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castle-dominion · 2 years ago

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5x1

I need to leave for work in 15 mins (by which I mean 30) but I can watch the first 5 mins of 5x1.

The audio cutting is interesting...

*intense scene about killing ppl* *wakes up after a sexy night*

"that part" lol He's so smiley! RC: So…You’re on—one board with this, right? It’s not some “Oh, I—I quit my job, I almost died, I’m in crisis” thing? Girl go back & say "I apologize, I would like to have my job back pls." RC: So what would you, um… *starts taking off her shirt* …like to do today? I like her hair

MARTHA The CLOSET? Martha totally would have heard them arguing. WE??? the way she blows her hair I love it.

Of course she is hungover! RC: Well, Alexis, as your father, I have to say that I am .. deeply disappointed in you, and yet oddly proud. Becks get out! Out! Out!

Poor ryan, he has no team but at least gates is helping. Oh yeah negatives! Ah the vice P's security detail meaning ryan doesn't even have people there who are not his usual team.

Yucky torture

At least he is apologizing or smth... Why would he be embarrassed about being seen with you? RC: And, call me selfish, but I want to keep what we have together to ourselves a bit longer. KB: Still, it wasn’t your finest hour. RC: No. RC, approaching: But maybe I could…make it up to you…somehow. KB: I suppose since we know that you’re mom’s not gonna be barging in, we could go for a round two. RC: Well, technically it would be a round four, but— *KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK* RC: She’s stalking us. She knows. KB: Who is it? KR: (O.S.) Beckett, it’s Ryan! KB: *relieved face* RC: Oh. KB: Hide. Quick, in the closet over there. RC: Yeah, I’m not getting in there. KB: Why? I hid in your closet, why can’t you hide in mine? RC: Why should I? KB: Becau… KR, still through the door: Beckett, is everything okay? ((because after all, she did just almost fall & quit her job & they're dealing with her shooter & she is not responding much & this could very well be a hostage situation where someone is telling you what to do & say)) KB: Fine! [Beckett turns back to Castle.] KB: Okay, maybe I’m not ready for anyone to know yet. Right now. RC: Come on, how’s he gonna know? KB: You’re here. Just like I was there. RC: Yes. Yes, the difference being, I have my pants on. ((XD)) Or…or are you embarrassed to be seen with me? KB: Okay. Fine. Just act normal. If that’s even possible for you. [Beckett heads for the door.] RC: It’s me. ((she has a woodstove)) [Beckett prepares to open the door and looks back at Castle to make sure he’s ready. Castle awkwardly tries to strike a casual pose. Beckett opens the door and Ryan enters without waiting to be invited. He has awesome hair. He stops short when he sees Castle.] KR: Hey, Castle. What are you doing here? RC: Oh, I was just walking by…the neighbor…hood. I only live twenty… [Castle thinks for a moment.] RC: uh h…what are you doing here?

Ryan is talking so low & soft (& deep)

Castle: I know him Ryan: *sonic dub eggman voice* what are you two fucking talking about

Holy crap I only just now got to the title card? I thought I made it all the way to the title card before work yesterday!

Course no name, he would not release info like that, it is dangerous

SHe can't go back again, she broke out! She made it! "we've done this before with less to go on" like when u didn't have a body RC: And I’m not so bad myself.

Castle KNOWS that watch? rly?

Heck yeah protests Ooh esposito moments! Oh no he's going to be vigilanteing Wait nvm he's at the army surplus store-- wait that's a recruiting place. I'mma join the protests. I hope esposito doesn't rejoin the military. Fuck the military. (what's in the backpack?)

Ah meeting A Guy.

Didn't use his signal light Lol nice glasses & car. First names <3 Who is Cass? Didn't esposito say just last season that he never got shot? He said it was hard enough for him but beckett got shot? or was it about ryan in the second 3xk episode? JE: Only if you get caught Grunkle Stan: If there are no cops around, anything's legal

Bro don't just wipe the drive, destroy it too. He's a cop, he knows how to destroy evidence

"friend of mine" "you need to help me"

Only 17! Wow

Legal team? Johanna beckett?

Ryan all frustrated Knows the name of officer Hoban

All this detectiving, love it

Course it was a burner lmao I love how ryan is using his desk & esposito's at the same time, he is wheeling between computers rolling between lol

SMITH THAT'S THE NAME & LOOK HE'S THERE

She just broke down his door? she has a personal gun? (I can see that) NO MAN'S DEAD QUICK TAKE IT OUT OF THE FIRE if maddox only JUST was here putting the stuff in the fire, then he might still be nearby HE;S ALIVE

you're right she is not safe...

86? like when you have no more product to make a dish to sell? My chef brain lol. Could be like "86th street & xyz avenue" but he was too out-of-it to finsih his sentence

RC: No. smith is too smart to only keep one copy and in his apartment. He’s too careful for that. It’s…it’s a code, and the answer’s here somewhere. Sh'es right, y'all ought to run Yes, if there is a straw you SHOULD grasp.

Does he own the whole building? Firebox safe? Wow they already found it? lmao that was fast

WAIT IS THAT THE BOX THAT WE SAW AT THE END OF S3? THE ONE MONTY SENT STUFF TO?

Why didn't maddox find it first? he was here first

CM: Turn around. Hands behind your back. Why behind your back? I'd say hands up, visible, or on your head. After that, then I'd suggest turning so you are facing away from me/CM & then the hands were to be behind their backs

Steals her gun (like ryan?)

This is a floor safe? oh wait no that's why he's here he followed them! why doesn't he kill them?

Me, a fiddler, we carry zip nail clippers ok first of all that is a very loose zip tie also don't y'all know how to get out of zip ties/duck tape?

RC: If we got murdered right now, I’d feel so ripped off!

JE out of nowhere: Done what four years ago?

Nice, his name still is CM, cedric marks, cole maddox, perfect for me to type

How did u put a bolo out & have a uniform spot it & tell u? u'r on leave

Nice shoes & ankle gun lmao RC: Nice. What about for me? JE, surprised & angry: Oh, you mean an extra extra piece?

that is typically not how opening a safe works

He's still moving tho lmao they can't see him aim over his shoulder? (which,, u can't aim)

Espt grabbed becks out one way, now she's on the other side?

JE: ... He’s gone.

VG: So, let me see if I understand. As luck would have it, you three were in the neighborhood taking a walk?

VG: I am not interested, Mr. Castle, as you specialize in fiction.

Maddox is there because he was trying to kill beckett & then he was close to her when he died, duh

RC: Bad karma JE: *hits him*

Ryan KNOWS it is the file & is still keeping their secret!

Why would smith tell castle where the file is if it was just going to blow up?

*gives beckett a beer but not castle*

I love how they both draw their personal guns & castle grabs a weapon & I'mma clip this * then he just RECOILS & esposito doesn't put down his gun for the longest time

But also that gun is probably loaded & cocked with the safety off bc they expect it to be someone trying to kill them,, that's dangerous af & then adresses beckett not esposito

montgomery, lockwood, other names... I should do a puzzl e today also nice music

Yeah well I got ending balance <3

It's been five hours? Ages long

you still remember the password? They didn't change it? Nice dirty bomb episode callback

Dang this man is a politician?? lmao this is insane

KB: And then he realized that he couldn't charge mobsters because they wouldn't testify and then the cops would walk. KR: So instead, he decided to get in on the action. If they were collecting ransom from mob guys, he wanted a taste in the form of cash money orders.

It is SO late at night probably, why r they calling him? Let's say it was 5pm when they cracked out the beers & ryan arrived, so it is 10pm, not /that/ late ig...

Why did this cop let these two in?

How does he breathe out through his nose if he has a thing in it?

What favour did he do? not just murder becks. Not just the murder of your mom.

Good idea. Disappear.

Becks using her interrogation skills

How long have they had that phone call outside?

What kind of encouragement?

that was NOT dispatch babe

What if that was HIM disappearing, NOT him getting assassinated

I love the way we see her reflection in the TV

ofc they were disabled

Why does ryan have TWO teams? Someplace she'll be safe but b'y what abt your family

Wow interesting picture thing there,,, like murdoch's brain oof that picture switch was good

Aww she put him up in her bed

Nice sit straight upright with that musical sting or w/e it is

I did- I DO ryan's jacket gives him a good waist. espt's outfit is great too GOSH RYAN STEPPED INTO THE LIGHT & DANG HE PRETTY

ryan's badge number is 42344 for all u fanfic writers

Espt looks at castle as if he's the reason becks is going after him

thought that camera was a gun for a sec Hastings <3 But doesn't she know becks is on admin leave & also quit? Love love love the music

Ryan running thru with his badge

Monty really loved her

She slipped her phone in his pocket? no someone else's phone, a cheap burner or smth love his ring

Why is she revealing her location to him

He's right, probs shouldn't ring that bell but also what if ryan was just looking smth up? & becks has had an hour head start, if she wanted to kill him, she may have already done so unless she's planning on hiding the body well & destroying evidence

Your frigging arm, first names, & then he gives espt his phone bc he knows he doesn't trust himself with his phone or smth idk bro or he knows espt doesn't trust him

"ms beckett" ooh this is the private meeting with the donor lol WB: Never expect that from a politician

Is this story even true? I mean... yeah I can see that but did you do that?

I mean,, that may be true but u also killed a bunch of ppl & are killing more to cover it up? Oooooh that music, it was written backwards He's really good at this, he knows this, he really is a politician, he is good at talking. Hitler & trump & those guys might be way off the side but they were good at speaking

He's right tho, it is not about the power, & also didn't he just say if she had the file she wouldn't need him to say the truth?

She memorized it?

you don't know the details of smith's arrangement tho, don't say you want to make that your deal now!!! Or anyone I care about <3 (also good on her in this bluff) She's right... He really is intimidated...

Nah facial wounds heal well... I have a cut on my nose & it has been like maybe four to six & a half years & it is basically gone, I can barely see it even if I'm looking

btw her outfit is nice

Castle if she killed him u would have heard the shot

Was she putting a ring on just there?

the gift that keeps on giving

KB: I…I don’t know. VG, calmly: I don’t believe you. VG: You’re covering for someone, and I know who it is. But I don’t intend to dig up the past and tarnish Roy Montgomery’s reputation. The fact is, I…I admire your loyalty. I hope you feel that for me someday.

KB: Well, I have to serve out my suspension, same as Esposito. ((So true)) RC: What are you gonna do in the meantime? KB: Oh, I’m pretty sure I’ll think of something. *feels him up below the camera but the elevator doors are still open*

ok I am trying rly hard to get thru these eps in only an hour & a half or less bc I need to give back the DVDs too soon

#castle 5x1 #castle 5x1 spoilers #castle 5x1 quote #castle s5 spoilers #the suspension episode

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years ago

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The Family Tree is... a Disaster

Takes place in the TCW Leverage AU. It does contain a few deviations, namely that the narrative ended up shifting Plo's role in Ahsoka's life, and Ventress's role overall.

This is mostly just dialogue where I outline the fuckery that is the disaster lineage family tree, not actual fic. It stemmed from my incessant need to justify "25yo Obi-Wan somehow got custody of 9yo Anakin without Shmi dying."

Warnings for: canon character death (modernized), canon violence (modernized), and references to Nazis and white supremacists (Palpatine collects WWII weaponry as a parallel to his canon display of Sith artifacts in his office as chancellor, and Ahsoka thinks it's sketchy)

----

"Okay," Cody says, setting down a glass of whiskey as he drops into the seat across the table. "What the hell is your family tree like?"

Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow, and continues cleaning off the definitely-not-stolen crystal komodo dragon he'd won in today's job. "I beg your pardon?"

"You and Skywalker," Cody says, gesturing between Obi-Wan, who is just sitting there minding his own business, and Anakin, who is across the closed-for-tonight bar and doing something inadvisable on the pool table. "You've said he was your brother, and mentioned raising him, which, sure, I'm over twenty years older than my youngest brother, people take over parenting roles all the time. But you have different last names, have mentioned stepfamilies that the other doesn't have, reference things as 'your aunt, not mine,' and I am just getting... very confused. I figured it was personal and I could leave well enough alone, but considering your older brother almost shot us today--"

"Okay, Xanatos is not my brother," Obi-Wan immediately says. "Just. I just have to stop you right there. Xanatos was a student of my father's for a time, but I promise he's not family. Nobody except maybe Komari would consider him even close, and she doesn't count since she's in prison for life and the farthest thing from stable."

Cody gestures. "That, Obi-Wan. That's what I'm talking about. I don't even know who Komari is."

Obi-Wan purses his lips in a failed attempt to not smile. "Do you actually want the explanation? It's long and unnecessarily complicated."

"So's mine," Cody snorts. Obi-Wan waits, patient and pleasant, and is rewarded when Cody sighs. "Please."

"Of course, my dear. To answer your first question, though, Anakin is my half-brother." With a smile, Obi-Wan digs a piece of paper and a pen from his briefcase. "So, center of the chain: me, my father Qui-Gon, my grandfather Yan, and my great-grandfather Yoda. With me so far?"

"Easy enough. Do you have to go back that far?"

"Great-grandfather Yoda is still alive and regularly escaping the old folks' home to terrorize younger relatives, so yes," Obi-Wan says. "Given that you may just meet a tiny, meddling relative of mine when he's bored, we do in fact have to go back that far."

"...how old is he?"

"We don't know for sure. A hundred and eight-ish is the best guess." Obi-Wan shrugs. "It's not a huge deal, mostly he likes bothering Anakin these days. Anyway, grandfather. Yan Dooku. Inherited a minory duchy from his maternal grandfather decades back. Mostly hangs around there because he's on terrorist watchlists in the States."

"Oh, lovely."

Obi-Wan grins. "Trust me, it gets worse. Anyway, grandfather never actually married, but spent most of his time with his 'best friend' Sifo Dyas, who died about a decade back."

"Gay?"

"Well, we know that now, but they got together in the seventies, and this was back when they were both working government jobs, so, you know. It happens."

"Good to know," Cody says. "So, Yoda's kid is Yan, who inherited a title and land from a maternal relative, and had a life partner but never married. With you so far."

"All of Yan's kids were adopted," Obi-Wan continues, sketching out the first branch away from the Yan/Sifo partnership. "Rael was actually grandfather's cousin, maternally, and ended up in his custody after getting orphaned at five. These days, he does most of the stewardship duties at the Serenno Duchy. His daughter Nim is teaching military history at a university in Germany."

Cody nods. "Uncle number one is named Rael, technically your dad's cousin, has a daughter. Got it."

"About a decade after Rael, they adopted my father, Qui-Gon. He and grandfather fought, frequently, but they did care for each other. My father was a botanist, did bio-engineering. We'll get back to him later, because he's where things get complicated." Obi-Wan made sure to leave room around the name. "Just a few years older than me was--is--Komari Vosa. She is... serving a life sentence. I think she fought Jango once."

"She fought my father?"

"To the best of my knowledge, they both almost died, yes," Obi-Wan says. "She's in maximum security these days. She was an assassin. I'll get a call if she breaks out, and I'll let you know along with everyone else."

"Bad news auntie, got it."

"Last adoption, sort of, is Ventress," Obi-Wan finishes off. "A few years younger than me, is technically grandfather's personal assistant and does secretarial work and the like, but we all know he's planning to leave as much of the inheritance to her as he is to the rest of us. She's aggressive and unpleasant, but she takes care of him and hasn't actually threatened to kill any of us yet, so that's fine."

"How'd she join?" Cody asks.

"Ky Narec was a friend of Qui-Gon's; Ventress was his daughter. Ky died a few years after Qui-Gon did, and Ventress was a mess, after." Obi-Wan shrugs and scratches that connection into the little sketch of a family tree as well. "Grandfather offered her a job until she got herself back together, and then she just kind of... stuck around."

"Youngest aunt, more of a cousin." Cody summarizes. "Now we go back to your father?"

"Qui-Gon Jinn was a man of many skills," Obi-Wan says drily. "Adequate birth control was not one of them."

It's almost a pity that Cody wasn't drinking anything, because going by the way he chokes, Obi-Wan's pretty sure the spit take would have been spectacular.

"I'm sorry," Cody says. "Can you repeat that?"

"I was an accident," Obi-Wan says, not even bothering to hide his smile. "So was Anakin."

"So that sounds like... a story."

"It is," Obi-Wan confirms. "My biological mother has never been in the picture. They had a fling, she wasn't sure if she'd want to abort or give me up, just that she wasn't ready to be a parent, and Qui-Gon volunteered to take full custody so she could go back to her life after the birth. I've never met her, but I kept her family name. You can consider her irrelevant beyond that."

Cody nods.

"So, when I was about a year old, Qui-Gon reconnects with an old flame, they get married two years later. Step-mother number one is Tahl. Lovely woman, I absolutely adored her, and she had a daughter, my stepsister, Bant Eerin."

"I met her, right?" Cody asks.

"Yes, she was the doctor who patched up my bullet wound a few months ago," Obi-Wan says. "With the giant glasses that make her look a little fish-eyed."

"She was nice."

"She is," Obi-Wan agrees. "At any rate, that was our family for a while, and then Tahl died when I was fourteen. Bant wanted to go to a magnet school for medical studies, and Qui-Gon's grief was... not optimal for taking care of multiple teenagers, shall we say, so Bant moved in with her paternal uncle, Kit Fisto, and Kit's son Nahdar. He's a marine biologist, incredibly friendly, and has no idea of any of the rest of my side of the family's questionable activities. If you ever meet him, you will pretend that we are a legal firm with a team of security consultants."

Cody raises a brow. Obi-Wan despairs. "Best you could do?"

"We're not that likely to run into him." Obi-Wan draws out a new line. "So, Qui-Gon deals poorly with grief. This is also around the time that Xanatos came around to ruin our lives a little. He was a very rich and unpleasant man, but he's dead as of four hours ago, so you don't have to worry about him. Or his son."

"His son?"

"Anakin handled that," Obi-Wan says. "Thoroughly. Granta Omega is no longer an issue. He's not dead, but... well. Anakin has his ways. Er--I should probably mention Feemor; he was my father's assistant at the university for a long time. Anakin and I still call him our uncle."

"Also a person to avoid mentioning criminal activity to?" Cody prompts.

"Well... no, but only because I don't think he'd care. The man is, forgive me, more of a 'walking sweatervest' than I am. He's a very bland and unassuming man. He once described himself as the background character of the soap opera that is my family's existence."

"Sounds like a charmer."

"Oh, he's very kind and clever, and witty as well. I adore him, and he really is family. He's just also very, very normal. Not boring, but..." Obi-Wan trails off and shrugs helplessly. "He's an editor for an agricultural research journal. Also not someone I anticipate us running into."

"Noted."

"Right, so, Qui-Gon dealing poorly with his grief didn't involve much drinking, but there were a few months of him trying to... lose himself in the pleasures of the flesh?" Obi-Wan tries, and then deflates at the look on Cody's face. "He was slagging around. Shmi got pregnant with Anakin, who was born when I was sixteen. Shared custody at first, Qui-Gon got him weekends and every other holiday, that sort of thing, and then they got married because they actually did like each other well enough, and it was easier on the taxes."

"So Shmi is stepmother number two."

"Shmi is stepmother number two, yes." Obi-Wan sketches in Anakin and Shmi. "About nine and a half years after Anakin was born, Shmi and Qui-Gon were in a car accident with... well, it later turned out it wasn't an accident, there was a hitman called Maul involved, he's actually Ventress's second cousin or something, I don't know. Grandfather handled most of that problem. Qui-Gon died, Shmi was in intensive care, and I got custody of Anakin as his nearest adult relative. We weren't very close before that, because I was off at university by the time he was old enough to form memories, but that changed once he started living with me. I more or less raised him as a single parent from that point."

"This is why he jokes that you're like a father to him."

"Precisely," Obi-Wan says. "Shmi took about a year to recover enough to move again, and grandfather covered the costs. She still had to live with a dedicated carer and attend daily physical therapy. At that physical therapy, she met Cliegg Lars, whose son Owen was also a patient there. They hit it off, and three years later, they married. When Anakin refers to his stepfamily he's talking about the Lars out in Nevada."

"Nevada?"

"They have a farm. A very, very normal one. We don't drag them into our activities, unless we have an at-risk person who needs a safe house." Obi-Wan pauses, and then decides this really needs to be stressed. "This is important to me and Anakin, that we don't get them involved unless there's absolutely no other choice. Shmi's been through a lot, and the Lars are busy enough running the farm."

"Works for me," Cody says. "We've got enough safe houses that it shouldn't be an issue. I'm guessing this story doesn't end there, though."

Obi-Wan grimaces. "My own love life has been... a bit of a mess."

"I already know about Kryze, at least."

There's that. "I was temporarily engaged to a friend, Siri Tachi, shortly after high school. We were in a relationship, but this was mostly something done to appease a relative of hers that was getting overbearing to the point of absurdity, and she couldn't just cut them off. We broke off the engagement after the relative passed, and we're still friends."

He notes that down, then adds the other embarrassment of his early years. "First marriage was actually a drunken joke between myself and my best friend when we were in college. We got it annulled a few months later because we just didn't have time to drop by the courthouse before then, and he's actually engaged to Asajj now."

"Asajj?" Cody asks, watching in fascination as Obi-Wan tries to mark in both his own short marriage and the newer, long-term engagement without crossing any lines. He settles for just writing the name twice and including an asterisk with 'this is the same person.'

"Ventress," Obi-Wan clarifies. "Yeah, Quinlan's a fun guy. His little sister, Aayla, treats Anakin like a beloved younger cousin."

"Are they also off-limits for criminal activity?"

"No, Aayla's the one that taught Ahsoka how to vent-crawl," Obi-Wan says. "And I'm pretty sure Quinlan has contacts in every major government branch, criminal organization, and Fortune 500 company on the planet. I reach out to them regularly."

"Resources, then."

Obi-Wan nods. "Some time later, I married Satine. We had a son; you've met Korkie. We split due to incompatibility a year and change before Qui-Gon's death. Satine doesn't engage in criminal activity, but Bo-Katan is..."

"I've met Bo-Katan. I know what she's like, Obi. You don't have to explain."

"She works with Maul sometimes."

"...the man who killed your father?"

"Yes. It's all very stupid and convoluted." Obi-Wan still writes her in. "So, that's them. Korkie goes to boarding school, and I try not to involve him in anything. Anakin and Ahsoka like to teach him self-defense and the like, but Satine is adamant that he stay unaware of my less legal dealings until he's an adult."

Cody shrugs. "Makes sense. Is that every--wait, no, Skywalker's married."

Obi-Wan grins. "Yes, and Padme's got twins on the way."

"I was there when he told us," Cody says drily. "He was very loud about it. Okay, how does Ahsoka fit in?"

"Hold on, I forgot Beru," Obi-Wan mutters. "Owen's fiancee. Same rules as the Lars. Okay, you asked about Ahsoka. Right. So. Um."

He dithers. Cody waits for him, and then Obi-Wan just gives up. "Ahsoka, dear, would you like to explain how you joined the family, so to speak?"

Ahsoka looks up from whatever she and the boys are doing--there are multiple beer glasses and straws and duct tape involved, and Obi-Wan doesn't really want to know--and then flips off the table and over to Obi-Wan and Cody. She looks over the family tree chart, and then says, "Oooh, did you tell him about the cult?"

"You were in a cult?" Cody demands.

"No, Komari was. She was head priestess or something. I dunno, it's why she's in prison and stuff."

"I did not tell him about the cult," Obi-Wan mutters, already regretting this. "The Bando Gora aren't a problem anymore. I've already gotten to explaining how you and Anakin know each other."

Ahsoka rolls her eyes, steals his pen, and starts sketching in around Quinlan's name, over by Asajj since Obi-Wan's section is too crowded. "Okay, so, Quinlan's adopted. His dad is Tholme, and Tholme's dad is Plo Koon. Plo Koon is good friends with my Auntie, Shaak Ti, who raised me. They live next door to each other, out in the country, and I'd play in his yard a lot, because he had puppies, and he took me to visit his bees. Whenever Auntie needed a babysitter, she asked Quinlan or Aayla to do it since she knew and trusted them, and Aayla needed pocket money."

"This is so unnecessarily complicated," Cody mutters.

"It is!" Ahsoka chirps. Her grin is far too sharp. "So, this one time, Aayla was watching me when I was fourteen, and she was just helping me with my physics homework. BAM, the door slams open, and in stumbled Skyguy with his arm missing. I've never met him before, and my first introduction is him shortly after he's gotten an unplanned amputation."

Anakin, on the other side of the room, giggles. Obi-Wan just sighs. The Fett brothers appear to be in the land of 'horrified fascination.'

Ahsoka revels in it. "There's blood everywhere, I'm screaming, Aayla's panicking, Anakin's halfway to unconscious and insisting we can't call the hospital, and nobody can get Obi-Wan on the phone. Quinlan's in another country, and Auntie Shaak and Uncle Plo are at a movie, so they've both got their cellphones off. Tholme was faking his death at that point to get away from an incident with the Irish Mob, so we didn't even try him."

"What the actual fuck," Rex breathes.

Ahsoka continues with relish. "We get Bant to pick up, and she's there an hour later with Padme, because Padme knows how to drive the way Skyguy does, and the entire drive there is just Auntie Bant on speakerphone telling Aayla how to stop the bleeding and get him stabilized while Padme's screaming at traffic at the top of her lungs."

"I owe Aayla a fruit basket," Anakin muses aloud. "The anniversary of her saving my life is coming up, it's warranted."

"Five years, baby!" Ahsoka crows. She fist-pumps.

Obi-Wan just drops his head into his hands. "You're killing me, children."

Anakin shrugs, grinning. "You know, I think Fett Senior might have been involved in that fight."

"My shitty dad cut off your arm?" Rex demands.

"No, I think he was busy fighting the Interpol guy," Anakin says. "But he was definitely there. I think. Blood loss kinda got to me after a bit, but I'm pretty sure Jango Fett was there, and also Boba might've been hiding in the getaway car?"

"I need another glass," Cody mutters. He doesn't stand up, though.

"Wait," Rex says. "So who cut off your arm?"

Anakin shrugs with an unsure noise. "Someone tried to convince me it was Grandpa Yan, but he was in the middle of a court case in Italy for some kind of parole violation when it happened, so he had an alibi."

"...did he actually violate parole?" Cody asks, and Obi-Wan thinks he looks like he doesn't know if he actually wants an answer.

Ahsoka shrugs. So does Anakin. Obi-Wan carefully looks at a spot behind Cody, and doesn't explain anything about wine tastings used as covers for illicit arms deals.

"The arm?" Rex prompts, sounding a little desperate to get back to the question he likely thinks is the most important.

"I still say it was Skeevy Sheev," Ahsoka chimes in.

"It wasn't Palpatine," Anakin snaps.

"Your creepy older friend who took you to operas and gives you fancy gifts and knows way too much about swords who was conveniently there to talk to the police and cover for you so you didn't get arrested for getting in the middle of a gang war in the first place, yes," Ahsoka says, dropping into a chair and sighing dramatically. "The guy who definitely hasn't been trying to convince you for a year and change that your wife is cheating on you with your older brother."

"Ahsoka!"

"What? He is."

"Anakin," Rex says, "your life sounds like a trainwreck."

"I'm not going to assume a frail, elderly man cut my arm off!" Anakin protests. "Even if he wanted to, he doesn't exactly have the muscle for it!"

"Grandfather's older," Obi-Wan points out, even though he knows it won't help. "And he definitely still could."

"Ha!" Ahsoka shouts.

"He could have hired someone?" Cody suggests. "Doesn't need to do it himself, if he has enough money."

Obi-Wan has a sneaking suspicion that Cody is deliberately stirring the pot as revenge for Anakin sending him eighty-seven cat memes inside an hour during last night's dinner.

"You all suck," Anakin declares. "Also, what the hell do you mean 'knows way too much about swords,' Ahsoka? You know way too much about swords!"

"Yeah, but I'm like ninety-percent sure that his antiques are Prussian and mid-century German military officer dress uniform relics, and pairing that with the Nazi pistols he's got on display--"

"He's just a history buff! And his family's German, of course he prioritizes that region, it's not like he doesn't have Russian or French or English antiques in there too, it's all sides of the war and--"

"I'm just saying he's almost definitely sending me sketchy glances like he thinks I'm planning to steal the silver on the three occasions you've had me with you when you stop by, and I'm pretty sure it's got less to do with my criminal record and more to do with me being, you know, not white."

Anakin looks ready to blow, so Obi-Wan interrupts. "Ahsoka, you were explaining how Anakin passing out on Aayla and scaring us all half to death led to your friendship?"

Ahsoka blinks at him, and then sticks her tongue out at Anakin and turns back to the chart. "So basically, Skyguy had to recuperate in Uncle Plo's living room for a week or two, and I kept showing up to bother him because he was bored and nobody would give him a laptop for 'security reasons,' because he had to lay low and stuff. He made me help him sketch out designs for a prosthesis and do all the writing for the math he had to do for the 3D printer, and we got to chatting."

Ahsoka hops up and back onto a table, legs swinging below her. "I decided he was cool and started following him around while he was getting used to only having one hand, mostly because I was bored. He showed me how to hotwire a car, and explained the best places to put a bug if you were looking to make it sneaky, and he picked my pocket to show off so many times when he was walking around Uncle Plo's house that I made him teach me that, too. And, uh, then Aayla found out and they got into a shouting match about it and decided they both needed to teach me parkour so I could get out of any mess I got myself into, since I was obviously going to follow them into a life of crime."

"And you did," Anakin says, far too proudly. "You're the best thief in this half of the country."

"Only because Aayla moved out east."

Anakin rolls his eyes and pulls Ahsoka into his side, digging his knuckles into her skull. "Best thief! You are the best thief! Be proud of yourself!"

"Let go!"

"Never!"

Obi-Wan sighed heavily and rubbed at his forehead. "Children, please."

"You're not my dad," Ahsoka growls out at him. "Skyguy, I'm going to bite you!"

"Good luck, the only arm you can access is the one that's going to break your teeth."

Ahsoka shrieks in outrage and stomps on Anakin's instep.

It's almost funny, for all that Obi-Wan's seen it play out a million times before, but the really interesting part is seeing Rex's look of fond dismay.

Obi-Wan thinks he might be adding a branch out to the Fetts soon. He's not actually sure if Rex is interested in Anakin or Ahsoka, and he's smack dab between them in age, so that's not a help either, but... well. The expression is familiar enough.

"Please tell me you don't match-make," Cody mutters to him.

"No, I plan to let the pieces fall where they will," Obi-Wan responds, just as low, and far more amused. "I'm simply trying to predict where those landings are to be."

Cody looks at him, and then back at the roughhousing trio, and sighs heavily. "You know, I really didn't think that you technically being minor royalty was going to be the least convoluted thing in your story, Obi-Wan."

He laughs, because it's true. "I'm first in line to inherit the title, since Rael denounced his claim. Nim isn't interested, and Qui-Gon's dead, so... I'm next."

Cody makes a face. "Delightful. I'm guessing that's not a connection we can safely make use of."

"No more than the Kryze or Naberries, I'm afraid." Obi-Wan claps him on the shoulder. "Chin up, I've plenty others in the metaphorical rolodex, all far less legitimate and far more amenable to work with our little outfit."

"Rolodex, really?" Cody snorts. "You're not that old."

Obi-Wan smiles winningly. "You don't know how old I am, Cody. All my IDs are fake."

"Anakin's twenty-four, and you're sixteen years older than him, going by the story you just told me," Cody points out. "I do know how to do basic math, Obi-Wan."

"I had to try," Obi-Wan admits. "I threw a lot of information at you all at once; I'd hoped you missed some of the ages in there."

"I have eight brothers," Cody scoffs. "And literally dozens of cousins, plus niblings, uncles, aunts, and so on. I have experience on this."

"If I asked you to list of the age of every single relative you have, you'd be able to do it?"

"Do you want me to draw a chart? I can draw a chart."

Obi-Wan can't help but laugh. "I'd be delighted, my dear."

Cody rolls his eyes, but Obi-Wan thinks--it's hard to tell in the dimmed lights of the closed bar--that there's a hint of a blush on the man's face. Obi-Wan lets himself slouch to the side, drops his head to rest on one fist, indolent debauchery in every line of his body. Cody does his best to ignore him, but Obi-Wan knows how to smile lazily and blink slowly and draw a man in.

(The whole 'indolent debauchery in every line of his body' phrasing is Anakin's, from back when he was a teenager trying to read highbrow literature to impress a cute girl... and to come up with new insults for his older brother.)

"So," Cody says, with a cough meant to somehow distract Obi-Wan from whatever's showing on the man's face. "Why, uh, why is your grandfather on terrorist watchlists?"

"Well, he didn't initially do anything," Obi-Wan says. "He was just a gay man who didn't hide it quite well enough, and had too much money and too white a face for someone to just call the cops on a faulty report. The Red Scare was technically over by that point, I think, but if a few people made suggestions that he was more loyal to the country that gave him a noble title than to the United States... he received a few warnings, of course, and it could have all blown over..."

"But?"

"But my grandfather is not a man to do things by halves, and instead decided that if the government was to list him as a threat, then he would oblige and make himself a threat," Obi-Wan finishes. "Living up to their labels, rolling with the assumptions, whatever you'd like to call it. It all irked him, and so he made some incredibly questionable decisions to make the government's lives harder. Some weren't bad, like donating to anti-war foundations that were protesting the Gulf War and the interventions in Yugoslavia, that sort of thing, and some were... nobody really looks well on gunrunning, you know."

"For fuck's sake..."

"Indeed," Obi-Wan chuckles. "Ironically, he has minimal opinion on the optimal form of economics, for all that virulent xenophobia and the remnants of anti-communism were involved in the whole mess. He just wanted to create problems for the people that were causing him problems."

Cody shakes his head. "I want to judge that, but you've met my father."

"Jango Fett is, indeed, also not a man to do things by halves," Obi-Wan agrees, attempting to nod gravely but breaking into a smile at the end. "That man is absurd."

"At least he's not dragging Boba into it anymore," Cody mutters. He drags over the fresh sheet of paper and pen that Obi-Wan offers him. "Okay, right, let's start with Jaster..."

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creacherkeeper · 3 years ago

Note

for the prompts: ayda teaching adaine or riz how to organize her library 💜💜

Intense scrutiny was never a thing Ayda had been good with. She knew she was skilled in many areas, and wouldn’t hesitate to inform others of that if they asked, because purposefully underselling yourself to make others like you always seemed like a double-edged sword (this Ayda had learned the metaphor of double-edged sword very young, because there were, in Leviathan, many actual double-edged swords around at all times). So, she knew she was smart, and was fine with others knowing she was smart, as well as very dedicated and practical and ambitious. She was, also, as a related point, impervious to heat as a half-phoenix. None of these things, however, stopped her from sweating under her armpits.

“How long until we get to work with the actual books?” Adaine asked, glasses being polished by her cleaning rag as Riz held both their notepads. “If I don’t get to breathe in old book smell in the next hour I might die.”

“I’m sure Ayda has a training process and we’ll follow it and be patient because that’s the best way to learn,” Riz said. He grinned at her encouragingly, all sharp pointed teeth. He didn’t look like he’d slept.

“Yes,” Ayda replied. “I do. I do have a process. And we’ll be following it. It’s- well, usually, it’s being followed by retired pirates who’ve had a few too many limbs blown off, and not high school interns, so- it’s- we’ll have to modify it a little, but that’s fine, and this is going to go fine.”

“It’s totally gonna be fine,” Riz agreed, handing Adaine back her notepad. “We’re going to be great interns and you’re not going to regret this at all.”

“Right.” Ayda blinked. “That’s correct. I won’t.”

Riz had a habit of saying technically encouraging things in a way that most people would find highly disconcerting, but Ayda reminded herself that he truly did mean it well and tried not to read the comment badly. Some people were thrown off by him ping-ponging back and forth between completely literal and menacingly sarcastic, and while Ayda at first found herself to be one of them, after spending more time with him (and explicitly asking Adaine through message cantrips) she was getting better at reading his intent.

“I’m so excited I could eat a book,” Adaine said, bouncing on her toes. She quickly continued, “That was not literal. I respect books too much to eat them and it would also likely kill me. I’m just very eager to be working here for the whole summer. Couldn’t possibly think of a better way to spend it. What are we learning first?”

Ayda tried to force her wings to smooth from their bristled state. Eating books was explicitly banned in the Compass Points.

“We’re going to be learning about the library’s organization system,” she said, slipping into her more rigid and formal vocal affect without really meaning to. “It’s unique to the Compass Points and will require dutiful study to master.”

Riz beamed. Adaine’s face skewed in confusion.

“You don’t use the Dewdrop Decimal system?”

Don’t bristle, don’t bristle. The quills of her feathers itched against her skin.

“No. My system was developed decades and decades before Dewdrop and is superior in every way. Dewdrop Decimal was basically a scam artist and is no academic in my eyes. If his organizational system were ever to touch the Compass Points, I’d rather burn the whole thing to the ground and start over.”

Tension crackled between the two girls. Riz grinned again, this time more of a face-wrinkling grimace. He held out his hands.

“Well, how about while we’re here, we just focus on learning Ayda’s system, since that’s what this library uses, and you can continue organizing all the shelves at Mordred by Dewdrop, and not try to reorganize anything here because Ayda might literally kill you?”

There was a loud pop. They turned. Aelwyn stood with a large, dusty tome in her hands, chewing slowly. She popped her gum again, then spoke.

“Is she being a nerd again?”

Ayda stared. “There’s no bubblegum allowed in the library.”

A pause.

“Rawlins gave it to me.”

“Well, Rawlins is expected to know all the rules here, so if that’s true, he’ll be punished swiftly and harshly.”

A few blinks. “I … I traded Rawlins some gum so I could look at this book.”

Riz stood on his tiptoes, neck craning. “Is that the book he keeps with him at all times because if he doesn’t have it, he turns into a pile of bones?”

Aelwyn shifted defensively. “I don’t see why I’m under interrogation here, I just came to say hi.”

Hands rising to cover her face, Ayda tried to breathe.

“Aelwyn, give Rawlins his book back,” Adaine said, short. “And stop stealing my gum, you know I need it for when I study.”

“None of you are any fun at all, but fine.”

The gum popped again as Aelwyn walked away.

Little flickers of flame heated Ayda’s palms as she breathed—deep, calming breaths in and out. Usually, if a new recruit didn’t work out, she could just drop them out the window and let them swim back to some other part of Leviathan while she put a new sign up on the banned patrons wall. But these were her friends. That made it more stressful, somehow.

“I’m really excited to learn about this organizational system, Ayda,” Riz said pointedly. There was a small thump, then a sound like a whap.

“Yes, I am too,” Adaine said.

Ayda dropped her hands. She stared at the floorboards in the space between them.

“Yes. Okay.” She cleared her throat, trying to speak more confidently. “The Ayda Aguefort Library Informational System was developed to revolve around the domains—both divine and scholarly. Some topics are obvious to sort. A book about frogs would fall under the Animal Domain. A book about the legal system would fall under Law. But all books are sorted by their primary domain and then within that, a secondary. So, a book about Leviathan, for example, would fall under the primary domain Civilization and then secondary Watery Death. It’s most important to know a book’s primary domain, and is usually easy to find the secondary following that, as long as you have adequate knowledge of what you’re searching for.”

“Watery death?” Riz whispered.

“Where’s the friendship section?” Adaine said curiously.

Ayda shifted. She blinked a few times, still not looking at them. “Primary, Community. Secondary, Joy.”

She risked a glance up. There was a broad, warm smile on Adaine’s face, eyes squinted happily behind her glasses.

“I take it back. I like this system much better than Dewdrop.”

Ayda’s chest flushed with pride. “Thanks. I do too.”

Footsteps. They glanced up as Aelwyn approached again, one hand on her hip and the other swirling the heavy tome in the air. “Yeah, I don’t know how to put Rawlins back together.”

Tension lessening, Ayda let herself chuckle. “Okay, we’ll take care of that, and then we go back to learning about the library.”

Adaine bounced up to her and linked their arms. The contact was warm and comforting.

“Lead the way, captain.”

#fantasy high #dimension 20 #ayda aguefort #adaine abernant #riz gukgak #aelwyn abernant #fantasy high fic #love that ur prompt was literally just 'autism squad being nerds?' like i love that for us #ayda pov my beloved <3 <3 <3 #sorry im incapable of not putting aelwyn into everything :(((((( but you know me #had to balance out nerd squad #okay ENJOY <3

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kjack89 · 3 years ago

Text

An Agreement Between Gentlemen (Chapter 13/14)

When this Author picked up the mantle left behind by the previous Lady Whistledown, it was with the intention of bringing a little levity to the otherwise long and sometimes dull proceedings that encompass the season, and to provide some color commentary that pokes fun at those otherwise generally unwilling to make light of themselves.

To that end, this Author has remarked upon and highlighted the general scandals that accompany this season as every season, the kind that serve to provide some drama to otherwise dull lives, but risk very little in terms of lasting damage.

This Author has never intended for this to cause actual harm, and as such, owes an apology to the Marquess of Enjolras and Mr. Grantaire. This Author does not dabble in morals, or legality; the sole concern of this column has been amusement, and the ruin of two gentlemen otherwise described by most who have met them as good men is something this Author cannot and will not be a part of any longer. While this Author cannot overstate that there was no prior knowledge of the truth behind the Marquess’s marriage, nonetheless the extra attention shone on it by and through this paper has brought harm, and for that, this Author is truly sorry.

While no promises can be made in regards to accidentally reporting similar in the future, this Author will certainly make every attempt to better vet sources before publishing rumor and innuendo. And the promise this Author does make is that the only additional mention of the Marquess of Enjolras or Mr. Grantaire in this paper will be for happy tidings, with best hopes for whatever they may face in the future. LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 6 JUNE 1831

The summons did not arrive with the usual fanfare, so much so that Enjolras almost missed them entirely.

No gilded envelope hand stamped with the King’s own seal, no scarlet-clad guard from the palace delivering it. Just a small, plain parchment envelope instructing Enjolras to attend to His Majesty the King the following day.

In truth, he very nearly almost missed it entirely, since Porter, who normally would have brought him such things, was confined to bed for the immediate future as he recovered – and the surgeon had been quite strict in his instructions. But Grantaire, far less used to having the number of servants Enjolras did, had seen it sitting on the table in the foyer and brought it into the dining room with him when he came in for breakfast.

“This is good news,” he told Grantaire after scanning through the note, though Grantaire didn’t look convinced.

“To be summoned in front of those with the power to strip you of your titles and lands and throw you in the Tower for the rest of your days, unless they decide to chop off your head instead?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Better a meeting with the King and Queen than the constable,” he pointed out. “Besides, there’s a limit to what they can do, and if they’re intervening now, it will serve to prevent the worst from happening.” He stood to leave the breakfast table before pausing and bending to kiss the top of Grantaire’s head. “In any case, the usual death in this situation would be by hanging, not beheading.”

“Because that’s so comforting a thought,” Grantaire said sourly.

“It should be.”

Grantaire stared at him. “The thought of you being hanged instead of beheaded?”

Enjolras gave him a look. “No, that the King wants to meet with me. I’m not fool enough to think my death by anything other than old age would bring you any comfort.”

Grantaire pretended to consider it. “Going out in a blaze of glory as you attempt to bring the whole damned system to its knees might.”

“Only if you are by my side as proof that I have won you over in the end.”

Grantaire’s expression softened for a moment. “I would die by your side in an instant, but I don’t think that’s proof of anything.” He kissed Enjolras before returning to the subject at hand. “In any case, why should the King wanting to meet with you bring me any comfort whatsoever?”

“Because it means the Crown wants this handled quickly and quietly,” Enjolras said. “Meaning very likely no public trial, and almost certainly no public execution.”

“That would be more comforting without the qualifiers ‘very likely’ and ‘almost certainly’.”

Enjolras sighed. “There is very little in life that is absolutely certain besides death and taxes.”

Grantaire smirked. “And as I have heard you rail about numerous times, the certainty of taxes is not always applied evenly.”

“Do you know, that may be the most romantic thing you have ever said to me,” Enjolras said, grinning at him.

“Oh, hush,” Grantaire said, but he was laughing, and seemed, for the moment at least, to forget his concerns about Enjolras’s impending appointment with the Crown.

They resurfaced in full force the following day as Enjolras adjusted his cravat while waiting for the carriage to pull around. “How do I look?” he asked, and Grantaire cast a baleful eye at him.

“Dressed well enough for a meeting with the King and Queen, and not at all like you’re headed to imprisonment or worse.”

Enjolras managed not to roll his eyes, mostly because he did not think it would help the situation. “Luckily for both us, I highly doubt the latter options will come to pass.”

But Grantaire didn’t smile, just reaching out to take Enjolras’s hand. “Just come back to me,” he whispered.

“I have every intention of doing so,” Enjolras told him, his voice low.

Grantaire sighed. “You know I’m going to be a nervous wreck until you do,” he said. “Just like I am every time you’re in danger, even if normally you’re the idiot who’s put yourself there.”

Enjolras half-smiled. “Arguably I’ve put myself in this danger as well.”

Grantaire gave him a look. “We’ve had this argument before,” he said evenly.

“Yes, and I still refuse to cast any blame on you.”

Grantaire just shook his head. “An argument we’ll have to continue another time, it seems.”

Now Enjolras managed a real smile. “Yes, and all the more reason for me to return. You know I hate to leave a fight unfinished.”

“No, you hate to leave a fight unwon,” Grantaire said pointedly, but for the first time all morning, he looked a little less miserable, and Enjolras took that as a small win in and of itself.

“Are they not one and the same?” he asked innocently, leaning in to kiss Grantaire, who stopped him, his face falling again.

“Enjolras—” he started, and Enjolras frowned.

“What?”

Grantaire searched his expression for a moment before blurting, “I have never once wished you to be less than who you are, and I do not wish it now. The man I love does not back down from a challenge, and his tongue is sharper than any sword.” He paused as if choosing his next words carefully. “But I beg of you, tread lightly. I will not love you less for holding back if it means you survive to fight another day.”

Enjolras did kiss him then, a slow, heated kiss that said hopefully everything he couldn’t bring himself. “I cannot promise my mouth will not get me in trouble. But I do promise I will not deliberately seek it out.” Grantaire made a face and Enjolras gave him a pointed look. “It’s as good a promise as you will get from me.”

“I know.”

“And yet you don’t seem satisfied.”

Grantaire sighed. “I will be satisfied when you are home with me again.”

“And with luck, that will be before you know it,” Enjolras told him bracingly, so convincingly that he almost believed it himself, enough to get him out the door and into the carriage before finally allowing himself to feel the nerves he’d been trying to swallow all morning.

What he had told Grantaire was the truth: this meeting almost certainly meant no real punishment was in store for him.

But he had very little idea of what was in store for him. And that worried him most of all.

----------

Enjolras slowly closed the door behind him, unsurprised when Grantaire immediately appeared from the drawing room, a glass of whiskey in hand, which, judging by the glassiness of his eyes, wasn’t the first he’d had. “Are you ruined?” he asked.

“Define ruined,” Enjolras said, a little grimly.

Grantaire scowled. “Perhaps now is not the time to be glib.”

Enjolras just shook his head as he crossed to him, dropping a kiss on his lips and grabbing the glass of whiskey from his hand, downing it in one gulp. “I wasn’t,” he rasped, handing the glass back to Grantaire and making his way into the drawing room. “The fact is that there is a limit to the punishment I can receive, barring criminal conviction and without an Act of Parliament.” He collapsed onto the couch, reaching up automatically to loosen his cravat. “The Crown has taken what actions it can, which is to say, I am no longer the Viscount of Digne.”

He delivered the words solemnly, but Grantaire just blinked in response. “I did not realize that you were.”

“It is a customary title bestowed upon the current Marquess of Enjolras, with some associated lands,” Enjolras said with a shrug. “Both will be given to more deserving peers, I’m sure.” He hesitated before adding, “Also, none of our issue will be eligible to inherit my title or any lands, save for that which I own outright.”

Grantaire stared blankly at him. “Any of our issue?” he repeated. “As in children?”

Enjolras made a face. “Well, technically my issue. I don’t think the Crown cares so much about yours.” He cleared his throat. “But if I were to remarry and sire children, none of those children would inherit.”

Grantaire raised both eyebrows. “And what are the chances of that?”

“Absolutely none,” Enjolras said, barking a dry laugh. “The King has also told me that my services to his Court will no longer be necessary, meaning my various ceremonial duties will doled out to others and my power at Court, so to speak, is diminished. Beyond that, I retain my title of Marquess and associated lands and riches, which means I will lead a very comfortable life.” He reached out for Grantaire’s hand, lacing their fingers together before raising his hand to his lips to kiss his knuckles. “With you at my side, and without having to hide. So to answer your question, no, I don’t consider that ruin. I consider that a gift.”

Grantaire looked relieved, but he still hesitated. “Even though I will be almost certainly landless and penniless?” he asked, and when Enjolras just frowned at him, he sighed and elaborated, “I doubt highly my father will continue to grant me my allowance and use of the houses when he receives Le Cabuc’s letter.”

Enjolras squeezed his hand. “The Enjolras purse has sustained this family for generations. There’s more than enough left to take care of the man I love.”

Grantaire searched his expression for a moment. “Yet you don’t seem completely satisfied. What else did the King say?”

“Well—”

Before Enjolras could elaborate further, someone cleared her throat from the doorway, and they both turned to look at Enjolras’s mother, who looked unusually somber. “Am I interrupting?”

On instinct alone, Enjolras started to pull his hand away from Grantaire’s, but Grantaire held tight, squaring his shoulders as he met Enjolras’s mother’s expression coolly. “As a matter of fact, you are. Your son and I are having a private conversation.”

He turned back to Enjolras, who tried not to laugh at the look on his mother’s face. But to his surprise, his mother did not immediately snap some dismissive rebuttal, instead inclining her head slightly. “And you have my apologies for intruding, especially at this trying time. But I need to speak to my son, alone, especially in light of his recent visit to the palace.”

Enjolras wasn’t surprised that she had somehow heard about his summons. “Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of me,” Grantaire said firmly. “Your son and I are sharing our lives, and that includes dealing with whatever family affairs you’ve brought with you.” He again turned to look at her. “And need I remind you, your part in our deception has not yet been revealed, but I will be more than happy to tell anyone and everyone who will listen what drove your son to the desperation of a fake marriage in the first place. I doubt highly your friends among the nobility will be impressed by what they learn.”

Enjolras’s mother’s lips pursed, but again, Enjolras was completely thrown by her response. “Thank you,” she said simply, and Grantaire’s cold expression slipped as he glanced over at Enjolras, who just shrugged. “I can see that you are protective of my son, and while I may not appreciate your tone, I do appreciate knowing that my son has found someone who loves him as...vigorously as you clearly do.”

Grantaire’s eyes narrowed, but Enjolras cleared his throat. “It’s fine,” he told Grantaire, squeezing his hand once more. “I trust her enough to have a conversation with her, and I can fight my own battles as needed.”

“Are you certain?” Grantaire asked in an undertone, eyeing Enjolras’s mother warily. “I believe you can fight your own battles, but it’s her I don’t trust…”

Enjolras rolled his eyes affectionately. “I have managed this long,” he assured him.

“Fine.” Grantaire stood, but before leaving, he bent and kissed Enjolras, a long, slow kiss that Enjolras was fairly certain was for his mother’s benefit more than his own.

Not that he minded, since getting to kiss Grantaire and enrage his mother in the same blow was as close to perfection as Enjolras was likely to see in his lifetime.

Then Grantaire straightened again and winked at Enjolras before finally leaving, sidling past his mother with little more than a second glance. For her part, his mother looked mostly impassive at the display she had just witnessed, and she finally fully entered the room, perching imperiously on the armchair. “I suppose it’s too much to hope for tea,” she said with a sniff.

Enjolras barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes again. “You might have heard that my butler was attacked,” he said sourly. “I’m sorry if him being laid up recovering from being shot is inconvenient to you.”

“I did hear about Porter, yes, but that’s not to what I was referring,” she said. “Have the servants started fleeing en masse?”

“None have yet offered their resignations, if that’s what you mean,” Enjolras said.

“Of course it’s what I mean,” she snapped. “This is a tainted household now – I doubt most will want to stay. Especially as they’ve no way to ingratiate themselves with whomever the next Marquess will be.” Her lips pursed again. “Do you even know which distant relative is your heir, now that you will almost certainly never sire children of your own?”

Enjolras shrugged unconcernedly. “A third cousin, isn’t it? Lives somewhere out in the west, if memory serves.”

Her eyebrows knit together. “I’m surprised you know that.”

“You once told me all about him when I threatened to abdicate after Father died,” Enjolras said mildly. “You seemed to think it would convince me to think otherwise.”

“Clearly it did.”

Enjolras laughed dryly. “I hate to tell you, Mother, but that actually played a very small part in my decision.”

She scowled. “Perhaps you should have abdicated back then. It may have made for an easier transition for all involved.”

“Perhaps so,” Enjolras said honestly, as it wasn’t the first time the thought had crossed his mind. “But we are well past that point now.”

“In more ways than one.” She paused, giving him a searching look. “I don’t suppose there’s any point in trying to convince you to reconsider.”

Enjolras shook his head. “None.”

His mother nodded, her expression unreadable. “Then that’s the end of it.”

Enjolras hesitated, before saying, as casually as he could manage, “You seem…decidedly less surprised by this whole situation than I would expect.”

“What precisely is there to be surprised about?” she asked.

There were any number of things that Enjolras had expected her to be either shocked or scandalized by, let alone surprised, but the look on her face stopped him. “You mean…you knew?”

“That you were…otherwise inclined?” she provided delicately. “Of course I knew. A mother always knows.” Her expression twisted. “Though I rather hoped you would grow out of it, or at least do the sensible thing and marry a woman while seeking your amusement elsewhere.”

Enjolras shook his head slowly. “I’m not certain I see that as the sensible thing.”

She considered it for a moment before shrugging. “Perhaps not,” she said. “But more sensible than being stripped of your lands and titles.”

“Not all my lands, or all my titles,” Enjolras told her. “The Viscount of Digne is the only major one.”

She made a face. “No real loss there, the bishop in that area rules it with an iron fist and will probably be glad to see the backside of our family.”

Enjolras trusted her to know more about it than he did or frankly cared to. “And there’s a few minor lands that will be redistributed but for the most part, Grantaire and I have made it out unscathed.”

Again his mother made a face. “I don’t know that I would go that far—”

“I imagine you wouldn’t,” Enjolras muttered.

“—But all things considered, it could have been much worse.”

On that, at least, she was correct. “And I’m certain you’ll be glad to know that your own holdings will not be affected, nor your allowance,” he told her. “And Grantaire is letting you keep the dowry.”

That seemed to surprise her. “That is...generous of him,” she allowed, before frowning at her son. “But you speak as if all you think I care about is money.”

Enjolras just arched an eyebrow. “You have given me little evidence to suggest otherwise.”

“Caring about the well-being of my only son isn’t evidence enough?”

He managed not to roll his eyes, but just barely. “Faux sincerity isn’t your strong suit, Mother,” he informed her. “If you wish to convince me, you’ll have to try a different tack.”

To his surprise, she laughed lightly. “Maybe I will, when all the dust has settled,” she said, standing and brushing invisible dust from her skirt before telling him, “I will be leaving the city for the near future, and possibly even the country for a bit. I need my friends and allies at court to think that I was not party to this.”

“You weren’t,” Enjolras said, his brow furrowed. “And you are certainly at liberty to tell anyone you need to as such.”

“I have, and I will,” she said. “But I will also not outwardly condemn you the way they would wish, and that to some is enough to make them think otherwise.”

For the first time in what Enjolras was certain was his entire life, he was speechless. He had frankly expected her to do exactly that in order to maintain her social standing. “You could,” he blurted, ignoring the raised eyebrow she gave him. “Condemn us, I mean. I would not hold it against you if you did.”

“You and I both know that you absolutely would,” she said dryly. “But more than that, you are my son. For all your faults and all our disagreements, public and otherwise, that has never changed. And it will not change now.”

Enjolras was again taken aback by what she said. “Thank you,” he managed, before adding, a little wryly, “I think.”

A small smile crossed her face. “You’re welcome, I think. And now I should leave you to the start of your new life.”

She turned to head to the door, clearly deeming her role in this complete for the time being, but Enjolras stopped her, his curiosity getting the better of him. “What do you think of Grantaire?” he asked. “Now that you know what he is to me.”

She looked back at him, surprised. “You have never sought my approval before.”

“And I’m not seeking it now,” Enjolras said. “Just curious what you think.”

She nodded slowly. “He is not who I would have chosen for you,” she said after a long moment. “But then again, this life is not what I would have chosen for you.”

It was no more than what Enjolras had expected, but before he could say anything, she continued, “I know what you think of me, that you think me cold, and vain, and cruel. And there is certainly more than a little truth to that.” He looked up at her sharply, surprised by this most of all. “I know I shall always play the role of villain in your story. But despite what you may think, I have only ever wanted you to be happy.” She hesitated. “And it makes me terribly sad to know you have chosen a path where the world very well may never let you be happy.”

Enjolras just shook his head slowly. “The difference between you and I, Mother, is that I have never needed the approval of the world to be happy.” He gave her a sharp smile. “Hang what anyone else thinks. So long as I have Grantaire, we will make our own happiness.”

She returned his smile. “I do not doubt that you will. As I said before, you two make quite the pair, and whatever else you may think, I am glad that you two found each other.”

With that, she left, and Enjolras sat where he was for a long moment, digesting everything that had transpired. This had been a day of surprises, from his meeting with the King and Queen to now his conversation with his mother, and he shook his head slowly before standing to go find Grantaire.

He found him in the library, sitting sideways in an oversized armchair, his legs draped over the arm of the chair as he skimmed through a book with seemingly little interest. He brightened when he saw Enjolras come in, tipping his head up automatically for a kiss. “Is she gone?” he asked as Enjolras settled onto the sofa across from him.

“For now, yes.”

Grantaire’s eyes narrowed. “But not forever?”

Enjolras shook his head. “No, I’m afraid not even this scandal was enough to be rid of her forever. But I am...strangely not as bothered by that thought as I once would have been.”

Grantaire blinked. “Did she hit you on the head while she was in there with you?”

“Something like that, anyway,” Enjolras said with a laugh. “But enough about my mother. Where were we?”

He eyed Grantaire appreciatively, mentally trying to determine the mechanics of what they could do with him in that position, and Grantaire scowled. “Certainly not doing that,” he informed him, sitting upright. “You were finishing telling me about your audience with the King and Queen.”

“Oh. Right.” Enjolras shrugged and looked away. “Well, the Archbishop is apparently pushing for us to be excommunicated.”

Grantaire snorted. “Does that mean I no longer have to go to church?” he asked idly.

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Well, among other things. But there’s an issue.”

“What’s that?”

“We could be imprisoned if we’re excommunicated, for a start.”

Grantaire just arched an eyebrow. “Just as we could be imprisoned for sodomy?”

Enjolras made a face. “The Crown has no intention of pursuing those charges,” he said. “But getting excommunicated could lend credence to future attempts at levying those charges, at likely the least opportune time.”

Grantaire considered it for a moment. “Well. We’ve faced worse prospects.”

Enjolras frowned. “You seem remarkably blasé about the prospect of excommunication, considering how concerned you’ve been about the possibility of imprisonment or worse for the other charges.”

“Mostly because you don’t seem particularly worried about it, and I imagine if this were an actual threat, you’d be somewhat less calm,” Grantaire said evenly. “Besides, I had several glasses of whiskey while you were out so it will take quite a bit for me to get riled at this point.”

“You didn’t seem to have any difficulty getting riled at my mother,” Enjolras pointed out.

Grantaire smiled grimly. “That was a more immediate danger.”

Enjolras shook his head. “Well, you’re not wrong about this not being an actual threat, I suppose. The Monarchy has little desire to create a public spectacle via excommunication and as the Head of the Church, I imagine that’s the end of the matter.”

Grantaire nodded slowly. “Does that mean you’re actually going to tell me what’s wrong?”

“Excommunication isn’t enough?” Enjolras asked, mostly rhetorically, and when Grantaire just gave him a look, he sighed. “Fine… I need to get word to Combeferre and Courfeyrac. We have much to discuss ahead of our next meeting.”

“Are you purposefully avoiding the question, or…?”

“I promise I am not,” Enjolras said, his voice low. “But they need to know, because this concerns all of us.” He paused, trying to figure out how to word what he needed to tell both Grantaire and his closest lieutenants. “I was...as surprised as any that the King did not wish to pursue any additional punitive matters. As a whole, the punishment dealt to me is mild, to say the least. And what troubles me is the reason he gave for why.”

Grantaire frowned. “He gave you a reason?”

Enjolras barked a dry, humorless laugh. “Oh, he gave me many. Most were mere platitudes, that out of respect for the service of my father, he would take no additional measures, etcetera, but he also alluded to his hope that our...situation would not inconvenience my political work.” He cleared his throat before adding sardonically, “That he hoped our allies would not abandon us with my public declaration of depravity.”

“And you suspect he actually hopes the opposite,” Grantaire said slowly.

Enjolras nodded. “I’m not going to pretend that my political sympathies are or have ever been well-received at court, and I think most were content to look the other way and pretend that the protests and political actions were the fun side project of an otherwise bored noble. Something I would grow out of in time. But now…”

He trailed off, and Grantaire’s expression turned grim. “Now they might not be so content to look the other way.”

“No,” Enjolras agreed. “And if I or any of our number were to get arrested—”

“Arrested again, you mean,” Grantaire said with the hint of a smile that Enjolras did not return.

“—My position is no longer enough to stave off any significant consequences.”

Grantaire went very still. “Meaning what?”

“Meaning I may not be ruined. We may not be ruined. But Les Amis may be.”

----------

In lieu of coming over to Enjolras’s to discuss the situation, Combeferre suggested via return message that they call a special meeting of Les Amis. “That seems unusual,” Grantaire murmured, his brow furrowed as he read over the brief message. “Why would they not just come here?”

Enjolras shrugged. “Perhaps they don’t want to be seen entering a den of sin,” he said, more blithely than he remotely felt.

“Jest all you wish, but you cannot pretend the thought hasn’t entered your mind,” Grantaire said. “Not that I believe any of our friends will turn on us entirely, but they are all trying to make marriages of their own, and to be tainted by association…”

He trailed off, and Enjolras just shook his head. “That is their prerogative, and I will not hold it against any man to abide by his conscience.”

“Or by the prospect of increasing his purse?” Grantaire asked sourly.

Enjolras shrugged again. “If that is truly their reasoning, I doubt highly we would be associates for much longer in any case.”

Still, it was with an unusual amount of trepidation that they approached the Musain, and Enjolras hesitated before instructing his driver to drop them off at the back of the building by the worker’s entrance. “I do not doubt they would still receive us at the front entrance,” he told Grantaire. “I am, after all, still a marquess and a certain amount of respect must be paid. But I would rather not put them in that position all the same.”

Grantaire managed a wan smile. “You need not explain yourself to me,” he said. “I understand as well as any that the situation is complicated.”

Enjolras glanced at him. “Speaking of,” he said carefully, “have you heard yet from your father?”

“No.” Grantaire’s tone was clipped as he avoided meeting Enjolras’s eyes, looking out the carriage window instead. “I have not heard from him one way or another, so I have no indication if he has yet received Le Cabuc’s letter.”

“Could Le Cabuc have been bluffing?”

Grantaire shrugged. “Anything’s possible, but I doubt it,” he said. “He always did prefer my father to me.” He hesitated before adding, “I thought I might make a preemptive trip back to the house and gather some belongings. Just some personal effects, and things from my mother and sister that I would rather not lose to my father’s whims.”

Enjolras nodded slowly. “That is probably not a terrible idea.” He hesitated before asking, “Do you wish for me to accompany you?”

“I suspect that would cause more problems than it’s worth,” Grantaire said. “If I go by myself, I can hopefully slip in and out mostly unnoticed.”

Enjolras had expected that answer, but he couldn’t pretend that it didn’t sting, just a little. “Of course.”

Something of what he was feeling must’ve shown on his face, but Grantaire’s expression softened as he added, “Which doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t love for you to return with me, or that I won’t miss you dreadfully while I’m gone.”

“But this is the reality of the life we’ve chosen,” Enjolras said heavily. “Going in the servants’ entrance to avoid being seen. Travelling incognito to not cause a scene. Less visitors or invitations to visit because people won’t wish to be associated with us.”

Grantaire eyed him warily. “I feel as though you are trying to make a point.”

Enjolras shrugged. “Just that I do not care about any of those things. But I would understand if you did, and if the reality of our life together does not align with what you may otherwise have expected.”

To his surprise, Grantaire laughed. “How many times must you and I have this conversation?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I wish that you had chosen a better life for yourself than one stuck with me, who was always titleless and is about to be in short order landless and penniless to boot, just as you wish I had chosen a better life for myself,” Grantaire said, a little impatiently. “But you and I both know that the best choice, the only choice, is each other and whatever accompanies that.”

Enjolras laughed as well, feeling a little relieved that they were on the same page in terms of what mattered. “You’re right.”

“I usually am,” Grantaire said smugly before reaching for Enjolras’s hand and lacing their fingers together. Une vie et un amour, remember?”

“Fidelitas usque ad mortem,” Enjolras said, his voice low, and Grantaire smiled.

“And I still aim to be.”

Together, they stepped down from the carriage and made their way into the Musain through the backdoor. The workers they passed barely gave them second glances, though Enjolras assumed that was likely because they recognized them as frequent patrons, and knew better than to stop or question them.

But despite arriving almost a half hour before the meeting Combeferre had called was set to begin, when they reached the backroom, they could hear the buzz of voices through the closed door. Grantaire gave him a startled look. “Has the meeting already begun?”

“It certainly appears that way,” Enjolras said, feeling inexplicably nervous as he stared at the closed door, straining to hear what was being said beyond it.

“Did Combeferre not say that it would start at 9?”

Enjolras nodded. “He did, but…” He trailed off, not willing to vocalize his doubts. Instead, he squared his shoulders and opened the door, walking in with Grantaire at his side. Combeferre and Courfeyrac stood at the front of the room, the rest of their number assembled, all looking unusually somber, and all conversation stalled as soon as they looked back at Enjolras. “Forgive the interruption,” Enjolras said coolly, closing the door behind him. “I did not realize the hour of our meeting had changed.”

“It didn’t,” Combeferre said, his expression impassive. “But there was certain business we felt we should attend to before your arrival.”

“What sort of business?” Grantaire asked with a frown.

Combeferre did not seem deterred by his tone. “The business of determining if your continued membership amongst our association is beneficial or a detriment, mostly.”

“I see,” Enjolras said, his heart sinking in his chest. “Well, don’t let us impede your discussion.”

“We have nothing left to discuss,” Courfeyrac interjected. “All that remains is to vote.”

Grantaire reached out and took Enjolras’s hand, lacing their fingers together firmly. Combeferre cleared his throat. “All those in favor of expelling Enjolras and Grantaire from our number due to their sexual deviance and the threat that it poses to Les Amis and our efforts?”

Not a single hand rose in the air, and Grantaire squeezed Enjolras’s hand.

“And all those opposed?”

As one, all of their friends raised their hands before standing and applauding. Joly and Bossuet were positively beaming, Courfeyrac wolf-whistled, and Combeferre stepped forward to embrace Enjolras. “There was never any doubt which way the vote would go,” he told Enjolras, “but I knew you would not be satisfied if there was no vote at all.”

“Besides, if we start exiling people for buggery, there are more than a few of us who would be in trouble,” Courfeyrac said cheerfully as he embraced Enjolras as well.

“Hear, hear,” Bahorel chortled.

Joly took Bossuet’s hand and squeezed it. “Grantaire helped us avoid a scandal of our own, and we owe him our loyalty,” he said. “Besides which, I swore to go through fire for you, and I would not forsake that oath lightly.”

“Thank you, my friends,” Enjolras said quietly, his chest tight with emotion.

Grantaire squeezed his hand once more before leaning in and whispering in his ear, “It appears I am not the only one who understands the meaning of loyalty until death.” Enjolras wordlessly squeezed his hand in return and Grantaire smiled at him before asking Courfeyrac, “But one of our number is missing, is he not? Where is your erstwhile roommate this evening?”

“Oh, he has found the girl he was looking for,” Courfeyrac said airily. “It turns out your little announcement was good for more than one thing – she was the one who swooned in his arms!”

Much laughter greeted that announcement and Enjolras shook his head. “Leave it to Marius…” he started before trailing off, glancing around the room at the smiling faces of each of his friends, all those whom he loved most in this world. “Thank you all,” he said softly. “I know this will not be easy, but I appreciate your continued faith and love.”

“Our goal has always been to fight against oppressive powers in whatever form,” Combeferre told him. “And condemning men based on consensual acts in their bed chamber would be playing into that oppression.”

“Just promise us one thing,” Bossuet interjected.

Enjolras raised both eyebrows. “What’s what?”

“No funny business,” Bossuet said, mock-sternly. “No suddenly agreeing with everything the other says just because it’s your lover saying it.”

Again everyone laughed and Enjolras shook his head good-naturedly. “I don’t think we’re in much danger of that.”

“After all,” Grantaire added slyly, “what I love far more than him agreeing with me is that delightful shade of red he gets when he so vehemently disagrees with me. Who am I to give that up now?”

“In truth,” Enjolras said when the laughter again died down, “we aim to keep things as much the same as we can.”

“And we’ll be relying on you lot to keep it that way,” Grantaire said.

“There’s one other promise we would ask,” Feuilly said, glancing around. “Or at least, that I would ask.”

Enjolras’s smile faded, just slightly, at Feuilly’s far more serious tone. “If it is in our power to grant it, we will.”

“No more lies.” There were a few murmurs of agreement that Feuilly waited to die down before continuing, “There is not a man among us who does not understand the reason for your deception, but we in this room are brothers, and we deserve the truth no matter what consequence it may bring.”

Grantaire took Enjolras’s hand once more and squeezed it before affirming, “No more lies. We owe not just you the truth from here on out, but each other as well. And it’s the very least that we can give in return for your generosity and personal sacrifices.”

“In that case, let us open the wine and get the celebration started,” Jehan called, standing up on his chair to be seen. “To Enjolras and Grantaire!”

“To Enjolras and Grantaire!” everyone repeated, whatever glasses they had in hand, and Enjolras rolled his eyes with obvious affection before leaning in and kissing Grantaire as everyone cheered.

Grantaire was grinning as he pulled away, and that sight alone was enough to make everything they had endured and everything that they had left to endure absolutely worth it in Enjolras’s opinion. But before he could say anything to that effect to Grantaire, Joly and Bossuet grabbed Grantaire by both arms, tugging him away. “You owe us more than mere truth,” Joly said, with an almost evil grin. “You owe us details.”

“Exactly,” Bossuet said, wearing a matching smile. “And we want to hear all about your first time bedding Enjolras.”

“We promised the truth, not all the gory details,” Grantaire protested, making a pleading face at Enjolras, who just laughed.

Before he could rescue him, Combeferre pulled him aside. “I wanted a moment, if it is not too much of an imposition.”

Enjolras clapped him on the shoulder. “For you, my friend, never. Especially as I believe I owe you especially an apology for our deceit.”

Combeferre shook his head. “I understand it more now,” he said. “And honestly, I’m surprised I did not put the pieces together earlier.”

“Grantaire said he was always a little obvious, even if I never noticed either,” Enjolras said good-naturedly.

But Combeferre just shook his head. “Grantaire may have been, but it’s you I should have noticed.”

“Me?”

Combeferre shrugged. “Looking back on it, all the clues were there, least of all how you allowed Grantaire to stay, not just for meetings, but well into the night when you were ostensibly working, a privilege bestowed on no one else. And I cannot help but think that if I had noticed sooner, we would have had more time to plan, to minimize the fallout.”

Enjolras just shook his head. “My friend, you could have told me until you were blue in the face that I was completely and obviously in love with Grantaire, and I would never have believed you,” he said. “It was something I needed to figure out with him.” He made a face. “Though you are right that I should have told you sooner, before we made our announcement, so that plans could have been made in advance, and for that, I do owe you an apology.”

“One that I readily accept,” Combeferre told him. “And the only recompense I ask from you is the answer to this: are you happy?”

“Yes,” Enjolras said, without even needing to consider it. “More so than I thought was possible, or at least probable.”

Combeferre gave him a wide, genuine smile. “Then the rest we will deal with when or if the time comes.”

Again, Enjolras’s chest felt tight with emotion, with the weight of how much his friends cared for him and Grantaire. “I truly do not know how to thank you, how to thank everyone, for what you have given Grantaire and myself.”

“There is no need to thank us,” Combeferre said. “Especially since you have given us something equally precious.”

“What do you mean?”

“You are free,” Combeferre said simply. “And that gives the rest of us hope.”

----------

Enjolras let out a sigh of relief mingled with happiness as he sat down in the waiting carriage. Grantaire clambered in after him, and sat down on the bench next to him instead of sitting across from him. “That went well.”

“That went far better than well,” Enjolras said.

Grantaire glanced sideways at him. “Surely you did not expect Combeferre or Courfeyrac to abandon you, or honestly any of our friends.”

Enjolras just shrugged. “In truth, I did not know what to expect.” He nudged Grantaire gently. “Thank you, by the way.”

“Whatever for?”

“For making my life complete,” Enjolras said honestly. “And so completely happy.”

Grantaire smiled at him, his eyes shining even in the dim light of the carriage, but he promptly ruined the moment by asking, “How much wine did you drink?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “I had half a glass at best,” he protested. “Not nearly enough to undermine my sincerity. Nor my conviction that somehow, against all odds and, frankly, against our own efforts to the contrary, everything for us is turning out better than I ever could have imagined, let alone hoped.”

Grantaire rested his head against Enjolras’s shoulder. “We have been extraordinarily lucky,” he murmured.

“We have been,” Enjolras agreed, squeezing Grantaire’s hand. “We have our friends, and we have each other. Whatever else comes our way, so long as we still have that, we will be fine.”

“More than fine,” Grantaire corrected, raising Enjolras’s hand to his lips to kiss his knuckles. “Our future will be happy. Of that, I am as certain as anything.”

“Being in love really has changed you if you suddenly start espousing convictions,” Enjolras teased.

But Grantaire just smiled at him. “It’s changed us both.”

“For the better?” Enjolras asked.

Grantaire kissed him, a gentle, sweet kiss that was a promise of more to come. “For the best.”

#enjolras #grantaire #exr #enjolras x grantaire #enjoltaire #les amis #bridgerton au #canon era #regency au #chaptered #part 13 #fake marriage

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fuckthisshitimin · 3 years ago

Text

The Show’s On

Part 2 here

Read on ao3

They’re pretty.

That’s all she has the time to think, really, because everything is so fast. She’s feeling hot, and her hands on the guitar are a little messier than she’d like. It’s not the first time she has a gig here, but it’s the first time she’s alone on the stage. It was hard to convince the manager that she could do it. That she had that fire in her.

It’s easier with a band. But you also get paid less. And you have to work with other people. Constantly.

Maybe they’re too young, though.

Tonight she’s on that stage with something to prove, and if by morning her voice is dead and her legs shake so much she can’t walk, it’ll be okay. She’s giving it her all, and when she looks at the room, they’re still here, so close to the stage, if they extended their arm, they could touch her legs.

That wouldn’t be so bad. Fuck, are they legal?

And she looks closer at them. At their high-waisted black pants and earrings, at the line of their collarbones disappearing into a silky shirt, at their soft-looking net, and she realizes how they stand out. She realizes why it’s so easy to notice them. They’re not dancing. Just, standing there. Looking at her with focused eyes. Unblinking, unmoving, undisturbed even when their eyes cross. She almost stutters, almost loses her rhythm. They have that unreadable expression, stern and yet alive, and they can’t have missed that she missed a note. And they smirk.

Like they have the right to do that.

Like they have the right to stand still at the very edge of the scene and judge her performance, to disturb it with a stupid cute face and a way too proper silky shirt, like they have the right to smirk at her mistakes, safe in the crowd, and fuck that judgmental coward, she thinks, with their green staring eyes and their unmoving feet, fuck them, fuck all the people that observe her, waiting for her to make a mistake, to fall.

Fuck them because she already made mistakes, and she already fell to the ground and below. Fuck them, fuck the safety they hide in.

She’ll give them what they want. She’ll crash like they expect he too, but she’ll be damned if she doesn’t do it with all her desecrated grace.

She smiles back, fierce and unyielding. Three songs before the end of her set. She plays harder. She can’t feel her fingers anymore, and she’s pretty sure her make up is ruined from the sweat. Fuck them all.

“I’m the Owl Lady, and my EP’s for sale at the bar, cowards!”

“Can I get you a drink? Maybe?”

Eda downs her second glass of water in one go, gesturing for the barmaid to give her another one.

That’s the kid from earlier. Well, now that she gets a closer look, she guesses they might be approximately her age, though they didn’t drop out of school like she did. She laughs, thanking the barmaid with a nod when her new glass of water arrives. She complimented her on her set, and the adrenaline doesn’t look like it would go away any time soon. Sitting still is a pain, but her whole body aches. She’s exhausted, really, on the verge of collapsing. Yet, she doesn’t want anything more than she wants to get back on that stage.

But she’ll have to do with drinking and dancing, and she’ll have to do without the invisible wall between her and the audience, between her and that staring bitch that dares smile again.

“Are you even old enough to drink? How did they let you in?”

“Actually, it’s my birthday. Just turned twenty-one.”

Just a one-year gap, then? Which means they aren’t technically too young for her. But they still have those unnerving staring eyes. They look like they’re trying to see what’s behind. Her secrets and her fears. She doesn’t like the curiosity, she doesn’t like the smile, either.

“What, am I supposed to wish you a happy birthday? Go fuck yourself. Cat, get me a beer.”

“On it.”

“I’m sorry, what the hell?”

Normally, just telling people off would do the trick. Eda is convincing enough, as the I-literally-bite kind of girl. But they just look positively astonished. Their mouth is open, their eyes, wide, they don’t even look mad. Their hands are hanging at their side, lifeless, and oh, here it comes. Now they look properly upset, brows furrowed and mouth closed tightly. She snickers.

“Look, kiddo, if you didn’t like my set, that’s your fucking problem, I’m not looking for any stupid constructive criticism, I don’t care about your thoughts, and since I played tonight, I get free drinks. So, yeah, go fucking fuck yourself.”

They open their mouth, momentarily at a loss of words as she smiles, and Catra snickers, too, when she opens a bottle of beer for her and puts it on the counter. The kid laughs bitterly, a weird smile on their face. And Eda thinks it’s a pity, really, that they are a jerk, for they have the cutest smile she’s seen in a while. It looks like they can kiss, like they’re starting to learn how to bite. Their eyes aren’t so dark yet.

“You really love to say fuck, don’t you?”

She shrugs, taking a sip from her beer.

“Every fucking chance I get.”

They cock their head, and she can’t help but grin wider. It’s more amusing when people answer. She would have expected them to just run away. But they stand firmly, eyes narrowing, and she swears she can see their fingers tense.

“I’ll answer in your language then. You are a real-life heartless bitch trope, and I actually came over to tell you your set was amazing, but if you’re so hung-up on playing the victim of this situation, I can play along and point out every time your voice faltered, every weakness in the way you write and play, and then tell you to go fuck yourself like you so nicely did when I just tried to have a polite conversation.”

She smiles so hard, she almost laughs. And she hears Catra, from her spot behind the bar, laugh herself, muttering something about liking this one.

“You piss me off,” she truthfully states, “you spent twenty minutes staring at me like you were plotting my demise and you have the audacity to say you liked my set? I don’t know if you lie out of pride or because you don’t want to get on my bad side, but trust me, that’s not your strong suit.”

“What, you’ve never been awestruck before? Out of everyone I heard tonight, you were the one that struck me as someone who would go places, I thought it would depend on whether your guts play for or against you. Repelling people won’t help you in this industry, but at least you’re as mean and quick to judge as the people that run it.”

She lifts her brows high on her forehead, and she has no clue how she is supposed to take this. It’s as much a compliment as it is an insult, and finally, she can’t hold back her laughter anymore, banging her fist on the counter. Gosh, she hasn’t had that much fun talking to someone in a while.

“Cat! Give them something to drink, they’re funny.”

She has to wipe a few tears, but she sees them deflate in a second. Their shoulders slump down, and their face pales, relaxes completely, blushes, and she laughs again. She gestures to them, trying to say something and failing as the laughter keeps her from forming words. They seat down on one of the stools, and it looks like all the energy they had was just drained from them.

“I don’t get it.”

She settles her breathing, letting out a few whimpers before clearing her throat, finally resting her chin on her head to look at them more steadily.

“Yeah, you don’t need to. Wait, sorry. You don’t fucking need to. I honestly don’t get it either. I rely on my guts, you see,” she grabs her boobs to demonstrate, laughing some more as she stands up, towering over them with the widest grin she can manage. “and my guts want to talk with you some more. What about you?”

They look up to her, and now that she’s so close, she can definitely make up the blush on their cheeks and ears, the drunken shining in their eyes, the uncertainty behind their smile. Fuck, they’re pretty. The kind of pretty that doesn’t last, stained with the innocence of people who have lived nicely sheltered their whole lives. Until now.

“I think my guts want to kiss you.”

They jump on their seat, like they are surprised, taken aback by their own words, and she bends forward, placing a slow kiss on their cheek. “I might be okay with that,” she hums in their ear. When she breaks away, she’s happy to see she left a red lipstick mark, and her head doddles from side to side as the exhaustion is finally catching up to her. They’re blurry, now, as they stumble up, dusting off their pants and looking around frantically.

“I-I shouldn’t have said that. I think I drank more than intended. I, uh, I’ll go home.”

She nods, containing her laugh. They are cute, too, as they shuffle through their purse to find their credit card. She knows better than forcing someone to stay and make them drink. They don’t look like they’re used to that. She’ll let them run away. It’s a bit of a waste, she thinks as she watches them disappearing in the crowd. She sighs, sitting back on her stool and downing her beer. She won’t be long either. She might dance just a bit before heading home, too. A strong hand grabs her shoulder, and she’s ready to fight the touch and snap before she sees a pair of green eyes so, so close, and, oh, she didn’t see that kiss coming, it’s hurried, it’s burning, it suddenly feels like the end of the world, and she’s left breathless when they break away, foam on their glasses, a drooly smile on their lips. She has a hard time gulping, remembering how to talk. They find their voice first, and now, she realizes she can hear their smile, so clear and warm.

“I’m a bit too drunk for my own taste, but can I see you again?”

She bites her lips, looking down at theirs. She could kiss them again. And again. And again. She doesn’t want to leave it at that. She wants to show them, she’s a better kisser than that, she can keep them up all night if they want to, she’s better when she’s in control. Fuck, she won’t let them surprise her again. No matter how good it makes her feel.

“I play at the Sugar Sugar Monday.”

They nod, and cock their head again.

“It’s going to be the longest weekend of my life.”

They walk away again, and she stares at the empty space they left for a long moment before burying her head in her arms, half chuckling. She doesn’t even know their name. Fuck. Kiss and run? That’s usually her thing. She tilts her head up when she hears Catra distinctive, mocking laugh.

“That has to be the quickest enemies to lovers I ever witnessed.”

She grumbles, getting a bit straighter in her seat. She looks at the door again. Who knows, maybe they’d come back again. She has no idea what she’d do if they appeared right now. She bites her lips, finishing her drink and starting to roll her cigarette for the way home.

“Well, you know I hate slow burns.” She never stays into someone long enough for that, too. Either she gets bored, or they deem her too much trouble for what she’s worth. Two weeks, tops. “Whatever I want, I want fast. If it has to burn, it better burn like a gas station.”

#raeda #toh raeda #raine whispers #edalyn clawthorne #i have a few ideas for what could happen after that?#but nothing sure?#the owl house #toh #toh fanfic #the owl house fanfic #raeda fanfic #enemies to lovers in five minutes #i'm with her

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autobotmedic · 2 years ago

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Verses

Disclaimer: the Aligned Continuity is a hecking mess so I am flexible and some verses may not be the same for everyone, depending on how I develop with each writing partner or what works the best for a concept (ex: Predacons Rising may be completely disregarded in some things tagged Post Series, but not in others, because they are all still set after the show).

––––––––––––––––––––––– –Related to Main Timeline– –––––––––––––––––––––––

Default, untagged

Posts without a verse tag are set at some point in time or variant that has not yet been determined. Because that happens a lot. I’m just here to have fun, extensive plotting is not necessarily required.

V: Pre Series

Set before the events of the show while Ratchet is in contact with the other Autobots, but actually traveling far more often outside of their base to help search for energon deposits all around Earth. May also include interactions set further back in human history than modern day, or on other worlds in years before the Autobots’ arrival to Earth while they are traveling elsewhere in the universe on the Ark.

V: Post Series

Set after the show’s conclusion, while Ratchet spends part of his time helping with the reconstruction of Cybertron, part of his time on Earth among their human friends and assisting Unit E. May also include the later-set Transformers: Robots in Disguise, such as his travels between TFP and RiD or set during the RiD series. Here is a video of clips for reference.

V: Post RiD

Set after the Robots in Disguise series, mostly as another division for a new part of his life, a better part with a healed Cybertron. It may consist of anything from his time as a High Councilor, to being a full time doctor once again, to teaching young robots at Rescue Bots Academy.

V: Cybertron

Also pre series, but not set on Earth nor space. Instead, this will include anything taking place on his homeworld, from before the war began to events and battles following. In other words, a younger Ratchet, ranging from being a normal doctor looking after patients without bias, to an Autobot bothered by his conscious when he must fight and use knowledge that was meant for healing to harm, and sometimes kill.

––––––––––– –Major AUs– –––––––––––

V: Shattered - Shattered Glass verse, aka blackmarket doctor/mad scientist.

With a reversed color scheme and unnerving cheerfulness even while treating someone severely injured, this doctor is still fully competent at his job, but he is not his grumpy yet comfortable counterpart. He loves science, but his study and experimentation is not ‘limited’ by ethics. He is more talkative, selfish, charming, carries a dark sense of humor rather than a dry one, and he is armed with a blaster.

Additionally, unlike the Ratchet who apprenticed for many stellar cycles to become the medic he is, Reamer’s background is significantly self-studied. Some of said hands on studying was far from moral, or legal… until the Autobots’ reign; since then, he has created various chemicals and tools used to assist Optimus Prime in warfare.

V: Toon - cartoon, fourth wall breaking concept, think Roger Rabbit

Honestly I wrote so much information in this post I will just link it here.

V: Mer Medic - merformers au

In the depths of the oceans, where humanity has yet to be capable of exploring, lives an ancient society. Stories suggesting their presence have appeared throughout human history, from ancient mythology to sailors’ tales of sea monsters. Some of these creatures are indeed malevolent and hunters of more than non-sentient fish, but many are benevolent in nature and have created peaceful communities and cities. At times, they have protected or helped humanity, but they often simply avoid land-dwellers due to their destructive chemicals and littering tendencies.

Among the Iacon Shoal, Ratchet is a well known doctor and elder, who has contributed both healing and technical knowledge for the betterment (and protection) of his kind over many years, fought in several skirmishes between groups, and has many children, and grandchildren, and great-grandchildren…

He is the same length as his usual height, and here is my art reference along with a few notes about this au.

V: Fae - faeformers au

Hatched outside the protection of a hive, Rescue spent the first stage of his life as a grub who burrowed and primarily focused on survival. The first other sentient insect he met was a caterpillar, who soon morphed into a moth, and the pair remained friends as they slowly learned about the world. In time, they interacted with other hiveless and learned written language and additional information about their kind. Rescue pursued science and magic related to health, primarily after he reached his second form, morphing into a beetle-like build.

However, the amount of knowledge available was still limited to a certain extent in the wilds, and Ratchet later sought to become a healer in Hive Iacon. Orion accompanied him, and although he continues working within, they live in a burrow outside of the busy city.

My art design for him may be found here. Some references may be made to sparkmender’s worldbuilding for a similar au.

V: Healer - deity au

Rescorre is one of the earliest beings forged on Cybertron, second only to the original Thirteen Primes. He was created alongside a handful of individuals with specific focuses in their overseeing the life of their world, intended to assist the Primes that came before them with their specialties. Rescorre’s abilities are related to mending and fast travel. He is able to analyze and manipulate mechanical biology without being hardlined (as a normal medic requires) for various purposes. He is also capable of teleportation, enabling him to traverse across great distance if he is needed or a prayer reaches him.

In early times, he became known as a representative for healers and families, as the healthy bond required for the development of a child forged by the union of sparks is also within his realm. He later had a temple, for a number of eons, where individuals came for his help, guidance, or blessing. But in time, like the other remaining Primes, he faded into mythological legend, and his temple slowly became overgrown with foliage and the blemishes of age. He is no less real, even if much fewer believe in his existence, and he continues to assist many the best he is able. Be it steadying a nervous hand in surgery, or reminding someone to double check their calculations for a mineral supplement, he continues to help when he can, unseen in the mortal dimension.

Art design reference will go here once I’ve made it, but the main difference in his design are additional biolights lining his inner hands and forming decorative glyphs of ancient language across his armor.

–––––––––––––––– –Other Universes– ––––––––––––––––

V: Animated - a verse for Transformers: Animated.

Ratchet is incredibly similar overall, and the differences in regards to personality are due to largely different story elements compared to Prime version. He is more of a soldier than a scientist, and rougher in demeanor, a veteran who thought his time of fighting had concluded, only to be dragged back into it along with a bunch of ‘young bots.’ However, his heart shows when it counts, and he is just as determined and skilled as a medic as his Prime verse.

In height, he is smaller than his Prime version, standing at 5.35 M or 17.5 Ft. In equipment, he is armed with electromagnets and an EMP generator, not duel swords and a hand torch.

V: Tyran - a verse for the Live Action movies and related content.

Before the war that tore apart their world, Ratchet was a member of the Science Division led by Optimus, specifically the biology department. He was also among the researchers of artifacts and ancient fragments when a link was discovered to Optimus' heritage as a Prime. Unfortunately, the peace Sentinel had brought about for their world did not last, and he stayed with the Autobots as the clashes between power and freedom escalated. He continued to stay with them, mending and fighting alongside individuals who were once his co-workers, as they traveled through space. The Allspark eventually lead them to Earth, and despite all the pain, struggles, and strife, there he remained.

He does not die in AOE, but I have more than one version of how he survives, so I am happy to discuss whatever may be preferred with writing partners.

Although I haven't gotten around to redesigning him myself, my inspiration is the TFU concept art, and he shares the same 7.5 M or 24.6 Ft height with TFP default. For weaponry, he has blades and a flamethrower.

V: Cyber - a verse for Transformers: Cyberverse

Due to how minimal his appearances have been, often implied more than anything, I use significant Prime inspiration for his personality and voice, as well as a heavier build. He is, however, not overwhelmed as often, for he has proper medical facilities on the Ark, and he is not in charge of the science department too. He is just the medic, and that is what he does best. He is quite familiar with the multiverse, however, due to several events in the series.

With the help of a friend to determine an estimate of his size, I am going with 6 M or 19.7 Ft. His primary protection is a Triage Shield, a form of protective bubble for himself and to help wounded on the battlefield.

#musepage

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sandwichrin · 3 years ago

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A Little into You (Junkyu x Reader) (Ch. 21)

Chapter 21 - Confessions.

Word count: 4.8k words

Genre: Fanfiction, PG13, Comedy, Romance.

A/N: Good morning! Chapter 21 is up! Thank you all for supporting this fic. I couldn’t have done it without all y’all’s love and continuous support. Enjoy this one 🧡

“What?” Chani scoffed in disbelief.

“Y-yeah! It’s true, I met Y/n first!”

“Oh, so we’re playing firsts now, huh?” Chani said, his tone giving a hint of sarcasm.

“You started it first! I was only countering what you said!”

“Yeah well,” Chani paused, trying to think of what else to say. “Well, I was the first friend Y/n met here,”

“Hah! Jokes on you! The first friend y/n made here was Hyunsuk-hyung! They met each other before any of us did,” Junkyu said, happy that he was able to beat Chani’s statement.

“Fine. But I’m pretty sure I’m the first person who’s ever fed y/n food among you guys,”

“Oh really? When was that?” Junkyu asked smugly since he knew you’ve only known Chani for over half a month and not as long as you’ve known him or any of his members.

“Duh, it was recent. Sometime in this week,”

“Hah! You’re beat! Hyunsuk-hyung fed y/n food that one time when we came over to her house,” Junkyu was slightly jumping now, excited that he was winning at this argument.

“I—”

“You lost! You have nothing else to say yayyyy,” Junkyu said happily with his cute smile.

Chani lets out a heavy sigh, slightly disappointed by the fact that the Treasure members had already visited your home and yet you’ve never invited him over.

“Yah, y/n. How come they get to visit your home but I never got the chance to go there?” he asked you.

You kept quiet.

Junkyu’s happy expression slowly faded when he noticed how upset you looked.

“Y/n?” Chani said when he realised you’re not responding to him. He lets go of your shoulder that he’d been holding on to since just now and he moved in front of you, wanting to check if you were okay.

Chani froze in his spot when he saw the look you were giving him.

“U-uh, hyung…I think we should leave…” Chani said to Junkyu. He knew that look on your face. Working with you has made him familiarise with the different moods you have, and right now, he knows, if he stayed any longer, he would receive and earful of nagging from you.

“Oh ho don’t you dare move,” you said, making both of them not moving an inch.

“How dare you guys…how dare you both come in here and make a big deal about having breakfast when in reality, we could all have breakfast together,” you continued. “And then you both started off that stupid feud about ‘firsts’ involving me! What am I, an object for you both to banter about??”

“Y/n we don’t mean it that way,” Junkyu said, feeling bad now.

You kept quiet, shooting glares at the both of them.

“Y/n…I just wanted to spend time with you, that’s all…” Chani said in a slow voice.

This earned a scoff from Junkyu. He was annoyed that Chani had the nerve to say that. Chani got to spend his every day with you and yet he wants more? Pathetic.

“What? You have an opinion on that??” Chani asked when he heard Junkyu’s scoff.

You rolled your eyes at this. Looks like this feud isn’t gonna end here.

You grabbed your bag from the table and headed towards the door of your meeting room.

“Wait, y/n, where are you going?” Chani asked, surprised by your action.

“Somewhere I can get some peace and not where my friends are acting weird and arguing about me,” you huffed.

You were standing in front of Junkyu now, since he was standing directly in front of the door.

“Move, Junkyu,”

“But y/n…” Junkyu said softly to you.

You saw the worried look in his eyes and you couldn’t help but feel soft for him.

“Please move, Junkyu,” you said more gently now.

Junkyu looked into your eyes for a moment and then he complied and moved aside, letting you leave the room.

Chani hurriedly walked over towards the door, wanting to follow you, but then he heard you saying from outside,

“I want none of you following me! If I catch a glimpse of you within my eyesight, I’ll really stop talking to any of you,” you said in a warning tone.

This made Chani stop.

Junkyu closed the door of the room, leaving only him and Chani in there.

“This is all your fault! Why can’t you just let y/n go today??” Chani said frustratedly at him.

“Me?? You have her by your side every day! How is this my fault??”

“I only get her to be with me for lunch! Oh come on, you have the upper hand here! You get to visit her freaking home,” Chani added, dissatisfied.

“Upper hand in what?? Hey, you’re the one that keeps on sticking to y/n to the point the only choice I have to even catch a glimpse of her was FROM AFAR,”

“Lol you’re making it seem like as if I’m taking too much of y/n’s time away from you, when in reality you could’ve just, I don’t know, pull her away from me,” Chani responded, a smug tone in his voice.

“H-how?? You’re literally stuck with her! Like earlier, you wouldn’t even let her go! You know what, you’re a leech!” Junkyu argued back. He could hear his own ragged breathing now. Wow, he must be really angry at Chani right now.

“What?” Chani asked back, amused.

“That’s right, you’re a leech! You stick on Y/n, and you wouldn’t come off until someone puts a fire near you,”

“Wow, I really can’t believe you’re comparing me to a leech, hyung.”

“Yup, I watch documentaries too,” Junkyu said proudly.

Chani lets out a small laugh. “Okay hyung, enough, okay? You and I are friends. Why are we arguing about y/n like this? She’s our friend too. Let’s not make things worse, okay?”

Junkyu blinked a couple times. His breathing was calmer now. Chani was right though. Fighting any longer wouldn’t bring you back here.

“So…what do you suggest?” Junkyu asked.

“Hmm,”

Junkyu fixed the paper bag in his hand. The food he bought for the both of you was getting cold and he couldn’t help but pout as he stared at the wrapped-up sandwiches he bought. He had really wanted to give you one of these, he thought. It was one of his favourites and well, he’d like to share the things he like with you. It’s just the things people do when they like someone, no?

“Okay, here’s what we do.” Chani said, earning Junkyu’s attention again. “You…should go back to your studio or practice room or wherever your schedule wants you to be—and I’ll look for y/n,”

Junkyu scoffed out loudly as he listened to this guy’s ridiculous plan. Isn’t it obvious that he’s just trying to stick to you all over again?

“What?? What are you not satisfied about??”

“Why do you have to be the one looking for her? Why can’t it be me??”

“Because, hyung,” Chani smirked. “I’ve changed group leaders. So, technically, as of today y/n is my group leader now.”

“What…”

“Exactly. So what I’m saying is, legally I am allowed to stick to y/n,” a smug smile formed as he said this.

“Huh. I can’t believe we felt sorry for you. You’re just as selfish as he is,”

This statement hits Chani hard. His eyes widened. “You did not just say that, hyung,”

Junkyu walked up closer to Chani, having more courage to face Chani now. He knows how much Chani hates being put in the same place as that person.

“Yah. I won’t let you cling onto y/n like that,” Junkyu said in a soft but menacing tone.

“What’s your deal?! It’s not like you have a crush on y/n like I do,”

Junkyu’s mouth fell open.

Did Chani just confess…about liking you??

Chani too, looked as shocked as Junkyu was. He didn’t expect those words to come out of his mouth.

“W-wait. That doesn’t make any sense. You’ve only met y/n this month. You’ve only known her for several weeks!” Junkyu reasoned, not believing what he heard.

“Look, I feel like it’s nonsense too, believe me! But…I don’t know…I’ve spent my every day with her. And even if it’s just for a couple of weeks…I like being around her. Even when she nags and rolls her eyes at me all the time. I can’t stop thinking about her ever since I met her. Even when I get back home from work, I keep looking forward to meeting her the next day.” Chani looks at Junkyu in the eyes and said, “You know how miserable it was for me, interning here. You know what went down before this, don’t you hyung? Ever since y/n came here, I feel like I’ve gained more courage, I get happier even when I get treated like shit here,”

Junkyu was quiet for a moment. It hurts how he couldn’t get angry at Chani anymore after what he said. Because…he knows how Chani feels.

“I know how you feel…Believe me, I do, Chani.”

Chani lets out a sigh. He watches as Junkyu stares at the paper bag in his hands.

Wait a minute. Could it be?

“Hyung…don’t tell me…”

Junkyu nodded, a solemn smile on his face. He locked eyes with Chani as he opens his mouth to say the one thing he’s never straightforwardly said to anyone—

“Yeah. I like Y/n a lot,”

YG Building (Cafeteria / Balcony)

You woke up to feel the Sun’s rays shining against the clear glass roof, giving you a warm feeling throughout your upper body. Lifting your head from your arms that had supported you throughout your nap out here, you let out a soft sigh, slightly stretching your arms against the table in front of you.

How long have you napped?

Feeling a little panicked inside, you hurriedly grabbed your phone from your bag on the chair located on your right.

10.17am.

You let out another sigh.

“Crazy. I actually napped for almost an hour,”

Placing your phone on the table, you rubbed your tired eyes gently, still trying to fully wake up.

What happened earlier? Why are you out here again? You asked yourself these questions. Ah, right. You had walked out of Junkyu and Chani’s silly argument earlier.

“Those kids. The nerve of them arguing like that. I wasn’t arguing with them and yet I feel so drained. Now look what they’ve done. I don’t even remember falling asleep out here,” you mumbled to yourself.

“Ah, I see the sleeping beauty is awake right now,” a voice said.

You swiftly turned your head to your left to see who it was.

And there he was, Jihoon, grinning at you as he held his phone in one hand—probably scrolling through it before this.

“Whoa. What are you doing here?” you asked, still a little groggy from your nap.

Jihoon pulled out his airpods from his ears and kept them into their case.

Still smiling at you, he finally responded to your question.

“Hm? I was just scrolling through my phone and waiting for a certain princess to wake up from her deep slumber,”

You frowned at him. “How long have you been watching me sleep, huh?”

Jihoon lets out a chuckle, “Oh hey hold your horses, princess. I’m not some creepy stalker, okay? I’ve only been here for like, 10-15 minutes tops,”

“Hmm okay. But why are you here?? Shouldn’t you be running off to practice or working out or something?”

“Why do you think I’m here?” He asked you back, leaning his chin against his hands as he stared at you with his mischievous smile.

“You…wanted to get some fresh air?” you guessed.

“Bingo! You almost got it right!” he grinned at you. “Ah, but I was here for another matter,” he paused, making you wait for his sentence to finish.

“Oh? Aren’t you gonna ask me what the other reason is?” he questioned you.

“Oh my god, Jihoon. Cut the suspense and tell me already!” you groaned.

Jihoon giggled at your impatience and decided to just tell you already why he was there.

“Okay, fine, fine. Well, Junkyu called me up,”

“What? Why??”

“What do you mean, ‘why’?? You stormed away from him and threatened not to talk to him ever again if he looks for you. Why do you think he called me to come here instead of him being here on his own?”

“Oh…”

“Yup,” Jihoon sat up straight now, leaning in close to you. “Now y/n, I don’t know the full details on what went on today but when Junkyu called me, he was a panicked mess. I just hope you know how worried he is about you. I mean, he literally begged me to come over and look for you immediately! I had to rush over here too, okay? Look at me, I even forgot to put on sunscreen because of the rush,” he said as he chuckled.

“Ah but then, after I sent him a picture of you napping, he was calmer so yeah, you don’t have to worry too much,” he continued.

Jihoon leaned back against his chair, smiling at you. “Oh! And I had a hunch you’d be here. Luckily, my hunch was right. I didn’t have to roam around this huge building looking for you,” he added proudly.

You blinked a couple times, trying to discern what Jihoon had told you.

“Hm? You’re a little quiet today. Usually you’re so feisty around me,”

“Oh shut up,” you said as you lightly slapped his shoulder, making him giggle at you.

You pursed your lips together, trying to think of what you want to say to Jihoon.

Junkyu had called him up because he was worried about you.

Junkyu was too afraid to look for you because he didn’t want you to stop talking to him.

Jihoon said Junkyu was a worried mess when he called him up.

All these things swirled up in your head, making it hard for you to focus on Jihoon who was still staring at you, waiting for you to speak up.

“Jihoon…”

“Hm?”

“I…I don’t know what to say. This is a bit too much to handle right now. I…I’m sorry that you had to rush over here…and forgot to put on sunscreen…” your voice trailed as you noticed that even with his bare face, your friend still looked glowing and handsome under the warm Sun rays.

“Nah, it’s no big deal. I’ll put some on later,” he smiled at you. “But really, what happened just now?” he asked, since he didn’t manage to get the full story from Junkyu earlier because his best friend spoke too fast on the phone and kept on begging him to come over to the company to look for you.

And so, you told Jihoon. What went down earlier in your meeting room. Right from the very beginning including the part where Junkyu had texted you the moment you stepped out of your floor’s elevator.

Jihoon listened carefully, nodding at some parts, implying that he understood what you were trying to tell him.

And after your whole story-telling session was done, he kept quiet. He waited for you to calm down before deciding to say anything to you.

You pushed your hair back with one hand, letting out a sigh.

“And so, Jihoon. I had to storm off. I mean, it’s weird enough that these boys are coming to me first thing when I arrive at work—which is a first for me today, and then they start bickering with one another like as if I was some sort of Olympics trophy!”

Jihoon giggled when he hears this. “That’s a little too much, y/n. You’re not an olympic’s trophy. That’s too valuable,”

You scowled at him and punched him in the arm, hard.

“Ow! Okay, okay I was just joking!” he laughed. “You are valuable,”

But then you were already annoyed by what he said so you simply rolled your eyes at him.

“Aw come on. Are you sulking right now?” Jihoon asked, amused with your behaviour.

You shook your head at him but then you weren’t looking at him.

“Aww y/n! Here, here, look! Look at this picture of you that I sent to Junkyu. You looked like an angel sleeping. Of course you’re important and valuable to us all,”

You subtly turned your head to look at his phone that he was holding out to you.

“Wow…the lighting was so good. That picture actually looks good…” you said softly, hardly believing that the soft-looking girl sleeping in the picture was you.

The picture showed an up-close shot of your face, half covered by your arms that you were resting your head on, making the features of your long lashes and your nose and a part of your covered lips accentuated under the sun-kissed rays shining on you.

As you were gaping over the skilled picture Jihoon took of you, Jihoon smiled to himself, feeling proud that he managed to make you stop sulking by now.

“I’m pretty sure Junkyu must be thinking the same thing as you do when he looks at this picture,” he said, making you look at him.

“W-what?”

“It’s a good picture, isn’t it? I’m sure Junkyu’s staring at this picture like a goofy idiot right now,” Jihoon said again, trying to tease you.

“Yah! What are you saying?? Why would Junkyu be staring at my picture, huh??”

“Aww look at you! Your face is turning red,” Jihoon smiled as he kept his phone into his bag.

“W-what? No way! You’re the one that’s turning red!” you blurted out at him.

Jihoon laughed out loud at your reaction. “Oh gosh, y/n. Look at you. Denying how you feel.”

“Look at you. You’re making random conclusions on your own,” you said in an annoyed tone.

Jihoon stretches his hand out to pat you on your head before saying, “Okay, okay. Enough with teasing you. Let’s get back to serious business.”

You looked at him confusedly. “Business?”

“Yeah. What are you going to do about Junkyu and Chani? You know you can’t run away from them and throw threats at them forever, right?”

You groaned. “Aw man, I can’t? Damn it, I was hoping to just avoid them until the end of the month,”

This earned you a soft bonk in the head by Jihoon.

“Silly girl. Of course you can’t.”

“Fine,” you sighed out loud. “I mean, I don’t like it when people fight because of me…” you said as you looked down.

“Neither do I. But you need to understand that they’re fighting over because of one thing, y/n,”

“And what’s that?”

“Duhh, they both want to spend time with you!”

“Then they can! They can just come up to me and spend time with me!”

Jihoon shot you a ‘really, girl??’ look at you.

“What? They could!”

“And they did go to you. See what happened today??”

You let out another exasperated groan, “Ugh okay then what should I do, Jihoon??”

“Come on y/n. You know what to do. You need to decide yourself who you want to spend time with. It’s not only depending on them too, you know. You’re a person too. You get to decide too.”

You kept quiet, eyes staring down at the table again. Jihoon was right. You can’t let your friends fight over you simply because you never openly said to them who you wanted to hang out with truthfully.

Jihoon leaned his chin against his hand again, waiting for whatever you were going to say next.

“Who…do I want to hang with…” you said softly to yourself.

“Be honest with yourself, y/n. If you were to be put into the same situation as this morning all over again, who would you pick to have breakfast with?”

“Well…” you blinked a couple times. A name popped into your head and instantly you felt your heart racing.

“Hm?”

“Well…I g-guess it would be Junkyu…”

“Oh? That’s an interesting take. Why so?”

“I mean…I like hanging out with Chani, I really do. He’s a great friend to spend time with. He gets me so well and oh my god he handles my mood swings so well too! He’s so sweet and caring towards me…” you paused for a bit.

“But then Junkyu…even when he treats me coldly at times or how awkward it feels to be around him sometimes—" you giggled slightly thinking of all your awkward encounters with him. “Around Junkyu I feel different. Whenever he smiles, I feel warm all over. I don’t know, I don’t hang with him much but there’s something about him that makes me feel this comfortable aura around me. It’s like I feel safe whenever I see him. Just seeing him makes me want to smile sillily but ah! I don’t know what I’m saying hahaha let’s not talk about this anymore!” you ended your rant with an apologetic laugh.

You turned to look at Jihoon who had been staring at you the whole time you were talking just now.

His eyes continued to stare at you as if he was in a trance, his eyes gently blinking as you leaned in close to his face to see if he’s okay.

“Hello? Earth to Jihoon,” you said as you waved your hand in front of his face.

“Oh?” Jihoon sat up straight, fixing his posture as soon as he noticed your face was inches away from his.

“Oh my god. I can’t believe you were daydreaming the whole time I was ranting about them,” you said in disbelief.

Jihoon chuckled nervously. “What? No, no no! I was listening, I just…might have gone into another world for a bit,” he joked.

“Whatever Jihoon. It’s fine.”

“So? Have you decided on what to do?”

“I…guess? But let’s hear out what you have in mind since you went to visit another planet while I was talking earlier,” you teased him.

“Pfft. Easy. You just have to talk to them and tell them whatever epiphany you just had earlier,”

You scoffed at him. “I knew it! You weren’t listening at all! Bye, I’m gonna find a new best friend,” you said sarcastically, pretending to grab your bag and leave.

Jihoon grabbed your arms and made you stay in your seat as he cooed, “Aww I’m your best friend? I didn’t know I was that special to you. I thought you hated my guts,” he said in between giggles.

You scowled at him and rolled your eyes. “Enough. Stop teasing me, Jihoon!” you huffed.

YGE Building (4th floor – Y/n’s assigned meeting room)

You walked up towards your meeting room, your high heels clacking in the empty hallways.

Just as soon as you arrived in front of your meeting room’s door, you swiftly turned the doorknob.

And as you stepped into the room, there you saw, Chani sitting in one of the seats, slightly hunched as he focused on the slightly-thick pile of paper in front of him.

You felt your heart soften for your friend. Initially, while you were on your way back to the meeting room, you had been thinking of all the words you wanted to say to him. Yes, you had plan on nagging at him like you usually do. But then when you saw him being all focused and serious doing work…you felt like it wasn’t fair of you to hurt his feelings at all.

You let out a sigh as you closed the door behind you.

Your sigh caught Chani’s attention, making him lift his head to look at you.

“Y/n,” he said, a slightly surprised look on his face.

You smiled a little at him and then walked up towards your usual seat which was facing the mirrors. Placing your bag onto the table, you let yourself plop down into your chair, a few seats away from your friend.

Chani placed the pen he was holding onto the table and scoots over towards you.

“Hey, are you okay? Where have you been? I’m so sorry—”

You raised your hand, making him stop talking.

“Look, Chani…” you paused. You took a deep breath before turning to him. His eyes scanned yours, a hint of worry showing on his face as he wondered what you were going to say to him.

“I…I’m sorry for storming off like that this morning. I didn’t mean to get mad at you both like that, really,” you said.

Chani lets out a sigh of relief. Relieved that this wasn’t another one of your angry nagging sessions.

“No, no! If it’s someone that’s going to say sorry among us, it’s me. Really, y/n. When you stormed off like that, it got me thinking…I just—I can’t imagine not talking to you at all,”

Chani’s eyes stared into yours, making you feel bad for always being cold to him or not treating him as well as you treat your other friends.

You also realised this as you stared into his eyes—that Chani has big, beautiful dreamy eyes. How did you not notice that before?

You shook your head and lowered your eyes, breaking his gaze on you. “Don’t stare at me like that. What, are you trying to hypnotise me or something?” you said in a monotonous tone.

Chani grinned, happy to see you being your usual self—that’s always indifferent around him.

“Hey, we still can have that McDonald’s for lunch. Sure, it’s a little cold now but if you don’t mind it—”

“Sure. Sounds good,” you smiled a little at him.

“Aigoo! You’re so cute when you’re being so nice to me,” Chani said as he grinned happily.

“Oh my god, get a hold of yourself. I’m still a little mad at you, okay?” you said as you rolled your eyes lightly at him.

“Aww! There’s that eyeroll! I’m so glad you’re still here with me!” he said as he pulled you into a hug.

“Nooooo no no no, I refuse to get your dose of sappiness today, Chani. Now, let go of me,”

Chani continued wrapping his arms around you, making you feel trapped in your seat. “No way, you don’t know how happy I feel right now,” he said, with his eyes closed and smile beaming as he leaned his head against yours.

“Okay, okay! Personal space invasion!” You said as you gently pushed his arms away from you.

Chani pulled away from you, “Sorry. I’m just really happy,”

You shot him a weird look. “Obviously. Ah, but what happened to Junkyu and you when I left this morning? Don’t tell me you both continued fighting,” you said, giving him a warned look.

“Well, we debated for a bit…”

You raised an eyebrow at him.

“But we’re fine now! We cleared out some…understandings about each other…”

“Huh…”

Chani flashed you a convincing smile, not wanting to expose the full conversation he had with Junkyu earlier. The last thing he wanted to do was tell you how Junkyu had caught feelings for you. I mean, why would he? After all, he likes you just as much too.

“Well, that sounds good then. I’ll just send him a text later to check up on him.”

Chani nods at you.

“Oh and Chani?”

“Hm?”

“If you act mean towards Junkyu like today again next time, I’ll stop talking to you for real, okay?” you said nonchalantly, your eyes scanning the paper on the table.

This made Chani stop smiling. “What? Why?”

You flipped the paper, revealing another page. You took a deep breath before you turned to look at him.

“Because— Junkyu is a nice person. And I…like…being around him too.”

Chani fell quiet.

Suddenly he lets out a soft laugh.

“What’s so funny…” you asked, confused.

“Nothing,” he said still laughing. “I mean, why are you making it sound like as if I’m the one that’s holding you back from spending time with him?”

You folded your arms against your chest, shooting him a questioning look.

Chani’s laugh eased a little, his smile still visible on his face though. “Oh come on, Y/n. Of course I’ll treat Junkyu-hyung nicely. I like him too! He’s a nice hyung,”

“Okay good,” you smiled a little.

“Also—” Chani added.

“Hm? What is it?”

Chani uses his fingers to pull you by your chin, making you face him closely. “This isn’t the way I plan to say this y/n, but since you worry about Junkyu-hyung more than you worry about me…”

“What? No, what are you saying? I don’t worry about Junk—”

“I like you, y/n” Chani said quickly, cutting your sentence before you could finish it.

“W-what?”

“Listen to me carefully,” he said slowly, his dreamy eyes still staring into yours, his face inches away from yours as well. “I like you.”

You felt your ears heating up in all of a sudden. What nonsense is this kid rambling?? Is he even in his right mind??

You couldn’t tell if Chani was being serious or if he was pulling a prank on you…

To be continued…

#treasure #treasure fanfic #TREASURE IMAGINE #ygtreasure #treasurefic #treasuremembers #alltreasuremembers #kim junkyu #kimjunkyu #kim junkyu x reader #kimjunkyu x reader #JunKyu #junkyu x reader #junkyu scenarios #ALIY #sandwichrin

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marmosa · 4 years ago

Note

hello 💕 i've just gone through your entire fred weasley and i absolutely love your writing and especially your dialogues, they feel v authentic and real xx i read that you have requests open so i'll leave you with an idea from my v detailed v self indulgent daydream cinematic universe starring fred weasley— post war (say a couple of years after) fred is the owner and manager of the hogsmead branch of the joke shop and sneaks into hogwarts to meet his fiancé, newly hired transfiguration (1/2)

thank you so much for the kind words and reading all my writing, i can’t begin to describe how much that means to me! i love the idea of fred sneaking into the castle to see his significant other, it’s so cute, i had to run a lap around my room just thinking about it. also in this house fred weasley never d worded, if you think he did, no he didn’t. also also, it got kinda sad at the end and i’m sorry, i didn’t mean for that to happen i- but anyways, hope you like it and thank you again for the compliment <3

word count: 1.6k

***

“Hey!”

Tink!

“Hey!”

Tink!

[y/n] looked up from the stack of papers arrayed on her desk and glanced around her study for the source of the noise, absolutely bewildered at who would possibly be bothering her at this hour. She prayed it wasn’t a student messing around with her, for she may have been a relatively new teacher but she wasn’t afraid to stand her ground against misbehaving kids.

The sound came again and this time she saw who it was her face lighting up before falling down as she scurried over to the window, unlatching the glass and pushing it open to find her fiancé sitting all high and mighty on his broom like this was a normal everyday occurrence.

“Fred Weasley! What in God’s name are you doing outside of my window? Why are you throwing stones at glass? Do you have any idea how high up I am?” She hissed, reaching for him, despite knowing full well he could only enter the room on his own accord.

He flew closer to the window and balanced himself on the ledge before grabbing her hand and hopping down onto the floor a giddy smile plastered on his lips, “I’m aware how high up this is, lest you forget I was one of the best Gryffindor beaters this school has ever seen.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. You do realize you could just come in through the front doors right? McGonagall isn’t going to smite you down for visiting your fiancée,” she deadpanned, latching the window back shut.

“Whatever? If I recall correctly, me being on the quidditch team all those years back had you absolutely smitten, or am I wrong,” he retorted smugly, completely brushing past her statement about walking through the front doors.

[y/n]’s face fell into one of embarrassment as she pushed past him back to her desk, not wanting to fuel his ego any more than she usually did, “Even so, you still can’t be sneaking onto campus. Especially during school hours, you know how it is, I would rather you be turned away at the door than get escorted out by the collar of your robes.”

“But it’s always school hours! Honestly [y/l/n], your new position has really given you a stick up the arse,” He grumbled, leaning back against one of the desks across from hers.

“[y/l/n]?” She repeated, offense written all over her face. Despite not taking it to heart she decided to mess with him a bit for being so stubborn.

Fred’s face fell and he was quick to rush over and apologize, “You know that’s not what I meant! Technically you’re not a Weasley anyway until the paperwork is done legally, so I’m not wrong.”

“I’m telling Molly you said that and she’s going to ground you just like she did 6th year when you got caught nicking something from Filche’s office,” [y/n] pouted, sinking into her chair and crossing her arms.

“You’re terrible you know that,” Fred deadpanned grabbing her cheeks in his hands, “don’t you say a word to my mother or she’ll make me bake you a cake or something.”

“I would quite like that actually, maybe I will tell her,” she replied, biting back a smile.

“Oh, come on! You know George was the one who got all the baking skills! That’s why he’s in charge of all the candy at our shops!” Fred whined, squeezing her face together slightly to try and return the teasing.

“Even if it turned out burnt and gross, I’d still like it because you made it,” she stated plainly, leaning up to try and snatch a kiss.

“Rubbish,” He replied, indulging her and accepting the kiss, smiling down at her when she beamed up at him.

“Whatever you say Freddie, y’know-,”

“Mrs. Weasley? Are you here? I had a question for you.”

All the color drained out of Fred’s face as he recognized McGonagall’s voice from across the room, [y/n]’s features mirroring the same horror as she pushed him off her and shoved him under her desk so he was as out of sight as she could make him.

“Yes- yes! I’m here Minerva, how can I help you?” [y/n] stuttered out, sliding her chair in as far as she could without injuring her soon to be husband.

“Well, I wanted to ask how the preparations were coming along for the annual Christmas Ball? I know you’ve been kept busy with recent exams, but the plans are top priority if we want to keep the spectacular turn out of our ball the same,” McGonagall explained walking up to her desk.

“Oh! The plans are coming along just fine, I haven’t quite finished drafting them up yet, but as soon as I do I’ll have them brought to you right away for approval,” [y/n] assured her, trying her best not to let on how nervous she now was, trying not to get Fred caught.

“Spectacular! And I expect to see you down in the Hall later? Professors have to arrive early today for some announcement preparation,” McGonagall continued, thankfully still unaware of the hidden person in the room.

“Of course, thank you for letting me know ahead of time,” [y/n] nodded, pretending to assort some papers on her desk.

“Lovely,” McGonagall smiled, heading out of the room, but stopping before she exited the room, “Oh, and tell Mr. Weasley that I say hello, he’s been rather quiet about his surprise appearances to our school recently.”

“Will do!” [y/n] called after her, releasing a breath she didn’t even know she was holding in as soon as the door shut.

“Okay, how come you get to call her Minerva?” Fred complained, crawling out from under the desk, no visible panic at McGonagall’s leaving statement.

“All professors do. Besides, you’re a trouble-maker in her eyes, a darling, but a trouble-maker, she wouldn’t dream of giving you that kind of power,” [y/n] giggled, reaching up to rearrange his ruffled hair, as he’d decided to grow it out again once he’d graduated.

“Trouble-maker,” Fred muttered, rolling his eyes, “Well she’ll be seeing a lot more of me whether she likes it or not, so I’ll win that privilege, eventually.”

“Whatever you say darling,” she hummed, scooting back in to continue grading her papers.

“You’re ignoring me already?” he groaned, letting his chin rest on the top of her head, arms slinging over her shoulders.

“I’ve got work to do Fred, I’m a professor now. I’m surprised you even had time to visit me, you’re a business owner now after all, it always amazes me how you have the time for these spontaneous visits- not that I don’t appreciate them,” she assured him, setting down her pen and squeezing his hands.

“I own the business, so I get to make my hours, unlike you,” he replied, moving his head so he was peeking over her shoulder.

“Is that supposed to be bad?” she quipped, leaning her head against his shoulder so she could kind of see him.

“Bad for me! I miss you! You’re here far too much,” Fred mumbled, intertwining their fingers.

“Well winter vacation is coming up soon, so you’ll be seeing much more of me. Hopefully you don’t get too sick of me,” she giggled, pursing her lips when he passed her a suggestive grin, “Ah, don’t look at me like that, that is not what I meant.”

“But it is and you know it darling,” Fred hummed, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Don’t get too cocky or I’ll come up with extra work to keep me here,” she warned, a teasing lilt to her threat.

“You wouldn’t. Besides even if you did, I’d kidnap you against your will. Also you wouldn’t hurt Molly like that, she always expects you for family festivities,” he replied simply, knowing she would never pass up an opportunity to spend time with him.

“You’ve got me there. You know me so well,” she sighed, reaching back so she could toy with the hair at the nap of his neck.

“I’d hope I know you well, you’re about to be my wife,” he chuckled, shutting his eyes at the sensation of her soft fingers against his skin.

“Touché, love, touché,” she hummed in agreement, her free hand twisting the engagement ring situated on his finger.

“Anyways, I should probably leave you to it, with your boring paperwork and grading and all,” he sighed, standing tall, her hands sliding away from him and into her lap.

“It’s not boring,” she frowned, crossing her arms across her chest defensively, trying not to cave but ultimately failing when he gave her a raised brow, “okay, maybe it’s a little boring.”

“I knew it. No worries darling, I know you love it here, I’m only teasing. See you soon though?” He mused, brushing a stray hair out of her face.

“See you soon,” she replied, grabbing his face and pulling him down for a sweet kiss, relishing in one another’s company for their limited time together.

“Farewell my love,” he announced, grabbing his broom and pushing himself onto the window sill, “see you around.”

“Fred wait!”

He laxed the position of his broom and turned around, an adoring smile stretching onto his lips as she pulled him for one last sweet kiss, placing a small object in his hand.

“What’s this?” he asked as she peppered a few last kisses around his face, trying not to let her emotions get the best of her.

“It’s the locket you gave me, I finally put a picture in it, thought it was time to return it to you,” she smiled, stroking his cheek lovingly.

“You’re astounding,” he muttered, tucking the charm in his pocket, “I love you.”

“I love you too, bye Freddie,” she waved as he kissed her softly once more and took off into the setting sun, “see you soon.”

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x [y/n]#[y/n]#mar writes #hogwarts #harry potter #asks

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unmaskedagain · 5 years ago

Text

Agent Marinette

Okay I have struggled all week with a massive case of Writers block and today I beat it. This a crossover fic. Guess it by the end.

In retrospect, Marinette should’ve realized eventually other forces outside of Paris would take an interest in the masked heroine. At least they had been polite enough to wait until AFTER Hawkmoth was defeated.

Marinette was eleven when she became the hero Ladybug. And her world shattered a bit.

Marinette was fourteen when Hawkmoth was finally defeated.

Marinette was fourteen when Ladybug retired. And her world shattered again, this time a bit more.

It had taken nearly every miraculous they had to take the villain down but eventually, Gabriel Agreste was taken down, his memories of the miraculous erased. (Nathalie with him) His son Adrien Agreste surrendered his own miraculous, his position as Chat Noir, and his own memories of being a hero and everything he’d ever learned of magic and Kwami. All to prevent his father from ever learning of them again.

However, erasing his memories of his life as Chat Noir, unavoidably included erasing his memories of his friendship Ladybug, with Marinette. A friendship that had grown stronger, in and outside the mask, over fighting the evil that haunted Paris back together. Keyword: together.

On the same day, Ladybug had lost her best friend, Marinette did too. Both lost the boy she thought she’d marry one day. They could never be together. She’d have to lie to him for the rest of their lives. Marinette would never be able to do that. And she wouldn’t let Adrien’s sacrifice be in vain.

So she distanced herself from him. She couldn’t look at him without seeing Chat Noir. She couldn’t look at him, knowing she knew just about everything about him but he knew nothing about her. To him, Marinette was just some girl in his class; a sort of friend he was never really that close to.

Strangers, really.

It was why Marinette transferred out of Bustier’s class. The best thing for her heart was to stay away.

Still, she thought in a way, it was a happy ending. The best happy ending she could get. Hawkmoth was gone. Paris was safe. Ladybug was retired. Fu had reclaimed all Kwami and had disappeared. The world was good.

Until it wasn’t. Until one rainy Thursday. Her parents had gone out for a date night. They never made it home. There had been an accident. The other driver had been drunk. The funeral was on a Tuesday.

Marinette’s world had shattered once again, more than ever before.

Marinette was an orphan.

Her grandmother Gina sold the bakery, put the money from the sale and the life insurance into an account for Marinette, and moved Marinette into a nearby apartment, and then was gone. Legally, the older woman was Marinette’s guardian. But otherwise, Marinette was on her own. It was fine. Her dad had always warned her that his mom was a free spirit who never liked to be tied down.

She would talk with her grandmother once every other month if she was lucky. They primarily only communicated through email. The reception was spotted in the parts of the world Gina like to frequent.

At only fourteen, Marinette got used to paying bills, buying groceries, and virtually being an adult. She got used to living alone. Just like she got used to not being a hero anymore. Just like she got used to not having any friends after Lila came knocking on the class’s door.

A year later, the young girl was thriving. Her grades were at the top of the school, right after Max. She was class treasurer and on the track team, having missed the feeling of running as fast she could. She started Kuoshu classes; her mother had always wanted her to learn Chinse martial arts for defense. And Marinette missed the adrenaline she used to get after a fight.

It was a good life. A simple life. Marinette had only normal life worries to be concerned about.

…Again, she really should’ve known the other shoe would drop eventually.

Still, no fifteen-year-old girl who was minding her own business, casually walking down the street, wanted to suddenly have a black bag over her and tossed into the back of a van. In fact, it was every girl, woman, and human being’s worst nightmare.

She was tied up. She was gagged. She couldn’t see. She couldn’t hear. Marinette had no idea how much time had passed. Or where they were taking her. Or who had taken her? She fought the tears that burned in her eyes as she struggled with the bonds around her hands. No matter how hard she tried, they wouldn’t break or budge. By the coldness of it, she knew she was either in handcuff or something similar made of metal.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Marinette felt herself be picked up and carried. She struggled against her assailant. She tried to kick her with her bound legs, hit with her tied fists. Nothing.

Marinette found herself being lower onto something. A chair she quickly realizes as she pressed her back to it.

Suddenly, the metal band around her hands released. Marinette quickly pulled the black bag off her head, undid the tap around her mouth, and took the plugs out of her ears.

She was in a mostly black room that only lights overhead, a vent the size of a phone, the table she sat at, and a large mirror across from her. Marinette figured it was a two-way mirror-like on cop shows, and that she was being watched. However, what concerned her most was that there was no sign of any door. Just walls and that mirror.

There was no escape.

Marinette glared at the mirror, at whoever was behind it.

She didn’t know how long she waited as she plotted her escape. Considering all variables for when they came back to her. Would they have guns? How many people would there be? Could she fight her way out? And just who her kidnappers could be? Child traffickers? Serial killer? Her past enemy, Hawkmoth, comes back for revenge? Who?

When a portion of the wall, next to the mirror opened, Marinette tried not to flinch back in surprise.

In walked a man at least twice her age. He wore a black suit and tie with a serious expression on his face. He was handsome with short dark hair and dark eyes and cheekbones that could cut glass.

The door closed behind him once he stepped through. He said nothing as he sat down in the chair across from her. They started at each other silently.

Marinette cracked first, “Who are you? What do you want? Where am I?”

A small smile appeared on the man’s face, “You’re a very hard girl to track down, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I’d have thought it would’ve been easier considering all you’ve done.” He had an American accent.

“Track? What?” Why would he want to track her down? “I didn’t do anything. Nothing! Okay?!”

He gave her a curious look, “Really? Well, I wouldn’t call saving all of Paris on a nearly everyday basis for what two years, nothing.” He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “Don’t try to deny it. We have pictures, videos; evidence.”

It was like someone had thrown ice water over her head. Marinette swallowed the lump that had built in her throat. “Who. Are. You.” She managed to get out.

“Me? I’m a friend,” He answered. “You can call me Black Heart.”

“Black Heart?” Marinette snorted. “You’re serious?”

“Oh because Ladybug is so much better,” He rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t matter. I have questions. You’re going to answer them.”

He wanted to know about the miraculous, she guessed. Or how she got her powers. Marinette crossed her arms, “I have nothing to say.”

Black Heart chuckled and stood up. He put his hands on the table, “Listen very carefully, Marinette. Because there are only two ways we can do this.”

Marinette smirked, “Is one of them the easy way?”

A look she couldn’t recognize briefly flashed over Black Heart’s face but gone just as quick. “No,” He answered.

“Oh.”

“Who are you?” He asked her.

She paused before answering, “…My name is Marinette but you know that. I was the hero Ladybug but you know that as well.”

“What happened to HawkMoth?”

She felt fine answering that. However, she gave the same answer she gave to the press, “Hawkmoth was defeated. He was stripped of his powers and destroyed.”

“You killed him?”

It wasn’t the first time Ladybug had been asked that question. “…Yes.” She lied though it didn’t feel like much of one. Hawkmoth was dead after all.

Blackheart nodded. “What happened to Chat Noir? And the other heroes? Dead too?”

Marinette fought to keep her face blank, her fists clenched. “Yes,” She said. “They were causalities of the final fight with Hawkmoth.” Technically not a lie. Every Parisian hero had given up their miraculous once and for all after Hawkmoth was gone. There was no need for them anymore.

The man raised an eyebrow, “Gabriel Agreste is still very much alive last I checked.” She reared back as if slapped. “So is Adrien is otherwise known as Chat Noir. Alya Cesaire aka Rena Rouge, her turtle boyfriend. The monkey guy. The tiger. The snake; Luka, I believe. All alive and kicking. So much for that lie…”

“They were retired,” Marinette growled. “Permanently.”

“Truth,” Blackheart nodded. “How did you erase their memories?”

It had taken the combined power of Fu, Marinette, Tikki, Wayzz, and Plagg to do it. “I didn’t do anything.”

Black Heart gave her a hard look, “Where do your powers come from?”

Marinette smiled, “I don’t have any powers.”

“Fine! Where do Ladybug’s powers come from?”

“I am Ladybug,” She told him. “And Ladybug doesn’t have any powers.”

“You mean anymore?”

Marinette nodded slowly.

Black Heart sat back in his chair, “You’re telling me that you busted your ass saving Paris for two years, only to have your powers taken from you? You were tossed to the side just like that? Like you were nothing? I’m supposed to believe that.”

“I wasn’t needed anymore.” By anyone.

“You took down one of the biggest threats to this world,” The man said. “You fought. You bled. You sacrificed everything. From what our intelligence has gathered, you even gave up the love of your young life. Only to be cast aside; alone, forgotten, abandoned…”

“That’s not what happened,” Marinette shook her head.”

“You weren’t useful anymore,” Blackheart tutted. “So you were thrown away; left to fend for yourself in a cold, cruel world. No friends, no family,”

“Shut up,” Marinette whispered.

The man leaned forward, “How many internships did you turn down because you were too busy being a hero? Two? Three?”

“Shut up!” She said louder.

“Wait, it was five. That’s right.” He continued on as if she said nothing. “Five internships with some of the biggest names in fashion today. And you gave it up. Now what you have to show for it? Nothing!” He said. “You live this mundane life halfheartedly, struggling to find your place again, trying to get back even a fraction of the feeling you had when you fighting for this world!”

“SHUT UP!” Marinette roared.

Black Heart shook his head, “I asked you who you are. But I already know who you are. I know who you were. You were a hero, a martyr, a leader, a little princess who believed in fairytales and the goodness of people. You were someone who believed this world could still be saved! So I just want to know three things. I have three questions to ask you and then you never have to see me again! You can go back to pretending to be whatever the hell you want. I don’t care.”

“What?” Marinette asked. “What could you possibly want to know?” Need to know that he didn’t already. “Huh? Just tell me!”

“Do you still believe this world can be saved?”

Silence.

“…What?”

“Answer the question.”

Marinette blinked, “Yes. I do.”

“Are you still willing to fight for it?” Black Heart asked.

“Always.”

He smiled, and leaned back in his chair, “Last question… What do you know about Shield?”

Well, that was a twist. Marinette’s eyes went wide. She knew a lot about shield. More than any normal teenage girl should. But a former Ladybug had been an Agent. And Tikki told her everything... It was founded by Peggy Carter and Howard Stark. Shield started the Avengers. They had been protecting the world for decades.

“A lot,” Marinette answered. “What do you want?

The man gave her a small smile, “World peace.”

The doors of the room opened again in walked a beautiful young woman with long hair a bright smile on her face, “You done traumatizing the poor girl yet.”

The man groaned, “Dammit, Skye.”

Marinette officially joined Shield the next day.

Skye showed her the ropes and explained until she garnered some trust, most would give her their full name; maybe only even their code name.

In another life, Skye hadn’t joined Shield until she was well into her twenties. In this life, she was recruited by a woman named Hill as soon as she graduated high school. It had been nearly ten years since. Skye had met Black Heart when she was about three years in, and they had disliked each other.

Now they mostly tolerated the others’ existence. Only really dealing with each other on missions.

Skye would be gone the next day. And Marinette would only see her once in a blue moon.

Marinette would withdraw from school and finish her education taught by some of the greatest minds in the world. She would give up her apartment, and leave Paris. She would call her grandmother one last time for what would be months to let her know she was going to travel the world; her grandmother was pleased as she had done the same when she was not much older than Marinette. Gina disregarded the fact that she had been a legal adult at the time.

It would be the last call she made from her phone. The line was disconnected and the phone tossed.

Then she visited the place that had been her parents’ bakery, not their graves; because she would rather remember them alive, happy, and loving, then dead in the ground. And she told them goodbye.

Before leaving Paris for good, she dropped off a perfectly wrapped green and black present off at the Agreste home. Adrien’s birthday was coming up. Inside the gift box was a black leather jacket with cat-shaped buttons. She handed the gift to Nathalie.

This time, however, Marinette was quick to tell the older woman that MDC was sewn inside on the jacket; multiple times.

Then she walked away; not looking back once.

It was the last thing Adrien would ever get from her. The last thing he would unknowingly have of Chat Noir. Ironically, the masked hero the blond had come to idolize in recent times.

The jacket was all she could give him of his as a hero, and not even a fraction of all she had wished to give him.

One day he would forget her altogether. One day she would just be a random former classmate of his whose name he couldn’t quite remember.

However, Marinette would never forget Adrien Agreste and Chat Noir. She would remember when Adrien was Chat Noir, one of the greatest heroes Paris would ever know. And she would remember Chat Noir was Adrien, and Adrien proved to be a greater hero than even he ever dared dream Chat Noir would be.

Marinette would remember because she owed him that much at least.

The night she left Paris would be the last time she dreamed of a life with Adrien. A life where they got to grow old together; one where wedding bells were heard. And he’d kiss her every time she left. And she’d kiss him every time she came back. A life where they got to see where their love would take them, and maybe one day hear the pitter-patter of little feet on their floor.

A life where Marinette did actually become a fashion designer. A life where she married Adrien, Alya was still her best friend, her parents were alive, the world was good and kind, and two heroes got the finale they deserved.

A life where love was enough, and they got their happy ending. The forever they never got would haunt her forever.

Marinette was fifteen when she went she joined shield and went back to doing what she did best; helping people, saving the world.

Marinette was fifteen when she became an Agent of Shield.

Marinette was fifteen when she learned how to shoot a gun.

Marinette was fifteen when she joined Black Hear became her mentor. The training had been a killer. More than once, Marinette had nearly quit.

Blackheart would just shake his head at her and say, “Life is tough, kid,” He’d give her an easy smile. “But so are you.”

Marinette smiled.

“You and me?” Grant said. “We’re the same. We’re Kevlar. We do whatever it takes to complete the mission. We get the job done. Keep our feelings and emotions; personal wants and desires in check. For the greater good. Its who we are. Whatever it takes.”

“Whatever it takes,” Marinette repeated back. “But that doesn’t mean we have to shut people out; each other out.”

“Yes, it does,” Grant said firmly. “Yes, I do.” He stopped talking and look Marinette in the eyes, “There are things about me you don’t know. I’ve done things I… Thing you wouldn’t like if you knew.”

“We all have,” Marinette shrugged at her father figure. “It’s a part of the job. I get it.”

Grant smiled at her, “I know you do. I know you would. We’re the same. We know this world isn’t all happiness and rainbows but we don’t stop trying to save it. We don’t stop believing it can be saved; that what we’re doing has a purpose. But there are things I can’t tell you. Things about me… that you wouldn’t like if you knew. One day, I hope you understand though. I know we will. We’re the same. But You’re good.”

“So are you,” Marinette said. “Grant, you’re like the best guy I know. You’re good.”

“Not always,” Grant looked away. “You need to know, Marinette, I’m not a good man.”

“I believe you are.” She stated, “You can’t convince me otherwise.”

It would a year later after much trust was built, and they had gone of dozens and dozens of missions that she finally learned his real name.

Grant.

Over the next few years, Grant became like a father to her. And to him, she was like a daughter. He taught her everything he knew. Marinette did everything she could to make him proud. He made her believe that they could really save the world, change the world for the better.

Where Grant went, she followed; most of the time. Sky would slowly start to show up more and more; until it was clear she wasn’t going anyway.

Whenever she was hurt, and the mission was over, Grant would tell a story about his past.

Her favorites were the ones about a monster who loved the sky. It was clear that it was about him and Skye. “Do you want to hear a story, princess?” He smiled. “It’s about a man who struggled with his demons his entire life. Who asked for love throughout his entire life. But he never got it. Until she came. She made him feel important. She made him laugh. She made him better. She became his world.”

Marinette couldn’t understand what was stopping the two from getting together.

She met Nick Fury when she was seventeen and was sent on the first on her first solo mission.

When she was eighteen, Grant and Skye were approached by a man named Coulson. The same Coulson that had supposedly been killed by a god named Loki. The strangest part was Marinette was tapped to join too.

The team consisted of Coulson, May, Grant, Skye, Fitz, Simmons, and Marinette.

They were a team. They became a family.

However, then John Garrett was revealed to be Hydra; a man Marinette had thought she knew well. (Grant killed him. And she mourned with him the man they thought John was.)

Then project insight happened. Nick Fury was killed. Captain America exposed all of Shield in an effort to reveal Hydra.

Shield was labeled a terrorist organization.

The team was on their own.

But, Marinette thought more than once over the next coming months, at least they had each other.

They ended up at a place called Providence. They were given lie detector tests by Agent Eric Koenig. “Fury designed this himself,” The portly man said. “He wanted a lie detector Romanoff couldn’t beat.”

“Did she?” Grant asked

“Like Fury would tell!”

Marinette sat in the machine and tried to relax.

“We’re going to start with some easy question,” Eric told her. “Can I have your full name?”

“Marinette Clarissa Dupain-Cheng.”

“Eye color?”

“Blue,” Marinette stated.

The agent nodded, “Have you ever been married?”

Marinette shook her head, “No.”

“Please list your immediate living family.”

“My grandmother Gina,” Marinette answered. “My grandfather. I considered my team my family though.”

“What’s the difference between an egg and a rock?”

Marinette gave him an “Are you Serious” look, “One's food, ones a weapon.”

“Have you ever heard of project insight?”

“Never.”

“Have you ever had contact with Alexander Pierce.”

“I have,” She answered honestly. “Once. Just after the New York Invasion. Agent Hill introduced me.”

“You wash up on a desert island, alone. Sitting in the sand is a box. What’s in the box?”

“How big is the box?” Marinette asked curiously. “How did it get there? What island am I on? Am I near freshwater.”

“Just say the first thing that comes to your mind, Marinette,” He told her. “What’s in the box?”

“A pair of earrings.”

Eric gives her a funny look but notes her age and shrugs it off. Spy teen girls were still teen girls, after all. “Shield no longer exists. The agency has been labeled a terrorist organization. So why are YOU here.”

Marinette thought about the question. She had thought about it before. Shield had fallen. No one knew who was or wasn’t Hydra. She should’ve been gone in the wind. However, she had never even considered it. “Shield is all I have. Ward, Skye, Coulson, May, Simmons, Fitz, Trip; they’re all I have. They’re my family.” She told him. “And truthfully, I joined Shield because I believe this world is worth saving. I believe it can still be saved. I believe that it is good in this world, and it’s worth fighting for.”

“I love Lord of the Rings,” Agent Eric Koenig grinned. “Let’s get you a Lanyard, Agent Dupain-Cheng.

While Skye, May, and Grant stayed at Providence, Marinette joined Coulson and the others.

When Marinette returned to the base after saving the Cellist lady. The bus was gone. May was gone. Grant and Skye were gone.

What was left of the team had debated long about what had happened; why the three had left.

When Coulson said, “Worst case… We've had a wolf in the herd the whole time.”

Marinette didn’t believe that at first. Not until she heard the scream. Saw Agent Eric Koenig’s body. Saw the word written on the picture.

Ward is Hydra.

“Not Ward,” Fitz said.

“Not Ward,” Marinette repeated. “Not Ward.” Skye was wrong. She had to be wrong. Ward couldn’t be Hydra. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

Then Simmons gave the analyze of Agent Eric Koenig’s murder.

“Ward did this,” Simmons said.

In a fury, Fitz smashed a few things.

Marinette could only stare in space as the words penetrated her mind.

Ward is Hydra.

The man she thought she knew the best.

The man she had sworn her loyalty to, had given all her trust to, had loved like a father.

The man who had gotten her to swear loyalty to Shield.

Grant Ward had been her S.O. Her mentor. Her leader. Her captain.

Grant Ward was Hydra.

And just like that, Marinette’s world shattered again.

And just like that, everything she ever thought she believed in was questioned.

It would be months before she saw him again, and by then it had been confirmed without a doubt Grant Ward was Hydra. He was the enemy.

He would try to kill the team multiple times. Grant Ward would do everything he could to get her alone to speak with and or to Skye. Like he could change their minds. He had gone full psycho Hydra and didn’t seem to be stopping any time soon.

Marinette was captured by Hydra not long before her twenty-first birthday.

She was tied up and chained to a desk.

Grant Ward walked in with an easy smile on his face, “Marinette. This brings back memories.”

“Old Blackheart himself,” The bluenette hissed back. “Good to see you again. Oh, Wait! As your lot puts; Hail Hydra, right?”

He nodded and sat down across from her, “Ladybug.”

“Just kill me,” Marinette shrugged. “I won’t tell you anything. You know I won’t. I won’t Hydra. You and the rest of the freaking Nazi can go to hell.”

Ward looked shocked, “Kill you? You really think I would… I would never hurt you, Marinette!” He told her. “You have to know that. I would never want to hurt you.”

“Maybe not want to,” Marinette looked him dead in the eye. “But you will. All apart of the job, right.”

“Do you think this was easy for me?” Grant asked. “You of all people understand how hard it was; the impossible decisions that had to be made. You know what it's like to make a choice that breaks you inside. But we make them anyway. I made them anyway. Because that’s what I do. What we do.”

Marinette shuddered. “A Double Agent. Do what needs to be done. Betray everyone who loves you, cares about you. Because we don’t matter, only the mission does. Right? That’s what you tried to train into me; anything for the mission.”

“No!” Ward shouted. “That’s who you were before I ever met you. You don’t get to put that on me. That’s why Shield wanted you. Because you did whatever it took to stop Hawkmoth for good. Whatever it took for the greater good. That’s how I knew we were the same.”

Silence.

Ward stood up, “You’re good. I get that. I’ve always known that. But you understand me. You’re a soldier. I’m a soldier.”

“You are a monster,” Marinette said. “You finally convinced. There is no good for you.”

Coulson, May, Lincoln, and Skye rescued her not long after.

Grant and Marinette would face off with each other multiple; fighting to the death; fighting for the cause.

Then one day, Simmons would be gone, Coulson would go after her, and when they came back; Coulson would tell her Grant Ward was dead. He killed him.

Marinette wouldn’t ever admit it but her world shattered just a bit.

However, Marinette would see Grant again but he wasn’t Grant. He was hive. And Hive would nearly take Skye from the team. He would take Lincoln.

After months of fighting the monster for months; doing whatever it took to bring him down; Lincoln, a pretty blond man with light-colored eyes who dared to be a hero, sacrificed himself.

And for the first time in years, Marinette was reminded of Adrien Agreste. She had thought about him occasionally, sure. But seeing Skye cry over Lincoln had reminded her just deeply of her own loss. And remember that she was the one who erased his memories. He wanted the last thing he saw to be her before he never remembered her again.

Marinette was twenty-two when she went to the funeral of Grant Ward. It was in Paris. Marinette was the only one who went. There was nobody to bury but still, Marinette had him laid to rest, not too far away from her parents.

No matter how hard she had tried, Marinette couldn’t find it in her to hate Grant. She had loved him too much. He had been such a big part of who she was.

And she owed it to him to finally see him laid to rest. It was her duty, she supposed.

That was why she buried him in the once place she once thought she’d never return. The place where she once dreamed of another life.

As she stared at his grave, once again she dreamed about another life.

A life where Hydra had never returned. Shield had never fallen. The Avengers weren’t torn apart in a civil war. The world didn’t seem to always be on fire. Skye was still an Agent. Fitz and Simmons were married. Tripp was alive. Lincoln was alive. And Grant Ward was good.

It was a nice dream but she’d leave it in Paris with all rest of her childhood’s hopes, wishes, and dreams.

“You were right,” She told Grant, speaking directly to his headstone as if he was there. “We are the same. I do understand. I’ve always understood. In the end, we always do our duty. Its what defines us. Rest in Peace, Ward.”

Marinette walked out of the cemetery with her head held high. She would stop for ice cream, and cross paths with a tall, handsome, green-eyed, blond man. He’d look right through her.

And it only bothered her a little.

Months after she left Paris again, for good she swore, she would hear on the news about the untimely death of Gabriel Agreste.

She would notify an hour later that Master Fu has surfaced in Paris again. The man had been watched by Shield for years.

She would be told that Master Fu had been spotted around Agreste home.

Marinette didn’t blink twice. It wouldn’t matter. Everyone had moved on. Adrien had moved. Marinette had moved on. And as far as the world was concerned Marinette Dupain-Cheng was dead. She had died years ago.

Seven months later, Coulson would bring her in to help train a new recruit. She would walk into the training room of the bus and see a tall, a tall, handsome, green-eyed, blond man with hope clear on his face, standing next to Coulson, looking at her like he was seeing the sun for the first time in years.

“Kitty?” Marinette whispered.

“My lady.”

Marinette was twenty-three when her world shattered yet again.

#ml salt #Marinette deserves better #marinette dupain cheng #grant ward #agents of shield #Skyeward #adrien agreste #adrien deserves better

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steve0discusses · 4 years ago

Text

S5 Ep13: How to Get Away With Cheating in the Card Olympics

It’s been a little while since Pegasus made a card that screwed us years after it was developed...and so it’s time for it to happen again. Good ol Pegasus, screwing us all and not even knowing he’s doing it.

First off, it took me until this episode to realize that Leon and Zigfried are German and Leon is playing a Grimm Brother’s deck. I guess I didn’t notice before now because Leon was hiding his identity. But now that I know his deck is because he’s just German it’s like...well OK. That’s kind of cute. Better than that time they had the American play a deck filled with guns.

And that actually...fully explains why they are all dressed old timey. I didn’t pick up on it until just now...they’re referencing old ass fairy tales. But wtv, I still like my reaching theories of why Zigfried dresses like...that.

PS, my twitter just notified me that lots of people are getting a ‘Hime Haircut’, which is exactly the doo that Zigfried wears this season with the cropped side bangs. And like...are we sure? I see Kpop wearing it and Tik Tok kids wearing wigs but...I have yet to see a Hime in the wild. Course I haven’t gone outside in like a year so...maybe tens of thousands of people really did do a Hime Haircut during the Quarantine.

But, damn it, I decided to look at some photos, and a bunch of them looked pretty bad, but a couple looked pretty dope, and now I’m a little bit tempted to get a Hime...but I feel like it took a decade to get out of my bangs phase and like...Do I need two layers of bangs? I have naturally straight hair, I could do this, this haircut was made for me, but...

I just don’t know if I should get a haircut that looks like I’m an anime cosplayer when I can’t back it up. Nope. Cannot get this haircut. I know this haircut was made for teenagers or artists in their 30′s, and literally no one else, but no, this will be a mistake just like the side bangs I gave myself in 2006.

(looks over at scissors)

(read more under the cut)

(get it? Cut?)

Leon recalls that his brother very nicely gave him a card, and he’s so excited to finally do any activity involving his crazy ass family, that he just blindly does it.

This entire episode is about Yami not doing a hellscape when he witnesses cheating, and like...it is S5...it’s been a little while since anyone’s done a real good cheat on him, and he opened the door to darkness, and they got devoured by their own Tamagachi. It’s been a while.

And like the curse of Episode 13 was just a theory I had--but this particular Episode 13 is probably the most tame of all the 13′s (and yet, the most un-tame of this arc, which is a pretty chill arc, overall)

Yet...while this episode still fits in with their universe because the Kaiba’s are very proud so they can’t admit their duel disk has a flaw and therefore can’t forfeit the game, it kind of stretches the imagination a bit for the sake of the plot. Straight up we have a LOT of characters in this arc and they all just stood there and watched it happened.

It could have been also because this is like...televised...that no one wants to start throwing this little boy off the nearest blimp. I just wish that was addressed in the episode, other than “listen...Kaiba must allow this card to be played...or all his Duel Disks are lies.”

His Duel Disk almost caused the end of planet Earth a few weeks back, so I think it’s fine. I think this is a negligible problem to have when your disk shoots projectiles out of each end and has sharp folding edges in the shape of a blade--almost attempting to slice your face off every time you wave that thing around.

Yes, he’s trying to restore his reputation after the whole Dartz thing...but this is like...not that bad in the scale of things that have happened in the past several seasons. Maybe it’s just the last straw that broke the camels back here? One thing too far--’your disk played a broke card, Kaiba, I am pulling my investments and I refuse to go to your theme parks. I was here when you blew up that island. I was here when your company was literally bought out by the illluminati...but if that duel disk can’t play cards correctly--we’re done here.’ And TBH...that’s a very Yugioh mentality to have.

Like remember that time that Elon musk threw a brick at one of his new weird looking cars and the windshield cracked? But he was like “Oh...that was just a...listen the windshields don’t shatter, you saw nothing.” and still released the car anyway? Was kind of reminded of that.

Now...he didn’t actually go into the Dev room, we’ll go into how the hell he got this card, but first, a visit to the Kaiba Dev room.

OOOOOOooooooooh

That’s so bright!

It reminds me of how in the 90′s, the only real thing I knew to do on my computer was change the colors of the UI, so I just used the ugliest ass UI known to man for my family’s computers. I hope these computers have a mouse that leaves a tail behind and I hope that mouse is in the shape of a flying sparkling dragon.

Anyway, Duke speaks what’s on our minds:

Meanwhile, Pegasus, watching this happen over a glass of wine from inside his bathtub at Castle Pegasus, takes one very long sip while sinking into a pile of bubbles.

Seto at first is like “I literally own this tournament so thanks for losing? I don’t know why you threw it out into the trash but thanks?” But Zigfried pressured him so hard that everyone on Earth would judge his ass, and tried so hard to change the definition of what cheating even is, that Seto relented almost as if to shut Zigfried the hell up.

Zigfried explained that, technically, it’s still reads as a legal card on the disk and isn’t reaaally against the rules. Even though the rules say it’s against the rules--what are rules anyway?

Thankfully we have the King of “I dictate what the rules are AKA the rules of the universe, which I would show you, I just don’t feel like it right now, and I’m a little worried about opening that Pandora’s box, but I clearly know the rules of this card game, as stated on this Home Depot plaque that Seto gave me after I won the last tourney.”

Leon gets pretty upset about this--not so much screwing Seto Kaiba, but over the fact his brother stole his only chance at trying to beat Yugi Muto fair and square. So, trying to retain what little card honor he has left, Leon tries to self sabotage so everyone can just go the hell home.

OK so...do you think he put a floppy disk into the paper card? Like straight up how did he do that? Feel free to post your theories because like...how do you hack a paper card? Like do we even have a canon explanation of what these cards are or what they are made out of and how they theoretically work?

Anyway, now that they’ve spent a good portion of this episode discussing if this card should or should not be played, and the ethics and philosophy surrounding that, we find out that none of this matters because Zigfried was actually just stalling.

(He hacked the card so it had a virus like straight up how did he DO that without making a new card?)

Huh.

Y’all, what if I could just delete Google?

Can you imagine?

Like I know this is a kid’s show so it follows kid’s show logic and I will absolutely allow this ridiculous master plan and I will not question it, but think with me for a sec:

What if you could just delete Disney?

Damn. That’s some Y2K scare tactics propaganda right there. That’s some good YA dystopian fiction stuff.

Yo is Zigfried the good guy? He’s not, but if this were a YA novel he would be, right? Good on him.

I...do not know how the logic in Zigfried’s brain works, but if someone deleted all the files in my collaborators company and showed up at my front door and was like “I heard you were looking for a new collaborator?” I’d stick him face first into a blank paper card.

Which is, logically, the next step to Zigfried’s plan that no one has bothered to tell him yet. You just don’t mess with Pegasus, especially after all the stuff he went though with getting murdered by Mai, and Dartz showing up, he’d be so pissed right now. He might not be technically magical anymore--but it’s clear after last season that he’s still magical enough. This is a man who’s let out into the wild maybe a couple of scary cards--but hell knows how many are buried in his huge ass castle just waiting to do a murder.

This is just Zigfried hassling a hornet and the hornets nest is like...right there.

And so next episode we are going to...destroy the card? Hell, next episode might be entirely a card game and I might only have 2 caps.

Anyway, just letting you know that I typed this last night, and then had dreams that I got a Hime Haircut and hella loved it, woke up at 5:30 AM thinking about that haircut, and have since been just...

...I mean I shouldn’t do it...I cannot give myself unironic Von Schroeder hair...

...

...but what if it’s dope though?

(and here’s the link to read these from the beginning in chrono order from S1. Wish I categorized in seasons but alas I did not have that forsight back when I thought there were only 3 seasons of Yugioh total. I have since learned.)

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

#yugioh #YGO #yu gi oh #episode recap #photo recap #S5 #Ep13 #Yugi Muto #leon von schroeder #zigfried von schroeder #seto kaiba #grandpa muto #mokuba kaiba #and literally everyone else who stood there and just watched it happen #Just thinking about how one hacks a card and I feel like that's totally possible but how though?

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do-y0u-have-to-let-it-linger · 4 years ago

Note

hi!!! can i get an x-men shift please? i’m bi (but hetero leaning) and use she/her pronouns. i’m a sagittarius, INTP, and am super into pop culture, movies tv shows music stuff like that. i’m an introvert, pretty shy at first but once you get to know me i’m pretty funny and kinda an asshole. i’m 5’7”, plus size and curvy, with longish wavy brown hair, blue eyes, and wear black glasses. i dress pretty comfy, jeans and t-shirts, sweatshirts, but i also have a leather jacket when i want to look more put together. mostly wear vans and converse. i love taylor swift, star wars, and all the superhero movies out there. i honestly don’t know what my mutation would be, i’ve never found one that fits right i guess. can’t wait to see who i’m paired with! love your blog, and thank you :)

I ship you with Peter Maximoff!

Warning: ✨contains swear words, mentions of being high, and grammatical errors probably✨

Peter is the type of person who thinks of bold and outrageous plans, but is horrible at executing them.

This is especially apparent now that he is part of the X-Men, because of the high stakes that often come hand and hand with these plans.

Yet at this moment, standing in front of you, attempting to respond to your simple and reasonable question, he feels as though the stakes of this plan are higher than any other he has previously made.

You and Peter were very close, most of you X-Men were. Shared trauma bonded you all like a family. So you were very comfortable around each other, like the: "We literally laugh at each other's farts and say 'love ya!' When one of us leaves a room." comfortable, so it concerned you that he seemed so nervous. You repeated your, as previously stated, simple and reasonable question.

"Peter, what the fuck."

You were mid-way through Empire Strikes Back when he first appeared, standing in front of the TV. Generally, when someone is watching a movie alone with the volume level barely audible, at 2 AM in the morning, they do not expect to be interrupted, but there he was. Interrupting you.

So you had asked him if he wanted to watch the movie with you and he said no.

Then you asked him if something was wrong and he said no.

But after he had stood in front of the television long enough for you to have paused the movie, you had come to the conclusion that he was messing with you. Hence the two "what the fuck"s.

He finally responded, seemly returning to his body after his brain's small vacation to who knows where.

"I need to talk to you about something important, and I wanted it to go a certain way but that way never actually happens so I'm doing it another way." Well, that was even more incoherent than his usual sentences.

"Wait- are you high again?"

"No! No. Well, maybe a little- but that's not the point."

"Sure, now what's going on."

"We're like... technically co-workers because of us being X-Men and shit, right?"

"If Bat-Man and Robin are co-workers, then yes."

"Don't be self-deprecating, you're way cooler than a silly side-kick."

You raised your eyebrows at him, "I wasn't Robin in that analogy, but thank you."

"Wait, I'm Robin?"

"You are a grown man who just used the world silly un-ironically, and I feel like that's something Robin would do. Just to clarify I don't know shit about Bat-man."

"Hey I'm barely a grown man- I'm not 25 yet, that would entail being a grown man, and I've got time 'till then! Anyway, stop going off-topic."

"Then move on from being weirdly defensive about being an adult in the eyes of the state."

"Touché. So, we're co-workers."

"Correct. What's the point."

"That's a problem."

"Why?"

"Well, ok this needs to be prefaced so consider this me shushing you in a respectful and not sexist way. You have been shushed."

"...Ok?"

"Shh! Now I get to ramble. So you know movies?" He gestured towards the school's collection of movies that sat next to the tv, and you nodded confused. "So in these movies, things happen certain ways, but those certain ways seem just as scary as the opposite of those ways." Yeah, he was totally high. "So, wow I'm starting so many sentences with the word 'so'. Anyway- I want to tell you something but I don't want it to be like a movie but I don't want it to be like not in a movie either. So I just want to say it then leave. Like- I'm going to run after I say it. Is that okay? You are temporarily un-shushed."

"If you're dying it's not, but if it's basically anything else then yeah. Go for it, you speedy coward."

"Cool. I mean- the nickname hurt but cool. Cool." He looked at you for a second. "Can you like... turn around?"

"Turn around?"

He now acknowledged that that was an odd thing to ask. "...Yeah. Is that dumb?"

"No, no, I'll turn around." To lighten the awkward mood, you made a joke. "A reasonable price for your terrible secrets to be revealed to me." It was not a very funny joke, but you tried your best and earned a (pity) scoff from him.

You were now both sitting criscrossed on the couch, facing the same direction. You were staring at a wall you found very uninteresting, and he was staring at the back of the head belonging to a person he found very interesting.

"So- basically I think you're... pretty..." He said the word intending to add another adjective after it, like 'cool', but he decided against it because that would be stupid. "And I have this problem where when I figure out I want to, quote-unquote, date someone, which is a gross word, by the way, I'm always friends with them. That means it has to be this dramatic thing. But I don't want it to be! You know? I just want to tell you that I have a stupid crush on you like a normal person. And- that's why I suddenly started hating training, because who likes to see people they want to smooch almost fake die, huh? No one! That's who! And I want to explain why I like you, but whenever I talk to Wanda about you, I always end up describing you the way a first grader describes their crush! Like: she's pwetty and smawt or whatever but that's fuckin' dumb. I guess that makes sense because I don't have crushes on people ever, and I barely dated in school, so I have no idea how to do this and I just want to pass you one of those 'hey, do you like me?!' notes with the fuckin' checkmarks!! And I am an adult person who is kind of afraid of kissing! What?!? Also, I don't have abs like Scott! Or boobs, and I know you like people with or without boobs and boobs are great! Also, to backtrack, don't think that I think you would go for Scott, even though if you were to, I would be supportive of you, but also sad because I would prefer if you went for me! So I want to be normal. Normal like the people in movies who meet someone cute and ask them out and not like the movies with the big stupid confessions. Trust me, if I had noticed that I whatever you like a year ago, I would have asked you out! Well no I wouldn't of because I would be too afraid to talk to you. But anyway I made you this," He reached around you and handed you a folded-up note. "Don't open it until I run away, but just leave it here with your response. If you check no, I bet if we paid Jean enough money she would erase this interaction from our brains. I only have seven dollars but I'm betting on a 'friends and family' discount. But.. if you say yes, I can ask you out like a dick in a movie, knowing you'll say yes because I am a speedy coward. I want you to call me a speedy coward when I do cowardly shit speedily, then do this cute thing where you'd be like 'but you're my speedy coward''. Anyway, I'm going to leave now. Love ya, but in the way we always said it beforehand, not in a dramatic confession way. Sorry I delved into my childhood there. Bye." You felt him awkwardly pat your back.

There was a gust of wind that ruffled your hair, and you knew he had run away.

You lifted the note up, mind empty, still processing everything he had rambled to you, and started carefully unfolding it.

It was one of his previously mentioned "Do you like me?" notes.

You willed yourself not to straight-up giggle like a 12-year-old at his note. It was messily written, and clearly on the back of a mission briefing.

Shit, you didn't have a pen. You looked under the couch cushions but there was no form of a writing utensil in sight! The audacity.

You knew Peter well enough to know that he was probably not too far away, waiting for the result of his question and trying not to spy.

"Hey... uh... Peter? I don't have a pen."

Peter hit his forehead with his hand, where the fuck was he going to get a pen? It's not like he owned pens that were actually in a designated spot! How ridiculous would that be, who did he look like, Charles? Charles! Charles has pens in designated pen places!

So Peter ran into the headmaster's office and found a pen. He wrote a small note stating that he borrowed a pen and that he would return it. Looking at the note Peter found it did not fully encapsulate the desperate need for the pen. The note ended up something like this:

Hey Charles! It's Peter! I took borrowed a pen because a very serious situation manner situation has arised. arisen. From, Peter. You can't get mad at me because if you could legally marry my dad you would be married and I would basically be your step son! Thanks half dad!

He thought the addition of the 'step' in stepson effectively hid the fact that Charles was a father figure of his. What was he doing here again? The serious manner!

In an instant of you telling Peter that you did not have a pen, one appeared.

"Thank you!"

You checked the yes box, but had a want to write something adorable. You couldn't think of anything so you just wrote "This was weird." under your checkmark. Well played.

You entertained the idea of resuming your movie but decided against it, you thought it would be more dramatic if you left the room.

The minute you made your exit Peter sprinted into the room. He opened your note, jumped, pumped his fist in the air, realized that was nerdy, and tried to make a cool pose to recover.

Now he just had to figure out how the fuck he was going to ask you out.

#me 🤝 juxtaposing fancy words with words like stupid and cool and nice because i think it's funny #the muse has been gone for a few days so i hope this is good #screw you muse i'm writing anyway!#peter maximoff x reader #ship request #the ending is weird and the pacing is off but ily so forgive me

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satoruvt · 5 years ago

Text

the color of you - blue (6)

ITS HERE. I HOPE I DID WELL. PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THOUGHT AKDSHKFJSDH

pairing → keigo takami x reader

word count → 3213

summary → you’re not really dating, so you can’t really be in love with him... right?

song inspo → hell of flying by jeremy zucker, cassette by demian, a lil of bugbear by chloe moriondo

this chapter → y/n comes to conclusions, keigo’s a dork, tension, a fight, crying.

So it’s been… strange.

Or rather, it hasn’t been strange at all, which makes everything even more strange, somehow. You feel like things should be so much different, but they’re not. You reached a wild conclusion that threw you for a fucking loop, made you sit in your kitchen at Angel Cakes and contemplate what the hell you were going to do about anything that would ever occur to you from here on out. Sometimes you almost ask Keigo how things haven’t changed at all, since you’ve decided that you like him, but then you have to stop yourself from saying anything because, oh, right, you haven’t told him.

You don’t plan to, either.

It’d just mess everything up, wouldn’t it? To say “hey, I know we’ve been fake dating for like two and a half months now but I’m kind of liking the idea of really dating you”? Kinda fucked. Not to mention, from a professional stance, what if it ruins your guys’ chemistry when you’re being watched by the entire world? If someone finds out that the whole thing is fake - regardless of your feelings - it means Keigo’s public image and your entire life at the bakery. Everything would go to shit, and after it’s burned down, you doubt you’d even have Keigo.

So you’re not telling him. You’re in love with one of your closest friends, who you are also fake dating, who is also the Number Two hero in the country, and you’re not telling him how you feel. Yes. Okay.

You’ve had a lot of time to reflect about your own feelings, because after Keigo left to fight that villain the other day (and after you managed to get off the ground and clean up) you were sure it was a heat-of-the-moment thing. Yeah, he looked pretty, and there was something dreamy and domestic about laughing and throwing baking ingredients at each other, so maybe your heart just got confused.

But you’d called him to ask if he was okay (instead of a usual text) and he’d picked up the phone and laughed and your heart had not done that before. Not with Keigo, not on the phone, and not like that. And usually his pet names amused you, but he’d called you “sweetheart” over the phone and his voice was tired and drawled a bit. It made you dizzy. You said goodbye pretty soon after that.

You’re barely walking up the stairs of your apartment complex when your phone buzzes in your pocket. Butterflies (and moths, a few) erupt in your stomach when you read the name, and then immediately die when you read the text itself.

keigo baby 🐦

Do u want to have a playdate with me 👉👈 I could come over if ur mom says its okay

Why him? You think to yourself, swallowing the vomit in your throat and fishing your keys out of your bag to unlock your door. You text back when you get inside, throwing your belongings on the nearest surface.

y/n

don’t ever talk to me again

keigo baby 🐦

Is that a yes??

y/n

….fine, but if u ever use those emojis again i’ll break up with u. legally

keigo baby 🐦

baby no!!!!

You throw your phone down onto your sofa before flopping over it, letting yourself sink into the cushions for a moment. It takes no more than ten minutes for Keigo to be at your door, letting himself in without so much as a knock. You know that it’s technically your doing, since you didn’t lock it when you came in, but you still whine at him about it, and he mocks you jokingly.

It seems he either senses your tiredness or didn’t have anything in mind to do anyways, because all Keigo does is lift your legs up from where they’re sprawled out on the couch and sits down in their place, letting them flop back onto his lap. He adjusts so his wings aren’t smashed against the back of the couch (or, at least, not as much). You move your feet off of his lap.

You’ve come to really appreciate days like this, where you simply bask in his company and he does yours. As much as Keigo is nonchalant about his lifestyle, you know it’s exhausting for him to do what he does every single day, and then to have to talk to people (fans, reporters, anyone). He doesn’t need to say anything for you to know. And, well, if you can give him a moment of comfort -

God, no, stop thinking like that. You can’t afford to think like that right now.

The two of you talk, occasionally sharing posts from social media and laughing at dumb little cat videos (there was one that was five whole minutes of one of the guys from that k-pop band being compared to cat pictures and it’s the most wholesome thing you’ve ever seen to date). Before you know it, it’s been a few hours, the sun just fully covered by the distant mountains. The sky cools down in purple and blue hues, dressing up for the night to come. You and Keigo are laughing over old vines, and in your mind you think that it really couldn’t be that bad for this to be every night instead of just… some nights.

At the end of the compilation Keigo groans out a lingering laugh, stretching his legs out as best he can without hitting your coffee table. You stand up, feeling the need to move around as well, and walk towards your kitchen for a drink. Keigo stands after you but doesn’t move, letting his wings flex and stretch from being contained for so long. You get a glass of water, lift it to your lips just as Keigo lifts his arms above his head and holy fucking shit, his stomach -

Tummy! the tiny voice in your head squeals, but the hornier one screams at the top of its lungs ABS and honestly you don’t know what the fuck to do and neither does your body so you choke on your water. Keigo startles, eyes wide, and with a mumbled “holy shit” makes his way over to you as you cough and sputter over your sink.

It takes a minute, but you eventually come back, eyes watery and face red for multiple reasons. You take a deep breath and Keigo rubs your back, eyeing you, which only makes the entire situation worse.

“Jesus, are you okay?” He asks, and you nod, but you can’t look at him.

“Yeah, uh,” you clear your throat, blinking a few times. “Just… went down the wrong pipe, I guess.”

Fuck.

You barely recover from seeing a sliver of Keigo’s stomach, and the memory haunts you for days. You attempt at willing it out of your brain, try to tell yourself that you just didn’t see it at all, but your heart is strong as hell and refuses to let your head forget it. You think about it multiple times a day. You think about it for at least twenty minutes each time. You think about it until Keigo texts you a little less than a week after it happened.

Your phone buzzes on the counter in the kitchen and you finish up your bread dough, putting it into a bowl gently and setting a timer to let it prove. Once your hands are effectively clean, you open the message, letting yourself scoff.

keigo baby 🐦

Just finished a photoshoot, could really use a donut right now :/

Attached to his message is a picture of himself, and honestly, he looks really fucking good. It takes pretty much everything in you not to collapse and die. God.

You look up a picture of a donut on Google - they sold out today, and you are not going to make one just for Keigo - and send it to him. For my hardworking fake boyfriend, you send with it. Mostly to emphasize fake for both of you. Yourself especially.

keigo baby 🐦

Fake??? :( sweetheart, u hurt me

Your mind stops working when you read his text, so you leave him on read.

The next time you see Keigo in person is when you’re contemplating whether or not you should keep… hanging out with him.

The contract only has a little over a month left, so it’s not as if it’d be that hard to deal with… besides, it’d be easier on the both of you when this whole thing inevitably ends. You don’t see yourself being able to be around him without thinking about kissing him over and over. Not now, at least. You hope it changes. You hope it’s a weird phase or something.

Keigo texts you and invites - demands - you over (his excuse is that with the hero conference coming up soon many of the smaller heroes are taking care of villains and giving him more time off) and honestly, if you’re really gonna try to stop talking to him as much, this could be your goodbye or whatever. Also, he mentioned wine, and you need to get drunk. Like, “give me an entire bottle so I can cope with the idea of falling for you because I know that you don’t feel the same and I am simply trying to ride out the rest of this “relationship” so I don’t ruin our dynamic and chemistry while we’re being watched by literally the entire world” drunk.

Yeah. It’s been a rough few weeks.

Every time you go to Keigo’s apartment it reminds you of just how broke you are, but you suppose the apartment itself is fitting. It’s definitely modern, but it holds the clutter of Keigo’s personality - blankets strung everywhere, LED lights, a poster of Endeavor hung up in his closet (but you’re sworn to secrecy about that, you pinky promised). When you knock on his door he doesn’t answer, and it’s a good minute and a half before you get a text that says “it’s open, come in” and you sigh, because again, why him?

He’s sitting on the couch, and when he sees you he smiles like he didn’t just refuse to open the door because he’s too lazy. “Well, if it isn’t the love of my life,” he says, and for a second you can fool yourself into believing it’s genuine.

“I’m just here for the wine, dude,” you tease, and he mocks offense at your words.

“Ouch. Mid-relationship rejection.”

Nonetheless, Keigo gets the wine himself (selective little shit) and two glasses, pours each of you one. It isn’t long before you’ve had at least three glasses but no more than five, and you’re maybe, perhaps, a little drunk.

Keigo is, too, so you’re not really alone, but he’s talking about something Endeavor did like he’s the greatest hero in the world. It makes you smile, just a bit, but then again, you’re usually sentimental when you’re drunk, so maybe it’s just that. Or maybe it’s because you like him. It doesn’t really matter now.

“Hey, Kei,” you murmur when he’s done with his story. He hums, takes another sip out of his glass. “What happens when this is over?”

You look at your feet, scrunching up your toes inside your socks so you have something to look at. Then your eyes move up more, to the top of his coffee table, and then finally they land on him, and he looks gorgeous. He always does.

Keigo blinks once, twice, then shrugs, goes back to his wine. “Dunno. I hope we’re still friends, though,” he says.

“Friends? You want to be friends?”

You’re drunk. You should go to sleep, or go home, or something. Talking is not something you should be doing.

“What?” Keigo asks, but more like he didn’t hear you rather than he didn’t understand, so you take your chance, even through your hazed mind.

“Nothing,” you say, swirling the wine in your glass. “Forget about it.”

And it seems like he does, because when you wake up on his couch the next morning with a killer headache and he stumbles out of his room with a groan he doesn’t mention anything about it even when he talks about everything else.

Keigo texts you a few days later, a picture of him posing with another wine bottle.

keigo baby 🐦

round 2??

The picture is cute. He’s smiling, all lips and curves and blonde hair and tan skin. He’s dressed in sweats, you can see, but he still looks like a model. It makes your heart sink and fly at the same time.

y/n

can’t, sorry. have to stay late at angel cakes. i’ll see u at the hero conference tho

He doesn’t text you for a while after that.

The conference comes quick, and before you know it you’re in another hotel suite, getting makeup done. It doesn’t take as much dressing up - your dress is shorter this time, less formal, your makeup less extravagant. You don’t feel nervous, not like last time, but you don’t necessarily feel comfortable either. Your makeup artist is different this time.

It takes a considerably less amount of time for you to get ready, and you stare at yourself in the mirror before it’s time to go. Your dress is beautiful - blue, royal, deep and light at the same time and gorgeous. Simple, too, nothing too out there. When you step out of the hotel room you notice Keigo’s still in his hero costume, but you suppose he has to be. You don’t match with him like you did last time.

There’s no banter, no teasing, no compliments. The ride to the venue is quiet. Keigo sends you a look at one point - a “tell me what’s wrong” look - but you only shrug, offer him the best smile you can, which apparently isn’t convincing, because he frowns when he sees it. You wish he wouldn’t frown so much.

The conference is short, but maybe you’re just distracted. An usher walks you to your seat at a VIP table and it seems like you sit down and then it ends. You clap for Keigo, smile like you’re endlessly proud of him - and you are, even if it doesn’t show that well tonight - and watch him make a scene becuase that’s what he does. He winks at you at one point during the night, while he’s talking into the microphone, and you know it’s for the publicity. The conference ends significantly earlier than the awards show, however, so you don’t have to stay in the suite for the night.

The ride back to the suite seems shorter than the ride to the venue and it takes you maybe twenty minutes to wipe the makeup off of your face and take off your dress. You walk across the hall to Keigo’s room, knock on the door. He answers.

“Okay, I’m gonna head out, I’m feelin’ kinda tired,” you tell him with a small smile. “Just wanted to say bye.”

“Let me walk you home,” he says instead, and your brain yells at you no!

“No, it’s fine, Kei -”

“Please. I want to.”

He’s never said that before, and a part of you knows you wouldn’t be able to say no to him even if he hadn’t, so you nod and let him follow you out of the hotel and to your apartment. The walk is silent and it makes you feel uneasy but you can’t really do anything about it, not with what you’re trying to do, so nothing happens until you reach your apartment.

You know where this is going, even if you don’t want to, so you take a deep breath, hold the door open for him so Keigo can come inside. He looks at you weirdly for a moment but then enters your apartment, standing in the junction of your entryway and living room like he’s uncomfortable. You let him, then walk to the kitchen for something to drink.

“What’s wrong with you?” You ask, eyeing him suspiciously.

Keigo scoffs. “Shouldn’t that be my line?”

You know he noticed - it’s impossible not to, but you didn’t think… you didn’t think he’d call you out on it. Your pause is evident, but you pretend like it didn’t happen at all. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say.

“Yeah? Wanna rethink that, sweetheart?”

The almost-malice in his tone when he says your usual pet name startles you, and when you look up at Keigo it seems like it startled him, too, doe-eyed and looking at you. You shake your head, walking out of the kitchen and into the living room behind him to throw your things down, try to pass the message to him that this is not good. “You’re wrong,” you say.

“I’m not - I’m not wrong, Y/N,” he says, turning around to look at you. “Every time I see you it seems like you’re pushing me away, like you’re not here, and I don’t know if I did something, but I -” he pauses, runs a gloved hand over his face and you want to tell him that it’s not his fault, but that would lead to you telling him everything, and you can’t. “I miss you.”

His voice is broken. When you speak again, your voice sounds like his, but somehow worse. Smaller. “You’re wrong,” you insist. You know he’s not.

“I’m not,” he pushes back. “I’d like to think that in the months we’ve been -”

He stops himself, and you take your opportunity. “That we’ve been what? Dating? We’re not dating, Keigo, we both signed a fucking contract to benefit your public image! This is nothing!”

You have no idea what you’re doing. It’s not nothing. It will never be nothing.

“You think this is nothing?”

“Look me in the eye and tell me that you know for sure we’ll still be friends when this is over.”

He can’t, and he won’t. You’re trying really hard not to cry, but it hurts to fight with him like this, and it hurts that you think you’re falling in love with him, and it hurts that if you tell him it’ll ruin everything and it hurts, so a few tears slip out anyways.

“Y/N,” Keigo says, and his voice is so soft. You want to melt into him, but you shy away when he reaches for you. “Please just tell me -”

“I can’t do this anymore,” you choke out. “I can’t - I’m - I’m calling it. I’ll send my lawyer if you need anything but I just…”

You can’t even look at him. Has he always been so far away?

“Get out, Keigo.”

It sounds so cold, so unfamiliar, coming from your mouth and you half expect another person to have said it entirely. This isn’t you, this isn’t how you and Keigo act, this isn’t… this isn’t it. There’s a pause, like he’s waiting for something, but then you hear him sigh - practically feel him deflate, and then he walks out of your apartment, door shutting quietly behind him.

It’s so quiet when he’s gone.

You take a deep breath, walk back to your bedroom, curl into yourself on the bed, and cry in the blue light of the sky left behind by the sun.

#GUYS I LOVE ANGST I HOPE I HYPED THIS UP ENOUGH #AHHHHHHH #bnha x reader #mha x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia imagine #my hero academia imagine #keigo takami x reader #takami keigo x reader #hawks x reader #bnha hawks x reader #hawks bnha x reader #keigo takami imagine #x reader #reader insert #imagine #tcoy #the color of you

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fishybehavior · 4 years ago

Text

His biggest heist [Part 1]

Borg tower; the pinnacle of technology, security, and the future. Filled with information and innovation. It was one of the symbols of New Ninjago City and has been propped up as unbreakable.

So Jay decided to break in.

And that wasn’t even the best bit, he was getting paid to do it too.

Eight hundred feet in the air, on a window washer lift making it go as high as it could go. It was 10 pm, and Borg industries were having its annual gala. Security was lax so high up, everyone focusing on the first dozen floors, anything about 50 should be bare of breathing guards. But then again, Borg Industries was known for unconventional guards. But that's where Jay’s secret weapon came into play.

“How’s the hacking going Zane?” Jay spoke into his mouthpiece, the familiar metallic voice on the other end huffing in reply.

“No, you’re still out of range. They work on a short-ranged signal for a reason.”

“Well sorry princess, I thought it’d be better now we’re halfway up this stupidly tall building.” He muttered as the lift would go any higher. They were hovering at about floor 55, and he needed to still get up another 20 or so floors. “Welp, I guess I’m just climbing the rest.” He sighed as he unclipped his harness rope from the lift, messing with the controls for his harness.

“What! Your free climbing? The wind speeds are 40mph, you’ll be blown off!”

Jay was messing with the new features he added to his gauntlets. “Don’t worry, I’ve been working on a feature that allows me to stick to glass with electro-static leftover from the residual power.”

“First, you can't just confuse me with technical language like everyone else to get me to stop talking. I know what you're saying, and secondly, that feature isn’t field-tested. You don't know how well it works in real-world conditions!”

“Well, I guess it's time to test them then!” He cheered as he stuck his hand on the glass, it stuck and he tested it before he put his foot out and allowed it to stick. Soon he was completely off the lift, attached to the glass window like gum. Laughing gleefully he started to climb up the wall.

He could still hear Zane mumbling, “I swear you have a death wish.”

Jay elected to ignore the comment, “Tell me when you're in range.” He continued to climb about 10 stories, quickly becoming used to his new life as a tree frog as he methodically climbed the architecture.

“You're in range,” Zane quipped, and Jay stopped, letting his partner take over for the next bit. Zane had to hack in the short wave connection of the android guards. Allowing him to enter without alerting them and without tipping off Borg something was off with his toys.

“Do you have it, Zane?” Jay questioned, he didn’t like sitting here like a duck. Ducks got spotted and fed bread, and he wasn’t hungry.

“Finished,” The AI boasted, “Those androids are ridiculously simple once I cracked the firewall. Their visual and audio inputs are on a loop, so as long as you don't touch them they won't know you're there.” Jay could practically hear him smile. Zane may not always like his criminal behavior, but he couldn’t deny that this was so much more fun than playing go-fish in his dorm.

Jay finally got to his floor, giving Zane a minute to disable the alarm, he cut through the two-inch-thick glass with his laser cutter. Pushing in quietly he stepped into a dim hallway, getting surprised as an android guard walked up to him. He had to step back, flatting himself to the wall so it wouldn’t touch him. But it walked by, disappearing into a door right next to him. Opening the door with its identification code.

Jay let it walk in and before the door could close he slipped followed after it. Walking into another dim hallway with three doors on the end, “Ok Zane, I should be close, can you get me through the doors?” All the doors needed an id to get through, but he couldn’t follow the same android, it was going through the left door and he had to go right.

“Already ahead of you. Do you need me to tell you where to go too? How about what we’re looking for too,” He asked slightly annoyed.

“Haha. You’re very funny.” Jay quipped back, going to the right door to enter. He knew that Zane hated doing all the work, but this wasn’t a simple museum where the most he needed was noticed when the police called. The security here was tight, and the only way he could do it is if he stayed unnoticed. And he couldn’t hack everything as quickly or as unnoticed as Zane could. And being quick was the key to getting in and out without being caught.

Zane provided a code, and Jay projected it onto the scanner beside the door, opening it and Jay slid through. Jay continued to sneak throughout the seemingly endless hallways, avoiding the android guards that stood by some doors, and others that walked up and down the hallway. Staying as far from them as he could, he trusted Zane’s hacking, but things could always go wrong. The deeper he got into the building, the dimmer the hallways became, telling Jay that the security here was taking more electricity than previous. Whenever someone would come here legally they would turn on the aux lights, but he wasn't being very legal at the moment. Not that it bothered him. His bionic eye was equipped with ocular adjustments more sensitive than his natural eyes, making the dimness seem brighter than it was.

Jay opened one more door and saw the door he was searching for, it looked like all the others, but it had android guards on either side. Approaching the machines he looked at the door, it opened just like all the others, with a scanner on the right side right behind the android. It gave him about four inches to maneuver, but that should be just enough. Taking a deep breath he slid his arm between the two, and with a flick, he activated the projector for the code right onto the scanner. The door giving a slight hiss as it opened, Jay froze waiting for the guards to attack him. But they didn’t even twitch as the door opened, sighing he pulled his arm back and walked in. The door shut behind him and lights flicked on automatically. Bathing the small room in harsh light. Hissing at the sudden brightness Jay tried to take in what he was seeing.

There was only one thing in the room. A red mask with white markings swirling about the face. The mouth was closed with big teeth prodding from the mouth. The eye holes were rimmed in black as the mask's impressive eyebrows squinted in discontentment. The mask was in a glass case, and there were four more guards at each corner of the display case.

"Ok Zane, what am I looking at?"

"A mask in a display case," Zane answered simply, and he could hear him chuckling as Jay facepalmed at his response. "I know I know." Zane chortled as he looked at the alarms and electronic triggers around the room. "By opening the door with a legal code, the room sensors were disengaged, but the androids are directly linked to the case. If it's opened without authentication, they will either attack you or attempt to destroy the mask."

Jay stepped closer to the mask, looking for any physical triggers too, "Ok, so what's the authentication key?"

He heard Zane hum as he tried to answer his question, "A vocal command it seems. A person who matches the vocal key and a certain phrase is needed, but I can't decipher what the phrase is." He huffed in frustration.

"Here show me. I'll help." And the code appeared on his gauntlets projector. The two looked at the code, slowly decoding what meant what. Finally, they were able to get a phrase, "Release alarm on case 198-021, by the authority of Cyrus Borg." Jay read aloud, chuckling at the unoriginal phrase. "Could you construct a synthesizer in Borg's voice?"

"I can certainly try, but it may take some time."

"How long?"

"At least ten minutes."

"Can you do it in seven, we don't have the luxury of time."

"I'm working as fast as I can, but you may need to try and find another way if you can't wait," Zane said, returning to work on the synthesizer.

Jay huffed, as he studied the case and the androids. He knew the blueprints of robots well, he could just short-circuit them. But he couldn't do all four at once. And anyway, once he took one out, every android not assigned to a position would converge on him. Not a welcome outcome, so he either had to get the voice key or find a way to keep the alarm system from triggering. But that was going to be tricky because it was a physical trigger on the glass case, either for pressure or an electrical current. If you disrupted it, the alarm would go off. Maybe he could cut into the glass itself? Take out the top and pull out the mask? He'd have to make sure that the mask itself wasn't on a pressure plate as well, but it would be a good option.

"Zane, how's the key going?"

"Poorly, I'm able to get the rest of the phrase, but the different pronunciation possibilities for 198-021 make it nye impossible to make a perfect key with no reference."

"Well, what you have now, will it work?" Jay questioned

"I'm uncertain. I don't know if the phrase needs to be verbatim to work. If it's not right, we'll set off the alarms." Zane hummed in thought, calculating the risk that going through with the vocal key would take.

"It's too much of a risk, we should try to break into the case itself. Zane is the mask on a pressure plate?" Jay questioned the AI, and he heard him hum in thought as he looked through the available resources.

"I can't tell for certain. There are two triggers, but I can't tell if one is for the mask, or if they're both for the case."

"No matter which one we choose, we risk an alarm. I'm going to try and cut into the top. Zane be at the ready. If the alarm does go off, I need you to deactivate the four androids here and the two at the door." Jay said, he knew that there wasn't a kill switch that would work for all the androids, needing to be turned off individually. But if he was going to get out without being caught, he had to depend on Zane's ability for multitasking and speed. Or he'd be a fish in a barrel.

"Of course," Zane hummed, setting up the code to try and find the kill switch. Once he activated it Borg would be notified that something was wrong and the other androids would converge on their location. Which drastically cut their chances of escape. Too much for Zane's comfort. "Ready when you are." He stated ready to kill the androids if needed.

Jay rolled his shoulders, loosening the stress that's been building for the last half an hour. He knew he only had about 10-20 more minutes before something happened. Either someone noticed the androids were on loop or would spot him on camera. He had to act now or get caught. Taking a deep breath he adjusted his laser for the thickness and type of glass he was cutting.

"Here we go," he breathed as he began to cut.

#ninjago #thief au #thceif #jay #zane #cyrus borg #borg tower #hiest #break in #part 1 #lets GOOOO #i finally wrote something!!!#fic #im sorry if this makes no sence #i finished at like midnight #i just really want to post it

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theonetheycallhannah · 4 years ago

Text

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter Four: E-Stim

Pairing: Captain “Sy” Syverson x OFC (Shane Benton)

Summary: Shane deals with the consequences of her email to her boss, both good and bad. A mortifying situation has an…unexpected outcome. Emotions run high in the fourth chapter of The Tx of Sy! Behind on the action? Catch up HERE!

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Language, some angst and emotions. (Like I literally cried writing part of it) And like, an asshole boss…but if you stick it out with Susan, you won’t be disappointed.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

Tags:

@onlyhenrys

@cavillryarchive

@summersong69

@titty-teetee

@bloodyinspiredfuck

@agniavateira

@oddsnendsfanfics

(you didn’t ask, but i took the liberty! Hope that’s okay!)

@tumblnewby @suavechops

Shane had spent her morning getting ready for work and treating her first patient with a whopping headache…maybe a small glass of wine would have been more responsible of her. But she slept like the dead, which was the goal.

She took a moment before her second patient to check her email…there was a reply from Susan.

Shane, come to my office at your next possible availability.

No "thank you" or "please" or "fuck you very much." just an order. Last she checked, SHE wasn't in the military. Since Heather wasn't in yet, she messaged the secretary on duty, Marsha, to see if she could find a way to make an opening in her morning. She wanted to get this meeting over with.

Sure, Shane. Looks like Cory could take your next patient, if you like. He's seen him before.

Perfect. Please make that change and block me for a meeting with Susan. Thank you so much.

She saw Cory walk by, and warned him. "Cory, I'm having Marsha move Mr. Greenbaum to you next hour. I need to meet with Susan about something." she rolled her eyes.

"Oh, shit. Okay. No problem." Cory knew all too well the fuckery that a Susan meeting could entail.

"I really appreciate it. I owe you big time."

"Nah, Mr. G is cool. We just talk about huntin' and stuff."

"He'll probably like that we switched, then." she laughed. And headed for what felt like the principal's office. Bleak and miserable.

She knocked on the door, and was told in an all too cheerful manner to come in.

"Hey!"

"Morning Susan."

"Close the door and have a seat, Shane."

She typed away for a moment before fully engaging…as was her way. She thought it gave her the power. It really just annoyed the fuck out of everyone.

"So, tell me what's going on with this patient you emailed me about."

"Well, he's an ACL and MCL tear, traumatic, plus a dislocated patella. He did it during a mission in Iraq. Ummm, he's improving a lot. Potter did the surgery. He had him keep the crutches about two weeks longer than we thought he would, but--"

"No I mean…this relationship. What's the deal, here?"

"Oh, there's not much to say about it, really. He's been fairly flirty from pretty early on. I've been able to ignore it, but to be honest, I think he's a really great guy, and I think he deserves better than me ignoring his advances, especially when, to be honest Susan, the feelings he has for me are not unrequited." her heart was racing. More than if Sy had been in the room flirting with her, but so much less pleasant.

"I don't think you should see this guy until the treatment is over. What if it doesn't work out and he doesn't want to come here anymore because of you." That hurt…not that it wasn't rattling around in her head, too.

"Well, Susan, to be honest, that's one reason I haven't spoken up about this already. I have that fear. But he's been very adamant about it lately, and it's been on my mind a lot, and I think I owe it to the both of us to see it through."

"I think I should call this guy. Let me pull him up."

She gave her his details to get his information pulled up in their system. God, this was embarrassing. She should have known this nightmare was coming.

"Hello?" a gravelly bark came across the speakerphone.

"Hello, Mr. Syverson?"

"Captain Syverson, yes, Ma'am." She wasn't expecting him to pull rank…and he did it so politely.

"Sorry, Captain Syverson. My name is Susan DeForrest, I'm the manager here at Fort Wood Therapy Clinic. How are you this morning?"

"This side of the daisies ain't worth complainin. What can I do ya for, ma'am?"

"Well, I have Miss Benton, your therapist here in a meeting. You're on speaker."

"Hey Sy." Shane mewled sheepishly.

"Hey there, Shane." she could hear the smile in his voice. She didn't know if Susan could.

"She's saying that the two of you would like to see each other socially, outside of therapy."

"Oh, that's not quite the words I'd use, ma'am, but I s'pose you're technically correct."

"And she's explained to you that this facility has a policy in place regarding such fraternization?" What a load of bullshit she was shoveling. Making it sound so sinister and clandestine what she and Sy were trying to start up. Like espionage. This woman…

"I'm aware that certain policies exist like that to protect patients or customers, and more frequently the staff from situations that could present problems for both or either parties. I am not aware that a strict policy exists to police your staff in such a stringent manner. In fact, I know the opposite to be true."

"Excuse me?" Susan asked, shell shocked.

"See, them policies o' yours, they're all available online. Public knowledge. Even your personnel ones. Now, y'all have a nice and thorough handbook, I mean, I have been up all night just pouring over this like honey on toast, and I can tell you, I ain't findin' a word about y'all not being allowed to date your patients."

"Well, it's in policy number…"

"Nope, you were gonna say 47, subsection 2, part b. But that just says that you shouldn't treat anyone you're close to (i.e. friend, relative, or significant other) if you can't maintain objectivity or your own comfortability. Now, if I'd make Shane uncomfortable, or if she lost her objectivity over me, I'd be devastated. Shane, do I or do you think I could make you uncomfortable or unobjective?" he was laying it on so thick. If she hadn't been falling for him, this would have done it.

"I don't think so, Sy." She held back a smile…but not well.

"There ya have it. Miss DeForrest, I trust that Shane is free to live her life in the way she sees fit?"

"Well, I still think she should wait…" Susan started, but was cut off again by Sy.

"Because you see, I've seen a lot of young people fail to grow old. A lot of people waitin' to do things…they never ended up doin'. This life…it can be real, real short, Miss DeForrest. And I'm not keen on waitin' to be happy when I could be happy right now. Have I made myself clear enough for you? Or do I need to go to the next link in the chain of command here?" The emotion and resolve in his voice was completely shattering. He wasn't crying. But Shane and Susan both were. And then suddenly, Susan sniffed herself into composure and answered him with dignity.

"No, Captain Syverson. That will not be necessary. Shane…is free, of course, to socialize with whomever she sees fit so long as it doesn't affect anyone's treatment adversely. Thank you for your time, candor, and perspective, sir."

"I'm glad to help Shane. She's helped me more than any therapist I've ever had. We clicked immediately. I knew she was somethin' special. But getting to know her over the last few weeks has shown me what true happiness could feel like…I'd forgotten that over in Iraq. She gave that back to me. I'd like to thank her properly."

"I think she'd like that too. Thank you, sir." Susan hung up the phone without letting them say goodbye to each other, but Shane was an utter mess, and unable to form coherent words right now, anyway.

"Wow." Susan exclaimed.

"Yeah." Shane sniffed into a tissue, dabbing her eyes and then blowing her nose loudly, and unapologetically.

"Did he say he spent the whole night reading our policies?" Susan asked, not sure she heard him right.

"That's what I understood." Shane was somehow not surprised.

"Did you tell him to do that?"

"I didn't even know the policies were online, nor did I know you'd pull him in to our meeting…I didn't even know we were having one until twenty minutes ago."

"Right…fair. Sorry, I'm still…off-put by all of that." She had been beaten…and it wasn't familiar or comfortable.

"So, are we finished here?" Shane inquired, tentative about the state of mind her boss was in.

"Yes, go on and take the rest of the hour for continuing ed or whatever." She was normally much more composed…Sy had really gotten to her. She loved it.

Shane hurried back to her treatment room. She had to call him.

"Hello?" that same gravelly voice now confused as he'd just hung up with her, basically.

"May I speak to the great hero Captain Syverson, please?"

"Sunshine. How ya doin'?"

"Did you really stay up all night last night to read our entire employee manual?"

"I wanted the straight up, true life details about this policy that could mess up my future."

"I think you broke my boss's brain. She was still stewing when I left. She thought I told you where to find all that and what not. I didn't even know you could find it online. Plus, I didn't know we'd be meeting or that she'd drag you into a personnel matter. She's the worst. And you're literally my hero for beating her down like you did."

"Hey, ya know, she started it. I just finished it."

"You sure did. And how!"

"So…since we're all legal now…"

"Is the magic gone since it's not forbidden?" she laughed.

"Oh, I was gonna say, yeah, I think this may be a mistake. Sorry."

They both giggled.

"I'm free after work on Friday." she suggested.

"Not anymore, you're not. Bring some nice clothes and change when you're done. I'll pick you up after. Just text me when you're about ready?"

"You haven't given me your number, Sy."

"It's in my chart, dork."

"You have to officially give it to me."

"Oh I'll give it to ya, baby." He'd dug deep into the bass part of his register for that one.

"Syyyyy." she groaned.

"Oh, you already know I like it when you say my name."

"I'm being serious right now, what's your damn number or the date is off." She bluffed.

"Not because I believe that idle threat, but because I wanna…give it to ya." he rattled off the number.

"Okay, I'll be texting you with mine. Now, I have work today, so if you text me and don't get an immediate response, you know that's why."

"I'm not your only patient? I'm hurt, Shane."

"I know, that's why you've been coming to therapy for weeks."

"Har-Har, good thing I'm not into you for your sense of humor."

"Good thing I'm not into you for your looks, since 80% of your face is obscured by hair."

"We could go all day like this."

"The stamina." she teased.

"Well, look who joined the game!" he sounded almost proud.

"Don't think I haven't been participating silently for…a while."

"How long?" he inquired

"Isn't that my line?" she laughed at the penis joke she'd just made.

"You'll find out soon enough, and you won't be laughing. How long?"

"Well, you remember your evaluation."

"I do."

"Yeah…then." she bleated, too shy to say so with pride.

"No way! You mean you've liked me all this time too! And haven't said shit!?"

"I had to be professional, Sy! I didn't want to! Damn! You've gotta know how much I didn't want to be professional."

"I'll forgive ya, I guess, lil' lady."

"Merciful of you, sir!" she chuckled. "I'll need to go here soon. Won't be long now until my next one gets here."

"Tease me with a 'sir' then cut me off. Cruel."

"You like 'sir,' huh?" she whispered.

"I do. Yes…I…do."

"Noted. Well, until tomorrow."

"Don't forget to text me. I want you to give it to me too." he chuckled.

"Oh, you're bad."

"But, I'm real, real good sunshine." The deep rich promise in his voice did not go unnoticed.

"Bye Sy."

"Later Shane."

She hung up and texted him immediately. A selfie. He replied in kind. He seemed to be home on his couch, Aika by his side…he was not wearing a shirt…well…this day would be eternal.

Up Next: Chapter Five- Sensory Integration 1

#netflix sand castle #sand castle #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x ofc #captain syverson #captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson x ofc

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