#the line looped around itself 3 times and went all the way around the building | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

papercupids · 3 years

Text

past the happily ever after - wong kunhang

pairing - wong kunhang x reader

genre - post breakup!au; angst; music producer! hendery;

summary - bumping into your ex reopens some unhealed wounds.

word count - 2k

warnings - none that i could point out

as you waited for the employee to wash his hands and get back to you to take your order, you glance around the shop a little more, quaint little wooden tables are lined up messily and on top of them, matching brown stands which are home to almost 5 spoons, forks and knives respectively per table. The sunlight coming in abundance right in to illuminate every nook and cranny of the corner cafe.

It’s not too crowded here, maybe because 3:00 pm is not exactly the definition of a rush hour.

the bells of the coffee shop rang and scanning the whole room, just to feed your curiosity more, you turned back. And when you do, you really wish you hadn’t, because just in the span of a mere second, your heart is ripped out of the place its caged in between your lungs because all of the time you’ve spent thinking about this moment did not prepare you for when it’s really happening. You turn back quickly, after freezing in your place when you first see him, and you’re scared that anyone who looks at you right now, including him, can see right through you and feel the trembling in your knees. But more than fear and awkwardness it was a simple debate of feelings of love and hate both that made you freeze right now.

Countless accusations, numerous insults, you had so many questions for him, so many secrets to spill, it had come to an extent where you would imagine him sitting next to you jst to calm your overwhelmedness.

But you had later come to a conclusion. If your love meant nothing to him, neither will your hate.

And hendery was just as shook as he spotted you and your face registered itself into his brain.

the smell of pancakes, the small noise of it crackling on the pan, the sun pouring in just like in the cafe, but a little dimmer, the morning version of it. from the small windows of your apartment, soft music playing at a low volume and you’re humming along to it.

“y/n,” he calls out and that’s your cue to know he’s already up and you flip the pancake and walk over to him still lying in bed, adoring the rising sun from his position on the bed.

“Why did you wake up so early?” He mumbles groggily. “It’s your holiday today, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” you make your way back to the kitchen, “i just had a craving,” the pancake is perfectly golden when you take it out and place the batter for the next one.

A few moments later you hear the shuffling of feet before a pair of arms wrap around your waist and a face nuzzles itself in your neck.

“goodmorning, dery.”

“Mmh,” he inhales your scent as if it was the very oxygen he breathes, and when he does exhale it tingles on your neck.

Turning off the stove, you turn to him and catch his lips in a slow and chaste ‘good morning, honey’ and ‘i want this forever’ kiss.

“Hey, y/n,” hendery currently has his hands in his pockets and you can hear the awkwardness in his voice, someone who was ever so frank and comfortable with you. You can swear this guy grows more beautiful each time you see him. The last was almost a fat six months later after you broke up with him, on an instagram story of a mutual friend of you both. You muted his story after that and it took you two weeks to stop listening to taylor swift after that. And now, it’s two years later but you still love this man as much as you did the first time you ever said it to him.

“hendery, hey, didn’t expect to run into you,” you pray that he can’t feel the beating of your heart which in your opinion is vibrating enough for your body to shake visibly.

“Yeah, me neither, how are you though? Long time no see,”

“Yeeah, i’m fine, just a little over the place.”

“Oh, well.”

The employee behind you both could literally feel the tension between you both from where he was standing. Either way, he needed to get over both of your orders before any one of you messed it up and made the other leave. It could strongly affect the revenue of this small cafe.

“Miss, what would you like to order?” He calls out to you, causing you to turn.

“Oh, yeah. A caramel macchiato, please.”

“And, you, sir?”

“I’ll have an Americano, thanks.”

“So it’s a combined order?”

And the next few seconds is just you and hendery awkwardly communicating through your eyes asking if the other’s okay with having coffee together and strangely enough even against your best interests, you both are.

“Okay, i’ll have it on your table in a few,” and the man disappears behind the curtain, quite proud of himself. If this one couple made it together, if they were broken up right now, their kids would hear of this cafe. He giggled and went on with his work.

As for you, it was not at all like the time you had once imagined in the shower how meeting hendery would be like. There were no slaps, no “fuck you’s” and absolutely no drama unlike how you imagined it in the shower.

You sat opposite on one of the round tables, besides the glass panel.

“So how have you been?”

“Oh, good. Just finished an album I was working on, a week ago. And damn, I'm tired.”

“Oh,”

the music blasted through your ear and you hit the lower volume button as you rolled your eyes at hendery, if he continued to keep the volume this much, he’d end up losing his hearing, for sure. You try to tell him that, which comes across more as a shout than a normal tone to him because of your inability to listen to your own voice above the song. He nods carelessly, he’s just concentrated on your expressions as you listen to the track.

but it's just the way it was, life wasn’t always a happy ending, it was rough without any mercy. and you weren’t a fictional character, neither was this a fairytale.

You’re in his lab today, chocolate wrappers, guitar, papers here and there, the nightlife hours starting outside. And you are both sitting opposite each other, you’re sitting on hendery’s usual seat, a comfortable huge chair you loved to dominate whenever you’d drop by here and he’s sitting on a random stool that was lying outside, not complaining a bit.

“So, um,” you remove the headphones a few minutes later. And hendery listens in rapt attention, something you wished he did when you asked him to choose which dress he liked better on you,

“I hate to tell you this, hendery,” his expressions tighten as he tenses his jaw, “but, babe, you’ve nailed it this time around too!!!” You scream and envelope him in a hug.

And poor hendery is still shocked, but he hugs back as it soaks in his mind.

“This song is gonna be the shit people hear on loops, hendery, loops! This is a bop,” he pulls away.

“You really think so?” You nod your head.

He hugs you again, more tightly, “i love you,”

“So,” he drums his finger on the table after a long few minutes of awkward silence. The order still hasn't come. And you both have been looking at the other tables, there weren’t many people here.

“How’s life been for you, aside from your profession?” he asks.

“I don’t think I quite gave it much time, don’t regret it though, what about you?” your profession, for you, had been something of a coping mechanism in the past few years, it had been something you had given your everything to, and strangely enough it hadn’t packed up its bags one day and said, ‘we aren’t working anymore,’ and left.

“Oh yeah, no, i did try to make it work with someone, it’s going good for now.”

The last nail in your coffin. It takes up your entire energy to not flip the table over him and run away from not only the city, but the country and never leave a chance to ever bump into him again, because you see you did try to forget him.

But it never happened. It was just automatically that your hand reached over to the other pillow in your bed to ruffle hendery’s hair to wake him up to only be met with the cold side of the bed, and to take out two cups of ramen, only to quickly keep it back inside and to pretend it never happened.

“That’s nice,”

And thankfully, the cafe guy is coming over with your drinks.

And you sip on your macchiato as it gets awkward again. You can’t bear to look him in the eyes, no. It just cracks your very soul and you suddenly get annoyed with the fact that if he wanted he would have kept the girlfriend thing to himself, but he had to put it all in your face.

But your thoughts wander furthermore after this, does she get to listen to his songs firsthand? Does she get to eat the food he makes? gets to ruffle his hair first thing in the morning? gets to wrap her arms around him and feel his heartbeat?

hendery slammed his hands on the steering wheel. He had fucked up. Big time. Plus the traffic wasn’t budging. He rested his head in his hands. The cars honked occasionally and the city lights hurt his eyes, an upbeat song was playing over the radio in a low volume and the car was warmer than the outside.

This was the third time in a row he’s done this. And he could feel the guilt build up in him, he wasn’t worried about your reaction to this.

You’d kiss him, tell him to not worry about it and go to sleep as it was probably late and he would be tired.

He was scared that this was gonna keep happening and he’s gonna wake up without you instead of you sobbing softly out in the living room. He was afraid he had messed you up too much. And what for?

The traffic clears as he presses the accelerator and lets go as fast as he can.

And back home you’re not disappointed, you’re just tired. You weren’t upset that hendery hadn’t showed up, but he hadn’t even texted you, surely it would take just a second.

But it was okay, he had work. It was important. You sighed as you slipped into your pyjamas and moved to the sofa to watch something.

And you hear the key turning then, signalling hendery was home, you stand up to greet him and as soon as he’s visible, a sympathetic look is plastered on his face.

“I’m sorry….” you hug him before he can complete and he hugs back with equal force.

“‘S alright, hendery, it’s fine.” And you rub his back.

And suddenly you hear a sobbing sound from him. A long and choked up noise and you pull away to get a good look on his face.

“dery?” You cup his face, “what’s wrong, honey?”

“Oh, babe, i’m not going anywhere.” You crawl close to him and wrap your arms around him. “I’m gonna be right here hendery, and things like these happen all the time, but that doesn’t change the fact that i love you, okay? I’m gonna stay. I’m gonna be with you as long as you want me to.”

“I messed up, I mess up all the time, why are you even here?” He’s sitting down now, crying in his hands.

He nods as his sniffles fade away slowly and you’re both just sitting on the floor, holding each other, knowing no one’s gonna go away.

“And, um, y/n, i have to tell you something.” He finally speaks up. His body language tells you it’s been what he’s wanting to tell you since you met at the counter and you nod at him to continue.

“I wanted to apologise.”

You almost spit your drink.

“Why?” Even though you know the answer, you want him to confess his sins. Confess the fact that he threw a forever away in a matter of a moment, that he didn’t listen to what you had to say.

“I’m sorry for what I did, I truly and genuinely loved you and I made a huge mistake. Everyday I think about what could’ve been if I didn’t do what I did.”

loved.

But that made the two of you if he thought about it. It was okay now, now that you met him, now that he apologised to you, know that you’ll say “it’s okay,” to him, piece by piece it’ll start to get better. You believed it.

You’ll still love wong kunhang, but a little less maybe.

the silence in your home is biting. You can hear the low whirring of the air conditioner and the tick tocking of the clock. The text bell breaks the silence though, for a second, but it does.

“Coming home, give me 5 minutes.”

hendery wasn’t late. He just hadn’t came home for the entirety of last week. He has to work on this new album, he’d said to you when you called him this morning. Normally he had told you not to call him when he was working since it broke his link of working but it was out of hand now.

And he told you he’d come home today and talk.

You sighed as the lock clicked, and he closed the door behind him.

He throws a small smile at you, “y/n,” and he knows this is going to be hard when you don’t return it.

He sits beside you as you try your best to not let the tears fall, “what?”

“I’m sorry but this isn’t the way i want to see you, i want you to be happy-“

“Well, then damn, dery, keep me happy!”

“Will you let me complete?” You glare at him as you blink more to keep the tears at bay.

“Look, I realised that i want to see you happy, but i’m just simply, i can’t. So,” he takes your hand and grazes it with his own.

“So, i’m letting you go, y/n,”

“What the actual fuck ‘letting me go’?” Now there's no meaning in trying to keep the tears hidden, they come as fast as you stop trying to hide them.

“The thing is hendery, if you would’ve been sorry right now, i would have honestly had no problems in being here again and to end up in this same situation, i would go through it all again, but the fact that you just want back away is so disgusting,”

“Sorry would have meant that i would no longer do it again, y/n, and you know my work, I can’t keep promises,”

“So that’s it? We’re finishing this conversation and you’re taking out all the shirts from our wardrobe?”

His silence is a reply enough, and you can’t do anything but sit there as quietly as you shushing yourself and hoping this was someone else in min hendery's body and that tomorrow you’d wake up to him apologising and explaining how his body got swapped with someone else.

But it never did happen

“It’s okay, hendery. You did what was best for both of us,” you take a sip from your drink. “I couldn’t see it then, but I do see it now,”

“You do?” He raises his eyebrows,

“Yes,” you nod gently.

And his phone rings. “Excuse me, i gotta take this,”

And he’s barely a few steps away from the table when he receives the call and says, “yes, babe, i’m coming i just met an old friend.”

And you smile. It was okay. You’ll probably cry yourself to sleep tonight but tomorrow will be better, and you will be better again.

168 notes · View notes

lubdubsworld · 3 years

Text

Change of Heart

Pairing : Taehyung x OC

[ Summary :

Times are changing.

After years of being oppressed, werewolves are taking a stand against humans , demanding equal rights and fair treatment. Heading the movement is Kim Taehyung, the breathtaking heir to the Kim fortune and one of the few remaining Alpha werewolves in the country. His disdain for the human race is well known and well warranted. They killed his family after all…..

He wants to change the world , to put humans in their place but when his five year old daughter takes a shine to their very human neighbor , maybe he has to start with a change of heart , first. ]

Pairing : Taehyung x OC

Genre : Romance, Explicit Content.

Warnings : None. ( Some mild violence but mostly off screen )

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3

Chapter 4

The Preserve had originally been an isolated island about 50 miles off the coast of the mainland. Over the decades, the land had been expanded with man made floats serving to support the extra buildings and complexes that cropped up to cater to the small human population that stuck around to help out.

The wolves still kept to the interiors, most of them having built huge cottage-villas which could house the entire pack, territories marked out clearly to avoid disputes. A few of the very traditional ones lived on the huge mountains that lined the northern end, opting to stay in their wolf-forms most of the time.

The island itself was beautiful, rich vegetation , a thriving fauna and a landscape that was lined with beautifully stark cliffs up high and private little coves and beaches scattered below.

Taehyung and his daughter lived on a beautiful beach side villa, which had its own vegetable garden , a staff of over 8 to take care of everything, a private jetty for trips to the mainland and a helipad/ airstrip.

True to his word, Taehyung did not stay around most days. He was busy with his campaign and I spent the first week recovering. The doctor visited everyday and by the end of the week, most of the internal injuries were healing well, the pain well managed with meds.

Luna had moved into my room, pretty much and I spent the days with her curled into my side, reading from her favorite books, stopping when she encountered a particularly difficult word, ebony eyes turning to mine for help. We read countless books, and she introduced me to all her best friends : Mr. Ted the bear, Kihyun the bunny and Momo the panda. The stuffed animals had a small baby carrier of their own and she liked carting them all around the house.

“She was really pretty. Mama....” Luna whispered one night, as we lay curled on the window seat in my room, a fur throw covering us up as we stared out into the rocky beach far below.

I felt my heart lurch in shared grief.

“Was she? What else do you remember about her....?” I asked softly.

“Her scent. “ Luna said quickly. “ She smelled just like you. Like home and fresh cookies with sugar sprinkles. And rainy puddles you can jump in.”

I bit my lips, mindful that Luna was just listing her favorite things. I didn’t know much about how weres scented other weres or humans. But i supposed it made sense that her mother’s scent should remind her of things that offered her comfort and joy.

But her next words threw me for a loop.

“Daddy didn’t like her much....” She said suddenly and I felt my throat close up .

“Oh-Oh?” I was genuinely shocked. Taehyung had looked devastated when he had told me about his wife’s passing....

Luna shook her head.

“My friend from school, Mina? Her mommy’s still alive and her daddy likes her. They kiss and stay in the same room. Mommy and Daddy never kissed. Mommy lived on the east wing.... That’s on the other side. Near the rose gardens.”

I bit my lips, feeling incredibly guilty for some reason. This information felt somehow private and not for stranger’s ears. I didn’t want Luna to get into trouble for saying this to me .

“I miss her sometimes. I’m glad you’re here.” She sniffled and i felt my heart crack in two. The girl was replacing her mom with me, I thought miserably. I couldn’t in good conscience let this happen.

But as the days stretched into weeks, with Taehyung out and busy most of the time, i couldn’t bring myself to leave. Luna did appear to be calmer, more grounded and happier with me around. She liked staying close to me, at touching distance and she often buried her nose into my neck, sniffing till I had to gently pry her off.

Although, absent physically, Taehyung called every day. He facetimed his daughter twice at least and I got a call every night at exactly nine. It was usually curt and formal but he did tell me what he was upto.

“The elections are coming up soon.... I need to work a bit more on the immediate reforms we’re planning to launch...I won’t be available this week, Luna’s keeping well?”

“Yes, she is. We made a modern recreation of red riding hood and the wolf today with play dough.”

Silence.

“Interesting choice of fairy tale, Mi Rae ssi...” He drawled.

I flushed at how my name sounded in that voice.

“It’s a bit different plot wise. In this case, the granny is just a meanie who likes to order Red about and the wolf is the one who rescues her.” I grinned.

He chuckled amicably.

“Bit of a stretch , that. But I’m glad you’re happy. I didn’t want to pressure you too much and i know its asking way too much of you . But Ms. Lee says that Luna is happier than she’s ever been and I do believe you’re the one I have to thank for that. “

I bit my lips. I wanted to tell him that Luna was getting way too attached. That I was afraid of what would happen when it was time for me to leave, but already i could hear voices in the background, people calling for his attention and I remembered that he was doing something important.

He was trying to build a better world for his little girl.

In the long run, all of this would be for Luna’s benefit only.

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

it had been nearly a month since I’d last seen Taehyung . A whole three months since I’d moved into his villa. My paycheck as a nanny was three times what I was paid as a lab tech. But I hadn’t stopped working at the research facility either. I spent the days there, when Luna was busy with her school work . The vaccine had been successful but somehow, my father’s company had pulled some sort of nonsense with the patenting and not everyone had got the shorts.

I stared out into the murky blue waters as they crashed into the jagged black rocks that lined the private beach. The huge bay windows in the living space offered an unfettered view of the rocky beach.

Next to me, Luna was pretty much bouncing around, trying to find all her beach day toys. I watched her fondly, feeling something squeeze my heart when I thought about not seeing her again. The elections were done, the results were due any day now and Taehyung had already told me that he was looking to end this arrangement soon.

Luna had a mind like no other. A vibrantly curious child with the most incredible questions, it was clear that she adored her father more than anything else in the world. In the evenings, she liked to play near the small water inlet that fed into the Ocean. The water was shallow, barely an inch or so deep, the terrain covered in small smooth pebbles in every shade of brown of grey.

Luna and I spent most of the weekends exploring the small beach around the villa, foraging around in the coves while her caregiver watched me covertly from a distance. She clearly didn’t trust me much, but I tried not to let it get to me.

I wasn’t here to stay. Taehyung had sent me a mail the previous week, letting me know that I was no longer had to babysit, because he was planning to move to Seoul himself. He would be renting out a condominium there and hiring a full time nanny.

And that was fine. it wasn’t like i hadn’t seen that coming. I had a life of my own and i had to get back to it. My cottage near the research facility was fixed now and I was looking forward to getting back to my life, no matter how much it hurt to leave Luna behind.

I was a little upset that he had sent an impersonal mail to me instead of talking to me in person. Or maybe spoken about it over the phone at least. But I knew that he was just trying to make it easier for me to cut all ties.

Okay, fine, maybe I was a little bit bitter that Taehyung hadn’t even offered to hire me to take care of Luna . I wasn’t qualified , yes, but so far Luna had been a dream to stay with. She was so inquisitive and bright, so full of sunshine and happiness.

After three months of her unconditional love for me, the idea of not coming home to her vibrant laugh and endless giggles, it just felt so painful.

“Rae Rae, let’s gooooo....” Her voice broke me out of my thoughts . Despite endless protests from Ms. Lee, Luna insisted on calling me Rae Rae and I found it adorable.

I jumped a little, hastily moving to grab the sunscreen, the hat and gloves. While Luna did heal quickly courtesy her wolf-y genes, she was also incredibly prone to sunburn. The first few times, she had promptly shifted into her wolf form when i tried to put it on her, snipping my fingers angrily. The chemical was supposed to be unscented but her sensitive nose had clearly picked it up anyway.

It took a lot of bribing with delicious meat patties and steak bites, for the girl to shift back and let me apply it on her.

But now she was comfortable with letting me apply it on her when we went to the beach.

She picked up her backpack, a baby blue fur lined affair with twin bunny ears near the handle , and the small tote bag full of her collection of seashells and skipped out of the room happily. I finished packing the rest of her beach stuff : towels, napkins, hair pins and a change of clothes just in case.

We were just climbing down the huge stairwell, when Taehyung’s voice rang through the foyer, startling me badly. i hadn’t seen him in a long time and against my better judgement I almost half ran back to put some make up on at least. I probably looked like an ogre with smeared sunscreen and my hair uncombed and in a bun.

“Lu - Lu? Baby???” He called out, his deep voice pretty much reverberating off the walls .

“DAAAADAAAAAA”

I watched her almost tumble headlong the stairs in her rush to get into her father’s arms and I hung back, letting them have their reunion.

I waited till Taehyung called out for me, before moving to greet him as well.

The first thing that stuck me was how incredibly handsome he looked, hair now fully black, swept straight back from his forehead. He was dressed in skinny jeans and a loose black shirt, buttons undone to show the lines of his pecs and a pair of dangly earrings caught the light as he turned to stare at me.

“Mi Rae ssi....i see you’re all ready for Beach day?” He grinned softly.

There was something radiant about him, a definite lack of anxiety. He looked relaxed almost.

“You won?” i blurted out. “ You won didn’t you?”

Taehyung’s eyes glinted .

“Its not officially announced yet, but yes, the Commission called me today . They think I’ve won by a landslide.

Before I could rethink my impulse, I flung myself into his arms, genuinely thrilled beyond belief.

“RThat’s so incredible, Taehyung ssi...i’m so happy for you and-”

“Tae? Should I get the other suitcase?”

The female voice made me jolt, and I pulled away, arm still arapped around his neck, intensely aware of his hands on my waist.

Three feet away from us , stood an incredibly beautiful young woman. She was almost as tall as Tae, probably the same age as him and her eyes flashed red when she looked at me.

I flinched, stepping back like i’d been scalded.

“Just leave it sweetheart, one of my men will get it. Come meet my little girl.” Taehyung said casually, shooting me one brief intense look of.....anger? annoyance? I couldn’t figure it out.

Sweetheart? did he just call her-

Luna had shuffled to hide behind my legs now, her fingers gripping my waist as she refused to greet the newcomer.

“Luna, this is Ms Jihyun. She’s a very good friend of mine.”

Jihyun dropped to her knees, eyes flashing red again as she smiled a tight lipped smile.

“Hello, Luna. How are you doing?” She said seriously. Luna’s grip on me tightened.

“She’s a little shy.” I choked out, trying to tamp down the rising sense of heartbreak. No. i had actively fought against feeling this way. Every night here, I had told myself that I would not think about Kim Taehyung. Admiring him for what he did , for how hard he worked for his kind....that was one thing ....but this. This was madness.

Taehyung reached out around me to lift Luna up into her arms.

“How about we go to the beach with Jihyun and Ms Lee today?” He said casually, holding his hand out to me.

I almost did something stupid, like press my hand into his before realizing that he was asking for the bag i had over my shoulders. Wordlessly, I handed it over.

“I want to go with Rae Rae....” Luna said sharply, lips jutting out in a petulant little pout.

“Well, Appa and Ms. Rae need to talk about something and once we’re done, I’ll join you there okay?” He ruffled her hair softly and then gently placed her back down.

Luna gave me an imploring look.

“Are you leaving me?” Her lips wobbled.

I shook my head instinctively.

“Of course not baby, I’ll be right there. Just a few minutes, okay? Don't forget your sunscreen.” I smiled and Luna pouted again but moved to Ms. Lee’s side hesitantly.

Taehyung waited till the three of them began leaving before turning to me.

“Thank you.” He said quietly , gaze moving to me with the same intensity, and this time I knew what he was doing. He was trying to gauge what I was thinking and I remembered, weakly that Alpha wolves could sometimes sense moods, changes in a person’s body temperatures and things like that. It wasn’t like mind reading or anything but a perceptive enough werewolf could definitely guess what kind of mood someone was in.

I fought to keep my face neutral. There wasn’t much I could do about how clammy and cold my entire body had gone after meeting Jihyun. It wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to guess why I didn’t l;ike Jihyun there.

“It’s not you.” He said gently.

I swallowed.

“Sorry?”

“You’re beautiful. If we were.... the same kind of people.....I wouldn’t be saying this. But because of who we are.... I’m going to say it. It’s not a good idea.” He whispered.

I flushed, feeling like my entire body had been dipped in ice cold water.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I said evenly.

He hummed.

“If you leave today, there’s a job waiting for you in the Research Center. It’s a level up from what you’re doing right now. I’ve asked them to put up extra security around your cabin and I’ve talked with the wolves here. No one will come anywhere near you. “

I nodded bleakly.

“Thank you.” I said quietly.

“You’re going to forget me and Luna in a few weeks. And I would rather that things end now, before Luna becomes more attached.”

I nodded.

“Can i talk to her before I leave?” I asked softly.

He hesitated.

“I don’t.... I mean, I would rather not have Jihyun be present for that. She’s.... well she’s someone I’m getting to know and she may feel -”

I wanted to kick myself in the face for ever having agreed to this whole thing.

“I understand. I’ll be back tomorrow morning to get the rest of my stuff and to say goodbye to Luna.” I said shortly.

Before he could reply, I brushed past him and ran up to my room. I had to get out of here as soon as I could.

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

Luna cried inconsolably and I was eternally grateful that no one else was there when I carefully unpacked the huge carton of snacks and toys , I’d packed for her. Taehyung had made things a little easier, by telling Luna that it wasn’t me who was leaving but it would be them. They were going to a new place so they would be leaving me behind because I had stuff to do here.

“I’m not going to be gone completely. I’m going to come visit you as often as I can alright and look....” I pulled out the small phone I’d brought her.

She stopped sniffling and held her hand out. I placed the flip phone in her hands.

“Theres just two numbers there. See the picture of the wolf? Thats daddy..... And see the one with the flower.....that’s me. If you want to talk to either of us, all you need to do is press this button.”

Luna hesitated.

“Daddy said, I can’t have any phones.” She said hesitantly. What a wonderful child, i thought fondly.

“Yes, but this isn’t the kind of phone that could hurt your eyes. It’s just a talking phone. Besides, your daddy already knows and he’s okay with it.” I smiled.

She nodded, turning the little device over and over in her hands.

“Daddy say’s we’re going to the city. Why don’t you want to come?” She said angrily and i sighed.

“Its not that I don’t want to come, baby. It’s just that my home is here. I help take care of the little pups here remember? Some of them get sick and I help make them better....” I smiled, ruffling her hair.

She nodded.

“Good girl...Now how about we go see the sandcastle you built yesterday...? See if it’s still there?”

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

Life went on and I found myself busy enough to not dwell on Taehyung too much. The vaccines were rolling out much faster now and most of the cases were milder . i spent the days in the research center and went home to my cozy cabin. Taehyung had been true to his word an an electric fence ran around the perimeter , twelve feet tall . A security guard stayed near the gate at all times, a beta werewolf named Minjun.

Two weeks after Taehyung had moved out of the island, a distraction arrived in the form of one Jeon Jungkook . He was a year younger than me and finishing his internship before becoming a radiologist. He was smart , handsome and an alpha wolf with a deceptively cute bunny like smile.

Jungkook liked following me around when we had free time and I found his incessant noona , noona...endearing. But I was also not an idiot.

Jungkook was looking for a fuck buddy and I was convenient. The only female in the research center. Werewolves didn’t do one night stands with each other, because being intimate always left a scent and it would make things messy. So weres generally went to humans for no strings attached sex.

It wasn’t that I minded , but a part of me was terrified i would do something stupid. Like call him Taehyung in the middle of us fucking.

But of course, stupid decisions were my forte.

So I did end up sleeping with him.

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

“Well, you look miserable.” Jimin commented mildly, as I stumbled forward to the counter. I hadn’t slept much the previous night and had nearly missed the ferry to the mainland in the morning.

“I’m fine oppa. Just frazzled. Give me something strong but sweet...” I begged, riffling through my bag for my wallet. Outside, the rain poured in torrents. I was still dripping water from my hair and my jacket, although I’d been out of the rain for a whole five minutes.

“Taehyung’s been asking about you....Why don’t you pick his calls?” Jimin said casually and I flinched.

“I did pick his calls. a couple of times....” I muttered .

That had been a whole experience. Taehyung had called me two weeks back, frothing at the mouth about something.

Apparently, Ji Hyun the lovely girlfriend that Kim Taehyung like flaunting all over town, was also the older sister on one Jeon Jungkook. And because we had had sex the previous night, Jungkook had smelled like me when he visited Taehyung and Ji hyun. Even Luna had picked up on the scent.

How on earth was i supposed to know?

Taehyung had been so furious that I’d hung up the phone midway through.

“And, what happened?”

I shrugged.

“And then I got busy. Why? I’ve been talking to Luna... I even met her a couple of times. It’s not like I have any other reason to talk to him.... “ I protested.

Jimin hummed.

“He’s still seeing that model. Jeon Ji hyun? I heard her brother works in the Research center?” Jimin raised an eyebrow, sliding my drink across the counter. I stepped out of the line but stayed near the counter, staring at him. Damn it. Had Taehyung actually told Jimin about it?

“Jungkook? Yeah. He’s a doctor... He’s doing his MD , radiology and he’s here for exposure , apparently...”

“Alpha?” Jimin continued flitting about, making orders but his tone held a note of sympathy.

I shrugged.

“Yeah, he is. But we don’t talk much. We went out one night but then he’s been aloof ever since.” I shrugged again hoping that Jimin was buying my nonchalant act. i still didn’t know how much he knew.

Jungkook was a nice guy and I was a little peeved that he didn’t seem to want anything more than a friends with benefits thing. But that had less to do with him and more to do with the fact that men, in general, never seemed to consider me as a potential girlfriend.

But then, the poor guy was in probably the most crucial part of his education. Relationships were probably the farthest thing from his mind.

Jimin stopped when the last customer in the line left. He stared at me.

“Taehyung told me Luna called you one morning and Jungkook picked the phone.”

I froze.

“What?!” I hissed, completely thrown. This, I hadn’t known.

“You went out? With Jungkook? And he stayed over , I’m guessing....I’m going to go out on a limb and say that you guys did not play Jenga all night?” He glared at me. I flushed.

“Fine. We slept together. We are sleeping together....its just consensual sex between two willing parties, . It’s no big deal.” I said flippantly.

“You don’t think that’s why Taehyung has been calling you? That’s his potential brother in law right there. It’s too messy. I think you should stop. ” He frowned.

I rolled my eyes.

“Listen it has nothing to do with me. I’m not going to marry Jungkook okay? I’m not going to be calling Taehyung my brother in law either. Its not going to happen. i just had this...stupid king of crush on him and he knew about it. He turned me down too, did he tell you that. He told me him and I were too different.... meaning I wasn’t a were so he wouldn’t consider being with someone like me. ”

Jimin groaned.

“you know why he feels that way. Don’t make this about you. It’s not personal.”

“Then why is it spilling into my personal life? I have no obligation to him. I can sleep with who I want.....”

Jimin rolled his eyes.

“Taehyung’s a were. He’s not going to see it that way.”

“Well, I don’t give a damn how he sees it, I’m having sex with a handsome young man who is attracted to me. That’s a good time, right there and I’m not going to stop having a good time just because it offends Taehyung’s delicate sensibilities.” I snapped.

Jimin shrugged.

“Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

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

When I went back to my cabin that evening, I found Minjun missing from his usual place near the gate. The gate was still locked so I didn’t think too much about it, merely slotting the rusty old key into the huge lock and prying it open.

I made my way to the door, opening it carefully.

i nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw who was there.

“what the- Seo Joon?” I said in disbelief, stumbling back when the tall alpha stumbled to his feet from where he was lounging on the couch.

“Well, look who’s here....if it isn’t the slutty little bitch who wants to sleep her way through every were on the island....First Taehyung and now Jungkook.....you sure know who to pick, huh.....? All powerful, influential wolves..... “ He slurred.

I stared at him. This wasn’t good. I turned on my heel, ready to run back out but he was faster than me. I groaned when he slammed into my back pinning me to the door with so much force that the wood splintered,.

While my bruised ribs had healed, they still hurt a bit. And the force of his actions left my mind reeling from the pain.

“Get off me!! “ I screamed, “ MINJUN!!!!! MINJUN HELP!!!”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU WHORING BITCH!!!”

He slapped me right across the face, the strength of it sending me crashing into the side table. I whimpered as I tried to get on my feet, fingers fumbling for my phone .

“it was you wasn’t it? I was supposed to be the deputy minister.... Taehyung’s supposed to be my fucking friend. instead i got fired like some lowly runt ...... It was you wasn’t it? you convinced him that humans are our fucking friends....”

I shook my head, frantic.

“No...i swear I’ve not spoken to Taehyung...i didn’t say anything... Seo Joon please don’t...” I screamed when he reached down and grabbed my hair, yanking me to my feet till my scalp felt like it was on fire.

“Maybe I should fuck you too....since that's the thing people seem to be doing these days....Its because of your father isn’t it? That bastard has been all over the news, talking these past few weeks about how his precious daughter is doing a lot of work for the welfare of wolves....Maybe I should fuck his daughter too.... ” He began, reaching for my blouse.

I barely registered the nonsense about my father before a loud sound broke through the din.

The door swung open and the sound of gunfire made me scream.

I stared at the door only to see the security guard staring at us with wide eyes.

Minjun , panicked and completely overwhelmed , had blindly opened fire on both of us.

I felt the touch of the bullet to my shoulder, before the blinding explosion of pain.

But he seemed to have hit Seo Joon as well, enough times for the were to let go of me and I crashed to floor, clutching my shoulder in agony.

The sound of gunfire had attracted more people and through the throng I heard Jungkook’s voice.

“Noona.... Mirae noona is that you----???”

“Kookie!!” I croaked out desperately. Jungkook’s eyes went wide when he saw, me, pushing his way past the other wolves before letting out a snarl. The sound seemed to make the others cower and I remembered that he was an alpha too.

I gripped his arms when he reached me.

“Don’t tell Taehyung...” I gasped out, still clutching my shoulder.

“God, what the fuck.... We need to get you out of here...” He was already dialing for the ambulance. I waited for him to finish, gasping from the pain. Fuck, it hurt like hell.

“We’re going to get you to the research center first.” Jungkook said frantically.

I nodded, stumbling to my feet when he tried to lift me up.

“It’s okay...just...get me something to …” But he was already peeling off his shirt, wadding up to press against the bleeding bullet hole .

“Hyung is going to kill Seo Joon.” He said grimly.

For once, I didn’t particularly care.

My mind raced because I hadn’t thought about my father in years.

What did that tyrant want with me now??

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

Author’s Note : Me trying to finish all my fics and not lose my mind in the process :’(

#taehyung #taehyung fics #taehyung sm #taehyung fanfic #bts smut #bts fics #taehyung smut #taehyung au #taehyung x y/n #bts x oc #bts werewolf au #taehyung werewolf au

250 notes · View notes

felassan · 4 years

Text

Insights into DAI’s development from Blood, Sweat, and Pixels

The book is by game industry journalist Jason Schreier (it’s an interesting read and well-written, I recommend it). This is the cliff notes version of the DAI chapter. This info isn’t new as the book is from 2017 (I finally got around to buying it). Some insight into DAO, DA2 and cancelled DA projects is also given. Cut for length.

BW hoped that DA would become the LotR of video games. DAO’s development was “a hellish seven-year slog”

The DAI team are compared to a chaotic “pirate ship”, which is what they called themselves internally. “It’ll get where it needs to go, but it’s going to go all over the place. Sail over here. Drink some rum. Go over here. Do something else. That’s how Mark Darrah likes to run his team.” An alternative take from someone else who worked on the game: “It was compared to a pirate ship because it was chaotic and the loudest voice in the room usually set the direction. I think they smartly adopted the name and morphed it into something better.”

A game about the Inquisition and the large-scale political conflicts it solves across Thedas, where the PC was the Inquisitor, was originally the vision for ‘DA2′. Plans had to change when SW:TOR’s development kept stalling and slipping. Frustrated EA execs wanted a new product from BW to bolster quarterly sales targets, and decided that DA would have to fill the gap. BW agreed to deliver DA2 within 16 months. “Basically, DA2 exists to fill that hole. That was the inception. It was always intended to be a game made to fit in that”

BW wanted to call it DA: Exodus, but EA’s marketing execs insisted on DA2, no matter what that name implied

DAO’s scope (Origin stories, that amount of big areas, variables, reactivity) was just not doable in a year, even if everyone worked overtime. To solve this problem, BW shelved the Inquisition idea and made a risky call: DA2 would be set in one city over time, allowing locations to be recycled and months to be shaved off dev time. They also axed DAO features like customizing party members’ equipment. These were the best calls they were able to make on a tight line

Many at BW are still proud of DA2. Those that worked on it grew closer from all being in it together

In certain dark accounting corners of EA, despite fan response to DA2 and its lower sales compared to DAO, DA2 is considered a wild success

By summer 2011 BW decided to cancel DA2′s expansion Exalted March in favor of a totally new game. They needed to get away from the stigma of DA2, reboot the franchise and show they could make triple-A quality good games.

DAI was going to be the most ambitious game BW had ever made and had a lot to prove (that BW could return to form, that EA wasn’t crippling the studio, that BW could make an ‘open-world’ RPG with big environments). There was a bit of a tone around the industry that there were essentially 2 tiers of BW, the ME team and then everyone else, and the DA team had a scrappy desire to fight back against that

DAI was behind schedule early on due to unfamiliar new technology; the new engine Frostbite was very technically challenging and required more work than anyone had expected. Even before finishing DA2 BW were looking for a new engine for the next game. Eclipse was creaky, obsolete, not fully-featured, graphically lacking. The ME team used Unreal, which made inter-team collab difficult. “Our tech strategy was just a mess. Every time we’d start a new game, people would say, ‘Oh, we should just pick a new engine’.”

After meeting with an EA exec BW decided on Frostbite. Nobody had ever used it to make an RPG, but EA owned FB dev studio DICE, and the engine was powerful and had good graphic capabilities & visual effects. If BW started making all its games on FB, it could share tech with sister studios and borrow tools when they learned cool new tricks.

For a while they worked on a prototype called Blackfoot, to get a feel for FB and to make a free-to-play DA MP game. It fizzled as the team was too small, which doesn’t lend itself well to working with FB, and was cancelled

BW resurfaced the old Inquisition idea. What might a DA3 look like on FB? Their plan by 2012 was to make an open-world RPG heavily inspired by Skyrim that hit all the beats DA2 couldn’t. “My secret mission was to shock and awe the players with the massive amounts of content.” People complained there wasn’t enough in DA2. “At the end of DAI, I actually want people to go, ‘Oh god, not [another] level’.”

It was originally called Dragon Age 3: Inquisition

BW wanted to launch on next-gen consoles only but EA’s profit forecasters were caught up in the rise of iPad and iPhone gaming and were worried the next-gen consoles wouldn’t sell well. As a safeguard EA insist it also ship on current-gen. Most games at that time followed this strategy. Shipping on 5 platforms at once would be a first for BW

Ambitions were piling up. This was to be BW’s first 3D open-world game, and their first game on Frostbite, an engine that had never been used to make RPGs. It needed to be made in roughly two years, it needed to ship on 5 platforms, and, oh yeah, it needed to restore the reputation of a studio that had been beaten up pretty badly. “Basically we had to do new consoles, a new engine, new gameplay, build the hugest game that we’ve ever made, and build it to a higher standard than we ever did. With tools that don’t exist.”

FB didn’t have RPG stats, a visible PC, spells, save systems, a party of 4 people, the same kind of cutscenes etc and couldn’t create any of those things. BW had to create these on top of it. BW initially underestimated how much work this would be. BW were the FB guinea pigs. Early on in DAI’s development, even the most basic tasks were excruciating, and this impacted even fundamental aspects of game design and dev. When FB’s tools did function they were finicky and difficult. DICE’s team supported them but had limited resources and were 8 hours ahead. Since creating new content in FB was so difficult, trying to evaluate its quality became impossible. FB engine updates made things even more challenging. After every one, BW had to manually merge and test it; this was debilitating, and there were times when the build didn’t work for a month or was really unstable.

Meanwhile the art department were having a blast. FB was great for big beautiful environments. For months they made as much as possible, taking educated guesses when they didn’t know yet what the designers needed. “For a long time there was a joke on the project that we’d made a fantastic-looking screenshot generator, because you could walk around these levels with nothing to do. You could take great pictures.”

The concept of DAI as open-world was stymying the story/writers and gameplay/designers teams. What were players going to do in these big landscapes? How could BW ensure exploring remained fun after many hours? Their teams didn’t have time for system designers to envision, iterate and test a good “core gameplay loop” (quests, encounters, activities etc). FB wouldn’t allow it. Designers couldn’t test new ideas or answer questions because basic features were missing or didn’t exist yet.

EA’s CEO told BW they should have the ability to ride dragons and that this would make DAI sell 10 million copies. BW didn’t take this idea very seriously

BW had an abstract idea that the player would roam the world solving problems and building up power or influence they could use. But how would that look/work like in-game? This could have used refinement and testing but instead they decided to build some levels and hope they could figure it out as they went.

One day in late 2012, after a year of strained development on DAI, Mark Darrah asked Mike Laidlaw to go to lunch. “We’re walking out to his car,” Laidlaw said, “and I think he might have had a bit of a script in his head. [Darrah] said, ‘All right, I don’t actually know how to approach this, so I’m just going to say it. On a scale of one to apocalyptic... how upset would you be if I said [the player] could be, I dunno, a Qunari Inquisitor?’”

Laidlaw was baffled. They’d decided that the player could be only a human in DAI. Adding other playable races like Darrah was asking for would mean they’d need to quadruple their budget for animation, voice acting, and scripting.

“I went, ‘I think we could make that work’,” Laidlaw said, asking Darrah if he could have more budget for dialogue.

Darrah answered that if Laidlaw could make playable races happen, he couldn’t just have more dialogue. He could have an entire year of production.

Laidlaw was thrilled. “Fuck yeah, OK,” he recalled saying.

MD had actually already realized at this point it’d be impossible to finish DAI in 2013. They needed at least a year’s delay and adding the other playable races was part of a plan/planned pitch to secure this. He was in the process of putting together a pitch to EA: let BW delay the game, and in exchange it’d be bigger and better that anyone at EA had envisioned. These new marketing points included playable races, mounts and a new tactical camera. If EA wouldn’t let them delay, they would have had to cut things. Going into that BW were confident but nervous, especially in the wake of EA’s recent turmoil where they’d just parted ways with their CEO and had recruited a new board member while they hunted for a new one. They didn’t know how the new board member would react, and the delay would affect EA’s projections for that fiscal year. Maybe it was the convincing pitch, or the exec turmoil, or the specter of DA2, or maybe EA didn’t like being called “The Worst Company in America”. Winning that award 2 years in a row had had a tangible impact on the execs and led to feisty internal meetings on how to repair EA’s image. Whatever the reasons, EA greenlit the delay.

The PAX Crestwood demo was beautiful but almost entirely fake. By fall 2013, BW had implemented many of FB’s ‘parts’, but still didn’t know what kind of ‘car’ they were making. ML and team scripted the PAX demo by hand, entirely based on what BW thought would be in the game. The level & art assets were real but the gameplay wasn’t. “Part of what we had to do is go out early and try to be transparent because of DA2. And just say, ‘Look, here, it’s the game, it’s running live, it’s at PAX.’ Because we wanted to make that statement that we’re here for fans.”

DA2 hung on the team like a shadow. There was insecurity, uncertainty, they had trouble sticking to one vision. Which DA2 things were due to the short dev time and which were bad calls? What stuff should they reinvent? There were debates over combat (DAO-style vs DA2-style) and arguments over how to populate the wilderness.

In the months after that demo, BW cut much of what they’d shown in it. Even small features went through many permutations. DAI had no proper preproduction phase (important for testing and discarding things), so leads were stretched thin and had to make impulsive decisions.

By the end of 2013, DAI had 200+ people working on it, and dozens of additional outsourced artists in Russia and China. Coordinating all the work across various departments was challenging and a full-time job for several people. At this sheer scale of game dev, there are many complexities and inter-dependencies. Work finally became significantly less tedious and more doable when BW and DICE added more features to FB. Time was running out though, and another delay was a no.

The team spent many hours in November and December piecing together a “narrative playable” version of the game to be the holiday period’s game build for BW staff to test that year. Feedback on the demo was bad. There were big complaints on story, that it didn’t make sense and was illogical. Originally the PC became Inquisitor and sealed the breach in the prologue, which removed a sense of urgency. In response the writers embarked on Operation Sledgehammer (breaking a bone to set it right), radically revising the entire first act.

The other big piece of negative feedback was that battles weren’t fun. Daniel Kading, who had recently joined BW and brought with him a rigorous new method for testing combat in games, went to BW leadership with a proposal: give him authority to open his own little lab with the other designers and call up the entire team for mandatory play sessions for test purposes. They agreed and he used this experiment to get test feedback and specifically pinpoint where problems were. Morale took a turn for the better that week, DK’s team made several tweaks, and through these sessions feedback ratings went from 1.2 to 8.8 four weeks later.

Many on the team wished they didn’t have to ship for old consoles (clunky, less powerful). BW leadership decided not to add features to the next-gen versions that wouldn’t be possible on the older ones, so that both versions of the game played the same. This limited things and meant the team had to find creative solutions. “I probably should’ve tried harder to kill [the last-gen] version of the game”, said Aaryn Flynn. In the end the next-gen consoles sold very well and only 10% of DAI sales were on last-gen.

“A lot of what we do is well-intentioned fakery,” said Patrick Weekes, pointing to a late quest called “Here Lies The Abyss”. “When you assault the fortress, you have a big cut scene that has a lot of Inquisition soldiers and a lot of Grey Wardens on the walls. And then anyone paying attention or looking for it as you’re fighting through the fortress will go, ‘Wow, I’m only actually fighting three to four guys at a time.’ Because in order for that to work [on old gen], you couldn’t have too many different character types on screen.”

Parts of DAI were still way behind schedule because it was so big and complex, and because some tools hadn’t started functioning until late on. Some basic features weren’t able to be implemented til the last minute (they were 8 months from ship before they could get all party members in the squad. At one point PW was playtesting to check if Iron Bull’s banter was firing, and realized there was no way to even recruit IB) and some flaws couldn’t be identified til the last few months. Trying to determine flow and pacing was rough.

They couldn’t disappoint fans again. They needed to take the time to revise and polish every aspect of DAI. “I think DAI is a direct response to DA2,” said Cameron Lee. “DAI was bigger than it needed to be. It had everything but the kitchen sink in it, to the point that we went too far... I think that having to deal with DA2 and the negative feedback we got on some parts of that was driving the team to want to put everything in and try to address every little problem or perceived problem.”

At this point they had 2 options: settle for an incomplete game, which would disappoint fans especially post-DA2, or crunch. They opted to crunch. It was the worst period of extended overtime in DAI’s development yet and was really rough: late nights, weekends, lost family time, 12-14 hour days, stress, mental health impacts.

During 2014′s crunch, they finally finished off features they wished they’d nailed down in year 1. They completed the Power (influence) system and added side quests, hidden treasures and puzzles. Things that weren’t working like destructible environments were promptly removed. The writers rewrote the prologue at least 6 times, but didn’t have enough time to pay such attention to the ending. Just a few months before launch pivotal features like jumping were added.

By summer BW had bumped back release by another 6 weeks for polish. DAI had about 99,000 bugs in it (qualitative and quantitative; things like “I was bored here” are a bug). “The number of bugs on an open-world game, I’ve never seen anything like it. But they’re all so easy to fix, so keep filing these bugs and we’ll keep fixing them.” For BW it was harder to discover them, and the QA team had to do creative experimentation and spend endless late nights testing things. PW would take builds home to let their 9 year old son play around. Their son was obsessed with mounting and dismounting the horse and accidentally discovered a bug where if you dismounted in the wrong place, all your companions’ gear would vanish. “It was because my son liked the horse so much more than anyone else ever had or will ever like the horse.”

MD had a knack for prioritizing which bugs should be fixed, like the one where you could get to inaccessible areas by jumping on Varric’s head. “Muscle memory is incredibly influential at this point. Through the hellfire which is game development, we’re forged into a unit, in that we know what everyone’s thinking and we understand everyone’s expectations.”

At launch they still didn’t have all their tools working, they only had their tools working enough.

DAI became the best-selling DA game, beating EA’s sales expectations in just a few weeks. If you look closely you can see the lingering remnants of its chaotic development, like the “garbage quests” in the Hinterlands. Some players didn’t realize they could leave the area and others got caught in a “weird, compulsive gratification loop”. Internet commentators rushed to blame “those damn lazy devs” but really, these were the natural consequences of DAI’s struggles. Maybe things would have been different if they’d miraculously received another year of dev time, or if they’d had years before starting development to build FB’s tools first.

“The challenge of the Hinterlands and what it represented to the opening 10 hours of DAI is exactly the struggle of learning to build open-world gameplay and mechanisms when you are a linear narrative story studio,” said Aaryn Flynn.

“DA2 was the product of a remarkable time-line challenge,” said Mike Laidlaw, “DAI was the product of a remarkable technical challenge. But it had enough time to cook, and as a result it was a much better game.”

Read the chapter for full details of course!

#dragon age #bioware #video games #SW:TOR #mass effect #I've seen plenty of this info discussed in articles/thinkpieces and on online communities over the years #but it's nice to read it first hand #some very insightful stuff here #these behind the scenes looks are very valuble #a lot of DAI's elements make sense given the context and what was going on in the background and the tech challenges they faced etc #be kind and respectful to devs folks they're human beings #also in general this book is really interesting and easy to read #funny in places too #it has lots of other chapters on lots of other games including Stardew Valley #I def recc buying it #anyway hope this post is useful/interesting to someone!#oh and as always support good treatment of game devs #crunch culture in the industry is harmful and exploitative

226 notes · View notes

olivia-anderson-fanfic · 4 years

Text

Satisfied, Part 40

First

~~~

Marinette didn’t know when exactly she ended up living at Wayne Manor full time, all that she knew was that it happened. Eventually, staying over to work with Tim, to spar with Damian, to talk to Jason and Dick, morphed into her never really going home. After all, it was always too late, or the bed was too soft to get up, or there was a dog asleep in her lap how dare you suggest she move.

But her routine didn’t change much at all. Their coffee was returned to them, so Tim and Marinette spent basically all day binge-drinking and working (with mandated breaks enforced by Jason and Dick). At night, well…

“Another boys night?” She said innocently, barely even looking up from what must have been the millionth flower she had embroidered.

Jason shrugged. “Sorry, Mari, you just wouldn’t want to come.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. Honestly, how had boys night been the best thing they could come up with? They’d been doing this for years. How did they even have secret identities at this point? Still, she nodded and smiled. “Sounds great. Have fun.”

“Try and get some sleep!” Called Dick over his shoulder.

“I won’t!” She yelled back, then went back to work. After a few minutes she stood up and brushed herself off. “Tikki, spots on.”

She grinned when she saw her outfit was finally back to normal. She’d kept the leather jacket, boots, and fighting gloves to hide the fact that she’d been weakened before, but now she’d added some tiny features to complete the look. Long, red ribbons tied her hair into her trademark ponytails, and she’d given herself a utility belt to match the rest of the family (also to hold snacks).

She hopped out the window and then made a large loop around the city to get to her and Damian’s meeting spot.

She rolled her eyes when she saw him. “Man, why’d you have to go for the utility belt first? I owe Bats one hour of sleep,” she whined.

He huffed softly. “Shut up! It’s small and easy to manage!”

She shook her head exasperatedly and pulled a bag of chips from one of her many pockets. “Mhmm.”

“You can’t judge me! You’re the one with streamers following behind you! That’s terrible for battle!”

“But great for aesthetic,” she said, grinning. “But you’re actually wrong. Pull on one.”

He gave her an incredulous look but did reach out to pull on one of the four trails of ribbon. It crumbled in his hand and, after a few moments, began to regenerate itself. “Uh….”

“Yep! It’s essentially streamers but even easier to break. I’m better at fashion than you, Kit.”

He sent her a glare. “Whatever. Let’s get on with patrols.”

‘Patrols’ was quickly derailed when they found a cute stray cat and started chasing it. Bruce would probably let Marinette have a pet if she asked, and it was so cute. She was about two seconds away from catching it when her receiver sprung to life.

She pouted and skid to a stop, bring a hand up to turn it on.

“Ladybug, you should come see this,” said Red Hood.

“Fine, location?”

He gave it to her and she turned off her comm.

“I have to go. Catch him for me?”

“Only if you agree to call him BatCat.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ll agree to consider it.”

Damian grinned at her and disappeared in search of the cat.

After a bit she managed to find her way to where Red Hood sat on a rooftop. “Hey,” she said casually, dropping down next to him.

“Mari,” he greeted, reaching out to poke her cheek.

“So, is there actually something or did you just want to see me?” She teased, smiling.

He didn’t smile back, nodding to a billboard nearby.

Her eyes found their way to it and she cringed. It had been completely defaced, an uneven coating of black spray-paint making whatever it was originally advertising worthless, the words ‘Come home NightMare <3’ where displayed proudly across it in an acidic green.

She balled her fists. She didn’t want to go back yet, but the Wayne Gala was only a week and a half away at this point. They’d obviously need her there to go over the plan.

The therapy sessions were helping, but the idea of getting back in that suit again… even seeing Kaalki made her feel a little sick to her stomach.

She steeled herself. “Right, I’ll go tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to, y’know.”

She bit the inside of her cheek. Technically, he was right. She could technically just opt not to go and they could hope that the security the Waynes had put in place would be enough. But, on a far more real level, he couldn’t be more wrong. She knew that they were getting in no matter how many people they had to fight against them because, ultimately, Batman wouldn’t have them killed and the Rogues had no such reservations.

Marinette pressed a kiss to his cheek. “It’ll be okay.”

She sat on the billboard, swinging her legs back and forth as she rested her head back against the paint. This was fine, she told herself. She wasn’t going to be killing anyone anymore. All the Rogues knew she wouldn’t, if the fact that they’d allowed her to disappear for weeks was any indication.

She wasn’t supposed to kill anyone last time, a pessimistic voice said.

She was glad to see the familiar uniforms below and hopped down, waving at them. “Hey, boys, been a while!”

They didn’t return her smile. She felt a needle prick her neck and next thing she knew she was in a warehouse.

Harley leaned into view, her blue eyes scrutinizing her. “Hey, darlin’, how you feeling?”

“Could be better,” Marinette mumbled.

She felt Harley and Ivy pull her into a hug and numbly returned it, closing her eyes. It only lasted for a few seconds, though, before Harley was quiet literally pulled away. Poison Ivy quickly scampered off into the corner.

She looked up to see Joker and cringed internally. She’d been hoping to never see him again, but she supposed she never had been lucky.

“Hello,” she said carefully, giving a weak grin.

“Hi!” He said, giving a wave and of course he was the one to return her smile. “We have some work to do.”

Marinette bit the inside of her cheek. “We?”

“Yup! Us three are going to Wayne Manor!”

She frowned confusedly and glanced around at everyone else. She couldn’t gauge anything from their faces, but Harley didn’t seem upset so she hoped this meant that she wasn’t about to be killed. She nodded hesitantly.

“Right. I’ll have to get inside the building and find a room that won’t change.”

Joker nodded and offered her a hand up. “You know where Wayne Manor is?”

She stared at his hand and swallowed thickly before taking it. She winced when she realized how warm it was. She’d been expecting something cold and clammy, like a corpse, but this was somehow worse. Knowing he was alive and just like that made her stomach turn.

She opened a portal to outside Wayne Manor.

“I don’t know how we’re supposed to get past the cameras.”

“Like this,” he chirped, pointing his gun at the nearest one and shooting it out.

Marinette clenched her fists. “Yeah, that’s one way of doing it,” she mumbled. She opened a portal to get inside the fence and cringed as another gunshot rang out. He was shooting out every camera, which was a good thing from a ‘breaking in’ standpoint but bad from a ‘protecting the Waynes’ standpoint.

They slipped through the house, undisturbed. Of course it was undisturbed, there was no one here --.

Except there was. And she looked right into the face of Tim.

Her eyes widened and she looked at Joker and Harley, hoping against hope that they would somehow miss him. He was short, this could work –.

But she never was lucky. And Joker had his gun out.

She jumped in front of Tim, pushing him to hide behind her.

Wow, she really wished she could stop having guns pointed at her. It really hadn’t gone well for her since she’d come to Gotham. Last time Robin had been shot, the time before that she’d been.

She wasn’t anxious to see what would happen if she got shot this time, she had no clue how Joker bullets would work with her costume. Would she not be affected? She hoped so, but what would happen if she was? This was a chemical thing, not just the usual brute force. Would the suit be useless against it? Would it keep her alive, choking on her own blood until the chemicals were out of her system? Which would be worse?

And she knew he would shoot her.

Because, ultimately, she was expendable. All the Rogues were to Joker. Sure, it would be a pain to plan around it, but they could always mow down security guards and get inside that way.

She just needed to reason with him. Would he listen to reason? She hoped so.

She felt hands grip the back of her dress and looked back at Tim. He was definitely playing up whatever fear he had, because he looked terrified. Good, at least they would never expect him to be a vigilante.

Not that it would matter if Joker shot them.

“What’s wrong, NightMare? You look like you’ve just had a bad dream.”

She resisted the urge to gag. She’d heard of how bad his jokes were, but really? He was worse than Chat Noir and – WAIT DON’T LOAD THE BARREL LIKE THAT.

She swallowed thickly, a hand reaching back to make sure Tim didn’t try and do something stupid like push her out of the way.

“Joker, we can’t shoot him,” she tried.

“I told you she would be a liability, Harls,” Joker said. “She just doesn’t have the balls to kill people.”

Harley winced beside him, her eyes falling to the floor.

“But it’s not even that!” She said. Except it was. But she could work around it. Reason. She needed a reason. “Listen to me! If we kill him then the Gala probably wouldn’t happen. Bruce loves his kids, right? If he ended up dead, then he would probably cancel. We can’t kill him!”

Joker stared her down. He wasn’t smiling behind (the mask? his face?) anymore, his lips set in a grim line. This was almost worse. She almost missed the smiling, at least then she had an idea of what was going through his head.

And then he lowered his gun.

She let herself relax a little. They continued through the house with Tim at their side. She made sure to stand between him and the Rogues. Just in case.

After she had pretended to memorize every room in the house (because, really, she knew most of it by heart thanks to the prank war), she opened a portal for them.

Joker stepped through and Harley stopped her before she could follow. “Puddin’, we’re just going to have a little chat, okay?”

“Fine!”

Marinette tensed. The portal closed and they were cast into silence. She hadn’t made it too obvious she was a hero, right? After all, it could just be brushed off as her hating the idea of killing…

Right?

Harley waved Tim off and she glanced back at him. He was still holding onto the sleeve of her dress. She gave him a small smile. “Hey, it’s fine. Go back to work, alright?”

He gave her a slightly skeptical look, but then nodded. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

She watched him leave and then turned to Harley. Was she suspicious? Did Marinette give anything away accidentally? Was this it?

“So, how do you know Tim?”

Marinette tensed. “I’m sorry?”

“You know him. How?”

She bit the inside of her cheek. What could she say? She couldn’t call him her friend, that would make it to obvious who she was. But she couldn’t act like she didn’t know him at all, that would make Harley suspicious…

“I guess I could call it…” She took a deep breath to steel herself. Her face reddened. God, he was going to hear this. “A celebrity crush?”

Harley squealed. “That’s so cute! Oh, and you saved his life? C’mon! He owes you a date!”

Damn it, Joker should have shot her. It would have been less excruciating than this. She buried her face in her hands. “I’d prefer… not doing that.”

The woman wasn’t listening, though. “Oh, you two would be so cute together! Your kids would be --!” Marinette decided that she was not going to pay attention to this, glaring at the ground as they walked through the mansion.

She was never going to live this down.

~~~

SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE THERE WAS A HURRICANE

Taglist

@comet-kun @thatonecroc @trippingovermyfeet @swiftie-miraculer13 @nickristus-dreamer @moongoddesskiana @i-am-ironic @indecisive-mess-named-me @thebooki3h @insane-fangirl-of-everything @deepestobservationwombat @theymakeupfairies @fatimaabbasrizvi @clumsy-owl-4178 @fanofalittletoomuch @iamablinkmarvelarmy @nathleigh @lilkymilky @silvergold-swirl @dino-lovingreen-angel @thestressmademedoit @kissa-chan @ladybug-182 @alysrose-starchild @t1dwarrior-of-earth @spyofthenightcourt @rowanrouge @nik-nak-3 @momothefemur @aestheticnpoetic @labschaos @our-preciousss @mochinek0 @eliza-bich @mythogaychic @severelyenchantedwonderland @sashakoi @smolplantmum @bluesimani @tropestropestropes @kitsunebell @keepingupwiththemalfoys @sassakitty @2confused-2doanything @too0bsessedformyowngood @all-mights-asscheeks @demonicbusiness @meg-an-ace @fantasiame @qualitypeacepainter @multplelifes @kokotaru

#timinette #timari #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #red robin #tim drake #satisfied #maribat

149 notes · View notes

lizaloveslevihan · 3 years

Text

Title: An Accidental Date

Summary: When Hange is late to their night out, Levi and Moblit are forced to spend the entire evening together and are surprised to find that they have a lot more in common than what they had initially thought.

Ao3 Link: Here

Notes: My levihan secret santa gift for the amazing @fanmoose12 ! Thank you for contributing so much to the entire levihan community! So many of us find solace in your work and your blog and I am personally grateful to you for all that you do in the name of levihan <3 I hope you enjoy!

It was a hip, rooftop bar that had recently opened up in their city around a month ago, which meant that everyone wanted to get in. This was why it was fortunate that Moblit had gotten there a little earlier and managed to secure a spot in the line before it got too long.

Hange had invited him yesterday, and a couple of others as well, so that she could formally introduce her new boyfriend, Levi what’s-his-name, whom she met a few weeks ago at a coffee shop. Moblit had already seen him pop up a couple of times in the lab they worked at where he often kept to himself and talked only to Hange. He had to admit — though he made Hange rather happy, he wasn’t looking forward to spending an evening with the man. There were rumors about how he was secretly part of a notorious gang in the city, and Moblit was afraid he’d wake up one day and hear about how his best friend’s body ended all chopped up in a ditch somewhere. Hange Zoe, as brilliant as she was, didn’t really need any more recklessness in her life.

He looked up and noticed how he was quickly nearing the entrance. His phone conveniently rang with some notifications at the same time, and he pulled it out from his pocket, surprised to see the message, or rather, messages, that were left in their group chat.

“I’m sorry, something came up. I can’t make it!" — Nanaba

“Same :( I’ll try to see if I can still go later!” — Nifa

“Mike and I are still at work. Don’t know if we can catch up.” — Erwin

Moblit sighed. He was disappointed, but really, what else could he do about it? His friends were busy people and were prone to dip on outings such as these. As far as he knew, he was only left with Hange and Levi as company. That didn’t seem too bad. The night was still salvageable, especially if Hange was going to be there to talk endlessly. Though Moblit suddenly realized, it did imply that he’d be the third wheel. Damn it.

As long as the booze was good, he supposed, all should be well.

He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice how he was directly in front of the bouncer until they cleared their throat rather loudly.

“Invite?” the man in front of him asked. He was on the younger side, but towered over Moblit by a couple of inches and had his large hand outstretched. He looked both wary and unimpressed, his piercing blue eyes giving Moblit a once-over.

“Uhhh,” Moblit stammered. He started patting down his pockets, well aware of the fact that there was nothing in them but his phone, wallet, and keys. Did they need an invite? He just assumed that all you had to do was wait in line like in Disneyland. None of his friends mentioned having to have an invite.

“I don’t have one?” Moblit spoke nervously. He didn’t normally go out to places such as these, so he was totally out of the loop when it came to handling these sorts of things. Did he have to slap a twenty-dollar bill on his hand or something? Did he have to threaten anyone? Did he have to lie? Damn it, what was he going to do now? Before he could even make a move, he heard someone call his name.

“Berner?”

He turned and was startled to see none other than Levi whats-his-name. He wore a leather jacket on top of a gray sweater, black skinny jeans, and a pair of boots. He was raising an eyebrow at Moblit, clearly surprised to see him too.

Moblit cleared his throat, making sure to remain eye contact with him. “Levi.”

Now that he finally got a clearer view of the man (since the only times he saw him were stolen glances every time he dragged Hange out of the lab and such), he was surprised to see that he was much shorter than what he had initially thought. He had to lower his head to be able to meet those steel, gray eyes. However, despite the height difference, Levi what’s-his-name still radiated an intense aura of intimidation. Moblit wasn’t scared of him — dealing with Hange every day and trying to prevent her from blowing herself up was much more terrifying — but he couldn’t deny that there was just something about those eyes that made him want to stay on his good side as much as possible. Levi didn’t seem like someone you wanted as an enemy. As if Moblit had any anyway.

The shorter man narrowed his eyes up at Moblit as if making sure it was really him. After a few seconds, he sighed and turned his gaze to the bouncer. “He’s with me, Reiner. Let him in.”

Reiner’s eyes widened and he immediately stepped away, “Of course, Mr. Ackerman.”

Ah, so that’s what his last name was, Moblit thought in surprise. He never really bothered with knowing it. To him, he was always either Levi, or shorty, or Mr. Grumps, or whatever name Hange referred to him as. He figured it was safer if he’d stick with the first one.

Moblit darted his eyes back and forth the two. He didn’t like what that little detail of “knowing the bouncer” implied. What if he really was a gangster and he had all those connections in the underground? What if he posed a threat to Hange? What if he was involving her in some illegal activity in a move to exploit her knowledge—

“Tch,” Levi spoke, rolling his eyes. He started to make his way inside without looking back, “Aren’t you coming, Berner?” he called.

Pulled out from his thoughts, Moblit darted off and quickly followed him. They went through a small receiving area before turning and going up a plight of stairs. As he stared at Levi’s back, he couldn’t help but wonder exactly what Hange saw in him. He seemed cold and distant, someone who he couldn’t really see keeping up with her enthusiasm. But maybe that’s how it works. Opposites attract, after all. He did seem to care for Hange — if he didn’t then he wouldn’t be picking her up every day after work and made sure she got home safely. A small part of Moblit wanted to get along with him, maybe get to know him better for her sake. Hange dated a few men and women who weren't really the best of people, only looking to mooch off of her and all that. Some of them didn’t even treat her right, their egos unable to handle the idea of dating a smart woman like Hange. Hopefully, his thoughts about Levi being this gangster were just the stress and wariness seeping back into his brain.

Once they reached the top, Levi opened the door and allowed him to go first. Moblit nodded as he passed him, and his eyes widened once he finally got a good view of their vicinity.

The first thing that demanded his attention was the immaculate view of the city behind a glass wall that prevented anyone from falling to the concrete pavements down below. They were surrounded by a stretch of buildings and towers with lights that twinkled all around them. The place itself was buzzing with activity. There were so many people, all dressed to the nines, lounging around the many sofa chairs, conversing by the wide, open bar, or even loitering around the small stage at the far corner that a couple of people were setting up for some sort of stand-up act. Jazz music blared through the speakers as glasses were clinked together and Moblit couldn't help but feel like this was the missing piece he was looking for in his life. Maybe drinking alone in his apartment while watching “Friends” wasn’t the only option.

He also couldn’t help but wonder exactly how Levi knew the bouncer and how he had access to this obviously exclusive place. If his gang theory was correct, then that would probably explain it. Hange didn’t really give him details about Levi’s personal life.

Levi made his way to the very back and sat at a secluded sofa chair, right next to the glass wall. Moblit followed suit and sat on the empty chair right in front of him. He turned his head and leaned in to take a view of the busy streets and was surprised to see just how far up they were, considering how that plight of stairs wasn’t exactly long.

“I’ll have the usual, Eren,” Levi suddenly spoke up, and Moblit turned back to look at a young brunette that had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. He wore a nervous expression along with a blue button-up and jeans and held up a pad paper and a pen. His shoulders were stiff as he quickly scribbled down Levi’s order before turning his attention to Moblit.

Moblit hesitated for a couple of seconds, considering his options. He quickly glanced at Levi who gave him an expectant gaze before looking back at the young man, “Vodka,” he said, going with his favorite, “on the rocks, please.”

The Eren kid nodded and wrote down his order as well. But before he could leave, Levi suddenly grabbed his arm and pulled him down to his level. Moblit noted the obvious discomfort and anxiety the young man was harboring as he gulped and listened to every word the midget said.

"I did,” Eren nodded profusely, a drop of sweat making its way down his face as Levi pulled away, “She’s just talking to Mr. Kenny downstairs. I can go get her if you want—”

“No,” Levi said firmly, crossing his arms and leaning back on the chair. He stared at Eren, a threatening look plastered across his face, “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t doing any funny business, Yeager. You understand?”

“Yes sir.” Eren laughed nervously as he scratched the back of his neck. He bowed his head and all but ran off.

Moblit couldn’t help but narrow his eyes at him. Was that how he treated waiters? It seemed like he knew the kid, but still, it didn’t excuse how rude he was to him. A person’s character could always be deciphered by the way they treated waiters and waitresses or people who just generally worked in service. And by the looks of it, Levi didn’t have a good one. Moblit didn’t like that one bit. His previous thoughts of trying to get along with him were slowly exiting out of the door.

“Where are the others?” Levi asked, looking at Moblit boredly.

Moblit crossed his arms. “They couldn’t make it.”

“The fuck?” Levi spat, narrowing his eyes, “What do you mean they couldn’t make it?”

“Everyone was busy. They all texted me in our group chat the moment I got to the front.” Moblit explained skeptically. The excitement he felt from coming to this new environment was slowly fading as he spent more time with Levi Ackerman. Sure, he didn’t want to be on his bad side, but the way he treated that waiter really rubbed him the wrong way.

Levi’s face immediately turned sour. “I fucking go through all this trouble and you’re telling me—”

Before Levi could continue, his phone rang abruptly, cutting him off. He didn’t even check the caller ID before answering it and pressing it to his ear, “Where the fuck are you, shitty glasses?

Moblit’s eyes widened at the mention of Hange, and he carefully observed the way Levi listened to her. It was quiet for a bit as Hange rambled off an excuse, and Levi’s face turned even sourer. Moblit had a feeling of what her excuse was, and he mentally scolded himself for not dragging her with him when he left the lab.

“The fuck?” Levi said annoyingly. He paused before glancing at Moblit, “Yeah, Berner is here. I can’t believe you. You dragged me into this damn mess and you and the rest of your friends aren’t showing up?” Moblit narrowed his eyes at Levi’s harsh and dictatorial tone, “You dragged me into this mess so you better show up, okay? And don’t blow yourself up for fuck’s sake.”

Moblit didn’t like the way he was talking to Hange one bit. Sure, it was pretty annoying to have someone flake out on you, but you didn’t need to be an asshole about it. Was Moblit disappointed at Hange for leaving him alone with this guy? Absolutely. He was more pissed off than anything. But he knew better than to blame her and make her feel bad about it. He may have only known Levi for a couple of minutes, at best ten, but he decided then and there that no matter how “good” this guy is — him talking to Hange like that, or to anyone for that matter, was completely unacceptable. He felt the anger bubble in his stomach at the thought of him speaking to Hange that way every day.

Levi gave her a couple more short responses before hanging up. “Tch.” he scoffed, glancing at his phone and shaking his head. Once he pocketed it, he met Moblit’s irritated gaze. “What are you looking at?”

“You don’t have to talk to her that way,” Moblit sneered, his line of defense rising, “she’s just stressed with work. You have no idea—“

“I know enough,” Levi cut off, carefully leaning forward, he spoke: “the way we talk to each other doesn’t concern you. Mind your own damn business.”

“It is my business because she’s my best friend,” Moblit huffed out, matter-of-factly. He leaned in as well, mimicking Levi’s movements, “And I won’t let some asshole like you talk to her like that, especially when it comes to her work. You have no idea how much it matters to her.”

“Of course I fucking know how much her work is important to her,” Levi emphasized, clearly offended, those gray eyes starting to catch fire, “and what did you just call me?”

“An asshole ,” Moblit responded, all hesitation now leaving his body. Who cares if he was Hange’s boyfriend? Or if he was some sort of notorious and dangerous person? The way he talked to waiters and women was not okay and he deserved to be held accountable. “You better not talk to her like that again.”

“For fuck’s sake, that’s how we normally talk to each other.” Levi growled, clenching his fists, “You have no business snooping in another person’s relationship, even if they’re your best friend.” Levi paused as if he just realized something. Moblit noticed how his fists clenched tighter by the second. He pulled back and crossed his legs, those gray eyes now holding a blazing emotion Moblit couldn’t exactly pinpoint. Whatever it was, it was worse than earlier. “Unless…” Levi started, scoffing, “I’m missing something here, Berner?”

Moblit raised an eyebrow at that statement. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Exactly what it means.” Levi spoke, each word coated in that dark emotion again, “Your job doesn’t exactly require you to be away from her now, does it?”

Moblit looked at him curiously, “And what the hell does that have to do with anything?”

Before Levi could reply, Eren appeared with their drinks.

“Black tea for you, Mr. Levi.” Eren placed the cup in front of him on the table. “And a vodka on the rocks for you, sir,” he said, placing a glass filled with alcohol in front of Moblit.

“Thank you, Eren,” Levi said, his eyes never leaving Moblit’s face. He glanced down at the drinks, his eyebrows scrunched together as if contemplating something. After a few seconds, he finally spoke up: “You know what? Why don’t you get vodka for me too? It’s gonna be a long night.”

Eren’s eyes visibly widened. “Uhm,” he started, looking at Levi strangely, “Are you—”

“I’d like to order a bottle,” Moblit cut off, copying Levi’s movements. “If you would be so kind. Thank you ,” he said, emphasizing the last words.

Eren darted his eyes between the two men as silence suddenly enveloped them. Sensing the upcoming argument, he simply nodded and left as quickly as he came.

“Look, man. I don’t want any trouble.” Moblit started, uncrossing his arms and grabbing his glass. “I just want what’s best for Hange and so you better learn how to talk to her properly to her or there will be damn consequences.”

Levi rolled his eyes, which further irritated Moblit even more. “That’s how we always talk to each other, Berner . It’s our relationship. How dare you think I would ever disrespect shitty glasses like that? You don’t know shit. Stop assuming. And what the hell? Consequences? Really now? ”

Moblit wasn’t a hundred percent sure he could do anything consequential to the likes of Levi, but he sure as hell was going to try. “Who the hell talks like that to their girlfriends?” Moblit said, changing the topic, his eyes narrowed, not entirely convinced with Levi’s reasoning.

“I don’t have anything to prove to you. It’s our relationship,” Levi huffed, taking a sip from his cup of tea. “As much as I really want to fucking leave you alone right now, she said she’ll be here in an hour or so. So can you stop being a fucking snoop or shit while we wait?”

Levi broke off eye contact and looked at the twinkling city lights on the horizon. They fell into an uncomfortable silence once more as Moblit grabbed his glass and gulped it down in one go. Eren arrived and left a bottle of vodka which he placed in the middle of the table before eagerly disappearing again. He felt slightly guilty for going off on Levi like that, especially since he was the one who got him into the bar in the first place. But still, his rudeness was unnerving. Moblit also didn’t like how Levi implied something about his and Hange’s relationship. Sure, he had felt something for her before, but it had been ages ago. She’s grown to become something more as a friend to him — family even. Besides, Moblit already spent way too much time with her. He loved Hange, but even she could be too much for him sometimes. All he wanted was for her to be happy and treated well by anyone she goes out with because that’s what she deserves. Call him overbearing and all but he just wanted to protect his best friend. Especially since there were so many assholes out there these days.

Assholes like Levi Ackerman.

Before Moblit could indulge himself with another glass, his phone rang.

He checked the caller ID and felt a sense of relief to see Hange’s name on the screen. He quickly answered and pressed the device against his ear, “Hey, Hange.”

This garnered the attention of Levi, who immediately looked at him with wide, yet narrowed eyes.

“Moblit!” she spoke exasperatedly, and he heard some shuffling noise in the background, “I know Levi is there with you, but I’m really sorry I’m going to be late! I swear, I was going to leave but then—”

“You found where Sawney and Bean were hiding, didn’t you?” Moblit cut off.

“Yeah! How did you know?”

He darted his eyes towards the sky before looking back down again, “You wouldn’t be staying back at the lab for any other reason.”

Hange chuckled nervously. “I saw Nana and the others cancel on us, man, I’m sorry! I swear, I’ll just be really quick and I’ll get there.”

“It’s okay,” Moblit said softly, glancing at Levi who was glaring at him. He smirked a little bit before proceeding, “Take your time. I’ll still be here when you get off from work.”

“And Levi?” Hange asked expectantly, her voice going a little soft, “He’s all right? I feel really bad for dragging him out and being late and all.”

“He’s fine . We’re fine .” Moblit lied, “Don’t worry about it, okay? Remember where their food is, and don’t forget to leave their cages locked this time.”

“Jeez,” Hange laughed, “You and shorty are really starting to sound like each other these days. Anyway, I got it! I’ll see you guys in a few. Don’t have too much fun without me!”

Before Moblit could say anything more and ask about what she had meant, Hange hung up.

“Is she still coming or what?” Levi scoffed, drinking his tea and finishing the cup in one go.

“She will,” Moblit said, pouring himself another glass, “In a few. Which is going to be around thirty minutes to two hours.”

“I’d say she’d be here in three hours,” Levi rolled his eyes, “Are you willing to wait that long?”

“I have nothing else to do.” Moblit answered immediately, taking another swing of vodka, “you can leave me alone here.”

“Not a chance,” Levi said, taking the bottle of vodka and pouring it in his now-empty teacup, “I have all night,” he said before taking a huge gulp.

“Good for you, then,” Moblit responded. They fell back into the uncomfortable silence as they finished the bottle.

Levi glared at him, his cheeks turning a little red, “You don’t seem drunk.”

Moblit scoffed. “I know my way around alcohol. A bottle is nothing .”

“How about three then?” Levi challenged.

He raised an eyebrow at the man in front of him. “Are you trying to prove something here?”

“Just curious as to how long the guy who dares to call me an asshole can last.”

Moblit swallowed. He did know his way around alcohol, but he didn’t like the challenging gaze Levi had on his face. “Fine,” Moblit said as Levi raised his hand and waved over Eren who quickly scurried back to their table. “You’re on.”

*******

One would think that a guy like Levi Ackerman, with his leather jacket, intimidating aura, and steely gray eyes, would have a rather high alcohol tolerance. And so Moblit wasn’t expecting to see just how tipsy he’s become after about five more glasses. His black hair was disheveled from the sweat that had accumulated, his eyes a little bloodshot, and his jacket laid discarded on the other side of the sofa. They ordered a couple of snacks from the bar, such as nachos and enchiladas, but they were mostly left untouched. He felt people drilling holes at the back of his head, but they kept their distance. He supposed it had something to do with his new drinking buddy. Moblit had to admit, he didn’t think a guy like him would go along with this thing. But it really did seem like he had something he wanted to prove. They had only been doing this for an hour and thirty minutes at most.

But Moblit wasn’t any different. Though he was accustomed to drinking (something Levi clearly wasn’t), he couldn't deny the fact that his senses were off. He did hear his heart beating rapidly against his chest. Huh.

Before he could pour himself another glass, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He grabbed it with his aching hands and saw a message from none other than Hange herself.

I had another discovery, Moblit! OMG. Tell Levi I’m really sorry but I gotta check this out. It’ll take me thirty more minutes. See you guys! — Hange

Moblit groaned and slammed his phone down on the table. He didn’t know if he could take this anymore.

“Let me guess, she discovered some new bullshit again, didn’t she?” Levi said, stretching the last word.

Moblit, as apprehensive as he still was, nodded in agreement, “I should have dragged her here when I left the lab. Now, look at what happened.”

Levi slumped against his seat and started massaging his temples, “And why didn’t you?”

“She said she was going to ‘follow soon’ after finishing up some paperwork,” Mobit rolled his eyes and finger-quoted. He reached out and took a nacho chip, finally getting some food in his system.

“Please, she always says shit she doesn’t mean,” Levi sputtered, his face getting a little redder with each passing second. He reached out and sloppily got some food as well, “Like how she keeps telling me ‘Oh Levi, I took a bath!’” Levi imitated her voice as he waved around his piece of nacho chip and stared at Moblit with wild eyes, “But every time I smell her, she obviously doesn’t. Like how the fuck does her hair look all nice and soft and shit and still smell like actual shit?”

Moblit couldn’t help but bark out a laugh. “That’s why I am so glad we have to wear masks at work sometimes. She used to go on weeks without taking a bath, like, it got so damn bad to the point a couple of people asked to be transferred to a new department.” Moblit said, finally grabbing more food. He didn’t realize just how hungry he was. “I leave little hints too! I’d say ‘Uh Hange, I think the test subjects need to be in a clean and objective environment or something.’” Moblit imitated as well.

“You? You actually say shit like that to Hange?” Levi asked in disbelief, pointing a finger at him like a child.

“I have a nose too! Have you ever sniffed someone who didn’t bathe for weeks?” Moblit gasped, “It was hell. It didn’t help how dense she is and didn’t take the hint—”

“Ha!” Levi suddenly exclaimed, pounding his fist on the table, “Shitty glasses is so fucking dense! We’ve been seeing each other for almost two months now and it only took her… what? Two weeks ago to figure out we were… something? ” Levi scoffed as Moblit looked at him with wide eyes, “She gave me all this bullshit about being really good friends and shit.” He glared at Moblit, using his hands and arms expressively, “You don’t fucking make out with your friend at a coffee shop parking lot! Twice! ”

“Seriously? ” Moblit asked incredulously as Levi poured himself another glass and drank it, “She never mentioned this to me.”

“Probably because she wanted to preserve your friendship or something,” Levi muttered bitterly, only enough for Moblit to hear. “It’s all shitty four-eyes’ fault,” the small man droned out, leaning back against the chair. He groaned, rubbing his temple, “She kept… yapping about this night out and shit, and I just wanted to make her happy…

“She fucking means so much to me!” Levi exclaimed, slamming a hand back on the table. This garnered the attention of more people around them. Moblit suddenly started to feel a little embarrassed amongst other things. He supposed they weren’t going to get kicked out due to the nature of Levi’s influence, which still very much remained a mystery. He was also rather surprised at the things that were coming out of his mouth. He didn’t realize just how… deep Levi and Hange’s relationship were.

“She… fucking… means,” Levi glared, slapping his hand on the table again, “so much to me!” He glared at Moblit, “You’re just a jealous and shit cause you,” Levi coughed, “like her too.”

Moblit had been drinking another glass when Levi said that, and so of course, he really had no choice but to spit it out all over the table. “What?”

Levi immediately stood up, which was a bad idea, considering he was far from being his normal self. “The fuck!” he exclaimed. He fell back into the chair ungracefully, “Yeah! You! You like her and shit… and I just… you always take care of her and I’m glad you do because she would be blown up by now…”

“‘Oh, Moblit! I discovered this thing!’” Moblit said, imitating Hange’s voice once again as he waved around his hands. Okay, perhaps he was drunker than he initially realized, “She’s always trying to blow herself up! And then she tries to test things without seeing if it was safe or not. Like who does that? Don’t you have a bloody Ph.D. or something? Like why do I have to be the responsible one? How did you even get through grad school? What the hell?”

“Exactly! It’s like I’m babysitting a fucking child.” Levi rolled his eyes, which he probably shouldn’t have done since he looked like he was going to be sick. “Aren’t you supposed to be a genius? Top of the class at some fancy-ass university? Why the fuck do I have to make sure you eat three meals a day and make sure you take a fucking bath and wear all the proper clothes and shit? Like.... the fuck man?” He drank another glass.

Moblit did the same as he nursed his glass, “It’s cause you care about her man,” he said, starting to feel a little emotional. What the hell was going on with him? “Cause she means a lot to you, right? And she means a lot to me too... but…”

“Okay!” Moblit suddenly exclaimed, feeling some of the tears build up behind his eyes, “She really helped me through college, man. I was in deep shit cause I didn’t have the motivation but she came in… and just helped me turn my life around? Like I don’t know how she did it, she was crazy let me tell you, I mean she still is… but she always pulled through for me. She means so fucking much to me, and sure I had fucking feelings for her ages ago, but I realized we were better off as friends. I mean, look at you, already having so much trouble. I just wanted her to be treated nice and all, especially since she dated a shit ton of assholes before you....”

Levi nodded as if he understood what it was like to have your life fucked up and saved by Hange Zoe. “So you… don’t like her and shit…?” Levi asked, his face a little guarded.

“I fucking love her,” Moblit declared firmly, “but not that way.”

Levi looked as if a weight had been lifted from his chest. His shoulders relaxed a bit, and he actually looked rather calm and collected despite the obvious mess he harbored. “I swear, the way we talk is all bickering and shit… I would never…”

“No man, I understand that now,” Moblit cut off, feeling bad. Even though he didn’t get that whole communication they had, he could see how much Levi cared for Hange. “I was being pissy and snooty about it.”

Levi agreed, not even denying it. He absentmindedly drummed his fingers on his thigh, as if trying to figure out how to say his next words: “She’s lucky to have you, you know? Four-eyes probably would have been rotting on the ground if it weren’t for you.”

“Well,” Moblit coughed, his head starting to feel heavy, “Thanks for making her take a bath. And you know… making her happy.”

Levi blinked. He leaned and looked at Moblit curiously, “I… do?”

“Man, she’s always extra livelier at work these past couple of days.” Moblit explained, moving to the enchiladas and stuffing a bit to his face, “You can see it in her eyes and crap. They’re all extra... sparkly.”

Levi snorted and scratched the back of his neck. Moblit could have sworn his cheeks became even redder. “Man, when I saw her at that coffee shop, I wanted to stay away as far as possible. She was so fucking loud and... obnoxious and shit. But she kept coming back and shit and I kept coming back too…”

“Love at first sight, huh?” Mobit scoffed. He really needed to stop drinking. “I didn’t think you’d be the type of guy who’d be into that.”

Levi narrowed his bloodshot eyes at him, “And I didn’t think you’d be the kind of guy who could handle alcohol really well.” the small man spoke disbelievingly, “I thought you were some fucking nerd. But a quiet one.”

“Hey! being Hange Zoe’s assistant is something that requires weekly alcohol consumption.” Moblit droned out, “And here I thought you were some gangster or shit.” Moblit laughed nervously, hoping Levi would disprove it immediately. To his surprise, Levi didn’t. Instead, he nodded and shrugged.

Moblit paled. So the rumors were true. Damn it, he thought. He insulted Levi and had gotten him all pissed drunk. Just as he was starting to open up to him, this happens. As he started to think about a possible escape plan (he needed to get an Uber or something since he was obviously in no place to drive himself, but his phone was dying and it was nearing midnight), Levi let out a small chortle. Moblit looked up and couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Throughout the night, Levi had kept an impassive face that had switched between anger and annoyance. He never imagined Levi would grace him with a small smirk.

“Tch, you should have seen how constipated your face was, Berner .” Levi said amusedly, leaning to grab another glass, “You looked like you were... about to shit your pants.”

“Wait, so…” Moblit started, feeling a little dumbfounded. The alcohol wasn’t doing any help clearing his mind either, “You’re not part of a gang or something illegal like that?”

“That’s fucking hilarious! The only thing I’m part of is this family business,” Levi said, waving to the place around them, much to Moblit’s confusion, “And if I were a part of a gang, like those things at like aha… the TV and you know, movies… and shit fucking shit like that, I wouldn’t be telling you .” Levi said, emphasizing more words than the others.

“So you actually fucking own the place?!” Moblit cried out, waving his hands all around. So that explained his whole connection with the bouncer and the waiter. He was their boss . Moblit couldn’t decide if this was worse or not.

“Scream it louder for the whole city, Berner!” Levi said as he slammed his fist on the table, “Yeah idiots!” Levi screamed as he stood up, gaining dozens of eyes on him, “I fucking own the place!”

“What are you doing?” a disbelieving voice suddenly asked.

Moblit turned to see a young woman in all black — a black shirt, leather jacket, jeans, and boots. Her red scarf being the only pop of color on her body. She appeared out of nowhere right in front of their table, crossed her arms, and looked at Levi expectantly. She had the same steely gray eyes, raven hair, and stoicism Levi had but was much taller than the man himself. Levi squinted his eyes, peering at her curiously as if he didn’t recognize her. “Satan?”

“What the—” she shifted her eyes to the bottles and untouched nachos on the table and finally to Moblit. After a few seconds, her lips turned into a small smirk.

“I was going to reprimand you for talking shit to Eren again, but oh wow , when he told me you were actually drinking alcohol, I almost couldn’t believe him.” the woman said in disbelief, the smirk on her face becoming more apparent. Her voice was stiff and very straight-forward, but she harbored a sense of amusement as of the moment. She pulled out her phone and directed the camera towards Levi. “This is gold.”

“Oi! What the fuck do you think you’re doing, you brat!?” Levi sputtered out as he tried to grab the woman’s phone without much success. She raised her arm and suddenly Levi wasn’t the intimidating figure he once was.

“Blackmail, obviously,” the woman rolled her eyes, “This is what you get for scaring Eren again, you boomer.”

Levi fell back onto the sofa chair after multiple attempts and had no choice but to glare at the figure looming over them. He breathed in deeply as he massaged his temples once more.

“What exactly did you do to my brother, and how can I make him do this again?” the woman coughed, turning her gaze towards Moblit. “This is the first time in our lives he’s ever been this drunk.”

Moblit hiccuped. Ah, he figured these two were related. The physical resemblance was almost uncanny, but not as much as their resemblance in personalities. “I just called him an asshole. Seemed to do the trick.”

The young woman narrowed her eyes at him and shook her head, “You’re kidding, right? No way,” she said incredulously, her phone still filming the sight in front of her, “I’ve been calling him that all our lives. What the hell?”

“Oi! Mikasa! You better fucking stop that shit,” Levi sputtered, moving to stand up, but failing. “I don’t want Hange to… Hange...look at me like this.”

“Ohhhh, so this is all about Hange then,” the woman—Mikasa scoffed as she raised an eyebrow, “He’s been obsessed with her ever since they met. So that must mean…” she looked Moblit up and down, “you’re Moblit, aren’t you?”

Moblit nodded. His eyes were starting to close. What was exactly going on again?

“He’s been so jealous of you, it’s annoying . He keeps muttering to himself how much he hates you cause you spend all that time with Hange and crap. And he thinks he’s not loud enough for us to hear him.” Mikasa rolled her eyes, “The boomer is fucking whipped.”

“I can still hear you, satan,” Levi sneered, waving her away as if she could disappear, “I’m not fucking deaf.”

“Uh-huh,” Mikasa said, smirking at her phone screen. “This is what you get for always crapping on me and Eren. Don’t worry, boomer,” Mikasa hummed, placing a hand on her hip, “I’m sure Hange will still like you and shit.”

As Levi mumbled curses after curses, it was then she darted her eyes toward the end of the bar. Her eyes widened as if she just had a brilliant idea.

“You need some water or crap.” Mikasa declared. She raised her hand and waved once. Eren was once again by her side, a little calmer than before.

“What are you doing?” he whispered-yelled, eyes wide.

Mikasa grabbed his arm, pulled him close, and whispered something to his ear. Eren’s eyes widened even more as he pulled back. He gave her a crazy look that said “really?”

“No,” he coughed, backing away from her, “that’s a horrible idea.”

“He’ll be fine ,” Mikasa scoffed, giving him a pointed look, “he won’t know.”

“Of course he will , someone’s gonna post it on YouTube or something.” Eren argued, “Which is probably going to be you .”

“Have you seen him? He’s a fucking boomer .” Mikasa retorted, “He doesn’t know how to work that crap. Besides, it’s payback from that stunt he pulled with you last week.”

“I told you! It’s fine if he makes me work extra shifts! I need them anyway!” He darted his eyes back to Levi who seemed to be just staring into the space in front of him now. “I really think this isn’t a good idea, Mikasa.”

“Don’t worry, you won’t get in trouble. I’ll take the blame and he’ll probably be too hungover to remember anything.” Mikasa told Eren firmly, “It’s gonna be great .”

Eren hesitated for a couple of seconds before sighing and leaving. Moments later, he was back with two bottles of water.

Mikasa took one bottle and handed him her phone and instructed him to keep pointing it at Levi. She carefully approached her older brother and kneeled in front of him, “Oi! Boomer! Drink up,” she said, throwing the item on his lap, “You don’t wanna look like a mess in front of Hange now, do you?”

Levi eyed the bottle of water curiously before looking back up to Mikasa who now had a passive expression on her face, “What the fuck is this?”

“Water, obviously,” she rolled her eyes, “You blind now? You gotta drink that crap so you can start being sober. Isn’t Hange going to be here soon or something?”

Levi looked at Moblit who simply shrugged in return, “Can I have one too, by… by any chance…?”

Mikasa glanced at Eren for a quick second before handing Moblit the other bottle of water as well. “Sure.”

Before Moblit could even open the bottle, Levi was already drinking his. The moment he drank the first sip, he gagged.

This isn’t water, Mobit thought to himself, inspecting the bottle and sniffing it, it was more alcohol.

He didn’t even get a chance to warn or say anything to Levi as he had already finished the bottle.

Moblit shrugged and finished the bottle as well.

“Okay boomer, let’s get you up.” Mikasa said slyly, placing a hand on her brother’s shoulder, “I think I see Hange over there at the far end of the corner.” She looked on over to Moblit as well, the smirk coming back to her face and deepening further. “Oh, this is going to be amazing.”

*******

They were going to kill her.

Of course, her experiments with Sawney and Bean, their beautiful and lovely lab mice Hange had initially lost the day before, ran longer than expected. She couldn't help it — she felt extremely bad for losing them under her watch. She had finished around thirty minutes after her last message to Moblit, and she would have gotten to the bar much earlier if only her car’s battery hadn’t died on her. It was lucky she had charged her phone before she left the house today and was able to get an Uber. There weren’t any buses this late into the night anymore, which would have been a huge problem.

She was rather tired from today’s activities, but the thought of hanging out with at least Levi and Moblit had been enough to keep her awake. She was sad her other friends couldn't come, but at least those two had pulled through.

On the car ride there, other than her thoughts of hanging out with her best friend and her boyfriend, she scrambled to think of an excuse on what to say to the latter. She had wanted Levi to meet her friends for so long so that maybe Levi could not only get out of his shell, but they could also possibly schedule more hangouts as a group. Levi only really hung out and worked in his family’s bar with his uncle and his little sister. Hange didn’t want the others to know he was the owner out of fear of her friends possibly freeloading and putting him in an awkward position. Which was why she just omitted that little detail when she called for everyone to get drinks. Levi had been hesitant to go forward with the meeting but had agreed anyway, which made her feel incredibly guilty about being the one late.

She also wondered just how well he was getting along with Moblit. Though, she was pretty confident things were going to be, or they already were, awkward between the two. Another thing to add to her guilt list.

Hopefully, she thought as the car stopped in front of her destination, her scolding wouldn’t be too bad. From either of them.

She paid the driver and got off and scanned the long lines in front of her. Normally, she would have waited in line like any other normal person out of respect, but she was already running late. Mumbling apologies, she headed straight to the entrance where Reiner stood.

“Oh! Hange! You’re finally here!” the blonde exclaimed, his face lighting up at the sight of her, “The boss already went in with another guy a couple of hours ago. I heard it was pretty crazy up there.”

“Hi, Reiner!” Hange smiled warmly, “Yeah, I had been too preoccupied at the lab and almost lost track of time! I’m here now, though, so hopefully Levi won’t scold me too much.” she said sheepishly.

Reiner instantly stepped away to let her in, “I’m sure he won’t be too angry with you. You are his number one after all.” which made Hange blush and look down on the pavement, “Have fun!”

Hange gave him another smile before hurriedly making her way inside and up the stairs. She almost tripped a couple of times but had managed not to. Throwing open the doors to the rooftop, she panted, eyes searching for the two. Knowing Levi, he would be in his usual secluded spot by the very back. However, she was surprised to see how virtually empty that side was. She then directed her gaze towards the other side to the small stage where a comedy act was usually situated at. Her eyes then widened at the sight in front of her, and she had to do a double-take to make sure what she was seeing was real and not a figment of her imagination.

“There were moments of gold and there were flashes of light!” Moblit screamed with his eyes closed. His hair and his button-up shirt were a certified mess. He threw an arm around… Levi?

“There were things I'd never do again!” Levi, the normally quiet, stoic, and clean person screamed into the microphone he held as he wrapped a free arm around Moblit’s waist, leaning towards him. His eyes were also closed, his normally tidy and neat hair a disheveled mess covered in sweat. “But then they'd always seemed right!”

“There were nights of endless pleasure!” Moblit sang in an extremely ridiculous high note which made Hange visibly cringe. The crowd that had formed in front of them, however, thought otherwise and all started cheering him on and clapping, “It was more than any laws allow!” Moblit dipped a little backward at that last note.

“Baby, baby!” they both screamed as they let go and proceeded to face one another.

“If I kiss you like this, ” Levi said, placing a hand on Moblit’s neck as he opened his bloodshot eyes. Yes, he was absolutely wasted.

“And if you whisper like that,” Moblit sang affectionately as he cupped Levi’s cheek. The crowd gave another holler at the action.

“It was lost long ago!” they sang together, holding onto one another for dear life, “But it's all coming back to me!”

“If you want me like this,” Levi whispered almost… seductively? That’s it. Hange must be dreaming. There was no way in hell this was happening. What was worse was how both men knew each line of that Celine Dion song and had it memorized. She stood frozen in her spot, unmoving, not knowing whether she should laugh, cry, or take out her phone to record first.

“And if you need me like that,” Moblit yelled, pulling Levi close to him once again. The shorter man wobbled and held onto him for support, “It was dead long ago!”

“But it's all coming back to me!” they screamed together before tumbling down. The crowd gasped and laughed at the sight in front of them. The instrumental music kept playing as Hange heard a wretched puking noise. The crowd all collectively groaned in disgust and dispersed, enabling Hange to get a better view of the fallen men.

What the actual fuck.

They both had puked their guts out, and so they were both covered in chunky pools of vomit. Moblit had passed out immediately, his arm still wrapped around Levi’s. The smaller man’s eyes were lidded and bloodshot, trails of vomit still leaking down from his chin. He looked around, confused, before screaming: “Oi! Four eyes! It’s no funty!” he groaned, attempting to wipe away the vomit from his chin but instead spreading it even more, “The brat said you were here already! Show perself! I just want to be with youuuuu!”

Hange’s mouth fell open. The shock she felt was even bigger than the comedy of the situation, and she had to slap herself to make sure all of this was real. How did they even get to this point? How in the world had Levi allowed himself to get to this point? He didn’t even drink, with tea being his go-to beverage. His uncle was the alcohol guy. And Moblit, calm and normally shy Moblit, how the hell did he get to this? Hange knew he was accustomed to drinking, so he had an incredibly high alcohol tolerance. So for him to get wasted like this must have taken a hideous amount of alcohol consumption. Which meant that whatever Moblit had drunk Levi had as well.

“Ah, you’re finally here,” Mikasa appeared next to her, holding up her phone and recording the entire… situation. Hange gaped at her, still dumbfounded at the sight in front of them. Mikasa gave a deep breath, obviously trying to hold in her laughter, “They’ve been quite lonely without you.”

“What. The. Hell. Happened?” Hange asked, appalled. She was so damn close to breaking down in tears. Both good and bad.

At the last word, Levi let out a large groan and exclaimed, “Hangeeee if you don’t come back here with your shitty ass glassesssss I’m gonna dump you and date Berner insteaddddd!” he slurred, punching the air and then passing out next to Moblit, right on the pool of vomit they created together.

“Oh wow, the boomer is gonna replace you after just one night with another guy? What a joke.” Mikasa scoffed, fiddling with her scarf and shaking a little bit from quiet laughter. “I don’t think they’ll be waking up anytime soon.”

It was quiet for a few seconds as some of the staff started to clean up the mess, only leaving the bodies untouched before the shock finally left her body and Hange found her voice: “You gave them Spirytus Vodka mixed with rum, didn’t you?”

“Yep.”

“And you recorded the entire thing?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And you know what my email address is?”

“Yes. I’ll also send you the YouTube link later tonight.”

“You know he’s going to come after you, right?”

“But I have you as a backup.”

“Touche.”

“Can you run me through the story of how they ended up like this?” Hange asked, looping her arm with the younger Ackerman.

“Sure,” Mikasa said, turning off her recording and leading Hange to the bar. “Pina Colada?”

“And some cheesy fries.”

Hange didn’t need to worry about those two. There’d be enough pictures and videos about them tomorrow on social media. Though, she was rather worried at the prospect of her best friend stealing her boyfriend from her. Now that would be a really difficult situation.

#levihansecretsanta #levihanss2020 #im sorry this took a while #i was highkey intimidated #and my brain stopped working #you really pulled me into levihan with your amazing fics and im so grateful to you #you're such an incredible writer <3 #dont mind me just fangirling in the tags #hope you had a great holiday season!#fanfiction #fanfic #levihan #my work

78 notes · View notes

cruddyborderlandstheories · 3 years

Text

[takes a deep breath in]

And another thing

If the Destroyer ate people and gained their smarticle particles then why did it fall for the most basic trap in the beginner's hunting book or whatever idk I don't hunt

Like okay

It eats entire civilizations, says the eridians

It takes all that intelligence for itself, says the Eridians

We've gotta trap it, they say

But this is a dummy easy trap to spot, they say

Let's give it bait, they say, and look pointedly at Nyriad but her eyes are empty, so they sigh and resign themselves to their job

And then they go party inside Pandora and the Destroyer actually goes in to eat them while Nyriad sits on Nekrotefeyo while she closes a big vault with glowing magic siren hands

What.

(how she knew when to close it with the machine when she was halfway across the galaxy I genuinely have no idea but that's not that implausible given the Eridian tech we've already seen, so I ignore it)

Anyway

Ur telling me. That this big tentacle monster thing with the knowledge of multiple, entire civilizations (billions probably trillions of minds) combined somehow couldn't spot that obvious trap and maybe instead of going inside didn't just put a few tentacles in to grab some folk

Like its big ol brain wasn't like

'Hm. If I go in to this suspicious enclosed space after these people, it might be a trap and I might get stuck here. I should wait outside'

The way the *situation* is described it sounds like nothing more than a big mouth attached to what amounts to a predator animal that can be tricked with basic traps

Put the food in the box, when it goes in the box, shut the lid. Trapped.

Which might not even be true, because the Eridians tell (ha.) Nyriad to specifically note that it is smart enough to not be tricked by traps, unless the bait is good enough

So I have a few branching theories

The first is the basic 'the Eridians lied to Nyriad (what else is new) and the Destroyer really was a thing that just ate a bunch to the detriment of everything around it and the Eridians used Pandora + the machine to send themselves back to their home dimension while making it look like they sacrificed themselves to trick humanity'

this is sorta kinda backed up by my write up on how tychos ribs might be the actual Vault entrance, with the eridium keeping it open and how when you enter you're clearly in another dimension and not inside a moon (there are not galaxies inside moons afaik that's probably a space issue there) and how the giant eridium crystal isn't necessarily the Vault despite being named it, just a part of it that lets the Sentinel act with more power and control the area (like a simulation the VHs entered, which I insist was expanded on with the claptastic voyage dlc). I'm saying like in tps, you enter the main vault thru the elevator and thus there is no big 'walks thru a portal' situation, u just take an elevator down. Same with when u enter Pandora as a Vault. It's not a huge thing, you just enter it from one side and boom suddenly youre in another dimension. Which the Eridians most likely are from, anyway, given Nekrotefeyo means First Landing in their language. (Also how a lot of the names of locations in the Machine are about a home)

Second part that backs it up is when you open the Vault of the Destroyer in BL1, that's definitely one of those Vault traveling film things in between those rocks. It's not a big canyon like you see on Pandora in 3 that Tyreen just jumps into (see above). So *that* Vault led to somewhere, and it led to the Destroyer (emergency human feeding port for some reason). Meaning there was at least one functional gateway between those two areas. The point is that there were ways to travel into and out of the Vault of the Destroyer, you didn't always need to crack Pandora open like an egg.

Also when Tannis uses the machine, she near immediately shows that it can just. Create portals. Gameplay/story convenience or not, thats a pretty big deal because if the machine was build solely to seal Pandora, why does it have the power to create portals between two places?? Couldn't they just. Teleport the Destroyer into Pandora with a well-placed portal then close Pandora real quick with the Machine and not have to all sacrifice themselves? Shit they could have even teleported the Destroyer inside then placed two looping portals, one at the exit and one in the far back so whenever it tried to go out the exit, it was sent back to the other side of the inside of Pandora until the machine worked its magic.... Or even if they did need to bait (no.) the Destroyer in, couldn't they just use the machine to teleport themselves back out then close the portal real quick. Yeahhhh. So anyway that's what I think actually happened, but back to their home dimension so Nyriad thinks they died. I don't think Nyriad really knew what she was doing with the machine, and Tannis is a tech whiz so I'm not surprised she immediately discovered this thing had other options built in. It's possible even that the guardian watching her was doing some stuff behind the scenes (have I ever mentioned I always assumed that was Scourge. Like. The way he speaks gives off that vibe that he saw what Nyriad did and is pissed about it).

Anyway the other theory is that the Destroyer was totally aware it was a trap, but decided the knowledge of the Eridians was worth the wait.

OK so. This one isn't as backed up as the other one, but essentially if this thing is as smart as we are lead by Nyriad to believe:

It eats entire civilizations -> it gains the knowledge from everything it eats -> it has the combined knowledge of entire civilizations

Then this thing ought to be like. Pretty fucking smart right??

So why would it let the Eridians lead it into a trap like that?? The only answer I can think of is that it wanted their knowledge. They're from another dimension (tho given one Typhon line so is the Destroyer? I think I remember that right??), they have this wacky tech, they're the ones that build the prison its about to enter, and the Guardians that will guard it

Getting that knowledge could have been worth it for the Destroyer for whatever reason. Other than, like, using that info to break out of prison and wildly miscalculating, idk, it didn't seem like it was building stuff and using big smarts to eat people, just sorta giving them the munch. It could have wanted info on the Guardians, since things clearly aren't what they seem with the Seer's dialogue, so maybe it's using whatever it learned about the Guardians to control or manipulate them into controlling and manipulating other people into opening the Vault

It could have been, if it's so damn smart and did actually eat the Eridians and gain their knowledge, biding its time and waiting for the perfect moment to escape. Idk how patient something that is described as endless hunger can be, but that's another option

Ofc there is always the option that the Destroyer was just having an off day, didn't consume any coffee shops that morning, just was too sleepy, saw the opportunity to eat an entire civilization of bug people, and went for it. Maybe it was just having a bad day idk.

Istillthinktheeridianscreatedandorbroughtthedestroyerhereandnowtheyrefleeingfromtheirmistakesandwatchingustoseewhathappens

OK byeeee

#Things I zone out about in the shower: Nyriad logs #borderlands #borderlands 3 #cruddy rambles

10 notes · View notes

lambourngb · 4 years

Text

Get me out of here - places to go when canon is complicated

It’s Day 3, time to celebrate those stories that I turn to when I can’t deal with canon, or when I don’t have the emotional energy to untangle all the emotions I have for what’s going on in canon. Alternative universes, the safe harbor for us. Below are a mix of rewrites of canon, remixes of canon, or out right not even set in Roswell- to fill every type distance you want from canon- from near to far.

The first story I’m reccing is a long one,- so pardon the very long review below.

my love is a life taker by @jocarthage (267,600) So one day, Jessi popped into discord to share a dream she had about timetravel and being able to save yourself in the past basically, particularly Alex getting to give his baby-self a hug, and we all went, “holy shit that’s a cool fic idea please write it!” and really reality sucks right now with quarantine and whatnot, so what better thing to do than follow a WIP? I can’t tell you how badly I needed to something to look forward to as I was staring down a milestone birthday with all my plans in tatters, and this story filled the void.

Okay- now about the actual story itself, the world building about time travel in this is incredible but easy to absorb. Jessi dumps you straight into the action in chapter 1 with Alex, at 28, assassinating an Iraqi intelligence agent in 2009 that averts a bomb that was planned on US forces. You learn so much about both the story-universe and Alex here- one, that even dressed in mask and killing someone, Alex is kind and uses morphine as an overdose and has arranged for his victim’s family to be compensated, you learn that time agents can only visit places they themselves have visited during that time, and Jesse Manes had dragged his son, who was ‘time aware’ to every place of war and ruin on the planet before he was 18 and that, Alex’s victim, even as he’s dying, recognizes what a shit childhood Alex had but that Alex doesn’t.

The next part is where Alex’s time crystal malfunctions, instead of returning him to 2018, it takes him to 1998 where an 8 year old Michael is getting beaten by his foster dad and Alex, out of his time line mysteriously, visible to only Michael, saves him, but only temporarily. We all know with abusers, until you’re out of the house, it’s just a matter of time before the next beating. However, with one act, Alex at 28 starts putting into action (even though he doesn’t recognize it at the time) the steps to save his own life as he works to save Michael from his childhood. Each mission, each jump through time, Alex meets Michael, always a year apart and only for 1000 seconds, or almost 17 minutes. Jessi takes you through some of the darkest points of US foreign policy, only as Alex takes control of his life, he also starts to change the missions, and change the world. The details of places, people, food, etc are authentic from the author’s experience, if you don’t click on the links at the end of the chapters and disappear down google-rabbit holes about the events in history, well- you’re made of stronger stuff than I am. There are lots of heavy subjects discussed, but there’s always care and honesty behind the intent. The way Michael grows, the way Alex grows, and of course the journey to the present time when they could be together? It’s like pining on steroids but it’s so wonderful. I wish I could pull out one thing that I loved in particular in this story- but it’s impossible, only to say that I love that I could disappear completely within the confines of ‘my love is a life taker’ knowing that I would be kept safe by the author, that goodness prevails.

 when I’m oceans away by @neapeaikea (28,000) this is a post-2008 shed canon-divergent AU where Alex Manes, after the best/worst night of his life bolts from Roswell and leaves Michael behind. 10 years later, on the hunt for a child conceived at Caulfield, Michael walks into a youth home in California and finds Alex. A few things, I love that this author writes an Alex who didn’t join the Air Force but still lost a leg, I don’t really enjoy disability erasure in modern AUs (I’m better at looking past that in historical or sci fi aus) . It’s pretty clear after five minutes that the connection between the two men is still there and strong despite anger, secrets and guilt. The teasing and flirting between them is great but so is the acceptance of baring their vulnerabilities. I loved the care they take with each other, and the tie in to an alien child is just so perfect.

Crucibles (series) @ninswhimsy (9,000)- I’m cheating and naming both here, but obviously nin had her finger on the pulse of fandom, by writing crusade-set queer stories before The Old Guard ever boomed into a fandom from the movie. I was lucky enough to trade DMs over the ideas of holiness and the body, and how Alex would have treated himself, certain of his doomed soul, and how Michael would have responded in turn. It’s no secret I love everything Nin writes, but this series stuck in my mind. I will be drifting off to sleep, and think about Alex walking through the ancient city of Aleppo, ready to be done with his burden and Michael there with soft palms and scented oil, and boom! I reach for my kindle to re-read it.

no regrets if we walk this new road by @andrea-lyn (97,000) This author has written so many amazing AUs, some quite far away from canon events like her Mummy AU or her Avengers AU, but I have to say, I have a very soft-spot for this rewrite of season 1 for a lot of reasons. I mean, it’s 2020, so my appetite for Cop!Max is definitely at an all-time low, so the idea of exchanging his job with Kyle’s was extremely appealing. At least Kyle is a POC holding the badge, not a white man like our canon. Anyway, politics aside, this story is special to me for the scorching good Isobel/Kyle relationship that develops, the way Isobel sharpens herself into a lawyer (not an event planner) and how Michael rounds his own edges off in turn by becoming a teacher (and being secretly married). Each deviation from canon made complete sense once you alter the way Rosa’s death affects the pod squad, and how they covered it up ripples out toward Liz, Kyle, etc.

 Layer on layer, down on down by @dotsayers (9,440) I love sci-fi tropes, especially time-loops, but they are incredibly hard to write (I know, I abandoned mine a while ago) so this story stands out because of just how well done the execution is and also the angst. Michael in a time loop about Caulfield, like how great/agonizing is that? The plot is so good, how it ties into Caulfield and why it happens in the first place, like wow. The care, and the hurt, and the fatigue that Michael has in this story, oh you just want to wrap him in a blanket. There’s a tiny throwaway line about how one of the first things Michael learned to do in foster care was to make himself heavy and unmovable- and you instantly picture kid!Michael not wanting to be removed from a house - like my heart broke! The structure of the story, with the background of his just how much he loves Alex but how badly it hurts to see him die, really makes this study of 1x12 special. Along with all the angst, there’s tiny gallows humor lines, so am I weird, that I laughed through a couple of these scenes even as Michael kept dying?

Petty pace by @aewriting (11,600) Aewriting has a couple of stellar AUs, so trying to pick just one was difficult, but I rather feel this story is sadly underappreciated it (mind the tags). It was a remix of @iwontbeyourmedicine ‘s fantastic ‘Freaky Friday’, where the humans and aliens swap roles. Alex in the role of Michael basically was something I had never pictured until Ly wrote that story, and now feel utterly changed by it, especially with this backstory- the idea of Jesse Manes bringing a foster child home? Incredibly well done because there’s an off the charts level of menace in this story. The way Jesse watches Alex, who at first mistakes it for how a pedophile might size up a victim, but then catches on quickly that it’s so much worse in a lot of ways. And Alex is such a loner in the beginning, even as he reconnects with his pod siblings Liz and Maria, he’s still planning on keeping his head down and leaving Roswell far behind. Like freedom is literally the only thing he can conceive of for himself, no real dreams outside of that until Michael slips under his defenses. I probably could have saved this story for angst day- because the second half of the story, if you don’t sob while you read it, then I dunno. It’s helpful to read Ly’s story right afterward as a reminder that things do get better for Alex ten years later. In a lot of ways this story is sadder than canon (though there’s no murder of Rosa/4th alien), I’m comforted that at least Alex has Liz in the aftermath, alike in heartache in a way that Michael didn’t have because of the pact he and Max made about Isobel in canon.

Unexpected tidings by @bestillmyslashyheart (24,800) Another rewrite of canon, that explores a couple of very interesting questions, like what would it look like if Michael never made it back to Roswell as a kid but met Alex by chance in 2008? Imagine the cornerstone of the Lost Decade love affair revolving around the mundane questions of a long distance relationship that wasn’t built on the pain of the shed or Rosa’s death? Marlo writes an amazing take on this, that is both real and deep with the normal couple problems, before introducing that spanner in the works of oh yeah, aliens are real. With Michael on the east coast, and Alex finishing off his service in Roswell, Project Shepherd still entangles Alex with Liz bringing him in on the secret in hopes that with his hacker skills he can track down the third alien child that Max and Iz remember so they can warn him. As interesting as the current plot was, I found myself absolutely revitted the slow piecemeal reveals that Marlo doled out about Alex and Michael’s relationship over time. (I also while rereading this recently got very nostaglic for season 1 Alex who didn’t trust Jesse as far as he could toss him.)

Don’t Punish Me For What I Feel by @winged-fool (3,600) Tarsus IV AU - another wonderful author with a catalog of great AUs, both sci-fi and dark, and honestly it was difficult to narrow it down to one. This story, well in 2009 I was a hard core Trek movie fan, so when I saw a trek-fusion story appear, I knew I would love it just on that basis. The thing is, this gave me Michael as the Captain, a surprisingly rare role for these space fusions, even though genius level repeat offender Jim Kirk and genius level repeat offender Michael Guerin seems pretty married in my mind as a connection. As a Tarsus-like story, all the tags are well earned by the story that Alex finally shares with Michael. It hit on so many levels, the hurt/comfort level for sure, but also to have a story where Michael is this stalwart protector of Alex was really nice to find.

this isn’t the ‘holiday best friends championship’ by @usbournejez (6,090) alright to leave this on a lighter note, my final AU rec is this masterpiece by Kieran that was part of Malex Secret Santa gift fics- and what a gift it was to all of us! The way she writes established Malex is first-rate, because she always includes their canon-levels of snark/sharpness but it’s never directed at each other and that’s something I love. Here we have Alex, where we learn in just a few short lines, is a huge control freak but has the extremely big emotional handicap, and that’s his love/fondness/deserve to caretake Michael. Emotional cactus Alex who is soft for Michael? Love it. There are small drops of angsty backstory peppered in this, but really that just fuels just how sweet and wonderful the main theme of the story- which is Alex might hate the whole world at large, he loves, protects and worships Michael (and vice versa). As someone who can bake cookies, but that’s about it, I was still enthralled with the baking details and this story has never failed to encourage me to eat dessert before dinner basically.

#rnmcreate2020 #malex fic #roswell new mexico #malex fic rec #malex #MALEX FEELS #michael guerin #alex manes #fandom positivity #worship our great authors in this fandom #can we pretend it's Wednesday?#a day late and a dollar short #working on today's now!

40 notes · View notes

capricornus-rex · 4 years

Text

Someone Left to Save (15)

Cal Kestis x Reader

Requested by Anon

Summary: The Mantis crew arrives to the capital of Ulfin, in the planet of Pevera, under siege. They meet the local rebel cell spearheaded by the former Republic admiral, Jax Beneb, who seeks to destroy the Empire’s occupation that was aggressively imposed upon while exploiting the planet of its natural resources. A plan is devised to destroy the Imperial’s main base of operations—as well as their influence—in the planet; however, it was a do-or-die mission that you and Cal had gotten yourselves caught in.

A/N: I’m almost done!! :D This was really a trip both in the story itself and getting the chapters published. Thank you to everyone who kept staying tuned to the story even if my predicament forced me to slow down my upload frequency. If you guys enjoyed most of the story, then all the trouble I went through was worth it! :3

Tags: Force-Sensitive! Reader, Inquisitor! Reader, Jedi! Reader, Fake Death, Jedi turned Inquisitor, Seduction to the Dark Side, Turn to the Dark Side, The Dark Side of the Force, Aftermath of Torture, Torture, Psychological Torture, Redemption Arc! Reader, Possible Redemption, Premonitions

Also in AO3

Chapters: 1 �� 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 – 8 – 9 – 10 – 11 – 12 – 13 | Previous: Part 14 | Next: Part 16 | Masterlist

15 of ?

The plan's going swimmingly. Cal hasn't been caught yet.

He had sensed that Cere prayed he needn't to use his saber prior to his inevitable stand-off with you. So far, he's keeping true to that prayer. He carves a path to the nearest entrance he can find, from there, he discovers the southern exit; taking the posted Stormtroopers by surprise, he incapacitated them quickly befire they even realize what's standing in front of them.

"Cere, I'm in the building—I went through the southern entrance," Cal softly spoke through his comm.

"Copy, I found my way in the eastern wing," Cere explains that she managed to get her hands on one of the computers, splice it and fish out a lot of info. "I'm patching in the map to you, BD should've picked up the file by now."

Instinctively, BD-1 flashes the holomap in the air as soon as he received the data; it shows the locations of Cere, Cal, and their two respective destinations—the medical bay where the child is kept and the hangar where the presumed transport ship should be parked. There's a large, empty gap between where Cal stood and the hangar itself.

"I'm looking at the map now. There's a bit of distance to the hangar, it's on the upper levels too," he softly trailed off at the last word.

Cere noted the fading out of his voice, afraid that she's lost contact, "Cal?"

The boy blinked several times to return to reality. He stutters in his apology for spacing out.

"What's wrong?"

Finally, he opens up about his theory about the transport ship, he adds the lone TIE Fighter he spotted earlier and the underlying possibility that the pilot is you—not knowing that you really are. Cere considers the theory but preferred to go with the original plan; if the transport is truly a decoy, then they'll have to move fast in catching up to you before you even hop into the TIE Fighter with the child—assuming that your TIE Fighter is in a completely different hangar.

The silence of their conversation's conclusion was followed by the gloomy, ominous humming of the corridor that laid in front of Cal's eyes. The stale air that entered his lungs put a tugging weight on him, this place carries a certain degree of corruption that it's simply foreboding to anybody—most especially the Jedi. The sole thought of rescuing you is what kept Cal going; he stalked through the corridor, feeling for any activity in the intersections before going around the next corner.

Eventually, he's halfway into his destination but it seems Cere still hasn't put her diversion in motion.

Cal peeks over the corner to find a cluster of Stormtroopers—a mix of regulars and scouts—in his path. Two scouts block the path midway while the rest of them stay by the door at the end. He hugs the wall, tugs the saber off of his belt, he stares at the weapons around his clammy fingers; after one deep breath, he bolted out of nowhere and rammed his way through, the dazed troopers barely made a proper aim—some cut close to Cal, others he banked right away.

"It's a Jedi!" One trooper yelped the obvious.

The redheaded Jedi spotted one of the troopers making a run for a button on the wall. Outstretching his arm with his open palm, he hauled that particular trooper away from the button and then towards him, within a saber's reach he was cut down.

"I can't do this by myself!" The surviving scout trooper whimpered out loud, the warble in his voice huffing through his helmet.

The poor scout braved in charging towards Cal, charging up the electric current on his baton, but was denied a shot by a single, successful parry and then the Jedi followed up with an attack—cutting the enemy down instantly. He now stands before a large, sealed door, he checks the map once more and sees the distance between him and the hangar has shrunken. In the next second, a blaring alarm howling across the complex startled him.

"That ought to be Cere, I hope she has the kid."

Upon opening the door, Cal discovers the elevator lobby—which also serves as a control room. Two troopers had their backs turned to him, manning the computers, while a single KX security droid paces back and forth but its scanners immediately detect Cal's presence—causing its head to jerk to the boy's direction, while its emotionless eyes lit up the moment it saw Cal, the troopers felt the abrupt rise of tension and were alerted by the sight of a Jedi in the room.

"Inferior Jedi!" The KX droid monotonously groaned as it raises a pair of fists, ready to swing it down and bash the Jedi's skull.

Fortunately, Cal evaded the clobber and singes the droid's leg joints, literally bringing it to its knees. Shielding itself with its arms proved useless as the Jedi slices the torso in half, leaving only himself and the troopers. The skirmish was done in five minutes, the boy scrambles to the elevator and slams the button of the hangar's floor number. As the turbolift ascends, Cal takes the time to check on Cere, he kept calling, but there was no answer and he gives up when the elevator gradually slowed down.

The rumble signaled that he's reached his destination, the narrow door retracted into the frame, revealing Cal the vast space of the hangar—each wall was lined with light to medium ships, sitting at the center of the hangar is a transport ship, his ears prick up at the faint wailing of a child.

"Oh no…" he thought. "Cere's too late!"

He ran to the ship, the wailing got louder, then his eyes widened at the discovery: a comlink lies on the floor of the entry ramp, a prerecorded soundbite of the cry plays on loop.

It's a trap!

Behind his head, the baritone humming of a spinning saber flings itself towards him, he spun and deflected it at the nick of time—returning it to the sender: you, perched atop the hangar platform, waiting for your prey to take the bait and then strike. You catch your saber in mid-air while descending from the upper platform with a feathery grace. Striding closer to him, he sees you completely without the helmet for the first time: hair fashioned into an elaborate braid, the tail rests on one shoulder, and loose, wispy fringes frame your face.

"I see you've set off my trap," you pointed out, holding the saber close to your face.

"I knew you'd pull a stunt like that!"

Your eyes lit up, impressed with Cal, "Well, you've become quite smarter than I expected!"

Both Inquisitor and Jedi circled slowly against one another, not knowing who's chasing whom, gentle threats exchange with pleas of coming home only to be received with a hard "no," the tension grows in this wide, open space. Cal decides it's now or never, he attempts to talk it out of you.

"[Y/N], let's come home,"

"This is my home."

He hints at the somber tone of your sentence, almost as if you don't mean it at all, and he believed the insincerity of those words. You mask the denial by making the first move in the fight. The swirl of blades caught Cal off-guard, resulting to a flimsy block on his end; he moved away from the ship, luring you into the wider space for a better fight, not that it changes much on each other's chances of winning this skirmish.

You barely paused from moving—a tireless lightning rod in human form—the swordfight pressed on in the hangar. For each time Cal struggled to put some distance between you so he can take a second to breathe, you always caught up to him—your frenzied eyes were always the first thing he notices the moment you start to dart towards him, with your arm prepped for an overhead strike and ready to attack. The strike lands, you withdrew and quickly follow up with another—thrusting your saber, he parried it with a subpar flourish and you staggered him with a strong Force push.

The boy flies to the farther side of the room, in your peripheral vision his lightsaber clatters away from him, his hand desperately pats the floor in search of the weapon while he had his eyes glued to you—closing the space at a fast rate. Still lying on his back, he affords a split second to catch a glimpse of his saber and pull it towards him; his own blade hovers mere inches above his neck when your strike landed as you crouch on top of him, bearing your weight on him while you've got him pinned down.

"I almost kind of like this position!" You crowed mischievously.

"[Y/N], please!" He pleaded again.

Without your helmet, Cal saw the life in your eyes better—if he saw wrath the first time, now he sees the misplaced anger and sorrow, the exact same feeling he found during his meditation. He even spots a hint of pink swelling beneath the rims of your eyes.

Has she been… crying? He pondered in that small window of time.

"You don't have to do this—your pain isn't strength!"

Your eyes flared again, but with denial you bellowed, "You don't understand the power that the Dark Side has given me!"

Generously, you withdrew, flipping away from him and landing in the same cat-like grace, giving him a chance to scramble back up on his feet. There was a time for a breather, enough for both. Again, the two of you slowly circle one another while a hostile air hangs over your heads, you point your saber at him.

"I didn't want to be as weak as I was before," you gesture your arms wide open. "And here I am."

"The [Y/N] I know was never weak to begin with,"

You paused in your tracks, slowly angled your head to face Cal, absorbing the empathetic gentleness in his voice. He could make his way through your heart faster than you could build a wall between the two of you. Unconsciously, the atmosphere seems to turn docile.

"I hate it when you patronize me!"

As quick as lightning, you attempt to execute a dashed strike but this time, Cal was prepared for it and he had been anticipating such an attack—he's been reading your every move up until you paused to banter with him. You strike again.

One.

Two.

Slash.

And another.

You jab, but he blocks. Another, and he prevails.

Eventually, he gathered enough strength and momentum, and became at par with the pace and dexterity of your technique. The clashing of sabers became more violent and heavier as the moves from both Jedi and Inquisitor became more pronounced—a contest of brute force. This sudden burst of strength wasn't much of a surprise, you keep up the assault and Cal surely isn't backing down—nor does he plan to.

A single beep of his comlink rings, "Cal, the child is secure! I'm coming for you!"

Cal saw your wide, aghast eyes glimmering with fear and panic, and perhaps a desperation that translates to "I need that child back!" which he felt all at once in that piercing glare when you shot him a look—with your bared teeth and furrowed eyebrows. Heeding to your lessons you, weaponized your emotions against the Jedi, you became a dagger in the wind—amplifying the heaviness of your strikes when it lands and the litheness of your body when eluding his saber.

Cere comes rushing into the hangar, saber and blaster in each hand, reassuring Cal in mere seconds that the child has been brought home.

"The Mantis should be on its way here by now," Cere whispered, her voice shuddered at the words.

She glanced to her side and then fixated her eyes to you—dressed in Inquisitor's garments from the neck down. In your periphery, you saw her blaster hand tremble with fearful disbelief; a secretive smirk played on the corner of your lip, as if to ridicule her shock, her first-time reaction amused you.

"Long time, no see, Cere." You crooned.

"[Y/N], good gods…"

"Oh come now, don't act so surprised. This is your second time anyway!"

A second Jedi wasn't any difficult, thought it's a fresh challenge instead of the typical one-on-one.

"Amazing, I get the privilege of seeing a cut-off Jedi fight firsthand!"

During Cere's attack that you held in a block, you examined Trilla's hilt up close—she had likened it with her old hilt by covering the sleeve with leather wrappings—you glanced at yours in its original form: blood red beams gleaming menacingly on either end, mingling with the purified, ice white blades.

You had to give Cere some credit, even after all these years of being voluntarily cut off from the Force, her muscle memory of combat is intact, incorporating her rugged style with a blaster.

"Impressive," you hummed after a parrying strike, and then another. She quickly switched to her blaster and shot twice, much to her dismay you've banked them seamlessly. "Most impressive."

Cere comes charging at you, ready for a jab, and you'd parry; just when Cal thought you have your attention to her, he attacks—more or less, attempt to—from behind but you duck and twirl, evading his lightsaber and planting a kick on his shin. This dynamic of alternating between the two Jedis lasted for more than a minute, a medley of attack patterns used against you—a handful of which have dealt damage on you, some missed you, but you enjoyed this death-defying thrill, it livened you up in this dull hangar.

Your mischievous, insidious grin stretched across your face melted when the entire hangar rumbled under your boots, explosions roared behind your ears; while holding your ground, you turned to find the source of the sound and found portions of the building are being reduced to shrapnel and inferno. Cere steals your smile and paints it with triumph on; you're not even that mad, you shoot her with a snarl of your lip, catching on with her little game, all the while impressed.

"Oh joy, you'll experience how I actually nearly died!"

You pulled away violently from the tangle of blades, pommeled Cere across the jaw with your own hilt, and pushed her at a certain distance.

"[Y/N]!!"

As the ceiling above your heads crumbled and rained dust, your lightning-fast flurry of the lightsaber did not waive; the boy didn't want to be outmatched—he cannot afford to, now that they're all standing inside a building on the verge of collapse—his dexterity and nimbleness spiked, adapting to your own caliber. Cal wanted to finish this as soon as possible, and he had to think fast; in his peripheral vision, he sees Cere bringing herself back up on her feet, dazed from your hit across her face, and then understood the gravity of her damage.

The garrison begins to collapse, any moment the entire roof will fall over your heads if neither Jedi nor Inquisitor shall stand victorious in this duel. In a final, colossal clash of lightsabers, both youngsters were encased in the sheen of their luminous weapons.

“[Y/N], come on, let’s go home,” Cal pleads once more.

“I can’t—” you choked, tears didn’t hide themselves from Cal, they streamed down your cheek as the stability of your grip fluctuated—influenced by the medley of emotions storming every fiber of your being. “I don’t belong there anymore!”

Despite the sheer intensity, Cal’s voice remained soft and gentle to you, as it always has. In a last-minute resort, he encourages, “You always have belonged with us, and we’re waiting for you to come home.”

Another tear streaks your face, your eyelids drooped, and then spoke in the most defeated, somber tone.

“It’s too late for me now, Cal.”

The crumbling ceiling groans, your eyes roll up and saw the reinforcement beam give way to two colossal chunks of debris plummet in a 50-foot drop from the ceiling straight down to a docked TIE Fighter.

“CAL, LOOK OUT!”

He didn’t fully see your reaction at the last minute; you pull him in and then push him away, but in turn,you got yourself closer to the blast radius. The hot wind picked you up into the air and flung your to the floor like a ragdoll, hitting your head upon landing, rendering you unconscious.

“[Y/N], NO!”

A sharp, piercing noise shrilled in Cal’s ears—all the other noises and voices are reduced to echoing gibberish, even Cere’s calling of your names—straight ahead, he saw you lying unconscious on the floor, covered in debris. He desperately crawled towards you, blatantly ignoring the hollow calls ringing behind his ears; he cradled you in his arms, ignoring the crackling heat flaring near his cheeks.

“[Y/N], come on…” he stuttered. “[Y/N], stay with me… I’m not leaving you a second time!”

He shakes you to coax you into waking up, he could’ve sworn he felt your body shuffle in reaction, he placed his forefinger and middle finger on your neck and found a pulse. He snaps his fingers and BD pops out a stim, he injects it straight into the flesh of your upper arm—you jolted and sucked in a lot of air at the same time, as if emerging into the surface from underwater.

Indeed, you were alive, but relatively weakened by the blast. Your voice saying Cal’s name was drowned out by the roaring flames and the thundering collapse of the garrison.

“Cal, we have to go now!”

Bursting with adrenaline, he scoops you up into his arms and followed Cere to the escape route; evading all the explosions as much as possible and keeping the enemy encounters to a minimum. Although, the evacuees are confused whether to engage the intruders—and presumably, in their heads, rescue the Inquisitor from the Jedi, but they’re felled by either the blasts or Cere’s blaster.

Speeding through the corridors, Cere led Cal to an open docking platform. The Mantis waits at the edge of the catwalk in a fly-by, lightly swerving to dodge blaster fire from the ground, and the entry ramp hangs open.

“Come on, you guys!” shrieked Greez.

Merrin waited by the frame of the entry ramp, the strong wind of the ship and the environment whip her fringes as she feels for balance while getting farther out. On the other hand, Cere and Cal—with you still in his arms—are almost to the edge of the catwalk.

“Come on, you have to jump!” cried out Merrin from the ramp.

Cal assessed the gap between the platform and the ship, it was a risky jump—one miscalculated step equaled to a hundred-foot doom.

“They’re gaining on us!” Cal screeched.

“You go on ahead, I’ll cover you and catch up!”

The boy paced back for momentum, buckled his knees when he slightly crouched, he fixed his grip tighter on you, and trusted his heels as he propelled the balls of his feet off the floor. The Mantis hovers at a considerable height by the edge of the catwalk that won’t send anyone hanging onto the edge of the ramp for dear life.

The soles of his boots planted flat on the metal floor and briskly trotted inside, settling you down gently on the couch, and then he joins Merrin by the ramp, watching Cere blast at the incoming Stormtroopers.

“Cere, let’s go!”

The woman produced a detonator out of her belt pouch and set it off. As a finisher, she gathered all the strength in her throwing arm, the bomb rolled towards the Stormtroopers’ feet and encased them in a cloud of fire and smoke. She quickly turned tail and made the jump, she scrambled on fours to get inside the ship and Cal slams the door button once she’s in.

“Punch it, Greez!”

Greez cranked the hyperdrive lever and sent the Mantis flying out of Jeddah, leaving the garrison crumbling to its destruction in their wake.

31 notes · View notes

ladyhallen · 5 years

Text

Stormbringer

part 1| part 2| part 3

Amidst the carnage, one building stood out for how undamaged it was.

Fon stares.

He didn’t usually indulge in knock-out drag-down brawls the way most people with Storm Flames did. It caused too many casualties and made the sour taste of guilt well up in his stomach after he’d seen the damages.

Of course, he was usually well away by the time the haze of Storm-frenzy left him, so the guilt wasn’t usually severe, but this time.

This time, he’s still on site when the haze leaves him and he sees the most definitely destroyed town.

Thankfully, there’s not much dead, given that it’s in the middle of the afternoon and everyone would be at work and not at home.

But. That’s one pristinely undamaged building.

Its taking Fon’s attention from what pissed him off in the first place and he knows it. He focuses his energy on it so he doesn’t slip under again.

“What in the world?” he asks.

He blinks, allowing Storm Flames to coat his eyeballs for a moment and... There’s no signs of Mist tampering on the building, or any other Flame help. It’s just standing all by itself, having survived Fon’s rampage where all its other fellows did not.

Curiosity gets the better of him and he enters the building. He’s aware that he should be well away from the town before the authorities and curious reporters arrive but peeking would only take a moment.

A bell jingles merrily when he opens the door, at complete odds with how grimy and blood stained he is. The inside is just as pristine and untouched as the outside, the shelves lined with small boxes, and those boxes filled with shining gems.

A...a trinket shop? A trinket shop managed to withstand his overwhelming Storm Flames untouched?

“Welcome to Harry’s Emporium of Charms, Luck or Otherwise!” a petite woman greets from the counter with a smile. “What are you seeking, stranger and how may I help you?”

The foreigner didn’t even bat an eye at the blood on his clothes, or the bloody knuckles that were slowly dripping blood on her clean floor. She just gave him a soft smile, patiently waiting.

“I was...curious,” Fon says. He eyed her dark hair thoughtfully. She looked as innocuous as her store, but the look in her light eyes told him that if he tried anything here, he would not be coming out of it unscathed.

“That is one reason to enter the Emporium,” she answers. “But what are you seeking, stranger?”

Fon remembers why he was angry in the first place and red filled his vision again before he quelled it forcefully. It took several deep breaths before he could remember where he was again.

“I need,” he says with carefully leashed violence. “Something to help me keep my temper. I am somewhat prone to loosing it when something triggers me. Other than that, I am mostly calm.”

“Mostly,” she agrees, for the first time making a reference to what he’d done outside. “What do you say you need more though, Reason or Patience?”

Other people asking this would get Dragon punched into the next life. The woman, however, wasn’t asking out of schadenfreude, or the intent to use it against him later.

“A mix of both,” he says.

She gets up from behind her table and went to one of the many boxes lining the walls of her store. She chooses three charms and, after a long thoughtful look at him, a sturdy looking red thread.

“You use your body often,” she says, more to herself than to him, glancing at his bloodied knuckles and bruised wrists, “And you would object to having your ears pierced, of course.”

Fon nods. He watched her fingers deftly twist the wire into shapes, looping it through one stone, then another, adding a decorative bead that shone, adding the last stone and somehow making it beautiful.

“What do you think about bells?” she asked again, producing a box of bells of all shapes and sizes from under the table.

He likes bells. But given his work, it would be inadvisable to wear one. With a pained expression, he tells her so.

But the woman isn’t deterred. “Try one,” she says, holding out the box to him.

Just to please her, he takes the smallest one and shakes it, releasing a small chiming sound that...sounded five seconds after he shook it.

“How,” he gasps out in shock.

Her smile is cat-like. “Trade secret. So. A yes for the bells?”

He nods. She adds it to the charm and it looked incredibly beautiful. Even if her charm turned out to be a hoax, he would still wear it.

“Where?” he asks.

She gestures to his hair and he realizes that the long tail he usually wore it in had slipped loose. She’d included a long, slightly elastic end that he used to tie his hair up, slipping his old hair tie into his pocket.

Impossibly, he felt calmer the second he placed his hands down. The bells jingled when he moved his head, the slight delay unnoticeable unless one was using the sound to track him down.

He breathes and didn’t feel the rage shimmering under his skin. Instead, it banked available until he deliberately called it.

“How much do I owe you?” he asks.

The amount she said was a more pittance compared to the peace of mind he would have for as long as the charm would last.

“A year,” she answers when he asked if he should get another one. Then, she looks at him closely. “Maybe less. You are...very powerful.”

He buys five more. Just in case.

Fon leaves the store, mood considerably brighter than when he entered it. That is, until he saw the police outside.

Fon didn’t tell anyone about the charms, or the woman who sold it to him.

He did get a reputation as the Eye of the Storm for how calm he could get, right until he eviscerated someone with a smile.

He did, however, drop by her shop whenever he had time. He owes her too much just to disappear on her.

Not that she took it that way.

“Welcome to Harry’s Emporium of – oh for goodness sake, it’s you again,” Harry cut off her spiel, looking exasperated and annoyed.

“Hello Harry,” he greets her with a slight bow and the chime of bells. “I bought you cake.”

She huffs and puts down the wire cutter, turning around to put the kettle on.

“What were you going to do with the wire cutter?” he asks, placing the box down on her working table.

“I was working on a commission, I would have you know,” she says. “Because I don’t just sit around and hope someone comes in.”

That is a sore point for her, given that he’d asked her that in one of his visits. How is he supposed to know that is insulting?

Her irritation melts the moment she opens the box. “Lemon cake! This will go well with some of that tea you gave me. I still have some left.”

She bustles around him and Fon feels the tension gathered around his shoulders bleed out. Harry exuded that incredibly calming presence that he’d never found anywhere else, not even those with Rain Flames or Sky Flames.

It was that surety of where she stood in the world, that confidence that no matter what would happen, she’d still be standing afterward. It was incredibly attractive to Fon, who only had the clothes on his back, and the orders of his Master to fall back on. Everything he had belonged to the Triads.

He would stock up on the calm Harry exuded until the next visit.

“Thanks for coming to visit,” Harry tells him after the cake had been eaten and the remainder packed away inside her little kitchen. She hands him a packet of cookies that is tied with another charm for luck. Harry keeps giving them away, it is a wonder she still made a profit. “I’ll miss you,” she sighs.

Fon would admit that he is an oblivious bastard. But even he could hear what she means with those words.

It takes all he has not to kiss her. It is too soon, and she doesn’t need the kind of man that would only show up sporadically.

“I’ll miss you too,” he sighs out, putting his forehead against hers, looking into her eyes. This close, he could see that they are a light color, green with flecks of gold and blue. It is incredibly enchanting and he could stare at them for hours.

But the appointment with Checkerface is waiting, as well as the promise of a challenge.

“I’ve got to go,” he murmurs.

Harry lets out a hitched breath when he releases her and Fon closes his eyes against the sheer need that flooded him.

#fanfiction #fon #Harry Potter #hp #khr #hpxkhr #crossover #romance #angst #it might happen #don't doubt me #i'll torture fon terribly #mutual pining #fanfiction: stormbringer #genderbend #hpxfon #arcobaleno

459 notes · View notes

war-sword · 4 years

Text

2019 Draco/Reader Secret Santa Fic Exchange - A Flurry of Memories

summary: Christmastime has always help many memories for Y/N, but now so many of them are imbued with Draco Malfoy, it’s hard to think of much else. A/N: ahhahahaha holy fuck. so i went back and forth between 2 versions of this fic for a couple of weeks before picking this one and i wrote the majority of the 2k in about... 3 hours. so. take what you will.thank you to bae aka @eltanin-malfoy for organizing this exchange!!! i hope you enjoy! prompt: first snowfall words: 2.6k taglist: @clockworkherondale @accio-rogers @mayorofzillyhoo @diademofdraco @drawlfoy @ladybuginthetardis @silversslytherin @lushlavenderskies @socontagiousimagines @acciodracoo

◈◈◈

A drop of wine made its way down the side of the bottle, ending it’s journey by staining the napkin below with a bloody star burst. Y/N tapped the top of her glass with her nail, listening to the gentle ring as she gazed out the window. It had begun to snow– the first of the season.

Y/N was desperately trying to get into the holiday spirit, and she grabbed her wand with her free hand to point it at her gramophone in the corner to flip her Celestina Warbeck holiday record. The needle landed gently on the b-side and “Merry Christmas, Happy Goblin Days” started with a quiet crackle. A song that would normally make her want to get up and sing, only coaxed a sigh from her.

Christmas used to be a fun time when she was in school. Large parties at the family estates, wearing fancy dresses and stuffing themselves silly with horderves. Sneaking into their father’s studies to snoop through the drawers before running away giggling, Ms. Zabini’s extravagant gifts of fine jewelry that every year got more stunning. Loading their pockets with olives and crackers, and braving the cold outside to try and coax the Malfoy’s albino peacocks close enough to stroke. And the one year they all stayed at Hogwarts during the Triwizard Tournament, it’s own league of fun and dressing up.

And then she remembers no Christmas parties at all.

Now she has no big house to live in, no fun parties to go to, and the first night she needs to build a fire in her little house always stirs up feelings of nostalgia and longing. It’s annoying to feel depressed for no reason, but almost just as annoying when she realizes, year after year, it’s about how winter reminds her of him.

The dregs at the bottom of Y/N’s glass have created interesting patterns. She doesn’t remember emptying her glass again. The snow outside is coming down in big flakes now, and her record has gone silent. She still has a few hours to kill before she needs to start dinner. Perhaps a walk in the fresh snow can get her out of her Christmas funk.

Y/N pulls on her boots and coat at the door. She decides a hat is in order with all this heavy precipitation, and reaches up to the top shelf in the hall closet to grab her warm knit one. Something else comes down with the hat, and a length of emerald fabric pools at her feet. At one end are the initials D.M. in elegant silver stitching. Y/N had forgotten she’d had this. She considers kicking to the back of the closet for a moment while her chest swirls with a concoction of emotions, before snatching up the scarf and looping it around her neck.

A scarf is a scarf, and it’s unfortunately as warm as she remembered.

Y/N and Pansy Parkinson laid side by side on the cold oak floors of Malfoy Manor, carefully monitoring the planks for creaking. “I haven’t heard anything for a few minutes,” Pansy whispers.

“Me either,” Y/N says back.

“Check the clock again.”

Y/N carefully moves herself into an upright position and pads across the floor to check the clock on the nightstand of the room she and Pansy are sharing for the night. Together, the hands read exactly twelve fourty-five. She pads back and lies down next to Pansy again, taking a moment to steady her breathing before relaying the information.

“Shall we go?”

Y/N bites her lip, pretending to contemplate. “Yes. Should we take a candle?”

“No, stipud, we have to go in the dark. The moon is out. We should be able to see.”

Y/N looks back at the bed to look at the lumps under the covers they had created with pillows, and then follows Pansy out into the hall. Sure enough, moonlight streaks through the windows. The girl’s socked feet make no sounds as they count the doors and go around the corner. When they reach Draco’s bedroom, they stop and hold their breath to listen at the door. Y/N can hear that Draco, Blaise, and Theo are still awake and talking.

Pansy gently knocks on the door three times, waits, and then another three times, before cracking it open so they can slip inside. Abandoning all care, they sprint the few steps into Draco’s room before launching onto the bed with their other friends. “We had to wait a little while longer,” Y/N explains, “Dobby was in the hall cleaning.”

Draco, who is perched atop a pillow and leaning against his elaborate headboard, rolls his eyes. “Stupid elf. He should be downstairs cleaning, where the party was, not up here. I can’t believe our family got stuck with such a useless one.”

“That’s why my mum just got rid of ours and hired a person,” Blaise says.

“I’ve told father we should do the same, but he insists that people are too inclined to snoop,” Draco’s eyes glint with importance. “At least house elves you can be sure they won’t tell anyone anything.”

Pansy nods along with Draco as he speaks. Y/N curls her feet under her and rearranges her nightgown about her legs. “Have you tried asking Dobby about the Heir of Slytherin? If he has been around your family for a long time, maybe he knows something.” Y/N tries to steer the conversation to what they were discussing before being sent to bed, a topic they all found very important and adult.

“I doubt he would’ve had access to important information like that, besides, it’s not me,” Draco says.

Blaise, Theo, and Pansy all do the same. “I don’t understand who it could be if it’s none of us. We’re the most important people in our house,” Theo says.

“Maybe it’s a Pureblood who got sorted into another house, and wants revenge on the sorting hat,” Pansy suggests.

Blaise wrinkles his nose. “Ew, like Weasley?”

They all laugh at that, and spend hours into the morning spinning increasingly wild theories, only to be found in a heap on Draco’s bed the next morning by their parents.

The snow outside is satisfyingly crisp under Y/N’s feet. She looks down, mesmerized as her boots cut into the fresh, untouched snow and leave behind a perfect imprint of her boot. She refocuses her eyes to her hair, spilling over her coat and scarf as thick white flakes catch on the strands. Only a few minutes into her walk, she’s dappled with snow.

Thinking about old times in Malfoy Manor make her smile. The property itself isn’t very far from her current home. After the war, she’d tried to move around to various wizarding communities, but none were all too welcoming. Even though Y/N’s family’s estate was lost to her, being back in the area she grew up brought her some comfort. Even if Draco’s home was still only a few miles away.

The empty road lined with trees soon gave way to a tiny town. It was once filled with bustling shops for the magical folk in the area, disguised as run down buildings to any muggle passing from afar. Now, most of the stores truly were that, only a few like the food markets, apothecary and bookshop were still open. As Y/N passed the old tailor’s shop, she tilted her head to the sky, sticking her tongue out to catch a snowflake.

“Y/N, have you given any more thought to what colors we should wear to the ball?” Draco moves the letter away from his face, letting his arm flop off the side of the couch.

Y/N sets down her quill next to the divination chart she’s working on. “Last I heard from mum, she was sending me three to try in green, ice blue and some shade of purple. Do you care to look at the clippings of the different styles she owled me yesterday?”

“Not particularly,” Draco sighs, looking past her and into the distance. At Y/N’s beat of silence, Draco moves his eyes back to her. “I am sure whatever you pick will look very pretty,” he adds, lifting his mother’s letter to emphasize.

Y/N smiles a little despite herself. “I don’t know why she keeps writing you, my own mother is just as accessible.”

“I know!” Draco groans. The fire in the common room hearth gently illuminates his handsome features he’s grown into the past two years. Y/N goes back to her essay. “Pans still not talking to you?” Draco asks, tossing the letter on the table and turning on his side to look at Y/N more directly.

Y/N just shakes her head.

“Well, she’ll get over it soon enough, whatever it is.”

But Y/N knew exactly the reason why Pansy wasn’t talking to her, and the reason was sitting right in front of her. Pansy could be stubborn sometimes, but this was going on for nearly a week now with no conversation outside of anything in a classroom, if that. “I just want us all to have a fun time at Christmas here,” Y/N sighs, resting her head on her hands. “It’s probably the only time our parents will let us stay here over break.”

Draco looks at Y/N sympathetically. “I know. I’ll try to talk to her again tomorrow. You sure you don’t know what’s got her bothered?”

Y/N bites her lip before deciding it’s stupid to hold out. “I think she’s upset about who she’s going to the ball with.”

“What?” Draco says, wrinkling his brow. “Why, what’s wrong with Theo?”

Y/N picks her quill back up and pretends to contemplate her essay agan, so her words seem more casual. “I think she’s upset that you didn’t ask her.”

“Well, that’s dumb. She knows damn well I can ask who I want, and I asked you.” Draco catches Y/N’s eyes and gives her a sly smile. “I’ll talk to her. I dunno what’s got her wand in such a twist these days.”

“Thanks, Draco.”

“Anytime. Hey, speaking of dates, who do you reckon Potter is bringing?”

“Maybe Snape.”

Draco laughs, and Y/N can’t help but feel warm inside.

Y/N is long past the shops, and is almost near what is considered the park for the area. Mostly a collection of short, winding trails through the trees, now transformed into a gigantic snowglobe in less than an hour. Bird sounds are amplified in the silence the snow brings, and two robins chase each other across the path. Their red feathers look beautiful against the white. Y/N walks her favorite trail, stopping to look at the frost covering the berries on a bush, and check a branch to see how many inches of snow have fallen so far. At the place where her path converges with another, she notices another set of footprints. They lead in the direction of the lake, and she decides to follow them, Y/N carefully stepping in the tracks of whoever came before her.

The snow has significantly improved Y/N’s mood. The snowflakes clinging to her hair and eyelashes make her feel like a winter fairie, and the combination of the wine and her layers has her feeling cozy against the cold. She crosses her feet over to fit in the footprints, like she’s walking a tightrope. Y/N is so focused on her footsteps again that she doesn’t realize right away that she’s reached the lake.

When a familiar root forces her to take a large step into her next foorprint she looks up. The lake hasn’t frozen over yet, and it’s dark water stands out in contrast to the pale sky and landscape surrounding it. Even the bank on the other side is white, white, white, and Y/N’s gasp cuts through the quiet as she takes in the view. “Wow.”

Something in her peripheral vision moves, and Y/N turns to see what it was. Sitting on the bench facing the lake several feet away is Draco Malfoy. He’s the mirror image of the landscape she sees before him, all pale hair and face emerging from a black coat. And he looks positively scared to see Y/N.

It’s a look she knows all too well.

“Y/N,” Draco says, half greeting and half in surprise.

“Draco.” Y/N stares back, almost equally bewildered. “I… I was just thinking about you, actually.”

“That’s funny… so was I,” he says. “Would you like to come sit?”

Y/N makes her way over to the bench, and Draco pulls his wand out from his coat and melts the remaining snow on the bench. Y/N tucks her coat beneath her and sits down, unable to look away from Draco. Despite the fact that he still looks unsure, he’s not looking away either.

It’s been almost five years since Y/N has seen Draco. She can’t help but drink in the sight of him, just as handsome and heartbroken as the day he’d left. Already she’s shifting on the bench to face him.

“You look well,” Draco finally says.

“Funny, you don’t.”

Draco laughs. Really hard. “You can always tell, can’t you?”

Y/N just shrugs. “I am a talented witch, what can I say.”

Draco reaches out and fingers the edge of Y/N’s scarf, and her heart drops in her chest. She’d forgotten his initials were on display. “You kept this?”

Y/N is quite focused on Draco’s ungloved hand in close proximity to her body, but she does say, “I honestly had forgotten about it until today.”

Draco lets go of the scarf. “I remember when I gave that to you.”

“So do I.”

Draco doesn’t put his hand back into his pocket, and instead lets it rest on the bench in between them.

“I miss you,” Y/N blurts out.

“Me, too,” Draco says immediately.

Y/N scoots a fraction closer, and Draco’s hand moves from the bench to the top of Y/N’s knee.

Y/N curls closer into Draco’s lap, and dips her finger below the collar of Draco’s dress shirt to trail her nail up his neck and along his hairline. Draco runs his finger slowly back and forth across Y/N’s bare kneecap.

“Ugh,” Pansy pretends to act disgusted as she glares at her best friends from the opposite couch. “I can’t believe I used to want that.”

Daphne runs her fingers through Pansy’s hair affectionately, and Y/N can feel Draco’s laugh in his chest. “Yeah, and I can’t believe how much you acted like a bitch over it.”

Pansy rolls her eyes and just settles against Daphne. “That was like a month, Draco. Besides, nothing could ever separate me and Y/N.”

That night Y/N lays awake in the guest bedroom as Astoria sleeps in the twin bed opposite her. Pansy has ditched her this year to share with Daphne, which was expected, but didn’t make sleeping in the same room with Astoria any less weird to her. But it was fine, really.

She checked the clock beside her bed. Almost one in the morning.

Y/N threw back the covers, not bothering to hide her tracks. Astoria was a smart girl, and all the parents never bothered to check the rooms anymore. When Y/N reached Draco’s room around the corner, she just knocked once. The door flew open, revealing a tired, yet no less excited Draco.

“Hey.”

Draco grabbed her by the wrist and swept her inside.

Y/N moved her hand to rest on top of Draco’s. “I miss everyone. But especially you.” She runs her thumb across Draco’s knuckles. “Are you busy tonight?”

“Absolutely free,” Draco says breathlessly.

“Good,” Y/N says, “because I still have half a bottle of wine to finish.”

#draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #Draco Malfoy #my writing

184 notes · View notes

veinsandknuckles · 3 years

Text

Long hard road, pt 2

So, this is a new part 2, making what used to be part 2 part 3. Makes total sense, right?

Vimes/f!Reader Slow burn AU where Vimes isn’t married. Will definitely become hard R down the line. Content warnings: none Read part 1 here, part 3 here One sunny day about two weeks after Stone’s arrival, you found him lurking in a shady corner of the courtyard, leaning against a crate with an amused expression on his face. Today you were shirking so you followed his gaze to see what he was seeing.

It was Conrad and one of the local boys, around thirteen or so, engaged in a mock battle with a stick each for a sword. They weren’t playing, either. Conrad stopped every other minute to give minute advice with an air of great authority. Stone nodded to you when you joined him. “He’s always fancied himself a bit of a strongman, I think,” you said by way of a greeting. Conrad did have endless stories about his adventures, and it was fun to keep track of the details he got wrong with each retelling. “He’s got the posture down, I’ll give him that.” It really was the kind of form you’d see in an instructional engraving; shoulders drawn back, chin in the air and his free hand behind his back. The boy caught him a blow on the outside of the thigh and Conrad loudly discounted it as unsportsmanlike. It was hard to tell if the kid was actually holding on to his every word, or just playing along for the excuse to beat a grown man and get away with it.

“Could you do better?”

Stone looked over at you with a suspicious frown. Then he shook his head. “You can’t bait me that easily.”

You nodded to the sword at his side. He never left the inn without it, and as plain as it was, it couldn’t be because he worried about it going missing. “So, what, you just carry that thing to impress the ladies?”

“Good grief.” But he must be in a good mood because then he smiled with a faraway look in his eye. “You know, I did try that for a time in my youth. When things grew desperate.”

“Did it work?”

“Nope.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure where that idea came from in the first place.” Conrad had backed the kid up against a wall with the point of the stick at his chest and looked a little too pleased about his victory. “In my experience, any excited talk between women about a big sword and the like is usually intended as a humorous metaphor.”

“You give men too much credit if you think we can tell the difference.” Stone still smiled, but you knew his words were a little too true for comfort. It was interesting that he could join in with this kind of talk so easily as long as it remained impersonal.

When Conrad turned his back to return to his starting position, the kid whacked him with his full strength across the leg. Conrad howled and nearly lost his balance. You couldn’t help laughing and the two knights in training finally discovered their audience. The boy bolted, Conrad scowled and limped off towards the kitchen, throwing the stick to the ground as he went.

“Show’s over,” said Stone and stood up straight. “Suppose I’d better get my own exercise in while there’s some daylight left.”

“Want some company?”

He sighed with an expression that was half amused, half irritated. “Do I have a choice?”

Of course he did, but if you said so he’d feel obligated to turn you down. He had to be able to tell himself he was being befriended against his will. After all, if he really wanted to avoid you, you knew he was more than capable of being impolite enough to say so. “What do you think?”

“Fine. A short walk, then.” Stone gestured for you to choose a direction and you headed out through the gates with him beside you, falling quickly into his leisurely pace.

The thaw had gotten an early start this year and everyone was fooled by it into hoping it would last, despite years of experience to the contrary. Every winter it was the same way - half a week of mild, sunny weather and not even the born locals could help thinking that this time it might be different, this time spring might arrive a month before it was due. Perhaps it was just human nature to talk big about expecting the worst and getting suckered despite of it.

Stone seemed a wonderful exception to this rule. There didn’t seem to be a silence thick enough to tempt him into speaking of the weather. He walked beside you, occupied with his own thoughts, completely at his ease.

“How long do you think you’ll be staying with us, mr Stone?”

He snorted. “Not a moment longer than I have to.”

The road you followed clung to the side of the mountain and bordered on the other side to dense pine forest growing from almost vertical ground. The little buildings of the inn huddled together on one of the wider plateaus and marked the edge of real vegetation before the path continued up towards the pass. You had just reached a bend in the road, a perfect vantage point to take in the stunning view of the mountain range to the side and the valleys below. On such a clear day, you could see the wide river even from here, snaking through the landscape like a silver inlay.

“How is it possible to tire of all this?”

Stone raised his eyebrows and regarded it dispassionately. “It’s just nature.”

You laughed. “I guess I can’t argue with that.”

“Since when are you so in love with the place? Thought you were bored to tears.”

“I’m not,” you conceded and tore yourself away from the view. “Just making the best of it.”

Stone took the lead now and followed the next trail leading in between the trees.

“Why not leave?”

“And go where? To do what?”

“I don’t know,” Stone shrugged. “You must want more than this, surely. You could settle down, start a family...” His ears caught up with his mouth and you saw him screw his eyes shut and shake his head.

Because of course the height of every woman’s ambition is a husband and children. You laughed and elbowed him in the side. “Mr Stone, are you offering to take me away from all of this?”

“Hah!” For once, he looked more amused than uncomfortable with the suggestion. “That’s me, walking model of fairy tale prince.”

“I’d say you’re more like the dangerous, good-for-nothing rogues that my mother should have warned me about. I’m sure you’ve left a few broken hearts in your wake.”

Stone snorted. “Right. You’ve really got me pegged.”

You bit your lip and kept watching him, but he was resolutely focused on the trail ahead. It didn’t seem like false modesty; he really did seem completely ignorant of his own charms. How could he not be, if he mistook every kind of flirtation for a joke?

Perhaps you weren’t his type. It happened. Not every man was ready to pounce on every opportunity that presented itself. Perhaps he didn’t want to pounce on anything in the first place.

But if that were the case, surely he would say so, instead of sarcastically playing along or pretending to misunderstand you. Whatever other obstacles may present themselves, the first and largest was that he wouldn’t believe you.

“Oh well,” you said. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

“No, I suppose I can’t,” he said, as if wishing he could. “But I can judge you for having poor taste.”

That was exactly the kind of comment you could hardly interpret as anything other than encouragement for you to continue.

“Are you asking to be complimented?”

Stone half turned towards you with a look of startled dread. “Absolutely not.”

Exasperated, you rolled your eyes and decided to drop it for the time being. “Fine. You pick a subject, then.”

For a moment, it seemed as if Stone couldn’t pull himself back together. The silence was thick and uncomfortable and you could have sworn you saw him, out of the corner of your eye, looking at you with some earnestness.

“Do you... er. Have you lived here long?”

“A few years.” The poor man really was ready to scrape the bottom of the barrel, but you felt like you owed him a little help in steering back into safer waters. “You’re from Ankh-Morpork, aren’t you?”

The little path forked up ahead and Stone chose the path that looped around to the other side of the inn. He really had explored his surroundings. “I suppose that’s not much of a secret.”

“The accent is pretty strong.”

“Huh.” He sniffed. “Your Morporkian is, er... it’s very good.”

“Thank you.”

“Must be from reading all those books.” He’d seen you read once, but apparently that was enough to set you down as a confirmed book worm.

For a while, you walked together in silence and slowly his ruffled feathers seemed to settle down. It was beautiful out here, every shadow in the snow a rich blue, every dapple of sunshine glowing peach and gold as the afternoon wore on. Your footfalls made a pleasant, hypnotising creaking sound with each step you took.

Before you could think it through, you asked a question that had been weighing on you for some time. “Is it safe for you to be here?”

There was a pause. “...for me or for you?”

Oh gods. “Either, I suppose.”

Stone thought this through. He looked very weary.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I suppose we’ll find out.”

You tried to smile. “I guess I wasn’t too far off with the ‘dangerous rogue’ thing, then.”

“Well, you knew that already.”

“Yeah... next time you should have a backstory and name picked out before you introduce yourself.”

“I’ll bear that in mind,” he replied drily.

Despite everything he’d said (and failed to say) and despite how incredibly intimidating he could be, it was impossible for you to view Stone as a threat. If he had tried to make himself likeable or if he’d tried harder to bullshit an excuse for being here in the first place, it would have been another thing altogether. He didn’t seem as if he wanted anyone to like him very much and that indifference was predictably irresistible.

He was just so... self-contained. He seemed perfectly content on his own and perfectly careless of his reputation. His attitude towards whatever danger he was in seemed to consist mostly of boredom, as if he was just waiting to get it over with and wasn’t all that invested in the outcome. In many ways, he was untouchable, and of course that only made you more desperate to try. It was also very difficult to believe he didn’t have to fight people off with a stick.

You should really know better. So far everything had gone his way, which meant he could afford to be a gentleman, but who knew what desperation could drive him to do? When his reality caught up with him, you might all be acceptable casualties - to him as well as to whoever, or whatever, was chasing him. Somehow, all these facts were trumped by a strong gut feeling in his favour and here you were, walking beside him feeling as safe as if you’d known him for years.

The inn was coming back into view. Stone was deep in thought, but when the climb to get back onto the road got a little steep, he scaled it ahead of you, turned and offered his hand to help pull you up.

It was big, rough and warm - you felt the heat of his skin even through your mittens - and yours seemed almost to disappear into his grip. With a slowly creeping flush you realised that your attraction to him had grown much quicker than you had intended it to. Soon, if he kept deflecting your advances, you might find yourself too shy to continue them or, if you were very careless, growing lovesick.

“Thank you,” you said as you stepped onto the road and he immediately let go. You worried that you might have sounded a little too breathless and sincere.

“Course.” Stone cleared his throat and walked briskly towards the stables. “And, er. Thank you for the company. Although,” and he shot you a glance, “it shouldn’t become a habit. Seems all people do round here is gossip.”

“Of course.” You couldn’t deny it even if you wanted to, but it was very sweet of him to care about your reputation. “We wouldn’t want anyone to think you were a loose man.”

The shadow of the house crossed your path and Stone immediately seemed more at ease when he stepped into it. You could sense that he wanted to be alone with his thoughts now and so you forced a little smile and waved him off. A curt nod, and then he slunk in among the buildings, off to do whatever mysterious things usually filled his time.

#sam vimes #sam vimes x you #sam vimes x reader #discworld fanfiction #sam vimes imagine #my fics

3 notes · View notes

derireo · 4 years

Text

Wilting Lotus / CH. 5.1

The Two Fools

Omi and Izumi explore her abandoned apartment.

He decides to destroy a couple of things during the visit. Just for kicks.

「 Read on AO3 here 」「 4.0k words 」

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

"So they decided to shut it down because..?"

Izumi was staring up at the place that she used to call her apartment, but it was obvious that no one lived here anymore. The front lawn where a large sign used to sit was now overrun with weeds while the walls of the building looked like they were being swallowed up by invasive creeper plants. Omi's arm was still comfortably wrapped around her shoulders as they stayed put on the sidewalk, her head resting against his shoulder as she analysed the graffiti that ran along the walls.

The sound of Omi's tongue clicking was the only response Izumi was going to get given how silent the man was the rest of their way here. The lack of cooperation made her sigh in resignation and she decided not to ask anymore questions unless they were actually important. For the time being at least.

She just had to guess that Sakyo and Itaru didn't want this building anymore because she didn't live there anymore. Her conjecture probably wasn't that far off anyways.

Flinging Omi's arm from her shoulders, Izumi readjusted her outfit as she made her way inside the abandoned building, the toes of her boots kicking away the stray pebbles that rest on the ground.

The man who accompanied her pursed his lips at the sudden loss of warmth, but silently crinkled his nose as he reminded himself that she had just very rudely pushed him away. Slinging her bag over his shoulder, Omi's tongue poked the inside of his cheek as he followed right behind the wandering woman, his temper still pleasantly mellow.

"Ugh, stairs." Izumi moaned sadly when pressing the button to the elevator didn't work, hitting her head against the metal doors.

It wasn't too far, but she lived on the third floor.

Omi, irked by how fast she had given up already, offered his services.

"I can give you a ride," he started, "but it's gonna cost ya."

And as much as the offer was tempting, Izumi grimaced at the word 'cost' and shook her head with a barely friendly chuckle, her eyes totally not glaring up at Omi as they smiled at him. His own gaze was indifferent at the expression on her face, but the corner of his mouth curved upwards when he saw how annoyed she seemed to be.

"No thanks, Sweetheart. I"ll manage." Mocking him with the nickname Sakyo usually called her, Izumi briefly poked her tongue out at Omi. Her little feet immediately carried her in the direction of the stairs before the tall man could react and grab her or something, and she tried to keep her giggles quiet when the sound of his footsteps followed after her own.

Their shadows danced along the length of the walls as the old wood beneath their feet creaked under the weight of their bodies. The sound of wandering mice and other critters tapping along the floors and ceiling covered up the tired breaths of Izumi as Omi casually trailed behind her, eyes fixated on the strain of her calves.

But as strong as she was, her endurance fucking sucked.

"I'll carry you. Free o' charge."

"Oh thank fuck." Izumi sobbed at the new offer, her body twisting around once they finished the first flight of stairs. At this point, her knees felt weak and she was about to die from exhaustion so Omi saying he'd carry her was like a dream come true; she honestly didn't think her short legs were gonna make it.

With arms held wide open, Izumi waited to be lifted onto his shoulder again, only to be startled by the feeling of already familiar hands gripping onto her waist and hoisting her up into the air.

Her reflexes were barely fast enough when latching onto the man, her legs tightly curled around his waist while her arms looped around his neck as Omi made no other effort to hold onto her himself, his hands reaching out to grab the handrails so that they wouldn't fall down the stairs.

"I can definitely tell that you wouldn't care if I died." Izumi sighed, wistful almost. As much as she found herself physically attracted to this man she was touching, his personality was nearing the line of a total deal breaker.

Omi found it easy to agree with her statement as he focused on getting the both of them to the floor that Izumi used to live on, the pace of his breathing barely changing.

The silence he left Izumi in annoyed her to no end; having been so used to Itaru's ramblings and Sakyo's never ending sighing or growling. She also didn't want to admit that she enjoyed being spoiled with attention, but with Omi's indifference, and maybe even dislike, towards her, she was definitely weighing the pros and cons on throwing a little tantrum.

But no. She shook her head, much to Omi's agitation. She had to keep her cool. Losing her temper with Omi like this was obviously going to put her in a tight situation, and she wasn't willing to die by this fucker's hands.

"Frowning isn't a cute look on you." She said offhandedly, already getting bored having to stay quiet with her emotions while her chin hooked over his shoulder, the side of her head leaning against his just to make him a little more annoyed.

At this point, Omi wasn't planning on opening his mouth to shoot her with a retort. Izumi would probably hit him back with something even meaner to say, and then they would have to do a back and forth to see whose feelings would get hurt first.

And nobody really had time for that; plus, Omi just wanted this girl off.

"Here. Get down." The man heaved a sigh of relief when he saw the large number '3' on the wall at the top of the stairs and went to pry off the clingy monster from his body.

Izumi tutted when her feet met the floor, but didn't say anything else to Omi who was trying to brush off any dust or dirt she brought upon him (rude!) and opened the broken fire exit door that would lead them to the hallway where her home was. The circuit breaker was undoubtedly shut off from all those years ago so the only source of light was the sun rays coming in from the end of the hallway.

The silence that resided in the place that Izumi once called her home made it slightly eerie, but she willed herself not to be perturbed and started to venture down to find the door to her apartment room.

"Ugh.. It's so cold. I kinda wish they left the electricity on." Rubbing her hands against her arms, Izumi stopped in front of a door that had one of the numbers hanging off. Her lips pouted when she saw the broken door frame and the cracked door itself; probably in this condition due to her never giving Sakyo and Itaru the key before she left.

She nudged the door open with her foot and held onto her arms as she walked in to the near empty home, just a few things like her ratty old couch and a few wooden chairs left askew in the living room. And she didn't notice then, but it seemed like the table in Itaru's 'office' was actually her coffee table.

Reduce, reuse, recycle, huh?

"Should blame yourself for wearin' that outfit you got goin' on." Omi said as he ventured to her kitchen where a leaky faucet remained along with a few broken dishes left abandoned in the sink. If anything, Omi would have offered his jacket to her if she asked, but she didn't. So. That's kind of on her.

"I'll kill you." Her voice travelled from an area of the place that was probably her bedroom, and the empty threat left Omi chuckling to himself as he brushed his hand along a cracked cupboard, fingers catching onto the handle that would let him open the tiny cabinet. The man grimaced when the collected dust flew in front of his face and he waved it away with his free hand as he examined whatever was inside.

The cupboard mostly housed a unique array of shot glasses, showing how much of an alcoholic the girl was in the past, along with a small arrangement of porcelain plates and one single kiddie bowl.

A small wave of repulsion went through Omi when he took a closer look at a mug that caught his attention though, a curious hand reaching out to properly examine what was on the ceramic.

It was a personalised mug that seemed to have a not so hot picture of Izumi with her former boyfriend on it, their arms wrapped around each other.

With one of the worst choices of font, Papyrus, was a sentence that ran around the image.

I hope only love and happiness meet us hand-in-hand in the future.. Guo Dian.

Happy Graduation, Izumi.

This? In Papyrus? Out of all fonts? Omi didn't major in anything let alone graphic design, but just looking at this abomination told him that this bullshit was hideous as fuck. He was going to have to do something about this.

"Yo, Izumi-san." He called out.

"En..?" Poking her head from a doorway, the girl's eyes squinted at Omi who had the mug casually hanging from a long finger, eyebrows scrunched him as she tried to see what it was he was trying to tell her through his vague gestures. She only realised what he was holding in his hand when she remembered that there was only one or two mugs she owned as a new adult, and the only one that had a picture on it was the present that Guo Dian gave her on her convocation day.

"You ever tell 'im this the ugliest shit ya ever seen?"

"Uh.. I thought it was kinda cute at the time.." She trailed off, slightly embarrassed. Sure, it wasn't the prettiest thing to look at, but it's the thought that counts, right? Izumi treasured it for many years after receiving it, but she totally forgot about it once she left to go overseas. She didn't use it much anyways, considering how worn down and scratched all of her shot glasses were while the mug looked like it had been barely touched.

"Right, well," with an easy but powerful flick of his wrist, Omi lobbed the ceramic mug across the short length of the living room, leaving it to fly far enough to hit and smash the rest of an already broken window that lead to the outside of the building, "you thought wrong."

Wincing at the sound of the crash of the window and then the smash of the mug landing on concrete, Izumi quickly frowned at Omi before disappearing to her bedroom again to go back to doing what she was doing before he interrupted her. Whatever. She didn't like that mug anyways.

The lack of reaction was kind of disappointing to Omi, but he decided not to push her any further just in case the kitty actually had claws, using the leaking faucet to wash away any of the dust that managed to stick to his fingers as his nose wrinkled at the memory of initially witnessing the tragedy that was Izumi's only graduation present.

If it were him, he would have dumped his partner right then and there.

"Ugh.. Omi-san?" It was Izumi's turn to call out for him, not that it mattered to the man but he perked up at the helpless tone in her voice, already making the short trek to her bedroom before she could tell him what she needed help with.

She was surprised to see Omi standing in the doorway when she was going to walk out and drag him from the kitchen, but smiled gratefully when he was in her sights, hands shoved into his pockets.

"You good?" Eyeing the piece of plywood that Izumi was holding onto, Omi pursed his lips and took a single step forward to see how she was managing. The plywood looked a bit new, and considering that Sakyo and Itaru had been here once before told him that they were the ones who installed it.

They said they were having trouble opening something a while back, so it must have been something valuable hence the plywood screwed shut over the huge ass hole they made in the wall.

"Obviously not." Izumi grunted, fingers sore from pulling at the barrier for so long. "There was literally no reason for this."

Awkwardly bouncing on the balls of his feet, Omi continued to watch the girl struggle. Was she going to ask him to lend a hand or..?

"Please help me." She whined, removing her hands from the small crevice that helped her pull at the industrial wood. She brought her fingers up to her mouth and cutely placed soothing kisses to the parts that would undoubtedly bruise later, causing Omi's mouth to twist in disgust at the adorable display.

"Hm. Thought you were never gonna ask, Sweetheart." He smiled sarcastically to which Izumi reacted the same, both of them glaring at each other as Omi shrugged off his black denim jacket and tossed it to Izumi who hardly reacted fast enough to catch it. No one else would have put it past Omi to ignore the girl until she asked for assistance since he liked watching others struggle, but there was something about Izumi that made it all the more fun.

He had just met her today, and not that he'd admit it, but he was kind of enjoying himself right now.

"Hold it or wear it, don't care. An' quit lookin' at me like that." Omi sighed as Izumi crinkled her nose, the weight of his jacket making it difficult for her to hold in both hands. A slight grumble came from the girl once the man had turned away from her to pull a tactical switchblade from his back pocket, the matte carbon fibre attracting her attention.

Her eyebrows lifted, impressed by the slick blade, and took a step back to let Omi do whatever he was planning to do, arms casually slipping through the sleeves of his large jacket to keep herself warm. "You gonna somehow cut through the plywood with that?" She inquired while sitting down on her old bed, the sound of the creaking springs causing her to grimace and readjust her position on the hard mattress.

The half-hearted joke made Omi want to hit his head against the wall, but he didn't, instead bending to his knees to get a better look at the screws that were still managing to hold on. "I ain't that strong." He rolled his eyes to himself, hooking the blade into the divot of the first screw to get it loose and then worked on the next one in the other corner to get the top half disconnected from the wall. He worked quickly so that he wouldn't waste any more of their time, and without touching the other screws at the bottom dug his hand between the plywood and the wall to manually force it off.

The sound of wood splitting caused Izumi to stop zoning out, her body jolting at the sudden break.

"Yeah.." She grimaced again, seeing how the poor wood lay at his feet. "Not that strong.. I agree.."

Izumi sighed once she saw the huge hole that hid away the safe she only opened once, the dents in the metal clear as day to both her and Omi. Sakyo and Itaru could have done a better job at trying to open the safe, right? It was just a simple 4-digit code, but it looked like they couldn't even figure it out. There were a few scratches on some of the numbers that told Izumi that they focused on those, but they missed the mark.

They didn't get a single number right.

"The code was 3825.." Izumi mourned as she quickly went to kneel in front of the safe to drag her fingers along the dimples in the metal, not yet touching the keypad. Omi's eyebrows creased as he watched how her small hands poked out from the long sleeves of his jacket and crossed his arms over his chest, not really knowing why she would assume anyone would figure that out by themselves with no sort of clue from the owner.

"3825 for 'fuck' when you look at the letters.." She explained not a second later, and it was at this point that Omi would have honestly preferred if she didn't say anything at all.

The urge to rip his jacket off her body out of anger was strong, but she unlocked the safe before he could make a move. Omi was left having to pretend he was only outstretching his hand to anxiously bite at his nails while Izumi gathered whatever was in the safe, the sigh that left her connecting to how Omi was feeling at this very moment.

"Didn't like 7448?" He muttered to himself when Izumi shuffled away from the safe to close it, the woman standing to her proper height as she turned her head to look at him with an innocent expression, eyes oddly sad for some reason.

"'Shit' wasn't as funny as 'fuck' at the time." She murmured gloomily, thumb brushing over the items that lay in her hand while Omi took a step to take a better look. His face contorted once more into an expression of disgust when he saw another photo of Izumi and Guo Dian together, along with a pair of amber kanzashi hair combs and a simple, black titanium ring.

"Top tier humour." He said, snatching away the photo that rest in her palm. The protest against him went ignored as Omi rummaged around in his pocket for something, his tongue poking out just the slightest bit as he dug deep to conjure a single match kept safe in a small plastic baggie from his trousers. "We're burnin' this shit."

"No! I look cute in that photo!" Izumi shot a hand out to try and reach for the picture that Omi took from her, but the man only held it above his head with a petulant frown, nose scrunched that she would even bother to try and save this forsaken piece of chemically sensitised paper.

The agitation was clear on Omi's face when Izumi's hand made contact with his chest as she tried to get closer to the photo, straining herself on her toes to at least brush her fingers along the edge of the item while her body leaned into him. Her struggle was genuine as she wheezed out a childish whine, but was quickly silenced when Omi's hand came down to roughly pat her cheek, an arm tucking around her waist to bring her back to the flat of her feet.

"I'll cut his half off then we burn it." He offered then pushed away the girl from him to keep their distance, brushing off the imaginary dust that she brought upon him. "Want you to explain why those are important though." He pointed at the traditional hair ornament and the ring being held tight in Izumi's hand. The amber resin glowed bright despite the dim lighting in the bedroom, and the ring glimmered just the slightest when the light from the window hit it as Izumi examined the accessories herself, lips pouted.

"I just told Itaru and Sakyo that these meant a lot to me," she sighed, not noticing Omi brandishing his switchblade again, "they're making it seem like they hold a different meaning though. I don't quite get it."

The smooth sound of his blade slicing through the photo made Izumi fall back into reality and she pressed her lips in a thin line when she noticed how he narrowly missed cutting her whole arm from the rest of the picture. She didn't say anything, but Omi knew how unimpressed she was with him when she put her hands on her hips; looking awfully cute (not his words) with how his denim jacket dwarfed her.

"Any special markings on 'em?" He murmured as he plucked the match he had from its baggie, taking a single step closer to the girl to reach out with the tiny thing. Before Izumi could react, Omi's wrist flicked in her direction to strike the match against his jacket that she still wore, a brief spark flying before the head lit up into a flame.

The action made her flinch in surprise, momentarily forgetting what his question was as her eyes darted back and forth between her sleeve and the match with widened eyes.

"H-How.."

"Cap gun powder, water, nail varnish." He didn't let her finish as he brought the match to Guo Dian's half of the photo, casually letting it burn in one hand as he motioned for Izumi with the other, telling her to hurry up and answer his question. The old scars on her body ached when her gaze didn't move from the flickering match and the melting picture, but willed herself to break away from the bright flame to avert her attention to the simple ring that Guo Dian had given to her as another present.

"Er.. Ah! There's a lotus emblem inside the ring.." She gasped in surprise, noticing the thin engraving that was touched up with gold. She then flipped the kanzashi combs in hands to see another set of lotus emblems in the top left corners, the black paint protected by a smooth coating of some type of varnish.

A deep intake of breath was heard coming from Omi as he finally dropped the ruined photo of Guo Dian along with the match, casually stepping on the flame with his white shoe to extinguish it before it could catch fire onto any of the rubble that was around. Stepping away, his foot revealed the burnt to a crisp sensitised paper and the dead match in the spot where the ex boyfriend's head used to be.

"'Kay. Good to know. We're done 'ere." The man mumbled as he tucked Izumi's half of the photo in his jacket pocket for the girl to hold onto, wrapping his large hand around the crook of Izumi's elbow to begin pulling her out the bedroom without giving her any time to look at anything else. "Let's go."

"Hey!" Izumi complained, unable to use any strength against Omi to make release her. She tried digging her heels into the floor to make the man let up, but Omi wasn't having it and pulled on her arm to make her stumble forward until she crashed into his side. Izumi groaned in agitation as her nose dug itself into his rib cage, but Omi was left unaffected, his arm moving to go back around her shoulders to escort her out of the abandoned apartment room.

"Can we at least go eat some food before we go back?" She put away the kanzashi in the same pocket Omi put her photo in and wore the black ring on her middle finger, squinting up at the man who was leading her down the hallway and towards the stairwell. "I didn't get to before I visited the office."

He shot a quick glance her way only for him to revert his gaze to the flight of stairs they were going to have to go back down, and made a move to grab Izumi firmly by the waist, hoisting her up into the air for a bridal carry, only to hear her complain again.

He was not going to let her slow them down by going into a corner to heave and catch her breath again. She went limp in Omi's arms just to spite him and make things harder, but his simple answer of 'no' made her shoot up to punch him in the shoulder.

"You're the worst."

#noice #proofreading took me an hour and some to finish #i hate proofreading #hope y'alls like it! part two of chapter 5 will hopefully be out in a few days or more #hopefully there aren't any mistakes left but i wouldn't put it past myself to miss them #wilting lotus #omi fushimi #izumi tachibana #fushimi omi #tachibana izumi #a3!#a3! imagines #a3! act! addict! actors!#A3! Actor Training Game #a3! scenarios #a3! headcanons #sakyo furuichi #itaru chigasaki #ser: mafia au

31 notes · View notes

spamela-hamderson · 4 years

Note

For the prompt! “You’re jealous”

For you ao3 link

:::

Robert comes up with the plans. It’s been this way for as long as he can remember; he used to plan minor distractions outside of the house when he was younger, so he could get a few minutes alone to dismantle a beloved home appliance with his mind while everyone else was out searching for a missing flock.

He’d come down once the coast was clear, with his trusty notebook in hand (to track his progress) and Victoria’s old baby blanket tied around his neck (‘WizKid’ scrawled across it in blue paint; he’d still wanted to be a superhero then), and get to work.

The problem, as it has always been, is that Robert never was the best at executing said plans.

You see, the plan was always to dismantle the appliance, and then put it back together in its previous condition. But he never quite managed that. As it turned out, building a working machine was a lot harder than taking it apart. And by the time he remembered that, someone would catch on to Robert being the only one not with them and rush back into the house, too late, to find bits of metal strewn over the countertop and footsteps banging back up the stairs.

:::

He succeeded just once before having to leave home. Slapped the radio back into form, (sans make-shift cape; he’d long grown out of it by then) and apart from a mystifying minute of ticking every time you pressed play, it had worked fine.

A month after that, he would play a stupid game with his stupid brother, wouldn’t be able to save Max King and would be sent away for not being worthy of his powers.

:::

Aaron had been planned as well.

Well. Sort of.

Robert had made his debut into the criminal underworld with a series of small jobs that went without a hitch. But things got complicated once he’d set his sights on riskier targets.

On his own, his powers and charm only got him so far. He needed someone who would watch his back. Someone who would help him finish what he set out to do.

What he needed, he thought, was his very own henchman.

The prospects had trickled through in stops and starts. Some, Robert worried were too stupid to keep up with him, and others, in their comic book villain ensemble and annoyingly peculiar affectations, were clearly too interested in a fantasy that Robert didn’t have the patience for. It was the exceedingly normal ones, however, who had unsettled Robert the most.

(Sanity is an illusion in their line of work. The really messed up ones, the sort who carved into innocents for fun in their underground dens of torture, were also the ones who seamlessly weaved mundanity through their to-do-list of horrors: calling out a neighbourly hello through the kitchen window as they scrub blood from under their fingernails, taking a ten-minute break from their day job to look up large plastic tubs (big enough to fit an adult), and installing an entertainment system in said underground den of torture so they don’t have to miss strictly while laying out tools, scared whimpers harmonising with Gymnopédie No.1 and the cheers from the crowd.)

When Aaron had slammed out of their first meeting with a glare more frightening than the rough scar running down the length of his face, his permanently bruised knuckles clenched tight in a blazing fist, and dislike lining every inch of him, none of it hidden away, Robert had been ready to try trusting him with his life.

By the end of his first day at work, Aaron had expressed plain doubt that Robert was a card-carrying member of the League of Nefariousness (Robert had threatened to show him the framed letter of acceptance, hung at pride of place on his office wall). By day three he’d slammed him into a wall, snarling into his face, and Robert had had to come to terms with the very confusing situation in his pants. It took till the end of day four, after too many hours of covert staring, to admit that he might have a problem.

By his second week, when shit had hit the fan in the middle of what was meant to be a simple intelligence-gathering operation, and Aaron had taken charge, flipped the script, and saved his neck,—literally, from a very sharp knife—Robert realised he’d gone and found himself a partner instead of a henchman.

There was no way Robert could’ve prepared for him.

And that brings him back to his current plan of action.

:::

Robbing the science facility while the gala is in full swing at the first floor of the building, instead of doing it days after that as they had originally planned, will mean they’ll be working on a tight schedule from now on, he decides. And he’ll have to make a list of other changes as well, taking into account all the extra pairs of eyes that’ll be scuttling around at an event of this scale, and the tighter security that’ll come with it. But it’s better this way, really; Robert’s always preferred performing to an audience anyway. And if he wants to get the message out, he needs everyone watching.

They’ll make their move late into the evening. Give the guests enough time to get bladdered, and the security complacent. It’ll work out, Robert decides.

Besides, he deserves a posh night out. It’s been months of clandestine weapons trades in grimy warehouse buildings and stopping for bad takeaway on the way back from rooftop shootouts, leaning heavy against Aaron under the guise of exhaustion. He wants an excuse to wear a suit and polish off flutes of champagne while he’s at it.

But the upper crust only ever throws their parties—with diamonds dripping down necks and camera crews parked outside to greet them—for Heroes. Nevermind that they’re also the ones secretly bankrolling half the evil schemes in play across the city on any given day.

Robert wonders if Aaron will let himself be talked into wearing a suit. He knows he won’t do it just because he’s asked, and Robert can make up a reason, tell him it’s an essential part of the plan, but Aaron’s got quite the knack for sniffing out his bullshit.

He sighs, feeling sorry for himself all over again, and watches a boxy suit jacket take form over his little digital doodle of Aaron running down the side of the updated plan on a loop, a mock-up of him on his way to empty out a heavily guarded vault, eleven floors below ground, where 35 grams of rare dryadrium is being stored; More than three times the amount Robert needs to finish building his killer robot prototype. But staring at doodle-Aaron’s over-serious eyebrows makes his chest too heavy to ignore, so he gives up and slumps back into his seat noisily, away from his tablet.

He lasts about six seconds before sending the offending item flying off the table and into his palm, a new window already open (and sharing the screen with his list) to the paparazzi shot of Aaron and the Red Rider for him to glower down at. He’s never been one for self-restraint.

COFFEE DATE WITH MYSTERY LOVER!

Will the darling of justice Red Ride off into the sunset with his new bad-boy?

To the undiscerning eye, Robert supposes they might look undeniably involved. They’re stood so close it’s amazing the two disposable cups of coffee clutched between them haven’t spilt, the Red Rider’s hands are around Aaron’s upper arms like he’s pulling him in for a hug, and his smile might be described as teasing, by some (Robert just thinks it makes him look like a tit).

But Robert sees right through it. He recognises the street they’re pictured on as the one between the abandoned power station they work out of and the cafe closest to it. The article mentions they were spotted yesterday morning. Probably right after Aaron had picked up their usual order of one americano and one regular coffee with a splash of milk, same as he does on the days he comes in before ten.

While Red‘s got his meticulously focus-grouped smile in place, Aaron looks totally baffled by him (though the article tries to pass it off as starstruck). And why wouldn’t he be? That is a lot of red lycra to take in before you’ve had your morning coffee.

So yes, Robert knows it’s stupid for him to be feeling so strongly about this photo when there’s clearly no truth behind what it’s saying. But he can’t help but find it extremely unfair that it’s the Red Rider who gets to be paired off with Aaron (even if it’s only in the eyes of bored commuters looking for a bit of morning gossip to get them through the day) when Robert’s the one wreaking glorious havoc across the city with him.

Of course, it’s not like the public knows who Aaron is.

But still. Of all people. It had to be a Hero. Ugh.

Thus, the plan. And he can’t wait to see it play out, too. The darling of justice, dancing the night away at a gala held in his honour, while 1.7 million pounds worth of precious metal gets swiped from right under his nose. Robert sneers down at the crude stick figure of the Red Rider sketching itself into existence, tears shooting out of his eyes in black dashes of ink as his adoring crowd turns away in disgust.

:::

He’s so busy trying to glare a hole into Red’s smiling face without accidentally blowing the tablet to bits, he almost misses the low hiss of the lab doors sliding open behind him. He blinks and the window closes, leaving him with only the details of the new plan to stare at, just as Aaron plunks his coffee in front of him.

He also gets a tired nod, a non-verbal hi as Aaron makes his way around the table, and already Robert feels better about the day.

He manages a mumbled thanks back, somewhere between grabbing at the cup and tilting its contents onto his tongue. It’s too hot to drink comfortably still, even after having weathered the icy spring air on its way here. He leans his mouth against the lid of the cup instead and thinks about Aaron seeping warmth back through its walls with his hands.

“You’re sure these are microwave safe, yeah?” he asks, eyes blinking wide in false innocence, but doesn’t hold back his chuckle at the devastating judgement he gets for it. He’d watched Aaron blow up his lunch once, food and cracked pieces of a bowl all over him and the floor, and hasn’t shut up about it since.

“Right, I’ll leave you with cold coffee next time then, shall I?” Aaron says. His voice is still rough with morning disuse.

Robert puts his coffee back on the table so he can rest his chin on his palm and look up at Aaron. It brings him a little closer to him. “You wouldn’t. I’d moan on about it too much.”

“You’d be a nightmare,” he agrees, smiling behind his own cup. He’s just finished folding himself onto the only other chair in the lab in a way Robert can’t imagine to be comfortable, coffee cradled close to his chest, when he snaps his fingers. A small flame floats over his thumb. He slumps even further into his chair.

Aaron bears his power like a spare limb tucked away too tight and always too long, even if it’s only been minutes, never fully comfortable until he can stretch it out, feel it break apart from the perimeters of his skin and breath on its own.

They watch it skip lazily across the back of his fingers and weave through them for a moment.

“Has Tate said what she wants from us?” Aaron asks.

Robert feels his stomach begin to sink. “That’s today?”

Aaron raises his eyebrows at him. “She’s sending her driver to pick us up at 10, Robert. Remember?”

Robert thunks his head against the table and groans. They don’t have the time for whatever Tate wants. At this rate, they’ll be stumbling through the job unprepared, and Red will come swooping in to save the day, and they’ll be the laughing stock of the city, another notch in Red’s shiny, crime-fighting belt, and Aaron will leave him for being a screw-up.

Robert groans louder.

“Robert?”

He takes a second more to hide behind his arms, then pulls himself back up.

Aaron’s hand is half extended towards him, his flame extinguished and his eyes worried.

No. He wants this to work. He wants the world to see them together, see that they work. It might not be as Robert and Aaron, not to anyone else. Maybe not even to Aaron. But it’ll be close enough.

Robert leans back into his chair to pull his phone out from inside his trouser pocket. He can fix this.

“How about we cancel the meeting with Tate?” he says, but he’s already typing out a ‘Something’s come up, can’t do today’ to send to her.

“You what?” Aaron laughs.

“You never liked her anyway.” Aaron had dragged his feet when they’d first taken a job for her. She’ll start thinking she owns us, he’d said.

But Robert had insisted. They’d needed the money, then.

Aaron puffs his cheeks out. “I’m not complaining, mate. But she’s not gonna like it.”

“Eh,” Robert shrugs it off. They finished their last job with her, clean and simple, and they haven’t agreed to anything new. There’s no reason for any business to be left hanging between them.

“You gonna tell me why?” Aaron asks.

“We’ve got enough on our plate now.”

That gets a confused head tilt. “Do we?”

“About that. I was thinking–” he stops to roll his eyes at Aaron’s cheeky wince. “What if we broke into the facility on Saturday instead.”

The head tilt stays confused. “Before the gala?”

Robert shakes his head. “At the gala.”

Aaron huffs out an unsure laugh like he thinks Robert might be pulling his leg, then sobers when he sees he’s being serious.

“Why?” he wants to know. “Did something happen?”

“Nothing, I uh.” Right. A reason. “I thought about it, and it’s better this way.”

Aaron looks at him like he’s gone mad, which. Robert should’ve expected that, really. He takes a second to wonder why he hasn’t prepared a script for this.

“I don't…" Aaron squints at Robert like he’ll find an explanation on him somewhere if he looks hard enough. When that fails him, he searches blankly around the lab, perhaps looking for a clue to where he should even start.

Robert waits.

“This isn’t what we prepared for,” he lands on.

“It’ll be fine.” Robert will make sure of it. “I know the mechanics of the security set up around the vault like the back of my hand by now.”

It’s a precise clockwork of systems designed by a Swedish company, and it’s kept Robert up for weeks trying to puzzle it out.

Aaron nods his head slowly, like a man who’s had to endure long hours listening to Robert mumble to himself in increasing desperation in their shared office space.

“I’ll get you past it. Trust me.”

Aaron nods more readily at that, and Robert’s heart finds a moment in all this to skip a beat. He urges himself to get a grip.

“There’ll be more guards, yes, but the gala should keep them occupied for the most part. The new guards aren’t there to protect the dryadrium, Aaron. They’re there to keep the high profile guests safe.”

Aaron still doesn’t seem convinced. “There’ll be cameras everywhere. Ministers, Heroes, tycoons, journalists… How’re we meant to get in? Or out, for that matter.”

It’s then that the idea hits him. Oh, he thinks. I’m a genius.

“We won’t seem out of place if we pretend we’re just another two names on the guest list…”

And here’s the tricky bit. All he has to do is be light-handed with the delivery. Just throw it out there, nothing to it.

“…We’ll fit right in in a couple of suits.”

Aaron barely gives him a second to hope. “Yeah, no, we’re not doin’ it on Saturday, then.”

“Wh–”

“I’m not wearing a suit, Robert. Not unless I’m stood in front of a judge.”

“But–” Robert tries not to panic. “But you have to.”

“And why is that?” Aaron leans back into his chair, comfortable as ever, and slips both hands into the front pocket of his hoodie. “You haven’t said.”

Robert’s been hoping he won’t notice. “Well,” he starts. “It’s like you said. There’ll be loads of cameras there. And reporters from major news networks. It’s time we introduced ourselves to the people. Officially. Don’t you think?”

It’s time they learn you’re mine, he tries not to think.

Because it’s not true, however much he wants it to be. He’s not… they’re not…

There’d been that one time, sure, that one kiss–

(Gold light filtered over his skin, cutting through the shadows of his face and making his scar dance. Robert had seen seasoned criminals give Aaron a wide berth, everything about him screaming: get any closer and lose your teeth. Right then, watching him watch flames rise up into the night from what was left of the hideout he’d just tossed a giant ball of fire into (killing, in the process, a jumped-up mobster who hadn’t known his place), soft was the only word that fit.

The tension he’d accepted as a part of Aaron had bled out. His lips had fallen open around barely a hint of a smile, and his eyes… they were drooping down the sides a little, tired after a long fight but still lit up by the beauty of the destruction he wrought.

Robert couldn’t look anywhere else.

He saw his hand on Aaron’s cheek before he realised he’d put it there in the first place. The tips of his fingers reached past an ear and his thumb smoothed against the rough beard under it. There was no force behind the touch. He didn’t want to interrupt, he just… he wanted…

But Aaron had turned to him anyway. Unwaveringly steady, where Robert was starting to lose his grip.

He’d caught Robert then, with his heart beating outside his chest, and his eyes had lowered to his lips, asking for more.

And Robert had gone to him.)

–but they don’t talk about it.

Aaron watches him. “You’re up to something.”

Aaron can prove fuck all. Robert’s always up to something. He’s the man with the plan.

“It’s just… we’ve been doing this for half a year now. We’re good at it. We’re not common thugs, Aaron, we’re Supervillains. We’re going to snatch the world from them one day and they should at least get to know our names.”

Their names. Tethered to each other for the rest of their careers. Inferno and The Operator.

“No faces,” of course not, “but our signature on the scene of the crime. For a real audience, this time.”

They’ve been trying it out, a network of gears scorched into the ground or up a wall, but the powers that be have been able to keep it out of the papers somehow, credit for their work—at least the ones they haven’t been able to hide from the people altogether—being sloppily assigned to gang disputes. “Let’s stick our names under it as well. They’ll have to take notice, “ he says, grin turning wild at the thought.

He can tell Aaron’s starting to give in by the sulk settling in in his cheeks and around his mouth. “Don’t know why you had to wait till now to decide that,” he grumbles quietly, and then stops.

Robert allows himself a small smile at the victory. His tablet screen unlocks.

Aaron’s on board, and he’d known that would be the toughest hurdle to get over, but they still do need a way to get on the final RSVP list. Robert starts another list for that. He wonders if Leyla will know anything. She’s had some experience organising events like these in the past, before she was found out to have swindled millions of pounds from investors and had to leave the country. Or maybe they could comb through the building plans again. See if there’s another way for them to sneak in–

“You saw the article,” he hears.

The digital ink stops its frenzied scrawl across the screen. Instead, it quivers in place, forming a nervous-looking black blob at the end of a half-written letter. “Hm? Oh! You mean the one from the tabloid?” he says to the blob. “Think I saw someone reading it on the train.” He could stop there. He should. But of course, he doesn’t. “You two make a cute couple.”

“You’re jealous,” Aaron accuses.

(So maybe they don’t talk about the kiss, but sometimes they do talk around it.)

Robert doesn’t flinch. He looks over at Aaron, schooling his face into the picture of incredulity. “Of you?” he scoffs. “What, you think I’ve been secretly pining after the Red Rider all this time?” Robert laughs, shaking his head at that. He knows he’s overdoing it, just a touch, but that’s kind of the point.

It works. Aaron looks thrown off for a couple of beats, and then his face falls, before a carefully blank mask gets put up in its place. “What,” he says, mouth tight around the word.

Wait, no. “No, no, no, I’m not,” he rushes to assure Aaron, serious this time, and feels like he can breathe again once Aaron’s shoulders start to lower.

He almost regrets correcting him so quickly, with the way Aaron’s back to squinting at him and making Robert want to run.

After painful several silent minutes of Robert avoiding his gaze in favour of animating an illustration of the pair of them cackling next to a mountain of stolen dryadrium (aesthetically more impressive than drawing them cackling next to a small, 35 gram pile, however accurate), he peeks up just in time to catch Aaron scratch at his brow and shake his head at the table between them like he can’t believe this is what his life has come to. Robert relates deeply.

“It wasn’t–” Aaron gestures uselessly with his hand, turning pink in the face.

Robert watches him struggle. “What?” he asks, around the grin on his face.

Aaron’s glare might be more effective if he isn’t still blushing hard. “He walked right into me outside the cafe, and then he wouldn’t stop,” more gestures at his face, which is pulled into a grimace, “smiling.” He says this the way only he would when confronted with a too-friendly, (allegedly) good looking superhero: with confusion and a healthy amount of dread. Robert tries not to smile. “You know how they lose their heads over ‘im.” He shrugs like Robert hasn’t been moping and plotting all morning over this.

He’s got a point, though. The tabloids were dead set on the Red Rider hiding a secret family in Spain only last month. Two weeks after that, they were speculating on wedding colours after a picture of him chatting with a cashier at the grocer’s started circulating. Why he felt the need to do his shopping in his hero suit is anyone’s guess.

Also, Robert possibly spends too much time reading the tabloids.

Robert clears his throat. “I wasn’t thinking that.”

“Sure you weren’t.”

He doesn’t know why Aaron’s smirking quite so much, because it’s true. He wasn’t. Robert knows Aaron can do miles better than that self-important twat.

“And you deciding to rob the facility during the gala has nothing to do with the Red Rider being there, yeah?”

“As if,” Robert says, verging on petulant. “This really is the best chance we’ve got of getting our names out,” he insists, which is also true. And that’s when another thought hits him. Oh, he thinks. You idiot.

Because what if being professionally tied to him is the last thing Aaron wants for himself? They’ll be sharing more than headlines. They’ll be sharing successes, failures, enemies. And even if (when an uncharitable voice in his head injects) Aaron decides one day that he’s had enough of dealing with him, the consequences of their partnership will stick with him.

“We can wait, if,” Robert shrugs glumly, “this isn’t something you want.” He hopes he doesn’t sound too miserable. “If you think we’re going too fast, or–”

“I already agreed to it, you muppet,” Aaron informs him. “But if you’ve changed your mind again,” he rolls his eyes, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “guess it saves me having to buy a suit.”

“I’ll buy you the suit.” Robert doesn’t need Aaron staring back at him in surprise to know how quickly he’d said that, and how embarrassingly low and rough his voice had gone then.

An eternity passes before Aaron finally mumbles out a “Sure, whatever,” at the table, his cheeks pinking again.

“Yeah,” Robert starts, eager to salvage some of his dignity. “Now that we’ve settled that, let’s go over some of the other details.” He lets his tablet float to the middle of the table and resolves to not look at Aaron, or his twitching lips, or his knowing looks, for the next 15 minutes at least. He has a plan to perfect.

#robron #theirdarkmaterials #*mine: fic #emmerdale

42 notes · View notes

just-another-thundermans-blog · 4 years

Text

All Alone - Chapter 3 (Final Chapter)

Title: In the end, it doesn't even matter~

Beginning - Previous

---

TRIGGER WARNING: SUCCESSFUL SUICIDE, ANXIETY, ANXIETY ATTACK, MENTIONS OF PTSD SYMPTOMS, AND TRAUMA! IF ALL OF THIS TRIGGERS YOU THEN DON'T READ!

-0-

Max felt hopeless. He felt like nothing in this life mattered anymore. He lay on his bed in Blobbin's mansion (he accepted the offer because what else could he do?) feeling nothing but a desolate ache in his chest. He felt horrible and couldn't even get himself to do more than the bare minimum required of him to survive ('Thank you Blobbin, but I'm not really hungry right now…').

Blobbin (bless his kind soul) tried his best to cheer Max up, but nothing seemed to lift the 15-year-old's spirits even one bit. Max was stuck in a pit of complete darkness and he saw no light in sight. The shock and anger had both died out to leave behind them a twisted mixture of grief and loss that threatened to swallow him whole. His chest ached with a phantom pain akin to someone who had their heart carved out of their chest in the most brutal way possible.

Sometimes, he would awake in the middle of the night from fresh memories of a horrific day that was supposed to be normal. He would awake with the phantom feeling of affectionate pats on his back and motherly kisses on his cheek plaguing him as ghosts of his family swirled around his consciousness. He would awake with the feeling of adrenaline pumping in his veins and the pain of devastation and failure weighing heavily on his chest like a sack of bricks.

Every night passed with him getting less than enough sleep. Every night passed with him staring at the walls of his room with glazed eyes and ragged breathing, as memories from a time long past played behind his retinas. Every night passed with hot, sticky tears staining his cheeks and pillow as he attempted to contain his pain and horror.

His life felt bleak and hopeless. There was no one to fill it with joy anymore; not his parents, not his siblings, and most certainly not his best friend. There was no one left for him to impress. There was no one left for him to love. There was no one.

What was the point of anything anymore if the people that he wanted to make proud, if the people he loved, weren't there anymore? His life purpose ('I'm gonna become the greatest supervillain anyone will ever see!') meant nothing.

In the end… it doesn't even matter because the people who counted were gone forever.

-0-

It was barely 3 weeks after the funeral when Max decided he wanted to visit his Hiddenville house. Blobbin was (naturally) surprised. After all, Max (when presented with the key to the house and told that he was the sole owner of it after the cleanup) had expressed complete disinterest in the fate of the building. He had the key, that was true, but he couldn't care less about what happened to it.

There were days where Max wanted to go and sort through his family's belongings, but he never quite had enough courage to go through with the idea. Thinking about the house alone hurt (it caused a painful pang to go through his chest and his throat to constrict) so what would happen to him the moment he stepped in?

He guessed he'll find out in due time.

The letter left by the villain was also delivered to him a few days ago. He didn't know what to do with it. He wanted to read it (duh, that's what you're supposed to do dumbass-) but at the same time… he felt… scared of it.

He had admired Dark Mayhem for the longest time. The villain was among the best of the best and his penchant for destruction was legendary! He once aspired to surpass him but, somehow, he never realized what that would entail.

Dark Mayhem was a villain, yes. Only he was a murderer too.

He never realized it, Colosso had never told him. Max was ignorant and foolish and he absolutely never realized that in order to surpass Dark Mayhem-

He'd have to kill thousands upon thousands of innocent people.

Max wanted to be a villain, yes. Only he never wanted to be a cold-hearted murderer.

It was no wonder that everyone around him thought it was a phase. A mere hyper fixation on an idea that was both forbidden and untouchable. His dad had told him countless times to stop pretending to be a villain, and at the time, he thought the man had said it to be cruel, but now…

Now he knows better. His eyes have been peeled open in the harshest way possible and he understood the true meaning behind his father's words. Being a villain suddenly meant something completely different than before.

It wasn't just about being evil and tormenting people. No. It was about being prepared to sacrifice your humanity and becoming a monster.

And Max? Max was never (and will never be) willing to become a monster.

-0-

It took a lot of time ('A hero never stalls Max, you should always be prepared to face the inevitable and conquer your fear!) but, in the end, he gathered his courage and read the letter. Nothing could be worse than the hell he saw in his house that day in Hiddenville (he was absolutely sure) or so he thought.

The contents of the letter itself were, by all means, completely normal. Nothing dangerous was jotted down in the simple paper, and there was absolutely no information to help tell who the sender was.

No… There was nothing dangerous. Only the insinuations each word dug into his heart.

He just couldn't get over the contents of the letter. The double meaning behind the words, the thinly veiled insinuations that littered the page, the information that was laid in plain sight for the world to see- all of it piled upon him and crushed him in a way he had never felt before.

Was he-

Was he the reason everyone died? Was it because Dark Mayhem set his sights on him? Was this-

Was this sort of some twisted attempt at grooming?

He felt sick and he couldn't breathe no matter how hard he tried. Everything felt like it was going in slow motion and it was as though time stopped as images of his dead family replayed in his mind's eye.

Gosh- gosh he was going to be sick.

The same line repeated itself in his head over and over again like a sick mantra. A symphony of regret and horror as he realized the implications behind the words written on the letter.

'I didn't think doing this was a good idea, but Dark Mayhem insisted that it will help you grow into a proper villain.'

Dark Mayhem commanded the attack on his house. He knew that. What he didn't know was that the attack was orchestrated for the sake of molding him into a 'proper' villain.

His stomach churned violently and Max found himself flying to his feet (off his plain bed) and into the bathroom adjacent to his room. He emptied what little contents his stomach had into the toilet as tears of agony prickled at the edges of his eyes.

He couldn't-

He couldn't take this anymore.

I can't, the thought repeated itself in his head like a song on loop, I can't.

He felt a sob tear itself out of his throat and he laid his forehead on the edge of the toilet seat in utter misery.

He can't take this anymore. He can't. He can't. He can't.

And it was with that desolate realization that Max Thunderman finally shattered.

-0-

“Max? A-are you ready to head out?”

Max lifted his head from his pillow and blinked. His eyes skirted over to the clock on the right wall of his room and the boy found himself frowning. Barely an hour passed since he read the letter but, to him, it felt like an eternity had passed. He felt awful, more awful than he had ever felt, and was seriously considering staying at the mansion and leaving the house visit for another day.

“Max?” Blobbin’s voice echoed hesitantly in the (almost) bare room.

Max rubbed his eyes tiredly and forced himself to his feet. Every muscle in his body ached in protest and he could feel his Thundersense blaring at the edges of his subconscious. He ignored the bad feeling in his body in favor of responding to Blobbin.

“Yeah. I-” Max licked his lips as his voice threatened to crack with the intensity of his decision, “I’m ready.”

Blobbin frowned worriedly, “Are you sure? We can always go on another day.”

Max pursed his lips and bowed his head. It was tempting, really, it was, but he had already made up his mind (and Max Thunderman was nothing if not stubborn), “Nah, I want to go today.” the boy mumbled quietly, “Besides, I might chicken out if we schedule it for later.” Max admitted, shrugging as he made his way over to Blobbin.

Blobbin looked at him with concern for a moment, “Alright then,” The man muttered resignedly, “If you say so.”

Max pursed his lips and shoved his sweaty hands into his jacket’s (incidentally the same jacket he wore on that day) pockets. Visiting his house would not be pleasant if the loud blaring of sirens in the back of his head was any indication.

-0-

Max blinked sluggishly as he took in the sight of his Hiddenville house. Outwardly, the house looked pretty normal. Perfect white paint, a somewhat maintained lawn, shiny windows, etc… Everything was in order and, had he not known any better, Max would have never thought that anything as dark as a… as a massacre went on in here.

The boy felt anxiety churning in his gut as he took shaky steps forward. Internally, he knew that he shouldn't be feeling this way, but he couldn't help it. Bad memories were springing up unbidden from where he had (figuratively) shoved them in his mind and he couldn't stop the almost violent trembling in his right hand as he tried to insert the key into the lock on the front door.

Of course, his hand was shaking too badly and, as such, he kept missing his mark. Grunting in frustration, the boy took a deep breath to steady his nerves and fought the urge to toss the key into the bushes out of pure anger.

Blobbin, who was standing right behind Max at a respectable distance, cautiously approached the irritated teen and held his arm, "M-maybe I should do it?" The man stated hesitantly.

Max exhaled through his nose and nodded, handing over the little key to Blobbin. The 15-year-old took a step back and bowed his head. Being here was really getting to him if the tears that sprung up at the corner of his eyes were any indication. He felt hopelessly lost as his emotions warred in his belly.

"Max?"

Max snapped his head up as he blinked the tears away. Blobbin had already opened the door and was fidgeting nervously in front of the open entrance.

The boy felt his hands shake a bit more violently now that the door was open but cleverly disguised it by shoving his hands inside his pockets. He shakily took a few steps forward and paused next to Blobbin, "Y'know," Max started quietly as he took a look inside the dim house, "You don't have to enter if you don't want to."

Max felt Blobbin relax slightly next to him, "Are you sure? You don't want me to come?" The man asked, trying to mask the slight tinge of hope in his tone.

Max felt something dark settle inside his abdomen as his eyes tracked the dim entrance of the house, "Yeah. I'll be fine on my own." He mumbled distractedly as his Thundersense screamed at him to turn away quickly.

Blobbin completely relaxed and started inching his way towards the car (limousine), "If you say so," The former sidekick mumbled in obvious relief.

Max waited until he heard the tell-tale bang of the car door closing and then entered the building. The atmosphere inside the house had a slightly musty feeling to it and Max couldn't help but frown at the overwhelming smell of dust and slight decay that dominated the entrance.

Quickly switching the lights open with his telekinesis, Max shut the front door with his foot and stepped forward. He looked around the house as an overwhelming and slightly painful feeling of nostalgia threatened to swallow him whole.

Max gulped slightly as nostalgia exchanged places with dread the moment he stepped into the living room. Horrific images of his dead family were suddenly all he could see as he gazed upon the area where his mother and father once lied.

He felt a strange noise tear its way out of his chest as he took a step backward in alarm, the sight of the dead bodies proving too much for him to handle once more before reality managed to bleed through the images his mind had concocted.

Max panted as both anxiety and terror clawed at his gut. His heart jumped to his throat and all he could hear was the violent pounding of his heart.

Max felt tears prickle at his eyes as he remained rooted to his spot in the living room. What was he thinking? Coming here so soon- he wasn't ready (nor will he ever be)! The 15-year-old boy covered his face as he felt all his strength and resolve leave him.

Blindly, almost in a trance, Max forced himself away from the living room and made his way to his lair. He couldn't deal with this, not now, so maybe a place of solitude was all he needed (or so he told himself anyway).

The boy shakily went down the stairs (the slide felt too distasteful by now) as he attempted to calm down. Anxiety and something darker than he could have anticipated both clawed at his mind like a hungry pack of wolves would a prey and Max suddenly felt trapped inside his own body.

He wanted out. Out of this, out of everything, he wanted out out out out outoutoutout!

Max felt himself hyperventilate as he took in his surroundings. Nothing in his lair was actually touched. Everything remained in the same place. Old experiments, pieces of unfinished gadgets, his monitor, Dr. Colosso's cage, everything.

That should have given him some form of comfort, knowing that his safest place in the world remained untouched. It didn't.

Max felt pain and a horrible sense of nostalgia and deja-vu attack him with vigor as the normalcy the room provided clashed heavily with the circumstances of his visit. His mind went on overdrive as it searched for an escape, anything to help him let the pain out, and the boy found himself frantically pacing around the room in a panic as his throat clogged and his vision began to go dark at the edges.

And then it caught his eye. A big familiar blue button that he personally designed a few weeks ago. He remembered the circumstances behind the destruction of the first such button and felt his insides go cold with terror and anticipation.

He tried to not think about it, he did, but the dark seed had already been planted in his mind and was quickly corrupting it against his wishes. The boy gulped silently as dark thoughts and possibilities began to cloud his judgement and before he knew it, he found himself pressing on the button.

Max's insides, still feeling frigid with anxiety, terror, and anticipation, twisted and churned in a twisted parody of something dying and writhing. He felt the cold metal of the table on which the button was on start to go warm under his sweaty hands.

The boy stepped back slowly until his back hit a wall and slid down. He felt all fight and fear and regret bleed from his body as his mind recognized the inevitable end. Trying to find comfort in his last moments, Max shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. Feeling something soft and sharp brush against his left hand, the boy carefully curled his fingers around it and pulled it out of his pocket to carefully examine it.

Feeling his eyes widening, Max carefully read the slight paper in his grasp and felt his hand began to fist around it as a fresh wave of grief and guilt hit his chest. He was right, he didn't remember the slip his stupid English teacher gave him. Not until it was too late.

Sobs began to tear out of the teen's chest as he finally allowed himself to grief one more time before the countdown to the self-destruction of his lair began, bearing its ominous promise of doom. He brought his fisted left hand to his forehead as tears flowed freely down his face and sorrow permanently stained his soul.

He barely heard the final number being uttered before his senses were captivated in a white-hot blaze of brief agony and then the nothingness of death.

#the thundermans #max thunderman #fanfiction #death fic #sady sad sad #sad yeehaw #poor max #suicide

14 notes · View notes