen - riotous blonde curls pulled up into a high ponytail, green eyes, currently narrowed in anger, a red leather jacket over a white tank top. Her jeans were so tight to her slim figure they looked painted on.

For a long moment, Killian could do nothing but stare, open-mouthed at the vision before him, so gobsmacked he could barely remember his own name.

The woman growled in frustration as she looked down at the grocery bag she’d dropped upon impact.  “Seriously?” she asked.  “You’re just gonna stand there like an idiot?”

Killian shook his head as he came back to himself, his cheeks reddening at his rudeness.  “My apologies, love,” he said, stooping down to gather up the spilled contents of her bag.  “It appears I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

“You think?” she retorted with a roll of her eyes.  

For a moment the two worked together while Killian desperately wracked his addled brain for something--anything--to say that might allow him to remain in this woman’s presence longer, but he was coming up blank.

“Well….thanks for your help,” she said finally, when the groceries were back in their bag.

“Thanks for letting me help,” he replied rather lamely.

“Yeah, well maybe next time you might pay a little more attention and avoid this kind of situation altogether,” she suggested as she pushed past him and quickly disappeared from his sight.

She might have disappeared from his sight, but she most assuredly did not disappear from his mind.  Thoughts of the beautiful blonde followed him through the streets of Storybrooke as he made his way closer and closer to the beach.

So consumed was he with his chance encounter that he didn’t even realize he’d wandered into a seedy part of town until he heard the sounds around him.

The sounds of an altercation.

Killian looked up to see several big, burly men brutally beating a man with black hair and blue eyes.  The man fought valiantly, but it was at least six to one.  He didn’t stand a chance.  Killian fished his cell phone from his pocket, intending to call the authorities, get some help, but he knew the victim before him didn’t have time to wait for police to arrive.

Killian had to intervene.

He charged into the fray, pulling first one, and then another ruffian from the man being beaten, but his efforts seemed to have no effect on the attackers.

No effect, that is, save to divert some of their wrath toward him.  Killian grunted as the first blow landed on the side of his head, and he dropped his phone to the ground.  He fought back with everything in him, pleased to note he’d gotten in a fair few punches of his own, but it soon became obvious that he was hopelessly outmanned.

Sometimes retreat was one’s only option.

Killian turned, hoping to find help for himself and for the other victim, but he’d only made it a few steps when he felt a sharp pain to the back of his head...and then everything went black.

 Notes:

--Hi there and welcome to my story for the 2021 CSSNS!  This story was kind of inspired by an experience I had.  Most of the time if I get a phone call from a number I don’t recognize, I just let it go to voicemail, figuring if they really want to talk to me, they’ll leave a message (and if they’re a telemarketer...they won’t).  One day I got a message from an unknown number, and they did leave a message.  The message was basically nothing but dead air.  For some reason, I decided to try to find out who the number belonged to, and I came to find out the number belonged to someone who had died six months ago.  Now logically, that probably means someone else has the dead guy’s cell phone now, but it brought up the possibility of a new story.  What if Emma got a phone call from Killian Jones, who she finds out died several months ago...and it isn’t a mistake?  Thus this story was born.

--This story has 4 chapters plus this prologue and epilogue, and the good thing is that it’s already completely written.  This means I can set (and stick to) a posting schedule!  I plan to update this story every Wednesday and Sunday until it’s finished.

--Up next:  Emma gets a strange phone call from an unknown number.  What she finds out about it leads her on a journey that will completely change her life.

                                                                                       Next Chapter-->

[ironlime]

60 Years After

So somebody in the tumblrverse posted about their headcannon in which Ned Coats was Sam Vimes' kid having traveled through time. I am a fan of this. It explains a lot. So when I read it back in... April? I then sat down and wrote up this little fanfic thing. And assumed that I could not only get it posted today, but also edit it so that it's not filled with so many of my own headcannons. And is closer to the original material. But L-Space is my job, and it really does do crazy things to time (and space.) On top of that I was really hoping I could post this to that original headcannon post but... I can't find it. So, OP, if you come across this... Well, I'm sorry. I'm more sorry to Sir Terry (GNU), though.

Quick note: my friends and I have found it easier to call Vimes' kid "Wee Sam" than "Young Sam" because "Young Sam" is one of the names (along with Vimesy and Lance Constable Vimes) that Vimes calls his younger self and... yeah. We find it confusing when nerding out about a single series with two different characters called 'Young Sam'. So we Feegle it up. Even though I wouldn't be surprised if 'Wee Sam' is actually a bit taller than his dad.

~ ~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~

“What happened just then, Sarge? You blurred.” Wee Sam said, while he thought Oh so that’s what that looks like.

“You only get one question, Ned,” The man who would be his father looked a little seasick, and Wee Sam knew exactly how he felt. “Now, let’s show Snapcase where the line’s drawn, shall we? Let’s finish it--”

To the majority of people there that day, Sergeant-At-Arms John Keel stood, turned towards the enemy, and charged. To two people, Commander Sam Vimes ran towards Carcer, ready to drag him kicking and screaming into the past. Or the future. Depending on who you asked.

That was what gave Wee Sam his frame of reference, actually. He remembered hearing stories about Carcer, about how his dad had arrested the bastard the day Wee Sam was born. But was this actually May 25th for his dad? Was this weeks before the arrest? Hours? He couldn’t ask. Not yet.

“Glad to see you’ve joined us and are getting along with the Sarge, Coats.” Fred Colon said, touching him on the shoulder as they ran towards the fight.

“Yeah, Fred.” Oh, Fred. Fred Colon had died a few years ago, happy and surrounded by great-grandchildren. But here and now he was young and actually capable of running. And he was running towards the fray.

Sweeper had told Wee Sam to stay away from the center of the fight, and to try not to actually kill anybody, so he stayed on the edge near the unconscious Lance-Constable Sam Vimes who had been hidden by his older, more cynical self. Three men in a battle with the same name, and two of them were the same person. Good thing Wee Sam was the only one who had to really keep track of which of them was where. He certainly didn’t trust anybody else to.

So he fought, in a very curbed way, knocking his adversaries unconscious when he could and doing his best not to step on Nobby Nobbs, who was doing his best to very slowly inch away from the battle while simultaneously pretending to be a corpse. Over by the Watch House, Reg Shoe was doing a much better impersonation of a corpse, seeing as how he was one, but in a couple of hours he’d discover that it just didn’t work for him.

“You’re nicked, my ol’ chum.” It was probably because he had been listening for it, but his father’s whisper carried. Nobody else seemed to hear it, and nobody but Wee Sam turned in time to see the two men vanish. In the same instant, a single body appeared on the ground near where they had been. So, now that he had seen that through, there was one more…

A dark grey-green shadow passed by his shoulder, and his mind registered Uncle Havelock before adding the word Young.

Havelock Vetinari ran into the fight, cutting down Carcer’s men much more brazenly than the Assassin's Guild would like, a lilac bud between his teeth. Even in Wee Sam’s time, when Vetinari’s wardrobe consisted entirely of black and everything he did was in moderation, the Patrician indulged in a little drama on a regular basis.

He chose to have Commander Sam Vimes in his life, after all.

There was a sound to Wee Sam’s left, which he recognized though his mind didn’t associate any words with it. It was a sound any human would recognize, even those who first approached the Delta where the Ankh River met the Circle sea thousands of years ago. If Wee Sam had to find Morporkain words for it, and as a Vimes he did like to use his vocabulary, they were Confused, followed by Hurt followed by… wait for it… there it was. Anger.

Wee Sam could make that noise, though he rarely did. His father’s upbringing, on the other hand, had been considerably less balanced. The kid who was the source of the sound ran into the center of the fight, and Wee Sam deftly stepped out of his way while pushing an adversary in his way. The boy chopped down the Unmentionable with one graceful movement, and Wee Sam felt that he could safely say that he hadn’t been the one to kill the bastard. And nobody had been so foolish as to tell him to prevent his father from killing anybody.

Vetinari didn’t pause, but he did turn to look at this vengeful newcomer. Vetinari hadn’t been there when young Sam Vimes participated in the first part of the battle, and Wee Sam recognized the young assassin’s look of interest.

Tell me, Uncle Havelock, will you recognize him in 15 years? Or will you need to get him well and truly angry to realize you’ve found him?

Wee Sam knew this wasn’t the first time Havelock Vetinari saw Sam Vimes, but this was probably the first time he saw the potential. That he was more than just That Kid Who Follows Keel Everywhere. I bet you didn’t actually expect him to be so damned smart. His father still didn’t think of himself as intelligent. It was infuriating, especially when he and his father were having a disagreement. A drawn out, decade-long, disagreement.

Young Sam Vimes sent a lot of the Unmentionables running, and Wee Sam cut down any of them which could be seen as ‘coming towards him with a drawn weapon’. Since they were escaping a fight, that was anyone who came within reach not wearing a lilac.

Time travel really can get to a man. He thought, feeling a little cold. There would be no arrests here, just death and fleeing and at the end of the day Sam Vimes, Havelock Vetinari, Fred Colon, Gaskin, and, less literally, Nobby Nobbs and Reg Shoe would all be left standing. That was all that mattered.

He saw Vetinari turn away from young Sam Vimes, who then spun, and for the briefest moment they had their backs to each other, and Wee Sam wished he had his paints. It was a gods awful place to paint, there was a reason battles were always ‘immortalized’ after the fact, but the color and everything was just perfect--

And then the color faded.

“You should have fallen by now.” Sweeper observed from behind him.

“I wanted to see them fight together.” Wee Sam admitted, not turning. He had a notebook on him, and a pencil, but he knew that even with Time paused he didn’t really have it. Not to sit down and do a proper preliminary sketch. He was just going to have to remember.

Vetinari had a stiletto, an assassin’s weapon used to kill up-close. Young Sam Vimes hadn’t learned to dual-wield yet, but he had good instincts for the sword. Wait until you discover the axe.

Sweeper sighed. “Fine, and now you’ve seen it. I’m going to put the time back on and you had better be prepared to drop.”

“Yes yes alright.” Wee Sam shifted slightly, so he could seriously inconvenience the man who he was blocking before he dropped.

“Oh and stop killing people.”

“I’m a Vimes. You knew that when you hired me.”

“Indeed.” Sweeper said, and it took Wee Sam a moment to realize it was an attempt at a Vetinari impression. Before Wee Sam could reply, the color came back, and his adversary frowned in confusion.

“Oi, you blurred!” The man cried.

“This just isn’t your day.” Wee Sam gave the man a wound which might heal, if somebody tended to it within the next 10 minutes, and then fell over in a needlessly complicated way, specifically so he wouldn’t hit Nobby Nobbs.

And when he landed, the boy was looking right at him, frowning. Damn, Nobby was always the brains of Colon & Nobbs.

“You ain’t injured.” The boy hissed at him.

“Try to pick my pockets and you’ll regret it.” Wee Sam whispered back. Of course he wouldn’t dream of hurting Nobby, but the kid didn’t know that. Besides, picking the contents of his pockets back would be a relaxing way to end the day.

Nobby was still frowning at him. “You got eyes like the Sarge...”

“Nobby, get out of here before you get stepped on.” Wee Sam growled in his best imitation of his father, the Sergeant, within the past three days. The kid’s eyes went wide, and he took off running. Wee Sam glanced over to where Vimes and Vetinari were taking care of the last of Carcer’s men, and the color faded once more.

“I hope you are pleased with yourself.” Sweeper said, which Wee Sam took to mean he could stand up and dust himself off.

“Young Vimes and Vetinari live to grow up and become two of the most powerful men in Ankh-Morpork history, Carcer went back to his time more or less accompanied by my my dad so the one can be arrested by the other, your rogue ‘Time Vigilantes’ have been sorted out, oh and I don’t cease to exist either. My work here is d--” He stopped, and watched as Q and some other Technical Monks lay down a man about the same age, size and coloring as Wee Sam. “Wait, so there really was a Ned Coats?”

Sweeper had walked off without him, and Wee Sam jogged to catch up. The old monk didn’t turn to look at him when they were side-by-side, but he did start talking. “Of course there was. He was also from Psudopolis and knew the real Keel.”

“How’d he die?”

“The Agony Aunts, on his first day here. He was the real reason the real Keel accepted a job in Ankh-Morpork. The real Ned Coats was not a good man.”

“Keel... left his home to track down a criminal…” Wee Sam slowed. “That’s what my dad did! As Keel! Only, it was Carcer he had to catch.”

“Time likes continuity.” Sweeper nodded, and thanked Wee Sam quietly for holding the door open as they entered the monastery. Once in the building, color returned, with motion and sounds and smells. They were back in the Present.

The walk through the building was in relative silence, the rumbling of the procrastinators keeping it from ever becoming truly quiet here. Wee Sam could sleep almost anywhere, but the rumbling reminded him of the steam engines back home and Susan’s offer to help him find a job in Sto Lat ‘if he really couldn’t stay in Ankh-Morpork’.

Not long after his parents first met his dad had gotten fired for a couple of days, and his mom had offered to get him a job working for Susan’s parents. Susan had been young then, and sometimes he wondered what kind of person she would have grown up to be with his dad as part of her household staff.

Of course, with his parents living in two different cities, he would have never been born.

His mother would have never left Ankh-Morpork.

Then again, his father had chosen not to leave. He had stayed on the case. He… sorted it out, more or less. He kept Vetinari from getting killed. Had he done that during the battle? Young Sam and Vetinari had been facing opposite directions, had Vimesy blocked any blows aimed at the future patrician?

There was the crunch of stones under his feet, and Wee Sam consciously acknowledged they had arrived at the Garden of Inner-City Tranquility. His eyes swept the space, falling on and acknowledging the Cigarette Pack of Air, the Cat Doings of Disharmony, the Sonkie of Organic Harmony, the Cabbage Stalks of Dim Comprehension, the Discarded Fish-And-Chip Wrapper of Infinity, the Beer Bottle of Pissing Off Sweeper, and….

“The Cigar of Capriciousness is still here.” Wee Sam said, stopping between the door and the bench Sweeper always went to. He tilted his head slightly. “Or… Another cigar. Same brand, same style, smoked the same amount, probably by the same man, at the same angle... but it’s wrapped just a little differently.”

“Is it? I’ve stopped noticing.”

“You haven’t noticed the cigar that’s been smouldering here for the past month?” Wee Sam turned to Sweeper in disbelief. “I understand not paying attention to the condoms and cat doings, but time passes in here!”

Sweeper shrugged. “There is always a cigar. Even if we get rid of it, a new one shows up. If the new one lands closer to the wall, the garden always pushes it to the center.”

“Always? Since, what, the dawn of time?”

“Oh no. Since the day you were born. Or thirty years before. It’s hard to say.” Sweeper was looking at him evenly, and Wee Sam suddenly realized his reaction was being gauged.

“My dad. But…” Wee Sam looked at the cigar. “He doesn’t smoke them anymore.”

“He does. On special occasions.”

“Like what?”

“Your birthday. And when he pays certain visits.”

“He talked you into not keeping me on?” His gaze moved swiftly from the old man to the cigar, and with purpose he stalked into the middle of the garden and brought his foot back, prepared to give the thing a swift kick.

“You did that just fine without his help.” Sweeper’s voice was quiet, but it froze Wee Sam where he stood. “Corporal, we both know you don’t want to do this.”

“The mission is over. Coats is dead. I’m not a corporal anymore.” His foot fell heavily, not coming into contact with the cigar but still sending a spray of stones ahead of them. He scowled as they came sliding back towards him, settling where they had been around his foot. “This job is the closest I’ve ever gotten to what I was made to do.”

“I realize that. I’m sorry.”

There was some silence as the last of the stones slid into place. The procrastinators here were small, used only for the bathrooms in the far right corner, even though the city’s sewer pipe system now meant that they were just inconveniencing themselves in exchange for saving very little money. Wee Sam had done the math.

“Did you tell Susan?” Wee Sam didn’t want to be the one to tell her, but he also didn’t want anybody else to explain that he had squandered this opportunity.

“No. That is your problem, my boy.”

“Good.” Wee Sam squatted down, getting a closer look at his father’s cigar. The smell brought him back to his childhood, and it was comforting if not at all healthy. His mother had never allowed them in the house, but his father smoked them all the time outside and in his office, so the scent clung to his uniform like… Well like Wee Sam had back then. “Please don’t hold… me... against her. She was just looking out for me. She does that. Wish I knew why.”

“She is aware of your potential.” Sweeper said, and Wee Sam was so surprised he looked over his shoulder at the old man. “You’re good at investigating and putting the pieces together. And, some day, you will once again make a very good cop.”

“Someplace other than Ankh-Morpork.” Wee Sam grunted, but the old man shrugged, and he asked, hopefully “In Ankh-Morpork but in the future?”

“That is not for me to say.”

“No, it’s for my father to say.” He glared at the cigar, and then pushed himself to a standing position.

“You know, I didn’t just take you on because Susan asked and there happened to be another Vimes-shaped opening.” Sweeper said as Wee Sam turned towards the door.

“No?”

“I wanted to get to know the man the Theives Guild deemed ‘too dangerous’ for membership.” Sweeper sounded amused, and Wee Sam turned to look at him.

“I keep killing people. Assassin's school graduate, and all.” Wee Sam reminded him, but Sweeper waved the comment away.

“We both know neither of those things are relevant to today’s theive’s guild.” Sweeper shook his head. “Your father is afraid of you becoming him; and, well, so is everyone else. Vimeses walk in and take control. Especially under Vetinari’s influence.”

“And how do you know what my father is afraid of?” Wee Sam asked, narrowing his eyes. He was choosing to ignore the comment about Vetinari’s influence because it was true. After 300 years of cops and / or drunks it took Havelock Vetinari telling his father ‘not’ to investigate three deaths to bring his family name back to the list of the city’s gentry.

“You should ask him.” Sweeper did not ignore the narrowed eyes, but he did meet them evenly. “What he’s afraid of.”

Wee Sam turned towards the door, intending to stalk out, then thought better of it and spun so he was completely facing the old man. “You know what? I think I will.”

Then he ran, took a leap to place one foot on the bench beside Sweeper and jumped so his hands easily grasped the top of the wall. His own momentum brought him sideways, and he hurtled over the top. There was an alley on the other side, and he landed lightly. He was exactly where he expected to be, of course, and took off at a run towards the Cemetery of Small Gods.

And slowed to a walk before he reached the gates. It would not do for him to be out of breath when he arrived at the graves.

Twilight was falling, so his dad would be there, but so would Uncle Havelock and maybe Reg Shoe. Wee Sam was less concerned about how Reg saw him, especially now that he had seen Reg alive, but as far as his family was concerned he wanted to take steps towards appearing dignified. Even though they had known him his whole life, and knew better.

Sure enough, he passed Reg first. The Zombie was carrying a long-handled shovel over his left shoulder, and nodded in acknowledgement. Wee Sam managed to nod back before they passed each other.

He had expected Reg to recognize him. Reg had never noticed him behind the barricade, his father never noticed him behind the barricade, but Wee Sam had been playing Ned Coats for a full month before Sam Vimes had shown up as John Keel. Maybe Reg had never noticed that his father was Keel? How did Zombie memories work, anyway? Their brains certainly weren’t making new pathways… Did vampyre brains make new pathways?

This train of thought kept him pretty well occupied, along with the question of how he could politely go about getting some answers, when he noticed Uncle Havelock and his ‘cane’ striding silently towards him. A simple nod wouldn’t do.

“Good evening, Uncle Havelock.” Wee Sam called, since his mother had drummed into his head that you always greeted your superiors first. Admittedly, this sometimes meant that he approached his uncle with a question about what he would call the color of the sunset above a specific building at that exact moment, or if there was a poison which exploded in a particularly satisfactory fashion, but the patrician never complained. Nor did he complain if Wee Sam wandered in his office and started talking about alternative methods for coding clax messages or an unusual bird he had noticed riding the thermals above the University. And, thank gods, Havelock Vetinari knew that a formal greeting from Wee Sam Vimes meant that he didn’t want to talk.

“Happy Birthday, Wee Sam.” His uncle replied, “I trust you’ll be on time for dinner?”

Oh. That was a reminder. And a warning. “Thank you. Yes, we won’t be long.”

“Good. See you then.” The Patrician nodded, and then passed him.

“Yes.” Wee Sam muttered, and then reached for his pocket watch. When he pulled it out, he saw the time was all wrong and swore quietly. Well, from the graves he would be able to see the Tower of Art, and set his watch to the present. The battle of the lilac boys had been in the mid-morning, and it was most definitely not a quarter to noon.

John Keel’s grave marker was wood, and though it had been replaced often it had never been strong enough to support the weight of an average-sized man. Reg’s, on the other hand, was granite, and he apparently didn’t mind that Commander Sam Vimes leaned against it more and more every year.

Wee Sam didn’t make any noise, he never made any noise, but he could never sneak around his father. Commander Sam Vimes turned his head ever so slightly, and Wee Sam tooka good look at him.

Oh gods, he was so old. When had that happened? True, the last time he had seen his father he must have been about 50, but before that Wee Sam had spent three decades watching his father age and yet… It had never struck him so hard. He never could quite reconcile his memories of young Sam Vimes, that kid who had joined The Watch for three square meals a day and a little extra cash for his family. But he hadn’t thought his father had changed so much.

The old man looked him up and down. “How’d the battle go? After I left?”

Wee Sam stopped abruptly, and looked down at his outfit. He had forgotten to change into the clothes he had left at the monastery. This outfit was a uniform the Monks had given him, so he wouldn’t have the problems ‘accidental’ time travelers experienced with their clothes and meals and things staying in the time they came from. He even still had his lilac, somehow, even though that had come from the past.

“Don’t you remember?” You kicked ass.

His father shook his head. “I remember the original timeline, when Keel died at the barricade. I was pretty sure Coats wasn’t there.”

“Yeah, I don’t think he was, either.”

“I guess Vetinari showed up?” His father smirked. “Had a lilac in his teeth and everything?”

“I thought you didn’t remember it.” Wee Sam frowned.

“I don’t, but he tells me about it sometimes. I think he’s waiting for me to remember, or maybe now he’s wondering why I don’t.”

“Because time travel is a mess.” Wee Sam turned away from his father and looked across the city. He could see his family’s house from here.

“So Sweeper explained it to you?” The interest in his voice was practically tactile.

“No, but I had to run around for a month foiling somebody who had been sent to kill Havelock Vetinari. And it gave me time to wonder.”

“Why it was different the first time around?”

Wee Sam shook his head. “Would I have survived being born if you didn’t go back and meet Lawn?”

There was absolute silence between them, until Commander Sam Vimes quietly swore.

“Sweeper told me you have to think of things as one event in front of another, which is fine, except if you hadn’t gone back in time you wouldn’t have known Lawn was competent. You had heard of him, sure, but he would have never crossed your mind.”

“So we owe your existence to the damn time monks?” There was an angry edge to his father’s voice, but Wee Sam already knew his father was protective as hell. That was how he had gotten into this mess. Sort of.

“No. As far as I can tell, we owe it to some modern young idiots who thought they could go back and kill Vetinari. Time tries to fix things, and so you were sent back in time, to meet Lawn and Carcer went with you and killed Keel so there was a place for you to be and when you were done my life got saved and the monks were able to send me back to save Vetinari’s life and… Time is what it should be. Go us.” There was something about owing his life to terrorists that made him feel sarcastic.

“For all we know Vetinari or Rosie Palm might have recommended Lawn.” His father pointed out, which wasn’t a bad alternative. But it wasn’t what had happened, and there wasn’t really anybody they could ask. At least, nobody who they could ask who would give them a meaningful answer. They both knew Vetinari was a capable doctor, but apparently neither of them could imagine Vetinari getting involved in a problematic birth when there were other competent people around to do it.

More silence. Wee Sam noticed the time on the Tower of Art, and pulled his watch back out. If they were going to avoid talking about the massive argument they had that morning, he may as well take the time to re-set his watch.

“There was the sound of dice.” His father said so quietly that it didn’t initially register.

“Hm?” Wee Sam pushed the pin in, and watched with satisfaction as his watch and the tower struck the time at the exact same minute.

“Before the Library got struck by lightning. There was the sound of dice. Were the people who wanted to kill Havelock associated with a specific god?”

“I… Don’t know. They didn’t say anything about one.” He shut the watch, and shoved it in his pocket. ‘Havelock’ meant his dad was worried. “But there was a thunderstorm, right? Was the sound of dice rolling at the exact moment as the thunder?’

“Yes.”

“Io!” They both said it at the same moment, and Wee Sam felt his heart fall to his stomach. The self-proclaimed King of the Gods had been trying to subjugate their family for a long time. The only reason he had eased up lately was because Wee Sam had trained with the witches in Lancre. And so, to a lesser extent, had his father. It made them harder targets. But Io was still The Thunder God because he had murdered all the others. And then there was the question of who he would be forced to answer to. And how. Neither of the Vimes men had an axe sharp enough for that.

“Damn, why didn’t I realize that?” His father asked the night at large.

“The gods are always playing games. And besides, you had no reason to think Io was responsible for… Well he’s probably not responsible for the Dragon Incident, at least. Or the Goblin Incident.”

“Yeah, but we’ve been operating under the assumption that he was involved in that Dam Slam.” He was rubbing his thumb thoughtfully over the inside of his left wrist, where the Mark of the Summoning Dark had been. When Wee Sam was 8 it had changed, to a symbol generally called the Guarding Dark by anyone who cared to reference it. His father never talked about either Mark, but Wee Sam didn’t blame him. The Marks were indicative of 7 year period which did a number on his view of magic, and his identity.

Speaking of.

“I haven’t told Susan yet, but the monks kicked me out.” He tapped his toe against the grass, bringing it down as softly as he could so it wouldn’t damage the grass. Leggy would be so mad if he damaged his precious ‘terf’.

“Do you want to be a Monk?” His father asked quietly.

“No, I want to be a Watchman.” He whispered. Today was his 30th birthday, though technically he was a month older than that. He felt so much older than that. “But you’re apparently so terrified of me getting myself hurt that you’ve been doing Every Damned Thing you can think of to get between me and that and so I went ahead and tried to join almost any guild in the city and quite a few refused me and I’ve been kicked out of Each. And. Every. One. which would take me and now the only thing I can think of is taking Susan up on her offer to put in a good word for me with the Sto Lat Watch unless you’re going to step in and mess that up too and I wish you would knock it the hells off because as much as I love mum and her dragons I cannot spend the rest of my life working at the damn dragon sanctuary so--”

“Corporal.” His father’s voice was conversational, and somebody who had spent less time listening for the Commander’s voice probably wouldn’t have heard it.

“I’m not finished! Will you--” Wee Sam stopped abruptly. “Is that why you made me a Corporal? You couldn’t have recognized me. I hadn’t been born yet!”

“I recognized potential. And I was right, though you didn’t have as much control as I originally thought. Was all that sparring really necessary?”

“You’ve been standing between me and what I’ve been made to do!”

“And how would 50 year old me have known that?”

“It was easier to fight… him… than you.” Wee Sam grumbled, then realized he was starting to dig up the sod with his toe. Feeling bad about the grass, he brought his toe down in the other direction, to flatten it back down.

“Easier? I kicked your ass. I’d probably have a harder time of it now.”

“I never wondered if I should hold back.” Wee Sam admitted.

“Ah.” The 80 year old nodded. “I know that feeling. I’ve often wondered what it would be like if Vetinari and I had a proper fight when we were young.”

“You could sell tickets and solve all the city’s financial problems.” Wee Sam shifted his gaze to his father. “Actually you probably still could--”

“No. Your mother would have a conniption.”

“Oh right. Yeah, she would. Shame.”

“Do I want to know who you think would win?”

“No.”

“Your faith in me is staggering.”

“Well I figure either it would be a draw or he’d kick your--”

“Yes I understood your answer to my question, thank you.” But he was smiling ever so slightly.

And then the city’s clocks started chiming 9 in the evening. His father pushed himself slowly to his feet, and Wee Sam offered his arm. Cheery had offered to get his father an axe to use as a cane, but Commander Vimes would not hear of it. He did touch Wee Sam’s arm briefly, but once he was standing straight he let go, and the pair of them headed towards the exit.

They didn’t bother to try talking until the clocks had stopped, about five minutes after Wee Sam’s watch struck the hour.

“Did those people who tried to kill young Vetinari have any friends who stayed in our time?”

“I believe so.” They were walking slowly, and Wee Sam waited a full block before he added. “You want me to turn all my information over to anyone in particular?”

“I’m not afraid of you getting hurt.” It didn’t seem like a related response, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t. “I mean, of course I am, but that’s not why I’ve been saying no.”

“Really?”

“I don't want people treating you like a target for their hate for me. If you could join the way Carrot or Angua or Cheery did, that would be fine. But it’s gotten so big since they joined up.”

“Ah.” He didn’t know what else to say.

“I don’t think it would be any better if you joined anywhere else within the Clacks network.”

“Which is pretty much the whole world at this point.”

“And there’s all this scrying now.”

“Which doesn’t need towers.”

His father glared at him, but didn’t tell him to knock it off. “So I suspect your joining a Watch anywhere would ultimately be just as risky.”

“Which is your reasoning for why I shouldn’t bother with Sto Lat.”

“No, my reasoning for why you shouldn’t bother with Sto Lat is that we pay better and have the best medical benefits on the Sto Plains.”

Wee Sam stopped abruptly. “What.”

“You survived the Watch I started out in. As far as I’m concerned, you can handle today’s watch.” The old man stopped and looked back at him. “You’re going to be the oldest cadet though. Because I’m not going to let you jump straight to Corporal. We’re not at war.”

“Right. Yeah. That’s fine.”

“We’re going to be late if you don’t get moving.”

“Right.” Wee Sam managed to keep himself from skipping, so the pent up energy became a jog to his father’s side. They walked in silence, Wee Sam’s mind racing as he wondered if there was some way for him to accidentally mess this up.

“You should give your mother two week’s notice though. It’s only fair.”

“You didn’t run this by her first?” Wee Sam turned to him, shocked.

“Oh we’ve been talking about this for years.” The unspoken word ‘decades’ hung in the air between them. “Her, Vetinari, Carrot, Angua, Cheery--”

“Cheery?”

“She and Igor think you should be in forensics. I mean, it’s your choice of course-- after you pass the tests.”

“Forensics would be great.” He agreed, and thought about how fun it could be to put his Medical and Alchemical and Assassin training to something useful for once. Which reminded him “You know, there is a smouldering cigar in the center of The Garden of Inner City Tranquility at the Monastery.”

“Yeah, it hit me after you left. I had called you ‘sunshine’ during our fight, and Vetinari basically asked how you were handling turning 30, and seeing him standing there with the lilac pinned to his shirt it hit me.” He paused for a moment. “He wore it in the original timeline too, you know. I wish I had asked, but we didn’t get along as well then.”

Wee Sam felt his mouth tug into a half-smile. For his father and the patrician, ‘getting along as well’ involved an increased number of arguments. Also, he remembered ‘Keel’ using that ironic term of endearment during their spar. “You realized I was Ned Coats.”

“So I… walked as fast as I could… to the Monastery and… knocked on the damned door… And threatened to make one hell of a scene if Sweeper didn’t let me in.”

“So of course he did.”

“Of course.”

“And he took you to the garden. And… you told him what you worked out?”

“Actually I just told him that if anything happened to you I was holding him personally responsible. I knew Ned Coats died. I just didn’t know if he died the way John Keel died. I hadn’t stayed long enough to find out.”

“And what did he say?”

“He asked if my holding him responsible was more or less lethal than Susan Sto Helit holding him responsible.”

Wee Sam laughed. “Sweeper hasn’t met mum.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” His father chuckled quietly. “Anyway, Susan will be at dinner so you can tell her all about how the monks kicked you out with an audience. Your mother will find it interesting, I’m sure.”

“Does mum know about you going back...”

“Oh yes. Vetinari can’t keep a secret from her.” And neither could her husband.

“Will there be anybody at the dinner who doesn’t know?”

“Hm, no. I don’t think so. You were the only one who wasn’t in a position to make conversation then, and while Susan wasn’t involved in my adventure as far as I can tell…”

“But with Susan who knows. In any case, I think I’ll wait until we can get some privacy.”

“Suit yourself, but be warned. Everyone knows I told you I was ok with you joining the Watch. They’ll make a big deal about it. You know how they are.”

Wee Sam looked up at the big, brightly-lit, house as they waited for his dad to fully get his breath back. “I’ll try to be strong.”

Commander Sam Vimes snorted. Wee Sam opened the door, held it while his father entered the house, and followed right behind him.

[angelanimedesaray]

Wings in the Dark Chapter 2: Suspicions

AN:  Yeeaaahhh this one’s pretty much all from Levi’s POV.  Get ready for some cat and mouse, guys.

Also I’m working on a playlist.  hehehe. I love my playlists.  Some songs just fit SO WELLLLL!!!!

Characters:  Levi, Vampire!Reader, Erwin, Various BG Characters

Pairing:  (Eventual) Levi x Reader

Warnings:  Language

Word Count:  5102

<----Previous Chapter    Masterlist    Next Chapter---->

*Levi’s POV*

Levi leaned against the stone wall beside him, arms crossed over his chest and the shade of the roof mostly hiding him from view as he stared pensively out at the open field.  The horse training was finished for the days, and the horses were being allowed time to roam in the open field for the time being.  One individual, however, was spending some one on one time with a mare, walking through some common techniques to get a horse to trust you.

At first, he’d wondered why she was using such a long rope, since he was fairly certain the distance between a horse and a potential rider during this exercise wasn’t supposed to be that far.  Quickly Levi realized that if she got much closer, the horse was not having it.  It was truly afraid of her, though she appeared to be making some headway, if she was able to lead the horse around on the long rope while the other horses stayed clear.

Horses that had been trained and bred to retain nerves of steel and ignore their fears, especially in the presence of Titans and the chaos of a battle, and apparently all of them were at least skittish around her.  That’s what he’d heard from the stablemaster, anyway.

Not a minor detail to be overlooked.  And a problem, if she couldn’t get around it.  Clearly, though, she was putting in the effort and time to fix it, and she didn’t mind going at the proper pace instead of trying to rush it.  From what he’d been able to observe, she was also approaching the situation with an admirable amount of patience, no outward signs of frustration or anger when she reached a setback and had to back up a foot or so on the rope instead of shortening it a little more.  Her approach changed slightly each time, too, attempting to adjust to fix whatever she’d done wrong the previous try.

Well, at least she had some positive character traits to be discovered alongside the worrisome fact about the horses he wasn’t going to ignore.  So he could give her some merit while his suspicion raised a little more.

“Captain.”

Levi turned at the sound of his title, noticing the individual approaching him from the main building, a file in hand.  He snapped a salute when he reached Levi, then held out the file for him to take.  “You asked for the file on Cadet Y/N L/N.”

Levi nodded and took the file from him.  “Thanks.  You can go,” he said in a distracted tone, already opening the file as the soldier walked away.

His eyes scanned the information in the file, which was surprisingly scarce.  Her place of residence was formerly Wall Rose, there was no living family, no record as he thought there might be after their spar.  She ranked sixth in her class--which didn’t at all match the spar they’d had, and gave further credit to his belief she was purposely holding herself back even when it mattered for placement.  Maybe she wanted to avoid the spotlight?  She wanted her talents to be recognized, but she didn’t want them front and center since she was still trying to scrape by without her full potential being noticed.  She excelled in individual evaluations, especially the physical and instinctual, but seemed to have some problem with others.  It was noted in her file that she was a loner and outcast during training, suggesting teamwork might be a point of issue with her.  The opinion of her classmates might shed some light on that matter--it could have easily been the other party and not necessarily her that was the issue.  Some of her classmates had joined the Scouts as well, if he remembered correctly, so there were some around that could be asked.

Levi reached the end of the file far sooner than he expected.

There weren’t any official documents giving age or place of birth, just an inked in note marking that she was in her early twenties--older than most new recruits, strangely enough--and the name of the town she was born in.  There weren’t any legal documents, and no visible records of her existence before she started leaving a trail behind in Wall Rose two years ago, with a rented space in her name and her official application to join the Cadet Corps the only real official documents here.

That shouldn’t have been possible.  Of course, if she lived in the Underground beforehand, it would make perfect sense for her to have no trail until she surfaced, but it was right here in ink that she was born within Wall Rose.

Had she lied?  Had she somehow managed to get topside without official immigration and slipped right through the fingers of the authorities?  The Underground would have fit a little comfortably in his working picture of her--loner, exceptionally skilled in combat and other physical areas, not having a record before two years ago, the street fighting skills…

He wasn’t going to write off the Underground yet, but how she might have gotten topside needed some fleshing out before he could consider it more seriously.

Appearing out of the blue and an unknown past only made Levi’s unease grow.  Maybe if there was more, he could have deduced what her reason for joining the military--hell, joining the Scouts--was.

More questions, and not much in the way of answers.

Dissatisfied, Levi returned to his position resting against the wall with the file now tucked under an arm, watching as the speckled grey horse with the black to white mane gradually came closer to her as the rope slowly shortened, but it’s caution and unexplained fear still kept it out of her arm's reach.

The new recruit in front of him was so nervous he was trembling.  He might have thought he was hiding it well, but it was plain as day to Levi, who was leaning against the wall sipping on his cup of tea with eyes fixed forward on the recruit sitting on the other side of his desk.  He’d called the young man in as a sort of character reference for L/N, asking him to state his opinion on the young woman’s abilities and if they were an asset to the Scouts.

His final question, however, had caused the recruit’s suddenly shifty demeanor, and Levi’s gaze narrowed slightly at him when he hesitated.

“Are there any qualities you feel she possesses that would be harmful to the Scouts?”

The recruit across from him couldn’t look Levi in the eyes, on the brink of saying something, but for some reason holding himself back.  Levi waited for several moments before there was a spark of impatience starting to grow in him.

“Spit it out.”

The recruit’s shoulders hunched slightly, and he started to haltingly speak.  “She doesn’t exactly get along with other people.”

Well, that could mean a lot of things.  Levi wasn’t the friendliest person in the world, but that didn’t stop him from doing his damn job.  Antisocial didn’t necessarily count as something that negated her ability to perform in the field.  This kid needed to be more specific.

“Does she start fights with her comrades?” Levi asked bluntly.

“No, but she has been in a few--”

“Does she fail to communicate in the field?”

“Never, though--”

“Is she incapable of working as part of a group?”

“Not really--”

“Does she take actions that could cause harm to other members of the team in the field?”

“I haven’t--”

Levi let out a slow sigh.  He kept interrupting the recruit because he didn’t need long winded answers that spun the narrative a certain way.  He already knew he couldn’t entirely trust the feedback this kid was going to give him, because either he would downplay her abilities and up-play her flaws to make himself look better, or vice versa to make her look better, all based off the assumption Levi was asking because Levi was looking to have her join his squad.

It wasn’t too far off the mark, but Levi was considering adding her less and less the farther he dug into her background.  And while he knew he couldn’t trust much of what the kid was going to say to his face, that wasn’t the point.  It was what came after this that mattered the most, and it still gave him something to work with to get a little further in his investigation.

She communicated and worked just fine in a group, and while she had been in fights before, she hadn’t been the one to start them.  It was starting to look more like harassment of some degree on the other side that kept her from interacting much with her peers.  Aside from the pretty much confirmed antisocial behavior outside of the field, of course.

“You have to be more specific than ‘she doesn’t play well with others.’  I don’t always get along with other people--that doesn’t keep me from doing my job,” Levi deadpanned.

The recruit was really struggling to get it out now, his face all twisted up as he tried to rework his words.  “While her skills are undeniable, socially, her relationship with her peers is...poor.”

Is that really what this amounted to?  No one liked her because she wasn’t friendly enough with them?  “Your complaint is that she’s not a social butterfly?”

“It’s more than that, sir, she’s not…”

Levi waited another five seconds before he decided this wasn’t being productive anymore.  Time to kick him out of the office and go on to the next part, then.  “Either come up with a solid answer, or I’ll take your silence as a no so you can leave to take care of that constipated look on your face.”

The recruit looked put out and frustrated, but he ended up standing from the chair and leaving, Levi watching him silently from over the rim of his cup and eyes lingering on the door after it had closed.

This sneaking around behind the scenes getting dirt on people was usually more Erwin’s speed, but Levi had been around Erwin long enough to pick up a few tricks of his own to use when necessary, like in moments like this.  Levi could be subtle when he wanted to.

A few moments after the recruit walked out his door, Levi finished his tea, set down the empty cup on his desk, and followed after him, keeping far enough back that he wouldn’t be noticed.  Just as he’d suspected, the recruit found his way back to another pair of recruits and proceeded to go about cathartically bitching about the situation.

Levi missed the part where the other two asked why Levi wanted to talk to him in his office, but since that wasn’t the important part, Levi wasn’t too concerned, stopping just around the corner and pressing his shoulder against the wall to listen in to what they really had to say about L/N when it wasn’t being filtered by the intimidation of speaking with a superior.

“Of course miss ice princess is being considered for Captain Levi’s squad.  Why wouldn’t she?” the recruit who had been in Levi’s office was fuming.

“I don’t get why you two are so upset--if Captain Levi’s already asking about her, surely that’s because she has the potential, right?” asked the young woman in their group.

“You didn’t train with her--you didn’t see how downright infuriating she was!  If it wasn’t for the occasional lost spar round or missed question on a test, or a margin behind someone else in an endurance test, whatever it was, she still somehow managed to look perfect.  Even if you were ahead of her, it was like she was right there behind you!”

“Not to mention she didn’t even seem to try,” the third one muttered.

“Exactly!  We’d work our asses off, and then she would waltz in and do whatever they asked her to as if it was as natural as breathing!  It was so--so--so infuriating!”

“Sounds like you’re jealous,” the woman surmised.

“Wouldn’t you be upset?  She didn’t even try!  Then to make matters worse, she always acted like she was above us.  Yeah she usually beat us all in everything, but she didn’t even try to be nice about it.”

“Yeah--I know this girl who tried to be friends with her part way through training.  But she was always treating her like a plague--she’d move further away from her, or she’d ignore her attempts to talk to her or actively dodge her.  She made it pretty damn clear she wasn’t in the Corps to make friends.  And she was like that with everyone--she never let anyone get closer than necessary to her.  Sure, she’d give you some tips in the middle of training, but it was always just what was necessary, and she never let the conversation move to anything personal.  She’s a bitch,” the friend added.

“I figured all that time spent by herself, she was just focused on her training.  It got me certain that she was going to be top of the class--some say she should have.  Hell, I thought she’d be pissed when she got sixth, but I swear she looked pleased.  Pleased!  And I thought she wanted to at least make the top five with how fucking perfect she seemed.”

“Okay, so she was antisocial in training and she’s good enough at what she did that it made you all jealous.  I still don’t see anything that would make you hate her so much.  I’ve seen her around a few times and she doesn’t seem nearly as frigid as you all say.  Distant, yeah, but she seems...warm, if a bit melancholy,” the woman said thoughtfully.

“Don’t let it fool you.  She’s probably just trying to make a better impression now that she’s where she wants to be and is about to get placed--possibly in the best squad, now, too, apparently.”  There was the sound of a boot scuffing the stone, then a thwack of a broom handle being thumped against the offender’s head.  “Ow!  And she’s not warm and she’s not innocent.  I don’t know what she was doing, but she was up to something during training, even if we couldn’t prove it.”

“Oh?  And what was it?  She managed to get an extra loaf of bread on her plate?” the woman asked almost mockingly.  Clearly she wasn’t convinced by their ranting.

“One of the most infuriating things about her was how she could break the rules and still get away with it!  She used to sneak out all the time at night while we were in the Cadets, but no one could ever catch her.  Even when we gave the instructors a warning that she would be sneaking out again soon, she still wouldn’t get caught, and we’d get in trouble for lying about a classmate.  Not once was she caught, and we had classmates that could attest to her not being in bed at some point in the night, so we knew it was happening!  But we could never prove it.  It still drives me nuts to this day!”

“If you kick this floor again, I’ll hit you even harder--you are not messing up the cleaning job I’ve been working so hard on!” the woman fumed suddenly, and there was a bit of a scuffle before things calmed down again.

“I swear, if Captain Levi puts her on his squad I’m going to be so fucking--”

“Look at the bright side, you probably won’t have to deal with her anymore if that happens, because you’re nowhere near that league,” the friend teased.  It sounded like there was going to be another scuffle breaking out, so Levi finally stepped around the corner to make himself known.

“Oi.”

The two boys immediately panicked, while the woman snapped to attention, eyes flickering to a fresh scuff mark on the stone with a clearly upset face to see the two were already back to mucking up her hard work.  Levi ignored the two who were scrambling to their feet and trying to snap to a salute, walking past all three without even glancing at them.

“Get back to cleaning.  And find another place to bitch about superiors,” he added before he continued down the hall and out of earshot once more.

Idiots.

There was nothing wrong with a little bitching to get it out of your system, but at least have the decency to do it somewhere less public where anyone could find and hear you.

However, Levi officially had some honest first hand accounts of her relationship to her peers, and a lead he could follow further into this mystery.

She snuck out a lot at night when she was in the cadets, huh?  He wondered if she was still doing that now…

It seemed he had something to do now in the hours insomnia kept him from sleeping.  He could keep an eye out to see if she was sneaking out, and try to figure out where she was going on these little escapades if they were, in fact, continuing after leaving the Cadets.

The more he looked into her, the more uneasy he became.  He was already at the point where he knew he was going to have to bring up his concerns to Erwin, but he was going to make sure he’d gone as far as he could with this investigation of his before he went to Erwin.

For the first few nights after hearing about L/N’s nightly escapades in the cadets, Levi didn’t catch anything amiss.  He was well aware of the best spots in this building to sneak out at this point, and had several points he liked to retreat to for some alone time that just happened to give him a good view of the surrounding area.  He was fairly confident that if she tried to sneak out, he would be able to spot her as long as he was looking--which he was.

By the fifth night, he seriously considered the possibility that if she was doing something shady such as meeting a co-conspirator in the the night, the wise thing would be to cut all communication once she was inside the Scouts.  If her nightly actions were something dastardly like that, then it was entirely possible that he wouldn’t see her sneak out because she wouldn’t make the attempts now in such a high risk area.

Still, Levi kept an eye out, always near a window at night so he could peer out into the darkness and see anyone trying to slip away if it did happen.

At long last, almost three weeks after the recruits had first arrived, he managed to catch a fleeting glimpse of a hooded figure moving in the darkness away from the building.  Believing it to be L/N, he got up from his seat immediately, taking the less forgiving but more direct route of climbing out the window and down to the ground so he could close the distance before she left his sight entirely and he lost track of her.  Going through the building down to the ground floor and to a proper exit would have taken him too long, so his unconventional route was one he didn’t second guess.

Landing quietly on the paved stones, Levi crept forward at a walk that was barely restrained from becoming a jog for the first few moments, keeping to the shadows like his quarry as he attempted to follow after her.  He wasn’t armed in case there was trouble, mostly because he didn’t get the luxury of enough time to grab a weapon--he’d only caught a fleeting glimpse, so he’d had to act instantly.

Levi managed to catch up to where he would want to be on a tail after two streets, feeling himself settle down internally once he was the desired distance away.  She didn’t slow down, plowing forwards with a purpose that told him she knew exactly where she was going and she was going to waste no time getting there--he just had to keep up.

Yes, she.  He didn’t have confirmation that it was her, but he was operating off the assumption it was between the story he’d heard and the fact he’d been waiting for something like this to happen and her to be the culprit.

He continued to follow her street after street, taking several corners, occasionally losing sight of her before he caught movement again and continued on the path.  After a few minutes, however, he realized these direction changes weren’t exactly pointed and purposeful, but random.  They happened too suddenly and without warning for them to be planned.

She knew he was following her, and she was trying to shake him.

Hoping to make her think that she lost him, Levi slowed down his pace, allowing her to pull a little further ahead, far enough away it would be more difficult for him to follow, but at the same time it would give her the impression that he was too far away and that she lost him.

Levi managed to make it a few more streets this way, catching the edge of a cape or a flash of movement as she turned a corner to give him a direction, until suddenly, he realized he couldn’t hear footsteps or any other sound in the night, and he no longer had even a fleeting visual on her in order to give him a sense of direction.

That wasn’t possible.  Pulling back had been risky, yes, but he’d been sure he could still keep track of her.  And he should have at least been able to hear footsteps in the distance, because she would have had to speed up to lose him so suddenly.

Did she have ODM gear hidden under her cape?  Had she taken for the skies to get out of visible range of the streets?

Wanting to test the theory before she could get too far, Levi used window sills, boxes by stalls, wooden awnings, whatever he could to climb up to the roof of one of the buildings, turning around swiftly with his head on a swivel as he tried to catch a glimpse of movement, a figure moving through the night either on ODM gear or on the streets down below.

Nothing.  It was just him standing alone on this roof in the night’s silence.

Where the hell had she gone?

“Levi...why didn’t you bring this to my attention sooner?”

Levi scowled, meeting Erwin’s serious expression head on before he turned to move again, occasionally crossing the floor at an extremely slow pace, stopping for a while before he would turn around and move again.  Considering Levi usually remained stationary, it counted as a sign of unease.

He had just come to Erwin with what he knew about L/N, which admittedly wasn’t much.  For the most part, he was simply telling Erwin about his concerns and a bad feeling that he’d been harboring since meeting her.  He did have some legitimate red flags, like her apparent trips out into the night that were continuing here at the Scouts and her lack of a record from before two years ago with nothing to show she might have been from the Underground.

“Because it was just basic curiosity at first, but the more I heard, the more I had to be concerned about,” Levi said pointedly, lips pulled down in a prominent frown as he mulled over everything in his mind.

“Well, based off what you’ve been able to find out, if she is a threat, how much of a threat would she be,” Erwin asked patiently, his eyes continuing to track Levi as he moved about the room.  Levi stopped, turning his head slightly in Erwin’s direction.

“Erwin...she had me.  In that spar on the training grounds.  But at the last second, she shifted and threw the match,” Levi explained quietly.

“...I see.”

Levi turned around all the way to see Erwin sitting forward in his chair, hands laced together in front of him and pressed against his lips, eyebrows furrowed together in contemplation.

“Don’t mark her as an enemy in your mind, yet, Levi.  Let this play out a while longer, first.  This may be a situation where we need to spring the trap after it’s set to truly know the situation.  So far, she hasn’t done anything to hurt humanity’s mission regarding the Titans.  I don’t like how many unknowns there are with her, either, which is precisely why we have to approach this correctly.  There’s as much a chance we could be wrong as there is that we can be right about her intentions.”  Erwin’s hands carefully folded back over one another on top of the table, Erwin turning his gaze on Levi with that expression of his that usually appeared when he was mentally calculating a gamble.  “Continue your investigation as you see fit, so long as you don’t outright antagonize her.  We don’t want to risk driving her off, if these skills your glimpsing are as strong as your intuition tells you they are.  She could still be a great asset if she’s truly on our side.  Keep an eye on her, try to figure out at least if her intentions align with our own or run against them.”

“And you?” Levi asked suspiciously, looking to see if that gambling air about Erwin was tipping over into the dangerous side of things.

Erwin hummed.  “I’ll do some digging of my own, see what I can find.  Of course, if you can’t find anything concrete by the next expedition, going beyond the walls will allow you to get not only a stronger grasp on the skills she’s bringing to the table, but will help with figuring out her general intentions.”

“I don’t like the thought of having to babysit while we’re out there,” Levi returned flatly.  Expeditions were far too unpredictable as they were without adding a mysterious woman of unknown capabilities and intentions along for the ride with the task to keep a sharp eye on her and evaluate her every move.

“Then perhaps you’ll want to find out if you can trust her out there or not, first.  I know you can’t guarantee finding the answers to all of your questions in such a short amount of time, but you could at least find out if she will have the back of her fellow scouts on the first expedition,” Erwin said with a pointed look.  Levi could already tell this mess might get a little ugly, but at the very least, knowing he could trust her not to turn and kill someone on the expedition would go a long way in making his job digging into her background a lot easier.

After Levi gave a nod of confirmation, Erwin continued.  “In the meantime, I’ll make sure she’s placed in the formation so that she’s within your sight at all times.  Considering the rumors you’ve stirred up that you might be looking to recruit her to your squad, it would only make sense for you to be watching her out in the field to see how she does.  It’s also a nice excuse for you to make a few more direct inquiries to L/N, herself.  You’ve done plenty of work in the background, I think it’s safe to say you can start approaching her as well.  Subtly, of course.”

“After she shook me last night, she might already be on edge,” Levi pointed out.  She had to have known someone followed her.  There were no guarantees that she knew it was Levi, and he didn’t think she’d had the chance to confirm who was following her any more than he’d had a chance to confirm if he was following her.

“Then be careful about it.  But whenever you come to a decision about whether she’s a danger or not, I want to know.  This will go a lot smoother and faster if we’re sharing information.”

“I’m not stupid, Erwin,” Levi said with a long-suffering sigh, straightening up.  “Anything else?”

Erwin’s lips twitched upwards towards a smile, his hands moving to a drawer to pull out some paper and ink.  “Have fun making a new friend.”

Levi scowled again, turning to leave after it was clear Erwin was ready to move on to the next thing.  He was a little worried about this task to test L/N’s intentions to help the scouts before going out into the field, especially because he knew that look of Erwin’s meant he would set it up and Levi would simply have to observe.

But, he did have his own ways of testing her out as a person, and some people he could get to help without having to inform them of everything behind it.  He was already observing her from a distance and could safely continue to do so.  With the rumors going around he was looking to take her in under his wing, he could use that to his advantage to ask a few questions and approach her at the right times.

Yet, despite the fact he knew he would have help in prodding at her to see a bit more of what she was made of, he couldn’t help but notice that his sense of unease that had been tickling in the back of his mind was not shrinking.  If anything, it only seemed more prevalent.  As long as he continued to have this feeling of unease about her, he wasn’t going to let the matter rest.  He was going to figure out what she was hiding, if only so he could assuage or confirm his suspicions before they grew wildly out of control.

At least it seemed Erwin shared his concern, confirming it wasn’t all in his head, and there was cause to worry.  He only hoped they could figure out what was going on here before they had to spring the trap, as Erwin had suggested.

Levi shook his head.  He could worry about that, later.  First, he had a recruit to get a feel of before they went outside the walls, and he had to make sure he didn’t spook her while learning what made her tick.

Thankfully, he already had a pretty good idea where to find her in her down time, with all the work she’d been putting in to fix the one glaring flaw in her ability to go outside the walls.

The stables.

Next Chapter---->

Levi Tags:  @clary-quinn @humanitys-hottestsoldier @whalerus @sunny-flo

Wings in the Dark Tags:  @regalillegal @animeluver23 @theshylittleelfgirl @queenthorin1 @dilucs-thighs

[luxekook]

RESPECT ✩ namgi

✩ as part of @btswritingcafe​‘s mots: 7 collab ✩

✩ pairing: king namjoon x witch reader x king yoongi

✩ genre: soulmate au, fantasy au, angst, smut, fluff, a sprinkle of crack

✩ summary: in a land where the only openly acceptable magic is intrinsic soulmate bonds, what is a lowly witch to do when she is called upon by not just one king but two?

✩ word count: 7.1k

✩ warnings: 18+, cursing, magic, societal oppression, mention of snakes, reader has hella trust issues, begging, general cheesy fluff, smut [dom!reader, dom!namjoon, switch!yoongi, threesome (duh), throne sex (yuh), yoongi gets taken to paris and then the reader gets double teamed (aka double penetration)]

✩ beta’d by: the MAGNIFICENT phia @meowxyoong​

✩ banner by: the ILLUSTRIOUS danica @dee-ehn​

Magic danced at your fingertips as you summoned ingredients from the shelves behind you. You had been brewing this potion for hours - a tedious and tumultuous process that always accompanied the crafting of wolfsbane. It was a badly kept secret that you supplied the temporary suppressant along with a variety of other magical remedies, spells, and an occasional curse or two. 

There were - of course - limits on what you would provide. You did not take too kindly to townspeople that asked for dark spells or soulmate switches. Your fellow magical and supernatural folk in the kingdom of Meridian were ostracized enough as it was by the majority of the wealthier classes. To add on to your bad reputation would be a foolish endeavor.

Magic - it seemed - was a poor man’s trade. Why would the rich deign to ask for help from lowly witches and warlocks when they had access to the best doctors, the furthest overseas markets, and the fattest bank accounts? The occasional upper class individual would stray from the norm and enter your shop, but that was a rarity. And thank god it was.

The rich and the royals often feared what they did not understand – whether it be foreign powers, lower class revolts, or magical beings. For centuries, supernaturals like yourself clung to the outer rim of the kingdom out of necessity. Some who were able to pass as human lived closer to the castle at the center of the kingdom; but, you had long since lost your cover, choosing to openly use your powers for good and for a source of income. 

While the two current rulers had lifted the outright ban on supernaturals and magical beings a few years ago, centuries of prejudice and trepidation could not be quickly unlearned. 

It always struck you as ironic how easily the magic of soulmates was accepted, but a simple spell of healing, for example, was not. Perhaps the acceptance of soulmate magic was out of the longevity of its presence or the necessity of its inevitability - perhaps a combination of the two. You were taught from a young age that soulmate bonds felt like a welcomed tether to another person - a connection celebrated and cherished. And, in most cases, that rang true.

However, you knew too much to hope for a soulmate of your own, having heard too many stories from your fellow magic wielders. You knew all too much about the severance of soulmate bonds and the pain that accompanied the process – the pain that never left. 

Obviously, you were downright terrified of finding your soulmate and the almost certain rejection that would follow over the mere fact you were a witch. You would stick to your spells and your potions, thank you very much. 

Giving the wolfsbane one final stir, you reached for the empty bottle next to your cauldron, only to be interrupted by a thumping knock on the thick wood of your front door. Sighing, you set down the bottle and doused the flames beneath your finished brew with a flick of your hand. 

Turning to the door, you cast a quick reveal-spell at the dividing barrier between you and the newcomers. The magic dripped down the door, erasing it from your sight. 

Kim Taehyung waited expectantly on the other side, body practically vibrating with anticipation. You rolled your eyes. That boy always carried way too much energy with him. He pounded again on your door. You smirked, it always seemed funny when visitors would continue to knock on what was - for you - an invisible barrier. 

You waved the spell away with another wave of your palm. Pulling open the door, you failed to get a word in before you were swept into a giant hug. “(Y/n)!” Taehyung bellowed in your ear while he swung you around.

“Tae,” You wheezed, “Can’t. Breathe.”

The werewolf let you stand on your feet once more. “How is my favorite witch?” He asked, looking at you expectantly.

You sighed, chuckling slightly, “Tae, I’m the only witch you know besides Sinestra, and she scares you.”

Taehyung gasped, “She does not scare me! She���s just mean. She threatened to turn me into a cactus last time I went to her shop!” A pout formed on his face.

“Well,” You cannot resist teasing the boy, “She did say that you were being a prick.”

Taehyung shot you a playful glare and mumbled something about damned witches sticking together.

Deciding to let him off the hook, you headed back over to where the wolfsbane was left waiting to be bottled. “It just finished,” You told Taehyung as he trailed after you. “But, Taehyung, you really should just tell him.”

The reason that Taehyung repressed his wolf each month was none other than his soulmate - a human named Jimin. Tae was terrified of Jimin’s reaction to discovering his supernatural side. You thought his fear was justified, but you also figured that Jimin would be accepting of Tae just from how the werewolf described him.

Besides, it seemed inevitable that Jimin would catch on at some point. And Taehyung seemed to know that, too.

Tae’s shoulders sagged, “I know, (y/n). I’ll think about it.” 

With that, you nodded and dropped the subject, pouring the portion of the potion Taehyung needed into a bottle. Capping it tightly, you handed it to him, “Here. Remember to take it with food this time, okay?”

He smiled widely, clutching the bottle close to his chest. “Thank you! I will, (y/n).” Pulling you into one more hug, Taehyung waltzed out the door with a wave.

You smiled wistfully at his departure. So full of life, that one was. You just knew that his soulmate would accept him. You also recognized that you were not like Taehyung. You weren’t as vibrant, as gentle, or as beautiful. Would your soulmate be able to look past all your magic and stay for you? You didn't think so.

Shaking yourself from your negative thoughts, you carefully bottle up the rest of the wolfsbane for your stores. Even though you had long since stopped charging Taehyung, there were other werewolves nearby that you sold the potion to for quite a pretty penny. 

You had barely begun to shelve the bottles when another knock sounded at your door. Cracking a wry smile, you yanked the door open, “Tae, what did you forget to tell me this ti—”

The knock had not been from Taehyung. Instead, two palace guards stood there, shoulder to shoulder. 

Oh, this was not good. Having any lingering association with the palace would hurt your business. It was always best to deal with potentially hazardous situations quickly. Pulling open the door wider, you stood with hands on your hips, facing the two intruders. They both gaped at you, and you arched an eyebrow at them. “Can I help you, boys?” 

You took their continued silence as an opportunity to flick your eyes up and down each of the men before you.

The one on the right looked like he had just passed the guards’ test with his widened doe eyes and his flushed pink cheeks. The one on the left looked slightly older but no less youthful as he seemed to bounce on his toes with energy.

Seconds ticked by until - finally - the second guard exclaimed, “You’re (y/n)? The witch?” 

“Last time I checked, yes,” You addressed the guard who had spoken. You dubbed him ‘Happy’. “Were you expecting me to look differently?”

“I heard that you were super old! Like over one hundred years old!” Doe-eyes unhelpfully answered before widening his eyes in panic, “Not that there’s anything wrong with being old! I mean, I love old people! But, not, like, romantically! I mean—”

Happy seemed to notice your mood darkening with each word his partner spewed out. Shoving the younger guard aside, Happy puffed out his chest and announced with pride, “We are members of the Royal Guard sent to escort you to the palace, Miss Witch.” 

Doe-eyes nodded swiftly next to him, cowering slightly as you continued to glare at him. 

“First of all, please never ever call me ‘Miss Witch’. My name is (y/n),” You uttered, completely unamused, “Second of all, what happens if I refuse your escort?”

The guards slid each other a look.

“Ah, I see,” You murmured, mood darkening even still, “Was there an implied ‘by any means necessary’ tacked on to the end of that sentence that I didn’t hear?”

“She’s a mind reader!” Doe-eyes gasped, leaping behind Happy and peering slightly around his shoulder at you.

You rolled your eyes at the sight of his quivering form, “Calm down, kid. I’m not into non-consensual mind reading.” Shooting the baffled duo a wink, you turned to open your door further. “Please, come in,” You insisted. It was obvious there was no avoiding your summons, but that did not mean your business would suffer.

“But our orders...” Happy failed to follow through with his attempted protest as he practically jumped past you into your little cottage. What an intense curiosity that one had, you mused. Meanwhile, the younger guard seemed more trepidatious, practically tiptoeing across the threshold and into your humble abode.

You shook your head at the way the two palace guards were quickly captivated by your gathered crystals, your worn spellbooks, and your wall of potion ingredients. Swiftly, you shelved the rest of the wolfsbane potion like you had tried to do before being interrupted. 

Your clients would have to pick it up themselves. Scrawling a quick note to your fellow witch Sinestra about the recent events just in case, you vanish it to her with a snap of your fingers.

“Whoa,” Two awed voices sounded from behind you. 

“It went ‘poof’!” Doe-eyes yelled, tugging on the sleeve of his fellow guard, “Did you see?” 

“Do you want to go ‘poof’, too?” You smiled evilly, wiggling your fingers in his direction.

“Ah, hyung! She’s threatening me!” 

“Get it together, bro,” Happy rolled his eyes. Turning to address you, he asked expectantly, “Ready to go now, (y/n)?”

“As I’ll ever be,” You muttered, grabbing your cloak from the rack by the door. Ushering the two men out before you, you quickly cast your protective charms on your home. Now, no one besides your most trusted clients should be able to enter.

Satisfied, you trailed behind the guards as they walked over to where their horses were tied to one of the many nearby trees surrounding your cottage. At least they didn't seem to be malicious in their intent. Their backs were to you, either a sign of trust or blatant stupidity. Only time would tell, you guessed.

"You'll ride with me," Happy smiled at you as he held his palm out for you to take. You shrugged, ignoring his hand to mount the horse on your own. "Alright then," The guard muttered as he seated himself behind you, "Let's go."

The journey towards the heart of the kingdom was not one you made often. It was only out of necessity that you sometimes ventured to the more expensive markets for key ingredients. The looming castle always stirred up inexplicable and foreign feelings of longing and fascination. You feared that actually entering it this time would be almost too overwhelming. 

As the three of you made your way through the town you lived in, you received some tentative smiles and concerned looks from those in which you interacted with regularly. Visitors from the palace were rarities in these parts of the kingdom. You didn't blame people for being concerned by the guards’ appearance and by your departure with them. 

The day wore on as you made your way through village after village, stopping only for a quick lunch. All too soon the palace appeared on the horizon. The looks you received from the townspeople were no longer cordial or concerned. They were full of suspicion and condescension. 

You shrugged it off as best you could. You had bigger things to worry about - starting with whatever was waiting for you on the other side of the looming palace gates.

The large engraved metal doors swung open with your approach as Happy and Doe-eyes nodded to the guards posted there. Your breath caught in your throat. The castle was magnificent. The stone structure seemed to shine with a silvery sheen. Large stained glass windows gleamed from the many stories and towers adorning the palace. Vines wound their way up the walls despite the best efforts of the gardeners to stem their growth.

You stifled a laugh as one such gardener attempted to do so, but the vine refused to budge. Maybe there was some magic here after all.

Two other palace guards walked over to where the three of you had come to a stop inside the palace gates. Doe-eyes dismounted first and then offered a hand in your direction. This time, you decided to take the olive branch and accepted his assistance.

“Okay, ready?” Happy nodded at you and pointed towards the castle doors. “Let’s go. We don’t want to keep the kings waiting.”

“Oh, no,” You gasped, slapping a hand to your heart, “That would be a travesty.”

Doe-eye’s mouth quirked at the corners like he had stifled a laugh, while Happy spluttered something about respect. The short walk to the front entrance was much too short for your liking. You felt like you were walking to your doom - and maybe you were. The two guards had given you no clues as to the purpose of your summoning. That was such bullshit.

The heavy gold encrusted front doors creaked open as you approached. The foyer of the palace beckoned to you with that familiar pull. You sighed as you took in the expensive decor. From the shiny marble floors to the heavy purple drapery, you could see yourself living here all too easily. Why did you feel so called to this place? Well, you had always thought of yourself as a queen. 

Laughing to yourself, you let yourself be ushered down an adjacent corridor to the right of the foyer. You barely noticed where you were headed since your attention lingered on the gorgeous paintings that lined the walls. You probably should have been more alert because you suddenly found yourself at the cusp of the throne room.

The second you entered the room your attention was captured by the two men lounging on elevated thrones at the focal point of the room. These must be the kings, you mused. You had never seen them in person before, but their reputations preceded them. Your magic surged as you neared the kings. Was there a threat nearby? You shift a glance throughout the wide hall. 

Courtesans were scattered amidst large marble columns adorned with intertwining gold and silver accents. The majority of those gathered gaped at you in distaste, while a small handful simply spared a few curious glances. You couldn't spot a single person you knew in the bunch - not that you had expected to - nor could you find a source of outright danger.

Still, your magic thrummed louder within you as you continued on your way towards the kings. 

Your heart sank. This was not a reaction based on imminent danger. No, you knew what this was; someone here was your soulmate. And, when your eyes finally landed on the two men who summoned you, you had to choke down the hysterical laugh that bubbled up inside you.

King Yoongi reclined lazily on his ornate silver and black onyx throne, his body lax but his eyes sharp. His laser-focused attention on you made your stomach flip. You held his gaze as best you could, taking in the delicate dark silk of his diamond encrusted tunic and the tousled auburn hair on which his silver crown resided. He was beautiful.

And he was your soulmate. 

Could he feel the tether between you? Had he known about it somehow before you did? Was this why were you here?

Your eyes slid over to the right, unable to take the heat of King Yoongi’s gaze; King Namjoon’s curious eyes met yours. Unlike his partner, King Namjoon leaned forwards on his gold and emerald throne, avidly taking you in like you were a subject of study. And perhaps you were… You studied him right back. This king was no less intimidating in his scrutiny than the other. His elbows rested on his knees, his hands steepled in front of his face as he stared you down. The intelligence you saw within the depths of his brown eyes clued you in that this was a king that no one could fool.

And, since fate was clearly a bitch, he was your soulmate, too. 

You came to a stop before the kings amidst the sea of murmuring courtiers. “Bow,” Doe-eyes whispered to you, urgently prodding you in the side with his hand. You only stood straighter. You bowed to no one, and you certainly would not bow to your soulmates - no matter their status.

“Leave us.” At King Namjoon’s command, the room emptied. Your two escorts remained behind you. “Hoseok, Jungkook, that includes you,” King Namjoon lifted his chin as he swished a hand in dismissal of the two guards.

“But, sire—”

King Yoongi spoke for the first time, effectively cutting Happy off, “Don’t worry, Hoseok. What can one little witch do to us?”

Oh, you could think of a lot of things. Your thoughts must have been written all over your face because King Namjoon glanced at you and immediately let out a deep chuckle.

Glaring at the two men before you, you decided that one way or another they would learn to respect you. The guards you now knew to be Hoseok and Jungkook exited the room, leaving you alone with the two kings - your two soulmates.

Now, it seemed that you were somehow in a staring contest with both of them at once. Fine, if they didn't want to talk, you would. 

“So, nice weather we’re having, huh,” Your tone could not be any drier.

“Indeed,” King Namjoon quirked a half smile, and you realized you might be in over your head as his dimple made its first appearance.

You hated the whole power imbalance thing going on right now - the two of them sitting silently on an elevated platform lording over where you stood. Gathering all your dignity and lack thereof, you placed your hands on your ample hips and raised your eyebrows, “Well? Did you summon me just to stare?”

“No,” King Yoongi drawled, cupping his chin in his hand, “But you are quite delightful to look at, soulmate… That is, if this is your true form.”

You let the backhanded compliment simmer as King Namjoon chastised his partner, shooting him a warning look.

“Ah, yes,” You finally say, swiping at a nonexistent tear, “You’ve caught me. My true form is actually so old that it’s partially decomposed. Ah, silly me. I thought I would spare you from the grotesque monstrosity.”

King Namjoon burst into uproarious laughter. “Yoongi-ah,” He wheezed, “You’ve really met your match this time.”

Opposite him, King Yoongi scowled, “It was a fair question! The last witch that we summoned could shift into an owl.”

“You’ve met Helvetica?” You blinked, thinking of the only witch you knew with that ability, “She’s legendary.” Then, it registered. “Wait, what do you mean she was ‘the last witch you summoned’... Why have you been summoning witches left and right?”

“Isn’t it obvious now?” King Namjoon smiled, “We’ve been looking for you.”

“You see, (y/n),” King Yoongi purred your name, inciting a shiver down your spine, “Namjoon and I are also soulmates.” He gracefully shifted to his feet before walking down the few steps to where you still stood. 

Circling you like a shark in water, King Yoongi continued, “But we had been feeling lonely despite our connection. We couldn't figure out why.”

“That’s right,” King Namjoon chimed in from his throne, “We tried everything to fill that void.”

“And we mean everything,” King Yoongi whispered in your ear, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger.

“We were quite desperate,” King Namjoon laughed lightly. He, too, rose to his feet and made his way to stand before you. 

Your heart felt like it might beat out of your chest from the sheer sensation of being caught in between these two beautiful men. King Yoongi continued to play with your hair from his position behind you. King Namjoon’s heavy gaze pinned you in place with its wicked intent.

“Desperate enough to contact King Seokjin of Andolia and request that his top Seer be sent to us to do a reading.” King Yoongi’s words caused you to jolt back slightly in shock. Andolia was known to be a more liberal kingdom than yours. It was a kingdom of magic, of carnal pleasure, of beauty. 

Plus, King Seokjin was practically famous for his good looks and for his love of otherworldly entertainment. 

“You outsourced from Andolia? Couldn't you just have asked one of the Seers here in Meridian?” It seemed absurd to you that these two kings reached out to another land so unlike their own for assistance - especially when you knew of at least four Seers in your own land.

King Yoongi and King Namjoon exchanged a look. “The Seers in our kingdom weren't exactly forthcoming, (y/n).” The taller king in front of you withered under your responding glare.

Could they really blame the Seers for not coming forward to help the very kingdom that had rejected them for so long? You certainly didn't think so.

King Yoongi continued, “Well, King Seokjin sent us his personal Seer Moonbyul… And imagine our surprise when she took one look at us and laughed.”

“‘No wonder you’re lonely! You’re missing one,’” King Namjoon quoted the Seer’s past words with air quotes. You had to bite down a smile over the cuteness of his action. “And not just anyone… a witch no less!”

His tone was light, jovial. You couldn't tell his feelings on your magical status no matter how hard you searched his twinkling brown eyes. Turning slightly, you assessed the other king who looked no less unreadable. 

Still staring at King Yoongi, you questioned, “Okay, so you knew your other soulmate was a witch, and you just decided to summon every witch in Meridian to check them out? Do you have any idea how much that would scare us?”

The shorter king had the decency to look a bit embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck in discomfort. “I guess we were too excited by the prospect of finding you.”

You fought down the hopeful feeling inside you. There was no way these two actually wanted to keep your bond to them, right? Not in this economy…

“I’m just going to be straight up with you.” You pulled away from their hold and paced away to climb up a couple steps so you were finally the same height. “I think you searched for me because you want to sever our bond.” 

The two kings moved to interrupt you, but you just held a palm in the air, “No, let me finish. Look, I’ve already come to terms with the fact that my soulmate wouldn't want to be tied to a witch. And why should I even want to be with someone who doesn’t respect me or my craft?”

You lowered your palm, effectively lifting the unspoken silencing charm you had cast on them. 

The first thing that King Yoongi said once he recovered his voice was: “Damn, that was sexy.” 

And the second? “I would rather sever my left arm than sever our bond.”

“Well,” You blinked as King Namjoon nodded emphatically besides his partner, “That’s a bit dramatic.”

“Please don’t write us off that easily, (y/n),” The taller king begged, “Don’t you feel it? The tether between the three of us? Can’t you see we were made for each other?”

Oh, you felt it. You felt the pull so deeply that you feared you might lose yourself within them.

But if the spark you felt for them was akin to a flame, you weren’t sure if you were the darkness longing to be brightened or the moth destined to be burned. 

Would it be worth it to give up your current life to be with them? Could you leave Taehyung and your little cottage? Could you survive in a court that held no love for your kind?

Your prolonged hesitance clearly worried the two kings before you. 

“What can we do to show you how much we want you here with us?” King Yoongi implored, his hand drifting out to clasp with King Namjoon’s. 

Staring down at the unified front the kings presented, you realized that your soulmates could offer you so much if you let them. By accepting the bond, you could gain the ability to help others more broadly than just offering simple spells of assistance. You could feel safe and secure. And, you could even allow yourself to love and be loved. 

“Hm,” You mused, “I think I need to take a seat.” You lounged on the very throne in which Yoongi had lazed just a half an hour prior. 

“Just when I thought you couldn't get any more beautiful,” King Namjoon murmured as he stared up at you as you reclined on the silver and black throne.

King Yoongi hummed in agreement, “We’ll need to make hers resplendent just to even come close to her radiance.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” You lied, secretly basking in the warmth of their praises, “Would I really get my own throne? You’re not planning on shoving me in a far away tower?”

“We were fearful of this,” King Namjoon walked up to the foot of the throne with King Yoongi in tow. Pausing briefly, they both fell to their knees before you. King Namjoon continued, “We feared you would think the worst of us. And for good reason.”

King Yoongi’s gaze pleaded with yours as he explained his partner's words, “We grew up to be scared of magic. We were sheltered from it and were told falsehoods about its ‘malicious nature’. It wasn’t until a few years ago that we first travelled to Andolia and met King Seokjin that we realized how wrong we were.”

“We were ignorant,” King Namjoon said lowly, “We removed the outright ban on magic and supernaturals immediately, but unlearning such prejudiced ways has proven to be difficult for our kingdom.” 

You took everything in. You did not doubt that they were being genuine; however, one thought still lingered in the back of your mind.

“If I stay here with you...” Both kings eagerly stared up at you and you rolled your eyes, “And I mean if I do, will you see me as an equal? Will you respect me as such?”

The kings exchanged a confused glance before replying that they already did. You weren’t convinced. You decided to lay everything on the table.

“Okay, but do you really respect me? Or do you just want to fuck me?” 

“Do those have to be mutually exclusive?” King Yoongi asked, his hands clenched at his sides as if he was holding himself back from touching you.

Your lips quirked, “I suppose not.”

“Thank the gods for that,” He growled, “I’ve been hard since you sat on my throne.” Both kings moved forward with clear sensual intent, but you sent a wave of magic forward - effectively halting their movements.

Their eyes blazed with desire for you that you were certain was mirrored in your own. You take in the magnificence of the sight before you. Your two powerful soulmates on their knees before you, desperate to touch you, to taste you. Your eyes traveled over the expanse of Namjoon’s shoulders to settle on his black velvet and gold choker. Then, you shift your gaze to Yoongi and his long ring adorned fingers, the smooth skin of his chest that peeked from the v-neck of his tunic. 

They really were quite a pair. What in the universe had you done to be fated to such beauty? You guessed you probably shouldn’t question it.

Waving away the magical barrier between you, you began, “Earlier you asked what you could do to show that you want me here with you.”

“That’s right,” Yoongi rasped, his heated gaze locked with yours as he lightly trailed a finger up your calf. Beside him, Namjoon inclined his head in agreement before taking your hand in his.

Trying to ignore the rising tension, you forged onwards. It was important that you made these points before this went any further. “Well, I have some requirements.”

Namjoon cracked a smile, “I would be disappointed if you didn’t, my soul.”

Your cheeks warmed at the endearment but didn’t let it distract you. “I want to draft an ordinance that explicitly declares equity for those with magical and supernatural abilities.”

“Done.” Your soulmates agreed in unison.

You paused. That had been almost too easy… “And also an amendment stating that discrimination against said subjects will not be tolerated by any means.”

“Agreed.” 

You were on a roll now. “I like practicing magic. It’s a part of me. I don’t want to have to hide it.”

Namjoon pressed a kiss to your palm, “We don’t want you to hide it.” 

“Your magic is beautiful, (y/n),” Yoongi’s hand slid further up your leg, “You should never feel like you have to hide an intrinsic part of yourself - especially around us.”

Your body burned under their touch, but you still held back. Were they just going to agree to any old thing you threw at them? “I also want ten thousand Burmese pythons.”

That took them a second to process. “We can easily get you around six hundred, maybe seven?” Namjoon squinted as he seemed to calculate the math in his head, “I’ll have to talk to our allies about trading for the remaining amount.”

Spluttering out a laugh, you shook your head, “I was just kidding about the snakes, my gods. Although… now that i think about it, maybe one would be cool?”

Yoongi pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh. When had he pushed your skirt up that high? “Anything for you, my queen.” 

It was official. You were ruined.

Your soulmates had effectively stymied your doubts and quelled your fears, leaving you with only the intense desire to be with them. 

And so you caved. “That just leaves one last stipulation... You say you want me, need me. Well then show me how badly you want me to be with you.”

The words barely left your mouth before they were on you. Yoongi pushed your legs further apart so that he could get closer to you. His hands slid around your waist, tugging your body flush against him, and he fused his mouth with yours. 

You smiled into his kiss as you felt Namjoon sidle up to you and begin to place fevered kisses across your collarbone. A witch could get used to this, you thought as Yoongi’s tongue tentatively swiped across your lower lip. What a good boy he was to not take more than you offered. 

Your hands tangled into Yoongi’s silky strands before they came to a halt at his crown. Carefully, you slid the crown off his head and onto yours. Pulling away from Yoongi’s mouth slightly, you murmured, “Well? How’s it look?”

“You look like our queen,” Namjoon whispered hoarsely as Yoongi just looked at you like he might devour you whole. 

At Namjoon’s words, you turned to face him, hooked a finger around the choker adorning his neck, and tugged his mouth onto yours. His hand immediately flew up to cradle your cheek as he kissed you as if you might slip away from him if he stopped. You almost laughed at how obvious it was to you now that Namjoon was the more dominant of the two.

He had just mastered the art of patience amongst the other things you only hoped you could have the pleasure of discovering. His teeth playfully nipped at your bottom lip, and you returned the affection in kind.

Meanwhile, Yoongi refused to let you forget about him as he settled into his position of kneeling between your legs. His lips kissed and sucked at your neck while his fingers danced up your thighs, taunting you with their light touch.

You decided you had been teased enough. Tugging away from Namjoon and shifting Yoongi back from you slightly, you paused briefly to focus your magic and then snapped your fingers. Your dress and undergarments disappeared from your body and reappeared a few steps away folded neatly. 

“Fuck, I love magic,” Yoongi breathed as he takes in your naked body for the first time. 

Without hesitation, you hitch one leg over one of the ornate arms of the chair. “Well?” You arched a brow, looking over your two speechless soulmates, “Are you just going to stare? Or are you going to get naked?”

The speed at which they shed their clothes almost gave your magic a run for its money. 

You marveled at the two men before you, their bodies chiseled, their cocks hard. 

“How do you want us?” Yoongi asked, practically thrumming with anticipation. 

You arched an eyebrow at Namjoon, “Is he always this eager?” 

The taller man grinned, “Occasionally, but this level is rare form for him.” 

Yoongi scowled, “Please, Joon, like you aren’t dying to sink your cock into our soulmate’s pretty little pussy.” 

“Oh,” You sighed, “Someone has quite a mouth on them… Why don’t we put that to good use while Joon teaches you some discipline.” 

Not even thrown off at the notion of being punished, Yoongi gladly sunk to his knees before you once more. Namjoon hesitated, and you quickly realized the problem. Summoning your magic, you materialized some water-based lubricant for him.

“Yeah,” Namjoon laughed, “Magic is a fucking beautiful thing.” Taking the lube from you, he leaned down to prep Yoongi. “Ready?” His deep voice sent shivers down your spine. Yoongi nodded.

“Gods yes,” You barely finished your thought before Yoongi buried his face between your legs, his mouth immediately kissing and exploring your pussy. The first stroke of his tongue tore a moan from you as your back arched into the cool metal behind you.

“(Y/n),” Namjoon growled, “Look at me, my soul. Watch me fuck our soulmate while he tastes you. I want you to feel each of my thrusts in every jolt of his tongue.”

Despite not being one to typically take orders, the heat of Namjoon’s words pulled your attention immediately and the sight before you made it stay. You watched enraptured as Namjoon slowly sank his cock into Yoongi’s ass. 

Yoongi groaned and the vibrations sent another rush of arousal through you as he continued to greedily tease your clit with his tongue. Your hands dug into his auburn waves, pushing his face harder against your pussy. 

Namjoon slid out of Yoongi and then drove back in. The visual of his hard cock pumping feverishly in and out of Yoongi’s pert ass was indescribable when every stroke caused Yoongi’s tongue to thrust inside you and his nose to nudge against your clit. 

“How does she taste, Yoongi? Is she as sweet as she looks?” 

You scowled at Namjoon for causing Yoongi to pause his worship in order to answer. “She tastes like the fucking sun, Namjoon.”

“Now, that doesn’t even make sense— Fuck,” You moaned as Yoongi’s mouth sucked hard on your clit, effectively shutting you up. Your pulse thundered in your ears as you felt the arousal build and build inside of you. Your legs shook as Yoongi sucked and hummed on your clit as Joon continued to pound into him. 

Your eyes focused on the sharp movements of Namjoon’s hip and the flexing of his muscles as he alternated in thrusting and rolling his hips. Gods, you wanted those hips to drive that cock deep inside of you.

“Does this please you, my soul?” Namjoon growled, “Do you like watching me wreck Yoongi while he gives you pleasure?”

“Y-yes,” Your breath hitched as Yoongi teasingly nipped at your swollen bud. “But I want you to wreck me and then I want to wreck you both.”

Namjoon’s thrusts stuttered to a halt as your words connected. Yoongi tore his mouth from your folds. Placing your foot on his forehead, you gently pushed Yoongi back so you could stand, “I want both of you inside me.”

Panting, Yoongi gasped, “Please, please wreck us, my queen.” His lips shone with your essence and you swiped a finger along their seam. Bringing your finger up to Namjoon’s plush lips, you tilted your head with a sly smile, “Well? You wanted a taste, didn’t you?”

Without a pause, he took your finger into his mouth, his tongue curling around the digit, tasting you. His dark eyes remained on yours as he released your finger with a pop. “So fucking divine,” Namjoon groaned, his hands darting out to grab your hips, his hard cock pressing into your stomach. 

Yoongi once again mirrored Joon’s actions from behind you. You could feel his hardness against your ass, and you couldn't help but to grind slowly into him. “(Y/n),” Yoongi moaned into your neck as his cock practically throbbed with need for relief. 

Tugging Namjoon closer to you, you whispered, “My love, go sit on your throne.”

Your soulmate appeared confused but nonetheless did what you said. Pausing only briefly to admire the way Namjoon looked on his throne, you extracted yourself from Yoongi and sauntered over to stand over Joon. 

“You know,” You murmured, grabbing his cock firmly, eliciting a gorgeous moan from the man, “I think I want to sit on your throne, too.” Your hand stroked him teasingly as his head leaned against the back of his throne.

“As you wish, my soul,” He rasped out, his thighs tensing.

With that, you knelt over him. Immediately, Namjoon’s hands rested on your ass and squeezed. “What a greedy boy,” You murmured, placing a soft kiss on his lips, “That’s for Yoongi, my love. Or is my pussy not enough for you?”

As you spoke, you slowly sunk down his thick cock inch by inch. And at the mention of his name, Yoongi practically shoved Namjoon’s hands off your ass and replaced them with his. Echoing your own words, he teased the younger king, “Yeah, Joonie, don’t be greedy.”

Namjoon shot the two of you a half-hearted glare, but before he could say a word, you clenched your walls around him. “F-fuck,” He moaned, his eyes squeezed tight, “You feel so good around my cock, so wet.”

You slid up and down his length, reveling in the building heat consuming you. From behind you, Yoongi slowly teased your other opening. The coolness of his finger assured you that he had done this before. His finger slid into my ass with ease, the lube no doubt helping with that. You both moaned.

“You like that, my queen?” Yoongi growled, beginning to push his finger in and out.

“Oh my gods, yes,” You felt wild from the sensation of being so full of your soulmates, but you couldn't help but want more. “Want your cock inside me, too, Yoongi.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” He responded, pulling his finger out of you. After a moment, you felt the gentle nudge of his cock head against your ass. You stilled your motions, bottoming out on Joon’s dick as you waited with anticipation of being stuffed full with both of them. 

Slowly, inch by inch, Yoongi pushed into you.  “Fuck,” He bit out, “Joon, I can feel you.” 

You felt so satisfied as Yoongi’s hips pressed into you, his cock buried deep inside you.

Namjoon’s cock twitched inside you as he no doubt could feel Yoongi right back. “Please, my soul, I need to fuck you. Let us fuck you,” He begged, gazing down at you with pupils blown out wide.

“No,” You shook your head emphatically, “I’m going to fuck you.”

With that, you started riding Namjoon’s cock. Moving up and down his thick shaft, you guided Yoongi’s hands to your hips as he thrust in and out of you in time to your movements. Every time you sank down on Namjoon’s shaft, Yoongi thrust into your ass. It was exquisite.

You felt your orgasm coiling within you, burning brightly. You squeezed down, trying to prolong the sensation, rolling your hips.

“Godsdamn,” Yoongi moaned, “Your ass is so tight, my queen. I’m not going to last much longer.”

You shook your ass slightly just to tease him. Yoongi responded by biting your neck and muttering, “You’re such a witch.”

“You fucking know it,” You gasped out as Namjoon suddenly rolled your clit between his fingers. Pleasure shot through you as you writhed on top of them. Your walls clenched down as you hurtled towards bliss, your world going white. 

You could feel both of them coming inside you, painting your walls. The heat of their releases only added to the intensity of your orgasm as you flew over the edge, milking them with every pulse of your pussy. 

Slowly, you came down from your high, breathing hard. Collapsing against Joon’s chest, you nuzzled his neck.

You felt his chuckle before you heard it, “I think we tired her out, Yoongi.” 

“Yes, I think so, Joon,” Yoongi replied, slowly pulling out of you, “Let’s get you cleaned up. We have a private hot spring just outside.” 

Not one to be outdone, you straightened, hopping off Joon. Placing your hands on your hips, you leveled each of them with a devilish smile, “Hey, maybe I was pretending to be satisfied for your benefits, you old men.” 

“Old!?” Yoongi bellowed, so easily riled up. 

“Hmm,” Namjoon’s arms encircled you, hugging you to him. Bringing his mouth to your ear, he whispered, “You’re going to be a handful, aren’t you, my soul?”

“Undoubtedly,” You whispered back as Yoongi still fumes over being called old. Yeah, a witch could really get used to this.

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Soldier Boy (Part 2)

Summary: The reader spends the day with Dean getting to know him some more when she catches him in a lie and discovers one of his most dark secrets...

Masterlist

Pairing: Superhero!Dean x reader

Word Count: 2,600ish

Warnings: language, mentions of death, angst

A/N: Enjoy!

____

“So how old are you, Solider Boy?” you asked the next day as you walked around the park. 

“Thirty,” he said with a smirk.

“Solider Boy’s been around since the second world war. So. How old are you really?” you asked.

“I was eighteen when I was injected. I’ve aged very slowly. I do age, but it’s slow. They...I shouldn’t talk about this stuff,” he said, kicking at the ground with his boot. “Ah, fuck it, it’s in the news anyways.”

“The compound V?” you asked and he nodded.

“First successful try right here. I was still going through puberty so it took,” he said. “I guess. The science is very complicated they said. They just said you want to serve your country and I signed up.”

“What year were you born?”

“January 24th, 1926,” he said. You paused and he chuckled. “I know some women aren’t into older men.”

“I must seem like a child to you,” you said, walking again and crossing your arms.

“You’re twenty nine. I’m thirty. What’s such a big deal about that?” he smiled.

“You’re sweet,” you said. You dropped your hands by your sides, Dean taking one of them in his. “Old man ain’t wasting his time.”

“Keep it up, kiddo,” he laughed. You laced your fingers together with his hand and smiled as you looked at him. A flannel and t shirt. Jeans and boots. A baseball cap on his head. He looked so ordinary and yet he was the first superhero in existence. “I’m sure you’re wondering if I ever had a family.”

“A bit. It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” you said. 

“No, I want to. I don’t talk to anyone anymore. Aside from the people at Vought to try and get in The Seven but that’s like beating a dead horse at this point,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“Apparently I’m too similar in the market sector as Homelander. Go ‘merica and color scheme and that shit. I didn’t ask to be the leader or anything. I just...want to get off the kiddie squad, go do real shit out there, help people, not the stupid stuff I do now.”

“Maybe that’s why you don’t fit on The Seven. You want to help people, you don’t care about the photo op,” you said.

“I’m gonna keep trying,” he said. “But to answer your other question you didn’t ask, no, I never had a family. I had parents and a brother but they’ve all passed away. All my friends are gone. It never seemed right to love a girl and have a family and watch them all grow old and...honestly I didn’t want to watch my children grow older than me and die. I can’t imagine anything worse than outliving them.”

“You’re a good man, Dean.”

“I had the occasional acquaintance, don’t get me wrong. But it was always casual, no titles, nothing formal.”

“Is this casual?” you asked. He shook his head and you bumped his shoulder. “What’s different this time?”

“A chemical made me this way. Maybe a chemical can unmake me this way. We are so advanced now compared to back then. Maybe I can age normally with some other combination. Maybe I’m stuck like this forever. I just know that the numb pit inside of me woke the fuck up when I met you and it has been quiet for a very, very long time.”

“My mom’s quiet a bit older than my dad. Age gaps don’t scare me,” you said. He chuckled and you held onto his arm. “You don’t sparkle like the twilight guy though right?”

“Oh my God, no,” he laughed. “No sparkles here. I do make sparks when bullets bounce off of me though.”

“Well now you’re just bragging,” you said. You rested your head on his arm, thinking back to a movie you used to watch as a kid, Solider Boy the lead in the thing. “Dean.”

“Hm?”

“Why did you just lie about not having a family?” you asked, pulling away from him. You knew you could have let it go, should have let it go for the sake of the mission but damn you were pissed off at him for lying to you. You crossed your arms and he frowned, going over to a nearby bench. You sat down next to him, Solider Boy rubbing his hands together. “You were in this movie my brother loved so I watched it all the time. He was a huge fan and he would never shut up about you. I never paid much attention but I remember. You had a wife and kids once.”

“You’re gonna leave after I tell you this part,” he said, a sad smile on his face.

“I’m gonna leave if you don’t tell me the truth right now. You will never see my face again. You promised you would not lie to me. Out with it Dean.”

“I wasn’t always a good person. It’s very...difficult to stay good when there’s so much bad around you. When there’s no consequences.”

“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”

“My son and daughter died hating me, thinking I was a monster. They died because of me. That was the breaking point for me. I walked away after that, I started over. I’d turned into this thing I didn’t recognize. I became Soldier Boy. Dean Winchester...he died back in that war. Not until the nineties did I realize what had happened to me. So I left. Went away from the world. Brought Dean back to life and Soldier Boy came back but different. Good this time. Greed, corruption. It’s not happening this time. Then you said...you made that comment about me being naive, that I’d turn eventually into an asshole supe like the rest of them. I’m terrified of that happening to me again. Maybe that’s why I like you, cause you’ll remind me not to be a monster again.”

“Why do you call yourself a monster?” you asked quietly.

“The first time I killed someone, I was mortified. The last time I did it, I laughed. It made me happy. I hurt him before I did it even. I stopped caring about people. My wife wanted a divorce. I thought she was hot, she fit my image. I told her I didn’t want one so she took some pills and told me she’d rather die than live with the devil. My kids were young adults, late twenties. I snapped at them when they blamed me for their mother’s death. My son hit me so I pushed him and he hit his head. My daughter ran out, afraid of me and was hit by a car. They died because I didn’t want to lose my image. I wasn’t even that upset at first. I thought a widow superhero, that’ll boost my numbers.”

“If that didn’t…” you said, Dean running his hands over his thighs. “What made you change?”

“I found a drawing my daughter had made me when she was small,” he said. He took out his wallet and unfolded a laminated sheet of paper holding it out to you. It was done in crayon, a few stick figures with one of them wearing a superhero outfit and the word “daddy” written above it. “She loved me once. I ripped it away from her. I found that cleaning out the house and I realized what I’d done. I’m worse than any bad guy there ever was for doing that to them. I stopped caring. When you stop caring is when you lose those bits of your soul. They break off until there’s nothing left. I am a monster, Y/N. Nothing I ever do can make up for it and save whatever shattered pieces are in there. But I owe it to my kids to be good and stay good.”

You handed the sheet back and he tucked it away, his wallet going in his pocket as he stared out at the trees across the path. 

“I understand if you would no longer like to see or speak to me again. Or if you want to slap me in the face. That’s also acceptable,” he said.

“What year was all of this?” you asked.

“They died in ‘92. Then I ran away to Kansas, worked as a farmhand for a while,” he said. He rubbed his palm and stared down at his lap. “Just...be careful at night and try to stop walking down alleys for me, okay?”

“Why are you saying that?”

“I’m never going to see you again after you get up from this bench.”

You stood up and he let out a sigh. You took a step to your left and sat down closer to him, turning your head as Dean looked so horribly confused at you. You couldn’t walk away. It wasn’t an option. But while you knew you couldn’t walk because of the mission Butcher had you on, you didn’t want to. There was so much self-hate inside of Dean he hid well and part of you ached that he considered himself sub-human.

“Y/N, what are you doing?”

“Dean. What happened to your family was horrible but they were accidents. Your daughter, your son. Your wife, did she even let it sink in for you before she did that? If I was married to someone and they suddenly asked for a divorce my gut reaction would probably be no too. I’m not saying you didn’t play a part but those were her actions that trickled down and affected the rest of you. Letting yourself become corrupted means you’re human. We all make fucking mistakes. Yours are a little big, I admit that. But you try to make up for it. All you can do after the fact is try and you’re doing that. There’s a soul in there Dean. If there wasn’t this wouldn’t be eating you alive. Cut yourself a break. I gotta process everything you said but I’m not walking away. Promise you will never lie to me again and I can promise you that I won’t judge you, no matter what you’ve done.”

“I’ve been around 95 years and I’ve never met anyone like you,” he said. “That’s a good thing. I will never lie to you again. I swear. I’m sorry. I was...frightened of telling you who I was deep down. I like you. I’ve never felt like this before. It’s the first bit of happiness I’ve felt in a long time and I don’t want it to go away just yet.”

“It’s okay that you were scared. Maybe on our third date we can have a less intense conversation. We can talk about how you’re older than sliced bread,” you teased. 

“You youngin’s don’t know how good you got it,” he chuckled. You took his hand into your lap and he smiled. “Not a monster to you?”

“No. Just be a good guy and I’ll be happy,” you said. You leaned over and kissed his cheek, Dean looking you up and down.

“I wish I knew you when I was a dumb kid that let them shove that stuff in me. I never would have said yes if I had a girl back home.”

“Well, from now on, maybe just ask if you think I’d be proud of what you were doing. If the anwer’s no, maybe don’t do it,” you said.

“I’m gonna keep that one,” he said. “Also did you subtly drop that I’m getting another date despite all of that?”

“You told me the truth, even though it was hard. That’s why I like you too,” you said. “Plus you’re really old so you must have like, sex down to perfection by this point.”

“Gonna blow your fucking mind,” he teased. “Eventually. I know things are different nowadays but…you’re special. You’re not a hookup.”

“When you’re ready, you let me know and we’ll go from there, okay?” He nodded and you gave him a hug, Dean hesitant at first but he quickly relaxed into it. “You alright?”

“Been a long time since I had a hug is all.”

“You need one, just come to me,” you said. You sat back and he smiled. “So. Let’s go do something fun. You look like you could use it.”

“Night,” murmured Dean as he kissed you at your doorstep that evening.

“Night,” you said, not moving away from him just yet. His ears perked up and he forced himself away. “Trouble?”

“Yeah. Nothing major. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.

“Bye Dean,” you said, watching him take off running far faster than any human man could. You smiled as you locked up, a loud thud coming from your kitchen. You unlocked the door and looked around. “Hello?”

“For such a nice house you have an incredibly small kitchen,” said Butcher as he walked out with the bottle of your nicest bourbon.

“Oh come on, that was a housewarming present,” you said.

“I swipe you some more,” he said, taking a long swig. “How’s it going?”

“Good. We got close today but Butcher you seriously can not come back here again. Dean was this close to coming inside tonight.”

“Dean. I thought he was Solider Boy.”

“You know what I mean.”

“You want to wind up like his last broad did? You give him the puppy dog eyes and then we make a move,” he said.

“I’m starting to think we might get further with sugar over spice. Billy he wants to make up for his past. If he gets into The Seven he could be a serious asset.”

“Are you going soft on me?” he asked, an edge in his voice. 

“Let me work him the way I know best. Trust me,” you said.

“Don’t forget what this is for. You call when you’re ready,” he said. “Don’t take too long.”

He left out the back and you sighed, running your hands over your face. Sure, Dean had done some bad things in the past but who hadn’t? He wasn’t playing you, he had no reason to. The part of you that wanted revenge was still there but he didn’t cause your brother to die, not really. He was simply a prime target at the moment.

You swallowed and went to the kitchen, taking the bottle of alcohol to the family room. You sat on the couch and took a swig, letting it burn your throat.

You didn’t want him to get hurt. You liked him. A lot. Maybe you could convince him to go away, be someplace safer. Your head turned when you got a text, the alert saying it was from Dean and him asking you if you wanted to get out of the city and go hiking tomorrow.

Maybe that’d be a good time to tell him the truth. He was bound to find out eventually and if he got mad, at least you’d be the only one in danger. Billy’s voice was at the back of your head but you ignored it. He’d been angry for too long, couldn’t see the good in people anymore. Dean wasn’t what you thought he was at first. He was good deep down.

You’d tell Solider Boy the truth tomorrow and hoped you lived to see the next day.

______

A/N: Read the Final Part here!

[guiltysecretpasttime]

Homecoming - 2

This is the continuation of this prompt.

Lin/Tenzin, pre-canon AU, 2 of 2, T, completed.

----

“Hello?” Lin’s yelling was paused when the phone rang.

Tenzin’s continued words of apologies and evasion of flying folders and papers were cut short when Lin had to answer (irritably) the ringing phone. He bent over to pick up the scattered things, while listening to the one-sided conversation he could hear.

“Nothing’s wrong here. Of course not – yes, he is here.” Lin rolled her eyes. “There is no domestic disturbance at my address, I don’t know where that report even came from… Well, if they want to arrest someone, why don’t they arrest him?” She threw him an irritated look. “He is trespassing, isn’t he?”

At this, Tenzin frowned at her and dangled the house keys.

Who could she be talking to at this time of the night? Which police officer is responding to the call?

How can he be trespassing when he actually had keys? And as far as he knew, he lived here, didn’t he?

She snapped her fingers, asking him to hand over the keys.

Oh, damn he is screwed.

Lin leaned back at the headboard. “Okay, fine.” She placed a hand on her stomach. “I’m sure my blood pressure is fine… Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow… Love you too, Mom.”

Tenzin felt his stomach turn to lead.

If Lin reacted this way to him, Toph Beifong could do much worse.

And all because – at least from what he gathered from Lin’s invectives earlier– Lin’s letter informing him of her pregnancy did not reach him.

When the earthbender had suitably calmed down, Tenzin cautiously approached the bed with her paperwork. She was eying him with distrust.

At least she had stopped shouting or throwing things – so I count that as a win.

To his surprise, Lin offered the phone to him.

“Tenzin!” Toph’s gruff voice greeted him. “I don’t care what your excuse is but for tonight, make sure she relaxes. She’s on bed rest –.”

“Bed rest!”

Toph continued speaking as though he did not just interrupt her. “So, make sure she takes it easy and does not overexert herself.” She sighed. “You know what I mean, Airhead. No bedroom activities for the two of you.”

---

After a relatively painful call with Toph (where he was alternately scolded, reminded, threatened and advised), the airbender finally addressed the earthbender who was sitting in bed, protectively cradling her pregnant stomach.

“So,” Tenzin rubbed the back of his neck. “We’re having a child.” He sat the edge of the bed cautiously.

“Are we?” Lin asked back in challenge. “As far I know, you seemed to have washed your hands off of us the moment you left to fulfill your airbending duties.”

“No – I would never –,” He reached out to hold her hand, tightening when her grasp went limp. “You – the both of you – are my priority. Please don’t doubt that.” He looked straight into her eyes, trying to convey the truth behind his words.

Only their breathing can be heard for the next few moments.

“You never replied – I thought – we thought – you were gone. Then the acolytes responded and said you were there… I thought… you didn’t want it. You didn’t want…” Lin cleared her throat. “You were so pleased about being able to finally go around the temples. Having a child – well – I wouldn’t put it past you to stay behind because of responsibility, even if you didn’t want…”

At that point, her tears fell. This was the side of Lin Beifong that only few managed to see – one that was more human than her public persona allowed her to be. He was one of the few who she allowed to know about her insecurities and her fears.

Both of them had been raised in the public eye and they learned early on that their actions will be dissected by the press. They learned to be guarded – but not with each other.

Her mother had tried to protect her as much as she could but Lin learned the truth anyway. That her father had abandoned only remained with her mother as long as he could only due to a sense of duty to the unborn child. That when the opportunity came for him to jump ship, he did so without a backward glance.

Tenzin knew this was what was going through her mind with their current predicament.

He knew that words at this point would not mean anything to her as he pulled her into an embrace, letting her tears drop on his robes.

Tenzin knew he would do his best to reassure her.

---

The next few days were spent getting up to speed with Lin’s pregnancy. He wanted to know it all – how were her check-ups, what is the gestational age, are there any food or drink that she is not allowed to eat, etc. After that first night, Lin became apprehensive about what Tenzin thinks of fatherhood; she did have several weeks to get used to it but Tenzin, apparently was learning about it just now.

It seemed like she need not have worried, however, as the man reveled in it.

Katara had laughed at that, fondly saying that Aang is the same for each of their children.

To be fair, Toph had snorted, he was like that for all of the children born within their circle of friends, remembering that Aang was over the moon when Toph started showing with Lin.

---

Tenzin did not think the rest of the pregnancy would be spent in peaceful waiting if the succeeding days were a precedent as to what to expect.

It had been embarrassing enough to have his mother extract a promise from him to refrain from intercourse (“Stop cringing, Tenzin. If you’re old enough to be a father, you’re old enough to use the clinical term.”) in the next few months due to Lin’s delicate condition.

It became worse when Lin’s mother dropped by to bring in paperwork from headquarters. The older metalbender could not resist but comment about flighty airbenders doing the cut-and-run. That definitely did not do well to assuage Lin’s doubts.

His own father would likewise come by almost daily, bringing all sorts of food for Lin. Lin would graciously thank him and accept the gifts but would often ask him that he did not need to bring anything over. The Avatar would wave her concern away and say he was bringing over materials that Tenzin would need to work on anyway. Lin subtly implied that he need not stay in Republic City and he could go back to Air Temple Island to do whatever he needs to do for the Air Nation. This made Tenzin all the more adamant to work remotely from the house.

It also seemed like both of the Avatar’s sons took on the same anticipation and excitement in welcoming a child as Tenzin discovered that Bumi had taken to sending a knitted piece to Republic City every few weeks or so. Never mind that there were only so many bibs or bonnets a baby could use.

Their family, however well-meaning, tended to barge into their life – always checking in, always dropping by, always present.

Lin, being the well-mannered lady that she was, took it all in stride. While she would have previously scowled at her mother’s narratives or kept a polite face at his mother’s coddling, Tenzin saw her have a genuine smile at her face at their visits.

It was only one afternoon that Tenzin realized why.

He thought that they were simply falling into a routine when he came back. However, it became apparent to him that he was the one who has not yet assimilated into the established routine. With a pang, he realized their family had done what he should have been doing in the first place in supporting Lin in her pregnancy.

---

It was not quite the same home he had left.

Being away for months made it challenging for the airbender to reintegrate himself but he did manage bit by bit.

---

Lin really disliked being on bedrest. She had never been one for idleness, but she saw the necessity in taking it easy. She was determined to bring the child up to term and Lin Beifong is not anything but determined.

Nonetheless, this did not keep her from occasionally complaining; she did not like being dependent on others after all.

“I’m sorry Lin – but healer’s orders.” Tenzin handed her a book she requested; she was put out when he did not let her get out of bed and she had to wait for him to get it for her.

She thanked him though still with a frown on her face.  

Tenzin settled himself beside her in bed as they were wont to do before bedtime, taking out his own book to read. “Mother said you’ll likely be removed from bed rest in a few weeks’ time. Your mother did not have to go on extended bed rest and managed to work at the station back then. So mother is hopeful for you.”

Lin sighed and leaned back, lightly flipping through the pages of her book. “Well, that’s my mother. Unfortunately for me, I inherited the body type of my grandmother.”

They knew how difficult it was for Poppy Beifong to carry a child to term. As much as Lao and she wanted another child as a sibling to Toph, it had not been successful.

She saw Tenzin pause, recognizing the moment he understood what was not being said.

In true (and expected) airbender fashion, he did not address it head on and simply turned to focus on fluffing her pillows.

“Well, if you’re going to stay in bed much longer, we’ll have to make sure it’s a comfortable stay, right?”

She merely tilted her head in agreement, thankful that he did not push the issue.

---

Lin did not know what to expect from Tenzin when he said they will make the extended bed rest comfortable.

He arrived home one day with a lot of paper bags.

She had thought Bumi was ridiculous in sending a lot of baby clothes, but this did not even compare. Lin found Tenzin guilty of a shopping spree – his were of a complement to Bumi’s bibs and bonnets in the form of onesies, mittens and booties.

No matter, she thought, as she lightly fingered the texture of one of the green onesies, it pleased her to see Tenzin excited about the child.

---

As the weeks passed, Lin was able to finally convince Tenzin that she would be fine at home during the day with the staff and that he need not curtail his own activities.

During the day, after all, the household staff that Toph hired for them to clean and cook was around and could easily assist Lin with her needs.

The airbender still spent most of his time at home, working and keeping her company. But at least, his company was no longer limited to her and their family. Hopefully, Lin thought, it would keep him from being bored and restless.

She was pleasantly surprised when he arrived home on that first day.

He had been listening to her when they talked about food she missed and likely craved for. She was thankful for the food that Aang brings over and the food the chef cooks, however, there is only so much she could take of healthy and bordering on bland food.

Tenzin had gone out of his way to the other side of the city to bring home her favorite steamed buns. Steamed meat buns, that is. None of the vegetarian mush he enjoyed himself.

---

It became their ritual – whenever Tenzin goes out, they were sure to have a dinner that consists of Lin’s favorite foods.

---

“You keep eating more of that and we’re calling our baby Bao.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Doesn’t Bao Beifong sound nice?”

A pillow hit Tenzin in the face.

---

“Thanks, kid. Excellent paperwork as per usual, loved your penmanship.”

Lin rolled her eyes at her mother’s odd humor. She took the folder her mother brought in exchange for the reports she had completed. Before her mother leaves, Lin usually makes sure she had scanned through quickly the paperwork so she could ask questions if she has clarifications.

“There was a meeting earlier at City Hall.” Toph often shared with her about her workday. “I suppose you were the catalyst for this.”

“What? I don’t even get to leave the house, never mind the bedroom,” Lin felt defensive, thinking that Toph was about to blame her for something. “How can I have caused it?” She continued to go through the paperwork.

Toph clicked her tongue. “They’ve selected an air acolyte as the representative to the Air Temples.”

That got her full attention. “But Tenzin’s the current representative.” She put down the folder on her lap and turned to her mother. “He did not mention he was quitting.”

“He was not quitting per se, he would be still part of the Air Nation’s council staff – just not the one who would need to frequently travel around the temples.”

---

She was floored.

She never asked that of him.

The airbender had been talking about air temples and all things air nomad from they were kids.

Giving up this particular role – this is huge.

And if it was because of her – them – she corrected, rubbing her stomach, it was significant.

---

He did not bring it up that night.

She thought he would have done so the first thing he got home.

But he did not.

---

She brought it up two nights later, unable to keep the curiosity out of her voice.

The why hung between them.

He simply smiled back at her, his hand joining hers as their baby kicked.

“I know my priorities.”

---

The next day, she hands him back his keys.

Then maybe, he feels hopeful as he tightens his fist around it, maybe this is what it really feels like the beginning of a true homecoming.

-----

Note: And that’s that. Thoughts around it? Thanks for reading :)

[catxsnow]

PUPPY LOVE D.W.

Summary: Dogs always know best, you learned that pretty quickly. Little bit Older!Damian x reader

Warning: Nothing, 

A/N: I love Damian but also I feel like I can’t write him to save my life so I’m not really sure what tf this is but oh well. 

Also I expected maybe two or three likes on my tim imagine and the fact I got 20x as many notes as I expected makes my heart 🥺🥺🥺 thank you guys💕

picture not mine

Word count: 3.1k

You met Damian Wayne at the dog park in Gotham.

As first encounters go, that one had to have been at the bottom of your list of being enjoyable. His dog, which you had later discovers his name was Titus, was huge. He was a Great Dane and nothing less of a giant. You were surprised that Damian, as short as he was, was able to hold onto the leash when Titus tugged on it.

It wasn't the fact that Titus was huge, it was that your dog was little. If there was one thing that everyone knew about little dogs, it was that they had to find the biggest dog in the area and pick a fight. That was exactly what your little Terrier did.

You had let him off his leash so that you could play fetch with him but he quickly lost interest in the ball and more interest in the black Dane. Your dog barked and nipped at the legs of his dog until you ran over to snatch him up. What made the matter worse, was that it had to be the son of Bruce Wayne.

Damian pulled his own dog away from yours in hopes to protect him. The two of them were acting very calm about the situation while you were freaking out and struggling to hold you pup. He continued to bark until you finally held him mouth shut and chastised him to be quiet, thankfully he listened.

"I am so sorry," You finally looked over at Damian. He patted the top of his dog's head, who had sat right at his side. The Great Dane looked much more well behaved than your own dog. "Is your dog alright? Terry doesn't usually do this I have no idea where it came from, really."

Damian did a look over of his dog and ordered him to jump and twist. The movement proved that he was perfectly fine. You sighed with relief. "You named your terrier, Terry?" It was the first time that he had spoke to you since the encounter. A slight blush rose to your cheeks as you realized that he was mocking you.

"Yes," you mustered up all the confidence you could get. He didn't say anything but made a small noise that you barely picked up on. You took that as your cue to leave. "I'm sorry about him," you apologized once more and decided that it was time to leave the dog park before another mishap occurred.

You had heard about Damian before, everyone in Gotham had. The son of Bruce Wayne that he didn’t know about until after a decade. You knew that you were the same age as him and you also knew by his pictures in the paper that he was very attractive. Seeing him in person proved that the pictures didn’t do justice. 

Damian watched you walk away with a smile threatening to escape his lips. Terry the Terrier, what a joke. Yet, he thought the name was cute, but he also thought that Terry’s owner, was cuter. 

The moment that you and Terry were in your car, you slumped your head back on the head rest. That was an awful first meeting, especially with someone like him. You looked over at your dog, who was looking up at you with his tongue hanging out and you could swear he was smiling.

"He was cute, wasn't he?" You spoke to Terry. To your surprise, he barked back at you. "As glad as I am that you gave me an excuse to talk to him, you ruined it by attacking his dog so why should I care?"

><

The next time you saw Damian, you were walking through the park with Terry. It was a hot sunny day in Gotham, which didn't happen very often. Jean shorts showed off your legs and sunglasses rested on your nose. It was rare to see days like those and you planned to make the most of the outdoors.

You were in your own world when you heard your dog barking. Terry rarely barked for no reason so there had to have been something that set him off. Unfortunately, as you looked around, you saw a familiar Great Dane. Before Terry could try and pull the leash over to Damian and his dog, you snatched him up under your arm.

There was no way that you were willing to risk embarrassing yourself twice in front of the youngest Wayne. So, trying to avoid another encounter, you kept your head straight and walked along the path. Besides, you doubted that he would even recognize you after your brief meeting all those weeks ago.

That didn't mean that his dog didn't know yours or Terry's scent. Titus let out a loud bark that caught your attention and nearly made you jump. You had just passed by where Damian was sitting on the bench and turned back to see that he was already looking at you. Terry managed to wiggle out of your arms and onto the ground.

"Terry," You scolded.

"No, it's okay," Damian approached you. "Titus was the one to bark, it is not yours, or your dogs, fault." This time, the dogs only sniffed each other rather than attacking. A small break from the aggression that Terry was showing before.

"I don't know why he's so interested in - Titus," you hesitated to repeat the name of his dog, unsure if you heard him correctly. Damian picked up on your pause and nodded to confirm that you were correct. "We go for walks every day and he never gets worked up over seeing another dog."

To be honest, you were glad that Titus had noticed you. You didn’t want to have Terry cause another scene with them or go up to him out of the blue, yet you still wanted to talk to Damian. You were intrigued by him, the son of the richest man in the city and you kept finding him in the same places that you liked to be. 

"TT, Titus never barks," Damian agreed with your guys' dogs behavior. It was unusual. He looked down at your dog, and slowly dragged his gaze up your legs until he finally met your eyes. A faint blush covered his cheeks but in the bright sunlight, you didn’t notice. "I never learned your name last time."

"(Y/N)," You told him, sticking your hand out for him to shake. He paused for a moment before doing so and introducing himself. Of course, you already knew this but didn't say anything. "It's nice to meet you Damian. Sorry to disturb your afternoon, again."

"Nonsense," he told you. To be honest, he was quite glad that Titus grabbed you attention once more. He was curious to learn who you were after your first meeting with him. It was rare for someone to talk to him like a normal human, and as much as you were nervous around him, you tried to be normal.

"Um, I was just headed to get some iced coffee if you wanted to join me," You hesitantly asked. "Not that you have to or anything, but Terry looks like he has a crush on you and I wouldn't want to break his little heart." It was true, your dog had moved on from Titus and to the blood son himself.

However, you didn’t want to tell him that you too, wanted to spend a couple more minutes with him, at least. It wasn’t just your dog that was beginning to crush on him, you were pretty sure that you were too. It was strange, you barely even knew him and yet you couldn’t help but want to spend a few fleeing moments with him. 

Terry had started my sniffing around Damian's ankles, to walking between his legs and getting the leash all wrapped around him. Once he had finally found the perfect spot, he started up at Damian with the same kind of look that he gave you when you were holding a treat.

Damian got out of the maze of rope and knelt down to scratch Terry's belly, who had licked his hand the moment it came near. You swore you saw him smile at the interaction.

While Terry was getting attention from Damian, Titus decided that he wanted you to scratch by his ears. He nudged your hand with his nose and you quickly took the hint.

"It is a beautiful day out to go get iced coffee," Damian agreed. "And you're right, I wouldn't want to break Terry's heart either.

><

You had gotten Damian's number that day. He told you that if you ever wanted to see Titus or have a puppy play date then you should give him a call. Of course, you were surprised to see the son of Bruce Wayne give away his cell phone number so easily to someone that he barely knew.

After getting your drinks, the two of you sat out in the sun and chatter about your dogs, school, and the tiniest bit about family. All you knew was that he had a lot of brothers that often got on his nerves and of course who his father was.

By the time that Terry was wining at you to go home, you both decided that it was time to depart. Damian patted Terry once more and bid goodbye. Titus licked your hand before leaving as well. You walked in opposite direction but you couldn't help but feel a little excited for whenever your next meeting would be.

The contact sat in your phone, untouched and not thought about again for weeks. After the first few days of debating whether or not to text him, you had gotten busy with school work and his number became the least of your worries. It wasn't until you saw Bruce on the TV did you remember that you had his number.

You texted him on Saturday morning asking if he wanted to meet up at the same dog park that you both met. He texted back rather fast agreeing to the plans and that he would see you that afternoon.

Which was why you had gone through seven outfits before deciding on the perfect casual and cute look. This wasn't a date, not even close to one, but this was also Damian Wayne, the same guy that wore expensive cashmere as a causal look. You wanted to look a little bit nice if you were going to be seen with him.

Ten minutes before he was supposed to arrive, you sat in your car talking to Terry. It was a habit that you gained from spending a little too much time by yourself. Then again, was there better company than your dog?

"This isn't a date, Terry. This is two friends meeting up because we both have dogs," you looked over at him. "Damian comes from a completely different world than us anyways, it's never going to happen, as much as you and I would like it to."

Once again, Terry barked at you in response. With a sigh, you left your car and walked over to the entrance of the park. Damian wasn't there yet but your dog was a little to excited to just sit and wait. You settled with letting him off leash and throwing his ball for him to fetch.

Terry came racing past you at such high speeds you didn't think he was going to be able to stop. And he hadn't, he went running past your spot and right towards Damian. You rolled your eyes at your dog. By his attitude, you were starting to think Terry liked Damian more than you. 

"Hello, (Y/N)," Damian joined you. It didn't take long for your dogs to go play together and the two of you stood side by side watching them. You didn't quite trust Terry enough to not keep an eye on him.

He held a small frame in his hand and you wondered what it could be. Damian noticed your eyes it and handed it over to you. "I saw this the other day and thought of Terry."

It was a small framed picture of a hand drawn terrier and painted with water colours. It was beautiful. Damian would never admit to you that he didn’t buy it, but painted it himself. "It's yours."

He pushed the gift a little closer to you until you grabbed it. "Thank you, Damian. It's beautiful."

"You're welcome," he nodded. If there was one thing you quickly noticed about him, it was that he was a man of few words. He choose his words precisely and accurately. "How has school been?"

You were in the same grade as him, but different high schools. While he went to a private school, you weren't quite a privileged and had to go to a public school. It was fine, but university out of the city was calling your name and the time couldn’t pass by any slower.

"Busy," you shrugged. Truth be told you barely had time for anything. This was the first free moment you had in weeks and somehow you managed to spend it with Damian. "How about you?"

"Busy," he raised an eyebrow at you, the hint of a smirk on his lips. He was mocking you, again. "Do you have plans? After graduation?"

"Central City," you told him. "I want to go to school there for -"

You never got to finish your sentence. The two of you had lost track of your dogs and neither of you had noticed Titus barreling towards you. There was no way you could have moved in time or that he was going to stop.

Titus towered over you as he jumped towards you. You braved yourself to hit the grass but it had never come. Instead arms caught you and steadied you back on your feet. Damian managed to keep you from falling with amazing strengthens lightning quick reflexes.

He didn't let go of you like expected. Instead he looked at the growing wonder in your eyes and the realization of how close you were. You swore that he could hear your heart thumping in your chest. 

Both your dogs barked at you and brought you out of the brief moment. Damian dropped his arms and you awkwardly stepped back. You straightened your clothing and tried to tame the bright flush that rose up your neck. Damian cleared his throat and put his hands in his pockets. 

"Thanks, for the save."

><

You kept the picture that Damian gave you on your desk in your room. Your mother, who always snooped through your room was quick to find it. She asked where you had found such a beautiful painting and after a moment of debating, you chose to tell her the truth. You were friends with Damian Wayne.

Growing up, you always figured that your mother had a little bit of a crush on Bruce Wayne. How could she not? He was rich, attractive, a great business man, he was perfect. You and your mother kept that little secret from your father - who you also suspected the attraction.

So when you told her that you knew his son, she had nearly squealed with excitement. And the fact that he had given you a gift as well? Your mother was already to start planning the wedding.

You were just friends with him, there was no need for her to freak out over this. However, you couldn't stop thinking about that brief moment that the two of you had a couple days before. Damian had the most mesmerizing green eyes that you had ever encountered in your life and you wanted nothing more than to look into them again.

However, you refrained from texting him about plans again. You talked to him daily since your last hang out but didn't want to force another puppy date - or just the two of you - for at least a few more days. He was a good friend, and you didn't want to spook him off before you got the chance to know him better.

Lucky for you, you never needed to worry about plans. Damian texted you the address of what you assumed to be a coffee shop just over a week since you had last seen him. You had to admit that waking up to his text Sunday morning had caused your heart to flutter with excitement.

By the time that you were dressed and on your way to the right place, it was just about ten in the morning. Terry was in your passenger's seat and his head was sticking out the window. As you pulled into the small parking space, you saw Damian waiting alone just outside the door.

His black hair was slicked back - different that it was every other time you saw him. You liked it that way, it showed off all his features and made it easier for you to admire. "Guess you weren't supposed to come, Ter," You looked over at your dog. "Oh well, too late now. Wish me luck, bud," you raised your hand for him to 'high-five', a trick you taught him a while ago.

Terry walked in front of you and was excited the moment that he laid eyes on Damian. He smiled as he saw you, an action you weren't expecting. "Sorry, I mentioned your name this morning and he wouldn't let me leave the house without him."

"You talk to him a lot, you know," Damian pointed out. A faint blush rose up your neck. "I saw you, both times in the car." Your cheeks felt like they were on fire - this could not be happening. He laughed at your embarrassment, the kind of teasing that made you wonder if he was trying to flirt. You desperately hoped that was the case. 

Damian had the tendency to tease you lots when you spend time with him. Most of the time you could tell that he was joking, but the other majority of the time you couldn’t help but feel that there was more too it. A glimmer of something would shine in his eyes - a look that you couldn’t help but melt under. 

"No worries, I talk to Titus all the time. He's the only one that doesn't come up with idiotic responses,” Damian assured, placing his hand on your shoulder. It was the first time that he had even come near to touching you on purpose and the shiver that ran up your spine had to have meant something. 

"Dogs truly are man's best friend," You agreed. Damian retracted his hand and reached down to pat Terry on the head for a brief moment. 

"Wait until you see my pet cow."

"You have a cow?" You didn't know what was more shocking - the fact that he truly owned a cow or that he wished you to come visit him at his home. Damian only nodded, he had many pets.

Terry was aimlessly walked between yours and Damian's legs. You didn't realize how much available leash he had until he had completely wrapped himself around the both of you. You weren't paying any attention to him - which once again had been a mistake on your behalf.

Another dog walked by on the street. Terry wasn't big, or strong, but when he wanted to pull, he could give a vicious tug. This happened just at the wrong time. You were trying to untangle yourself and as Terry tried to attack the passing dog, he had forced you to lose balance.

Once again, Damian had managed to catch up before you landed on the cement. You had gotten your wish of wanting to be close to him again. To smell the sharp cologne he wore and notice all the little imperfections on his face. The faint scars, the freckles on his dark skin. He truly was just as beautiful, if not more, as his father.

"I think our dogs are trying to get us together," You blurted out. First Titus, now Terry. They were the reason that you had met and the reason that you had stumbled into his arms twice now. You hadn't meant to speak you thoughts but it was true. You really thought that the dogs were aware of your feelings and were trying to make you act on them.

"I don't know about you and Terry, but I trust Titus with my life."

[twobitmulder]

When did Storm Shadow Become a Villain?

There is a scene in GI Joe Resolute where Snake Eyes and Storm Shadow are having their obligatory Ninja Battle and (Spoilers I Guess) Storm Shadow reveals that he orchestrated his uncle, The Hard Master’s, death and that he fully meant to kill Snake Eyes as well, out of jealousy and because his uncle would not teach him the final secret to killing a man in seven steps, fearing that young Storm Shadow was too volatile and violent. Towards the end of the battle Storm Shadows wrist bands come off, revealing his Arashikage tattoo on one arm and a Cobra Sigil on the other.

This version of Storm Shadow (Voiced by “every Beagle Boy on Ducktales” Eric Bauza) stands out amongst his post-2000 incarnations as an unrepentant psychopath, but still falls in line with the prominent view of Storm Shadow as a villain--one of the main villains with a special hatred for his GI Joe counterpart.

This is the version I grew up with. GI Joe vs Cobra through Sigma 6 were the prominent Joe adaptations when I was the target demographic and all throughout Storm Shadow was a bad guy to varying degrees. 

I knew in the classic Hama stuff he eventually defected, but I was not prepared for just how much he’s a heroic character from the start. There’s no big sword dual with Snake Eyes, no Anakin and Obi Wan style “friend turned bitter enemy” dynamic. It’s made clear from jump that Tommy is undercover in Cobra and remains an honorable man in search of justice. He leaves Cobra quickly and is branded as a Joe in all his figures until 2000--when they started packing their characters in two-packs with one Joe and one Cobra. In all appearances, Storm Shadow is more a Joe than a Cobra. So what led to the the modern view of Storm Shadow as a bad guy, who, even when he gets his redemption, still has a mean streak and a cruel manner? How did a character in a toy driven franchise who had more toys as a hero than a villain end up as one of the franchise’s most consistent villains?

*(For simplicity’s sake, this is only going to cover film and television portrayals of the character).

*Spoilers for pretty much every GI Joe adaptation to follow.

The first portrayal of Storm Shadow as Cobra Commander’s loyal and competent hatchet man (one of the few) is not too much older than Hama’s original Marvel version. The Sunbow version of Storm Shadow (voiced by “guy you’ve heard in everything” Keone Young) remained a loyal cobra agent--with none of the Hama version’s depth. 

He had what you might call “standard cartoon Ninja honor” where he clearly had some kind of code of ethics, but was primarily an arrogant killer (as much as he could be in a cartoon) who fought primarily with Spirit and Quick Kick (voiced by wonderfully talented “guy you’ve seen in everything” Francois Chau) as Snake Eyes was largely shunted to the side in the cartoon. The echoes of Sunbow Storm Shadow can be seen in pretty much every non-comic adaptation that followed.

Skipping right over the Dic continuation of the Sunbow cartoon because Storm Shadow actually is a Joe in that, as he was in the comics and figures of the time (and because I haven’t seen it) we come to the 2000′s era.

The Spy Troops and Valor vs. Venom DTV movies had a Storm Shadow (voiced by “guy who got his blood ripped out by Magneto in X2: X-Men United” Ty Olsson) who was essentially his Sunbow self with one major change. He actually had a history with Snake Eyes, and a bitter rivalry. The details are not gone into in either film (you get a little more in the figure file cards and mini-comics of the era) but Storm Shadow accuses Snake Eyes of betraying the Arashikage. The implication being that either Storm Shadow blames Snake Eyes for some crime or another or that there was a schism in clan. 

The File cards of the time movie go from acknowledging Storm Shadow’s time as a Joe, and claiming he’s working with Cobra again for unknown reasons, to establishing their own canon that Snake Eyes and Storm Shadow were once best friends and “Sword Brothers” before Storm Shadow fell to the dark side and joined Cobra. Though Storm Shadow’s file card does end with the ominous implication that he’s got his own agenda in working with Cobra (just like his Hama incarnation) the DTV films imply that he’s a Cobra loyalist in addition to his feud with Snake Eyes.

Spy Troops and Valor vs. Venom lead in a semi-canonical way to GI Joe Sigma 6 where Storm Shadow (voiced by “guy whose only other role I recognize is pulling double duty as Zeke Stane and Living Laser in the Iron Man 3 videogame” Tom Wayland) more or less continues the previous two iterations’ version of Storm Shadow. He once again accuses Snake Eyes of some great betrayal that broke their friendship. The GI Joe website at the time includes the detail that Storm Shadow was infiltrating Cobra when he was brainwashed into becoming a loyal Cobra agent. It’s another concession, like his 2001 file card, to Hama’s heroic double agent, while still portraying him in line with Sunbow’s villainous henchman. 

GI Joe Resolute comes next, where we see a departure from any pretense of Storm Shadow being a good guy. Resolute, in many ways, comes off as a gritty direct continuation of the Sunbow series, and it takes Sunbow’s villainous Storm Shadow and strips him of even the token bits of honor and humanity he had. It also, as near as I can tell, begins the trend of Storm Shadow outright resenting Snake Eyes, rather than being his one time friend.

As an irrelevant aside, I have my problems with Resolute but I do love everyone’s character designs and Eric Bauza does a fantastic job as one fourth of the cast. His Sean Connery impression for Destro is particularly inspired.

This brings us to the big ones. GI Joe: RIse of Cobra and GI Joe: Retaliation where Storm Shadow is brought to the big screen by Lee Byung-Hun (who I don’t have a snarky/informative aside for because shamefully despite how prolific he is I’ve only seen him in these movies and The Magnificent 7 remake) and as a child by Brandon Soo Hoo (he’s also been in a lot of stuff, but I particularly liked his turn as Beast Boy in the animated New 52 DC movies).

Lee’s Storm Shadow in the first film falls in line with his portrayals up to this point, probably skewing most closely towards Sunbow. He has a code of ethics (he doesn’t kill women apparently) but he’s still a bad guy and he seems to quite like it. Lee brings a charm to the character that had not really existed up until that point. He also spends a lot of time maskless (and it’s hard to blame the production team for that one, he’s a very handsome dude) which was a shock for anyone who grew up with the 2001 era storm shadow where the thought of him without a mask was so insane that it was relegated to a mail in figure (As a kid I seriously thought he had some Mandalorian style code of not removing it)

His origin in this version takes bits of Hama and bits of Resolute (or Resolute took from this, Resolute came out first but this might have been in development). It is, as far as I can tell, the first version to have Storm Shadow and Snake Eyes train together as children and it portrays Storm Shadow, even as a child, as an arrogant and jealous person.

Now, at least in my opinion, it’s fairly obvious that the first movie fully intended Storm Shadow to be a baddie, full stop. There’s a little wiggle room given that we never see him stab The Hard Master in the flashback (the Hard Master in this version is Storm Shadow’s father rather than his uncle) but the way he taunts Snake Eyes about it during their final confrontation makes a pretty compelling case for his having committed patricide.

The sequel would bring back elements of the Hama backstory. Zartan killed The Hard Master and Storm Shadow had to infiltrate Cobra to discover that. Given Cobra Commander and Storm Shadow are of roughly the same age (Storm Shadow being a bit older I think) and this event occurred when they were both children it’s unclear on who’s orders Zartan did this but we do know it was done to turn the already volatile young man into the perfect angry ninja assassin (given this canon is pretty much over we’ll probably never know for sure, but my guess based on the IDW movie universe comics is that Zartan either did it at the behest of the Red Ninja Clan or just to have a tiny assassin of his own, probably the former since they seem to regard each other as unpleasant colleagues who sometimes work together).

What I particularly like about this version is that, because the first movie portrayed him as this charmingly sadistic Bond Villain henchman, even after he switches sides in the sequel he’s still kind of a belligerent dick. It’s a fun piece of characterization that even once he’s cleared his name, avenged his father, and made his peace with his family, it doesn’t change the fundamental fact that he’s not a very nice person.

This is something that would persist into the next (and for the moment last, but more on that later) onscreen version of Storm Shadow.

GI Joe Renegades (the best GI Joe Cartoon, fight me) saw Storm Shadow (voiced by “holy crap this guy originated the role of Saw Gerrera in Clone Wars” Andrew Kishino) as the leader of the Arashikage Clan (explicitly a crime syndicate, harkening back to implications in Hama’s version) who operates independent of Cobra except very briefly and only to fulfill his own ends (again bringing him closer to Hama’s version than any of his predecessors). Falling in line with the implications of the movie and Resolute, he and Snake Eyes were uneasy classmates more than friends and trained together as teenagers. An attempt to kill Snake Eyes went awry and resulted in the death of the Hard Master (who again, seemed to favor Snake Eyes over his own nephew). Storm Shadow believes Snake Eyes to have killed The Hard Master(somehow failing to connect the dots given his own murder plan failed the same night Snake Eyes allegedly murdered his uncle--or hell he’s probably just in denial until the truth slaps him in the face). 

Also, irrelevant aside number 2, in contrast with Resolute I really don’t like this character design. Renegades had pretty good character design all around, neatly bringing together various versions in a way that felt coherent but I don’t like the little tufts of hair sticking out of the mask or the way it kinda hangs in front of his mouth. Is he hiding his face or not? It seems like he’s not so much wearing a mask as a bandana and an oversized turtleneck.

This version neatly ties together the “Snake Eyes betrayed us” of the early 2000′s, the “arrogant unfavorite” of the mid 2000s and the “out for justice assassin” of Hama’s run. He is, again, an arrogant prick from the start, but his genuine shame and resolve to abandon his quest for vengeance and his extremely short partnership with Cobra make his eventual redemption (or the start of what you assume would have been a longer redemption arc had the series continued) more believable than the live action movies--if a mite less fun.

And that’s where it ends, at least until the much delayed Snake Eyes live action movie is finally released, where Storm Shadow is set to be played by “guy from the best episode of American Gods Season 2″ Andrew Koji. I quite like the look of the cast of this movie, and I’m excited to see what Koji brings to the role. Will Storm Shadow be arrogant, murderous, honorable, charming, brooding, misunderstood, cruel, vengeful...some impossible combination of all of the above? We’ll have to wait and see.

*Including the various alternate comic book versions probably would have painted a more complete picture, but I’ve only read Hama’s run and the IDW reboot (where Storm Shadow is kind of a non-entity), besides this was more about tracing Storm Shadow through the adaptations I watched as a kid.

*None of the adaptations seem to go with Hama’s original detail that Storm Shadow and Jinx were from Northern California. On the one hand I see why you transplant them to Japan with the rest of their family (it’s a globetrotting element and makes the cast more cosmopolitan) but I always liked the idea of that they were children of immigrants.

*Adaptations have been touch and go about casting Japanese actors in the role but I was impressed to find out that Sunbow cast Japanese Americans as both Storm Shadow and Jinx, making them probably the most faithful casting in relation to their original backstories.

*Apologies for my complete inability to get screenshots of roughly the same size or resolution.

[bard-llama]

WiP Wednesday: Love Breeds Love Isendain Edition

So, I have a porny universe called Love Breeds Love where the premise is that settlements across the Northern Kingdoms are being founded with the intent to save the elven race from extinction.

Now, for Iorveth and Roche, we discover that the settlement they're living in (Aiseirigh meaning rebirth/resurrection) is dedicated to doing this through accepting half-elves and creating more half-elves, because humans are very good at breeding. This means adjusting their culture as they share it, because half-elves and humans have their own experiences they're bringing to the settlement.

For some elves, that is simply not acceptable. They don't want human blood to taint their 'purity'. So they commit to working with elven couples to make babies. Their birth rate is much lower, but they argue that their product is better. (For the record: when you hear this kind of rhetoric, run. It's VERY eugenicist and suuuuuper racist).

Isengrim and Eldain both find themselves at one of the latter settlements (which I haven't named yet oops). They don't arrive together, though. In fact, they hadn't expected to see each other at all, though it's nice to see that rumors of each other's deaths were greatly exaggerated.

Because of the way I've made elven biology work, it's really important for the volunteers at this pure elven settlement choose a partner and really get to know them, get comfortable with them. This increases their chances of conception actually happening. I haven't actually decided if only one or both get pregnant, but they did decide to have some 'practice sex', to ensure their comfort. XD

I'll stick a bit of the WiP under a cut, but the really fun thing about this 'verse (aside from literally just being an excuse for breeding kink) is that the two settlements have to actually MEET at some point. At which point, rorveth and isendain discover each other and have a variety of reactions.

'cause see, Eldain doesn't like humans and he doesn't trust humans. He's made that mistake before and he refuses to do it again. So he is perfectly happy with the idea of living amongst elves and never having contact with a filthy human again.

But life isn't that easy and Isengrim and Iorveth are still old friends, though it's definitely awkward at first. But over time, Roche becomes the first human that Eldain actually feels comfortable around and they become bros. They most definitely bond over being feral raccoon disasters while their partners are fancy shmancy proper and polished types lmao. Oh, also, Iorveth and Eldain may both be musicians, but they despise each other's genres XD

I mentioned that this universe was just an excuse to write porn, right? So I've got a whole arc planned for isendain to meet up and bond with rorveth, but first, they all gotta get bred, 'cause that's the premise of the 'vese lmao. So this first isendain fic is the set up - establishing the settlement, getting them together, going through the breeding ceremony, etc. The sex is unfortunately fighting me during the 'practice sex' stage, but eventually, this will be a nice, long smutty piece. For now, though, here's them actually meeting again.

He’d arrived at the settlement alone, responding to a notice on saving the elven race, and he’d been astonished at how many people had actually shown up to do this. Of course, out of the thirty elves that had come to be bred, only a small portion would actually be able to conceive.

Eldain swallowed, wondering if he’d be one. He wasn’t sure if he was hoping that he would or that he wouldn’t, honestly, but hell, he was already here. He couldn’t back out now.

Which meant he had to find himself a partner. The notice had specified that single volunteers were welcome along with couples that were willing to conceive, but the first thing the elf who greeted him when he’d arrived had said was, “pick someone and get to know them. The actual breeding will not begin until this evening, but it’s important that you spend some time with your partner and become comfortable with them.”

Eldain had nodded, aware that feeling safe and comfortable was essential for elves to produce viable eggs and for them to be able to conceive. But he hadn’t realized just how many people there were and how daunting trying to choose one stranger out of two dozen would be.

So when he spotted the scarred man with dark hair that stood about two inches above everyone else, Eldain’s first emotion was relief. In more than one way, because this was someone he actually knew, but also, he’d heard that the other elf was dead. Of course, they’d likely heard the same about him, so Eldain shook himself and strode towards the famed Iron Wolf.

When he got closer, it became apparent that he was not the only one who had recognized Isengrim Faoiltiarna, because several other elves were circled around him, trying to persuade him to pick them.

The feeling in Eldain’s stomach was not jealousy, nor was it disappointment. It wasn’t like Isengrim was likely to choose him amongst all these choices. Hell, when they’d met in the past, he’d gotten the impression that Isengrim tolerated him at best.

Nodding to himself, he spun on his heels to find someone else to partner with when Isengrim apparently spotted him and called his name, a little bit desperately.

He couldn’t exactly walk away now, so Eldain turned back and walked up to Isengrim and his pursuers, forcing a friendly smirk onto his face. “Hey,” he started to say when Isengrim grabbed his shoulders and pulled him close in an overly familiar hug. Before he could say anything, Isengrim murmured in his ear.

“If you pick me, I swear I will owe you a favour of your choosing,” Isengrim’s low voice growled and Eldain shivered, Isengrim’s breath tickling over his exposed skin.

Pick Isengrim? Sure, twist his arm. That had, after all, been his initial intent. But he wasn’t sure why Isengrim was asking when Isengrim was the one with the pick of the place.

“Yeah, all right,” Eldain shrugged, trying to exude casualness. He was obviously just doing this for the favour. No other reason. “Shall we find somewhere to chat, then? Apparently we’re supposed to get to know each other.”

The look of sheer relief on the Iron Wolf’s face was strange to be on the receiving end of. But Isengrim slipped his arm through Eldain’s, immediately pulling them away and guiding the pair towards the garden.

Eldain looked around, mildly impressed. For a new settlement, these organizers were doing a pretty good job and getting it up and running.

Which made sense, given they were hoping that this event would culminate with many pregnant elves.

“So,” Eldain drawled, surprised by how much he liked the feeling of Isengrim’s fingers against the crook of his arm. “Seems like you’re a big hit.”

Isengrim’s nose wrinkled in a strangely adorable expression and Eldain bit his lip against a smile. “Apparently there is potential acclaim in having the Iron Wolf’s child. Even though, as I understand it, the point of this event is not about genetics as much as just…”

“Conception?” Eldain offered, and Isengrim nodded, frowning. “So why choose me? Do I not get the same acclaim?”

Isengrim snorted, “you have your own acclaim. Though, speaking of, I’d heard you were dead?”

“Likewise. It was a close ‘almost’,” Eldain shrugged, trying not to let the memories flood through him. He cleared his throat instead. “And you?”

Isengrim made a face, “believe it or not, I owe my survival to a human.”

“You’re kidding.”

The Iron Wolf shook his head, looking every bit as imposing now standing in an early-stage gardener’s plot as he had commanding Scoia’tael into battle.

Eldain licked his lips. Sure, he may have his own ‘acclaim’ in the form of a brutal reputation that was based mostly on real events, but there would always be something majestic about the Iron Wolf that people like Eldain could never match.

“Well, I doubt either of us want to talk more about that,” he said, jerking his gaze away from Isengrim’s face and continuing their walk through the garden. “So, what have you been up to?”

“Oh, you know,” Isengrim shrugged casually, “fighting, assassinating kings, that kind of thing.”

Eldain blinked, gaze landing on Isengrim again. Isengrim had a little smirk on his face, like he was enjoying Eldain’s reaction, but there was no sign that he wasn’t telling the truth.

“Wow, and here I thought I was doing well with my best kill being a duke,” Eldain joked, smiling back at Isengrim.

Isengrim tossed back his head and laughed, deep, rumbling sounds that felt at home settling in Eldain’s chest. Weird.

“What about you?” Isengrim asked after his laughter had passed. “What’s keeping you busy these days?”

“Eh, I’ve been working as a merc,” Eldain said, wondering if Isengrim would judge him. It was always hard to predict with Scoia’tael – some thought fighting for money was horrific and some thought it was sensible. He didn’t know what Isengrim thought.

“Oh? Around Aedirn?”

“All over,” Eldain shrugged. It had taken him about a year to be ready to return to Aedirn after everything with fucking Queen Meve. She was a perfect example of why humans could never be trusted. Ever.

He swallowed hard. “So, what do you think about this event?”

Isengrim huffed a soft laugh. “At my age, I kinda figured my chances of having a child were pretty slim. But…”

“Yeah,” Eldain nodded, understanding the unspoken reason. How could they not, when the very fate of their species lay in peril?

“But you’re pretty young, aren’t you?” Isengrim asked him. “Is this your first time doing this?”

Eldain hummed, pondering exactly how much older Isengrim was. The Iron Wolf had lived pre-humanity, Eldain knew that much. Most of the Scoia’tael commanders had been older elves that had been born before the Conjunction of the Spheres. Eldain had been unusual in gaining his command, but none of the elder elves ever had the balls to take on the Moulderwoods, so it had fallen to Eldain and all the younger elves who had been born there. Not that there were many of them left anymore, not after...

Eldain shook himself. If he kept thinking about his old command and his old home, he was either going to scream or cry, so he very pointedly redirected his thoughts to his companion.

Isengrim looked – pretty great, actually, for someone who was supposed to be dead. But then, Eldain wasn’t entirely sure it was possible for the Iron Wolf to look anything but gorgeous and commanding and in control.

“So, Isengrim,” he enunciated Isengrim’s name clearly and Isengrim cocked an eyebrow, one that was split by the scar that spanned across his nose. It was kind of beautiful. “What do we need to know about each other to be able to comfortably fuck?”

Isengrim choked slightly at him being so blatant about it, but seriously, they were at a breeding event. There was nothing un-crass about this whole thing.

“Well,” Isengrim cleared his throat. “Um, I guess… I have no idea,” he said after a long moment. “Um, maybe preferences, I guess?”

Eldain snorted, “feels like an icebreaker question. ‘Hi, I’m Eldain and I prefer men.’”

“Any man?” Isengrim’s eyebrow arched again. “Or specifically one who can put a brat like you in their place?”

Eldain’s breathing hitched and his exhale was shaky. “That helps,” he managed to say, and Isengrim’s mouth twitched into a smirk. “And what does the Iron Wolf prefer?”

Isengrim’s nose wrinkled again, clearly uncomfortable with his moniker in this context. Eldain made a note of that. “Apparently,” Isengrim said slowly, “my type is bratty musicians.”

Blinking, Eldain took a moment to process that, then grinned widely, bowing and flourishing his hand in front of him. “At your service.”

Isengrim laughed again, shaking his head. “What kind of music do you play, anyway? All the rumors said was ‘former musician’.”

Eldain tsked, “really, Isengrim, don’t you know better than to believe rumors?” Isengrim rolled his eyes and Eldain laughed. “Mostly, I play the lute and the fiddle, though I know several other instruments. I’m a modern musician, none of that classical shit.” He shut his mouth, abruptly realizing that Isengrim had been alive when those ‘classics’ were new, and may have been attached to them.

Fortunately, Isengrim just chuckled. “You’d probably get along terribly with my ex. He’s very much a classicist.”

“Oh?

“Played with symphonies and stuff, way back,” Isengrim said, a soft smile on his face that Eldain knew wasn’t for him.

He cleared his throat, looking away from Isengrim’s face. It wasn’t as if he was in love with Isengrim or anything, but it still hurt a little bit to be reminded that this was all to save their species. Isengrim had chosen him, sure, and that was an honor. But it was nothing more than sex. He needed to remember that.

Swallowing hard, Eldain forced a smile on his face. “Bet I’m a better musician,” he taunted, and Isengrim laughed again.

“You might be,” Isengrim conceded. “Would you play for me?”

Blinking in surprise, Eldain looked back at Isengrim. The smile on his face was different now, not like he was thinking of a past love, but like it was intended for Eldain.

This time, he swallowed down an entirely different emotion. “Yeah,” he managed to say. “Um, lemme–” he cleared his throat again, cursing himself for leaving his lute with his stuff in the room the organizers had given him.

Isengrim licked his lips and suggested, “I could come with you.”

“Uh, sure,” Eldain shrugged, wondering why he felt like a teenager bringing a boy home for the first time.

Isengrim’s smile widened, and he stepped up to curl his hand around Eldain’s elbow again. Eldain bit his lip against his own smile, leading them towards the rooms for volunteers.

[mwolf0epsilon]

“Eps’s Notes on The Illusion of Living”

It's taken me nearly three months to get this done due to writer’s block kicking my sorry butt. But, as promised, here are my notes on the "Illusion of Living". Good god has this been painful… But I did have a lot of stuff I initially thought of Joey somewhat confirmed for me, and got a few extra interesting tidbits of info that I feel are very curious...

--{Key}--

Italics are my opinion

--{Key}--

--{Quick retelling of the book’s contents}--

    The Drews were among the more impoverished families in New Jersey, and Joey's father briefly worked in the silk industry to make end's meet before opening his own shoe store (that his mother oversaw profits for as the accountant). As such there were obvious limitations to a lot of Joey’s upbringing (like a lack of toys to entertain him with, and very few family vacations/trips that were memorable).

According to Joey, the shoes sold at his family’s store were primarily designed for people in the working class (clunky shoes and boots that would endure wear and tear rather than be flashy or comfortable to wear, which Joey complained never really fit him right), and had one singular design that was simply improved upon rather than any variety (I suppose the saying here would be “don’t fix it if it ain’t broke” but Joey really seemed to have some sort of issue with this, as he disliked his father’s works).

    Joey's mother was a hardworking housewife and the primary parent when it came to rearing her child. She educated and played with him more than his father, so Joey was much fonder and emotionally close to her than to him and, while Joey’s father wasn’t an absent parent by any means, he was definitely more engrossed in working to sustain the family.

This family dynamic definitely had some impact on Joey, especially since his mother got him interested in the art of storytelling in general, and he seemed to have a lot more respect for her than for his father. In fact he even had a few reservations regarding his father’s mental integrity when he discovered his talent for making voices in a rather odd manner.

It should be noted here that, while Joey's father was strong, he looked deceptively frail and wasn't considered a particularly brave man by any means. He was however regarded as a bit of an entrepreneur, and Joey was very concerned that he may not be sane (which was a bit of taboo at the time, considering treatment for mental health issues hadn’t advanced past lobotomies and other disturbing medical malpractices) because he talked and sang to himself in curious little voices while he worked. Curiously enough, while a patient and loving man, Joey's father wasn't aversed to cursing around his young son (although Joey himself doesn't seem to use crass language, even if it was normalized in the household). Another curious thing to note is that Joey greatly dislikes mud, and especially hated it as a child (alluding to his later obsessive cleanliness as an adult).

    Because of the financial issues his family suffered through, Joey didn't have a radio or many books growing up, and was thus more fond of Vaudevilles (specifically theatrical comedy, tragedy, and bizarre/surreal acts) which were pretty common in his city of birth. This interest for theatrics and third person story perspectives mixed terribly with later events in his life, like how at age 10 he witnessed a potential murder/suicide (Jesus christ...). Through this event he realized that there were different kinds of people in specific situations, especially when faced with the finality of death. Joey goes so far as to describe how theatrical the death was (Almost sounding disconnected from the reality of the situation as he noted that the crowd and even his own father seemed more like characters to him than real people). However, since Joey's neighborhood was ripe with strange people, he wasn't unfamiliar with bizarre events happening around him. Seeing a motorized ambulance was more amazing to a 10 year old him than actually caring for the death of a stranger at the front of his father's store.

    At age 12, Joey went to Coney Island for the first time, and the journey excited him greatly since he didn't get to leave home very often. The trip to Coney Island was magical in a sense, and later in life he hoped to replicate it in Bendyland to a more permanent degree (the trip back home ruptured the magical effect, which he didn't want to happen with Bendyland).

Joey has his own set of rules he plays by which he considers his life’s philosophy that he calls "The Illusion of Living". This was inspired by several events in his life, including his father passing the time by playing make believe (the Shoemaker and the Elves). This unique perception of what illusion and reality are (“the same thing”), seems to point to Joey having developed a dissociative personality disorder from a young age, which got progressively worse as he grew older. This in addition with the ADHD patterns he displays in his confusing rambling writing (and Joey rambles a LOT), and the almost OCD behaviour in regards to cleaning up after himself, indicates Joey lacked impulse control and was more prone to listening to intrusive thoughts.

Joey's view of reality was often confusing to others and he greatly enjoyed poking fun out of slowly getting them to his point of view. Conversations with Joey were thus quite frustrating to some, but no less curious to others that actually tried to understand what the “Illusion of Living” was about (Like Nathan). According to Joey, only a few people ever got close to understanding it.

    Joey enlisted to fight in the first war after he lied about his age (He was 15 years old, a year younger than the required age to enlist at the time). Out of all the positions in the army, he seemed most interested in comms, and considered himself more decent in communicating than actually fighting in the front lines.

It seems like Joey greatly enjoyed how he looked in uniform, and was also particularly finicky about his looks in general despite being in boot camp.

He made friends in the army, Private Donaldson and Private Eckhart, which Nathan (who worked at the tech lab that Joey later worked for) attests to being accurately described in the book. They were slightly older than Joey and were also interested in communication tech and shared his sense of humor. They also influenced Joey's social life, and tried to get him to date some gals that he wasn’t remotely interested in (the first indication that he may not be straight).

    Another close friend Joey had in the army was Lottie (a communications officer) and he used to "chaperone" her whenever the four went out to party. He seemed to have a considerable amount of respect for her (which is likely a result of growing up observing his mother, thus understanding that women were competent in positions where other men would scoff at the idea of them working at all). As such he was quite supportive of the War's “Hello Girls” (comms female officers). Interestingly enough this contradicts Joey's sexist persona that he seems to take on in Dream Come to Life (a mask that seems to be among many others he employs to fit in with the rest of society).

Lottie was his special gal pal in the platonic sense and, while he often ate alone to be left with his thoughts, she usually sought him out to talk to.

Joey only ever empathized with people he was close to, often reserving telling stories to comfort his friends specifically. It was the only way he could brighten their day (which later supposedly helped a disillusioned Lottie when she was sent to serve in London). What one could take away from Joey’s days as a soldier was that he was incredibly perceptive in terms of studying people. He easily recognized people’s handwriting, and was greatly fascinated by others’s personalities.

He could also easily charm people just from reading into what they might be interested in, and liked the thought of subliminally impressing others (which he later incorporated into his cartoons). It’s never mentioned, but Joey was likely honorably discharged since the war ended in 1918 and didn’t need to return to the service of the military when the second world war hit (keeping in mind Joey appears to have mobility issues later in life, he might have not been fit for field duty).

    At age 19 Joey ended up involved in investigating the murder case of Walter Richmond, a signal corps soldier Joey met briefly in his service days. The victim in question was responsible for documenting the war efforts, not being necessarily that great of a photographer, but taking a certain amount of pleasure in capturing the most viscerally gruesome pictures possible for shock value. How Joey got involved was a curious thing in of itself, since he didn’t know the victim all that well, nor cared to get to know him. Detective Adam Sinclair (a tall hulking man wearing the typical trenchcoat and fedora combo, who’s most noticeable features were his aged face and unshaven 5’o’clock shadow) tracked him down to his little minimalistic (and obsessively clean and tidy) apartment to question him. Joey was initially unsurprised that an ex-soldier ended up dead (not from the war, but likely ptsd), and was instead surprised that it was a murder case. He ended up inserting himself into the case as Sinclair’s shadow to help solve it. The reason was mostly out of self-interest, but his perspective did seem useful to the detective in the end. Throughout the investigation Joey displayed a few particular traits that indicate his attentive and peculiar nature, such as the way he reads others (their way of dressing and upkeep of posture), the manner of which he judges a good handshake, his distaste for smoking (which was taught to him via the idea that if something smells bad it’s usually bad for you) and drinking (he tries to be careful with alcohol intake in general, as he’s more accustomed to beer than drinks like champagne which one could over-indulge recklessly without noticing). Joey’s fascination for taboo subjects (war, violence, and death specifically) is also noted when he observes the victim’s photographic works.

This is a prevalent theme in an art gallery event where these particular subjects seemed to linger strongly in his mind, to the point where he noticed when one of the photos he recalls having seen before during his brief meeting with Richmond, appeared to be missing from the display. A detail that appeared to be dismissed by others, but of great interest to Sinclair.

    During this same gallery event, there was an incident set up by the murderer that involved a firecracker and a crowbar that set off a lot of panic. Joey’s work at the signal corps labs saved him from the brutality of the trenches, but he's apparently familiar with the effects of severe PTSD (And ironically notes that reliving the same painful event over and over again is his definition of true horror/personal hell).

It became very apparent to both Joey and Sinclair that the murderer was amongst them, and that this onslaught of panic was a message: That the murder of the frontline photographer was personal.

They did in fact come into contact with the perpetrator and, after a while of radio silence between Joey and Sinclair, the case was solved with...Minimal success. While Sinclair knew who killed Walter Richmond, he unfortunatelly did not have enough proof to convict her (the sister of a casualty of war that could have easily been saved, had Richmond not left him for dead because it fit his narrative of the war just fine), thus allowing her to get away with literal murder. Worse yet, the resolution of the case seemed to further disconnect Joey from reality and consequence. He gained a disdain for Adam Sinclair where once he’d respected him as an authority figure of sorts, finding that he’d accomplished his role and still failed miserably. In the end, the only thing to come out of teaming up with Sinclair was learning a social skill that Joey employed later on, by mirroring back certain aspects of a person so they’d be more comfortable around him. Otherwise the detective became nothing more than a distant memory. Unimportant in Joey’s later narrative.

    Two years later, Joey started working for a bookstore where he began satiating his vast hunger for knowledge, now that he had access to all sorts of books he could never afford as a child. Joey is fairly well read with an interest in various genres, although it was previously noted that during his army service people made fun of him for especially liking fictional novels. Joey being Joey however, wasn’t overly fussed about others’s opinions on what he sought enjoyment from, especially when it came to storytelling. Aside from getting his reading quota filled out, his bookstore job also helped him develop his salesperson skills through reading his customers. Through his experiences with his father’s shop and shadowing Sinclair, he had by now understood that people were highly superficial, and that he could apply whatever knowledge he gathered from them into how he sold his pitch to them. His charisma seemed to lure in customers.

    While working at the store he met Abby Lambert who he immediately noticed had an eye for art. Joey quickly became friends with her and seemed to greatly appreciate her no-nonsense attitude towards life in general, going so far as to respect her capabilities as a working lady where other men would be disdained with her difficult attitude. In fact, he wondered why anyone wouldn’t hire her to do a job she could clearly handle, just because she was a woman (again contradicting his sexist persona). As a connoisseur of the arts, Abby was the one to fully introduce Joey to her favourite craft. He especially took an interest in Impressionism and its influences.

Abby also supposedly introduced Henry to Joey, which the latter insists wasn’t really that remarkable of an event since Henry was “unimaginative” and “lacking in talent” due to his specialty in cartoon caricatures, and not the richer awe inspiring paintings Joey seemed to prefer (basically Joey spends any given time in the book trying to make Henry seem as insignificant as possible out of pure unadulterated pettiness, which physically pains me).

Ironically, in terms of entertainment, Joey later favoured cartoons as the more appealing form of films since most other mediums didn’t really spark his interest, even if the genres were ones he found fascinating (I suppose that despite films being works of fiction most times, Joey likely thought real life actors were far too limited in their acts due to the natural limitations of the human body).

Returning to Abby, her friendship seemed to be more impactful to Joey than most others. Like with how he preferred his mother’s company to his father’s, Abby seemed to be one of few people he actually felt comfortable around, to the point where her criticism didn’t bother him. She was also mindful of him, where she could recognize Joey’s “preferences” and made it a point to clarify to him that their outings were purely platonic so he wouldn’t get uncomfortable in those situations.

    Three years after meeting Abby and Henry, Joey became a manager at the bookstore and Henry began working there as well (by Joey’s suggestion it seems), and only then did they sort of start developing a meek little friendship of sorts (although Joey seems very dismissive about it and focuses primarily on Abby).

During that time, the idea to start his own business came about from two different events that happened that year. The first being his first ever theatrical script that he wrote and performed with Abby at a gallery event. During the performance of this little play (the theme of which was an angel and a demon discussing their role in influencing a mortal’s life), Joey discovered that he greatly enjoyed controlling situations and got way too into it (even considers what he could get away with in the name of entertainment, such as if he could act out actual violent or scandalous behaviours if he proclaimed it a part of the show).

The second event was his father sending him shoes once a year (which, because Joey disliked the make of his father’s shoes, he tried to get him to stop by pretending they weren’t arriving at his address or that they were getting stolen). As a means to ensure he got them, Joey's father started sending the packages to the bookstore. A doodle and writing on the package ended up inspiring Joey to create his own studio as he wanted to take flight in the entertainment industry.

    Having thus decided that he wanted to open up a film studio of some kind, Joey immediately set off to get himself a memorable mascot. He had a vague idea of what he needed and what might be appealing to an audience, but he wasn’t particularly skilled in character design and openly admitted to this. Abby, who was also not particularly good at drawing cartoons, understood that her more realistic style wouldn’t really help (or appeal to) Joey, so she enlisted Henry’s help. Knowing that Joey was a bit picky in regards to how he evaluated art, she thought perhaps she could persuade him to take a liking to Henry’s works (which he wasn’t particularly fond of, due to Henry mostly working with pen-drawings of cartoon characters and caricatures that looked very unremarkable to him) if he could only see him actually work his “magic”. Joey was reluctant to bring Henry into his business plan, but upon actually reaching a design within a few minutes (that took a few tries experimenting with animal and human features in more detailed and then simplified ways) of Joey giving some directions, he seemed to be sold on bringing Henry on board.

Henry designing the company mascot was thus the final push to open up Joey Drew Studios.

The two began their partnership not too long after, and from then on out things got interesting very quickly.

    The history behind the studio is...Not an easy one to validate in terms of whether or not Joey is sincere or even really knows certain dates (the more I look into the beginning of the book and the later exposition of information, the more I realized either Joey was starting to trip himself up on dates or his memory was visibly failing him). There are a lot of discrepancies in the dates provided, with some going back on how long Henry remained in the studio (even claiming to have at some point surrounded him with other animators and even a lead artist a year prior to his departure), when Sammy and Jack were hired (He says he hired Sammy in 1929 during the Wallstreet Crash, but later says he hired both him and Jack after the Wallstreet Crash), among other things... Joey Drew Studios was primarily funded by Mrs. Richmond (the mother of Walter Richmond), as Joey had forged friendships with the people involved in the case he’d helped Sinclair investigate (including the murderer whom he had grown to respect).

While other investors aren’t really brought up, it’s implied Nathan also had a hand in helping the studio taking off, as Joey often met up with him at the Russian Tearoom whenever he could. During these private meetings, Nathan would impart advice on Joey. Advice which he seemed to not care for, as he already had his own concerns at the time.

It seemed that his main plan was to acquire a talented and capable team to achieve his dream. A team Joey thought he wouldn’t need to "baby-sit", as he specifically wanted to hire individuals that were as studious and capable as he saw himself (curiously Joey mentions that Henry’s work ethic was exactly what he wanted, as Henry had never held work back or needed to be checked up on, which to Joey was an invaluable attribute).

For at least two years, the Bendy Cartoons were nothing but silence and sound effects (something we actually see in-game in BatIM Chapter One when the projector suddenly turns on and we hear nothing but the clicking of the projector and Joey’s whistling), which put them at a bit of a disadvantage when it came to competing with other animation studios.

This soon changed when Joey came across Sammy Lawrence and Jack Fain at a party he was attending on his 30th birthday (which he wasn’t celebrating, the party was a completely different event so supposedly Joey doesn’t care much for his own birthday).

He was already familiar with Sammy’s musical skills (mostly playing the piano quite masterfully), as he’d seen him perform at the theater when Sammy was still a teenager. Noticing him and Jack at the party was entirely accidental and was mostly due to the fact that, while Sammy was trying to keep out of the spotlight as he played, Jack’s showmanship shone through and caught Joey’s eye with how boisterous he was in their musical performance.

Joey approached them once their act was done and managed to convince them to work for him. Jack seemed to be immediately on board, while Sammy was a little more guarded in his agreement and immediately set up his stipulations for the job. This seemed to lean Joey’s interest towards Sammy (who Joey was unhealthily fascinated with because he was clearly not an easy man to control) more than Jack (who he likely considered too easy a read in terms of character, thus not much of a challenge to sway or condition).

     By 1933 Joey officially bought the entire building the studio was set up in (which up until then was occupied by other people seeking their own ventures). Expansion and new hires likely started a year or so later and continued on despite financial instability, and between 1941 and 1942 Joey was already starting to work out how he’d get Bendyland to be just as perfect and spectacular as he had always envisioned (which was difficult because he never really got it to feel just right in his eyes, and something felt off to him).

In between listing several different projects, vaguely describing an innovative techniques (Sillyvision which seems to be linked with the Golden Ink?), and even setting up his own 7 rules on how to animate to help set up a guide for aspiring animators, Joey slowly drifts away from the studio topic and finalizes his book rather abruptly.

He insinuates there’s a lot more for him to tell but little to no connection with the “Illusion of Living” philosophy and he’d rather focus on his actual physical work with the Studio than sit down and write further, so he finishes off on a rather...Vague note.

--{On Joey Drew}--

Year of Birth - 1901 (Day and month are never mentioned, but it's possible that his favouring of the autumnal season alludes to a fall month) Year of Death - ??? (Supposedly he's died, hence why Nathan claimed the Bendy IP) Birth City: Born and raised in Paterson "Silk City", New Jersey (Joey doesn't seem to have an accent, so he likely masks it, or made an effort to lose it). Physical Characteristics: As a child he used to have curly hair (Considering the era’s general fashion and style, it’s very likely that Joey either cut his hair too short to see the curls, or simply uses too much gel to seem more presentable) Sexual/Romantic Preferences: Homosexual with Demiromantic subtones (Joey seems to be closed off in general, but more appreciative of the male figure. Could be interpreted as demisexual however, since Joey himself doesn't seem to like wasting time around people he doesn't have much of a bond with) Notes: Here are several notes I’ve compiled about Joey and his opinions on certain things and people. There’s a lot to look at as this man rambles like an old lady at a friday night bingo event, and thus I had a lot to take in!

Laughter is important to him.

Seems to be a dog person.

Likes Cheerios (yes this was a super necessary detail I had to jot down).

Considers having his ideas disclosed without permission to be disloyal.

Seems to have some sort of dissociative personality disorder (likely brought on by trauma or another undiagnosed mental disorder).

People-Watcher by nature.

Was taught by his father that the shoe makes the man (aka the art of studying people through their shoes).

Joey believes in the saying "The Truth is in the Pudding", a saying his mother often employed.

Never had enough money to own a pair of nice fitting shoes until he was 26.

Is narcissistically vain. Easily takes insult if people assume he can't look presentable.

His service in the army gave him experience with "experimental tech".

Enjoys music a lot, and he was considered a great dancer.

Finds modern feminine fashion standards appealing.

Disliked the way those with money romanticized lacking material gains. Found it personally disrespectful in a way, since he himself came from a poor family.

Seems appalled by too much color on one's wear (Joey is the goddamn fashion police).

Very picky about the arts.

Apparently disliked Henry's art style(???).

Lets people believe Henry is the creator of the toons, in an act of being holier than thou. (You lying son of a gun, stop lying to everyone and yourself whaddahell).

Joey's analogy of Henry starting a journey but Joey being the one to reap the benefits, is likely the truest thing he's said in this nightmare of a novel (boastful bastard...).

Thinks of Bendy as his firstborn, muse and messenger.

Took an art class with Abby (likely not a full art course, just a simple class to get the gist of it?).

Considers art the doorway to immortality.

Doesn't like post-mortem success (it frightens him, even). He'd rather be successful in his lifetime.

Admits to making mistakes, but not many. He also thinks mistakes don't need to be permanent.

Doesn't know what true rest is like, and is unsure if he'll ever be content enough to rest. On that same note he seems to really hate sitting still and his mind tends to wander, which he notes Nathan recognized with ease, even reserving a specific look for him (It’s the ADHD baby).

His friend Kyle was a lazy person and a gossip, which were traits Joey found annoying.

On their first meeting, Joey described having a desire to shove Sammy off a roof to see a more human reaction from him.

Assumes Jack is jealous of the attention he gives Sammy, or that the duo's relationship is strained, despite him barging into their lives out of the blue and making him feel like a third wheel.

Seems to think of himself as some sort of a messenger (going so far as to akin himself to the god, Mercury). His life’s mission is to help those who don't know they need to be helped (mostly through spreading happiness and laughter in such a dark and dreary era of human history). Bendyland is essentially Joey's means to fulfil this desire, as well as to chase his own need for a properly realized mixture of immersion and illusion.

He wanted Bendyland to be perfect, even the plot of land it might be built in needed to be perfect, so he inspected it himself with Nathan once he bought the deed.

Appears to refuse to call Bertrum by his proper name once he’s corrected the first time. Referring to him instead as either Bertie or Bert (toying with him perhaps? Testing boundaries?)

Doesn't drive. He instead hired a personal driver, Simmons.

For a little while he was living the American Dream, but thought of how he lived as less of a shared goal and more of a personal one (again setting himself apart from others).

His days were quite flexible and he seemed to despise set routines. He also doesn't like sleeping in. He liked to take a walk in central park early in the morning.

Joey used to make his rounds around the studio but the installation of the Ink Machine changed that habit a bit.

Nonchalantly notes that Shawn Flynn got a little defensive if he needed to be corrected on his work (OCD much, Joey? He was painting a lot of dolls by hand, slipups happen...).

He had priority meetings with Sammy, "meetings" with Jack (Sir what are these quotation marks for, are you snogging Jack while no one’s watching???), then met with the art department preceding the writing department, and finally he met with Grant Cohen in accounting to discuss finances and budget.

He had the final say in ALL paperwork regarding studio affairs.

Upon reading about it, found the concept of bringing in real animals to produce Disney's Bambi as funny, and joked about how trying to do so with Bendy and Boris would be chaotic.

Noted that Abby and Sammy were likely the only two people who closely understand the philosophy of the illusion of living, but not quite…

Was terrified of being misunderstood. Joey didn’t want to only be able to show half-truths, like a mirror reflecting the world darkly. Rather ironic considering he was quite deceitful in his adult life.

His desire for the world to love Bendy seems to be a projection of wanting to feel loved himself (quite honestly if one were to apply the theory of the id, ego and superego, it seems to me that Bendy is essentially Joey’s id, while Joey himself could be considered the Superego. The chameleonic social mask he wears is thus the ego. At the end of the day Bendy and Joey are and aren’t the same entity...).

Originally he didn't want to make a memoir (likely because he can't be direct and needs to work around the truth to fit him). It could also be that Joey didn’t want to linger on the past nor in death. He wasn't sure where it fit with his philosophy and thus tried not to explore too deep into it (existential dread?).

He wore custom tailored suits, and as of beginning writing TioL he had recently taken to wearing cravats (ever the vain man I suppose…).

Despite considering revisiting the past unnecessary, he couldn’t deny doing so if the time called for it. In fact, the Archives are Joey's memories of the past and he's sentimental enough to collect mementos of bygone eras.

Joey has trophies at home, the deeply personal things he couldn’t bare part with. Like the first sketch of Bendy, a napkin with the design of Bendyland, a letter from Henry, a ticket from a Vaudeville show, and his set of shoes he wore when he was surveying the plot of land where he planned to build Bendyland.

--{On Bendy}--

Notes: Here are a few notes I’ve compiled about the Little Devil Darling himself, and a few curiosities about his creation and the inspiration behind his character.

Bendy was officially created in 1928. According to Joey he was born of a dream, supposedly out of necessity, and he always had this idea of a little devil character doing mischief.

Bendy started off as a realistic little boy with a tail and horns (Abby’s attempt to bring to life Joey’s vague idea). Then, when Henry got involved, he became a cartoonish goat creature. The concepts were quickly worked out from a toony clothed amalgamation of both previous concepts, to a more intermediate design more closely resembling Bendy, and then finally, after Joey requested a simpler more shapely and less detailed toon, Bendy became the iconic  little imp clad in only gloves and bowtie.

Joey named him upon seeing the completed design. There are two origins for his name: That of Walter Benjamin Richmond, who’s nickname in life was “Bendy” (a rather morbid homage considering what happened to him), and the mere fact that in Joey’s eyes, his little cartoon imp “bent all the rules”. Henry seemed to appreciate the name.

Bendy is meant to be the devil on one’s shoulders, much like the devil in Joey’s first theatrical play. He is however, a lot more like a little kid playing pranks on people. He is also a sort of embodiment of both the population and human morality (society at its most flawed point, but also quite relatable).

Buster Keaton was an inspiration for Bendy’s many shenanigans and movements, which were always meant to be fluid and a bit bouncy.

--{On Henry Stein}--

Year of Birth - ??? (It’s never mentioned how old Henry is, but I assume he’s around the same age group as Abby, since they were friends and likely went to the same art course. It’s likely that he’s younger than Joey, but not likely by much.) Year of Death - 1963 (It’s not really confirmed if Henry died when he was put into the Cycle, as he doesn’t seem to notice anything odd about himself, but it’s safe to assume the process very likely involves human sacrifice). Birth City: ??? (Unknown, it could be that he was born and raised in New York but Henry lacks a noticeable accent) Physical Characteristics: Average looking? (Irrelevant, he could honestly look like anyone really...) Sexual/Romantic Preferences: Presumably Heterosexual (He’s a married man in the 1930s-1960s, he’s either straight or hiding his sexuality, he seems to really like Linda however so could go either way really...) Notes: Here the few notes I could gather of the Henry info we got from TioL. It’s not much but its at least something to work with!

Henry is unremarkable appearance wise (to the point Joey forgot his face easily at first).

The way Henry dressed (mismatched and ill-fitted) indicates he likely grew up in poverty and likely only had hand-me-downs.

He mostly worked with pen-drawn cartoon character designs that were unremarkable but distinctly caricature-like (the Butcher Gang concepts were likely displayed in the gallery Joey attended, as noted by a comment he makes about them). Even if Joey apparently didn’t particularly like his style, Henry’s artwork was one of the final inspirations for the creation of Joey Drew Studios.

He is described as able to draw quite fast, great at taking directions, and as being a good animator. Overall Henry never really had any real need for someone to keep an eye on him which made him an exemplary worker.

According to Joey, Henry used to give pep-talks before he left the studio. This seemed to annoy Joey considerably for some reason (perhaps he was envious that Henry was generally a more likeable person).

Henry is remembered as forgettable, whereas Joey is flashier and more memorable.

Interestingly enough, Henry never claimed to own the design of Bendy, and was more interested in being business partners with Joey than starting a fuss about who owned the rights to Bendy’s creation (It’s very likely that he willingly gave Joey the design because Bendy was his character, and that instead the designs Joey did steal were that of Boris the Wolf, Alice Angel, and the Butcher Gang, the five other more notorious characters in the Bendy franchise).

--{On Abby Lambert}--

Year of Birth - ??? (It’s never mentioned how old Abby is, but I assume she’s around the same age group as Henry, since they were friends and likely went to the same art course. It’s likely that she’s younger than Joey, but not likely by much.) Year of Death - Possibly 1946 (Upon finally losing himself to the ink, Sammy seemed to have been actively hunting the Art Department and any stragglers that he encountered in the studio, so it can be assumed she died in the chaos) Birth City: ??? (Unknown but more likely to be born and raised in New York than Henry) Physical Characteristics: Frizzy hair, even when bobbed. Sexual/Romantic Preferences: Potentially Bisexual (She seemed to be acutely aware of Joey’s “peculiarities” so it’s possible she’s either a member of the LGBTQ community or perhaps an ally. Whatever the case it’s up for debate and interpretation.) Notes: Here are several notes I’ve compiled about Abby and some of her traits and mannerisms. There was surprisingly a lot more to work with than I expected.

She wasn’t really into the typical female fashion of the time. In fact, Abby wasn’t exactly fond of the typical mannerisms associated with women and was both notoriously rude and dressed herself in a “scandalously” modern manner (which is basically code for more practical less femenine clothing).

According to Joey, Abby is a very focused and determined person, which is why he admired her greatly. She didn’t know when to quit, however, and sometimes took things too far or involved others in situations or projects they didn’t want to be involved in.

She wasn’t very good at drawing original cartoon characters, and Joey was apparently not overly fond of her attempts at putting his ideas to paper due to her more realistic art style.

Abby was very insistent on Joey looking at Henry's works, even if he wasn't particularly interested in them (While it’s never said if she enjoys his art herself, it can be assumed she appreciates it enough that she’d want their mutual friend to see the potential Henry had).

She didn’t join the studio as the replacement Director of the Art Department until 1931, as during its founding she was still finishing art school. She and Henry never worked together. Despite this, she and Henry remained in touch even after he left for Pasadena.

--{On Sammy Lawrence}--

Year of Birth - ??? (From how Joey describes him, it can be assume Sammy was a teenager around either Joey’s early or late 20s before they officially met on Joey’s 30th birthday) Year of Death - 1946? (Sammy is one of few people who was turned without being killed first so it’s hard to tell if he’s really dead even within the Cycle since it’s a time loop...) Birth City: ??? (Sammy lacks a noticeable accent so it’s hard to tell where he’s from). Physical Characteristics: Has been described as bird-like and insect-like, with either brown or blond hair that’s kept longer than the typical fashion of the time (Not much more is known about his actual appearance but it can be assumed he’s either average sized or on the tall side considering his in-game height and build) Sexual/Romantic Preferences: Potentially Biromantic with a lot of Demiromantic subtones. Possibly Asexual? (Again this is pure speculation on my part because he did seem interested in Susie but isn’t really a people person in general. Does seem to know how to reign in people tho, so ???) Notes: Here are a few curious notes I’ve compiled about Sammy, the circumstances behind his hiring, and how much control he actually had as the music director.

He has an unusual appearance that, while not necessarily described as ugly, was clearly outstanding enough that some people were put off (Buddy) and others thought him handsome (Susie). His hair is also described as messy.

Sammy is an avid smoker.

He was among a few other musicians employed by the theater to drown out projector sounds and match the mood in silent films. Because he was good at improvising music on the spot, Sammy was excellent at carrying the story presented on screen through his melodies, which was what caught Joey’s eye when he first saw Sammy perform.

Sammy also recognized Joey and didn’t believe his dismissal that he was a “town person”. In fact, Sammy pinpointed the recognition to the fact Joey was that one loner that sat in the front row of the theater he played at.

It becomes very apparent that Sammy is suspicious of people in general. The way he observes others indicates he’s had some sort of struggle growing up. As such, he’s not big on sustaining conversations and he managed to aggravate Joey slightly by the way he addressed him on their first proper meeting.

Sammy had a songbook he shared with Jack, meaning they had a strong trust bond, which is why he only agrees to work for Joey based on Jack’s willingness to also be hired. Even so, he immediately set up professional boundaries for his position. He hired his own people without Joey’s interference, and he only ever indulged him if Joey was being particularly exasperating.

It’s very likely that since Sammy was the one hiring who worked for the music department, that he was the one who hired Norman Polk. This theory is made stronger by the fact he immediately demanded a projector and projectionist booth so he could better do his job.

Despite his surly disposition, Sammy is a no nonsense sort who wants things done and over with, rather than sit around and stall. As such Joey considered him one of the best decisions he made in terms of career.

Funnily enough, because the band seemed to be skittish around Joey, Sammy specifically prohibited his presence in the music department unless they had a scheduled meeting. This likely meant Joey was scarcely ever seen in the music department so as to not aggravate Sammy in person.

Alice Angel’s bigger (and failed) presence in the franchise is likely a consequence of another one of Sammy’s stipulations upon being hired. He had immediately noted that if the studio wanted to go anywhere, they’d need a female character (Perhaps Sammy really believed what he told Susie due to despising Bendy and actually favouring Alice as a character).

--{On Jack Fain}--

Year of Birth - ??? (Possibly around the same age as Sammy or a little older?) Year of Death - ??? (He was gone long before a few other people in the studio, likely in the first few experiments Joey performed) Birth City: ??? (Hard to tell, he doesn’t have an easily identifiable accent). Physical Characteristics: Has been described as an atrocious dresser (This man likes wearing bright colors!) Sexual/Romantic Preferences: Potentially Homosexual subtones (Not enough information provided to tell) Notes: Sadly lacking in the information department for Jack.

Jack is incredibly sociable and trusts easily. He's described as making bad jokes but laughing genuinely at them. His smiles are contagious.

Jack is an optimist sort who sees the good in any situation (even when being led around in a dark creepy room by a peculiar stranger).

--{On Bertrum Piedmont}--

Year of Birth - ??? (He was retired, so it’s likely he was around his 60s or early 70s when Joey first met him) Year of Death - ??? (It’s unknown when exactly he ended up in the Ink Machine but it’s very possible he was killed when all hell broke loose in the studio) Birth City: ??? (No clue). Physical Characteristics: Joey describes him (rather rudely) as a very portly man. Sexual/Romantic Preferences: ??? (No idea, chief...) Notes: Lacking in the information department like Jack, but what we get is a lot more substantial.

Bertrum was actually retired when Joey managed to get a hold of him. It took a bit of detective work on Mrs. Rodriguez's (Joey's secretary) part to actually find him as well, so he was not an easy man to get an appointment with.

His creative vision impressed Joey enough that the latter he ignored his apparent dislike for reminiscing so as to get him on board of the Bendyland project.

While discussing the Bendyland Project, Bertrum confidently jokes about it being quite the catch. He agrees to joining forces with Joey as long as he gets full creative control of the entire project. Although Joey agreed to this, he still managed to fight Bertrum on a few ideas, which annoyed him greatly.

It’s very likely that it didn’t take long for their initially friendly relationship to sour into open hostility on Bertrum’s part.

--{On Wally Franks}--

Year of Birth - ??? (No clue, but he was very likely in his late teens or early adult years when he was first hired as the studio Janitor) Year of Death - Supposedly still alive (I really do hope he got outta there like the letter insinuates...) Birth City: Brooklyn, New York. Physical Characteristics: ??? (All we know is he likely wears overalls and a sport’s cap) Sexual/Romantic Preferences: Possibly Heterosexual (Unless the letter is a forgery, he apparently has a wife, kids and grandkids) Notes: I’ll admit I didn’t expect to get Wally lore, but here we are!

Wally's actually quite skilled with maintenance. He can tinker with the projectors, other machinery and even plumbing. His schedule is a little off however, but Joey turns a blind eye to it because he gets the job done without question.

--{On Allison Pendle}--

Year of Birth - ??? (No idea! But she was relatively well known when she was hired!) Year of Death - ??? (She was likely lured back to the studio after everything went down but before Henry) Birth City: ??? Physical Characteristics: She’s a beautiful tall blonde according to DCTL Sexual/Romantic Preferences: ??? (She and Thomas are married but I honestly have no clue how to feel about her, she’s a mystery to me.) Notes: Extra minimal Allison lore for your Allison Pendle lore needs.

She was a famous Broadway actress before joining the studio. Interestingly enough, Joey was the one to hire her to replace Susie, not only breaking Sammy’s stipulation on the matter but also stirring Susie into becoming resentful towards Sammy and actually trying to recover her former role at all costs (even her own life).

--{On Nathan Arch}--

Year of Birth - ??? (He was likely a little older than Joey since they were in the army at the same time but Joey lied about his age to enlist earlier) Year of Death - N/A (Still alive and kicking) Birth City: ??? Physical Characteristics: ??? (I guess Boswell Lotsabucks is sorta modeled after him so go off on that???) Sexual/Romantic Preferences: Heterosexual (He has a wife and son and doesn’t give me any other vibes besides and overall instinctual distrust) Notes: Oh boy...I do NOT trust this man...

Immediately upon beginning reading TioL you get the impression that Nathan is not only trying to appear friendly and trustworthy by referring to himself as Nate A, but also that he’s trying to cover for Joey and make him appear more personable to the reader. But to what gain exactly?

Nathan is, like Joey, very narcissistically vain, and is also writing a book of his own (an autobiography maybe?)

He’s a smoker and prefers cigars.

When Joey discusses his childhood, Nathan is unable to contradict or confirm anything as he noted that Joey was always very private about his origins.

Nathan seemed truly surprised and impressed with Joey’s ability to make up uncannily believable stories, even suspecting that his accounts of “Lottie” might have been false as he couldn’t find any of the supposed letters Joey sent her when he started working on republishing TioL (it’s likely he could see that Joey often lied to himself just as much as he lied to others).

It seemed to Nathan that Joey was rather oblivious of subtle compliments.

By the manner of which Nathan phrases it, he seems to think of Joey as a professional and kind man, capable of seeing the good in others. That said, Nathan remarks that Henry's departure was a great betrayal for his friend, and that the latter shouldn't have been so "gracious" and "forgiving" towards him…

When the studio began to struggle financially, Nathan worried that Joey might not be aware of the issue at all, or that perhaps he was lying to himself to cope. He also later notes that Joey’s memories seemed to have deteriorated in his old age. He was often mixing up information and seemed rather guilty, which Nathan considering to be very unbecoming of the man he knew Joey to be.

A lot of the deeply philosophical Joey and Nathan interactions seen in the book might actually have occured between Joey and Henry (the "I think therefore I am" conversation is an especially telling one for me), hence why Nathan doesn't recall them. It also seems more likely because they contradict the way Joey portrays Nathan, but seem to fit his portrayal of Henry better.