#he lets himself age between like 25 and 45

[sepezzz]

merlin fanart?????? in 2023????????

more context for these in the tags

[k4vehrtz]

WHATEVER HAPPENED TO THE YOUNG, YOUNG LOVERS? dom ! nanami kento / sub ! m. reader

content warnings. nsfw content / hybrid au ergo predator - prey dynamic where applicable / bunny hybrid ! nanami & reader / explicit mentions of and allusions to social anxiety / age gap (reader is 25 + nanami is 45) / satosugu cameo / self - degradation (brief, nanami) + mild degradation (r receiving) / fingering (r receiving) / spontaneous sex / ‘bunny’ & ‘little rabbit’ used as a pet name / doggystyle / ass‐to–mouth / overstimulation / heat cycles / nipple play / explicit consent / reader is shorter than nanami but there is no explicit description of a body type / virgin nanami ergo loss of virginity

word count. 3K

notes. i’ve had this bunny ! reader req in my inbox for a while and it has been on my mind so i decided to explore a couple ideas :) i’m dyslexic so any errors just give the fic personality

nanami had, over the course of his life, nurtured a particular distaste for other human beings.

he’d grown up in a city — one that never slept; a city that hummed to the tune of debauchery. busy days pre–empted busier nights. and he’d always remember two things: one, that the winters were cold, but the people there were always colder and two, he’d stuck out in a crowd.

hence, at the age of forty–five, he’d decided to leave.

“… so let me get this straight,” satoru, who’d made it his mission to mimic a koala, says as he untangles himself from suguru after having concluded that this was, in fact, a serious conversation. “you’re moving to a small town to avoid human interaction more efficiently instead of addressing your underlying social anxiety?”

satoru naturally spoke faster than the average individual, but his pace increased near the end of his sentence. nanami pretended not to notice (something he’d become exceptionally good at).

“real subtle, smart ass,” suguru hadn’t though, narrowing his eyes at his partner before turning his attention back to nanami, “i think it’s a good idea, better environment to write and all.”

writing, yes. he’d gotten in the habit during high school. it was nothing more than a hobby — something to pass the time between classes. being a loner by choice (as he’d liked to call it), he’d had a lot of time to get lost between the lines of an empty notebook. and being a creature of habit (in the self–proclaimed ‘right’ opinion of the startlingly blue–eyed man sitting across from him), he’d made a career out of it.

“i…suppose,” he responds almost nonchalantly, lacking the energy that his two closest friends possessed.

he hasn’t written since his last work — a collection of essays on how one’s perception of their surroundings is impacted by one’s perception of oneself — was published two, almost three years ago.

he’s embarrassed, a sensation that sticks to his skin uncomfortably and the silence that falls between them only exacerbates his discomfort.

“i’ll see you two, then,” he speaks up after the silence proves to be too much for him, standing to his full height in a bashful sort of way that can only be described as endearing — typical for rabbit hybrids.

the two fox hybrids, long since accustomed to the abrupt end of get–togethers, exchange their goodbyes as they stare at his retreating form with sympathetic eyes.

and nanami, instinctively observant of his surroundings to a fault, doesn’t have to turn around to know the expressions that colour their complexions. he can feel it — the eyes of predators following his every move.

he exhales slowly through his nose: once, twice, and then a third time before the intensity of his heartbeat subsides. they’re his friends, not a threat.

his stride resumes, albeit awkwardly, with full awareness of the fact that he has a problem. he’s had a problem for a long time. but running comes naturally to prey animals.

designated ‘safe spaces’ for prey animals had become the norm in recent years following a series of unfortunate events. the café you worked at was one such establishment.

“…i’m so sorry for the delay, my co–worker called in sick so i’ve been on my own and today is a lot busier than—”

nanami clears his throat, his intention crystal clear, and your ramble comes to an abrupt end.

warmth gathers beneath the surface of your cheeks as you raise your gaze to his, though he swiftly looks away, “what can i get you?”

without looking at the menu, he responds, “a croissant,” and you interject, “so you’re the croissant guy!”

he stares at you for a moment before slowly repeating after you, “the…croissant guy?” and when you smile at him, he can’t help but think that he’d need sunglasses if you were to do that again.

you apologize for the second time before continuing, “you should know by now that there aren’t that many people that live here and, between you and me, even fewer people that buy our croissants,” a distinct warmness to your tone.

nanami nods thoughtfully, responding curtly with an indifferent, “i see,” as he pays for the pastry before finding himself someplace to sit with his laptop.

it’s been a week since he’d first arrived and he considers himself familiar enough with his new surroundings. all that was left to do was to write but, as it turns out, a change of scenery only goes so far.

as he stares at the empty document on his screen, his thoughts wander back to a few minutes ago. you’re a new face — he presumes the co–worker you’d mentioned was the barista he’d met before.

but his thoughts wander so far before you appear at his side, croissant in hand, “i heard you were an author, that’s pretty cool,” and your seemingly perpetual smile curling your lips.

you mean no harm; it’s merely an attempt to be polite, making small talk is perfectly normal. but nanami isn’t normal, he feels strange, a surge of anxiety materializing seemingly from thin air.

“you heard?” he repeats after you, stumbling over his words, and he feels stupid and embarrassed.

you tilt your head to the side, your overly large ears flopping as you do so, before taking it upon yourself to sit across from him.

“isn’t it great to have places like these to ourselves?”

he raises a brow at the sudden change of topic but you continue nevertheless, “i think it’s great, ‘cause you get to meet people who understand you. there’s a book club at the library down the street this saturday, i think you should stop by if you have the time to spare,” before excusing yourself, leaving as fast as you came.

nanami lowers his eyes to the croissant, not entirely sure of what had just happened. while you stare at him from behind the counter, a complex mixture of emotions colouring your expression.

“i think you should go; it won’t hurt to get out of the house.”

satoru’s voice echoes through his laptop’s speaker and nanami falls into contemplative silence.

“besides —” suguru interjects, “you’ve been seeing that therapist, right? i bet she’d agree that this is a step in the right direction,” moving into the camera’s frame as he settles down on satoru’s lap.

they’re not wrong; he, deep down, knows that they’re not wrong, but he hesitates all the same.

“i don’t know,” he breathes out after a moment of silence, pushing the pickled vegetables around his plate with his reusable chopsticks absentmindedly.

the line of communication falls silent once more and then suguru responds, “whatever you decide to do, we support you,” before ending the call.

and nanami exhales slowly, staring at his reflection on his laptop’s screen. he’s aged (of course he has), baby fat no longer rounds his cheeks, and crow’s feet round the corners of his eyes.

but, even now, he stands out — and nanami hates standing out.

he’d stood out among his peers; other prey animals were shorter, always shorter. there was always ‘too much’ of nanami — it made him easier to spot and made his movements awkward. he never fully knew what to do with himself.

rabbit hybrids were meant to be small and cute, two things nanami wasn’t.

you, on the other hand, were the epitome of society’s expectations; smaller and sociable. at least, that’s what he’d observed over the past four days. and he doesn’t hate you for it — ‘hate’ is too strong of a word to describe how he felt.

‘envy’, however, leaves a bad taste in his mouth, it ruins his already depleted appetite, and he pushes the ceramic plate of pickled vegetables away from him when the thought crosses his labyrinthine mind.

he doesn’t envy you; that would be absurd. but, isn’t that what this world is, absurd?

‘it is’, he decides as he changes into more suitable clothing for leaving the house — abandoning his pyjamas for a white shirt tucked into the waistband of black slacks. it was plain, nanami liked plain; he liked uniformity.

but you, you again, you were anything but plain.

as he rounded the corner of the library after receiving directions from the librarian, a sweet elderly woman, your brightly coloured sweater caught his eyes first. it stood out amidst the piles of books of all different shapes, sizes, and colours that surrounded you.

his gaze flickers to the watch around his wrist, an all too familiar sensation creeping up on him. he’d come too late. but the sound of your voice drags him out of his thoughts before he can spiral any further. hell, he hadn’t even noticed when you approached him.

“you should get out of your head sometime.”

he narrows his eyes at you, not entirely because of what you’d said (though it played a role) but because of how you said it. now that you were in such proximity to one another, he can’t help but acknowledge that you look terrible.

you sound as though you’d just run a marathon, your chest rising and falling in quick succession. without thinking he presses the back of his palm against your forehead, beads of sweat dampening his skin but he doesn’t mind. you’re burning up.

“christ,” he grimaces as he gives you a once–over, adrenaline coursing through his veins as his own body begins to heat up in a similar manner.

so, this is not a regular fever, duly noted.

“i don’t consider myself a believer but each to their own,” you grin, a lopsided type that nanami swore could give him cavities. but now is not the time for that.

he clears his throat, making the conscious decision to ignore the growing strain of his cock against the fabric of his slacks, and asks carefully, “do you need a ride home?”

nanami’s studio was a blank canvas; untouched white walls, and brand–new furniture (some still encased in its plastic wrapping) in different shades of grey. even in your heat–induced haze, you could tell that this was a ‘house’, not a ‘home’.

he doesn’t comment on it though, so you keep your thoughts to yourself as he gently guides you to his designated bedroom.

the mattress sinks under the combined weight of the two of you. your chests rising and falling in sync as you stare into each other’s eyes, your oversized ears touching in a way neither of you knew could be so pleasurable until now.

“i look old enough to be your father,” he murmurs, his voice breathier the longer his body hovers over yours. and your response comes between laboured gasps, “i’m—oh shit, you’re big—twenty-five, don’t worry, i’m a big boy.”

you can feel his growing erection through the fabric of his slacks against your own. and the air between the two of you feels charged, igniting as he lowers his lips to your throat, his warm breath feeling like miniature needles against your sensitive skin, “do you or do you not want this?”

it’s the question of the hour and you nod eagerly but he pauses, holding your chin between the soft pads of his thumb and index finger as he tilts your head upwards, “i need words, bunny, think you can use your words f’me, bunny?”

your lips part, a low, open–mouthed moan cascading down your tongue before you manage to form a coherent response, “i want ‘you’, not ‘this’.”

and your choice of wording is not lost on him, he hears you loud and clear.

“i’ve never done ‘this’ before,” he blurts out, embarrassed by his lack of cleverness when compared to your confession only moments prior.

it is the truth though; something he prides himself on being to others — truthful. although it’s up for debate how forthcoming he is with himself.

he had, however, every intention of taking you back to your place wherever that may be. but as the distinct floral scent indicating the arrival of your heat enveloped the confines of his car, he had to make a decision that was for the best of both of you. driving while approaching his heat was no better than driving while intoxicated; thus, the choice was clear.

“i can teach you,” comes your response, sounding as though it took a great deal of effort to say whilst pushing yourself up into a seated position, unintentionally bumping your forehead against his in the process.

“it’s so warm,” you both groan in unison as you pull away from each other, removing all articles of clothing deemed ‘unnecessary’ which truthfully rendered you both nude.

your state of undress mattered not, though, as nanami promptly leaned to the side, rummaging in the upper drawer of his nightstand for a moment before retrieving a lubricant specifically designed for rabbit hybrids (a gift he’d received from the ocean–eyed freak) and handing it over to you.

which you happily accept, coating both your own and his fingers in a considerable amount of lubricant before leaning against the headboard and spreading your legs.

you carefully guide his palm between your legs, gently nudging the tight ring of muscle with one of his fingers.

“i haven’t done this in a — fuck fuck fuck, your fingers are thick,” you hiccup, your breath catching in your throat as you rapidly descend into a string of curses as his finger breaches your entrance. the sudden intrusion hurts, but in the midst of your heat, it’s enough to send you over the edge, your toes curling as ropes of cum erupt from the head of your cock.

and there’s that bad taste in nanami’s mouth again, clinging to his bones and invading his muddled thoughts: ‘you just have to be perfect, don’t you?’ but with it comes the realization that he’s the reason why you’re like this and it fills him with an odd sense of satisfaction.

determination renewed, and perhaps in tandem with his desire to experience such relief, he cautiously adds another thick finger whilst you come down from your high.

“is penetration all it takes to send you over the edge, little rabbit?” he questions, curling his fingers towards what he presumes is your prostate, and you can’t help but whimper.

it’s strangely degrading when you think about it; nanami, a rabbit, a prey animal like yourself taking on a dominant role. a role that isn’t in his nature thus his tone remains mild–mannered whilst his words and actions, while cautious, are the exact opposite. 

 another finger is added — the total amounting to three now. you’re stretched around three of his thick fingers as he memorizes the layout of your insides, curling his fingers in such a way that he grazes your prostate with precision.

instead of teaching him, you’re rendered speechless as he maintains a steady pace with his fingers. the sound of your gasps, moans, and whimpers creating a symphony in the otherwise silent studio.

by the time he retracts his fingers for the final time, you’ve already climaxed two more times, your cum splattered across your bare abdomen.

“you’re so easy, little rabbit,” he whispers as his lips ghost yours before fully enveloping them in a heated exchange of saliva. there’s no real heat behind his words but you shudder nevertheless.

when nanami pulls away from your lips, it’s solely because you both need air. a string of saliva, however, remains connected to both of your lips, a testament to the heated kiss.

as you both catch your breath, you take it upon yourself to reposition yourself so that you’re on all fours, gleefully presenting yourself to nanami who obliges you.

your thighs tremble in silent anticipation of what’s to come, your loosened ring of muscle winking invitingly. but it’s not his cock — no, when the wet muscle breaches your entrance you squeal, almost losing your balance had nanami’s hands not been on your hips.

it’s a strange sensation — his tongue in your ass, his warm breath wafting across your most sensitive region. but you slowly adjust as he ravages you, lapping at your puckered entrance as you subconsciously clench and unclench.

and in a matter of minutes, you’re climaxing once more, the muscles in your pelvis twitching convulsively as your erect cock spurts ropes of cum onto the sheet beneath you. 

nanami pulls away from your ass with a ‘pop’, aligning himself with your entrance before easing into you and savouring every spasm of your gummy walls. he doesn’t move until he’s buried to the hilt, angling his hips as he thrusts into you with a steady pace, his balls colliding with your sensitive skin.

you’re overwhelmed by a sense of euphoria, having experienced multiple orgasms. so much so that salty tears roll down your cheeks as you feel nanami throb inside of you, the angry tip of his cock bullying your prostate relentlessly.

he truly is brutal, desperately chasing his high as one of his hands wanders up to your chest, taking your nipple between his thumb and index finger and teasing it.

nanami’s thoroughly bullying you but you can’t even protest, ‘uh–uh–uhs’ tumble past your lips in rapid succession along with the overwhelming urge to please him rearing its head.

thus, you endure his assault on your body until you fall limp on his mattress in a puddle of your cum as his leaks out of your entrance, some cascading down your inner thighs.

you’re still asleep when nanami wakes up the next morning, golden rays filtering into his apartment through the blinds. and he takes it upon himself to wipe your unconscious body with a damp towel from head to toe before taking a shower and heading into the kitchen.

a sense of dread settles in the pit of his stomach as he ponders the various directions the conversation the two of you are bound to have may go. but with it comes a new perspective.

[moongothic]

Look I just had to get this out of my system man

I keep on thinking about what kind of theoretical hoops Crocodad would have to jump through to happen in canon and I figured being able to actually visualize the known timeline would help

And that's what this post is about. We have a visual of the timeline. Now let us think about it a whole lot.

Minor notes about the timeline graph; Luffy's birthday is on May 5th and Croc's is on September 5th, so both would get a +1 to their ages by the end of this year in the timeline. On this note, if I am not mistaken, the year Luffy was born Crocodile would've been 27 at the time of his birth and would then turn 28 a few months later. But this is assuming Crocodile is already, at this moment, 46 years old (as opposed to if he was only turning 46 this year in which case he would actually be 45 at this moment, which would further mean he would've been 26 at the time of Luffy's birth and would've turned 27. It's slightly hard to tell what the case is exactly since we don't really get those exact timestamps during the actual story, but I think he's supposed to be 46 turning 47, and that's the assumption this post is written with). (Further sidenote, according the Vivre Card Databooks (appearently), the Strawhats got to Whiskey Peak in February and by late March had obtained Thousand Sunny. Thing is that Luffy was implied to have left on his adventure around his 17th birthday, which would mean that 8-9 months would've passed between Luffy setting out and arriving at Whiskey Peak, and he would've been a few months away from turning 18 already. Which, like, is plausible, but I'm personally willing to ignore this trivia information, not gonna fucking lie)

Anyways, to recap the timeline

We don't know

When Crocodile set out to become a pirate; since he was present at Roger's execution I think the implication would be that he would've set out soon after that, at age 22, but it's entirely possible he might've already been a no-name pirate before that or he could've set out a few years after the execution

When he met Ivankov and if their meeting was like a one-and-done thing and that they never saw each other again until Impel Down, or if that's just when they first got to know each other. (In Iva's own words (in Japanese), they knew Crocodile "during the era when he was still considdered a rookie")

When he got humbled by Whitebeard; it was "soon after" he became a Shichibukai (in Oda's words), but we can't tell if that was like 2 days or 10 months after becoming a Shichibukai

What we do know is that

Crocodile made a name for himself fast "much like Luffy" (in Oda's words); you could interpret that as him causing just a ton of chaos within like a year of entering the Grand Line

He rose to fame and became a Shichibukai in the first half of his 20's (in Oda's words), so before he turned 25?

He supposedly "calmed down" / "went quiet" (again, in Oda's words) for an unknown period of time

By the time he was 30 he was appearing on the news for his heroics; we don't know when he started appearing on the news, just that by this point he was appearing on the news

So I believe the implication is that Crocodile set out on his adventure between the ages of 21-24. If you wanted to push the Crocodad angle, you might want to push it to that 24 (since his Rookie Adventure happened so fast), which would also be around the time of the Revolutionary Army's founding. And while it is entirely plausible Crocodile could've had his ass kicked by Whitebeard VERY soon after his promotion, or it could've been around the time he was like 25-26, if you really wanted to push it for the Crocodad angle. And indeed, we don't know how Crocodile and Iva-chan knew each other. The implication I think is that he transitioned before he rose to fame as a rookie, but he could've just befriended Iva-chan at the time and gotten more well acquainted with the Revolutionaries after his ass kicking and transitioned later. It would just push the "knew him in the era he was considdered a rookie" to an absolute limit, but it would be technically true, just. Kinda pushing it.

And indeed, the Problem Point; Crocodile would've transitioned at age 27 after having Luffy, already a Shichibukai, a public-ish figure.

So if you wanted Crocodad to be canon, either

A) Crocodile being trans isn't a secret, it's something else that Iva-chan tried to blackmail him with B) Crocodile being trans is a secret, so how the fuck did he keep it if he transitioned at 27

If A); Indeed, if there was a scandal about a Shichibukai suddenly transitioning, it would've been like 17-19 years ago. Arguably that would not be something worth bringing up by anyone anymore considdering he had spent at least the past 14 years (pre-timeskip) being a hero to the masses, followed by his warcrimes. Like, it'd be old news. Which would just leave us wondering what the hell the "weakness" Iva-chan mentions really was about (a child, maybe? Or a threat of detransitioning him? Something else?)

If B); Although he was clearly a menace as a rookie as he got himself a relatively massive bounty relatively fast and became a Shichibukai at a young-ish age, we don't know how many bounties he went through before he was offered the position and how he appeared on the news at the time. Like if he went through 2-6 bounty updates before becoming a Shichibukai and appeared in the news A TON it'd feel unlikely he'd be able to keep transitioning later a secret. But if he only had like 1-2 bounties in a short span of time without being photographed too much, it'd definitely feel more plausible. Especially if his OG bounty photos were either shitty sketches (like Sanji's OG poster) or like otherwise poor photos that didn't show his face/features too well. This could also be helped if pre-T (and pre-pregnancy hormones)!Crocodile was kind of androgynous (like Cavendish) and people confused him for a man to begin with On top of this, if Crocodile lost his left hand and got his scar from Whitebeard, if he just went "missing" and then came back transitioned 2-4 years later, he could maybe argue that he was like. A late bloomer. And had hit the gym after Whitebeard kicked his ass. Like yeah he had changed a lot but it's not like there's other Sand Sand Fruit users around claiming to be Crocodile. And it is worth reminding that Iva-chan ability to change people's bio-sex isn't super well known in-universe. So even if people saw him on the news and were like "wait wasn't Crocodile a chick", without knowledge of Iva's abilities people could've been like "no way, surely not, that's not possible". And although the Government maybe could've found it suspicious if they knew about Iva's abilities (which they might've, as Ivankov was a Revolutionary, and their Warlord interacting with a Revolutionary would be sus), as long as Crocodile played nice (which he did, during his Heroic Era) they might've just let it go? (Also if Crocodile was rich at the time he probably could've bribed Morgans to make sure whatever news they published about him didn't ever question his gender or anything)

So all of this to say,

The Most Likely and Most Viable Timeline for Crocodad to be canon would be, approximately;

24-25 Becomes a Shichibukai, gets his ass kicked

25-27 Enters his Quiet Era, Romances Dragon

27-28 Luffy is born, transitions, back to Shichibukai'ing

Of course, this is not an absolute timeline, it's just the one that seems the most viable to me. 'Cause even this timeline is really pushing what Oda and Iva have told us about Crocodile, both the "first half of his 20's" (as opposited to mid 20's), and the "when he was considdered a rookie".

It's pushing it. But it's kind of plausible. And I can't imagine how else it could work in canon.

I do find it interesting though how Crocodile's "quiet era" does overlap nicely with when Luffy was born. Like we don't know how long that era lasted, for all we know Crocodile could've started to get Alabasta like a year after getting his ass kicked by Whitebeard. But it's interesting! And interesting coincidence!

Another interesting note is that 17 is an... interesting number. Like Oda's first one-shot, WANTED! was published when Oda was 17 and that in some ways marks the begining to his adventure as a comic artist. Similarly, Luffy set out on his adventure at the age of 17. A lot of people have been speculating if the God Valley Incident is what caused Dragon to leave the Marines because he would've been 17 at the time. And... It's not quite the same, but if Crocodile transitioned at 27 (as in, started a 'new life', a 'new adventure' as a man at 27)... IDK it'd be an interesting coincidence

Sitenote Re:Missing Kuja Empress

19 years ago, the year Luffy was born, Hancock and her sisters were kidnapped off of the Kuja Pirate's ship when the previous Empress was still the head of the crew

15 years ago the Boa sisters escape slavery and return to Amazon Lily, the status of the former Empress is unknown

13 years ago Hancock becomes the new Empress, the former Empress is presumably dead by this point (as she is said to have died from Love Sickness)

Point being; I reaaally doubt Crocodile is the missing Empress. Like if the former Empress had also been a Shichibukai and had transitioned and was still around, there's no fucking way people wouldn't know about that, right. Like surely they wouldn't say she had died specifically of Love Sickness, right. Like it's not impossible but surely not

[gr0ggy]

ᖴOᖇ YOᑌ (​ᗰIGᑌEᒪ ᙭ ᗷᒪK!ᖇEᗩᗪEᖇ)

warnings: 18+ dbf!miguel o'Hara, age gap (reader is 25, Miguel is 44), all characters are adults, dad’s best friend Miguel, sexual content, gabriella exists, no use of yn, miguel x reader, Miguel is spiderman, Miguel is a whore, black reader, descriptions of hair and skin, slow, Miguel doesn’t know you’re his best friends daughter until later, swearing, mother father and brother's name mentioned

wc: 4.3k

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓: 𝐀𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚'

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A few days had passed since the dinner, and you were a mess. Every time your phone rang and Dad appeared at the top of the screen, a knot of anxiety twisted in your stomach. You panicked, thinking this is it. You were sure he'd finally pieced it together—the tension between you and Miguel at dinner, the glances you tried to hide but failed miserably at. But the conversation never went that way.

When you finally answered one of his calls, his tone was casual. Actually, annoyingly casual. it was 11:34 am.

"So, about that babysitting thing you agreed to," he said matter-of-factly.

Your heart sank, your stomach doing an uncomfortable flip. "Uh, yeah?" you replied cautiously.

"Miguel needs you to watch Gabriella tonight at five. You free?"

Wait, what? Your brows furrowed, and a flicker of irritation sparked in you.

"Why didn't he just tell me that himself?" you asked, trying to sound as indifferent as possible. But inside, you were fuming. Is he seriously avoiding me?

Your dad didn't seem to notice the edge in your voice. "I don't know. Maybe he didn't want to bother you directly. Anyway, it's settled, right? You'll do it?"

You wanted to protest, to come up with an excuse, but instead, you sighed and muttered, "Yeah, fine."

"Great," he said, completely oblivious. "I'll let him know. Thanks, kiddo."

The line went dead, and you stared at your phone for a moment, your irritation growing. What the hell, Miguel?

Was he really avoiding you? You replayed the last conversation in your head—the charged moment outside his car, the tension that simmered beneath every word you exchanged. Sure, you'd both agreed it'll never happen again, but now it felt like he was going out of his way to keep his distance.

And damn it, you weren't sure if you were angry at him for avoiding you... or angry at yourself for wanting him not to.

____________________________________________

Later that day, at exactly 3:45, your phone buzzed. This time, it wasn't your dad—it was Miguel.

323 Edgewood Ct

The message was short, followed by a second one almost immediately.

The gate code is 0314.

You stared at the screen for a second, feeling an odd mix of relief, frustration, and something you couldn't quite name. Finally, you thought. He reached out himself. But the irritation lingered—why had he gone through your dad in the first place?

You typed a simple thumbs-up emoji and hit send. That seemed neutral enough. Still, as you locked your phone, your thoughts spiraled. Part of you wanted to tell him off, to demand why he couldn't just ask you directly the first time. Another part, a more reckless, dangerous part, wanted to slam your mouth against his and drag him back into the attraction you both kept pretending wasn't there.

You arrived 15 minutes earlier than expected. The cool autumn air bit at your cheeks as you stepped out of your car, your breath visible in little white puffs. You slipped off your glove, fingers trembling slightly, though you weren't sure if it was from the cold or the anticipation.

You punched in the code, 0314, and felt the gate click open. As you walked up the path, you couldn't shake the mixture of anger and excitement building in your chest. Why does he have to make things so complicated? you thought.

Inside, Miguel was rushing to tidy up. He'd spent the last ten minutes picking up stray toys, straightening the couch cushions, and wiping down the kitchen counters. Now, he stood in the living room, debating whether he should change his shirt before you arrived. But before he could decide, the knock came.

He let out a breath, ran a hand through his hair, and headed to the door.

When he opened it, there you were. Casual but stunning—how did you even manage that? You wore a cream colored frilly shirt and jeans. Your hair framed your face in soft coils, and the thick gold hoops on your ears caught the afternoon light, gleaming against your skin.

Miguel's eyes did that thing again, the thing where they refused to behave. They traveled down your body, lingering too long before he caught himself. He cleared his throat, straightening his back.

"Hey," he said, his voice raspier than he intended. "You're early."

"Yeah, sorry about that," you replied, shifting your weight awkwardly. "I should've texted, but... I figured it'd give you more time to, I don't know, go do whatever it is you need to do."

Miguel shook his head, stepping aside. "No need to apologize. Come in."

You hesitated for just a moment before stepping inside. The warmth of his house wrapped around you, and the faint scent of his cologne mixed with something earthy—whiskey, maybe—filled your senses.

"I—" You both started speaking at the same time.

"Oh, you go first," he said, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

"No, no, you."

Miguel studied you for a moment, his eyes lingering on your face, your lips, as if trying to read what was going through your mind. The weight of his gaze made your skin prickle, and you cursed yourself for how easy it was to lose your composure around him.

"Okay," you said finally, your voice softening. "I was thinking... maybe we could talk? In private?"

His brow furrowed slightly. You could see a flicker of something in his expression—curiosity? Concern? Eagerness?

"Sure," he said, gesturing toward a door off the main hallway. "My office."

You followed him into a small room that somehow felt more intimate than you'd expected. The air was thick with his scent, and the dark wood furniture added to the room's warm, masculine feel. He closed the door behind you with a soft click and leaned casually against his desk, crossing his forearms.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, his deep voice laced with genuine concern.

You inhaled deeply, trying to steady your nerves. "Well," you started, "I just find it... ridiculous that you couldn't just reach out to me directly."

His brows knitted tighter. "What do you mean?"

You crossed your arms, your voice growing firmer. "Using my dad to tell me to come watch your kid?"

He tilted his head, confusion flickering across his face. "I didn't think it was that big of a deal—"

"It is a big deal," you cut him off, your words sharper than you intended. "I mean, yeah, we had sex, but that doesn't mean we can't be professional." to him, it seems like it's more than that.

Miguel's mouth opened slightly, then shut. His jaw tightened for a moment, and he looked down at the floor before meeting your eyes again.

"Look," he said evenly, "it wasn't about avoiding you. I just didn't want to... complicate things."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "Complicate things? Miguel, it's already complicated!"

The room went silent for a moment, the weight of your words settling between you. He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair.

"You're right," he admitted. His voice was softer now, almost apologetic. "It is complicated. But it's not like I'm trying to avoid you." He was so calm and collected, it was almost sexy.

"Then what are you trying to do?" you asked, your tone quieter but no less intense.

Miguel's eyes searched yours, and for a brief second, you thought he might say something—something real, something honest. But instead, he straightened up, leaning off the desk.

"I'm just trying to do what's best," he said, his voice measured.

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. "Right. What's best." How is not talking to me 'what's best'?

Your words hung in the air, and neither of you moved. The tension was unbearable, the air thick with unsaid things.

You broke the silence first, your voice softer now. "You could've just texted me, Miguel."

He sighed, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I know. I'll remember that next time."

"Good," you replied, your tone still laced with frustration. But as you turned to leave, you could feel his eyes on you, the tension between you still simmering beneath the surface.

"Where are you going, if you don't mind me asking?" Your voice was casual, but there was an edge to it, a layer of curiosity you couldn't quite mask.

Miguel's gaze lingered on you for a beat longer than necessary, his expression unreadable. "I've got a work thing," he replied smoothly, his voice even, though there was a hint of distraction. His lips curved slightly, just enough to suggest the beginnings of a smirk. "Nothing too exciting—just one of those mandatory corporate dinners."

You nodded, the tension in your shoulders easing just a bit. "I see..." Your tone softened, and the air between you shifted, growing just a fraction calmer.

Miguel, ever perceptive, noticed the subtle change in your demeanor. It intrigued him—your reactions always did. They were small, quiet things, but he caught them every time. His curiosity flared, his gaze sharpening as he tilted his head slightly.

"Why do you ask?" His voice held a touch of amusement now, warm and inviting, as he took a deliberate step closer. The distance between you shrank, and you could feel the intensity of his presence in the small gap that remained.

"I dunno..." You shrugged lightly, the corner of your lips twitching into a faint smile. "I guess I'm just nosy."

Miguel chuckled, a rich, low sound that filled the room. "Figured as much," he teased, his tone playful as his arms folded across his chest.

The way he leaned against the wall, so casually confident, made your heart race. He had this way of commanding a room without even trying, and the way his dark eyes locked onto yours only added to the magnetic pull between you.

"Anyone ever tell you that curiosity killed the cat?" he said, his smirk deepening.

"Yeah," you shot back, matching his energy. "But anyone ever tell you satisfaction brought it back?"

For a moment, the tension between you snapped taut like a live wire. The banter was light, but the heat beneath it was unmistakable. You felt your pulse quicken as his gaze flicked down briefly to your lips, then back up to meet your eyes.

You cleared your throat, trying to steady yourself and pull back from the edge. "I just wanted to know... in case Gabriella asks," you said, your tone softer now, though you avoided his eyes.

Miguel chuckled again, this time softer, as if he could see right through you. "Just looking out for Gabriella, huh?" His voice held that same playful edge, though the warmth in it was undeniable.

You shifted under his gaze, the weight of it making it hard to think clearly. "Mr. O'Hara..." The words slipped out, surprising even you. You'd never called him that before, and it came out with an almost teasing lilt.

His brow quirked, the smirk returning to his lips. "Yes?"

"I—" Whatever you were about to say was interrupted by the sound of tiny footsteps thudding across the floor.

"Daddy, look!" Gabriella's voice rang out, full of excitement, as she bounded into the room, clutching a small bunny stuffed animal in her hand.

Miguel's attention immediately shifted to his daughter, his expression softening in an instant. He crouched down to her level, a warm smile spreading across his face as he scooped her up effortlessly. "What've you got there, Mija?"

"It's my bunny!" she said proudly, holding it up for him to see.

"That's a good-looking bunny," he said, nuzzling her cheek affectionately before glancing back at you.

You smiled, crouching slightly to meet Gabriella's eye line. "Hey, Gabriella! Remember me?"

Her eyes lit up with recognition, and her smile grew impossibly wider. "Yeah!" she said, waving the bunny at you as if it were saying hello too.

"Guess what?" you said, your voice warm and inviting. "I'm gonna be babysitting you tonight."

Gabriella's face brightened even more, and she looked between you and her dad, practically bouncing in his arms. "Yay!" she squealed, waving her bunny excitedly.

Miguel chuckled, glancing between the two of you with a look that was both amused and appreciative. "Looks like someone's excited," he said, his tone soft.

You smiled back at Gabi. "We're going to have so much fun, aren't we?" Then, glancing back at Miguel, you asked, "Can I call you Gabi?"

Miguel noticed the subtle way your eyes flicked to him, even as you spoke to his daughter. He nodded, watching the way you connected with her.

"Yeah! You can call me Gabi!" she said happily.

Miguel stood, placing Gabriella back on the ground. "Alright, Gabi," he said, his tone serious but warm. "You be good for her, okay?"

"I will!" she promised, clutching her bunny tightly.

You straightened up, glancing at Miguel again. "Don't worry, Mr. O'Hara. She's in good hands."

His eyes lingered on you, something unspoken passing between you. "Thanks," he said, his voice low and sincere.

Miguel crouched to give Gabriella one more kiss on the forehead, then straightened up and turned toward the door. But before he left, his gaze found yours again. It was the kind of look that made your chest tighten like he wanted to say something but didn't.

"Be good," he said softly, his voice directed at both of you, though his eyes stayed on yours for a moment too long.

You watched as he opened the door and stepped outside, the lingering heat of his presence still filling the space.

Gabi tugged at your leg, bringing you back to reality. "Are we gonna play now?"

You smiled down at her, placing a hand gently on her head. "Yeah, Gabi. Let's go play."

As the door clicked shut behind Miguel, you let out a quiet breath. I hate when he looks at me like that. The thought echoed in your mind, but you couldn't deny the warmth that lingered long after he was gone.

___________________________________________

The night unfolded effortlessly, a comforting rhythm settling in as you spent time with Gabriella. She was eager to show you her favorite songs, her tiny hands swiping expertly through a playlist on her tablet. Her face lit up as she sang along, her enthusiasm contagious. You couldn’t help but join in, laughing at her adorable dance moves.

Afterward, you worked on a puzzle together, the two of you piecing together a vivid picture of a magical castle. When that was complete, you moved on to board games. Gabi was competitive in the cutest way, scrunching her nose when she lost and cheering loudly when she won.

By dinnertime, you decided to keep it simple: spaghetti and asparagus. Gabi, however, wasn’t a fan of the asparagus. She scrunched up her face dramatically after taking a single bite, pushing it aside on her plate with an exaggerated groan. “Yuck!” she declared, making you laugh.

For dessert, you suggested making cupcakes, and her face lit up like Christmas morning. She insisted on being the “chef,” claiming the single apron in the kitchen for herself. It was far too big for her, the straps dragging on the floor, but she wore it proudly.

As the two of you mixed the batter, Gabi’s enthusiasm got the better of her. She accidentally tipped the bowl slightly, and a glob of batter splattered onto your shirt. Her eyes went wide with alarm. “I’m so sorry!” she said, her voice high-pitched with worry.

You laughed, waving off her apology. “It’s okay, Gabi. Just part of the fun.”

But Gabi wasn’t satisfied. “You can borrow one of my shirts!” she offered earnestly, already darting toward her room.

You grinned, shaking your head as you followed her. “I think your shirts might be a little… small for me,” you teased.

Gabi giggled, grabbing your hand and tugging you toward Miguel’s room instead. “Then you can wear one of Daddy’s!” she announced with a sense of authority, leading you to his closet.

You hesitated at the doorway, unsure if you should rummage through his things. But Gabi was persistent, pulling out a soft, oversized sweater and holding it up proudly. “Here! This one’s big!”

With a reluctant sigh, you gave in, slipping into the sweater. It was warm and impossibly soft, the fabric carrying a faint hint of Miguel’s cologne. The scent was subtle but distinct, and it lingered around you as you threw your batter-stained shirt into the washer.

When you returned to the living room, Gabi was already curled up on the couch, waiting to resume the movie you’d started earlier. You joined her, the two of you sinking into the cushions as you laughed at the antics on the screen. Before long, her little head began to droop, her eyelids fluttering shut as she succumbed to sleep.

You carefully tucked a blanket around her, her stuffed bunny clutched tightly in her arms. The house grew quiet, the only sound coming from the soft hum of the movie’s credits rolling in the background.

Not long after, the sound of keys jingling broke the silence, followed by the click of the front door opening. Miguel stepped inside, his tall frame filling the doorway as he looked around. His eyes softened when he saw Gabi sleeping peacefully on the couch, then flicked to you.

You were still in his sweater, your legs tucked under you as you looked up at him. The sight of you like that, comfortable in his home, stirred something in him. But he didn’t say anything. Instead, he gave you a small, grateful smile, his gaze lingering for just a moment longer before he walked further inside.

____________________________________________

 The oversized sweater hung off you like a soft blanket, the sleeves loose and baggy, the hem just barely brushing above your thighs. The fabric was warm and carried his scent—a mix of cedarwood, spice, and something distinctly Miguel. You felt vulnerable and oddly comfortable all at once. You slipped out from under Gabi’s tiny grasp, her stuffed bunny still tucked into her arms, and gently placed her head on a pillow. She didn’t stir as you stood, her small chest rising and falling in steady rhythm.

You made your way to Miguel, who was standing in the doorway, his broad shoulders still framed by the soft glow from outside. His gaze was already on you, lingering with an intensity that made your heart race. He glanced briefly at the kitchen, where evidence of your baking escapade was clear—a small dusting of flour on the counter, a bowl left soaking in the sink, a few stray cupcake sprinkles scattered here and there. His lips curved into a soft chuckle.

"Hey," you greeted him, your voice hushed to match the quiet of the room.

"Hey," Miguel replied, his voice low, warm. His eyes returned to you, dark and smoldering as they drank at the sight of you wearing his old college sweater. It hung loosely over your frame, the strings frayed, the material soft against your skin. Dios mío... you look too good in that, he thought but kept the words to himself.

"Um, sorry about the kitchen," you said quickly, feeling self-conscious under his gaze. You gestured vaguely toward the baking mess. "I’ll clean it up before I go."

He let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head as if to dismiss the thought. "Don’t worry about it," he said, his voice soft but firm. His eyes lingered a beat too long on you, trailing from the messy bun atop your head to the way his sweater fell over your curves.

"You don’t have to clean. I’ll handle it," Miguel continued, his gaze snapping back to your face. Then his brows raised slightly, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. "... Is that my sweater?"

Your cheeks warmed instantly. "Yeah, uh," you began awkwardly, glancing down at yourself, tugging at the hem. "I got cupcake batter on my shirt, so I threw it in the wash. Gabi insisted I grab something from your closet."

Miguel leaned slightly against the counter, crossing his arms. The motion made his biceps flex just enough to be distracting. "It’s fine," he said, his voice dropping an octave. His smirk widened just slightly. "Looks better on you anyway."

You pressed your lips together, trying to stifle the flutter in your stomach. "She had a couple of cupcakes," you said, changing the subject. "But she crashed pretty hard after her sugar rush."

Miguel chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Yeah, that sounds about right," he said. His gaze softened as it flicked briefly to Gabi, still sleeping soundly on the couch. Then, it shifted back to you, and the tension returned, thick and heavy in the air.

"Thanks," Miguel said quietly, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. "She seems happy. Did she give you any trouble?"

You shook your head, folding your arms across your chest, unconsciously mimicking his posture. "No, not at all. She’s a sweetheart. Honestly, it was fun."

"Good," he murmured, watching you closely. His eyes traced the way you hugged yourself, the way you avoided his gaze when he looked at you for too long. Something about you seemed uneasy, guarded, but he couldn’t quite figure out why.

He moved toward the kitchen island, setting his briefcase down. The sound of the latches clicking open broke the silence, and he pulled out his checkbook. "How much do I owe you?"

The question caught you off guard. You blinked, stammering, "Oh, um... whatever you think is fair."

Miguel raised a brow, pausing mid-motion. "That’s not how this works," he said with a smirk. "Just tell me. Hourly rate?"

"Uh... seventy dollars?" you said hesitantly, cringing inwardly. You hated talking about money. "I mean, if that’s okay—"

"Seventy dollars?" Miguel interrupted, clearly unimpressed. "No. You babysat for four hours. Thirty-five an hour. That’s one forty."

Your eyes widened. "Miguel, that’s too much—"

"It’s not too much," he cut you off smoothly, his tone firm but not unkind. "It’s what I’d pay anyone else. And you’ve gone above and beyond."

He began writing the check, his pen gliding over the paper with practiced ease. "Besides," he added, his voice dipping lower as he glanced up at you, "you’re worth it."

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, your stomach twisting into knots. "Mr. O’Hara," you said, your voice shaky but your tone sharp, trying to deflect. "I—"

"Mr. O’Hara?" Miguel interrupted, setting the pen down and raising a brow. His lips curved into an amused smile. "You’ve been calling me that a lot lately. Why so formal all of a sudden?"

You hesitated, your heart pounding. "Maybe... maybe it’s to remind myself to stay professional," you admitted, though your voice lacked conviction.

Miguel tilted his head, his smile widening. "Professional, huh?" His tone was teasing, almost daring. He took a step closer, closing the space between you.

"You know," he said, his voice dropping to a low rumble, "most babysitters don’t end up wearing their client’s clothing."

You crossed your arms tighter over your chest, your cheeks heating. "You’re really stuck on this sweater," you shot back defensively.

"Not stuck," he said, his eyes flicking down to the oversized fabric draping over your frame. "Just saying—it looks better on you than it ever did on me."

His words hung in the air, heavy and unspoken, as he took another slow step closer. The space between you grew smaller, and his presence felt overwhelming, intoxicating.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely a whisper. "Mmm..."

Miguel’s gaze didn’t waver, and for a moment, it felt like the world had gone still.

He reached out and placed a hand on your hip, slowly pulling you closer. The distance between you was almost non-existent now, your bodies pressed against each other. He could feel the heat of your skin as he looked down at you.

"You're really somethin'... you know that?" He whispered, my breath warm against your neck. 

"Careful," He murmured. The hand on your hip tightened, holding you in place. "Don't fall."

You couldn’t help it, a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips, and a soft laugh was about to escape when you quickly straightened your face, biting it back. His amused expression faded, replaced with something deeper, something intense. The air between you shifted, electric and heavy, as your eyes locked.

Neither of you looked away. It wasn’t just eye contact, it was a silent conversation, a wordless exchange. His eyes, dark and full of something you couldn’t quite name, held yours in place, refusing to let you go. And then, as if drawn by an invisible force, your gaze flicked downward—to his lips.

Big mistake.

The moment hung, fragile and weighted, before shattering like glass. It was as if both of you had reached the same decision at the exact same time. Without thinking, without hesitation, your bodies moved in perfect sync. His hands came up, one brushing lightly against your cheek, the other settling firmly on your waist, pulling you closer.

And then, your lips met.

It wasn’t gentle or tentative. It was heated, desperate, as though the tension that had been building between you for so long had finally snapped. Your breath hitched as his mouth claimed yours, the kiss urgent and hungry. One of your hands found its way to his chest, feeling the firm muscle beneath his shirt, while the other gripped the fabric of his sweater that you were still wearing.

His lips were soft yet commanding, moving against yours in a way that made your knees weak. He tasted faintly of mint and something entirely him, a flavor you knew you’d never forget. You moaned into the kiss, making sure to keep quiet, gripping his neck. His hand on your waist tightened, pulling you impossibly closer, and you melted into him, your heart pounding like a drum in your chest. Your pelvis grinded into him as you felt his hand pull you at the small of your back. Your mouth was warm, the kiss was fiery, passionate, needy.

The world around you faded. There was no kitchen, no couch, and no sleeping child nearby. There was only him, his warmth, his touch, the way he kissed you like he’d been waiting forever to do it. And maybe he had.

When you finally broke apart, gasping for air, his forehead rested lightly against yours. His breath was uneven, matching your own, his eyes searching yours as if to gauge what the hell you were thinking.

"That... probably shouldn’t have happened," you whispered, though your voice was far from convincing.

Miguel smirked, his lips still brushing against yours. "No," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "But it did."

And neither of you moved away.

____________________________________________

Taglist: @keidilla

[the-bar-sinister]

In Justice We Trust (112389 words) by thesavagesabretooth With Simon Blackquill and Athena Cykes assigned as their psychologists, the Phantom and Fulbright must grapple with their identity, their deeds, their future, and their love for the twisted samurai whom they betrayed.

All the while, Edgeworth and Wright find their relationship tested as they walk the narrow path between pursuing real justice, and the dark age of the law.

-

December 25, 10:45 am

The door to the private conference room shut with a click behind Agent Sheila Ash after she’d gestured Robert inside, and she had ushered him over to the table in the center to offer him a seat.

“Thank you for agreeing to have a little chit chat, Detective…it’s nothing bad, I promise.” 

"I'd hope not, Agent Ash," Robert said. He couldn't deny that being in the conference room alone with her made him a little anxious. Surely he hadn't misjudged. Surely she wasn't–

Bobby cut off his anxious thoughts with a broad smile to the woman. "Or do you prefer Sheila, since we're not working? I assume. Uh, actually for all I know this could be work related!"

You're so terribly awkward, Bobby.The woman stared at him from a moment as she leaned on the tabletop across from him. She’d slipped out of the coat and had it draped over one tan and freckled shoulder, the red dress body hugging and daring enough to be the talk of any ballroom event.

The sultry dignity of the dress was somewhat broken when she started laughing again.

“PFFFFT!!! HAHAHAHAH” she laughed, holding her stomach for a brief, brief moment before she managed to press her hand to her face to stifle it.

“You’re so funny, Detective Halblicht! Snrk–...” she swallowed her laughter, but the grin remained “you sound like a stuttering schoolboy. Call me Sheila.”

She leaned against the table with a sly edge to her smile. “...and what should I call you?” 

Bobby let himself down into the chair, as awkwardly as he spoke, flushing both from the agent's laughter, and from Robert's remark.

Am I really that awkward? I am, aren't I?

Someone must think it's charming, Bobby.

He rubbed the back of his neck and grinned over at Sheila. "Ah, Bobby's fine, under the circumstances."

“It’s a pleasure, Bobby.” She finally settled opposite him in the chair, tossing her hair over her shoulder before she leaned on her elbows with her hands tucked under her chin.

“I want to thank you for your work in exposing the spy in my ranks. While I had my suspicions…having your help in cornering her was …well. It was invaluable.”

He snapped a salute to her and smiled again. "Well, it was my pleasure, honestly, ma'am. Quite the unjust little pickle we picked apart today."

“It always is when spies are involved.” She chuckled again, seeming to catch herself before it became a full on laugh. She idly saluted him back, before she went back to tenting her fingers. “You always need a spy to catch a spy, making the whole thing…tricky. Especially in the eyes of Lady Justice.” 

He grinned a little slyly.

Can I say it, Robert?

She's baiting us, Bobby. Just go ahead.

"I suppose we'd both know a little something about that!"

Another round of laughter spilled from her lips and she lightly slapped the table with a grin. 

“You did know. Hah! I knew it!!” She grinned widely enough to show her eyeteeth again. “Takes a spy to know a spy, after all…I’d been hoping.” 

"I've seen your file," he nodded, leaning on his hand. "Well, the Calisto Yew file anyway. And Agent Badd happened to say something that put it in my mind when we had a little chat the other day. It wasn't hard to spot."

"Well, for me, anyway," Robert clarified. "I'm sure most people would have no idea."

Sheila’s eyes closed.

“Was it his little ‘second chances’ speech?” He really is a sweetheart under all that gristle, isn’t he?” She put her finger to her lips “It’s true…it’s an open secret among the inner circles, and an information blackout beyond them. But, given you’re on a similar boat, I felt confident we could confide.”

She winked at him. “It’s a liberating feeling, isn’t it? Being free of the g..” her lips twitched, and there was a brief note of…something…in her eyes as she stifled a laugh. “...the job.” 

"Liberating," Robert tried the word out on his tongue. "I suppose that I'd agree with that, yes."

Picking his own suits. Deciding what he'd have for breakfast. Taking a shower because he wanted a shower.

Even if it was shared with Bobby– it was liberating, wasn't it. The freedom to choose.

“Back when I was a dog of Cohdopia…” her expression darkened for the briefest moment, “I was nothing but my service to Alba and his international crime ring. Like you, I didn’t even have a name. It was the Great Game of Espionage and I was a pawn.”

She tapped her nose. “I’ve read your file too. Lang had me listen to your interviews. So I know you understand, or…will understand, just how…freeing…choice can be. The feeling of escape when you finally slit your former master’s throats… metaphorically or literally, of course.” 

Robert smiled thinly. He hadn't imagined it before. Hadn't dared to. It was such an impossible idea.

Robert…. metaphorically…

He banished the thought from their mind.

"Metaphorically," he nodded, "of course. So, we've both read one another's files. We have… a fair amount in common I suppose. If not in specifics, then in broad strokes."

“Enough to find a kindred spirit!” She laughed out loud, lightly smacking the table. “Or something of its nature.”

She leaned back on her hands “they took your emotions from you, or at least stamped them down, right? They absolutely shattered and distorted mine with a cruel little trick.” 

He adjusted his glasses and nodded, "That's what they tell me, yes. I suppose I'm still… grappling with it."

"I'm definitely still grappling with it," Bobby said more firmly. You are absolutely still grappling with it. "But what do you mean? About you, exactly? I didn't see anything specific in the file, although…"

“It’ll take some getting used to.” Sheila said, brushing her hair over her shoulder. “Having people around who understand, or are willing to try, will do wonders…but it’ll likely always be a bit of a struggle. I genuinely wish you luck.”

She tilted her head, before she smiled and framed it with her fingers. 

“Weaponized unreality, my friend. ‘The only reality is the mission and your obedience’. ‘You have no name, only a part to play in The Game’. ‘The Mission is reality, and everything else is a game’. If it’s bashed into you enough, your brain clicks and sees everything outside the mission as unreal. Fake. A game. And they told you to laugh at it. That’s what my handler said, anyhow.”

She started to snicker, covering her mouth. “Because it’s all a big joke. It’s all a fun pantomime . It’s empty, meaningless, and laughable. Except!” she struggled down the laughter and finished “the mission. That’s important. That’s reality.” 

"Ah," Robert nodded in understanding. "That's certainly a different tactic than we were trained under.

He didn't say better. He had no idea whether it was more effective or not.

“It certainly made killing easier,” She leaned on her hand with a tired smile. “Until it didn’t. But despite our differences, we wound up in the same place. Former weapons learning to be a person.”

She stared him down. “I’m admittedly curious about you. What your plans are, now that we’re unraveling the organization string by string.” 

"It's flattering of you to assume that I have plans," he said. "At the moment, I'm just surviving day to day."

It was the truth. Maybe Bobby had plans. He had hopes, certainly. Robert just wanted to keep going.

Sheila nodded thoughtfully, smiling thinly despite the slight huff of what was probably an aborted laughing fit.

“That’s all you can do, I’m afraid. I’d have been in the same boat if it wasn’t for Shi-long and Tyrell giving a direction to point myself in after my grand escape.” She gestured towards him with fingers spread. “Here's hoping that it becomes more than just survival, day by day.” 

"Here's hoping," Bobby agreed with a little smile. He wrung his hands together. "Shi-long and Tyrell– they're interpol agents, aren't they? Tyrell is Agent Badd?"

“That’s right,” Sheila flashed her wolfish smile. “Agent Tyrell Badd, and Agent Shi-long Lang…the two people closest to me in the world. I may not be great at being a person, but it’s thanks to them I managed at all.” 

He leaned on his hand, and idly drew circles on the table between them. "Agent Badd– he said you cut his heart out. You guys must have some serious history, huh?"

Robert listened in passively– maybe even a little bit embarrassed by the raw obviousness of Bobby's emotions.

Sheila Ash seemed to have noticed, especially with the way a note of amusement wrote itself into her voice and her smile.

“You could say that. Way back when, in one of my more intensive cover identities, we were part of the same cadre of ‘Great Thieves’. Two of three legs of the Yatagarasu. The connection went deep…deeper than just thievery to reform the legal system and uproot organizations like the one I was secretly owned by.”

Her fingers twined through her hair, wrapping a strand around her finger as she smirked. 

“He, my lover Byrne Faraday, and I…is it any wonder feelings began to blossom? Of course, at the time…” She started to snicker again, physically clenching over her chest. “I was convinced it was nothing but the part, and that the whole thing was really, really very funny.”

Her eyes flicked to the side. “I cut his heart out when I drove my knife into Byrne’s on my master’s command. He was getting too close. The truth came out, and the man was left the sole leg of the Yatagarasu and with the seeming truth that it’d all been a cruel joke.”

Bobby's eyes widened and Robert could feel the hot sting of tears beading at the sides of them.

"Oh no… Miss Sheila, that's terrible… they forced you to… oh lady justice…" He wrung his hands under the table again. "I'm sorry. But it sounds like you and he, eventually…"

“What’s done is done. Our daughter avenged his memory by taking down Alba with that hilarious fop of a prosecutor,” Sheila’s own eyes were half closed, and despite the dismissive wave of her hand and the quiet laugh it seemed to weigh heavy on her.

“And eventually…yes.” she tucked her hair over her ear. “It wasn’t easy, Bobby. Whether I had the choice or not, I stole the life of someone we both cared for…but eventually..” she smiled a little more genuinely. “He said he was going to try to trust me again, even after everything. He gave me another chance, one I don’t intend to waste.” 

Bobby dabbed at his eyes, and nodded. "I'm happy for you, Miss Sheila. I don't intend to waste mine either, though I don't know if I'll be as lucky as you."

Lucky's one word for it, Bobby. Did she say she has a daughter? Hell of a trick to pull off.“Oh, you never know.” Sheila’s dark red eyes stayed locked on his. “Make amends, bring down the people who’ve hurt you, and remember that the ice we walk on may be thin but the promised shore is worth the risk.”

She laughed , though she kept it restrained. 

“Thanks, Bobby…who knows,maybe your ‘special someone’ is just waiting for the moment to make amends.” She snickered into her sleeve. “They can’t be any more stubborn than Tyrell…or Shi-long for that matter.” 

He chuckled a little. "I suppose we'll see. But I very much hope that you're right. Though I intend to make my amends and this all down, no matter what else does or doesn't happen."

“Good man,” Sheila leaned back in her chair with an approving nod. “I’ll give you my number, hmm? Keep in contact, let me know how it’s going. If you need to talk to someone who ‘understands’, or if you need a job, or whatever.”

The smile crawled onto her face again. “Like a support group for the unglamorous life of ex-espionage escapees.”

He chuckled. "Hell of a support group, but really, I'll take all the help I can get!."

December 25, 11:00 am

Simon and Athena had chatted for a little while more in quiet voices as he dried his eyes, and continued to thank her. But eventually he'd asked for some time alone to think, while they had the chance, and Athena headed down to the dining room for a snack to calm her nerves.

It’d been a long day–a day of sharp lows and strange highs. The fight with Apollo followed on the heels of the first morning to feel almost normal since the moonlit trial where everything had fallen apart. The horror of the investigation gave way to the unexpected rush of solving it by Simon and Halblicht’s side…the synergy in the hunt for truth that led to an uncomfortable conclusion.

Another child beaten into someone deadly and nameless currently in Interpol custody.

It was a day of ups and downs…her heart hadn’t stopped racing, not even through the expected yet still surprising conversation with Simon. She’d said she’d always understand…and she would.

But the whole thing weighed on her shoulders and nerves all the same. It carried her in a haze all the way to the dining room on plodding feet. 

"Hey, Athena!" The voice that greeted her as she headed in was a familiar one– her boss, in fact. Phoenix Wright was seated at a table in the corner with a cup of coffee, and waving her over.

“Wuh?? Huh??” Athena jolted out of her own thoughts…the spiraling confusion of her own feelings sitting heavy in her chest as they were forced to a stop. “Oh!”

She flashed her brightest smile and waved. “Hey Boss! How’s it going!?” 

"Not too bad! Come and take a load off, I heard you had a busy morning!" He leaned on his hand. "If I know you, you're gonna need more than just a cup of coffee, too."

Athena rubbed the back of her neck with a nod of her head as she settled in across from him. 

“Honestly, I think I might.” She shook her head “I didn’t expect to be rooting out a spy in Interpol’s midst when I woke up this morning!” 

Wright chuckled. "I know, some Christmas, huh? Feels like it's never quite normal at the Wright Anything Agency, I guess." He handed her the menu from where it lay on the table.

Athena took it and started scanning it curiously. 

“...that’s right, it’s Christmas.” she mused with a shake of her head “Justitia…I guess not, huh? Weirdness never takes a holiday!” 

"Sure doesn't. 11 years at this time I was getting ready to defend Edgeworth from a murder charge. Now he's the chief prosecutor. Wild, isn't it?"

Her boss; emotions were a lot more even today than the last time she had seen him– and more even than she had worried, given the circumstance. It could have been the resolution that had evened him out– or it could have been the case itself.

Athena laughed.

“Time has a way of changing everything. 11 years ago…I was near mute and my only friends were…well. Mostly robots…and Simon.” She looked up at him with a half smile, “but I think you like it when it’s not some humdrum holiday. I’m right, yeah?” 

He chuckled, and sipped his coffee. "I guess you caught me there. We were your backup by the way, today. Me, Edgeworth and Gumshoe. Hope the info helped."

“I thought it mighta been you.” Athena laughed as she decided to start with some coffee. “It helped a lot. We’d been piecing things together, but Kelso leaving the airport, and the evidence from the car helped us tighten the trap.”

She grimaced, the memory of the young woman raising the gun to her head flashing through her mind. “So…so thanks. Genuinely.”

He nodded with a smile. "I gotta help out my protege, right? It's a good boss' duty."

The waitress came around a moment later and took Athena's order, after which, Phoenix leaned on his hands.

"So how are you holding up, protege? Really. I know there's a hell of a lot on your shoulders. You've been having one of those Wright Anything weeks."

“Where anything and everything tries to put you down?” Athena laughed. “Yeah, sir… I sure have. Is it bad that I’ve almost forgotten I got accused of murder?”

She hadn’t forgotten…not even once. That night was etched in her mind as the world turned to moments of sharp clarity interposed with a strange haze of dissociated time that didn’t quite feel real. 

"It happens," Wright chuckled. "I think everybody in the office has been accused of murder– except maybe Apollo…"

“Oh, I’m sure his time’ll come.” Athena shook her head with a wry laugh. “...especially if he keeps on trying to beat the life out of Robert every time he sees him.” 

Phoenix grimaced. "Oh, heck– what? Did that happen?"

“Oh, you didn’t hear?” Athena theatrically grimaced, tugging at her ponytail. “this morning we tried to tell him what was going on, and when Robert tried to stop him from yelling at me over it, he started beating the crap outta him.”

Phoenix's grimace grew more horrified, and she could feel the anxiety and anger wafting off of him. "You're kidding! Miles didn't tell him? And then– oh for Justitia's sake!"

“It…We got him to stop, and I think Gumshoe went off after him, so maybe he got him to calm down?” Athena held her hands up. “I thought you knew, boss! I’d have said something but…but …but Miss Kelso came to get us for the investigation right after.” 

He took a deep breath and sighed, putting his hands on the table firmly. Athena could feel his emotions steady, but the anger and anxiety didn't go away completely.

"I'll have to talk to Miles about it. Thank you for bringing me into the loop. Damn though…"

Athena nodded. 

“I thought maybe someone might have told him too…but the more we talked the more I realized nobody had.” She looked down “I can’t blame him for being upset, but I couldn’t let him hurt Robert more than he already had. He hit him right on the wound, you know. It was like he was a different person.” 

Phoenix rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "Well… Apollo's going through a lot right now. He has a fresh wound too, and I'm sure that looking at– Robert– tears it right open again. I'll be honest, I'm really surprised you're holding it together as well as you are. Not that I don't think you should, just, wow, you know?"

She could sense his confusion. As far as Phoenix was concerned, Apollo was having a much more normal reaction than she was.

That wasn’t a surprise to her– Athena had always been a lot of things, but ‘normal’ had never been one of them. Her entire life, her emotions and the way she reacted to them, and the way they reacted with her hypersensitive hearing…

She never reacted to anything the way people expected, which was exactly why he’d worked so hard to pretend for years. She remembered the confused faces of some of Cosmos’ ancillary staff when they met the strange ‘princess of the cosmos center’ for the first time. Felt and heard their judgment in every word, even as they smiled and told her she was cute, or a good kid.

The last week had been chipping through her careful mask little by little…and now she didn’t have the energy to react with the same anger Apollo felt…that most expected she should feel. She wondered, distantly, if it made her seem cold.

And then she realized she hadn’t said a word for a solid minute.

“Oh ah...” Athena flashed a smile at him. “...it’s not as if I’m not struggling…It’s just..”

He put his hand on the center of the table toward her, and smiled a little. "Hey, Athena, it's okay. We all react to things differently. Some people it's easy to see when they're struggling. Others, not so much. Just do me one favor, okay?"

“Yeah, boss?” She asked with a softer smile. 

"If you're hurting, and you don't know what to do, and you think the answer is to just disappear– come see me first, okay?" he smiled a sad little smile. "I won't try to stop you or anything, but, I'd like a heads up. I had a friend once who was hurting, and he just disappeared one day– and I don't think I'm over it."

Athena’s eyes widened 

“Oh..” She bit her lip thoughtfully. “That sort of thing can leave a scar that’s hard to heal…” she looked up with a pump of her fist. “I promise boss…I’ll tell you, alright? But I’m not going anywhere. I’m just…”

He huffed a soft, self-effacing chuckle. and nodded in thanks, waiting for her to continue what she was going to say.

She trailed off quietly before she said. “I wish my mother was here to tell me what she thought of all this.” 

"Your mom, huh… I can relate to that in a way. Whenever I'm messed up, or feeling cornered, I wonder 'what would Mia do'."

Athena nodded slowly as she sipped her coffee. “And then what?” 

"Well, uh–" Phoenix's emotions had shifted. Now he was embarrassed, but happy, and a little nervous. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Honestly? I'm lucky, because… sometimes I get to ask her."

Athena looked up from her coffee with a furrow of her brow. 

“What? Like that case you had once where you had to talk to a ghost?”

He nodded awkwardly. "Like that, yeah. You know my old partner, Maya. She's a spirit medium like little Pearls– well, not so little now– like Pearls is."

Athena sipped her coffee with a furrow of her brow. She’d heard of Maya…it was impossible to work at the Wright Anything Agency without hearing about her. Despite being, as far as Athena was aware, very much alive…she haunted the place like a ghost with how often she came up. She was as much a legend in its walls as Charlie was.

“And you could ask her to speak to Mia and she just…could?” She leaned on her hand.

He nodded slowly. 

"Yeah. Maya could just–" he snapped his fingers, "and suddenly Mia was there. Pearls can do the same thing. It's… I won't lie. It's a lot. I don't know if it would help you at all, Athena. But while Pearl's with us– it's possible, if you wanted to ask her."

Athena’s heart skipped a beat as the last time she saw her mother flashed in her head and the coffee took on the coppery edge of blood from the phantom scent of the Robotics Lab.

She brought it to her lips anyway, and took a long sip. 

“I…might want that.” She said slowly “I ..I’ve been wondering if she’d be happy with me.” 

"I know she would, Athena. You've grown up to be a pretty amazing person. But if you want to hear it right from her, ask Pearl." He nodded, seriously. "But don't do it if you think it would just upset you more, okay?"

Athena flushed, smiling sheepishly up at him from her spot hunched over her coffee mug. “Thanks Boss… I really mean that.”

She nodded once. “...I’ll think about it. I’ve got a lot I wanna ask her…” she bit her lip “...Can I be honest, boss?” 

"Of course. I hope you'll be, Athena."

Athena ran her hand through her hair. 

“...Robert killed her in cold blood. He took her from everyone, and even if…even if I sometimes fought with her about the headphones or…or her work…she was a wonderful person.” Her fingers curled around her ponytail, tugging it fitfully. “I should hate him. Apollo clearly does. It’s what an average person should feel, right? Hurt and angry.” 

"I think that's a reaction that a lot of people would have, yes…" He gave her a soft, sympathetic look, and she could feel the concern for her radiating off him.

“I’m hurt…” she admitted, “I am. I miss her every day, and it hurts that she’s gone.” She looked down “but I’m not….I’m not angry at him. Even more than that, boss…I think I understand him.” 

"Well… you're a very empathetic person, Athena," Phoenix said gently. The concern for her didn't waver in any way. "If anyone could have empathy for someone like that, of course it would be you. And forgiveness is never a bad trait– as long as you don't let people take advantage of you."

Phoenix Wright was a good man. A good boss. He cared about Athena a lot, and Athena could feel that care and concern radiating through him. But he didn't understand why Athena felt the way she felt. Maybe of anyone Athena knew, Phoenix was the one who most often mistook her mask for her face.

He was a kind man, with a warm heart and a good head on his shoulders…but he couldn’t see the seams. She smiled in that bright and sunny way she’d practiced for years, and nodded.

“You’re right, boss! I’m not going to let anyone take advantage of me, I promise…I just…” She bit her lip. “I can’t be angry at someone who never had the chance to choose…anything.”

It was true. Beyond the empathy, beyond the strange mirror between their emotions, that was another of the looming reasons why that hung in her mind’s eye.

It was the reason she could count on Phoenix Wright to understand, even if he couldn’t understand the rest. 

Phoenix nodded. "When you put it that way, I can get it. But you're definitely a bigger person than a lot of us for extending that understanding to someone who hurt you that badly. I'll have to try to get on your level."

He chuckled and adjusted his tie, playing it off as if it were a joke, but she could tell that he was serious. He felt a little ashamed of his own lack of empathy.

Athena waved her hand. 

“Trust me, Boss. You don’t gotta,” she said, projecting bright cheer. “...people understand others in all sorts of ways. It’s not easy to forgive or understand someone who hurt you…most people wouldn’t.”

She closed her eyes with a smile “I’m just…a little different than most people. Not in any way better or worse…other people’s emotions are just much, much stronger to me.” 

Phoenix smiled warmly back. "Well, Athena, I guess if I have a problem that involves figuring out emotions, you're the first person I'll come to."

Athena snapped a salute, an unconscious mirror to the man she’d been spending far more time with the last few days than in the weeks past “You can count on me, boss!” 

[acertainmoshke]

Cold Iron Character Overviews Part 1

Shakatra Zoawin

Age: chronologically 107, biologically 33

Sexuality: demisexual

Pronouns: they/them

Physical appearance: purple-tinted skin, ears curved and pointed back, silver cat-like eyes. May or may not have horns. A number of scars from burns and cuts but mostly covered by clothes. Wears almost exclusively black sweatshirts and loose pants or long skirts, but does have some fancy flowy black clothes for impressing the Fae.

Backstory: a changeling switched for a human baby, and like most changelings was hated and abused. Unlike most, they survived to adulthood, long enough for the slowed aging and the powers to outmatch any human sorcerer. Never mind that their powers are instinctive and emotion-based and they struggle with control. Also autistic-coded. They spent most of the last century homeless between cities with no one to answer to but their brother and doing whatever they wanted, which was usually to beat up some Fae. They joined the human Veil Guard for a while, where they met their husband, but he's gone now. After he died, leaving them with his son as well as the daughter they acquired in the weirdest way possible, they decided to give up that life and retire—until the events of the book.

Kristoffer Zoawin

Age: chronologically 107, biologically 45

Sexuality: bisexual

Pronouns: he/him

Physical appearance: brown skin like acorn caps, void-black eyes, curly brown hair, abalone horns. Wears normal clothes, mostly jeans and button-ups or t-shirts, but enjoys tie-dying his clothes so often in very bright colors.

Backstory: Kris has no idea who he was when he was switched with a human infant because he was abandoned young. He grew up on the edge of a dangerous Wild Fae encampment until he was old enough to run away and take care of himself. Shaka was the first person to be kind to him and the one who taught him how to read and how to present so others saw him as a man. They were a team. He wasn't as adventurous, but rarely minded being dragged into the adventures. Still, he was relieved when they retired, exhausted by being in constant mortal danger. He has almost no glamour ability and never liked the feeling of magic so didn't develop that, preferring to fight physically. But he does have one extremely rare ability—he can reach out and speak with his mind or sometimes see into the minds of others.

Aaron Naktan

Age: chronologically 25, biologically 16

Sexuality: straight

Pronouns: he/they

Physical description: brown human-like skin except for its wavy texture, textured black hair kept short, brown velveteen antlers, multicolored eyes in impossible colors like purple and gold. Likes flannel shirts and basketball shorts.

Backstory: replaced a human child as an infant but, unlike Shaka and Kris, it was no accident that he survived. His human mother, Laurel, spent two years working to bargain with the Fae and get back her original child. But his human father, Jacob, insisted he had never known that boy and left to raise Aaron alone. He was kept away from iron and other dangers and with his father’s careful care he grew healthier. He was only 6 when Jacob married Shaka, at which point Cassie was older than him, which got weird later. He was only 11 when his father died and they left everything he’d ever known. He finished high school—his aging changed at 15, but an 18-year-old who looks 16-ish is not that noticeable. But now his old friends are all moving on from college and he’s still a teenager unsure what his future holds. Shaka never lets him fight. What else even is there? He is studying magic and much more organized about it than his parent. He also obsessively clings to the past with old notebooks and pictures. He journals constantly, afraid to miss a detail.

Cassandra Zoawin

Age: chronologically 107, biologically 10

Sexuality: unclear

Pronouns: she/her

Physical description: looks like any other human child, no Fae traits. Thick and curly blond-brown hair, brown eyes, pink skin with freckles. Tends to dress like a unicorn explosion: rainbow tutus, princess shirts, polka dot leggings, bright hair clips, glitter on her face.

Backstory: taken by the Fae as an infant and replaced with Shakatra. She has no idea how long her early childhood lasted, but at some point they gave her some food that froze her aging at 10. She was expected to be adult—graceful and elegant—while still looking and thinking like a child who longed to climb trees and swim. She spent most of her life as a mixture of servant and entertainer. She met Shaka several decades in and lived for their rare forays into the human world, making it an easy choice later between staying there forever and leaving with them. She struggles with being a child forever—crushes and friends soon outgrow her. She’s obsessed with slightly younger levels of color and chaos because she was never allowed that in Faerie. She is also unhappy she has no magic of her own and determined to learn to fight instead. Happiest when drawing.

Lynn Kanin

Age: 37

Sexuality: pansexual

Pronouns: she/her

Physical description: mixed-race; fairly pale with textured brown hair and dark brown eyes. Tall and thin and visibly trans, proudly out about it. Enjoys wearing makeup and stylish clothes but hands are noticeably callused from her bow.

Backstory: Lynn is completely human with no magical ability. She was born to a rural family of farmers and abused for being too effeminate until she was taken away at 8 and adopted by a pair of florists who also happened to be sorcerers. She was always jealous of the sorcerers around her, but she was a hard worker who did well in school and anything else she put her mind to. She's also autistic and struggled to connect with people throughout school and college, so learned to make connections physical instead. No one but her sister ever really got her. So she trained hard, became an architect who went around shooting at otherworldly creatures on the weekends. Life was...fine. And then she met Shaka during the book events, and for the first time since she was 8 felt a new real connection. It might be a dangerous one for her to to pursue, however.

General taglist: @blind-the-winds

[littlegodzilla]

Can you write daryl smut where the reader likes daryl but she thinks he didn't like her because there's an age gap and he's always quiet around her? Then one day she catches him touching himself while saying her name so she confesses her feelings and at first he's embarrassed/shy but the reader asks what he was thinking about and she does whatever he tells her to do.

Hi Anon!

Thanks for your request! Sorry if it took me so long!

I hope you'll like it!

Enjoy!!

Thinking about you.

Daryl Dixon (45) FemReader (25)

Anon Request.

Warnings: Smut. Handjob. Blowjob. Unprotected sex (don't do that).

Words: 3600

Taglist: @phoenixblack89 @browneyes528 @pncnsc @lilythemadqueen @darylsgarden @ruinedbythehobbit @srhxpci @xxtinasxxblog

You aren't sure why he hates you that much. You aren't sure what did you do. You try to think about something but your mind is blank.

You love Daryl.

Yeah maybe the word is too strong but is what you feel when you're around him. You feel yourself protected, safe, good. And all those feelings have been growing with the time you've spent together. Well not just with him, the group in general, but you know that what you feel for him is not a simple friendship.

You first met at the prison, you were part of Sasha and Tyreese's group and although you were initially welcomed, you stayed, Woodbury sounded ominous when Michonne showed up talking about the Governor. At first Daryl didn't trust, just like the others, as the days went by he seemed more comfortable, but you were also aware that he wouldn't let you make too much of an effort. Back then you were younger and 'frailer' than you are now, you were scared to death, you didn't know how to fight, you barely had the strength to help keep the prison fence up when the beams that held it up had to be repositioned, but you wanted to help, you always tried to be useful, even though you always ended up in your cell, with Beth, taking care of Judith.

"Go back inside." Daryl said to you one day taking some huge logs from your hands that you had managed to grab to help Rick build his farm. "They need ya more there, fix somethin' to eat, help Beth with the baby, keep an eye on Carl. Ya ain't helping us here."

This maybe have been the longest conversation you had with Daryl and it hurt. It hurt because you were trying to change and his cold, curt tone shattered your hopes. Since then you tried to stay away, alert, but distant, unfortunately his way of treating you didn't change your feelings for him. They grew stronger when the flu attacked you inside the prison and he took care of you.

"Ya can't die here." He told you by leaving you a bowl of soup in your cell, his mouth covered with a handkerchief so he wouldn't catch it.

You're not sure if he said it because he thought you wouldn't hear him because of your condition or that you would end up forgetting it, as an unimportant anecdote. When the prison fell and you were all separated for a moment you thought you would never see him or any of your companions again. You cried for days, heartbroken, until you were reunited again in Terminus, Carol had saved you and when you saw him embrace your companion like that, the pieces of your heart were not completely healed.

Now you live safely in Alexandria, you have settled in the community after Deanna has assessed whether or not you are useful to them that you can stay. Some of you have settled in well there, giving thanks for recovering some things lost from the previous world. Like hot water. But others are having a hard time accepting that this place is good, that you are safe.

Daryl is one of them.

He's constantly coming and going, he's still out hunting, he's still out exploring, he's still Rick's watchdog, and he doesn't trust the people in the community. If there was distance between you before, now a chasm has been created that you are sure you will never be able to cross.

You sigh long, tired, sorry. Carl looks at you curiously, the two of you on the porch of one of the houses the community has assigned you. You're taking care of Judith, that role hasn't changed much since you left the prison, only Beth is no longer with you to help you. Sometimes you miss her. You were good friends and her death was unjust. You know Daryl suffered a lot because of it too and sometimes you think he was in love with her, and that's why he stays away from you, because he doesn't want anything more to do with girls. Daryl needs a strong, determined woman, capable of protecting her own.

"You're more pensive than usual today." Carl's voice pulls you out of your thoughts and you smile sadly.

"Sorry, I'm having a weird day today..." You mutter looking at him out of the corner of your eye, playing with Judith who is amusing herself with your hands.

"Is it because Daryl isn't back yet?" he asks you and you feel your cheeks take on a rosy hue. "He's been on patrol for several days, but he'll be back. You know how he is."

"Y-yeah, I'm not worried, I don't..."

"I thought you liked him and were worried because he's not back yet." He says again and you look at him with wide eyes. You're thankful Judith is sitting on your lap or she would have fallen out of your arms.

"I-I didn't... Who told you that?"

"Carol, but I already knew that, you're always looking at him or asking about him." He says as if it's obvious and you want the ground swallow you up.

"Oh God, is it that obvious?" you groan low dead embarrassed.

"I don't know, I told my dad and he hadn't noticed, but Michonne said she already knew...so I guess it depends..."

You cover your face feeling it burns and Judith laughs clapping her hands, thinking you're playing with her.

"Do you think Daryl knows? God if he didn't hate me already..."

"Daryl? I don't think he hates you..." Carl lets out a chuckle and you look at him confused.

"What?"

"Nothing, I'm just saying what I see."

"Yeah, well I'm telling you he hates me, he doesn't look at me, he barely talks to me, and if he does it's to growl at me or tell me I've done something wrong. He's never treated me like..." You shut up because you feel a strange little ball of jealousy towards Carol forming in your stomach and you don't want it, you don't need it. She's your friend, your partner, almost like a mother.

"Trust me, if he didn't like you, you'd know it. Daryl doesn't know how to dissemble, he may be quiet and cold, but it's not because of you. At least not because of what you think."

The day passes quickly, you get home at night exhausted from the day, you may not go out on patrol like the rest, but you also have your own obligations within the community, watching and taking care of the children, as well as helping Denise in the infirmary. You open the door seeing it totally dark, there is no one there, or are with the changing of the guard or even some already sleeping. Sometimes it still feels strange to sleep in a bed, but today you really need one.

You are climbing the stairs, taking a shower and getting into bed, when you hear a groan that makes you stop in your tracks. You shiver keeping your wits about you, you doubt very much that it could be a threat, the community is well protected, the dead can't enter there undetected. You continue climbing and the new moan, or rather gasp, is accompanied by a stifled curse and you curse mentally, sure it is Rosita and Abraham. You try to ignore it, hurry down the hallway, get into your room and try to sleep, however when you pass the room the couple share, the door is open, they aren't there. You frown in confusion and another gasp reaches your ears. You open your eyes wide as you realize they are coming from Daryl's room.

Your cheeks burn suddenly, surprised and nervous, you want to get closer, you want to know if it's what you really think, maybe he's busy, maybe he's with some woman... Carol. A twinge in your chest makes you hesitate for a second, but your feet keep moving towards the hunter's door. Your hand brushes against the door and you block when you hear him speak again. Whimpering a name.

Your name.

You half open the door, Daryl is oblivious to your presence, sitting on the bed, his back against the wall, his head thrown back enjoying himself. Your body trembles, your legs clench and your panties soak as your gaze roams over his naked torso and how his hand moves urgently over his cock which is raised and hard, quivering each time his fist tightens over the tip of his length, his other hand squeezes and massages his balls ripping a new grunt from him.

"Fuck..."

Goosebumps rise on your skin as you hear your name again. Your heart races. You want to know what he's thinking. You want to know what he's imagining. Unable to control yourself any longer, you enter the room fully and Daryl finally senses your presence. His eyes widen, his hand releases his obvious erection, though it now loses some intensity as he discovers you there, he quickly tries to cover himself with a pillow as you advance towards him.

"What yer doin' 'ere?" asks Daryl in a nervous voice.

"Are you touching yourself thinking about me?" you reply, you know the answer is yes, but watching him swallow saliva several times you know it's not the first time. "Why?" you see him frown, lick his lips and look down, totally embarrassed and possibly humiliated. He's misunderstanding your question. You don't care on the contrary.

"S-Sorry, I didn't think anyone was..." Daryl stammers.

"You misunderstood me, why would you do that having me for real?" you ask again and his head jerks up in a hurry. "Is that why you avoid me all the time, you like me? At least you're physically attracted to me?"

It's too many awkward questions that you know Daryl is going to be unable to answer, if you weren't in his room, if you weren't cutting him off and he had his pants on, he would have possibly run away by now. He opens his mouth several times to respond, but falls silent, licks his lips, looks at you and looks away again, the light in his room is very soft, barely a candle, but you are sure that his face is red with embarrassment. You advance the few steps that separate you your leg brushes his and he jumps into his own skin when your fingers caress his thigh, leaning forward to look at him more intensely, biting your lip, wanting to hear his response.

"I always thought you hated me, you know? always avoiding me, growling and well sometimes you haven't been very nice either..."

"I'm sorry..." He says again pressing the pillow against his crotch.

"That's why this surprises me, but I'm glad... I'm glad to know that at least I'm not the only one who feels something." You smile again, her eyes grow much wider and you laugh softly, now it's your face that's red. "You don't look at me like that, I'm sure you knew that..."

He says nothing, but his silence is enough for you.

"What were you imagining?" you say to him again. "What would you like to do with me, Daryl?" your voice sounds insinuating, your pupils dilate a little and you bite your lip again. "What would you like me to do for you?"

He can't answer, his words get stuck in his throat, but you get excited every time his eyes roam over your body. Clearly there are many ideas in his mind, but he is unable to express them out loud. Without waiting for him to say anything, you get rid of your shirt, remaining in your bra in front of him. His breathing becomes heavier and you see him licking his lips.

"Ya ain't gotta... ya ain't gotta do this if ya ain't..."

"Daryl, I've been feeling this for you for many years, I'm not feeling obligated to anything, on the contrary, I want the two of us to be honest with each other. If this is what we desire..." You kneel on the mattress beside him, his gaze follows your every move and he does nothing when you pull the pillow away from his crotch to look at him again. His erection has clearly declined, but his size gets you soaking your panties again. "Tell me what you want me to do, Daryl..." You stare at him and he finally seems to react, his pupils dilate, his eyes take on a dark hue and you hear him grunt.

You rest a hand on his chest and lean into him to kiss him. You've barely brushed his lips when his hand clings to the back of your neck and his mouth catches you. His fingers tangle in your hair preventing you from being able to pull away, the kiss grows more intense and Daryl sits up a little on the bed taking control. You gasp against his mouth, his tongue bursts inside, the two of you entangle and he holds you by the waist to sit on his lap. You move your hips, your ass rubbing his cock that hardens again with each rub. You pull away from his mouth and bite down on his chin staring up at him.

"Tell me, Daryl... what were you thinking?"

"Yer mouth..." He whispers still embarrassed, but he's horny too, he's been about to cum just as you've entered his room and now his cock is screaming for attention again.

"My mouth? Do you want me to suck your cock?" you smile as he nods and you let him lie back as you slide down his body.

Slowly, you kiss his neck, his torso, run your fingers and lips over his scars, feel him tense as you bite the skin near his navel and smile in amusement. You circle his cock in your hand slowly caressing its size, watching, biting your lip, how it acquires all its hardness against the palm of your hand, slightly curved, thick tip that begins to leak a trickle of precum. Your tongue brushes against his glans and you hear him sigh, you look up, but don't stop, your lips tighten around his tip, you suck and lick slowly, like candy, Daryl stirs under your body, his hand strokes your hair, you run along its length, as much as you are able to take inside your mouth, you suck and lick, up and down, slowly, taking a comfortable rhythm, holding the gag reflex, your tongue runs all over him, a wet smutty sound with each movement makes Daryl's hair stand on end and his fingers twitch above your head. You feel a small tug on your hair and you stop slowly thinking Daryl wants you to stop, but instead his hips move upward, thrusting against your mouth.

You don't stop him, you relax and still tightening your lips around his cock you let him move his hips up and down, thrusting deep in your throat listening to him gasp and mumble incoherent things, you would love to be able to get inside his mind and find out what he is thinking.

"Fuck... I'm gonna cum..." He assures you and his hips jerk a little roughly in your mouth.

You stifle a gag, but let him release, he moves faster inside your mouth, you feel the tip of his cock slide deeper, and you close your eyes as he spills into your mouth hearing him snort moving his hips slower, you swallow his cum, run your tongue down his length to the tip and suck one last time before pulling away completely and looking up at him with a mischievous grin. Daryl joins in too, he seems more confident now, he holds your cheeks kissing you intensely but calmly, you open your mouth and brush your tongue over his, giving him a taste of himself. Daryl pulls away, his fingers playing and stroking the strands of your hair as he stares at you and bites his lower lip. You smile and kiss him again giving him cause to relax with you.

"I'm here for you, Daryl...you can do with me whatever you want."

"That...could be anything..." He murmurs without taking his eyes off you.

"I trust you, Daryl." You tell him without looking away either.

"Why? I've never treated ya right, I've always been rough with ya... tryin' to get ya away from me, because when ya were around..." He chews his lip several times.

"What was wrong when I was around, Daryl?" You move a little closer, brushing his lips with yours.

"That I can't control myself, and yer so young..."

"That doesn't matter, Daryl, it never has mattered, it doesn't matter to me... Why should it matter to you?"

He closes his eyes for a second, thinking about it, your words echoing in his ears giving him a chance to hold on to. He growls lightly and kisses you again, intense, eagerly, he lays your body down on his bed and his hands undo the button of your pants slowly pulling it down your legs, undressing you completely. You sigh as you find yourself totally exposed to him, you smile shyly, but at the same time you are eager for him to continue. You feel his lips on your knee and he settles between your legs, his mouth runs over your skin from your stomach to your nipples, he licks and grazes one of them with the tip of his tongue before catching it between his lips and sucking harder drawing a moan of pleasure from you.

"Y'know what... I love when I see ya in yer yellow dress." He whispers suddenly and you look at him in surprise. "Ya always wear it without a bra, no one notices, but sometimes, when yer happy or excited, yer nipples get hard and mark on the fabric." His voice sounds like a husky purr against your ear and your skin crawls, you feel your wetness rise and you try to squeeze your legs together, but Daryl's body between them stops you. "I've always wanted to know what yer skin tasted like, what it smelled like, what it would feel like in my mouth..." He kisses you again before moving down your neck, his mouth lingering on your nipples again, licking your skin until they're completely hard.

You inhale deeply throwing your head back, you bite your lip and moan when he sinks his head between your legs licking your pussy, sucking your clit, he runs his tongue along your folds, with the tip he pushes inside you, tasting your insides, you moan and spread your legs further apart enjoying the pleasure he is giving you. Daryl focuses his mouth on your clit, licking and torturing your sensitive nub as two of his fingers work their way inside your cunt. You wiggle your hips against his fingers and bite your lip controlling your moans. Your fingers tangle in his hair each time his tongue and fingers move in your pussy putting you on edge, crawling into that wave of pleasure that explodes all over your body, you pull on his hair and tighten your legs around his head. You feel Daryl purr again against your folds tasting you again before he slowly joins in kissing your body, moving up to your mouth to kiss you. You wrap your arms around his neck to hold him against you, both of you kissing with desire, with need, your bodies rubbing together and you moan as you feel his cock hard again, leaving a wet trickle against your skin.

"Daryl, I need you..."

"C'me 're." He grunts and rolls with you, putting you on top of him. "Ride me, show me how ya enjoy my cock, I wanna see yer tits bouncing." Daryl indulges in his own fantasies and his mouth gets a little dirty, but you don't mind, on the contrary, your pussy contracts and you get wetter if possible.

On top of him you position yourself nicely, rubbing your pussy against his cock, moving your hips without taking your eyes off him, just groping him. You lift your hips, Daryl holds the base of his cock as you carefully sit down on it, feeling his pressure on your core, pushing his way in, your walls receive him by tightening around him and you both moan at the same time as his entire length is wedged inside you. Your body trembles, your skin goes goosebumps, your fingers caress his chest and abdomen, you can feel his fingers closing over your hips, his hands caress your skin, your ass, your lower back, they go up to your tits and he squeezes them between his fingers. You moan and move your hips slowly over him, watching his reaction, realizing his fantasy.

"Fuck... so tight... so good, girl..." He mumbles grapping your tits again.

Slowly you increase the speed on him, Daryl stays mesmerized with the movement of your tits every time you bounce on him, however he feels he is not going to hold on much longer so he holds your hips and starts to thrust under you, your bodies meet, his cock pushes deeper, you throw your head back and moan he hits that perfect spot that makes you shudder.

"I'm gonna cum..." He warns you but neither of you stop.

Daryl joins in hugging you, moving you faster, trapping his cock inside you. You both let go almost at the same time, your body trembling against his, Daryl rests his forehead on your shoulder as he empties himself inside you.

Panting, trying to catch your breath, the two of you remain in each other's arms. You wrap your arms around his shoulders as before and lazily stroke his hair, hear him humming with your caresses, kiss his shoulder and neck, his hands caress your lower back.

"Yer okay?" asks Daryl in a breathy whisper.

"Better than ever." You laugh softly and pull away a little to look at him. "I don't know if this will be just a one night stand, but... I want you to stop ignoring me, to consider me a friend... please." You ask and see him look at you with intensity before shaking his head.

"It ain't just one night... Now that I have ya... I'm ain't gonna let you go." He confesses and a shy smile forms on his mouth. You feel your eyes water, excited and you kiss him.

"I love you..." You whisper against his mouth and his hands tighten in your embrace.

"Me too, girl..."

The End.

I hope you liked it!! Finally it had more fluff than I pretended at first 🤣

See you in the next stories!!

[spoiler1001]

Theory? feel free to reblog with counterarguments.

I'm not saying that it was Just Grue's death that sent Dante into a spiral, but Imagine if the dmc1 novel takes place after dmc3, which I think it does, considering the last page is just the opening to dmc1.

Dante would have gone as Tony from the DMC3 manga to DMC1, explaining both him telling Enzo to shut the fuck up when the guy called him 'Dante' and the look and way his voice drops when Arkham called him 'Dante'. It would also explain his transition from the usual jobs to strictly supernatural jobs. the other mercenaries simply can't do it, excluding those in the know.

Seeing as Vergil opened the gate to hell, I could see a whole 'monster hunting' business booming, building the town around them. You have to remember, Nero's generation is the first one after the last big battle between the human world and the demon world. DMC is could have very easily been post-apocalyptic, but I'll argue that's why some of the older forms of technology stayed around, durable, and full of redundancies, if one form of communication gives out, there are others. That's not to mention the ease of repair. That's probably why Nico's van is like that.

In this logic and timeline Dante's life would be like this:

Mom, Dad, Vergil-> Mom, Vergil-> Mom, Dad, Vergil gone-> change name-> Grow up with Enzo, Nell, and Morrison protecting him -> Get shop, home-> Vergil back-> Vergil gone again-> meet Grue-> Have family again-> lose family again-> change name back-> be unable to kill the thing that keeps killing family, can only lock it away-> make friends-> friends in and out of life-> get nephew? get nephew-> Vergil's back again

This poor man.

and from "Lose family again" onwards he is essentially paying child support for Grue's surviving kids. Making sure they were not left behind like Vergil was. Eventually, Morrison got them jobs that allowed them to buy the Bar that their father loved, mirroring Dante in a way. By now I'm assuming about 15 years passed since their father and sister, Jessica, died, yet they were protected with the truth that demons and monsters are why their family broke up.

These girls would be about 21-25, filling the age gap between Patty and Nero, so still being part of that new generation. Morrison still plans to keep it that way, given that look he gives V. In Morrison's defense, V was giving off Gilver vibes from the first goddamn trailer and he's not gonna let family history repeat himself.

It should be noted that the youngest of Grue's daughters, Nesty, is probably too young to remember when Tony was part of their family and doesn't get that Tony loved them and blames Dante for everything, while the middle oldest daughter, Tiki, does remember Tony and knows he didn't break the family.

So Dante/Tony has a lot of people going in and out of his life, usually very bloodily. This man live 3 lifetimes in the span of 45 years. So while I do not think that the deaths of Grue and Jessica are what solely broke Dante, If you add Mundas 'killing' his brother and Trish again, I'd say that did, especially if we include the fact that Dante could not kill Mundus at the time and he could break free at a moment's notice, which could play into why Dante jumped into hell because "I've lost my family 3 goddamn times I've reached my goddamn limit."

[megurodivision]

"You can't live a positive life with a negative mind."

Timeline

Age 0:

Yeong is born the only child to Namgung Cain & Okabe Cain in Korea.

Age 5:

He is taught by his parents on how to conduct himself, not only in public, but in private.

Age 7:

Begins to grow disillusioned with his parents' way of life.

Age 8:

Asks his parents if he could learn martial arts, but is refused.

Age 12:

Again asks for permission from his parents to learn martial arts, but is again refused.

Threatens to leave his household if his parents don't let him learn how to fight.

His parents eventually relent.

Age 14:

Gradually takes to Taekwondo.

Learns the game of Go from his master, Dong Hajoon.

Age 15:

Is considered by his master to take over the school from him.

However, he is passed over due to his Cain family name.

Age 16:

Graduates high school, earning a doctorate.

Informs his parents about his decision to leave the family house.

Changes his last name from "Cain" to "Hajoon", honoring his former master.

Age 18:

Spends his time in Korea, indulging himself.

He enters many tournaments (both fighting and Go), and though he doesn't always win, it helps to get his name out there.

Age 20:

Decides to join █████████.

Though he is skilled, he annoys his fellow soldiers and officers.

Eventually meets LeAnn Chambers, his senior officer. The two get off to a bad start.

Age 21:

He and LeAnn reconcile after he ██████████████████. He makes her promise to go on a date with him.

Age 22:

LeAnn, for some reason, goes AWOL, shocking Yeong.

He flies to Japan after her to find out what happened.

Age 23:

Decides to become a bouncer as a cover while monitoring LeAnn's movements.

Gets a body tattoo from Vito Koi to help him blend in.

His Korean look attracts a modeling studio, who asks him to model for them. He agrees.

He becomes famous, meeting other celebrities.

Age 24:

Decides to start up a small dance studio after seeing some kids breakdancing in the street.

Meets Saji, a fellow bouncer, who challenges Vito to a fight.

Age 25:

Present.

Joins Meguro Division rap battle group, DOG STREET CLUB, alongside Saji Buranka and Vito Koi.

Schedule

12 a.m. - 5 a.m.: At work

5 a.m. - 5:30 a.m.: Walks back home

5:30 a.m. - 9 a.m.: Asleep

9 a.m. - 10 a.m.: Freshens up

10 a.m. - 10:15 a.m.: Heads to modeling studio

10:15 a.m. - 1:30 p.m.: Modeling

1:30 p.m. - 2:30 p.m.: Eats lunch

2:30 p.m. - 2:45 p.m.: Heads to dance studio

2:45 p.m. - 5 p.m.: Teaches dancing

5 p.m. - 5:30 p.m.: Heads back home

5:30 p.m. - 6 p.m.: Practices Taekwondo

6 p.m. - 7 p.m.: Freshens up and readies self for work

7 p.m. - 7:30 p.m.: Heads to bar or nightclub

7:30 p.m. - 9 p.m.: Plays Go with Saji & Vito until shift starts

9 p.m. - 12 a.m.: At work

Character Hashtags

Regular Hashtags

#Taekwondo master

#Living life freely

#Overnight celebrity

Trauma Hashtags

#Prisoner of family name

#What about our date?

#Friends or orders?

Other Info

Hobby: Playing Go

Weakness: Has too many secrets

Trauma: "I'm between a rock and a hard place."

Twitter: @GoTaekwondo!

Drinks: Yes

Smokes: No

Special Skill: "I'm a master at Go! I've yet to find anyone in this country who can beat me!"

Intro Quote: "The name's Yeong Hajoon. The pleasure is all mine."

Trauma Quote: "Orders are orders, but... can I really just betray my friends like this?"

[gohyuck]

prologue | part 1 | part 2 | part 3

pairing: greaser!jeno lee x rich!reader; part of a collab by @neovisioned​

genre: greaser!au; runaways!au; criminal!au; angst/fluff/smut

word count: 10.4k

warnings: infidelity, miscarriages of justice, johnny’s a huge asshole in this i’m so sorry, a lot of straight up classism, explicit mentions of sex (fingering), vehicular manslaughter, armed robbery, general unarmed violence and fighting, pistol-whipping

a/n: so i know a lot of people loved the fact that my most recent long fic (surgeon jaemin!) focused on side characters, but i’ve made this fic pretty jeno-centric on purpose, and i hope it’s still as enjoyable as possible for readers! 

May 29, 1957

He’s always been easy on the eyes. 

It’s shallow, and a great part of him knows it. Still, as far back as he can remember, Jeno’s always had one thing, and one thing only: his looks. When he was 7 and starving on the streets, terrified of going back to a broken, lifeless home, he’d use his adorable face to elicit pity and pizza from the aging man who ran the local diner. When he was 15 and growing into himself, his blossoming attractiveness got the girl in his geometry class to give him her homework to copy off of, free of charge. When he’d first started working at the garage, a high school dropout at the age of 17, it was his ‘rugged handsomeness’ - review courtesy of the college girls who trailed their rich boyfriends as they searched for cheap fueling and car repairs - that called in tips by the handful. 

Jeno’s always had his looks. That’s why, even though he thinks it’s silly of him, he can’t help but look at you with eyes that are overflowing with apprehension. He grips the blond hair-dye just a little too tightly, fingers making what’ll be lasting indents in the plastic box. 

“Do I really have to do this?”

You arch an eyebrow, wrenching the dye out of his iron-grip as you do. Jeno watches, feeling more helpless than he has been this whole time as you shake its contents out into your hand. The bleach and the agent you mix it with fall into your open palm, followed by the barely darker dye. You read the instructions over once, twice, before finally looking up to meet Jeno’s trained gaze. 

It’s all you can do to heave a heavy sigh.

“You were framed for a robbery, and then you stole a car and accidentally kidnapped me, but the hill you choose to die on is dyeing your hair? Really? If you’re like this now, what are you going to do when we get tattooed?”

“I - We - Tattoos?” Jeno squawks, and you can’t help but sigh again before rolling your eyes. 

It’s going to be a long night. Amidst it all, you can’t help but think back to how everything started.

As Jeno keeps his glare trained on the dye, you can’t help but assume that he’s doing the same. 

♕ ♕ ♕

Day One: May 25, 1957

Cherry red lips, wanton giggles, a skirt that’s too short, even by what she calls her ‘very own tramp standards’. Jeno can’t get enough of it all - can’t get enough of her, he’s so intoxicated by her. It’s in the way her head falls back, her mouth falls open, her knees fall down, allowing her legs to fall wide. He leans over her, his well muscled arms making it easy to hover instead of collapse on top of her as he coaxes her release from her, two fingers deep in her spasming cunt while his thumb works away at her clit. Jeno’s close - so close - to what he wants, but he doesn’t dare to chase after it; instead of pressing his lips to hers and tasting that enticing lipstick for himself, he settles for pressing his forehead against hers, letting his soft breath land against the silent scream her mouth is currently displaying. 

Her chest heaves, her next breaths come out in gasps. As she settles down, Jeno can’t keep himself from dipping his head down, pressing a gentle and completely chaste kiss against the skin of her stomach between her belly-button and her underwear line. She squirms at the feeling of his warm lips against her now-hot skin, and he chuckles against her body before pulling away for good, though not before wiping his fingers on her thigh. 

“‘S that good, Jess?” He quirks an eyebrow, pulling a handkerchief from his back pocket for her to wipe the sweat across her forehead with. “There’s grease on that s- yeah, that’s the good side.”

“You sure know how to charm a girl, Jeno Lee,” The woman responds dryly, though he doesn’t miss the pleased smirk that crosses her features. She swipes at her inner thighs once before tossing the handkerchief - or, really, rag - at the mechanic, who catches it with ease and stuffs it back where it came from. 

“You’re the one who wanted to be fingered in the passenger seat of Johnny Suh’s car, filthy girl,” Jeno throws back, not surprised when Jess swats at his arm at the mention of her boyfriend. She loves Johnny, Jeno knows she does, but that doesn’t stop her from begging for Jeno’s fingers or tongue or, if she’s got time, his dick, whenever she stops by the City Motors garage that Jeno’s been employed at for the past two months. She always comes in driving Johnny’s red Chevy Bel Air convertible. He knows it’s bad of her and bad for him, especially if Johnny ever gets wind of it, but he can’t find it in himself to stop, not when it’s free spank bank material. 

Jeno’s probably a bad person for it. He doesn’t really care - after all, it’s just sex. If emotions were involved - and they never are, not for Jeno, not when it comes to getting his dick wet - it might be a different story. That, and it’s Johnny Suh’s girl. 

Jeno fucking hates Johnny Suh. 

“Say, speaking of John,” Jess says, seemingly sufficiently cooled down by now. “I keep meaning to and forgetting to ask - you’re the same age as his sister, aren’t you?” 

“(Name)?” Jeno asks, his brow furrowing when he gets a nod of confirmation. “Yeah, I mean, we were in the same homeroom and shit this past year. Why?”

“Just curious. You’ll probably see her a lot more often from now on, honestly - she got a job at the diner when they had that hiring spree last week.” Jess flicks her head vaguely towards Jeno, and he knows it’s because, if he turns around and looks out the window, he’ll be staring directly at Kim’s, what can be considered the only good eatery on this side of town. He tries his best to seem even vaguely interested at what Jess is saying - going so far as to crane his neck backwards in order to look at the same diner he sees day in and day out - but she calls his bluff easily. Instead of saying anything, she just rolls her neck out before finally shoving the car door open.

“Say ‘hi’ to her sometimes, y’know?” She asks, peering in once she’s standing. “For me. Forget that she’s a Suh sometimes. She needs to talk to more people, anyways.” Jess states, her gaze imploring. Still, Jeno can’t help but scoff at the last thing she says, prompting an affronted look from the woman who’s looking expectantly at him. 

“(Name)? Needing to talk to more people? Everyone adores her, she’s always with some new person getting into some bullshit. Honestly, she probably needs to talk to less people at this point.” Jeno explains himself so as to not garner anymore adversity from his fuckbuddy, though the way he squints in mild disbelief at Jess’ suggestion annoys her anyways. The mild petulance that comes through only serves to remind Jess that Jeno is, in fact, only 19 - and while her being 21 doesn’t change their dynamic much, it does bring about some slight difference in maturity. 

She tends to overlook it because the benefits seem to outweigh the detractors.

As Jess makes eye contact with Jeno, though, she knows he won’t listen to her friendly suggestion. She doesn’t know why she bothers, sometimes - even though she’s only in it for the sex, he’s really only in it for the sex. As far as anyone’s concerned, Jeno Lee does only two things, and he does them well: fix cars and fuck. Considering that he’s a high school drop-out with no plans of college or trade school, Jess supposes that he doesn’t have much else to do. 

“Whatever,” She finally acquiesces, not bothering to return the small smirk Jeno throws at her. “What’s the time?”

“It’s about 4:45,” The mechanic responds without even checking his wristwatch, though Jess doesn’t doubt that he’s right. “What time’s he coming by for his car again?”

“Couple minutes past 5. Got a smoke? I need one.” Jess is still peering into the car from outside, her expression making it seem like she’s waiting for something more than a quick cigarette break. Jeno holds her gaze steady for a beat, two beats, before he breaks away, pushing the door open on his side so he can finally get out too. After all, the car is honestly kind of cramped, and absolutely not ideal for what they’ve been getting up to in it… week after week after week. 

“You should tell your boyfriend to stop fucking up his car,” Jeno states simply, leaning over the fabric top of Johnny’s convertible. It’d been the left sideview mirror today, the transmission last week, the rims the week before. It wouldn’t surprise Jeno if Jess drives in four days from now with a crack in the windshield and her underwear already around her knees. Jess says nothing, only leveling Jeno’s stare. He waits, finally breaking it for the second time in a row once he’s sure she’s sweating a little bit in her new boots. The small smirk he allows himself as he beckons for her to follow him back into the garage is reward enough for him. There’s a pack of Camels set on his work bench, open in such a way that Jeno knows Jaemin must’ve taken one earlier when they’d started their shift together. 

“Help yourself, doll.” Jeno says, gesturing vaguely towards it after pulling a cigarette out for himself. He swipes the lighter off of Jaemin’s desk - his friend’s on a late lunch break at the diner right now anyways - and uses it to light up his own smoke before tossing it underhandedly to Jess. 

“Don’t ‘doll’ me,” She scoffs, her words muffled around the cigarette that’s now in between her lips. He admires her hands, her nimble red-tipped fingers as she lights it up, pulling it out from her mouth and letting it dangle between two fingers before setting the lighter down on top of the pack. “You know only Johnny’s allowed to call me that.”

“If he had that much of a handle on you, you wouldn’t be crying for my cock every week now, would you?”

“I don’t cry,” Jess protests, and Jeno finds both her sudden indignance, and the fact that this is the hill she chooses to die on, kind of cute. He has no feelings toward her, sure, but it doesn’t mean he can’t admire her for what she is: art. And someone’s gotta nail masterpieces against walls, right?

“You get the gist.” Jeno brushes her complaint aside with ease, blowing smoke out through one corner of his mouth before he speaks. “Tell him to watch where he parks so he doesn’t screw up his mirrors again. There’s gotta be some limit on daddy’s money.”

“Why don’t you tell him yourself?” Jess throws back, and Jeno can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes.

“His highness won’t talk to a lowly greaser like me, obviously. Probably thinks I spend all my tip money on hair oil or some stupid shit. You really picked one for yourself, Jess. Outdid yourself on the asshattery of the last one. The fact that he makes you drop his car off when he’s the one who screws it up should be a red flag itself.” Even talking about Johnny has a pit of dread growing in the bottom of Jeno’s stomach, and he drops his half-smoked cigarette to the ground before crushing it under his work boots. He knows it isn’t the cig making him feel sick, but he suddenly has no appetite left for nicotine anymore. 

“You’re lucky our friendship predates my relationship, or I’d fuck you up for saying shit like that,” Jess warns, though there’s no real bite behind her bark. She drops her cigarette to the ground too, and Jeno steps on it so she doesn’t have to. 

“Can’t believe you’re deciding to keep some kind of allegiance to me based solely on the fact that our moms used to stick us together when they went to whore around downtown while our dads were being drunken good-for-nothings somewhere or the other,” Jeno scoffs in faux disbelief even as his eyes fold into half moons. Jess allows herself a small grin at the expense of their younger selves as well. They both know better than anyone that shared traumas can only make bonds stronger. “When’ll you tell your prissy, pompous, prick of a partner that you’re one of the lowlifes he hates so much?”

“He already knows that I wasn’t… well off before I got my job at the salon,” Jess replies carefully, doing her best not to incriminate her boyfriend in the eyes of someone who already loathes him. “Besides, he honestly isn’t that bad. He says shit sometimes, yeah, but he knocks it off if I tell him to. Shouldn’t affect whether or not you talk to (Name), anyways.”

Jess slips you into the conversation so easily that it almost gives Jeno whiplash trying to process what she’s said. When he’s done, it’s all he can do but to let out a confused query.

“The hell does (Name) have to do with this?”

“I mean, you’re the same age, and you kind of know each other. I just figured that...”

Suddenly, Jess’ motives dawn on Jeno. Judging by the way she trails off, ending her sentence both sheepishly and abruptly, she sees that he’s figured her out, too.

“Are you fucking trying to set me up with your scummy boyfriend’s sister?”

“He isn’t scummy! And, I mean, not necessarily. Maybe. Just a little, but come on! Isn’t it right for me to want two people I love and care for to find love and caring in each other?” Jess’ words come out harried, and she flaps her arms around a bit to try and prove the point she just can’t seem to hit on. Jeno’s brows furrow even more, and he can’t help his incredulous snicker.

“You, Miss ‘I just got fingered by a childhood friend in my boyfriend’s car for what has to be, like, the sixth time in four weeks’, want to talk about what’s right and what’s not?” Jeno points out, and Jess winces slightly. He knows it’s a bit of a low blow - yes, Jess is a cheater, and it’s completely terrible of her, and maybe even Johnny Suh deserves better than someone who’s unfaithful, but if Jess is the one committing the crime then Jeno’s aiding and abetting. He can see the hurt flash across his friend’s features, and he allows himself to soften for a moment before speaking again. “I’m sure (Name) is nice and all, but I’m not looking for a relationship right now. If I was, I wouldn’t be messing around with you, or anyone for that matter.”

Jess sighs, but it’s a sigh of acceptance. She glances down wistfully at the smushed cigarette she’d abandoned earlier, making no move to get another one. Jeno assumes she’s trying to cut back - the cost of a pack has gone up again. 

“I do love him, you know that, right?” Jess says, voice soft and sincere in a way that has Jeno’s eyes flicking up to meet her own. “I just - I can’t give all of myself to him, you know? Not yet, anyways. Not after everything that’s happened in my life. It isn’t justification, it’s just…”

“You’ve been dealt so many bad hands that you don’t know how to play poker anymore,” Jeno finishes, smiling gently at his friend. “Yeah, I get it. I’m just your pain relief, remember? You don’t have to explain yourself to me. Fuck first, friends later.”

“Pretty sure it’s the other way around,” Jess rolls her eyes, though she knows he’s just messing with her. They might use each other, but their friendship predates any sexual relationships either of them have been having with anyone. They both know that Jess doesn’t just drop by the garage to drop her panties, although that is what happens first and foremost every time. 

Before Jeno can quip back at her, the telltale thrum of a car’s engine draws his attention away from his friend. Both of them turn their heads simultaneously to see none other than Yuta Nakamoto pull up in his Thunderbird, Johnny Suh riding shotgun beside him. Jeno doesn’t miss the way Jess perks up, her grin dazzling as she spots her boyfriend. He can’t say the same for himself, not when his stomach drops at the sight of the two men. 

Yuta at least has the ‘decency’ to shoot Jeno a patronizing smirk. Johnny doesn’t even acknowledge the man beside his girlfriend, instead turning directly to appraise his fixed up car after giving Jess a quick peck on the cheek. 

“Funny,” Johnny remarks thoughtfully once he’s done with his once-over. “Are you sure you fixed this? It doesn’t reek of grease or anything. Maybe you underdid your hair today, kid, hmm?” 

Jeno’s suddenly hyper-aware of how slicked back his pitch black hair is, and his fingers twitch at how badly he wants to push it back again, both out of nervousness and anger. He says nothing, only clenching his jaw in response.

“Leave him be, John,” Jess speaks up, holding her hand out for her boyfriend to take. He grabs it naturally. “He’s a good kid.”

Johnny’s cocky, holier-than-thou grin slips a little at seeing his girl - his girl - defend someone he equates to the bottom of his shoe, and Jeno notices it. For a moment, it seems like there’s a rebuttal sitting on the tip of his tongue. His necessity to keep his girlfriend’s approval wins him over, though, and Johnny says nothing more, only asking Jess to hand him the key he knows she has. 

Yuta leaves first, though not before confirming their next whereabouts with Johnny. He slides back into the drivers’ seat of his Thunderbird, raises his eyebrow at Jeno through the windshield, and backs out slowly but surely. Jeno isn’t a big fan of Yuta, either, but at least the man respects his car.

The same can’t be said for Johnny. 

He slams the passengers’ side door shut once Jess gets in, and Jeno can’t help the wince he gives at the noise. In that moment, he feels deeply for the Bel Air, wishing he could jailbreak it from the hell it must be experiencing at the Suh household. Right before Johnny gets into the driver’s seat, he stops, eyes flitting towards Jeno as he digs something out of his pockets. 

Jeno watches as Johnny flicks a dime into the open tip jar they leave out on a rickety old stool, stands there and takes it as the older man shoots him the kind of wolffish grin that never reaches anyone’s eyes. 

“Buy yourself something nice,” Johnny says, smirking as he looks Jeno up and down. He takes in the peeling leather on the greaser’s workboots, the grease stains on his blue jeans, the way his white tank top is soaked through with sweat, his ratty leather jacket lying across his workbench. When he looks back up, eyes meeting Jeno’s, the latter can’t help but feel as if he’s just been searched.

“At least… if you even know what ‘nice’ means.” Johnny finally finishes, smirking maddeningly at Jeno. Before any rebuttal can be made, Johnny’s inside his car and turning on the ignition. Jess waves goodbye to Jeno, albeit sheepishly, who only raises a hand in parting. It’s only after they’ve disappeared, tearing down Central Street, that Jeno registers Jaemin leaning against the corner of the garage. It’s evident by the way his friend is standing that he hadn’t actually witnessed anything, and Jeno finds that he wants to keep his interactions to himself today. It’s also evident that, while Jeno has nothing to tell Jaemin, the opposite does not stand true.

“What’s up?” Jeno asks, picking up and tossing the Camels at Jaemin on what is, by this point, sheer muscle memory. He throws the lighter right after, and Jaemin catches them both with ease. This is unsurprising - before school, life, and work all became too hard to balance, Jaemin had been a catcher on the local high school baseball team. 

“There’s a new broad behind the counter at Kim’s,” Jaemin says, sticking the cigarette in his mouth and lighting it as he speaks, all with the kind of finesse that only comes from years of doing the same thing. “Looks familiar, ’m sure I’ve seen her before - pro’ly went to school together. Damn pretty, looks more your type than mine, though.”

Jeno doesn’t really care, frankly, but it’s Jaemin and he’ll always humor Jaemin. That, and they’ve got about an hour ‘til the next person with an appointment comes in, so he’s got some time to kill. 

“You wouldn’t know if you went to school with her, considering you only ever fuckin’ showed up to play ball. I don’t think I ever saw you in class.” Jeno scoffs, though he knows he should probably keep speaking when Jaemin throws him a scathing glare. “How can you be so sure that she’s my type?”

Jaemin takes the cigarette out of his mouth, waving it around aimlessly as he finally walks over to his own workbench, right beside Jeno’s. He’s got a couple of chairs beside it, and he shoves one towards Jeno before sitting down himself. Jeno, for his part, swings his chair around so he can sit down backwards as he faces Jaemin, folding his arms over the back of it and resting his chin on top of his forearm. Once they’re both situated, Jaemin finally speaks again.

“Pretty, but doesn’t remind me of any of the greaser girls or the rich girls, somehow. Guess she doesn’t fit in that way. Smart, either talks animatedly or doesn’t say shit at all. Seemed all bright-eyed but with sum’n dark behind them. Mysterious, just a bit. Paint a good enough picture for you, asshole?” Jaemin good-naturedly flicks some ash towards his friend, drawing forth a chuckle from the other man. 

“Sounds like you’re describin’ a book character,” Jeno throws back, causing Jaemin to roll his eyes even as he’s genuinely smiling. “Been spending too much time with Mark.”

“Maybe so,” Jaemin acquiesces, leaning forward in his chair to look Jeno in the eyes. He turns his head to the side, blowing smoke out through his lips before looking back. “Doesn’t change the fact that she’s good for you. Really, I think you two could hit it off. Even got her number for you.”

“You’re that desperate to pawn me off, huh?” Jeno raises an eyebrow, though he holds out his hand for Jaemin to drop a slightly-crumpled napkin into. He might not go for whatever girl it is romantically, but it might be good to go on a date or two just to keep himself from getting too rusty with the girls. That, and he has to admit that sitting at home, tinkering with the house’s clocks or yelling at Donghyuck not to use up all the hot water for the week is less appealing than having a nice night out (or a nice night in, depending on the girl). He supposes he’s mildly optimistic as he unfolds the napkin, even allowing himself a small grin at the idea of doing something outside of his ordinary, everyday, work to home to work to home life.

Jeno’s smile fades fast once he sees what’s scrawled messily on the napkin in black ink. 

(Name) Suh

XXX-XXX-XXXX ;)

He blinks once, blinks twice, before letting out a groan and allowing his head to drop onto the wood of the chair’s back. Jaemin, concerned, asks if he’s alright, but Jeno just ignores him, too busy wallowing in the cosmic irony of his best friend giving him the number of the one girl he would never get with. 

“Is this about the chick or is it something else? I saw Johnny Suh pull out of here, that motherfucker. If he wasn’t giving us so much business all the time I would’ve TP’ed his house by now. Is it him? Don’t let him get to you-”

“Jaemin,” Jeno interrupts his best friend, finally looking up from his reprieve in the chair. Jaemin quits rambling almost immediately, his gaze running over Jeno’s unreadable expression. Jeno looks down at the note, up at Jaemin, and then back down at your handwriting again before letting out a weighty, long-suffering sigh.

“Jaemin,” Jeno repeats himself, finally making eye contact with his friend. “We need to have a talk.”

♕ ♕ ♕

“You saw that her last name is Suh and you didn’t stop to think that she might be related to Johnny fucking Suh? Really? I know you’re dense, Jaemin, but for Chrissakes!” 

Renjun’s voice rings through the small, two bedroom house as he chastises Jaemin while the two of them cook dinner. Jeno’s sitting on the floor in the living room, fiddling with Donghyuck’s radio: he’s been meaning to fix it for weeks, now, but it’s only today that he’s really found the time. That, and he’s trying to avoid the ongoing argument that’s occurring while two of his friends are making meatloaf. He knows that he’s the reason for it, yes, but that doesn’t mean that he wants to be involved. 

It isn’t Jaemin’s fault, really, and Jeno knows this. He can’t stay mad at his best friend in general, but he’s doubly inclined to let Jaemin off the hook because the younger boy has no clue as to why Johnny Suh is so universally hated in the Lee household. Jaemin doesn’t even live with them like Renjun does, so he’s blissfully unaware of exactly how marred the relationship between Jeno and Johnny is. 

“I’m home, you fucks!” The front door swings open with abandon just as Jeno finishes straightening the radio’s antenna, and he winces at the screech of the door’s protesting hinges. He’s so startled that he almost drops the radio itself, but he manages to catch it in time. This is lucky - Donghyuck saunters into the living room at the right moment, seeing Jeno both fumble and save his precious radio. Jeno pretends like he doesn’t see the glare his cousin throws at him, instead waving in greeting to him before beckoning him over.

“They’re going at it in the kitchen,” Jeno says lowly once Donghyuck’s close enough to hear him. “I wouldn’t go in there just yet.”

Donghyuck mulls this information over in his mind for a moment before raising a single, perfect eyebrow. He snatches his radio from his cousin’s lap, securing it in his grip, and sits down beside Jeno before he chooses to respond.

“And what if I want to cause problems on purpose?”

“Didn’t you have a full day of doing that at work today?” Jeno asks rhetorically, causing Hyuck to roll his eyes over-exaggeratedly. 

“Which job?” He throws back, and Jeno can’t help but laugh. Donghyuck cracks a smile, too, though neither of them know why: it isn’t funny, especially not when Hyuck is speaking truth. He’s worked two jobs since dropping out of high school alongside Jeno a year prior - one close to the rich side of town in a quaint bookstore frequented by nearby college students, and one as a local plumbers’ assistant. None of the boys ever know where he’s at, which is concerning to all of them but something nobody bothers bringing up with Hyuck. 

Judging by the fact that he’s wearing jeans and a shirt that’s had the sleeves ripped off, Jeno feels as if it’s safe to say that Hyuck’s just gotten home from being under sinks and in cisterns. By this time, he typically would’ve washed the oil out of his hair and changed into his sleeping clothes. Jeno’s heart twinges at the idea that his cousin might have to go back out to work after eating.

“You gettin’ some sleep tonight?” Jeno’s query is soft-spoken, and Donghyuck can’t help but give him a sad smile before he slowly shakes his head no.

“On house call duty until 5 in the morning. I’ll be home to nap, have some eggs, and then get to the store, though. Maybe we’ll see each other then, brother.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Jeno sighs in a way that says he knows they won’t, and Donghyuck hits his shoulder with his own. They sit like that, in silence, listening to Renjun and Jaemin bicker for a few moments, wallowing in the harsher truths of their lives for a few short moments before Donghyuck, never one comfortable with the quiet, breaks it to ask the obvious question.

“What’s up with those two?” He tilts his head towards the kitchen, and Jeno sighs before dropping his head down and pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes.

“Jaemin wingman-ed me to one of the new hires at Kim’s.”

“That’s not so bad,” Donghyuck says, furrowing his brow at Jeno. “I mean, you’re a manwhore. Figured that isn’t something you’d particularly mind.”

“Shut up,” Jeno scowls, much to Hyuck’s amusement. “And that’s the pot calling the kettle black. It isn’t the act, it’s the victim.”

“The vic- the girl?” Donghyuck’s voice is incredulous now, and Jeno all but groans as he shakes his head in disagreement.

“No - I mean, maybe, considering it’s Jaemin she was talking to - but no, fuck. I meant me, I’m the victim.”

“And why is that?”

“Because the girl is - he got me (Name) Suh’s number, damn it. Of all the girls he could’ve talked to about me, it was her.”

Donghyuck’s teeth clench immediately at hearing the unholy last name, and the air leaving his mouth between his lips makes an odd, hissing noise. His grip on his radio tightens, the pads of his fingers whitening. It’s a beat, two beats, before Hyuck lets up on the thing he has in his hands, sighing with mild dejection.

“Jaemin only moved here right before high school,” Donghyuck rationalizes, though the darkness behind his pupils lets Jeno know that he isn’t happy about being reasonable. “And we never really talk about the thing with Doyoung. I guess he either didn’t register that they’re related or he thinks our hatred is only over the class bullshit Johnny pushes on us whenever he sees us. I’m surprised you never told him the whole story, though - you two are as close as brothers.”

“What, you jealous?” Jeno teases on instinct, mainly aiming his witticism at the last phrase Hyuck had uttered. His cousin rolls his eyes once again, nudges his shoulder once again. Jeno grins, dropping his gaze to his hands. 

“It isn’t that I wanted to keep it from Jaemin - it just never came up. He hates Johnny, too, but it isn’t in the same way as us. I guess I’ll explain it tonight - we’ve got an early shift at the garage tomorrow, as it is.” 

“Let me guess,” Donghyuck sighs. “You start at 5?”

“Damn straight.” Jeno smiles sadly. “We aren’t kids anymore, Hyuckie, are we?”

“No sir,” Donghyuck smiles back, running a thumb over the radio’s buttons. “But goddamn, does adulthood suck when you don’t even have time to be with your family. Speaking of, where’s that idiot older brother of mine?”

“I heard that, you asshat!” Jeno looks up just in time to see Mark box Donghyuck’s ears, albeit as gently as possible. Still, the youngest Lee winces in pain, whining at the sudden attack. 

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” Jeno notes, grinning up at his older cousin. “Didn’t hear you come in. How much did you hear?”

“Came in through the back. If you’re talking about whatever is happening in the kitchen, then nothing. If you’re talking about your explanation of whatever is happening in the kitchen, then everything. You two are not observant in any way, shape, or form - I’ve been here for a couple of minutes. I agree, by the way - you should tell Jaemin about it.”

“Tell Jaemin about what?”

Jeno, Donghyuck, and Mark all turn their heads simultaneously to see Jaemin and Renjun walk in, the former balancing the meatloaf on a tray and the latter holding a stack of plates, knives, and forks. Mark, who’s already standing anyways, leans over, grabbing some of the cutlery to ease up Renjun’s load. Jaemin sets the tray down on the floor after kicking aside the tools Jeno’d been using on the radio, and once he straightens up, he looks down at his best friend expectantly. 

Jeno meets Jaemin’s gaze, takes note of the annoyance that’s still etched across Renjun’s features, and sighs. He runs a hand down his face before looking up again, this time meeting everyone’s eyes individually. Finally, he asks what he thinks is most important of all before starting on his spiel.

“When are the kids getting here?”

♕ ♕ ♕

Chenle and Jisung have to convince their respective parents that, yes, they have in fact completed all of their homework and studied for all their upcoming tests, before they’re allowed to head over to the Lees’ house for dinner. Both boys - the only two still left in high school, both juniors - come over in no time at all, seeing as they live in the houses on either side of Jeno’s. 

“Why the fuck are we having family dinner?” Chenle asks, voice booming as he walks in without any prior announcement. Jisung, who’s trailing right behind him, quietly shuts and locks the door.

“Jaemin fucked up,” Renjun says, right at the same time as Mark responds with a “Because I said so.”   Jisung and Chenle share a look - each with an eyebrow raised in confusion and mild anticipation - before sitting down, Jisung on the right of Jaemin and Chenle right beside Hyuck. Jaemin immediately ruffles the youngest boy’s hair, pairing it with a ‘You’re doin’ good in school, right? Good with all those books ‘n’ shit?’, to which Jisung, as always, nods while trying to dodge Jaemin’s next loving attack. Out of the seven men and boys currently having dinner in the house, only Mark and Renjun have their high school diplomas.

Jeno was so close to living a different life. He does his best not to think about what could have been. Instead, he starts talking, commanding everyone’s attention in the way only he can. 

“We think it’s… time we talked about Doyoung.” Jeno lets the words settle, resting against their skin before seeping into their bones. He sees Chenle visibly shudder, Donghyuck resting a soothing palm against his younger friend’s upper back. Renjun lets out a heavy sigh, and Jisung bites at the inside of his cheek to keep himself from making the sad, choked noise he certainly was about to let out. 

Jaemin, for his part, says nothing, only waiting patiently in a way that’s become his signature. Jeno thinks there’s nobody in the world more caring than Jaemin, sometimes, and his best friend never ceases to prove him right. 

“Doyoung’s my older brother’s best friend - you remember Taeyong, right? Yeah, he’s Taeyong’s best friend.” Mark explains, looking straight at Jaemin once everyone seems to have recovered from the mild shock. It’s understandable, of course - they never talk about Doyoung. It’s been years, and not once has The Incident come up. 

There’s always a time for everything, Jeno supposes. 

“Does this have anything to do with why Taeyong’s in jail?” Jaemin’s question is tentative at best, but Jeno can see that he’s just piecing things together in his mind. All six of the other boys nods simultaneously, murmuring affirmative answers as they do. 

“About five years ago, Johnny, Taeyong, Doyoung, and, uh… what’s his name? Nakamoto, or whatever, him... The four of them were fucking inseparable, did everything together. Johnny’s parents are known classists and elitists and whatever other -ists exist, but Johnny never seemed to be that way. Doesn’t matter, anyways. Rich kids are all the same in the end.” Donghyuck speaks this time, shedding more light as the story unfolds. The bitterness in his voice is highly evident, but nobody can blame him - they all know what it’s like to be ridiculed, pariahed because of poverty. All seven of them had forsaken the idea of trust ages ago.

“One night, Johnny and Yuta went out and got halfway to blind drunk at some bar they weren’t supposed to be at. Yuta at least went and decided to walk home instead of driving his car back, but Johnny didn’t give a fuck. ‘Course, he hit something almost immediately after getting in the damn thing, but he was too fuckin’ pussy to check and see what had happened.” Renjun tacks on after Donghyuck, adding on the next part of the infamous, unfortunate tale. Chenle is the next to speak. 

“He was near a phone booth, so he called Doyoung to come help him. Doyoung and Taeyong both hurried to help their friend, figuring he must’ve gotten hurt, only to find that he’d- he’d…”

“That he’d hit and killed the son of the mayor at the time,” Hyuck finishes, noticing how Chenle hesitates to go on. “Johnny had called the cops right after calling Doyoung, and the pigs got there not a minute or two after my - Mark and my - brother and Doyoung did. They immediately assumed one of them had been driving, and then assumed that the car had been stolen from Johnny rather than being Johnny’s itself. Fucking Suh never clarified, only stood by while his friends got hauled off. They knocked my big brother on Grand Theft Auto. Seven years for a crime he didn’t fucking commit. Still, at least we get to visit him every week.”

“They took in Doyoung in on manslaughter - not even vehicular manslaughter. He pleaded guilty to it because he knew they’d charge Taeyong with it if he didn’t, and Taeyong was looking after the rest of us - Renjun included - at the time. We don’t have any fucking parents, and Doyoung knew it. He’s already done five years, but he’s spending the next decade of his life in a federal super max, and we aren’t allowed to see him. Poor thing - Taeyong ended up getting jailed, too. Doyoung couldn’t’ve have known. Don’t know if he knows now, even.” Jeno finishes the story, voice quivering with rage and the few unshed tears that always accompany his thoughts about the huge miscarriage of justice his family and friends have faced. Taeyong’s room is still the same as it was five years prior, untouched. 

“Johnny was a witness in both cases, and he took the stand against them, saying they really did do what the cops said they did,” Jisung finishes, voice soft but emotionally charged. “My mom and Chenle’s mom stepped in as best they could to take care of Mark, Renjun, Jeno, and Hyuck afterwards until Mark got grown, but I just know it isn’t the same as Taeyong.”

“Your moms are angels,” Mark responds, smiling kindly at the two youngest members of their ragtag group. “They saved our lives. Of course, they wouldn’t have had to do so if…”

“If Johnny Suh hadn’t ruined them first.” Jeno completes the thought, Donghyuck and Renjun nodding in agreement. Jaemin says nothing, only looking each of them in the eyes earnestly. 

He gets it, Jeno decides. The rest of them must see this as well. 

After dinner, when Jeno goes to the bathroom to brush before sleeping, he finds a thoroughly sodden piece of paper stuck to the bottom of the basin. It takes him a moment to realize what it is - the sharpie has bled into one large blob. Jeno smiles to himself before getting to work cleaning it up.

He scrapes your phone number off of his sink with his bare nails and sleeps easier that night than he has in a long while. 

♕ ♕ ♕

Day Two: May 26, 1957

Jeno’s always been good with time. It’s a gift, though it’s rare he acknowledges it: being able to more-or-less accurately tell the time without ever looking at a clock is hardly the kind of superpower people dream about. 

You leave work at around 3 p.m. - Jeno knows this because he’s out in front of the garage, sat on the hood of Jaemin’s rusty pickup truck nursing a ham sandwich when you walk out of Kim’s, unbuttoning your uniform’s top few buttons as you find your brother’s waiting car. He’s too far away to hear the words you exchange with Johnny, but he watches as you glare into the Chevy for an excruciatingly long amount of time before heaving a sigh and re-buttoning your shirt. 

Jeno doesn’t watch as the two of you drive away, but he doesn’t have to. Johnny always drives like he deserves more respect on the road than his car does, and it boils the younger man’s blood more than anything. After all, Jeno’s always been able to count on machines. People? Not so much. Cars respect him, so he respects them. 

He finishes the sandwich, immediately replacing it with an unlit cigarette. ‘Oral fixation’, Donghyuck had smirked at him one night ages ago, only to have gotten a shoe thrown at him by Renjun. Jeno can’t say that his cousin is wrong, but he’ll die before he lets Hyuck know that. He thinks back to the morning, when he’d left to come to work. He’d only seen Jaemin and nobody else, and that was just because Jaemin had been his ride. 

Speaking of Jaemin- he’d been right: you’re pretty. You’ve always been pretty, but Jeno tries to ignore it. Nobody related to the scum of the Earth Johnny Suh himself can be beautiful both inside and out - he’s never been more sure of anything. Such a thought process might be unfair, sure, but he reckons it’s better that he avoid you altogether rather than get caught up like his family members had. That’s how life goes: you hunt or get hunted. 

Jeno will be damned if he ever finds himself being the prey again. 

Jess drops by at around 4:15, no necessity behind her visit. They don’t do anything, not this time, though Jeno does have to force himself to stop imagining her lipstick leaving marks in places the sun can’t see, his fingers leaving bruises along her skin. Jaemin raises an eyebrow when he sees them talking, though he doesn’t say anything, only tossing Jess his pack of Camels. It’s only got one cig left in it, so Jeno lights it and puts it to her lips. She blows out a ring of smoke before he takes a drag from it himself, his fourth smoke of the day.

“You should apply for a dealership job or something,” Jess says at around 4:30, and Jeno’s now hyper-aware of her reason for visiting. He scoffs, handing the cigarette back to her for good. It’s suddenly the most unappetizing thing in the world. She notices his expression, but slogs on anyways, hoping that she’ll get through to him. “I’m serious! You’re smart, Jen, real smart. You could do worse than sellin’ cars to crackpots in suits. You’d make more cash, too.” 

Her drawl only comes back to her when she’s talking to her childhood friends, and Jeno supposes it’s an unwitting act of classism. They don’t ‘speak good’, as Jaemin would teasingly put it, but they have heart. It’s something that’s hard to find in people who have more money. Jess has grown up like them, yes, but in some ways she’s no longer part of the world Jeno’s forced to live in. It’s a world where he’s got family and friends in jail, where his own brothers - he almost never calls them his cousins, because they’re brothers if he’s ever had any - have to work two jobs just to make sure all of them get by, where their friends have to do the same. Jess has a stable job now - kudos to her - and a rich boyfriend. She’s set for as long as she can hope to be.

She’s okay with doing up the hair of ladies who sit idly and gossip about the ‘filthy poors’ in the south side of town. Jeno can hardly look rich folks in the eyes without gritting his teeth into dust. He’s well aware that they are not the same. 

“Why this sudden interest in my career?” Regardless, he only questions her coolly, unwilling to start an argument that won’t find an end any time soon. There’s no telling when a car will come in and Jess will have to leave so the boys can do their work, and, besides, this isn’t a discussion he wants to have. Not with Jess. Not with anyone. 

He’d been so, so close to going to college with a full ride. Jeno had dreams once. He’d been a fool to even think of possessing such intangible commodities. He doesn’t have any anymore.

“I just… you’re brainy as hell. It’s a shame seeing you as a grease monkey when you could do more with your life, is all. I mean well, Jen, you know I do.” Her eyes are wide in earnestness, and Jeno can’t help but sigh. It’s not Jess’ fault he’s a realist, that he’s lost opportunities before. Before he can say anything in response, though, probably breaking her heart just a little bit in the process, Jaemin pipes in. 

“If I have to drop him off at a dealership everyday in the hunk o’ junk I drive while he’s dressed up in a three-piece suit, I’ll hang myself using a chain of grease rags. Besides,” He chuckles, tilting his head at his best friend. “Who’ll keep my sorry ass company here at the shop?”

A corner of Jeno’s mouth lifts up immediately at the save, and it’s all he can do to shrug and gesture towards his best friend in agreement. Jess rolls her eyes before darting her gaze between the two men, and once she realizes that she really won’t get anywhere with either of them, she only sighs and shakes her head, dropping the idea for good… for now. 

“That’s not the only reason you came here.” Jeno states, keeping an eye out for any potential customers. It’s a Sunday, though, so he doubts many people will come by. Church hasn’t been out for long - he knows this for sure because Mark never fails to attend, no matter how heavy his university course load gets and let alone how many hours during the week he’s had to work. He’s the only one currently pursuing a higher education, and Jeno thinks that he might be the only one tenacious enough to do so. 

It’s a shame - Jeno’d been real smart in school. So had Hyuck. They both know Mark beats himself up everyday for being the only one of the Lees who’ll get a Bachelor’s, but they both also know that he’s least likely to jeopardize his education. If anyone deserves college, it’s Mark. 

“How’d you guess?” Jess draws the mechanic out of his thoughts, and he blinks rapidly before orienting himself back in reality. His smirk returns - Jeno thinks he might use it as a facade too much at this point - and he can only laugh. 

“I didn’t - it was a shot in the dark. What’s up?” 

Jess opens her mouth to speak, but is cut off by Jaemin, who doesn’t realize she’s about to talk. Jeno’s best friend tosses him the beat up truck’s keys in a perfect arc, throwing him a well-meaning grin while he’s at it. 

“We won’t get much work today,” Jaemin states as Jeno catches the keys nimbly. “I’ll walk down to Church today, haven’t been in a while. Might be nice.”

“If you’re gonna go every three months at most, what’s the point of goin’ at all?” Jess asks, only mildly peeved at having been interrupted. Her grin is sunny, though, and Jaemin knows that she’s just teasing. A friend of Jeno’s is a friend of his; the vice versa also tends to ring true. 

“Unlike this one over here,” Jaemin jabs a thumb out towards Jeno. “I still believe. That, and I figured I’d walk Mark home. Don’t get to see him too often, y’know?”

“Hey- “ Jeno starts, stopping immediately as Jess waves him off with one hand. 

“Don’t mind him, he’s just disillusioned with everything he can’t see. Catholic Church included. Of course, whenever his grandparents are in town, he still pretends.” Jess explains sagely, much to Jaemin’s amusement and Jeno’s disgruntlement. The latter rolls his eyes, raising the hand enclosing the keys in a wave goodbye as Jaemin pushes himself off of the wall he’s leaning against. 

“Funny how Mark’s a Protestant and so is Hyuck - kind of, I don’t think he’s super religious at this point - but you’re a Catholic.” Jaemin notes, and Jeno shrugs for the second time in one day. 

“Mark & Hyuck’s dad was a Pastor, my dad converted to Catholicism for shits and giggles when he was, like, 15. They might be brothers, but they aren’t the same. I was never the religious disgrace of the family, though,” Jeno notes, a small, sadder smile replacing his grin momentarily. “Not after Taeyong said he’s an atheist. Anyways, Mark’s probably on his way home already, if you leave now you might be able to catch him.” 

Jaemin knows better than to press, only nodding, raising an eyebrow for a split second, and turning on his heel before easing himself into a jog. He’s still dressed in his work clothes, and his hair is as shaggy as ever, and Jeno thinks churchgoers might faint upon seeing him. He also knows that Jaemin doesn’t mind. 

“Now you,” Jeno looks at Jess once Jaemin is out of sight. “What’s up?”

Jess’ shoulders droop immediately, and for a moment she looks so forlorn that she doesn’t even look like herself. The expression passes as quickly as it had come into view, and Jeno accepts the nonchalant smile she gives him like it’s what she means to project outward.

“John’s been secretive lately.”

She says so much more with her eyes than she does with her mouth. Jeno sighs, tilting his head as he does to survey his friend for a moment. Jess is conflicted, that much is evident, and Jeno doesn’t quite know why. Nevertheless, he’s always made sure to keep his head out of other people’s business. He won’t change now. 

“If you’re worried that he’s cheating, why don’t you talk to him about it?” Jeno says it like it’s easy, like Jess isn’t unfaithful to her own boyfriend. His eyes dart out towards the street again - nobody’s coming in for repairs. Jess lets out a huff of air, and Jeno realizes she must think his words are sarcastic rather than as earnest as he’s meant them to be. 

“I’m being ridiculous, I know, it’s just- I just… I don’t know. It isn’t even that he’s acting super different, he’s just being more… conspiratorial? With his friends? It’s more of a feeling than anything else, I guess. I must sound fucking insane.” She runs her fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her face even as she casts her eyes towards the ground. She may be trying to reassure herself that she isn’t seeing things, but it’s called a sixth sense for a reason. 

“You have good intuition,” Jeno rushes to assure her that she isn’t losing her mind. “I hope you’re wrong, but… maybe you and your boy toy need to have a good talk. From both sides.”

“Yeah,” Jess responds, not knowing what else to say. “Yeah. I just had to say it out loud to someone that wasn’t my reflection, I think. I’ll figure it out. Anyways, I have a couple regulars dropping by at the salon today, so I should probably- ” 

“Go to work,” Jeno cuts in, his smile forgiving. Of what, neither of them are sure. “We have all the time in the world to talk. Bye, Jess.”

“Bye, Jen.” Is the response he gets, and then Jess is on her way. The day is silent again, now that Jaemin and Jess are both gone, but Jeno finds that he doesn’t really mind it. It’s not so bad- with no customers, no coworkers, and no friends around, Jeno gets to sit and think.

That’s what he does best. 

♕ ♕ ♕

It’s 6:27 in the evening when it happens.

For once in his life, Jeno checks his wristwatch. He isn’t sure why the sudden compulsion to actually know the time overcomes him, but he chalks it up to ‘dying from boredom’ and thinks nothing else of it. After all, the rags won’t clean themselves and the shop’s workbenches are only as neat as their owners. Jeno isn’t the most put together person alive, but he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t mind mess. 

So he cleans, even when he’s the only one who’s doing it. 

He’s in the midst of organizing his wrenches in size order when a familiar red Bel Air glides into the diner’s parking lot, top down with Johnny Suh’s loud laughter audible even from across the street. The music blaring from his car radio is only almost as loud as he is, and that’s saying something, because Johnny takes up every space he’s ever in. Yuta Nakamoto is beside him like he always is, though he’s more reserved than usual. Jeno does his best not to pay them any heed, but it’s difficult when his own responsibilities are mind-numbingly boring at the moment. He’ll take any entertainment he can get, even if it’s Johnny fucking Suh being the true neighborhood nuisance once again. 

Funny how people look at Jeno funny when he walks down streets minding his own business, but they don’t say jackshit about a Suh kid blasting Elvis in public right before dinner time. 

But that’s neither here nor there. 

Jeno actually manages to finish his tool-sorting and is getting ready to finally, finally pack up when the music stops. Johnny must’ve parked. The burgeoning night is eerily silent, and the young mechanic pauses what he’s doing - making sure he has everything, mostly - because the world seems like it’s holding its breath. Just as he’s about to relax, slump his shoulders, and get back to his own work, he hears it. 

Of course he hears it. It’s impossible to miss. 

The scream shatters the silence into a million pieces, startling Jeno so hard he almost drops Jaemin’s car keys. He’s rushing out of the garage before he can think, and it’s moments later that he sees none other than Johnny Suh and Yuta Nakamoto rushing out of the diner, stuffing what look like pistols into the waistbands of their jeans. There’s cold, hard cash grasped in each of their hands, and Jeno cannot, for the life of him, comprehend what he’s seeing.

He makes brief eye contact with Johnny Suh, and the recognition in the older’s narrowed eyes freezes Jeno’s blood. There’s no time to ponder this, though - not when Johnny pulls out and rushes away within seconds, his car roaring to life on the town’s streets. Jeno’s just witnessed a robbery - a robbery by one of the richest and most powerful people in the area. Jeno’s just witnessed a robbery, and the criminal himself is aware of this.

As he watches the owner of Kim’s run out, hands on his head in panic and disbelief, all Jeno can think about is how Johnny Suh is going to try to shut him up. Jeno is now the star witness to a criminal act. There’s no way he’ll sleep tonight.

He leaves City Motors with duller eyes than he ever has, his workstation spotless and mind swallowed in darkness. 

At least now he knows why Johnny’s been weird towards Jess lately. 

♕ ♕ ♕

Jaemin drops Mark off at the Lee household with a parting hug, clasping their hands together in a high five before pulling each other into their chests and clapping each other on the back. Each other. Jaemin might be the ‘newest’ addition to their band of seven, but he doesn’t feel any different from the rest of them. They’re his brothers, and he’ll always have their backs. They’ll always have his.

Mark invites him inside, but Jaemin declines - he’s out of chewing gum, of all things, and he knows the sketchy convenience store by the alley near 7th Street always sells at half price on Sundays. He bids the older man goodbye again, throwing him a lax two-finger salute and a small smirk before turning on his heels and jamming his hands into his jean pockets, a stance that does nothing to help his already awful posture. 

He whistles all the way down to the store - Kun’s Konvenience - mostly because he can’t get the tune Hyuck is always humming out of his head, but also because he feels almost truly happy. Sure, his future looks like it’ll lie in the City Motors garage for the rest of his life, and sure, maybe he shouldn’t step foot inside Church - the dirty looks had been telling today - but that doesn’t dampen his mood. The sun is shining, the sky is a brilliant blue. Kun’s is selling gum for cheap, and Jaemin’s in need of it. He rounds the final corner and the short, squat red brick building he’s looking for comes into view. 

His hand is closing in on the handle of the store’s front door when another, slightly larger, hand places itself on top of his. 

Jaemin barely has time to step back when a fist connects with his jaw. Through his swimming vision, he sees Johnny Suh raise a pistol, and he doesn’t have the time to raise his hands before the butt of the gun collides with the side of his head. The last thing Jaemin remembers before passing out entirely is the ugly, ugly sneer across the older man’s face as he glares down at him. 

“Sorry. Blame your meddling friend.” Johnny spits out, placing a well-aimed kick in Jaemin’s side as his finale. 

 ♕ ♕ ♕

It’s 8:32 at night when the landline rings. Mark’s studying and both Donghyuck and Renjun are out at work, so Jeno’s the only one available to pick up the phone. Typically, he’d be wary of doing so - the neighborhood elementary schoolers have only recently discovered the cheap thrills that come with prank calling - but something compels him to hear out whoever’s on the other end.

There’s a crackling noise, and what sound like hushed whispers, and this goes on for so long that Jeno’s about to either yell something about working on homework instead of pranking or just hang up without a word when the other person finally speaks. Jeno sets down the dish he’s washing, pays no mind to the way it clatters into the otherwise-empty sink when Johnny fucking Suh finally opens his damned mouth. 

“Caught an eyeful down at City Motors today, didn’t you?” He asks, casually, as if there are no underlying threats hiding beneath his overly honeyed words. As if he isn’t the one who’s committed a crime, as if Jeno’s the one with the gun and the money he never earned. Bile rises almost automatically in the younger man’s throat, but he can’t bring himself to put the phone down anymore. It’s as if he’s stuck. 

“What do you want?” Jeno manages to hiss out when the urge to vomit recedes, and the way Johnny chuckles in response sends chills down Jeno’s spine. There’s something sickeningly sinister about the situation they’re caught in, and Jeno knows that he’s unprepared for when the other shoe drops. His mind can’t even work properly, not when there are so many ways for this to go. 

“Police will be at your door tomorrow morning, looking to arrest the Kim’s robber. I’ll have given them a helpful tip by then, of course. Wouldn’t be good of me to know who it is and not let the local law enforcement know. Also… left you a present in the alleyway by that one convenience store your kind go to. Think it goes by the name of… Jaemin?”

Jeno’s blood runs cold at the mention of his best friend’s name. Johnny doesn’t stop speaking. 

“He was real easy to drag by his feet after I got him in the head, though getting rid of the trail of blood by the store was a little harder. I’m about half sure I left him breathing, but-”

The landline slips out of Jeno’s hand, no active effort made to put it down. Everything suddenly feels as if it’s in slow motion, as if his muscles are made of lead and his tongue is made of sandpaper, but he hears himself calling out for Mark before his own actions register in his mind. He must sound frantic, because he can hear his older cousin practically sprint down the stairs even through the haze his mind is in. Jaemin. Jaemin’s hurt. Jaemin’s bleeding, Jaemin’s in pain. 

“What? What the fuck happened- Who was on the phone- Jeno? What happened?” Mark’s voice is panicked enough, rushed enough, to shake Jeno out of his stupor. His anguish moves aside, making way for rightly placed rage as he meets his family member’s eyes. When he speaks, his voice is choked, barely restrained and yet so, so pained. 

“We need to go to Kun’s,” Jeno states, swallowing the growing lump in his throat. He can’t cry, not now, not when a clock might be ticking. He hasn’t cried in ages. He can’t cry now. Jaemin needs him. He can’t waste his time crying. “We need to go to Kun’s.” He repeats.

“It’s Jaemin.”

[feelingofcontent]

DNP Rewatch: THE FACE SWAP CHALLENGE

Date video was published: 03/09/2016 (X)

DNP Main Channel Rewatch: 300

This first DNP joint video of 2016! There had been a pretty big gap between videos again, but DNP were busy hosting the BRIT Awards at the end of February, which they shared a lot of content from (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6).

I adore Phil’s galaxy shirt. I wish he would have worn it for more things.

On to the video...

0:00 - for some reason their faces already look weird to me. So much shaky-Phil cam.

0:05 - Phil always gives the credit to who’s similar videos he saw!

0:13 - “highbrow video” 😂 self-aware Dan as usual. Phil does not care.

0:28 - well that spin was something. i love that he left the phone drop in, lol

0:35 - it’s removed the slightest bit of both of their fringes and transferred that too. I’m already disturbed by this.

0:43 - “let’s never have a child” ...ummm

0:45 - much more steady camera holding from Dan

0:48 - a “middle-aged mum” or a “mii” not sure I see either of those things

0:50 - when Dan smiles big it’s even more disturbing on Phil’s head

0:52 - the synced lip movements are great 😂

0:54 - they are not holding it together at all and I love it

1:05 - it’s so disturbing help 😨

1:09 - the head-tilting definitely makes it worse

1:14 - Dan doesn’t even know what Phil’s going to say and then we get the full-hyena laugh

1:18 - Phil throwing in clips from different angles all mixed together

1:31 - Phil’s just amusing himself here

1:34 - and Dan, lol

1:42 - the disturbing voice does not help matters. Also the stuff piled at the base/on the floor of the wardrobe; not as messy as sometimes when we see a background glimpse, but it’s never neat. haha

1:46 - okay, this one is awful on Dan. I think the fact that he has a larger mouth makes it worse.

1:56 - “Obama suits my hair” sure Phil. “I look hot” 😂

2:09 - “like my nightmares but worse” not sure I want to know what those nightmares are then

2:13 - NO THANK YOU. DAN NO.

2:21 - love Phil trying not to laugh in the background and then Dan breaking as soon as he does

2:25 - Dan does not like it at all when it switches back to just his face

2:29 - Phil just thinks he hair looks good, I think. “I look like a hot mum.” 😂

2:37 - cricket noises. The animal ones are really disturbing too.

2:51 - Dan really does think everything Phil says is hilarious

2:53 - I like the ones less where they put their face on still pictures

3:02 - neither of them like that one!

3:26 - Furby! terrifying but a great idea for this

3:35 - “much nightmares” indeed

3:46 - anime of course. The chin is very triangular there

3:53 - of course Phil went straight to alien. Phil’s just amusing himself by making different expressions with that one.

3:56 - I think alien worked better

4:06 - ahhhh, do not like. they are very lean-y in by this point

4:15 - Attack on Titan theme again. It’s literally almost every video that Phil’s singing that.

4:35 - “oil me” umm...sure Phil. Also a joke about something he had tweeted recently.

4:46 - Phil thinks he looks great as everyone 😂

5:05 - Phil gets so disturbing in these videos; I love it

5:21 - pretty sure they never watched Supernatural so it’s hilarious that they included this

5:24 - for some reason that does not look like Benedict Cumberbatch’s face on either of them

5:35 - disturbing because their cheeks move but the mask’s mouth doesn’t

5:52 - oh, that’s so weird with their own faces!

6:02 - Dan...WHAT.

6:24 - this outro is a mess and great

6:40 - yes much better. TATINOF US promo time!

This whole video is just them having a good time messing around with the app and laughing at each other. Not sure what the “challenge” part of this was, but it is definitely funny! And has THE PHOTO BOOTH CHALLENGE vibes, which I’m sure was the point, although I think that original one is better.

Also enjoy this disturbing face swap bonus image Phil posted for Mother’s Day.

(Side note: This is my 300th of these posts. 😱 It somehow doesn’t seem like that long at all.)

[monsoonblooms12]

Sirimiri (Ethan Ramsey x f!MC)

Summary: Reminisces of their first meet from Ethan's POV. Based on OH Book 1 Chapter 1

Sirimiri: (Spanish) A light drizzle, a fine rain🌧

A/N: This is like a band-aid to the hearts I hurt with the Brydia fic on Sat. This is total fluff and has rains, so I hope this nonsense brings a smile to your faces🤎

A/N 2: The flashback portions are indented

Loads of thanks to the amazing @jamespotterthefirst for pre-reading! Love you🤎

If you enjoyed the story, please like it, leave a comment or reblog. Your feedback keeps me going🤎

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey X f!MC (Dr Pooja Sharma)

Word Count: around 1.8 K

Rating: General

Category: Fluff

Triggers: A few curse words (Just 1 or 2)

Prompts: @choicesaprilchallenge2021 Day 25: Bliss

A soft breeze blew through his dark brown hair as Ethan sat next to the window, reading one of those detective novels Pooja rambled about endlessly.

And, not that he would admit it to her in any way, he liked the storytelling. Pooja had told him that the stories were originally written for teens, so he was doubtful that it would appeal to him.

But the books had been written in a way that captured the attention of the old and young alike, breaking through the barriers of age.

As the rain began the rhythm of serenity in the background, he took the bookmark and placed it on page no. 45 of Incident on the Kalka Mail.

The rain was soft, gentle and refreshing. He envisioned her, sitting on Alex's couch, watching the rain as Alex played with Comet & Jenner. She was always fascinated by the rain, staring endlessly at it, and bearing that one dimpled smile he was a fan of.

He got up, went to the balcony, and leant on the railing. Occasional water droplets fell on his forehead and cheeks, making it an enjoyable experience.

His balcony bore a multi-chromatic view with the brown of the earthen pots, the green of the plantlets, splattered with occasional whites, pinks and blues of the vivid flowers. All of them planted by Pooja when she moved in here.

She bears the love of gardening in her traits, he thought. Ethan was amazed when he went to Panchmarhi for the first time and saw the vibrant garden her father had grown all around their house, making it majestic and serene at the same time.

Pooja came into his life like an unannounced shower of rain. Just like her arrival made his balcony's melancholy monochrome full of hues of colours, her love made his life multi-hued with the colours of emotions, feelings and care. Life was a bliss for every moment she spent with him.

One after the other, doors of memories opened. Memories that no matter how much he had strived to forget, refused to leave him. And at this moment, he was grateful for them. A light chuckle escaped him as he thought,

Their memories were as stubborn as both of them were.

Like pages of an old journal, remembrances presented themselves before him and he got lost in them, in her, as the rain accelerated from a drizzle to a mild downpour. But Ethan didn't leave his spot. He was too drenched in her to care about the rain.

Slowly the last pages of the memoir of his brain took him to the first day of their meet. A distant memory, but yet crystal clear before his blue orbs. Nothing was particularly significant on that day. Just another day of handling cases and dealing with petty interns.

But there was one. One person due to whom that day still stands atop the others in his life.

It really started like any other regular day. After taking Jenner for a walk, feeding him his Purina ProPlan and becoming the recipient of his numerous licks that brightened up his day, he got ready.

Get a Vienna at the Derry Roasters was his mental note for the morning.

The smooth cinnamon-y taste enamoured his taste buds, as he internally groaned at the sudden remembrance of what day it was.

This day, every year, was the one he dreaded the most.

Why? One would ask.

Because it was the day a fresh batch of petty interns came to test his patience.

Ugh. Mental eye roll.

That's why he made sure that he got his favourite coffee from his favourite coffee shop and grab on any last moments of solace before going to face the mad troupe.

The sun dazzled overhead, glaring at everyone under its blanket. Ethan's mind kept fluctuating between the medical cases and the agony of facing new interns. Step by step, he made his pace quicker, hoping to get to his office before any "fans" started pestering him.

Even today Ethan hated interns just as much as he did 3 years ago.

Or, did he? Oh, whom was he kidding?

His mind, still could not comprehend how, a single person, waltzed into his life and had such a profound effect in every sphere of his character, slowly, tactfully carving him into a new man.

A tolerant man.

Who knew how it felt to be loved.

Who knew how to love.

The two days, today and the first of her intern year, were such a stark contrast to each other.

The blazing sun vs. the drumming rain. The coldness of him vs. his warmness today. The frown of that day vs. the smile of today.

Two different worlds, two different times and two different circumstances.

How grateful he was to become the man he was today.

He still remembers the spontaneous name he called her that day.

That one nickname stuck as a token of his feelings all through the years.

Rookie.

When he called her Rookie that day, he meant it.

She was an intern, after all.

"Hey. Rookie. Get in here."

Ethan wasn't paying attention to her. He needed an accomplice and saw her, hence called her.

She had the eyes of a diagnostician, he collected. To notice a mild bruise on the patient on the first day of your residence, that too when you have just arrived is not something many would have been able to do.

He knew from personal experience, that half of them would have been complimenting him when there was goddamn patient to save.

He hated them.

But the first day jitters did get her after all. Her hand trembled with the scalpel in it.

And without much thought, he took it in his.

It was the first and last time he did that with an intern.

How foolish he was, Ethan realizes as he makes himself a cup of hot chocolate.

Nah, not quite as delicious as Poo's, but works.

She was an exception to every one of his rules.

He had made her an exception before even realizing it.

"...Sharma." He scoffed, fury rising through his veins.

Tossing back her ID, he went around, muttering just a single "Arrogant interns" as he heeled back to his office.

The faint mutter of her "What an asshole" had reached him, and he scoffed.

Why are all these interns the same?

He is marking the differences, he thinks.

The differences between how it was then, and how it is now.

The fury of "What an asshole" now subdued to a normal remark she teased him with, ending up in chuckles.

One of the most fascinating incidents, for him, was the Barbara episode.

He had tried being strict, pleasant, stubborn, but nothing, at all, had made her take the meds.

That is, until Pooja came, like the flick of a magic wand, and made her take them.

"What is the blood group of an author?"

"Type-O!"

Memory brightened with the stupid joke she had made with so much enthusiasm made him chuckle.

If there's something that hasn't changed, it's Pooja's sense of humour.

Ethan thought of going out for a walk. A pluvious shower spread a scotch-mist all around, and he thought against it.

Always during monsoons, Pooja made it a point to walk around the city, splashing and dancing in the rain, especially if the rain was a heavy downpour.

It reminded her of the eternal, melodious, torrential cloudbursts that enveloped the hills of Panchmarhi throughout the year.

And Ethan? He would be standing in the very same balcony he was moving towards now, watching her enjoy and feeling her enjoyment reciprocate in himself.

The film roll of reminiscences projected on the misty atmosphere as the vinyl played a harmonious melody of her laughter, the splashes of water and the pitter-patter of the raindrops.

The image is vivid in front of his eyes. He spots the faint dimples on her wet cheeks and his heart dances.

For a moment he forgot that it was just a picture cast by the projector of his encephalon.

Just like he was drenched in the rain, he was drenched in her love.

He had never felt all alive as he does at the moment.

He lets the mist envelop him, just like her memories enveloped his senses.

Relaxing against the cool air refreshing his skin and heart.

"You remembered?", Pooja asks, surprise and curiosity evident in her musical tone.

"Just paying attention." Again that dazzling smile appeared on his face and the dimpled one on hers.

If he had paid attention to his soul that day, he would have sensed the butterflies that erupted in his stomach.

He is still not sure why, or how he remembered her name when he had never made an effort to do so with any other intern, especially on their first day.

It's as if his mind knew that this name would become the jewel of his life, the beauty of his soul, and it stored it, kept it safely between the silken folds of memory.

The thunder crackled and the storm raged. Zeus must be having a good time up there, Ethan scoffed as he hurried indoors.

The thunderstorm was playing a fortissimo orchestra and amidst it, he failed to hear the repetitive chime of his phone on the night stand. It was when he saw the lit screen of the notorious cuboid, that he understood someone phoned.

It was Pooja. With 5 missed calls.

Fuck.

He called her back. It didn't even ring once before he heard her speak from the other side.

Ethan! Oh, God, I was fucking scared. Open the goddamn door!

He mentally smacked himself as he proceeded to the main entryway.

As soon as he heard the click, Jenner pounced up and down. He leapt upon him and licked him all over as Pooja entered, chuckling without a breath.

She loved her boys more than anything.

Once Jenner calmed down, he trotted off to the kitchen in search of any buffets Ethan would have arranged for him.

Pooja locked her arms around Ethan's neck, evidently worried, "Why were you not opening the door, E?"

Ethan brought her close, wrapping his arm around her waist, touching his forehead to her, which he knew would bring an instant calm over her elegant features.

Giving the most ravishing smile Pooja had ever seen, he whispered "Drowned in a certain someone's remembrances."

She gave him a playful wink, "Drowned in love, Dr Ramsey? Oh, What a Misery! My Intern Year Dr Ramsey would never..."

And they both chuckled. Intern Year Dr Ramsey would never.

Placing the most gentle kiss on her forehead, he locked her hand in his,

Let's get something to eat?

PS: Thank you so much for reading my mess and I hope you have a great day ahead🤎

Tags (Please let me know if you would like to be added or removed!): @bbrandy2002 @whimsicallywayward15 @ohramsey @natureblooms24 @nervoussaladsludgeopera @trrfanaddict @hopelessromanticmonie @ilikemenbutonlyethanramsey @lovablegranny @bellcat2010 @gkittylove99 @kingliam2019 @starrystarrytrouble @3riche @chetachisblog @zoehanji @withbeautyandrage @drariellevalentine @mvalentine @aestheticartsx @angela8754 @schnitzelbutterfingers @ao719 @choicesstan1 @neotericthemis @nikki-2406 @anotherbeingsworld @maurine07 @sophxwithers @twinkleallnight @choicesaddict5 @gardeningourmet @mysticaurathings @jessiembruno @stygianflood @aleynareads @choicesbookclub

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

[stableoftheunstable]

summary: You and Sasha decide to actually socialise but doubting your curiosity, you end up finding out one of the deepest secrets that’s been happening behind your back.

———————————————————————

notes : hi! this is my first full story- and i promise the plot will get better!! Thanks for even attempting to read, I hope you enjoy, updates will be on my twitter @d3villi3r !!!

this is also on ao3 !

———————————————————————

Which one to you think looks better?” a voice echoed from above you. Instantly, you peered your head from above your laptop to see your roommate switching between two dresses in the mirror, “Well?” She questioned; her eyes fixated on you with an eager expression on her face. Your eyes analysed the two options she laid in front of you, one was an emerald V-neck dress that looked like it was made of some type of silk and the other one was a standard little black dress. “Aren’t they both mine?” you asked Sasha as she tried to change onto a separate subject” Anyway I say green, it’ll look cute” paying her no further mind you carried on typing on your laptop paying no mind to Sasha, “The black one it is!” Sasha excitedly skipped out of your room to change. Well, what was the point of asking me then? You murmured under your breath.

You brushed off Sasha’s clear shade to you and carried on searching, as depressing as it sounds you just wanted to relax, between university and work, everything just drained you. Yes, it meant you had no life outside the two, but it also meant you had your life together for once. Moving in with Sasha was cost effective but as much as you loved Sasha it felt like she was always there, literally.

“Okay be honest how do I look?” Sasha aimlessly walked into your room pulling her dress down as she waddled. Sasha stood in front of you twirling her reddish-brown hair that she threw into her usual loose ponytail with her bangs neatly parted to the left side of her face. “You look great!” you shot a quick smile towards Sasha before she could get offended at anything. Suddenly, you felt the empty space on your bed sink; at the corner of your eye Sasha sat next to you, and aggressively stared at the wisps of your hair that stood out.

“Sasha...?” you turned towards her almost banging heads with her because of how close she was, “What are you doing?”. “Before you make up your mind please just hear me out!” She pleaded. “Come to this party with me please! Even Mikasa is going and when has that girl ever left her house!” Sasha begged and begged, she softly pouted and bounced up and down on your bed disrupting the set up you had. She put on her best puppy dog eyes and fluttered her eyelashes till you answered.

“Whose party is it anyway?” you questioned hoping she would stop bouncing. Sasha stopped in her tracks and furrowed her eyebrows towards you “I’m not sure, something to do with Connie and Armin” You looked back at Sasha and gently sighed, “What time do I need to be ready?” Sasha’s eyes lit up with a gleaming smile she jumped off your bed dragging you with her, “YES!!, okay you have until 9:45” Sasha sang as she headed for the door, you peered at the time on your laptop seeing it said 9:25, “I have 20 minutes?!” You said as you gawked at her “See you in twenty!” she said as she slammed the door behind her.

After ages of Sasha thanking you for coming with her the pair of you arrived. The house was quite big for a pair university students to own, music boomed from the house piercing your ears as Sasha pulled you through the house, people stood squished together as they danced some of them cursing at you as you pushed passed but Sasha paid no mind towards them, none of the faces you grazed seemed familiar until Sasha pulled you into a basement. As Sasha skipped down the stairs together a swarm of familiar voices flooded you.

“Hi Sasha! and hi y/n!” a voice called from the corner. For a basement it wasn’t too shabby, besides from the odd choice of white walls there was 2 couches and table in the corner filled with drinks, the music that played from above was still loud yet was muffled perfectly. You and Sasha walked towards the voice and to your surprise it was Hitch who stood next to Mikasa who paid you and Sasha no mind,

“Surprised to see you y/n, you barley leave your house. Like Mikasa!” Hitch exclaimed as she nudged Mikasa. You sarcastically laughed at Hitch with no care for what she was saying as you already didn’t want to be here, why let her make it worse. Your eyes drifted throughout the room and to no surprise as per usual you saw Armin and Connie awkwardly trying to flirt with a group of girls. The interior of the basement was beautiful, with fitted lights and basic decor, you’d never assume that a bunch of guys lived here you thought. In the corner of the room stood a shortish guy who stood mixing brown and white. ‘Note to self don’t drink from wherever he’s pouring that into,’ you thought as you continued looking all you continued to see was sweaty people making out in all corners of the room. After scanning the whole scene, you tried to join back into whatever Hitch and Sasha were blabbing on about. “We’ll be back y/n alright!” Sasha giggled as Hitch grabbed onto her “Oh and don’t go upstairs bye!” her voice muffled as her and Hitch ran of like a couple of schoolgirls to the opposite side of the room. You smiled towards Sasha and gave her a sheepish wave as you and Mikasa stood there awkwardly in silence, you didn’t really know much about her apart from her overprotectiveness, even though it was a little too excessive it seemed sweet but that was the only thing you knew about her, you aimlessly stood there in complete and utter silence until Annie slithered next to Mikasa. Annie and Mikasa had to be the most anti-social out of most people you knew, they were so quiet and secretive almost as if they were made for each other. Annie looked up and locked eyes with you and confusedly furrowed her eyebrows at you; with no idea with what she was trying to say, catching on to what you thought she was trying to say you slipped away leaving them to their own devices.

After walking around aimlessly, you ended up walking to the table filled with drinks trying to avoid the disgusting concoction of white and dark alcohol, your eyes glazed over the table and just grabbed the quickest soft drink and made eye contact with the stairs, you swiftly made your way towards them forgetting the demands Sasha made earlier. You hopped up the stairs with your drink in one hand and the other pushing through the basement door as you did the music boomed into your face slightly making you jump, the room was filled with dancing people and people casually playing card games on the floor, what was the point of me staying down there? You thought,

Using your feet to guide you through the crowd, you stumbled through trying to avoid any rowdy drunk you approached earlier. As you approached the end of the sweaty crowd, you unconsciously fell onto a tall figure causing parts of your drink to spill onto them. “please don’t be drunk, please don’t be drunk, please don’t be drunk” you pleaded under your voice hoping they wouldn’t be too fussed over the spill on them

Regardless, the figure laced their hands up your back bracing you from any fall. Without thinking you raised your head to see who the tall figure that lured over you was. A waft of cherries and a deepened cologne hit you. Your eyes aligned with them before backing off them “I’m sorry,” you shouted hoping they heard you over the music, the tall figures eyebrow furrowed and mouthed “huh?” Before pulling you somewhere quiet, your face grew confused as they pulled you into a kitchen. Trying to hide the fact you were phased you repeated what you said before.

The guy propped himself onto a countertop, he sat there in a pair of grey joggers with a black hoodie that was slightly damp from the drink you spilt on him. “it’s no problem cutie,” he chuckled placing his arm onto his neck, the loose sleeve of his hoodie shifted down causing a fresh tattoo peer from his sleeve. A Japanese dragon swarmed up his forearm with his veins lightly popping up leaving them on display, the black and red ink of his tattoo complimented the warm undertones of his skin. His hair was thrown up into a sleek messy bun showing a freshly cut undercut that shaped his face. You awkwardly stared at him, he extended his hand while announcing his name to you, “I’m Eren” you planted your drink down before grasping onto his hand “I’m y/n�� you replied, Eren shot you a smile, “I’m sorry about the drink spill,” you blurted out hoping he wouldn’t get mad,

“It’s cool, honestly don’t worry,” he reassured looking at you up and down before continuing, “Who you here with?” Eren asked, he grabbed your drink and shot some of it back without asking.

“Sasha, I don’t know if you know her” you felt completely out of your skin, the husky undertones in his voice made the blood rush to your face and your eyes wonder.

You heard many things about him on campus like how he dropped out to move onto ‘better things’ he was like the one everyone wanted to be. However, his voice sounded like a dream to you, something about it seemed new.

Suddenly, he softly pulled you closer to him, “Sorry, I couldn’t hear you beautiful what did you say?” Butterflies grew in your stomach as you found yourself standing in between his legs closer He rested his hands on your waist for a few seconds anticipating your reaction, his hooded eyes looked down at your reaction as he grazed your skin his laugh echoed as you felt your face violently blush at his slow touch. Eren’s emerald green eyes smirked at you igniting a certain flame in you, shaking off the feelings he brought to you, you repeated what you said about Sasha and his whole expression changed,

“Sasha? Sasha Blouse?” He asked. Confused as you were you just nodded at him, no clue what Sasha was known for, but it didn’t feel like it was good. You stood there dazed as why he was so shocked at her name. It was just Sasha the same girl who sits in her room and eats all day and occasionally comes in your room to ask if you have food. However, you dismissed the thought of Sasha being known for something weird.

“What brings you here? You don’t look like you’d be at one of these types of parties”. Eren tilted his head down at you, softly lifting your chin to make eye contact with you, his warm hands on your cold skin intoxicated you. But what did he mean by these types of parties? Is he high or something? Isn’t this a normal party? “I don’t understand what you mean?” Eren just gazed towards you before pulling something out of joggers.

Cautiously, you crinkled your nose while slowly creating a distance between the two of you backing away unaware of what he pulled out. Eren pulled the object into his hands grasping the gun that laid in it. The steel frame stood between his hand, his lengthy fingers wrapped around the metal frame, you unconsciously widened your eyes at the sight. Unexpectedly, you could feel the steel of the gun align with your chin, your skin tingled with your eyes staying narrowed at the marbled floor. The hand that clasped onto the gun lifted the small pistol to align your endearing face with theirs, the man’s green eyes captured itself into yours: his fingers stayed cocked onto the guns trigger leaving it piercing your skin. Blood crawled to your face, you wanted to say it was at the fact a what seemed to be loaded gun stayed aligned to your chin your life aligned with a guy you just met, but butterflies grew at the way he peered down at you from the counter, he licked his chapped lips softly grinning as your eyes dimmed at the sight of him “One like this,” he uttered, Eren’s words echoed throughput your mind, his words crawled out with no care keeping his tone low. The distance between the two of you spoke louder than words, seeing your tension he took the pistol from your face and tucked it back into the waistband of his joggers, still spaced out Eren’s hands met your waist pulling you back into the space his legs made as he sat on the counter.

“A party like this” he uttered under his breath. Eren removed the gun from your face placing it back to the waistband of his joggers. The feeling of your heart sunk to your stomach his face stared down smug at your distress, “So what does that mean…?” your hands greeted your face as you stood more confused at before the feeling of the gun lingered on your skin. “it means you are involved in a gang activity,” Eren again pulled you closer towards the gap in between his legs his words echoed through you making you screw your face. Eren’s words sat in your brain the way they slipped out of his mouth with no precaution or hesitation. “Gang activity?” you quivered, slightly crawling out of your skin, his legs hit against you as he swung them against the counter; “Yeah the one Sasha is apart of.”

Gang activities? What does that even mean… Sasha brought me to a gang party? “Are you like in a gang?” confusion bubbled as Eren swung his legs hitting you along the way, his hands gripped onto the marble countertop. Eren’s slender eyes admired you with the same grin staying plastered over his face, the music of the house filled the small side room leaving you saying huh to all his questions.

Mid conversation the rooms door swung open to reveal Connie with a stern face on his look, closing through the door he walked towards Eren who faced him as confused as you were. Connie ushered Eren down from the counter and whispered something throughout his ear. Eren’s face dropped “Are you serious right now?” Eren snickered towards Connie. Reaching for the gun that laid on his waistband Eren gave the gun to Connie before giving a faint nod. Awkwardly you stood by the counter watching the two converse.

Connie left with the gun and closed the door behind him, “we’re gonna need to go.” He said approaching you making you feel small but trying your hardest to not show it and dismiss the feeling. “we? I’ll just find Sasha it’s cool” you blurted out inelegantly, “no WE need to go before-“Eren’s sentence was cut off by sirens that got closer by the second, Leaving you no time to react Eren took your arm and pulled you through a backdoor that led to a garage filled with sleek cars with dark tints which you thought were too dark to be legal. In the dimness of the garage, you saw Eren walk around what looked like a 2018 model of Karma Revero to open the passage side door to you. Slipping into the car seat a “Thanks” slipped out with a faint smile plastered on your face, ‘what the fuck is going on,’ you whispered to yourself before Eren hopped into the driver’s seat and swerved out of the garage.

The scent of cherries filled your nose as you sat longer in the car, red L.E.D lights went around the interior of the Revero. The car mats were engraved with the letters ‘E.J’ which appeared mostly everywhere, the floor mats, the glove compartment, and the gear box all somehow showcased the two letters. Eren drifted around corners making the sounds of house party and the sirens a distant memory; it was almost as if he was trying to dominate the gear shift when he pushed it every 2 seconds, he pushed it forward accelerating and indicating his lane changes. You couldn’t help admiring the way he focused himself on the road, his eyes stayed narrow it seemed like he was in his element as the loose hairs that stuck out of his bun flew with the harsh winds that snuck out of the window. His head moved with music causing him to turn it up more with the buttons on the wheel. As much as you hate to admit in falling for someone and first sight, the confidence Eren exhorted made you kind of gawk over him longer than you’d ever would. While you indulged in the sight in front of you, you failed to notice the blaring of your phone screen that flooded with texts,

‘I told you to stay in the basement, where are you??’

‘Y/N???’

‘Are you okay??’

Sasha’s texts flooded your phone with her panic, trying to soothe her anxiety you replied with a

‘I’m sorry about the whole basement thing, I’m okay though!’

Placing your phone down you felt a pair of eyes observing at you, “What?” you asked shifting your attention towards to Eren rather than Sasha who was blowing up your phone. “Nothing, you just seem tense,” Eren uttered while changing gears for the umpteenth time before looking back at you. “Where are you driving me-” you tried to say before you were interrupted by a phone call, you mouthed sorry towards him before answering the phone.

“Y/N are you okay? Where are you, and why is it so loud?” Sasha screamed over the phone, before replying you mimed to Eren to turn the music down allowing you to hear her better. “Sasha I told you I’m fine, I’m with someone don’t worry-” Eren grabbed the phone out of your phone out of your hands loose grip before shooting you a quick smirk that peered at the side of his mouth, leaving you twiddling with your thumbs. “Hey Sasha” he croaked while slowing the car down. Sasha’s voice reverberated throughout the phone almost as if she was lecturing him. “Sasha she’s fine, It’s not like I’m going to hurt her, calm down” ignoring his reassurance Sasha continued to complain over the phone. Awkwardly, you sat not knowing what Sasha was blaming him for your eyes looked at the skylines: the stars silently twinkled as the building lights stayed lit. Nothing but industrial buildings surrounded you along with people in suits exited and entered the beige buildings most on their phones in heated debates or carrying cases of information. “Sasha, I have no product on me, everything is with Connie, I’ll text you where to meet later, see you” Eren uttered into the phone before ending the call and tossing it back into your lap. You sat puzzled; the night went too quick all of these events occurring because Sasha wanted you to leave the house and now you sat in the passenger seat of a random guys car who’s driving you somewhere. Hesitantly, you shifted to face him watching him accelerate, “Do you like street race or something?”

“Sometimes why?” he admired you from the corner of his eye while driving round corners.

“You just control the car well, and you have a bunch of initials everywhere, I don’t think that’s normal… is it?”

“Hmm yeah the cars custom,”

“so what does E.J. mean?”

“Eren Jeager”

“So it’s your name? Jeager?”

Unbothered by your question he shot you a “yeah” before he swerved into a block of condos his face laid stern as he pulled up to a pair of black glazed gates scanning his thumb to open the gates.

While the gates rolled open you could see yourself grow with awe at the exterior Eren reversed the car leaving it in park, leaning over he opened the glove box and pulling out a set of keys. Eren left the car, jogging around to open the passenger side door for you offering his hand to pull you out. Taking him up on his offer you latched onto his hand and closed the door behind you, hoping a smile would show your appreciation for his sweet actions. Eren jetted up towards the condo doors leaving you aimlessly walking towards him like a lost dog. Shivers shot down your spine as the nights wind hitting you, leading you throughout the condos walls you ended up at his door. After fumbling with the keys Eren pushed through the door revealing the levelled apartment.

Ushering you through the door you were suddenly surrounded by the white and grey exterior, two sofa’s laid on the soft beige floor. Walking in further you felt yourself get lost in the décor of the house, leaving your stuff at the door you stood in the middle of the room staring at the glass roof. After staring in awe at the roof in the corner of your eye you could see Eren beacon you towards him, he was sat on a grey sofa that sat in the middle of the room. Following his gestures you sat down next to him making sure to leave a defined gap of space, noticing your barrier he he tried to engage with you.

“What’s your major?” Eren croaked before clearing his throat “psychology, what about you?” you could feel your nerves settle allowing you to sink more into the.

“ I don’t do university, well not anymore ,”

“Well what did you major in?”

“I also did psychology,” Eren sat unbothered, scrolling through his phone paying you no mind.

“Psychology!?” You asked, you shifted your weight to the side and faced Eren, his lips stayed pursed making his eyebrows furrow. Almost as if he could feel your eyes, he looked up to meet your shocked face; making his puzzled. “What? Do I not seem smart enough for a subject like that, is my brain too small?” Eren sarcastically asked while he jokingly pouted. “No… just a surprise that’s all,” Eren dropped his phone down turning all his attention to you, “but why would you do psychology” leaving emphasis on the ‘you’ .Anticipating his reply you leant your elbow onto the arm rest feeling Eren scoot a few inches closer.

Following on from before you could feel that flame that grew from earlier, his green eyes seemed fuelled by desire. “I don’t know, I like the way people think,”

“So why drop out?” You could feel yourself leaning in, he didn’t seem as cocky as earlier as he pulled his guard down.” Just got caught up in some things” his eyes dimmed slightly almost like he was ashamed of something. “Things like?” at this point after constant inching Eren’s arm snaked around you with his head resting against you” I just needed to pay off some student debts, so I got involved in things.”

“So, you’re a criminal?” silence fell between the two of you, hoping you didn’t hit a nerve “Yeah, what about it” his reply sounded empty almost heartless.

Everything Eren continued to talk but seemed as though he was crushed by something, his arms raised from you and while turning to face you.

The olive and hazelnut shades in his eyes flashed towards yours. Helping guide him you felt yourself lean in towards him, a smirk grew on your face as you left the rest up to him.

Taking initiative he pushed his lips onto yours the slight roughness of his colliding with the soft touch of yours.

Deepening the kiss Eren’s hands clutched onto your waist lifting you up to straddle onto him. Your legs straddled either side of his waist with his hands lacing themselves around your waist, making your arms meet the back of his neck. Eren slipped his tongue through a parted gap that was pursed into his lips, causing an overwhelming taste of cherries that swarmed your tastebuds. Eren’s lips escaped yours; grinning he made his way to the sensitive spots of your neck.

You could feel your body push onto his lean frame; the quiet, breathy moans twirled out of your mouth making its way into his ears. You could feel a heinous grin grow on your neck, your words fuelling his passion. Eren’s breath against your neck was hot and heavy, it wrapped around your neck making straight butterflies grown in you.

Eren clung onto your waist allowing yourself to grind on his lap, the friction between you and the thin material of his joggers allowed you to feel the stiffness of his cock grow beneath you. Abruptly, flipping you off his lap Eren aggressively placed you beneath him, his knee placed in between your legs barley grazing over your clothed cunt.

Stopping in his tracks, Eren lured over your face raising his eyebrows for approval.

“Are you okay with this?”

Wrapping your fingers around his hoodie strings that dangled in your face along with the key necklace that laid on his neck you nodded and smiled with your approval leaving everything up to him. Eren grinned making his way down towards your hips, his hands feeling rough against the sheerness of your skin as he trailed along it.

Eren slipped his hands up your dress rolling it up giving himself easier access. The blood rushed to your face the second you could feel Eren tease his way through. He sloppily kissed against the inside of your thighs, skipping your obviously aching core. He laughed as you struggled to contain yourself the closer and harder he kissed along your thighs. Paying extra attention to your sounds he went softer in some places; ignoring other places.

“Eren please?” you whispered under a groan.

Noticing your struggle of speech, Eren attempted to prolong your struggle by circling his thumb around your clothed clit. Your legs squirmed at the sudden impact of his thumb. Tired of the same movements he clawed down your underwear and left it on the side.

“Fuck princess,” Eren uttered from under you.

Out of embarrassment you could feel your face flushing, the feeling quickly rushed away the second Eren’s tongue took one swift lick up your sensitive bud your back arching at the sudden wave of pleasure.

The circling around your sensitive bud almost sent you into overdrive. With your hand gripped around his hair multiple small gasps left your mouth, the hold on

his hair getting rougher loosening his bun.

With his bun falling out and his chestnut locks wrapped around your hand, Eren slipped through two stern digits into you, your walls tightening around his two fingers.

“Oh fuck Eren-“ you moaned out, the second you adjusted to the pace of him.

“Fuck you feel good” Eren groaned under his breath.

Coming close to your high, the inhales you took became sharper with your thighs aching to close. Realising you were close Eren pulled away, lifting his head up- his hair flew down his face resting against his shoulders.

Pulling you back onto his lap, you straddled onto him a sweat-filled mess, Eren removed his hoodie and pulled down his joggers slightly just above his knees.

Catching his own breath, Eren clutched onto your neck loosely- pulling you down making his lips connect to your ear.

“Can you ride princess?”

His words hit you straight at your core making you hum in approval. Pulling his boxers down- you raised yourself onto him inching down slowly allowing you to take him whole.

You grinned as Eren groaned tilting his head back as you clenched around him. Breathless, you rocked yourself into him feeling the top of cock kiss your cervix.

“Fuck, you’re so tight” his wrists clutched harder against your hips, his nails ever so slightly digging in. His hands slipped down your waist , his palms growing with sweat with every thrust he pushed into you.

Ungodly words left you and Eren’s mouth, his hair clung onto his face due to his sweat. His words becoming more degrading the closer he got , your nails clung at his back grasping for support. With your mouth close at his ear- every beg you had for him went through his ear.

Words of how you wanted him and only him, how good he felt , the way his moans made you hit the edge.

“So you’re a whore for my dick?” he breathed out, smirking at you as you pulled your head out of his neck. Nodding at his statement you took in one of the last thrusts he pulled Eren lifted your face to meet his. His face filled with lust

“Use your words princess,” his eyes drew to your lips waiting for your answer

“y-yes” you stirred out.

Reaching your limit, you took in one of the last thrusts as your sight turned white with no recollection, soon after reality hit back at you, you could feel Eren twitch violently against you. Wanting to eye contact he engaged his eyes with yours, making a few looks at you before asking,

“Tell me where you want it kitten,” Butterflies hit you as you said “inside.”

Not waiting another second Eren used this to realise himself into you, the warmth poured down your walls as Eren shot his head back.

A few minutes went by of you staying warmed onto him. Lifting yourself off, you asked for the the bathroom and made your way there.

After a few minutes of cleaning up, you returned to see Eren standing by the door with his hair thrown up again and a stern look on his face.

“what’s the issue?”

“Sasha”

“what about her?”

“There was a shipment issue,”

“A shipment issue? What’s that ?”

“It doesn’t matter we need to go come on”

[the-bar-sinister]

In Justice We Trust (95196 words) by thesavagesabretooth

With Simon Blackquill and Athena Cykes assigned as their psychologists, the Phantom and Fulbright must grapple with their identity, their deeds, their future, and their love for the twisted samurai whom they betrayed.

All the while, Edgeworth and Wright find their relationship tested as they walk the narrow path between pursuing real justice, and the dark age of the law.

-

December 25, 7:45 am

Gumshoe followed miserably along with the furious Apollo Justice as the lawyer slammed his way through the hotel, looking for Mr. Edgeworth.

“Hey, pal..” Gumshoe slumped along at top speed after Apollo, as fast as his worn out old boots could carry him. “I know you ain’t happy, but let’s try to breathe huh?”

"I'm breathing," Apollo said– despite sounding quite breathless, and his face being quite red. "I'm very aware that I'm breathing right now, Detective Gumshoe. Where can I find the chief prosecutor?"

“I’m gonna be honest with you, pal. You lookin’ the way you do right now? I ain’t sure it’s the best idea to tell ya. You look like you’re two steps from a Third Degree Murder.”

Gumshoe didn’t like seeing the man this way. Apollo was a good kid, but worked up the way he was now, he was likely to hurt someone. Lash out, like that Aura woman had back at the space center with her hostages. Or like too many crimes he’d seen in the past.

“Would you want Trucy to see you like this, kid?” Sometimes you had to make an emotional bid to calm someone down. Remind them of something important, friends, family, loved ones. 

Apollo paused in his stride for a moment– but then kept marching. "No. Not that she hasn't seen me angry. But sometimes anger is important, Gumshoe. I'm not going to hurt anyone. I would never do that– unlike some people."

Maybe Gumshoe had gotten through to him at least a little bit– because his steps had slowed, and while the snap in his voice was still there, it was a bit less sharp.

“I get it, pal. Trust me. I’ve seen plenty done in anger…” He hurried up to put his hand on his shoulder with a sigh. “Just try not to say nothin’ you’ll regret in the mornin’.” 

Apollo stopped again, and he rubbed his shoulders as he stood there, rolling them under his hand. "Gumshoe– thanks for trying to look out for me. But… you really have no idea what I'm going through right now."

“Yeah, that’s true pal. I mean, I dunno the specifics…and I dunno much, I ain’t a bright guy…but I can tell you’re still hurtin’ from losin’ someone.” He rubbed his neck. “I felt the same way when I thought Mr. Edgeworth had gone off an’ killed himself.” 

That seemed to throw Apollo for a loop. "What?"

Gumshoe’s rugged face flushed under the scruff of his beard, and he rubbed his chin with a sigh “...back after he an’ Phoenix Wright had their first clashes in court, and the truth came out about his mentor Manfred Von Karma…Mr. Edgeworth and I were…are…real close. Always have been since I was assigned to him and since. He’s…”

He trailed off… important to me. A lot like Maggey is. She knew how much him and Mr. Edgeworth had shared together. “He and I worked close together. But after that, he vanished. Left a suicide note or somethin’ that sounded just like it, and vanished into the night for long enough we almost declared him dead. Broke my fuckin’ heart, kid. I was fallin’ to pieces. Woulda, if it weren’t for Maggey.” 

Apollo was quiet for a moment. "Gumshoe– I'm sorry. I never knew about that. It uh, well I guess it explains some of the comments Phoenix has made about Miles before…"

He rubbed his chin. "But he wasn't really gone though… how long did you think?"

“Too damn long.” Gumshoe murmured. “he wasn’t really gone, but for those months of searching, he may as well have been. I didn’t think I’d see him again. So…yeah. I dunno how you feel, kid. Not exactly. But I got some idea, okay?” 

"Maybe, but…" he rubbed the back of his neck. "Even when you thought Mr. Edgeworth was gone, you didn't think he'd been murdered. You weren't– you weren't being asked to go to work with his killer, Gumshoe, and pretend nothing was wrong. Don't you feel like that's a bridge too far?"

“I dunno, pal.” Detective Gumshoe set his jaw.

“I’ve seen some things over the years. Every time I think ‘maybe this is a bridge too far’, I think to myself ‘but what’s on the other side’. I dunno why Mr. Edgeworth invited you on this knowin’ you’d have to face the guy…maybe he thought you’d be even angrier if you found out, and weren’t invited at all.” 

"I don't know what the hell he was thinking," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Which is exactly why I want to find out. But– you're a dependable kind of guy, Gumshoe. If you think I should wait to ask until later, I'll do that."

Gumshoe patted his shoulder “...If you wanna talk to him now, I can tell ya where he is. Just…try not to lose your cool. You ain’t gonna get answers if you barge in there seein’ red.” 

"You're right." He set his jaw. "You'll see him today, right?"

“Of course. He’s supposed ta check in with me before heading out to give me instructions.” 

"Alright. Tell him I want to talk to him tonight. Tell him to come see me. You can tell him what it's about, too."

Gumshoe nodded. 

“you got it pal, I’ll pass it along to him nice an’ proper. Alright?” He patted his shoulder again, and Apollo put his hand on his for a moment. “Take care of yourself till then, alright?” 

"Yeah Gumshoe. I'm gonna try to do that." He took a deep breath. "Thanks. Really."

Gumshoe gave him his best chummy smile. “Any time, kid. You ever need anything, feel free to hit up your friendly neighborhood Gumshoe, eh?” 

December 25, 9:00 am

Simon stood back and assessed the scene after they'd finished their initial tour of the crime scene.

Two cars, the first of which had– apparently, according to the tire marks– swerved in front of the second car which then hit it. There was a second streak of tire marks from the second car where it had attempted, futilely, to brake at the last second. Both cars had burned so hot, and so long that they were destroyed and almost unrecognizable. There was a body in the front driver's seat of each car, both of which were heavily destroyed by the same fire. 

Ema's analysis had not turned up any finger prints– unsurprising, given the fire– but she had discovered traces of unburned gasoline leading up to the scene of the two cars. And an assessment with luminol had turned up the most surprising feature of the case yet– a few drops of blood on the pavement between the two cars, which someone had attempted to wipe away.

And now that they were certain there were no fingerprints to miss, Ema was assisting in opening the cars, and examining what was left of the bodies.

Athena had been logging the entire investigation into Widget’s note function, drawing lines and notes between photographs taken with the small device in a rather interesting expose on how she conducted her investigations for the defense. She’d seemed most interested in the blood, writing out theories on exactly what it might mean while Ema worked with Agent Kelso.

Ema wrenched the door open with the agent’s help, with Ema holding her arm out to stop Kelso from moving the body until she took a picture.

“There. Lay them out on the ground. I’ll begin the examination.” 

Halblicht stood to the side as Kelso moved the body out of the car under Ema's instructions, and Simon noticed him watching the agent carefully. He'd noticed, in fact, that Halblicht had been watching both interpol agents carefully since the investigation had begun. He wondered what was on his mind– perhaps he was concerned that the agents might recognize him?

Whatever it was, it was of little consequence now, while they were investigating. Frankly as long as Halblicht didn't try to flee, or to tamper with the evidence– both of which were seeming less and less likely– Simon didn't care what he did.

He was loath to admit it, but he was almost enjoying the opportunity to work the case with the man, and with Athena.

Halblicht's gaze flicked from Kelso to the burned remains, which were, admittedly, difficult to look at for Simon. The monstrous things that fire did to the human body.

"Uuuh, is anyone seeing what I'm seeing?" Bobby asked after a moment.

Kelso looked up as Ema began her examination, starting from the head and going down with a magnifying glass and tweezers to peel away what little remained of clothing and charred flesh when she needed to.

“Seeing what, Detective Halblicht? The dead man? Yeah, I do.” she’d taken to flipping the bullet again, the clicking of metal on metal ringing out adding a sort of background track to the proceedings.

“Mm…if you’re talking about the bullet wound to the face, yes. I’ll work on extracting the bullet when I’m done with my preliminary examination of the rest of the body, “ Ema murmured from her work.

Athena looked a bit sick to her stomach as she glanced at Halblicht. “I haven’t gotten close, what is it?” 

Halblicht snapped into his ridiculous Bobby Fulbright salute at Athena. "Ms. Cykes– there's what appears to be a large bullet hole in the front of this man's skull."

"Not what one usually expects from a car wreck, admittedly," Simon drawled.

“Not unless it was an execution.” Ema said casually. “You sometimes see it, someone gets close and fires through the windshield to eliminate the incapacitated target…except.”

She pointed with her tweezers to the bullet wound, “it’s not a close range shot. This was from a distance.”

Athena frowned. “...now that’s interesting, isn’t it? I wonder if we can find any other bullet holes? And I wonder if it ties into the blood that was wiped up.”

Kelso whistled low, and adjusted the sunglasses in her hair again. “yikes. I guess we knew it wasn’t gonna be a cut and dry crash, but…”

"Yikes is right!" Bobby agreed. "It's too bad that all the windows were destroyed– they would have had something to say."

"Wouldn't they just?" Simon agreed. "The entry wound is in the front of the skull, yes?"

"Sure is, Prosecutor Blackquill!"

He touched his chin thoughtfully. "That tells us something in itself, doesn't it. If he was shot while he was driving– perhaps that's why the car swerved."

“Yeah..” Kelso nodded as she knelt down to look at the body with Ema. “I think you’re right, Prosecutor Blackquill. The sudden shot to the head probably caused him to slump, turning the wheel sharply to the side and colliding with the barrier.”

Athena bit her lip. 

“So someone was in front of them? And fired the gun from the distance to kill him.” She looked back at the other car “then what about the second car? It collided with the first, right?”

Ema had gone quiet again, working with the tweezers and her small medical kit to extract the bullet from the dead agent’s skull. 

Halblicht crossed his arms, and narrowed his eyes with a very cold expression in his face suddenly. "If that's the case, then it's likely the second car is unrelated to the case. A bystander casualty incurred due to the sudden wreck of the agents car."

"An interesting theory, detective," Simon said, considering it. "And a decent one– if not for one problem."

"Sir?"

"If this car belongs to an unrelated bystander– where's the second agent? There were two agents, and two agents are missing."

"Ah. Then perhaps the agents were in two cars after all?

“They could have decided that going separately somehow lowered suspicion?” Kelso suggested, the bullet reappearing and flipping through her fingers once more. “and give the opportunity for, if one was shaken, the other to continue to monitor unsuspected?”

Athena’s nose wrinkled. 

“...I don’t know, Agent. I think I’d like to examine the second body and car first. Agent Ash says that it’s almost certain that they took one car. I can’t imagine they’d have the time or inclination to grab a second car if the target was already heading out…right?” She suddenly looked unsure “then again, I’m no espionage expert.”

“I’ve got the bullet.” Ema announced. 

"Espionage tactics aside, what can we observe about the bullet, Skye-dono?" Simon asked. He noticed that Halblicht had crossed his arms, and gone quiet again.

Ema held up the ruined slug in her tweezers. “It's a pistol round. Typical handgun 9mm. Damaged from the heat and entry, but we might be able to make out rifling if we sent it in for testing.” 

"A pistol round, shot from a distance, in the front of the skull," Simon nodded. "Interesting. Is there anything else significant about the remains at this time?"

“Not really. Fire did its job admirably,” Ema huffed with a frown as she stood. “he was shot by a pistol from the distance in the front of the skull, and then the body was all but destroyed in the fire.”

“Brutal.” Kelso murmured with a shake of her head.

“I think we should get looking at the second body..” Athena said “...especially given the blood on the scene. It’s outside, between the cars…which is interesting.” 

"It's very interesting," Simon agreed. "Let's have a look at the second body, and see what conclusions we can draw from it."

Halblicht turned, quietly, suddenly snapping into action again. "I'll be happy to take the body out of the car then, if you'd like, Prosecutor Blackquill."

Simon raised his eyebrows. Why was he offering that?

"I don't see why not. Agent Kelso should only be required to get her shirt so dirty," he drawled. He resolved to watch Halblicht carefully. Surely he wasn't going to tamper with the evidence.

“Well I’m not gonna say no.” Kelso smiled. “...this shirt’s got enough tragedy smeared on it from the first one. If you want a hand, lemme know, sir.”

Athena’s head tilted up, and she seemed to listen very carefully as Halblicht spoke…she even paused in her note taking. 

Halblicht slipped his black gloves from his pocket, and onto his hands. "At least I'm in the appropriate color for being covered in ash, hm? Ms. Ema– would you please open the car?"

“You got it, Rob,” Ema nodded as she tightened her own gloves and grabbed the door handle. “On three. One…two…”

She wrenched the door open with the groan of charred and melted metal scraping together. 

Halblicht held back as the photo was taken of the car, and then he very carefully looked the body over. 

"There seems to be another gunshot wound in this one," he said. "Possibly two. I'll move it now."

“Good, once you get it on the ground I’ll give it the in depth examination.” Ema said, seeming more alive than ever now that she was in her element.

Kelso stood back, flipping the bullet between her fingers again as she asked. “Want me to investigate the interior of the car while you work on that, ma’am?” 

As Halblicht gently removed the body, he looked over his shoulder and caught Simon's eye. To his surprise, he noticed Halblicht shake his head very slightly, as if in answer to a question. 

Simon frowned, not knowing quite if he was making the right assumption, but–

"Why don't we look together, Agent Kelso? Two heads, as they say, are better than one." He stepped around toward the other side of the car.

“They say that!” Kelso laughed cheerfully, before waving her hand, the bullet vanishing down her sleeve. “If you asked Agent Ash, she’d probably say it’s at least better than just mine, anyway.” she lightly rapped her knuckles on the side of her head. “let’s take a peek.”

Athena tilted her head, and her brow furrowed as she listened to the conversation. She glanced back. “Actually, there was something I wanted to ask Agent Ash about the cars…” 

"What was that, Ms. Cykes?" Halblicht asked as he lay the body down on the pavement next to the other.

“I wanted to ask Agent Ash something about the cars.” She spoke up “...their procurement , specifically. And if there’s any way to track and ID cars used by Interpol agents. I think we can solve the ‘two bodies, two cars’ discrepancy that way.” 

As Simon busied himself looking in the car's passenger seat, he thought that that was a very interesting question indeed.

December 25, 8:20 am

When Phoenix, Miles and Kay met up with Gumshoe and with the girls in the hotel dining room, the first thing that happened was a minor change of plans. Trucy invited Kay to go see Klavier and his commercial with them.

Miles looked at Kay with a raised eyebrow. "Well, Ms. Faraday– it's up to you. Admittedly, I think I have enough backup for this investigation if you'd rather."

Indeed, Miles had rarely felt as well backed up as he did with both Phoenix and Gumshoe there.

“If you’re sure, boss.” Kay had said, glancing between them. In the end, the siren call of bothering a rock star all day won out, and she’d agreed to go along with Trucy and Pearl…leaving the trio to do their work.

“I won’t lie, sir.” Gumshoe said, “I kinda appreciate havin’ something to do today.” 

"And I'll appreciate having your… unique skills and way of looking at the world, Detective," Miles drawled with amusement. "Enjoy the day, Kay. Make sure to get some pictures."

“You got it, sir!” Kay snapped a salute. “I’ll steal you one of his guitars, alright?”

“Don’t…Don’t say that to us, Miss Kay.” Gumshoe pleaded “I don’t wanna have to testify in court.” 

With the pleasantries out of the way, and Phoenix securing multiple promises from Trucy and Pearl that they'd check in throughout the day, the prosecutor, the attorney, and the detective headed out toward the parking lot.

"Nostalgic, in a way, isn't it?" Miles mused.

“Sure is, sir. Reminds me of all them times you and I solved mysteries overseas.” he chuckled richly. “Guess ya still get the itch now and again eh?” 

"Can't keep Edgeworth away from a good mystery," Phoenix chuckled.

"Or a bad one." Miles smirked and shook his head. "You know, I'm not sure the three of us have all been on one investigation together like this."

“Nah , every time we managed to get on one of these, Phoenix was off fuckin’ around, sir.” 

"Hey, that's not true!" Phoenix complained. "I was not the one 'fucking around' off solving mysteries over seas. Besides, the three of us have been on plenty of investigations together– just not exactly on the same side."

"And thus, not in the same room at the same time, Wright," Miles tutted. "So this is a fairly novel experience."

They strolled outside into the cold air where their breath came out in puffs, and Miles headed toward where he'd been told his rental car for the day would be parked.

Gumshoe laughed, clapping his hands together. “Two she, Phoenix. Ya got a good point.”

He had probably meant to say touche…but the word was very much lost in translation.

Miles was about to speak up to correct him, when he gave pause, looking at the car next to his own. The driver's side window was wide open, and he immediately noticed that it wasn't merely rolled down, but that there were specs of glass littered in the space where it would have rolled into.

"Oh dear. I think someone's car's been robbed."

Gumshoe’s brow furrowed. 

“...That ain’t good. That ain’t good at all.” He leaned forward to inspect it with a rub of his chin. ‘We should report it, yeah? “ 

"Of course we should," Miles said. And they should– but his curiosity was piqued.

Phoenix caught up. "Uh-oh, I know that tone."

“Oh ho ho!” Gumshoe rubbed his hands together. “is it time to meddle, Mr. Edgeworth, sir??” 

Edgeworth flushed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well– as curious as I am to do so, we have more pressing business today. Let's take down the license plate and give the information to the front desk. If something hasn't been done about it by the time we get back…"

Phoenix slapped Edgeworth companionably on the shoulder. "Then we'll indulge your meddling, Edgeworth."

He made a noise and adjusted his cravat. "Quite."

[sokkas1mp]

I gonna break in this acocunt with me being angry about something that doesn't really matter (very fitting for tumblr if you ask me), this article.

First: "And I’m sorry to open with this, but part of that is due to the age difference between them. Two years is hardly worlds apart (I’m personally working with four), but a 12-year-old boy and a 14-year-old girl are. Especially the way these two are drawn. Not to be too voyeuristic about Y7 cartoons, but Katara has clearly gone through puberty, while Aang hasn’t. There is something just…off, about a sixth grade boy having a full on make-out sesh with a high school girl."

This argument is one of the most stupid ones if you ask me, because it blatantly ignores the culture we have been presented by the show. I can understand why people find this weird, but we have to try not to look at it as if its our society, because its not. In A:tla, specifically the water tribes, 16 is marrying age. Right there, our "age norms" (idk what else to call it) are very different. And there are no divisions between ages in their world like we have with middle and high school. To me, two people are fit to be together based on their maturity, not their age. That's why 45 & 40 is not the same as 15 & 10, or 20 & 15. This is the same for Kataang. They have very similar life experiences and matured together, literally side by side, so a two year ago gap is irrelevant.

Second: "...Katara took on a very maternal role with Aang. Sure, she’s a caretaker and sort of a “mom friend,” but it’s a bit more than that. She served as his literal guardian during the show’s run—there’s just no other way to look at it. By the third episode, she called herself his “family,” and later even went on to role play as his mother to get him out of trouble at school. Aang, meanwhile, was… Well, I wouldn’t say “immature” for his age, […] However, Katara is 14 going on 25, while Aang is just, Aang."

There's a compilation of Katara doing thing with Aang that if someone saw a mother doing with her son they would call it incest:

Katara definitely acts motherly towards Aang, but that is just her nature. She is more than just motherly with him. And some people like to call the check kisses familial (which is kinda weird imo), but we know Katara herself doesnt think that:

"Easy there, big brother" She pushes Sokka away. Not to mention, this was about a scene or two before she kisses Aang on the check.

Calling someone close to you your family does not mean you see them in the same way you see your parents/siblings. And Sokka played Aang's father in that scene, but we aren't sitting here using that as evidence to call him Aang's paternal figure.

Something Aang haters forget (or chose to ignore) is that being lighthearted and goofy does not equal immature. Yes, Aang does some juvenile things, but that shouldn't take away from his growth and maturity.

Third: "In fact, in the last season, Katara was shown to be uncomfortable each time Aang kisses her, and even went as far as to tell him to back off with the romantic stuff in the episode before the finale, because she was confused about how she felt. [*new paragraph*] Yet, in the end, she just trots up and blushes at Aang, than happily makes out with him when he goes for it,"

Katara initiated 2/4 of the kataang kisses (not including the check kisses). The kiss in The Cave of Two Lovers and the kiss in the finale. Yes, she's the one that "goes for it" in the finale (she also initiates the hug). She only pulls away once out of the 3 times we see a kiss end (this would be excluding the kiss in The Cave of Two Lovers). She wasn't confused about her feelings, she didn't want to have to worry about a relationship when they were nearing the end of the war.

Fourth: "The post-canon comics only furthered the lack of exploration of her feelings in this relationship"

Fifth: "[referencing a scene in The Promise in which Katara is jealous of a fanclub being around Aang] "I'm sorry, this amazing, adult communication is blowing me away"

The are both still teenagers, who have zero previous relationship experience. Also, Aang had no ill intentions and Katara recognized it.

Sixth: [refencing Katara's role in The Legend of Korra] "Did Katara want to do anything other than sit in a healing hut and be known for having Aang's kids?"

This is another argument that just pisses me off. You can not use Katara's lifestyle in her 80s (she is 85 in s1) as judgement for her adulthood. It's purely assumption based. Constantly this author assumes that because she is in a relationship with Aang, Katara would drop her whole personality. What? Katara would not and could not be forced to do something or conform to some label and Aang wouldn't let it get to that point either. He would squash any idea that she is just "The Avatar's wife" or "The mother of the Avatar's children" the minute he heard it.

Seven: [comparing Katara's reaction to Aang The Desert to Aang's reaction to Katara in The Southern Raiders] "You'll spend a long time looking for her condescending tones. "Anger won't help, Aang," Katara never said, because she got that he was processing something painful and needed to sort it out himself. This difference in behavior is something that would be really fitting for a twelve year old boy to learn and understand. There's just no indication that he ever did."

Maybe I'm remembering wrong, but I don't remember Aang being condescending towards Katara. He was offering his advice because he knew her and knew that she would regret doing what she thought was right when her judgement was clouded by anger. And guess what. He was right. He never forced anything on her, either. Sure, he was a bit more pushy than he could've been, but in the end he let her go on the trip with no complaints. He even agreed that this was something she had to do.

Eighth: [referencing The Ember Island Players] "When the actor says 'Wait! I thought you were the Avatar's girl', Aang agrees. Katara is his."

You know damn well Aang doesn't see Katara as just his. And she's give him PLENTY of reason to believe that his feelings are reciprocated (which they are).

Ninth: "It's the story of a woman who swallows everything lest the man she's interested in has to learn anything about his behavior that violates her boundaries."

Ha! You said she was interested in him.

But in all seriousness, you mentioned how Katara stood her ground and told Aang that she was confused, but apparently now she's swallowing her feeings.

Tenth: [talks about the cloud babies daddy issues]

I don't disagree with what is said here, for the most part, but I don't think it is a reflection on Aang and Katara's relationship.

Eleventh: "... given what what we got with Kataang, it's completely unsurprising that Aang and Katara's parenthood/adult life was defined by a lack of communication and availability, at least from what we can tell. This also puts Katara's choice to immediately moved to the South Pole once Aang died in perspective; perhaps the city he poured all his energy into, at the cost of his family, held some bitter memories."

Once again with the lack communication. We can't use the early years of their relationship to determine their whole relationship. Also, there wasn't consistently a lack of communication, you just pointed out one time and ran with it.

We don't know at what point Katara moved back to the South Pole, but there are plenty of reasons for Katara to leave Air Temple Island:

a) Her son moving in/or planning to move in with his family.

b) She was no longer needed in the city and thus had no need to stay.

c) She wanted to go back to her native home for comfort after the love of her life died at a relatively early age.

d) The next Avatar was discovered and she came home to train them.

That's all. Thank you for reading my unnecessary rant if you made it this far, and I just want to close out with a few things:

- There were some things in the article that I did not include for the fear of this becoming a novel of me repeating myself.

- I agree with most thing said in the final segment of the the article. Most, not all.

- I appreciate the author for not trying to shove Zutara in just because Kataang wasn't there. That is becoming increasingly uncommon, so it was nice to see.

[worldcakecakecake]

Feliciano and the King of Hearts

Chosen by the gods as the Queen of Hearts from the moment of birth,  we follow Feliciano’s story as he grows into royal life, learns to rule,  go against age old customs, and his relationship with his husband to  be, the King of Hearts.

Chapter 1 I  Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4 I Chapter 5 I Chapter 6I Chapter 7 I Chapter 8 IChapter 9I Chapter 10I Chapter 11I Chapter 12 I Chapter 13 I Chapter 14 I Chapter 15 I Chapter 16 I Chapter 17 I Chapter 18 I Chapter 19I Chapter 20 I Chapter 21 I Chapter 22 I Chapter 23 I Chapter 24 I Chapter 25 I Chapter 26 I Chapter 27 I Chapter 28I Chapter 29 I Chapter 30 I Chapter 31 I Chapter 32 I Chapter 33 I Chapter 34 I Chapter 35 I Chapter 36 I Chapter 37I chapter 38 I Chapter 39 I Chapter 40 I Chapter 41 I Chapter 42 I Chapter 43 I Chapter 44 I Chapter 45 I Chapter 46I Chapter 47 I Chapter 48 I Chapter 49 I Chapter 50 I Chapter 51 I Chapter 52 I Chapter 53 I Chapter 54 I Chapter 55 I Chapter 56 I Chapter 57 I Chapter 58 I Chapter 59 I Chapter 60I Chapter 61 I Chapter 62 I Chapter 63 I Chapter 64  I Chapter 65 I Chapter 66 I Chapter 67 I Chapter 68  I Chapter 69 I Chapter 70 I Chapter 71 I Chapter 72 I Chapter 73 I Chapter 74 I Chapter 75 I Chapter 76 I Chapter 77 I Chapter 78 I Chapter 79 I Chapter 80

Look! A chapter! HOOZA! SO DARN CLOSE OMG! Yes, like always, I apologize for taking so long, tons of things, as usual. I hope the chapter makes do for it...I guess. Enjoy!

                                                              Chapter 81

And celebration rang, with shouts and applauses, the swing of flags and surviving weapons decorating the field in wonderful splendor. Some jumped, danced, complete strangers embraced one another or even kissed in the passion of lovers. Roderich and Francis couldn’t help but to cry, Elizabeta, Lili and Vash embracing them…not long before they joined in the same tears. Alfred took as many as he could in for the largest group hug he intended to make, much to Arthur’s distaste of being squeezed between many of his people. As Yao was trying to find his escape, he bumped into Ivan, who proceeded to take him into a large embrace, the very one the Spadian Jack was trying to avoid. Yet as Ivan took his lip…he didn’t find himself minding any longer. He wrapped his arms around the Clubian King’s neck and let himself that beautiful bliss.

 The three Heartian royals stood alone in this sudden feast. Feliciano had already commanded that none were to come close, and so they yet remained in their field were Khaos’s last traces had been, still in the same silence that had welcomed them when Khaos was at last officially defeated.

 “What are we waiting for?” Kiku asked, because indeed that was what it felt like they were doing, especially with Feliciano looking on as if…expecting someone to come.

 “Is this about that one thing you asked us to protect? That Khaos had?” Feliciano nodded to Ludwig, taking steps forward, right towards this sun rise. Ludwig and Kiku stayed behind and watched, giving Feliciano some space to breathe and focus.

 “…he’s here,” he whispered after the silence he wanted was reached.

 It wasn’t a message for Ludwig, for Kiku, for anybody there.

 “…he’s here…I know he’s here…” he whispered on, a hand reaching so it could focus on one spot.

 The wind that blew now was different, the energy that came ancient, along with the magic and form that even to Ludwig and Kiku, felt as the arise of a person. And there, in a sudden flash, there was a red ball of fire, fitting along with the sun, potent and shinning to them like another burning star.

 Feliciano sighed, smiled…and even began to cry. “He’s here…He’s here…” he still repeated.

 Something suddenly changed in the air, like an earthquake…but nothing shook, nothing trembled, magic and energy just rained, at first, invisible, like a force that brought everyone to silence as their eyes came to the Heartian royals, to the center of what was occurring. Then there was flashes of light, golden and glittering, blowing and seeming to scream into the skies. Feliciano was engulfed in it, in fact, from him it turned larger, a calming fire blazing, arising into the skies, taking the whole field, in beautiful reds and golds that the Heartian Queen helped to make tall, letting his halo, his marks, his wings, shine on up. It was a storm that reminded them of when Khaos had first turned, but this…although powerful and indeed fearsome at first, it was gentle, caring, a beauty that instead of turning away all, it brought and made them aw in a combine admiration. A form became evident, gigantic and towering, with flowers, jewels and silk to cover…her…in grace. From the rains of this colorful and royal feast, she came, showing herself in all her pure form. She was as high as Khaos had been, looking down to all her people with deep fondness in large ruby eyes. Ah, she was gorgeous. Her curled hair fell down to her knees, crowned with a large golden pillar halo that matched well with the specks of gold in her long red dress, tainted like stars, like constellations.  Her skin was marked in long lines of vines and symbols, identical to the ones Feliciano held. They also shared a set of wings, although hers were with a hint of rose, much larger, surely to extend to the next mountains if she spread them open. And then the structure of her face, her smile…Feliciano, Lovino, Renata and all the rest of the Valenti knew she was family. For a moment, they were reminded of Augusto and understood then why he had the perfect namesake. Even as she stood gigantically over them, especially when she kneeled, her reach to the ground soft like wind, none were intimidated, all smiled and welcomed the presence of an Ace.

 “…Nonna Augusta,” Feliciano greeted her so meekly once the release was completed.

 She looked to him with deep fondness, kneeling and bringing her head much closer to his. Ludwig and Kiku were startled slightly back at being right before a large face like this, if even so beautiful.

 “Feliciano…” and she smiled with a ring that surely brought music to the whole valley, “l’hai fatto.” He shook at the realization once again…completed and fulfilled. “A mission that I set upon a thousand years ago, one in which the state of your world and mine was held at a delicate balance. I harbored power through my family, generation by generation, until it was with you that the next alignment found itself with. It was much to put that responsibility on only you, so young and still so new to a ruling of a kingdom. Yet, it was by your hand that it was done. With a belief and effort that I was proud to witness, see it grow and now…I watch as it shines.” Feliciano blushed, so intense that he wanted to hide it, not being able to continue his stare with his great grandmother.

 “Of course, I also owe congratulations and compliments to the King and Jack.” Ludwig and Kiku startled, more so when this great Ace bowed to them. “Your own growth, I paid attention to, and it is worthy of your position.” And they couldn’t answer, as nervous and blushing as Feliciano. “And the others…” she turned to meet their gazes in the crowd, their knees shaking and eyes widened as if taking blame. She couldn’t help the chuckle. “Brave you have been, courageous and a great loyalty shown to your kingdom. Your respective Ace I know is just as proud.” They wanted to faint from the honor. Even Alfred was left speechless and without a high comment to say.

 “And your people, who without every piece of help they could give…we would not stand victorious here now. I thank you all. You have brought to this world a peace that has never been, new and promising. Darkness has disappeared and now light will always be prominent.” Shy cheers and applauses spread, part of the crowds wanted to remain respectful, as presentable as possible for an Ace. Augusta partly rolled her eyes at it, Feliciano giggled at such a human presentation. It was just the ring that brought her giant gaze back to him again.

 “You have freed me from your vessel. No doubt you learned it in the Eternal Reserved.” Feliciano nodded sheepishly, worried that perhaps it was something she had not wished.  “Why so?” She asked and for a moment Feliciano forgot every single language he knew. He needed a moment to bring his words back, leaving a silence that left everyone else with tension.

 “I know…you would want to meet him again in person…” was all he could utter.

 Ah…of course.

 Her expression suddenly changed to something so unsure and weak, a pain that had been there for thousands of years presented. She then turned to the small ball of fire that Feliciano had brought only minutes ago. It looked so insignificant and small to all, yet for her, who reached and engulfed it in the palm of her hand with care, love deep in her eyes, making her flourish the more, it was a worth higher than any gold. She smiled, with a hint of a lake forming in her eyes, standing once again to bring this light closer to her heart. There, between folds of satin, lay the most prominent and beautiful of all the designs on her body. Feliciano could recognize it as the most ancient Heart symbol and the light fitted perfectly to its art.

 “Romulus…Romulus…” she prayed his name in relief, caressing it as if he was fully there.

 He was…he was truly there.

 Ludwig and Kiku exchanged glances with wide eyes and mouths.

 “You have to thank Ludwig and the Beilschmidts,” and he turned to his husband with such pride, like he was the one that did the magic. Ludwig startled and for a moment didn’t understand his part in it. “They carried his soul along, for just the time that you passed through my lineage. It was corrupted…and you saw how Khaos used it for his own purpose.” A dark memory that brought gruesome shivers to Ludwig. He turned his attention to Augusta’s light and suddenly it was gone. “But he learned to control it, to fight against it…and together we purified it…united it with another part Khaos still held and he is now…with you.” Feliciano was joyous, and he knew his great grandmother more so, letting the light bounce and letting herself laugh. Truly a wonder.

 “Oh, Feliciano. I could give you the whole world for doing all of this…and in fact.” There was indeed a reward that was to be given, and released or not, she would make do Feliciano received it. She extended her large arm long, closed her eyes, and called forward a strong magic, potent and surely meant to break apart the very line that divided their world from others. It was the kind of power that not even Feliciano knew or didn’t think he would ever reach enough to master. This was portal opening, Augusta with an ease creating a large window enough to give her enormous frame passage. Other than just an opening, the edges were decorated and strengthened with beautifully carved pillars, pots and statues that rained on magic and light, with flowers vines of red and gold that bloomed before their eyes and seemed to dance at the welcome of their Ace. Inside its frame was just light, reflecting and glimmering in pinks wonderfully. What was on the other side, they couldn’t see, but it awaited them patiently, yet the three royals were hesitant, as if a bar was still being held in front of them.

 Augusta smiled at them, “come.” A barefoot went easily in, just as the waters and dives Feliciano remembered from the Interludes. She let her whole body go in its taking, with her dress, hair, wings and halo. A single hand gave a final wave to all her people and she was gone, only leaving behind the light of the portal. Kiku, Ludwig and Feliciano were yet frozen…but Feliciano was the one to take a deep breath and dared to be the first to take a step. It was just like the interludes…there was nothing to fear. It was the example and leadership Ludwig and Kiku followed, matching along together to be granted passage as a single force.

 Feliciano recognized this feeling of going between, the feel as if water purifying you into a new world, while Kiku and Ludwig were startled at this wonderment, almost tripping in their welcome. With the change of the portal, Ludwig and Kiku were granted their very own form. Both with reddish and golden marks, wings, Ludwig’s a darker red while Kiku’s were almost orange. They shone with strong halos, of fire, heavy surely if it was back in their own world…but here it was as light as another strand in their hair. Their clothes turned into richness and beauty as the very ones Augusta had shown herself in, to the style of their province, making clear their origins, the three making quite a trio as they stood above a stage that put them to look below to what this world was.

 They were left breathless, almost fainting at the colors, the sound of the creatures that roamed freely and confident, palaces and palaces, piling up, shinning with the rarest of crystals and forms, with water, routes, trees and flowers cascading down to different floating islands. Clouds and mist seemed to grant them this flight, this place in between the folds of the universe, perfect like heaven.

 “What…what…” Kiku tried to word but was still too taken to really continue what he meant to ask.

 “What is this place?” Ludwig somehow managed to reach.

 “The heavens,” And Augusta appeared beside them, not gigantic, but matching with their own statures, yet still decorated as beautifully. She placed comforting and welcoming hands on their shoulders, leading them, with the way she practically flew forward, telling them to follow her. She easily went over the precipice, with each step creating a path of golden bricks, shaped with clouds and shine, a hint of pink to them that the three royals couldn’t resist their own step towards.

 They passed well-turned spirits and souls, riding happily on the backs of dragons, phoenixes or St. Marks, each animal decorated just as gorgeously as their human counterparts. They spotted trees and flowers that they had never seen before, overflowing from roofs, some even floating, in the control of those who wanted to make them fly or make them sprinkle the air.

 Feliciano had to try and remember every detail, every portrait, every scene painted on walls, the capture of statues, or nature in vases, bricks, sidewalks, glasses and crystals reflecting more whatever shine decided to present itself as they walked on.

 The deeper they went, the more came to gather, shouting, congratulating, in an array of different languages, some their own but as it was spoken two hundred years ago. From their wear, their marks, their wings or halos, they saw people from a span of many years, Feliciano recognizing many of their clothes from old paintings.

 Augusta continued to lead them through this celebration, floating them through the streets, the golds, between arches of sapphire, pillars in diamonds and green vines coming alive through every wall. Even as the songs and shouts were directed at them, the three royals, taken still by what they saw, couldn’t raise their hands, couldn’t utter a word, their eyes still occupied taking every detail, every movement, every color. Augusta kept leading them through crevices and wondrous corners, until she could expose them to surely the four largest palaces in the realm.

 Nothing in their world could compare to their tallness, their majesty, shine and as Augusta laid them back on the ground, right before the road that could lead to her red and golden one, the three royals felt unworthy to step on such a pavement. They were left no other choice as Augusta blew away with ease the road for them she had created, bringing them to the center of this feast, to the loudest of all the cheers, and also the very center of their universe. They noticed then three beings come, one in blue, the other green, and one in yellow. Even as they stood in their same stature, the Heartians could feel nothing but power and magic from them, almighty and way above whatever reaches they could reach even when they were right there. They knew they were the other Aces. Artem, Maiara and Jabbar. They came to meet their fellow sister…who they hadn’t seen like this in surely centuries. In an act that was utterly human, they all came into an embrace, together, in an union that Feliciano swore he could see their entire world shine in. Augusta let herself go to introduce forward the royals chosen for her own kingdom, the three surely shaking and with eyes of enchantment…but also panic. They bowed, as low to the ground, kneeled and hands extended as they were taught in the very rare case they were in front of all four Aces.

 “No need, stand.” Artem commanded, and quick, like they had been scolded, they stood, precise and orderly. “No such greetings are needed.”

 “It is us that should bow,” Maiara reminded as she started, the rest of the three following in her lead, their thanks large as their knees reached the ground and their hands came to them in reverence.

 They wanted to say something…wanted to tell them that it was not necessary…they didn’t deserve this, shown as if Aces themselves. Despite everything, they were still only human, not beings that created this entirety. Yet…it was an honor…one that strained their words and their actions, embarrassingly only standing there agape…it was only Feliciano who began to cry, having to put his arms to himself to try and keep his feelings under some kind of control. “Oh, please, please stop! Stand!” He in the end had to shout at them.  And all four rose up with smiles and laughter.

 “You have saved your world,” Jabbar continued.

 “And through it, our own, here in the Heavens,” Augusta spread her arms to show it, even to the souls that celebrated and cheered from their heights, in their celestial homes and days. Truly beauty, a jewel, shinning eternally in colors that now Feliciano really hoped he could remember to sketch it all to his memory.

 “As well as the Interludes, the very passage and line that balances all our worlds. If it wasn’t for your actions…all of it could have been gone,” Artem continued. “It still stands, by your efforts.”

 Maiara then chuckled, “with the use of wisdom, your power, the trust you placed not only on one another, but your people had on you.”

 “And above all, love being the driving force that stood against all. Ludwig, Feliciano, your love truly defeated Khaos,” Augusta resonated some words Augusto had said himself. Ludwig and Feliciano blushed, turning towards one another wanting more than ever to kiss and hug each other in that very love that won this war. Oh, if Augusto…that reminded Feliciano. He turned and looked towards whatever floating islands, to whatever rush of people…hoping to find those familiar curls he himself inherited.

 “Feliciano!” Came that known shout.

 Just like that, Feliciano was almost on the ground from the force his grandfather greeted him in, his embrace just the same, with celebration and pride that just had to be showcased even before the Aces. Of course, Kiku and Ludwig couldn’t be left out from it. Once Augusto made the space, he took both the King and Jack to the same embrace, laughing and practically dancing in circles.

 How they have missed these joyous little feasts between themselves, loud and happiness glowing for all to witness.

 “I’m so proud, so proud for all of you. You have done amazing!” He shouted, going as far as to even kiss Ludwig and Kiku, both left dumbfounded at such an action, but they smiled at it and took it as but another way to shout celebration. Feliciano hanged himself over him, laughing and letting himself be that child that long ago used to do just that. In heaven, before the Aces, it didn’t matter. He would let everyone know how much he loved and how dear was his grandfather to him.

 But his grandfather wasn’t alone, with him came tailing a whole group, wearing all similar wears of reds and golds, a symbol that they all shared, proof of being Heartian, Italian, and more specifically, Valenti.

 “Oh! Vieni! Vieni! You have to meet your family!” He pulled Feliciano and the rest to this large crowd, all with the famous Valenti curls, from blondes to brunettes, even an occasional red-head. From distinct and strong facial features, to the simple ones like his own. Some were very tall, others beautifully plum, some, whether men or women, had short hair above their ears, others had none, or some had it falling down their back. It was all to the styles of the times they were born into. Feliciano was shy to meet them, even if indeed they were all family, but it was unexpected, it was too much…yet he didn’t mind giving his greetings, hugging even some he had heard much about, going on with random chats as if they had known each other all their lives. The Aces didn’t mind this, they let Feliciano this reunion with his family…it would be good persuasion with what they were about to offer.

 “Feliciano,” Augusta called him forward, open arms, and Feliciano rushed to it, not at all hesitating in the hold he took of her hands. Warm, comforting and like home. Augusta shook them and suddenly she found herself nervous to say what she wanted. But a turn to the Aces, a nod, an approval, and of course, a hurry and excitement, and Augusta turned to her great grandson determined.

 “Feliciano, what you have done, is deserving of an award.”

 “Nonna, really, you don’t-”

 “Amore, please let me…I promised this and it is something you must come along and take.” A deep breath, a silence suddenly coming, no one daring to disturb the words of an Ace. It was quite eerie how the entire heavens just fell silent for this. “As I have told, as I prophesied and the other Aces and I have made ready for centuries…in the hopes that Khaos was indeed defeated…” she breathed, she prepared, “Feliciano…you must come to live with me in the heavens now and become…” she turned, pulling him them closer to the road that will lead to her palace, all of a sudden presenting itself with more shine. “The new Ace of Hearts.”

 Suddenly, angels came, marching like an army, only to decorate the road, raising flags upon flags to decorate in welcome, surely for a pathway they wanted the Heartian Queen to take.  Some played drums and trumpets, added then with the cheer of the crowds, already celebrating as if Feliciano had already passed the palace gates…making it officially his new home. Then, a creature, a St. Mark walked towards him, having journeyed from the Heartian Ace palace. This one was large, majestic, decorated with more jewels, with armors that could go against meteors and surely with a roar that could cause earthquakes in his world. It was Fabius, Augusta’s own St. Mark like Pookie was to Feliciano. The lion, now small, cowered on Feliciano’s shoulder, intimidated by this one…even if it was his father. The St. Mark bowed to Feliciano and the Queen did so back, the creature seeming to smile and shine along with the celebration, moving aside for when Feliciano came forward. Augusta cuddled herself towards him and the Lion, no matter how godly, leaned towards her in the same devotion.

 Ludwig and Kiku on the other hand, stilled, the news only downcasting them, not even the feast around them enough to bring them back into light. Ludwig…tried hard to hide how already he was breaking apart inside, defeated…like he had already lost Feliciano over a precipice he would never reach for him again.

 He knew…he knew this would happen…he knew this would come…if what they wanted occurred…this was to be the next step, the finality that settled everything and made an ending to this story. It’s one of the reasons he had tried to keep him apart after the eight year gap, why he refused to accept his feelings as well as Feliciano’s, refusing any kind of advance so Feliciano could accept it all as he deserved.

 He had wanted this not to hurt, he sometimes liked to daydream that he would applaud and only wave Feliciano some sort of goodbye that will settle well for an eternity. He would turn and march on with a smile on his face. But here now…he couldn’t move, couldn’t say a word but shake and try to hold down the tears that surely wanted to burst and reveal the moment of weakness this was. Kiku must have noticed…he must be feeling the same way, and they gazed between one another in a moment of understanding and trying to reach some comfort.

 “Should we…?” Kiku surely questioned if there was a way to stop this, to place themselves as a hold to what this future could be. Ludwig, with a deep breath, looked away, ready as if to leave that instant away from the heavens. Suddenly it didn’t hold the same charm anymore.

 “No…this is…this is…the greatest award that could be given. Glory that Hearts, our world, neither we can ever match with,” he sighed, still trying to make himself believe those words. “We will congratulate him…and leave.” And Ludwig, without even looking at Kiku, could just feel his utter refusal, but in part he did have to agree with those words, instead, hiding to himself whatever he meant to say, what he meant to act.

 “He’ll…he’ll make a great Ace…at least we’ll know were under right guidance…and the balance of the universe is in good hands.” This was goodbye and there was not more to be done.

 As Ludwig tried to take a last grasp of his husband between the still celebrating multitudes…he only wished he could properly say goodbye…hold him and kiss him one last time before anything…but by the looks of it…it didn’t seem likely. He sighed and accepted that whatever glimpses he could get would be the last he would have of him.

 Yes…to Feliciano…this was all glorious. The floating islands, the wonderful colors, the magic, the richness of these palaces and castles, of the roars of the people around him. Yes…it was an eternal celebration that would keep him mighty for eons. He thought about how he still possessed the hand of creation, looking down to his hands as if already he could see everything he could bring alive…whole new worlds, cosmos and universes extending far beyond this one. Yet in that expanse…he spotted clearly the bearing gems. Two identical ones on each side of his hands…both shinning like their own sun, lighting and bringing life to a world…he had promised someone he would help create. It was in that moment he turned to Ludwig…who refused to meet his eyes, yet he saw sorrow in them that Feliciano shared in, suddenly the colors and music greying and lifeless to him. Those around him easily saw how his smile disappeared, and the shine in his eyes was gone. They silenced at such display, giving him space, thought, and the Aces could show their question as to why he know saddened when he was at the center of such an opportunity. Feliciano was scared to utter these words, here at the mercy of the Aces…but he had to insist, had to make them understand.

 “And…if I don’t want to?” He placed the idea, one that surprised all, not thinking that it would be something that Feliciano would dare consider when what they would give they thought would be above whatever Hearts had.

 “Feliciano, these are the heavens, a position as an Ace, with riches and everything you want at your fingertips. Why would there be a reason to deny?” Augusta tried to persuade.

 “Who’s going to take care of my children?”

 Augusta widened as if she was just finding out…when in reality…she had completely forgotten about that detail, having to reconsider, organize, with a glance to the other Aces and they quickly came to another decision.

 “They shall be born here and stay with you.”

 “Away from their father? From their grandparents…their family…their home. Leave everything behind as if it was all nothing…”

 A long silence before Jabbar dared speak, “Are you truly only speaking about the children? Or is this about yourself?” With how Feliciano widened, it made sure that Jabbar hit straight to what the Queen felt.

 “Yes…it’s also what I feel.” Here he turned to his Jack and King, a large smile that showed true to a promise. “This…this place is beautiful. A dream, a wonder, this chance…rare…perhaps I would be the only one for centuries to come that will be granted something like this…yet…” he began to walk towards his friend, his husband, no one around him daring to intrude his sure and set path. “Hearts…the world…mean so much to me. Enough it is my heaven, my place. It is home.” Now he stood right in front of them, his words now for them to hear. “When I was born…you saw someone in me that could save the world…but you also gave me a position, you gave me a duty as the Queen of Hearts.” Close yet to his Jack and King, he turned to face the Aces again. “Many times…I doubted it…I had wished and prayed that it wouldn’t be my destiny…I even tried to run away from it once…but now I see that it is my place, it is my calling…it will be wrong of me to turn away from it now…” He grasped one hand of Kiku, another of Ludwig’s. “My reign is still so young…there is still so much I can do in Hearts, so much I can help the whole world with, so much I should be there for. Nonna Augusta…you’re back again…the position is for you as the universe intends.” He hoped they understood, he hoped he wasn’t creating an offence, wasn’t disrespecting. But as Kiku and Ludwig grasped their own hold on their Queen’s hand…Feliciano smiled and suddenly stood higher, understanding then…there was no need to worry for any spite of gods. He knew then that they were in no position to react such a way against them, especially after saving their worlds.

 His next words had a confidence as tough as the pillars and gold the buildings here were made of. “I want to stay in Hearts. I want to stay with my people. I want to stay with my Jack…and I want to stay with my husband.” The devotion, the utter love these two exchanged, made all the four Aces realize that they were naïve to think that Feliciano would chose a life away from this man. “I know my place…and it is with my family.”

 To his surprise, the Aces smiled between one another, a new energy spread…and it wasn’t bad or punishing. Augusto began to chuckle, the rest of the Valenti there joining him, with laughs that shared joy across all the souls present.

 “Very well then…you will stay to finish your reign in Hearts,” Artem spoke in decision.

 “When it is done, and you have lived your life as any Queen, you will be welcomed here,” Maiara continued.

 “The same shall await you then, and Ludwig, Kiku and every important member in your life shall all have a safe assurance of an afterlife here,” Jabbar said.

 “Till then, we will await you. Now, we wish you farewell, a wondrous life to give to the world and to your family,” Augusta wished, coming over to give an embrace that to Feliciano was just like those of his family. He enjoyed from this warmth, wrapping his own arms around her as echoes of new celebration began to ring. In this hold, Feliciano released magic that had been weighted on him since birth…the hand of creation. In a wonderful swirl of platinum and gold, it was transferred back to Augusta. She splendored more in its shine as it placed her back as creator and superior goddess. When it was finished, she welcomed in the rest of the Valenti, and Feliciano enjoyed the most from his grandfather, surely to be the last for a long time. He had his chance to give his own to his grandmother, Helena, who he had never had the chance to meet in his world…he saw a lot of her in Lovino…and suddenly he already missed him and his nephew.

 “Go and live,” his grandfather wished, and with those words, Feliciano had to tearfully let go of them, turning to then place them with Ludwig, who grasped Feliciano…relieved beyond however he had felt before. Without a care on who stared, where he was…he spun Feliciano to have him in front, hands adjusted on his waist, to pull him into a kiss, strong, magical, these forms giving it a touch that made sparks surely glow all around them. When they released and looked into their eyes…Feliciano truly saw that he had made the right decision. Ludwig raised his hands and let his fingers caress on the jewels…excited and hoping for a bright future with a new family just for them.

 Any threats were away…Ludwig could now celebrate the coming of his own children…and that he was to return to Berlin with Feliciano.

 Augusta smiled and opened her arms to create a portal, this one small, just the space for all three of the Hearts royals to make their passing back home. Kiku waved his goodbye before he rushed through. Ludwig and Feliciano refused to let go of their hands, determined to pass together. Ludwig had begun his engulfing, but Feliciano spared a last glance back…

 The last he saw was celebration still ringing, chorus surely sang and orchestras played, the Aces watching them leave dutifully and then beside Augusta…the light, the one Feliciano had saved from the cage of Khaos, as well as with power from Ludwig…it began to grow, large enough until it was a figure as Augusta. It began to clear, it began to come alive…and for the first time Feliciano had seen what his great grandfather Romulus actually looked like.

 Dark hair in silk waves, the same that was on his beard, but despite it, Feliciano could see a long and strong face, handsome, it slightly reminded him of Lovino. Green eyes, likes leaves and grass, a stature, a smile, a last gratitude to his own grandson before he turned to his long missed wife. They held to each other with all the strength needed for centuries. What more they would do, Feliciano didn’t see, he had passed through, everything beginning to erase in bright light.

 He left behind the heavens to return home. 

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Next chapter is the very last...oh boy.