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algesalges · 2 years

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Vers Moi: Part 9

Chamber x fem!reader

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (18+)

Mwhahahaha I have been gone but I have returned

Warnings: Choking, hitting, consent and protection (NEEDED USE IT), penetration, oral (fem recieving), bad grammar, pls dm me if need any more warnings and pls ENJOY

Intro, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

Brim has become more tense, and so has your relationship. Though they were different kinds of tensions, yours being that you have not been able to get any alone time with Vincent, and Brim's being tense because something has risen. He was more grumpy and loaded you with more paperwork. He seems to be trying to get everything out of the way, but you could never figure out what it was that bothered him so much.

Even after you are done, your work Chamber has left to receive the package for the protocol. What was it? You have no idea. When he was about to leave he kissed you in a hurry outside the jett, said he would return and bring you a souvenir.

You weren't allowed to know where he was heading, but it related to his own personal work.

It's been about a week since there were no messages or updates. Brim and Cypher were the only ones aware of his doings, but asking them would be very out of the blue. The loneliness started to etch. You felt abandoned, even knowing he was just at work. The no messaging policy from the protocol while on missions ticked you off. The only ones able to communicate with agents are the others assigned to the mission. You were not part of that objective.

He must've gone somewhere far from headquarters, or there must've been a quarl getting the package. Maybe the mission went wrong and he needed to relocate.

Single person missions aren't difficult. Just asking for maybe some extra safety.

It became late; all the lights were off except for your little desk lamp. You plopped the last folder on the stack and stretched your back. Another day has passed with no victory. You headed to the dining area to earn yourself your favourite snack. while rummaging through the cupboard. Killjoy came around, heading to the coffee machine.

You tilt your head, knowing that this was not Kj's first or last cup; what is she doing?

"Kj, you're going to regret that."

I know, I know, I know y/n, but I must finish this"!

You walk by Kj, who is eyeing the coffee as it pours out of the machine.

"So, what are you working on?"

She snickered, "Well you, boyfrie-"

You shut Kj's mouth, before coming back to sanity and waving yourself off, "boyfriend whatttttt"

Kj elbowed you, "Chamber works in the lab along with me and Raze. I've seen you two sneaking around."

Your face flushed with embarrassment.

“Don't worry, but anyway, he gave me some blueprints. Call it my next biggest project."

She explained that it is a teleporter, but it allows you to walk through rifts like Yoru.

You were amazed, but how did Chamber even get those blueprints?

You went to bed after finishing your snack and bantering with KJ. The night seemed long; you only wished Vincent would return tomorrow, knowing full well that this might not be the case.You showered and changed into a shirt Chamber had given you a while ago, which still had his scent on it.You wanted to feel him close, like that night before. You just need me all to yourself for a moment. You have never missed someone so much. You wonder if he feels the same way you do.

Night started to creep in, and your eyes were heavy with sleep, but the discomfort between your thighs bothered you enough to keep awake. You shut your eyes, hoping your body would cool off on its own. The room was dark. You heard rustling outside your room, people walking past having conversations. You wondered if they would mind moving to another door so you could sleep. You roll away from the door, thumping onto your side, covering your ear with a pillow.

A quick motion of someone grabbing your ankles spewed you awake. You struggled to remove the covers from your face, balancing on both of your elbows, you noticed a snide, familiar smirk looking down on you. Before even saying hello, his lips smashed into you. He breathed heavily, as if he had emerged from water. His arms were wrapped around your torso, his hands grabbing at any flesh he could crawl into.

You pulled him away by his hair to earn yourself some air. He let out a hungry growl and tore away from you.

"I missed you, it was cruel being kept from you" he hisses out.

Before exchanging words, you were pulled over his shoulder to be plopped down in the centre of the bed, placing his lips back onto yours. You moaned as he fondled your right breast. He never let you go.

He removed himself from you, "Are you alright if we continue"?

You nodded engly. He removed his neck tie with his vest and blouse, granting you access to his bare skin. The golden rays shone from the moonlight, accentuating his chiselled body. You always admired how low the rays would go, all the way down to his legs, right onto his love handles. You always blushed at the image. Now seeing it again in person heated your core.

He took the band of your bottoms, slipping them off you. You removed your shirt to reveal your hardened buds. He latched onto them immediately, sucking them on. He nipped and bit. You tried to pull him off of it, but insistence biting instead drove him to go towards your neck, somewhere you weren't quite fond of leaving marks. Chamber didn't care about the consequences at the moment; he'd buy you all the top brands of concealer if he had to; all he needs is to finally have you.

He licked up to your sweet spot, latching onto it. Your body shifted to the sensation. He slithered a digit into your begging core. You winced at the sudden intrusion. Soon later, he adds another, whilst still paying attention to your neck. You shifted your hips onto his fingers, trying to receive more stimulation. Vincent started to perform a scissor motion to release you. He curled his fingers, hitting that certain spot, making your thighs shake from the intensity of the stimulation.

Before you could reach your peak, he pulled away, leaving you to whine as you watched him remove his boxers. He pumped his member, while ripping a condom wrapper with his teeth, it slid the latex of his shaft then spread your thighs more apart to grant him more access. He first teased the tip of your entrance, then finally swiftly entered. He hissed as your core clenched around his member. Your pupils were dilated, still high from pleasure, "Mon dieu, I could die from this". He planted a kiss on your lips while giving a hard buck touching the tip of your cervix causing you to roll your head giving out a hefty moan. His thrust continues with consistent hitting that spot, your core, his hips slapping deep against your core. Your nails dig into his back with each buck. A knot is starting to form in your lower tummy. Your legs start to ache from being spread leaving room for Vincent to pummel your poor cunny.

“Are you near mon amour? I can feel clenching around me”.

You were to fucked out to respond, which did not please him. You winced from the harsh sting on your breast, his hand clasped around your windpipe. You look up to him with bambi eyes seeing his predator eyes. “I’ll ask you again ma chere”.

You held onto his arm giving him a nod.

“Good girl”.

His other hand went to pay attention to your pearl. Your hips bucked as the knot grew tighter, you looked up to him, “go ahead my dear, let me feel you”.

Your body follows in command, you convulse, your thighs shake. Chamber seems satisfied with your obedience.

Vincent slows his pace, you notice he didn’t seem to finish. Instead he flips you around, grabbing your hips leaving your head still laid onto the mattress. He admires his work before latching onto your bud, sucking harshly. You tried to run your hips from the overstimulation, but his arms are wrapped around your thighs as he continues to lap up your fluids. You whine from the intrusion of his tongue. Believe that he does this for his satisfaction as well, his hips rut unknowligy aching for any stimulation, as your sweet taste indulges his appetite.

You start to feel that painful knot again, you whine from the overstimulation. The ache hurts so much but you want it so bad. Your hips start to bounce onto his trying to get to that breaking point. You spasm from your reach bouncing onto his tongue.

Chamber lifts from your hips giving a bruising spank before leaning into you, sliding back inside. He folds his fingers into yours, swaying his hips into you. His breath, he groans in your ear each time you clench down. Your cheeks filled with tears, your eyes struggle to keep open. “V-ince-nt”.

He tucks yours hair stuck from your forehead behind your ear.

“Yes my dear”? “To-o- much, plea-se”

He couldn’t deny your plea, “I understand baby, I’m almost there”.

So were you, that burning sensation started to bubble in your lower abdomen, You gripped onto the sheets listening to Chamber’s breath intensify. You felt him twitch. The knot became too much to bear, your climax was painful yet full of pleasure. You felt Chamber’s thrusts become sloppier, knowing he was close.

One last harsh thrustand the rubber full of cum. You felt warm, finally back in his presence. Vincent rolled over to face you. You caressed his jaw, giving him a small peck,

“Is this how you say hello”?

#Chamber #Chamber x reader #Chamber x y/n #chamber valorant #chamber x reader #chamber smut #chamber x y/n #valorant x reader #valorant x y/n #valorant smut #Valorant x reader #Valorant x y/n #Chamber Valorant #Chamber smut #Valorant smut #Chamber x fem!reader #chamber x fem!reader

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acorncoffeeformysweetheart · 2 months

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Okay, I decided to edit that fic and write a whole post about the furniture in the Cabot house. Spoiler alert: yes, Ed and Sole finally kissed after two years of awkward tension (even though Sole already has these two dumbasses, Mac and Gage).

I thought this could be a nice example of environmental storytelling. I understand that it is impossible to realize this in such a large game, but I can write about it.

Let me start by saying that five years after the bombs fell, Ed decided to get married, which made Jack absolutely mad. Ed left the job, but four months later, Jack and Emogene apologized and begged him to come back because they could not find anyone suitable to replace Ed. He agreed to return. Jack began to behave much more respectfully, gave Ed a big raise in salary, and a large room on the first floor next to the kitchen.

I found this photo three years ago and fell in love with it. It’s very close to what I’m thinking about. "Went to get wood", Wood, found objects, ≈12’x9’x10’, 2008 - by Ethan Hayes-Chute

Ed, like many ghouls, has sleep issues, and his room is very different from the rest of the house. It is painted dark green (even the ceiling). Thick, heavy curtains hang from the window. The bed is just huge, 2+ meters, because Ed himself is fucking huge two-door brick-built fridge. And this bed is for sleeping. No one in their mind would bring women to the house they are working for, especially since Ed was generally not interested in this (his wife and child lived in the next house). So, the bed takes up a significant part of the room; there are several different blankets and a dozen of pillows on it, and when Ed sleeps, he buries himself in them like in a nest (quite funny, yes). He even has this silly pillow stuffed with aromatic herbs that you put under your main pillow to make it smell nice.

He has a lot of strange things in there because his duties include working with caravan owners, knowing who sells what, where, and when, and seeing a lot of different things. And periodically, he buys something for himself because, why not?

After all, when a single mature man works a lot, he should have his me-time and me-things. And Ed has several hobbies. He loves good clothes. He gathered a whole collection of these goddamned (oh, I adore them) Irish grandpa caps (although he had a hat for any occasion, the sun of the wasteland will burn your bald head). He drinks a lot and smokes like twice as much as Sole and Mac together.

So his room, still perfectly clean, has a lot of stuff in it. A large wardrobe (because he has a lot of good clothes for weekends and even has a seamstress friend who sews for him), a full-length pre-war mirror—a true rarity. Several large shelves with books, notebooks, and folders with blueprints—because he does all the engineering work around the house (after all, he is a former navy engineer; during the war he served on a ship, and he has been on airships and loves them), looks after weapons and equipment, and also helps Jack with the simple stages of his research. Large work desk. A comfortable armchair for reading (oh, I adore the fact that the community unanimously considers him a reading person).

Soon after the assault on Parsons, one by one, the Cabots died. Ed buried them and grieved. He drank for three months and even gave the cats to Daisy because he was afraid he wouldn't be able to take good care of them. Then he joined one of the caravans and worked as a security guard for six months just to get his mind off things, to be in the fresh air, and to be around people, not for money.

Then he pulled himself together and returned to the house. You know, this may sound cool—I inherited a house like this. But in reality, no. And Ed didn't want that. After all, he could live anywhere.

He took off paintings and removed unnecessary furniture. When Sole came for the first time after a long break, she was very surprised. The living room and dining room (in fact, Ed moved there) greatly changed. They have lost their fashionable gloss but have become warmer and cozier. It was immediately obvious that he now lives here. There was a knitted blanket and colored pillows on the sofa. Instead of that huge portrait, Ed hung a simple rug, the kind Sole had seen in farmers' houses. There were books on the coffee table, by the sofa, and on the dining table. An open bottle of whiskey and a glass. Ed carried the wood-burning stove into the dining room and carefully routed its chimney out the window. On it stood a large, bulbous copper kettle. Simple clay bowls and one huge crooked wooden one for all the weird beer snacks Sole loved so much.

He almost stopped using electricity, except for the reading lamp. There were now large grease candles in metal trays everywhere. And one oil glass lamp (similar to Orthodox icon lamps in Sole’s homeland) so that there is always a fire lit at home, from which you can light a cigarette (he still tried not to smoke in the house, although no one could stop him). I think there should be a smoking balcony with chairs and potted cacti. Ed used to smoke there with Emogene. There was never anything romantic between them, but she sympathized with him and loved his company.

Overall, it was a large and lonely house. It saw a lot. So when Gage asked Ed to come live with them on the lake, Ed was very relieved. Everything has become easier. He was a simple man, and his pleasures were simple. Beloved woman nearby. Beautiful view. A friend's little funny son (Ed loves children and got along well with Duncan). Clean water to bathe at any time. Farm animals. The forest. The caravan still comes once every ten days; you can have a drink and listen to their stories. You can take a boat and go fishing. You can even pack your stuff and go to the sea or to Diamond City if you really want to. Life is good.

At the farm, Ed lives not in the house itself but in the former boat house and workshop, in which part of it was first fenced off, and later another room was added. The room was small, and most of it was taken up by the bed. Pillows and blankets. Books are on shelves under the ceiling. In the same place where a huge amount of dried herbs hung. Ed continued to distill and collect herbs for infusions, cooking, and medicine. He made delicious tea, massage-soothing cream, and even a little perfume on holidays as gifts. Sole loved sleeping in his bed during the day; the room was always cool and smelled deliciously of herbs, wood, and oil. Calm and safe.

#lakeside au #text post #lakeside lore #worldbuilding

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parsnipping · 2 years

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A Kylux rp excerpt I adore

Just a quick excerpt from one of my fave rps with my partner, who plays the best Kylo ugh love him so much.

Please be aware that it's in rp format! Also we're playing fast and loose with canon. It gets spicy later on but it's still ongoing so no full fic form yet!

It was the third time in as many days that Hux went back to his office in a rage, holding back the fury just until the door was closed. The moment it made the soft click he rounded his desk and opened up a cabinet, pulling out a scotch glass and the half full decanter of the brandy he had been nursing over the past year. Normally he didn't allow himself to drink while angry, not wanting to follow in his father's footsteps, but he needed something after that disastrous meeting with Snoke. Delays in his Starkiller project due to his perfectionism were grating on Snoke's patience, meanwhile that damnable beast in black received nothing but encouragement and praise. He refused to say he was jealous. He was simply annoyed at the favoritism. He was annoyed that his hard work was only seen as a nuisance because it hadn't yielded physical results. He drained the two fingers of brandy he'd poured, then refilled it with another three before pulling up the blueprints and scouring them again.

Kylo didn't need to scan the Force to know exactly where Hux was; as cool as the general could be in front of Snoke, his anger burned like a tower beacon once the communication array was cold. It was this beacon he followed, his path winding to the office door. He didn't knock, the Force flexing gently around him to activate the door and he strode in without warning. In his hands was an unplugged caf machine, very clearly stolen from the mess hall, the wall mountings dangling with stubborn chunks of wall plating still attached.

As he heard the door opening without warning, Hux startled and immediately yelled, "Who the hell do you think you are--" Oh. It was him. Hux's brows tightened together when he saw Ren carrying something, and once he realized what it was the incredulous tone in his voice only shot up even more. "Is that-- you stole a caf machine?! Why?!"

Kylo waited for the door to shut before depositing the machine on the opposing chair, beginning to work the mount screws out of the wall panels as if he had not just done something extremely weird. "You don't have a caf machine in here." As if that explained it entirely.

"I--" Hux was flabbergasted. He didn't even know where to begin. Finally he managed to string together a decent enough sentence that he wouldn't embarrass himself. "And just where are you expecting to install it? And how?"

Kylo's blank mask turned towards Hux, tilting slightly as if confused. "The wall?" He dropped a panel piece to the floor and placed the mount screws on the desk, working on the next set as he nodded towards the blueprints. "Starkiller, yes? That's why you're angry?"

Hux blinked, then promptly ignored what the man was doing. Ridiculous. Why in the world would he be installing a caf machine-- "I see. This is an underhanded message isn't it? Telling me to get this project done already. As if I haven't poured every second of time I have away from the bridge and my other duties into this project!"

Kylo snorted, the sound distorted in his mask before it faded into a chuckle. "Underhanded is not a word people use for me, General." He lifted the unit, holding it out to gauge its location on the wall before setting it down again, approaching to look over the wall panels critically. "Supreme Leader Snoke is the one worried about time tables. I'm not concerned with such trivialities."

"So you're saying this isn't some message he's had you bring me? I find that hard to believe." His eyes raked up and down Ren's figure, less out of any attraction and more searching for any signs of danger. "To answer your question, of course I'm angry about Starkiller. This is my life's work, my magnum opus so to speak. It must be perfect, even if that means delays."

"I'm not a message boy." For once, Ren seemed entirely harmless, beyond the sheer imposition of his frame and the fact that he walked into the office carrying the prize of his destructive force. He was intently focused on the wall for a moment longer before he drew his saber, the plasma hissing and spitting briefly before he took the crossbar to the wall and carefully bored a hole into the metal. The reek of melting metal and ozone filled the air and just as quickly as it had started, his lightsaber was back at his side and he was wrestling the caf machine back into his hands. "I am eager for it would be done, but I do not expect you to be faster than the minds behind the Empire's Death Star. You're building something far greater. I would be displeased to see it vulnerable due to hastiness."

"What in blazes are you doing?!" Hux didn't dare try to stop Ren physically, but he desperately wanted to. "Stop putting holes in my ship! I didn't ask for you to rip a caf machine from the wall to install it in my office you great beast!!"

"You like caf." As if that made all of it make even one iota of sense, Kylo lifted the machine up to the wall and pinned the mount points against the holes he had made. The screws flew off the desk into his free hand one by one as he began to screw them into the half-melted slag in the wall. It would be significantly less likely to fall off a wall with the screws, especially if they ended up sealing into place with the molten remains.

Hux was left speechless, and he poured himself another bit of the liquor, draining it in one go. "Stars above what is going on... Why do I need one in my office though?! I have one in my quarters and I'm perfectly capable of walking to the officer's mess hall!" Only then did Ren's words about his project really sink in, and he stared down at his empty glass. "You..." He paused, then pursed his lips, setting the glass down on the desk a little harder than he meant to. "Of course you don't want to see my design vulnerable. Because it's benefiting you and Snoke as much as the rest of the Order. And that's all you two really care about, isn't it?"

"If Supreme Leader Snoke and I perceive the same value in your work, why then do we have separate opinions on it?" Kylo continued working on the machine as if Hux had not gone through the five stages of grief behind him, patting the sides of it to ensure its stability before nodding to himself. Stable and not going anywhere any time soon. He turned his attention to the dangling wires and tubing, beginning the delicate process of reconnecting all the necessary bits as he spoke. "Walking to the mess hall is an excursion that leaves you open to distraction. More than once, you have been diverted. This-" he patted the front of the machine again. "-will allow you to stay sequestered until you truly require a change of scenery." He paused then, lifting his helm to gaze blankly in Hux's direction. "You think very loudly when you do not see me, and I have overheard your anger when you're taken off track."

Frowning deeply, Hux regarded the work being done and scoffed. "This is going to look ghastly. Do you even know what you're doing?" Time for another drink, he thought, though he made sure to pour less and sip more this time. "I see. So I'll have to keep a closer guard to my thoughts no matter where you are? Though anyone would be irritated to be taken off course. Especially on their off hours. Hence why I have one installed in my quarters."

"More than you think I do." Kylo fingers found the edge of a wall panel, wrenching the small panel aside with an atonal squeal to reveal the wiring he would need to get the machine powered. It was Ben's knowledge he was using, if he was honest with himself, but even at his angriest, he couldn't deny the usefulness of some of Ben's lessons. "You've been delayed between here and your quarters as well. This is to keep you unbothered when you are at work." The live wire scorched his glove as he worked the pieces together; it was not seamless, as he was without tools, but it was functional and safe. What did it matter, if it was going back behind the wall anyway? "What troubles you now? Is it Snoke's haste or is there something in the design?"

Hux almost looked to be pouting. Almost. He took another sip from his glass before replying, "Both. There are sections I need to restructure, to make up for some power losses. It'll bring up the heat, and that will require extra cooling, and that takes time to redesign and test. Your master thinks I've taken too long as it is, and wants me to move forward with the building. It's not ready. And I refuse to piece it together as I go with full size materials."

"Something of your proposed size will generate plenty of its own heat even without power loss. Where the Death Star was a satellite, your Starkiller aims to be its orbiting planet." Kylo chuckled, his mood lightening slightly as he imagined the sheer affront some of the Old Guard would feel over the very notion of the Death Star as a mere moon-shadow. "Perhaps instead of cooling systems, you should look into creating its own ecosystem. I imagine ice-caps would certainly assist in keeping certain systems cool." He leaned back on his knees, looking over the tangle of wires appraisingly before tucking them back into the panel and forcing the metal flat again. It was, as expected, ghastly looking. But the caf machine powered up perfectly fine and began running through diagnostics. "All that water would likely destroy the terminals though..."

Hux idly listened as Ren spoke, but the more he elaborated the more Hux's eyes widened. It felt insane, but it might be one of those insane ideas that work. "Ren... I think you're onto something there." Suddenly he was up and pulling out his datapad, fingers flying over keys as he searched, pulling up hundreds of possible candidates, looking for something that was habitable, cold enough to keep from melting immediately upon firing, and wouldn't encroach on any Republic or other territories. The last thing he needed was a full blown fight over a planet. Finally, he settled on three candidates, and his eyes glittered with excitement over the possibilities.

"What?" Kylo blinked, his attention drawn from the caf machine as Hux began tapping through screens rapidly. "Current terraforming technology doesn't work particularly well when the bulk of a surface is metal. I don't think ice caps are all that feasible." Without looking, he reached to the caf machine's buttons and set it to brew, one of Hux's unused brandy glasses zipping through the air to settle where a mug should be.

Despite being enraptured in his search, Hux flung out a hand in an accusatory point. "Hey! Careful with those!" Although he supposed the glass being floated through Ren's Force bullshit was safer than the man actually handling it. "No, no you're on to something. Why terraform the surface? The planet's crust is already meant to protect the core and survive in space. This... this is brilliant."

Kylo blinked, Hux's thoughts just open enough for him to catch the edges, those edges just enough to bring realization crashing around his shoulders. "....you're thinking of restructuring your weapon into a planet." There was a measure of awe in his voice, his vocoder dulling the sound but not killing it. The caf machine dinged and he automatically picked up the glass, setting the black caf onto Hux's desk as he stalked forward to get a glimpse at the datapad. "A planet's core would certainly solve your power loss problem..."

Surprisingly, Hux didn't seem to mind the sudden close proximity, and he absently grabbed the caf, taking a sip from it before startling into a pause. "This... you made it work. You seriously just installed a working caf machine in my office... with zero tools." He leveled a glare at the other. "So not only are you some sort of Force prodigy, but you can engineer enough to do this. What other secret skills are you hiding? Perhaps you're not so incompetent in anything outside of your Force nonsense as I first pinned you."

Kylo turned his blank mask towards Hux, the intensity of his stare hardly dimmed despite the tinted glass and metal hiding his expression. "I have many skills beyond the so-called Force nonsense. Perhaps I will show you my other talents, some day." The vocoder stripped enough of the waver in his voice to remain aloof, though his heart was pounding frantically. That was practically a compliment, and from Hux that was rarer than a smile. "On the other hand, you are implying you are planning to retrofit a planet into a superweapon. Which one of us is hiding skills?"

Hux's eyes lidded in thought as he sipped the caf again, his free hand opening a different folder on his datapad and flicking a file up onto the small holo projector at the end of his desk. It was another set of blueprints, much more crude and clumsy than his current plans, and down at the bottom was a line of very shaky Aurebesh reading 'Mouse Trap', clearly written with a stylus by a child. The corner of his mouth twitched. "I've always been an engineer. My other skills were learned out of necessity for survival." He didn't elaborate, but the look on his face as he gazed at the very simple plan was distant, and not entirely happy.

Kylo turned to view the blueprint, so to speak, his brow cocking invisibly as he looked it over. He could sense the storm somewhere under Hux's skin and he straightened his shoulders, the desire to pry overwhelmed by his will to seek a more intimate connection. "Did it work?" He gestured to the holo. "Your trap."

Whatever expression Hux had on his face was wiped clean and he once again threw up that facade of ice and steel, closing the holo and switching his screen back to the three planets he was reviewing for candidacy. "No. Even after five overhauls in the design and mechanics. Because I didn't factor in that despite being animals that run on instinct and not intelligent choice, they're smart enough to know danger when they sense it. I didn't factor in their innate will to survive." Offering a wry but soulless grin, Hux leaned back in his chair. "I never made that mistake again." His hand moved again, and in a motion that signaled he was clearly done with this topic, flicked up the three planets onto the holo projector. "These are the best suited for your crazy idea. What are your thoughts?"

Kylo felt the steel as keenly as a blade against his skin and he nodded, his arms crossing over his chest as Hux diverted their conversation back to the original topic. "Humans are more apt to ignore their instincts. I imagine your transition was smooth." He considered the planets carefully as they slowly rotated on their axes, tracking what little information was beside them. "I am unfamiliar with these worlds. Are any of them inhabited by sapient species?" His eyes lingered on Ilum, the name catching his mind as quickly as his eyes. "...I have a good feeling about Ilum. According to those coordinates though, Hydrus V is the furthest from Republic patrol routes and less likely to catch any eyes."

Hux's eyes narrowed, not in ire but in a wicked sort of glee. He pulled open a larger map with a pin on Ilum, then slowly drew a straight line directly towards Republic space. It made a direct shot through the Hosnian system. "You and I are of similar mind, it seems. Your instinct about Ilum might also be from the vast deposits of kyber the planet is known for." He didn't need to elaborate. Kyber was all but sacred to Force users, not to mention the power it generated.

Kylo's shoulders tightened at the mention of kyber, his eyes tracing the outline of the planet before nodding abruptly. "Ilum, then, would be my recommendation. Kyber can be tricky to work with, but it is without peer in focus and clarity." He paused, a small sigh escaping his vent. "Provided it is uninhabited. I do not doubt our ability to handle such a concern, but sapient species have a terrible tendency to get messages away when they feel death approaching."

"You needn't worry. It's in fact uninhabited. Nothing but snow, forest, and rock. Apparently there's mostly flora and very little fauna." Hux looked all too smug with himself for this, and sipped the last of the caf in the glass before pouring a bit more brandy into the one he'd been using before, lightly nudging it towards Ren. "That was a plan changing idea in the best way. I'm impressed, Ren."

"Then my recommendation is tripled. Provided there is an adequate survey of Republic patrol schedules and routes, it would be child's play to slip ships and equipment planetside." Kylo tilted his head slightly as the brandy was nudged into his range, confusion bubbling up before he reached out to touch the edge of the glass. If he looked closely, he thought he could still see the print of Hux's lips on the rim. He took a long moment, before his other hand released the catch on his helm and he removed the whole unit with a sigh. "It was not my intention, General, but I am pleased to see your main construction concerns resolved." He brought the glass to his lips, hesitating for a moment before taking a draught. It burned his throat like acid-fire and his skin felt hot where his lips touched the skinprint left behind.

Hux blinked and found himself quite stunned. He'd seen glimpses of Ren's bare face here and there, but only at a distance and only in short flashes. Now, seeing it up close like this, he was startled first by how young the man looked, then by the depth to his stare. He could already tell that a puppy-eyed look from this man could very well fell an army, but as they were now, serious and focused, there was an unfathomable depth there that Hux felt he needed to stay away from, lest he slip and fall into the void. The third thing that caught his attention was the plushness of his lips and how they molded to the glass, and he noticed with a tiny flicker of warmth that Ren had used the exact same spot where Hux had been drinking from. Judging by the hesitation and subsequent twitch in Ren's face, Hux could draw a few conclusions, ones that actually had the corner of his mouth quirking up. "You don't drink often, do you? Well savor that then. This decanter cost more than some of our officer's monthly salaries."

Kylo frowned slightly, though it was mostly directed towards the drink than Hux's words. "No. I usually avoid consuming anything that affects the faculties." His face was more open than his mask, confusion flickering over his eyes as he kept the glass close to his face. "Is alcohol really that expensive? Seems a lot of trouble..." He took another sip, neatly draining the sample and setting the glass back down on the desk; for all the burning, the flavor ultimately settled on his tongue rich and heavy, much like liquid amber or ozone. "I have no reference for the quality, but it isn't foul despite the burning. I would dare to say it tastes good after it bites."

In a surprising turn of events, Hux laughed. It was a short, singular 'ha!', but there it was nonetheless. "That's where it gets you. Then you get used to the burn and only taste the flavor. Next thing you know you're waking up in an alley or in a strange bed with a strange person next to you. It's why I tend to avoid drinking publicly."

Kylo snorted openly, the vocoder unable to disguise his voice now that he was in the open. "Oh? It's hard to imagine the great General Hux waking up anywhere but his own berth. A confession of youthful indiscretions, General?" His lip quirked into a smile, somewhat uncomfortable-looking, as if the muscles weren't quite sure how to manage it while exposed to the air. "I think I will keep to my decision to abstain, if that is a common concern."

"It's only common if you're stupid about it." He pondered for a moment about being that open about his past dalliances - and mistakes - but decided to keep at least some of his dignity. "I'm afraid you'll just have to wonder about any of my youthful activities, Ren. I'll not confirm or deny any of them." Now that he was settled by the three glasses of brandy and one of caf, he felt his shoulders relaxing a bit as he flicked away the information on Ilum and the map, and instead pulled up the Starkiller blueprints, putting a semi-transparent layer over them and redrawing them from scratch with his stylus.

"I see. I suppose then, it was not as common for you as it was for others." He lifted his helm back over his head, the pneumatic quickly sealing him back inside obscurity, before anything else could show on his face. There was a vent of air and his shoulders relaxed briefly before he nodded. The caf had been delivered, Hux's frustrations handled, best to leave before he made some sort of spectacular error. "I will leave you then, General. Rest assured that the Supreme Leader will hear of your breakthrough before he next decides to summon both of us." His tone suggested a small vein of pride, as if the idea of Hux showing up Snoke's expectations so rapidly was of personal delight.

Hux was a bit surprised that Ren was leaving of his own accord before being told to get out. "Hm. Very well." There was a pause as he thought about whether or not to say the next thing on his mind, but ultimately he bit his tongue. He'd been too personable as it was; showing Ren his rudimentary childhood blueprints, but also letting himself be seen almost relaxing. Not to mention sharing his brandy, which was unheard of. He let Ren go this time, getting back to work and neatly packing away any errant thoughts about the man.

Kylo was quick to leave the office, the Force thrumming behind him to ensure it locked in his wake. Exactly how he had found it, plus one pilfered caf machine. His steps took him just far enough to no longer be sensed or heard, and within an instant he scrabbled his helm from his head, breath coming quickly as his trembling hand brushed over his lips. He had helped Hux, directly, intelligently. He liked the caf machine. He had shared a glass with him. He felt like screaming. He felt like puking. It was a start! Heart pounding, hands still shaking from the force of repressing it, he struggled to get his helm back into place before he left.

#sproutwrites #kylux #kylux rp #rp fic

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floatingstage · 2 years

Text

another assignment i wrapped up this past weekend was the first for our model-building class. it’s my first class of the week (10AM on Monday) and the class is meant to teach us how to translate the props we draft into scale models. a perfectly valid question to ask at this point is, wait, what do scene designers do...?

i’m still learning that myself, but (and i’m gonna put this in all caps to emphasize just how deep into this theatre tech cult life i’ve descended) SCENE DESIGNERS CONCEPTUALIZE THE BUILT ENVIRONMENT OF A STORY. THE TOOLS WE USE TO COMMUNICATE OUR APPROACH INCLUDE BUT ARE NOT LIMITED TO: RESEARCH BOARDS, DRAFTS AND BLUEPRINTS, PAINT ELEVATIONS TO EXPRESS COLOR ASSIGNMENTS, AND SCALE (MINIATURE) MODELS OF ENTIRE SETS AND PROPS.

in other words, we make really little things to guide the people that make the big things, and we are present very early on in the process of making a story come to life.

we have much creative power :)

anyway, model-building with E (or shall we call him...Madame T, in honor of his favorite supermodel, Twiggy. i’ll do a full character reveal later). model-building with Madame T has so far consisted of a month-long introduction to the neurotic and intricate hazing that is using an Xacto blade. we were asked to review a draft (blueprint, basically) of a theatre portal for Fiddler on the Roof.

(a portal is something that frames the opening of a stage. check out this one from Wicked. the portal is the dragon and that metal frame surrounding it.)

this is a process video of the portal we cut for class:

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youtube

okay so notice all the tiny ass windows we needed to cut. that’s what i mean by hazing. nowadays you can do this kind of work with laser cutters but as first year scene design students, we aren’t allowed to use the laser cutters until later. my school is very into teaching skills the “traditional” way as we fortify our foundations as designers, and i honestly don’t mind it at all since that’s how i prefer to learn, too. but this project...

it’s not even that we had to cut all the tiny scallops on the side or all the windows. it’s that we had to cut everything multiple times because we were ultimately building this three-dimensional theatre portal. keep in mind that portals are usually “flatter” and “thinner” in design since they are meant to be very far downstage (close to the audience) and act as a “frame” for the rest of the stage and set. but just because they are meant to be flatter and thinner, doesn’t mean that they are 2D.

and also, the point of building a model is to express in a comprehensively detailed way what the final product should look like. so we weren’t cutting these lil windows just to see how COOoooL it would be to have a mostly flat thing with slightly elevated sections. we were supposed to be cutting a mini-version of the real thing, which meant that we had to cut as many layers as needed to express the real thing.

so the cutting in the video...imagine that x 5. not every house, window, or roof shingle needed five layers. but many things needed ~3. i’d say this project took at least 25 hours worth of cutting. this is what mine looked after i had crippled myself hunching over my desk for days with an Xacto:

my green paint was inspired by this Nat Geo photojournalist’s accounts of an Arctic village. i’ve never seen Fiddler and opted to just go wild and tap into my own tiny reservoir of cool things i’ve seen over the years. all i know of Fiddler is that there’s Russian architecture so my mind went, what do I know that’s Russian? AH, yes. Evgenia. Look at how stunning:

T_T i think the color palette is a bit moody for something like Fiddler, but again, wasn’t really paying too much attention to the actual content lol. not for this one.

this is how my portal turned out:

it’s not my favorite thing i’ve done. painting is not my strong suit and in hindsight i would have neutralized the buildings a lot more (thinking more gray tones) so that the sky could pop. i think it could’ve only really been one or the other, but i realized that too late. i also wanted to take some white Pebeo and mix it with glitter to top off a lot of my buildings for that snowy effect. but i didn’t have white Pebeo and ran out of time to get it. i’m considering still doing it though, even with the project being technically over, just cuz i want to hang it up as something i’m proud of. i also finished it with this glossy spray like the glaze you paint onto ceramic pieces but i don’t know if it was the right effect. i also feel like i overdosed on the color green which is a shame cuz it was my favorite color and now i feel like i can’t even look at it >.<

learned a lot though. wish i could do it again minus all the cutting.

here are some other cool takes by my classmates!!

Barbie Fiddler

Addam’s Family Fiddler

Nighttime Fiddler (look at the shadows on the wood T_T)

i feel like i’m learning everything by looking at other people’s work

#assignment #model-building #Youtube

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giorno-plays-piano · 3 years

Text

Rusted Remnants

Pairing: Karl Heisenberg x mutant!Reader

Warnings: past noncon, smut, dirty talk, Stockholm syndrome, violence, mention of human experiments, swearing.

Words: 1924.

Summary: You felt better knowing he wouldn't have to leave for quite some time now, staring at the man as he leaned back against the pillow, watching the smoke slowly disappear in the air - Heisenberg wasn't your darling, but he's the only one who kept you sane in that fucking hole where human life mattered so little. Among other Lords he's the only one who had the resolve to fight that heartless bitch hiding behind the façade of a holy mother.

____________________

When a bearded man in sunglasses opened the door with a grinding, abrasive sound, you felt both fear and relief - Heisenberg was a mean son of a bitch who couldn’t stand people crossing him on anything, and you learned that the hard way. However, thanks to that insanely strong bastard who could smash in a Lycan’s skull with one swing of his hammer, you were still safe in his hideout, not having to worry about mutilated monsters this place was swarming with.

Besides, even though Heisenberg was as rotten and disgusting as any other Lord, he still had more human in him than Dimitrescu, Beneviento and Moreau altogether.

“Did you miss me, little monster?” He smirked, watching you laying in bed with some cheap romance novel you traded for bullets with the Duke: you had little hobbies since you barely left Heisenberg’s factory.

You rolled your eyes, knowing he hadn’t been home for a couple of days and now needed to get under your skin, feeding off your emotions like Alcina fed off her victims’ blood. It was something like a routine to him: he needed to know you had something human in you, too.

“Who else do you expect me to miss?” you snorted, leaving a worn book with a dirty yellow cover on the bed. “You know I don’t like when you leave for so long.”

“It’s not like I like it either.”

Leaving his monstrous hammer on the table full of blueprints, drawings, nails and all other things you were forbidden to touch, he took his glasses off, and you saw his weary eyes, the blood vessels widened in their white. It didn't happen often, but from time to time Heisenberg would abandon his façade of a smug, careless bastard, and then you could catch a glimpse of a deadly tired man who had long lost any hope to ever free himself from Miranda’s death grip. Something had happened in those couple of days when he had been wandering the woods and catacombs filled with Lycans, Samcăs, and Vârcolacs, and it certainly wasn’t good news if it stripped Heisenberg of his endless complacency.

Quietly slipping away from the bed, you put your shoes on while the man in front of you left his coat hanging on a chair and stilled, his dirty hands on the desk as he stared at it blankly. While he stood there, motionless, you turned on the large faucet in an improvised shower cabin - everything there had been old and rusty, and you needed time to adjust the temperature of water from icy cold to bearable cool or even hot if you were lucky enough. Thankfully, Karl never protested against showering, washing away dry blood, machine oil, muck and filth.

Saying nothing, you carefully lifted his hat, unclasped the belt on his chest and started unbuttoning his dirty shirt - nobody would believe it had been white once. Finally, Heisenberg came back to his senses, smirking and letting you strip him of his clothes, leaving his pants and huge heavy boots on the floor. As he stepped into the shower, he dragged you with him behind the old plastic curtains full of holes, and your nightgown got drenched within a couple of seconds, water pouring over your head. You didn’t protest anymore, knowing the man wouldn’t let you go until he blew off some steam, pushing you into a wet stone wall and wrecking you ass till you started sobbing - he loved when you squeezed his fat cock with your pussy, but Heisenberg couldn’t risk getting you pregnant, leaving his child to be endlessly tortured by that holy bitch until she turned his baby into some fucking monster doll. Sometimes he could buy some condoms from the Duke, but it was still a rare occasion, so most of the time Heisenberg spent using your other holes, filling you to the brim with his cum until he felt satisfied.

"Wearing that white nightgown like some noble slut from Alcina's castle." he growled into your ear from behind, grinding against your ass, his callous fingers gripping your hips as he forced you spread your legs for him. "Did you do it on purpose, baby? Did you want to bounce on my cock so bad?"

Turning your head to him, you didn't get a chance to speak up when the man crashed his mouth into yours, his arm lifting up the drenched fabric of your nightgown and baring your flesh. Landing a loud smack to your ass, he grinned through the kiss: he loved it when you behaved well around him, taking whatever he was giving you like a good girl you were.

You didn’t mind. At first the thought of him touching you had been giving you panic attacks and nausea, but as years flew by, nothing changing in this Hell of a place where sanity was a privilege, you clung to Heisenberg in a desperate attempt to feel human again - even if it was something as primitive as grinding your bodies against each other.

As he rubbed his cock in between your shaking thighs pressed together, you moaned, the water cascading down your bodies while Heisenberg fondled your breasts, biting and nipping his way down your neck.

"You're going nowhere until I fuck the shit out of you."

_________

Breathing in the smell of his Cuban cigars, you watched Heisenberg smoke as he laid close to you, his naked body barely covered by a blanket: his skin was littered with nasty scars, and it seemed like every centimeter of it had once been burned, cut or bitten. Some of them were so old you could barely see them, others relatively knew where the scar tissue was still angry red and thick: most of the time he got them while working on his personal army down there, but with his regenerative abilities they were like a kitten bite to him. Of course, even of they weren't, Heisenberg would still pretend like it was nothing, wearing his shit-eating grin.

"The holy whore is up to something," he says after long minutes of silence, ash falling to the floor from his cigar, "and I don't like that I know fucking nothing of her plans."

You felt better knowing he wouldn't have to leave for quite some time now, staring at the man as he leaned back against the pillow, watching the smoke slowly disappear in the air - Heisenberg wasn't your darling, but he's the only one who kept you sane in that fucking hole where human life mattered so little. Among other Lords he's the only one who had the resolve to fight that heartless bitch hiding behind the façade of a holy mother. You couldn't call him sane, but he had enough sanity to remember what Miranda did to all of you and how fucking twisted was her desire to have a family. You weren't her children, regardless how many times Moreau was going to call her his mother. Whatever she did to you or those miserable villagers, her cannon fodder, she did only to revive her real daughter, and the thought had been making you sick since the times Heisenberg told you about Miranda's past.

"You think it's something big?"

"Yeah. She keeps disappearing into thin air, and I can't find a trace of her anywhere at all."

You grew silent, staring at the blanket with empty eyes: it certainly wasn't a good sign. Where was she going if even Heisenberg couldn't locate her? Was she crossing the forest to get to the outer world? The last time it happened she brought to the world one more horrifying monster with a face of a little girl. The only thing you knew about her was that she was destroyed a couple of years ago, just a failed experiment like all those Miranda had been involved in.

"I think she partners up with someone, some organization that can give her what she wants like, you knew, she did before." You muttered, and Heisenberg stared at you, narrowing his frightening light eyes.

"With whom could the old bitch partner?"

"I don't know, but I know she brought someone with her, willingly or not."

Now you had his full attention as he turned to you, his eyes burning a hole in your face. "Who did she bring here? How the fuck do you know?"

Rolling over to your stomach and hugging a pillow - a real pillow you got from the Duke a month ago, not that pile of garbage the man had been sleeping on for ages - you let out a loud sigh. You weren’t eager to go exploring the factory even though you knew where his soldiers were, but you couldn't just stay in his room for the rest of your days, and sometimes you would get out for a couple of hours, wandering empty corridors with rusted doors.

At first it was subtle. You knew this place well, but you couldn't sense monsters or people getting in the way Miranda did even after Cadou implantation. You just wandered the same places over and over, collecting semi-precious stones, bullets and other things you could trade for something with a merchant. As the time flew by, the feeling of uneasiness was washing over you as you stepped into certain rooms, got into certain places. There was nothing peculiar there, nothing that would catch your attention, but something was still eating you up as if you knew something wasn't right.

At one point you realized that what disturbed you were things moving from their original places - changes were small, barely noticeable for someone who didn't spend hundreds of hours walking around here, but you could know put your finger on what was wrong. Who was it? You knew it weren't the Lords who had no business here. Besides, the Master of Metal could always feel their presence. Obviously, it weren't humans from the village for whom the factory was sacred, and monsters possessed too little intelligence to put things on their places in the very same order. You thought it could be Mother Miranda, but she wouldn't be sneaky if she really wanted to show Heisenberg his place.

Now it all made sense. You knew the outer world would learn about this place sooner or later, especially after that monster girl incident, and it only proved the idea Miranda brought someone with her.

"I think it's someone smart, Karl. Someone who will either destroy Miranda or try to take control of her - and us, maybe." You said after telling him about your little adventures, and the man smirked, stroking your back. Of course, after her little Eveline had been released into the world, he had thoughts about other organizations having their fair share of Megamycete,

“Someone we can use against her, then.” He whispered, his eyes dark and perceptive as he leant closer, dropping a kiss to your shoulder, his complacency getting back as he sent you a smug grin, slapping your ass loudly. “Good job, little monster. Good job.”

Rolling you over on your back, he got on top of you, pushing your legs apart and licking his lips at the sight of your naked pussy right in front of him, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs.

“I’ve forgot to tell you baby," he grinned at you when you squirmed from his touch, his thumb already tracing tiny little circles against your clit. “I’ve got a rubber, so you better milk me dry with that sweet little cunt of yours.”

#karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg #resident evil village #resident evil heisenberg #resident evil

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bonelessghoul · 3 years

Text

Until My Last Breath

requested by: @just-deka

summary: A heartrender in the rankings of the Crows and with an unspoken relationship with Kaz Brekker finds herself in trouble during a heist when there is a run in with the Dime Lions. When Kaz fights his way in to get her out of the mess it became, the two end up trapped and fighting for their lives. But in their last moments, the truth comes out.

note: LMAO THIS WAS THE BEST WAY I COULD SUM UP THE REQUEST, but I was genuinely panicking at the end of this hoping this turned out the way you wanted it to!! Hope you enjoy :)

If you knew your life was going to end, what would you do? That would be a fun question to answer, but not if you only had minutes to live. Maybe hours. Hours was too optimistic though, and they realized that if they weren’t found soon, then the light in their eyes would be put out forever.

It was pure misery and bliss all at once as they stared at each other, the crushing weight of the rubble they were trapped under causing a flicker of fear deep in their stomachs. The things they wanted to say to each other could wrap around the world twice, but they settled with an endearing yet pained look only they knew with nothing but the space between their fingerprints reaching out to one another. It hurt to be so close and unable to touch.

If you had minutes to live, who would be the last face you’d want to see?

The chandeliers spaced throughout the high ceiling of the Crow Club gave a vintage touch with its dim light, making the deep red curtains around the room seem darker and masking the daylight from the outdoors. But tucked away in the second story was Kaz Brekker’s office. It was his solace away from the clamor of the club that was only muffled from where he sat hunched over his desk.

The midday crowd was already filling the club to the brim from the booths to the game tables and every space in between.

But one figure slipped through it with ease, weaving in and out in a fresh white blouse, cinched in the middle and sleeves like balloons like an angel. It was like clockwork when you would find your way up the stairs to the office, bypassing the allure of the liquor and games Jesper engorged himself with. You were busy back in your room at the Slat, tinkering with new scraps of the latest mechanics you dug for, but like you said; your arrival was like clockwork.

Kaz, glancing at his pocket watch, stared as the thin needle of a hand rolled around the center point and as if on cue, he found YN breezing through the door with a breath of relief from squeezing through the crowd. His office smelled like remnants of firewood, the freshly brewed coffee he had filling the air. While the daylight was hidden in the club downstairs, a window was opened allowing a cool breeze and the cloudy skies to find their way into this massive space which also held a small bedroom.

As a Heartrender, you would never admit to the way Kaz’s heart would pick up whenever you were near.

“Morning.” you greeted, a handful of mail sent for him to the Slat in your hands as you crossed the space between the door and his desk.

Offering him the small stack and he took it, the shadows under his eyes seeming darker today. You were always up before the sun when your mind could not stop thinking of a new idea, and more often than not, you’d hear Kaz sneaking out in the early morning without a word.

“It’s afternoon.” he said, slyly glancing up at her as his gloved hand took the papers.

With your hands free, you sat yourself upon the very corner of his desk and looking down at the two cups of coffee still topped off with steam, one cup significantly lighter than the other. Smiling contently to yourself, you wrapped your hands around the mug and picked it up to your lips.

“Hope you got it right.”

Kaz glanced up once more as he sorted through the letters.

His eyes flickered over you for a moment, pausing from what he initially wanted to say and you could hear his heart beat in your ears as it skipped.

“Don’t worry, I made it sickening sweet.” Kaz mused, heaving a sigh as he leaned back in his chair.

“Good, I’ll slip slowly and waste more time here then.” you chuckled lightly.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy sitting on his desk, sharing a cup of coffee and hearing him rant as he read the bills, the offers from others, imported goods, the bank statements, and everything else that came with the stress of running a club, not to mention an entire gang. There as a guilty pleasure as a Heartrender that involved enjoying just how flustered became down to a cellular level , but her relationship with Kaz was different; being a Heartrender taught her how much she could push and how to know when to stop pushing given his complicated boundaries.

Admittedly, as indifferent as she made herself seem when it came to Kaz, had he been the Heartrender you would have been in trouble if he could hear your heart. Every time you saw his face at the end of a job, whenever he’d look at you as you sat like you did now, and even every little bit of your unique intimacy sent your heart racing.

It seemed there were many ways to love someone that didn’t involve touching, you thought to yourself, watching Kaz’s brows furrow in the slightest with every word he read with a bittersweet smile. But it hurt when she couldn’t hold his hand or feel his comforting arms at the end of the day.

“So, what’s on the agenda today?” you asked, clearing your throat. “Things have been awfully quiet lately.”

Kaz smirked, snickering lightly to himself as he looked up at her.

“We don’t say the words quiet around here because next thing you know, it won’t be so quiet and our hands will be full with trouble.”

You raised your brows. “Well, is something coming our way?”

The look on his face confirmed it all. A simple job was offered to the Crows and a select few Dregs of his choosing (but Kaz would tell you to round up those best for it anyway), to steal a vintage piece of jewelry just brought to Ketterdam’s historic society display room. It was a job within a job, for the person requesting this jewelry and its unique elemental composition worth hundreds of thousands, it was the key to a bigger job after this which they hoped to secure.

“They have a pretty tight security system.” You sighed, holding up the blueprints he pulled out in front of you.

“Perhaps, you can figure it out in a more spacious area than the corner of my desk.” Kaz frowned, looking away as his chin rested in his palm. Then, only his eyes moved towards her. “I’m leaving the tight security system to you because you’re the only one who is creative enough to get by them. Inej scouted every entrance and found the source of the security system’s mechanics.”

It seemed easy, nothing you hadn’t come up with before, and an idea was already forming in your head to your excitement.

“Tinker around, get the ancient necklace, and a boat load of kruge.” You said simply, your voice only wavering in the slightest as your eyes narrowed at just how intricate the alarm system was.

Kaz stood up from his seat, taking the maps from her to wrap up and slide away in its casing.

“You should be on your way. Best to get a quick start so we can be in and out tonight.” Kaz said, handing her the cylinder casing for the blueprints.

“Oh, I’d sit here all day of you let me.” you grinned, earning an eye roll from him.

“Go.” Kaz pressed, his face more asserting now, trying to hide his own smirk.

But even as you strolled out the door, you could hear his heart rate jumping. Kaz’s eyes didn’t leave your figure on the way out, still staring out into space after the door shut. He leaned over his desk with his palms pressed into the wooden edge and his head dropped with a sigh.

Kaz Brekker was in trouble and his little Heartrender already knew.

There was a slightly calmer hour to be found at the Crow Club between the midday crowd leaving and night crowd slowly taking its place. In that time, you found yourself sitting at a booth and sinking into the curved red velvet seating.

You were sketching out a tool that will silence the alarm mechanisms that you had been reading up on for the past two hours. Time was running slow and your back began to ache from the position you barely moved from as you dug the lead into the parchment.

“Hey, YN! How’s it—”

“Jesper!”

Your hands frantically waved him off as his palm came down on your sprawled out pile of sketches and he jumped back, staring at you with wide eyes.

“Sorry, sorry.” You said, piling up the previous sketched of the tool you were designing, the exhaustion clear in your skiddish movements. “I have just been trying to wrap my head around this job tonight.”

Jesper smoothly slid into the booth, sitting next to you with eyes scanning over the maps. From behind, Inej approached them and slid into the booth from the other side and now, both Crows were perched upon her shoulders and looking at her work.

“The historical society in the Geldestraat is no playground.” Inej sighed.

“Oh, it’s a playground for sure, just one with little landmines at every step and Stadwatch at every corner. Then, it’s a race to the last swing on the swing set and that is our prize at the end of tonight.” Jesper ranted, his hands flailing as he spoke.

By the time he was done speaking, you and Inej stared at him, speechless.

“You must have been the child that was always bullied at playgrounds, weren’t you?” you muttered, turning your head back to the blueprints. “It’s one of the most complex, yet easiest security systems we’ve had to break into. If the necklace is on display in the spot you say it is, Inej, then this window here is our best bet.”

“Best bet for what?” Inej asked, looking at her quizzically.

Grinning, you held up the drawing of a box no bigger than your hand, the inner workings of your mind scribbled across the page.

“The window has about 5 seconds from the moment it’s opened all the way before it starts setting off an alarm which has a domino affect on the other alarms. It’s a system of bells and the window we’re going through is the start of the system. If I can forge this box to the right dimensions of the window and the string that is triggered from the window opening, then we will have a few minutes before it breaks, and the bells signal any Stadwatch in the area.”

Jesper scoffed. “Then don’t build a little tool that is going to break.”

Your hands ran over your face and instantly, you swatted at his shoulder.

“My work is impeccable, but that string is thin and ready to snap, it’s why they used it so that when the window opened, it would cut it and set off the bells.”

“Oh!” he said slowly, coming to the realization as his lips formed an o.

Even as you spoke of your plan as easily as floating down a stream, it was too good to be true. There were a dozen other factors you haven’t considered yet that made this all the more tricky. In theory, it sounded simple but getting through the window and setting up the tool in time was critical, not to mention getting to the lower level of the museum and back in time before the bells go off.

Leaning on your elbows, your shoulders sunk just a little as your mind continued to pour over the plan.

“I have to be efficient. I say we get a few minutes, give or take another fifteen minutes tops, to make it to the necklace and back without a single peep.”

Jesper glanced at Inej who was standing beside you now and looking it all over.

“Can you do that Inej?”

Immediately, the girl shook her head.

“I may be the most graceful here, but I’m surprisingly not the fastest.”

You didn’t pay any mind to the attention being shoved on you. While you wouldn’t admit it, you’ve already been thinking of it all afternoon and it left your stomach in knots.

“I’ve been walking through this all afternoon.” you sighed, a hint of defeat in your face. “Partially, I feel like taking our chances by taking these jewels in broad daylight.” you half joked.

Suddenly, your hearing focused in on a heart that almost had a third pound through his chest from the cane who always wore. That and his heartbeat both resounded through Kaz’s body with such strength, but, even when you expected him to be near, you didn’t expect him behind the booth sending the three of you with the Saints.

“We do not have the luxury of stealing things in broad daylight, YN.” Kaz said, startling everyone out of their own skin, looming over their shoulders until they he was in front of the table. “We got the jump on this before anyone else, there is no other time to do this but tonight so you all have to be ready.”

You looked up at him, slightly taken back at how high strung he was over this job, his own stressed soul infecting theirs. His eyes scanned over the three of them and then, fell on yours, but you were already looking at the hard lines in his face accentuated by his frown.

Nodding, you tore your eyes away from him and got back to work.

This job was going to break a sweat out in all of them before it even started.

“This one won’t explode, yes?” Kaz asked you.

Frowning at him, you waved the contraption you built in an hour Iin the air.

“Look, I know the last one did but this was a simple put together of a few different pieces. See, if you just-'

Kaz put his hand up with an exasperated look, signaling you to stop the demonstration you tried to put on by showing him the inside of your invention.

The two or you stood by one of the street level windows to the small brick building, it’s window panes and shutters painted black, and on this little side street there was no light that found its way here except the faint blue moon above their heads. Kaz had just unlocked the windows, and he stood there just inches away before he would open the window and you’d crawl in, having to be quick.

As you looked at him, you almost couldn’t distinguish who’s heart was racing faster.

Every time you tried to think of your path to the second story where the famous necklace was on display, your thoughts kept getting scrambled.

“Be fast, but not sloppy and get back here in one piece with that jewel in your hand.” Kaz said, his voice not missing a confident beat.

You nodded, smiling reassuringly and your hands nervously straightened the flaps of his wool jacket and you took a shaky breath.

“Got it. Open it up.”

With his cane, Kaz stepped towards the window and gave you one last look as you prepared to jump from the crate and through the opening. Even the first story was a bit of a height difference from the street, but you were quick and had the jumping skill set needed.

Kaz nodded at her and without a moment to waste, Kaz opened the window and you sprinted in, your foot pressing into the crate, pushing off of it and your hands clutching the windowsill to guide you in with ease. There was only a few seconds left and you leaped up to the top of the window, watching as the string that held together their alarm system was growing taught and with your heart pounding, your arm shot out to grab it before it snapped and finally, you could let out a breath or relief.

“Did it work?” Kaz asked, peaking his head through the window

Your tongue was peaking through your lips as you focused intently on wrapping the string in your contraption without moving it too much, settling it against the window secured in place like it were a second addition to big metal box against the wall that was the start it.

“YN!” he hissed.

You shushed him, beads of sweat forming at your temples, slowly leaning back as you released your invention that would keep the string in place, everything seemingly more quiet than normal.

That was good though, the silence being a sign that it was working.

Leaping down, you faced Kaz on the other side of the window and smiled at him, giving a wave of the hand in the form of a salute.

“See ya in a minute.”

Kaz grinned at you, but you turned and ran before you could hear him say a word.

The historical society was an old mansion, when they were a little smaller back in the day, converted into a museum. The hardwood floors and floral carpets were the original, the walls having been painted over a baby blue and hung with artwork that dated before Ketterdam was even recognized on the map. Everyone believed they were copies though.

You came out to the front entrance, a massive open space with a chandelier made of diamonds that sparkled and cast sharp little reflections around the room from the moon that shone in through the window above the tall double doors.

Holding your breath, you slowly looked around, not a single sound or movement to be made.

It was clear and you were set to take off up the stairs, careful not to place your hand along the railing. At the top of the stairs, it split into two hallways but you need not worry about which one to go down because the jewels were sitting in a small case, overlooking the home. They were meant to be in a room down the hall, having yet to be put on display, but it seems your job just got easier.

With a devious, proud grin across your lips, you looked at the ember colored jewels sat into the heavy golden necklace, and even you had to take a moment to admire it’s beauty as if there was a fire burning in each and every individual stone. But, you glanced at the pocket watch you had stolen from Kaz years ago and knew you only had a minute of assurance that the alarm wouldn’t go off before you had to run back

With gloved hands, you lifted the glass boxand plucked the jewel out from it.

In one swift move you placed the glass back and turned around, ready to bolt down the stairs, but two gunshots shattered your senses and while you couldn’t understand why at first, you were sent hurdling down the stairs with no control of your body.

Kaz was growing impatient standing in the alleyway, anxiously checking his watch, counting down the minutes. It shouldn’t have taken this long, and he knew that you knew that as well. Maybe they hid the necklace after the museum closed or maybe they haven’t even had the chance to put it out yet, but Kaz was not looking forward to having to jump to their plan B.

“Dammit, YN" he hissed, glancing through the window into the dark hallway.

But the sound of guns being fired sent him in a frenzy and without waiting a second, Kaz climbed through the window fearing the worst.

By the time you landed, rolling to a stop, the wind had been knocked out of you, pain started surging through your backside from your left hip to right shoulder blade, and left you dizzy and gasping for air. Still clutched in your hands was the necklace, and you tried to focus on how many heartbeats were in the room, but you couldn’t concentrate with the pain you were in.

“Lock her up, she’s a Heartrender.” said a man with a thick Kerch accent that sent her stomach in knots.

“No.” you painfully gasped, trying to bring your hands together.

But one boot came stomping down on the wrist that held the necklace and your screamed out in pain as your shattered bones grinded against. Suddenly, your numb fingers could no longer find the golden chain as it was taken from your hands in Pekka Rollins came into view.

“I’ll be taking that, darling. Thanks for doing the work for us!”

As Pekka stood over you, his shadowed face looking down at you with a horrid grin that made your blood boil. Your hand was shaking as you tried to bring them together, but he waved his finger in front of your face.

“Don’t even try it or a bullet will be put in your head the moment you even move a muscle.” he threatened.

At the sound of a cane smacking into a man’s skull, your head sharply turned as you lay on the ground, watching Kaz storm into the room and begin fighting the Dime Lions that charged at him.

“Kaz, no!” you cried out, your heart nearly lurching from your chest.

It was only moments before two of them seized Kaz, bringing him down on his knees. Tears pricked your eyes as you watched them relentlessly dig their fists into every part of his body, his head refusing to fall in defeat.

“What a surprise, Mr.Brekker.” Rollins taunted, strolling over to him. “I worried you might have been here before we were when your little Wraith hijacked our meeting with the buyer, but I figured, why not sit back and let you do the work for us?”

Kaz glared up at Pekka, his eyes flickering to you as you lay there, a gun pointed to your head at the hands of another Dime Lion and you watched his face drain of all its color.

“Not her.” Kaz said unconsciously, the words passing through his lips like he were thinking out loud.

That was their first mistake.

“I didn’t know the Dregs at a Heartrender in their rankings.” Pekka said, observing Kaz’s faulty eyes, glancing back at you with a smug grin. “That sounds a bit like cheating.” But then, he shrugged and his head rolled back to Kaz. “Bah, what do I care? She won’t make it much longer, but you? If you manage to crawl out of this mess, I might have a little more respect for ya.”

You didn’t know what mess Pekka Rollins was referring to, but your backside was already aching, blood seeping through your clothes now as you lay on the cold floor.

Kaz was writhing in their grips, bloody murder written across his face as he seemed to make his way out of one of their grasps and just as you thought he would have won, a gun shot rang through the air and made you jump.

Despite all the pain, you watched as Kaz crumpled to the ground and your body instantly shot up, wincing as Pekka kicked him in the face. But another shot resounded through the air, and you collapsed back on the ground with your hand still reaching for him, your leg now feeling useless as the bullet lodged itself in your calf. You watched as Kaz roll in his back, face contorted with pain.

The tears began to fall and you lay there, looking at him, waiting for his eyes to open and look back at you.

“Let’s leave, boys. Blow the place on the way out.”

That order sent a chill through your body and you helplessly watched them walk away.

“Kaz…” you weakly croaked out, watching him begin to prop himself up, one hand holding his stomach. “Kaz, we need to go.”

As you tried to shuffle towards him, every muscle in your body screaming with pain, you were only inches away from your fingertips reaching the lapels of his coat. Kaz looked at you, his eyes wide, but the moment he reached out for you, a blast shook the entire building and the last thing you saw was the walls crumbling down around you.

“YN!”

The voice was muffled, just barely heard over the ringing over your ears. Slowly, your eyes blinked open, and you couldn’t feel a thing as you watched the dark blue twilight sky above your head. It was almost peaceful, the sky lightening ever so lightly that you could make out the thick clouds that were almost black against the backdrop of the sky.

But then, the sharp scent of smoke that clouded your lungs and the irony taste of blood in your mouth took you away from your blissful moment and thrusted you into one of sheer panic as it crawled up your spine.

“YN!”

The ringing stopped and you could hear the cackling of flames and rubble grinding against each other now, turning your head to see Kaz.

Soot streaked his face; the panic you felt now visible in his widened eyes and the way his lips hung open like he was staring at a ghost. Your hands were merely inches from each other now and all around, the ceiling lay in shambles, the chandelier at your heads spreading its little diamonds across the space between you two. For a moment you wonder if that was what spared you two from the wood and stone that lay around you, but when you looked, you see that wood was piercing your thigh and the door lay over your ankle.

“Kaz.” you said shakily, looking back at him.

It was amazing how you couldn’t feel a thing, but that was probably good.

You two stared at each other, panting and clearly at a loss of what to do, except all you two could do was look at each other.

It was pure misery and bliss all at once as you stared at each other, the crushing weight of the rubble they were trapped under causing a flicker of fear deep in their stomachs. The things they wanted to say to each other could wrap around the world twice, but they settled with an endearing yet pained look only they knew with nothing but the space between their fingerprints reaching out to one another. It hurt to be so close and unable to touch.

If you had minutes to live, who would be the last face you’d want to see?

“Don’t look at my like that, YN.” Kaz grunted, trying to pull himself up. “Don’t look at me like you’re going to die.”

The bruises scattered across his face and the blood that soaked through his shirt were clear as day, but he seemed unphased as he tried to move closer.

You faintly smirked at him, feeling a trickle of blood from the corner of your lip.

“I think only you could look like an angel even when a building exploded around us.”

Kaz saw you smile through the pain, and every effort to be strong he tried to put up was whisked away by the look on your face as his shoulders fell. He could have collapsed back to the floor, letting the sleep take him away, had it not been for the way you smiled at him. Of course, he was in pain too, but it was insurmountable to the pain caused by the sight before him. His heart raced, wondering just how he would manage to drag the two of you out of this as his own limbs grew weary and tired from trying to sit up.

“I think you should get a demo man, Jesper always wanted one.”

Kaz, exhaled, letting out a brief chuckle.

“Why should I when half of your inventions explode anyway? We’ll have plenty more to come.”

There was a tinge of fear to his voice, hidden by the hope that you would make it til morning, and you could hear it; he didn’t want to lose you. He couldn’t let Pekka Rollins take someone else from him, even if it meant waiting until his last breath to take his life.

You rolled your eyes at him, the pain slowly starting to return as you gazed at the ceiling.

You kept your heart beating, your blood flowing, but you tried to pull yourself closer to Kaz only to sink back into the floor with defeat and suddenly, your chest started to rise and fall quicker. This couldn’t be it. You were stronger than this. You had to survive—if not for the Crows, but for him. Perhaps, you were being too hopeful after all.

“Kaz.” you croaked out, looking back at him with the tears threatening to pour out of your eyes.

“YN, we will be okay.” he said, his voice stern as if he could read your mind.

Suddenly, when he was within reach, you clasped his gloved hand and forced as much life into him as you could, watching him become caught off guard as his heart began to race.

“No.” he pleads.

Kaz tried to pull away, but you wouldn’t let him.

“You need to conserve your energy. We need to get out of here before the Stadwatch find us in the middle of this.”

“I’m saving you so you can save the both of us!” you argued, using his hand to pull yourself a little closer, both of you straining to bring yourselves together. But you paused for a moment, trying to catch your breath. “One of us needs to make it out of here tonight and I’m the only one who can make sure of it.”

Kaz finally pulls his hand away, and you watch him fight against everything that brought him down to sit up, leaning his back on the heavy chandelier and the remnants of the ceiling that supported it. He shut his eyes for a moment, and you watch the connection between you break as he becomes overly drained, still thinking desperately of a way out of this. As he sat there, you too fought against the pain coursing through every nerve of your body, the bullets lodged within you taunting your beaten soul as you tried to sit yourself up too. The cracked bones in your wrist made you gasp when you tried to put pressure on it, but you fought through it for one last push as you sat yourself up against the chandelier just a foot away with him.

“I cannot leave here alone. I can’t go back if you’re not with me.” Kaz said slowly, his head turning to you.

Now that you two were closer to each other, you could see just how hurt he was.

You opened your mouth to speak, ready to grasp his hand again, but blood spattered through your lips as you coughed it up.

Black spots danced across your vision, and you slowly start to fall over.

Kaz’s breath hitched, and his arms moved before he could even think to do so, dragging you towards him.

The moment you felt his arms around you, you came back to your senses, looking up at him from where your head lay on his chest.

“Kaz, you don’t—”

“I-I have to.” He says, shuddering slightly.

Kaz’s mind could not seem to push away the suffocating feeling your touch brought, and he found himself looking away, trying to fight off the horrifying memories of the ocean swallowing him whole.

But he squeezed you tight, all flesh and bone still warm with life, trying to push out the gruesome images of his last memories with Jordie. You were alive in his arms, and he wouldn’t live to see the day you weren’t despite their odds right now.

For so long, you dreamed of the day Kaz could hold your hand, even let his knuckles brush by yours. But you never thought this is how it would go.

“It’s because I’m dying, isn’t it?”

Yes.

Kaz looks down at you, already accepting the defeat of the night, and he is almost too horrified to speak as your eyes seemed calmer now than from the second you finally regained consciousness.

“It’s because—”

He pauses, looking away from you and you hang on to every word.

The only thing he wanted to do was hold you, hating himself for never doing it sooner.

“It’s okay, Kaz.” you smile sadly. “There was going to be a day when I’d watch you all grow old and leave me, but if I don’t make it through this, at least I won’t have to watch that happen.”

There was a million things you could say, a million things you built up for years since the day you saw him. In all that time you never imagined it all coming down to this and you were just so tired, but you wanted to hear him say the words.

“But I want to hear you say it.” You said, your voice growing quiet.

No matter how much you tried to justify letting go, you didn’t want to. Your heart beat for him as you looked up at him and all you wanted to do was hear him say those words.

As your eyelids became heavy, you tried to focus on the way your heart beat alongside his, pressing your hand against his chest so that you could fight for the two of you, but his heart was already racing. You loved the sound of it, remembering every time you would hear it jump the moment you stepped into a room.

“I’m afraid we don’t have enough time for me to hold you and tell you the words you want to hear.”

Kaz was fighting for his life and his urge to finally tell the truth about everything. The way he hated when you’d sit on his desk, play with his jacket when there was a slight hair out of place, and he hated how even now you were fighting to keep both of you alive. But there was the way he loved watching you outwit everyone of the Dregs when they played at the tables, the way he loved when you’d doze off in his office after a long day of working with your tools and so much more he hated himself for only paying attention to now.

“Are you going to make me do everything?” you ask, weakly smiling, hiding your face as your hot tears stained his chest.

You could feel him smile, and you could also feel your energy draining by the second.

“I love you, Kaz. Until my last breath.” you said, fearing this would be your last.

The words were on both of their minds, yet, Kaz couldn’t wrap his head around it and when you said it, his lips parted ever so slightly, staring ahead at the rubble as if that was the biggest shock to come of the night. Those words were foreign to him, they belonged to a shell of who he was and he couldn’t allow himself to accept it. His heart ached though, almost wanting to hear it again from your lips.

But then, when his heart suddenly slowed and he felt your hand leave his chest, Kaz looked down at you in a panic.

“YN…” he whispered urgently.

“I’m here.” you murmured; your eyes closed.

It felt so nice to shut them for a moment.

Kaz looked down at you, everything in him spinning, and he was ready to march you out of here now to get help but even then, as he tried to move, the pain in his body kept him grounded. Sighing in defeat, he smacked his head against the back of the chandelier and rubble he leaned upon, wanting to scream or yell and curse the world for making him so weak. His mind lingered back to the waters, Jordie’s molted and rotten skin at his fingertips, while he kicked back to the harbor swimming against all odds.

“I love you too, YN.” he said, the words cutting through the silence around them.

Deep down, he didn’t want to say the words out loud, knowing they might be the last he says to you. He yearned for more time to love you, to stroke the hair off your face as he did now as the corner of your lips turned upwards.

It made him forget to breathe as he frantically searched around, wondering if there was a way out.

But the exhaustion was tearing him apart and he looked down at you one last time, the smile off your face as your head rolled slightly.

It wasn’t long before his eyes closed too.

“I found them!”

The Dregs were scouring the rubble after they heard the explosion from the rendezvous point, Jesper and Inej running back after seeing that the two of you never made it.

When the pair heard one of the Dregs call out, the pair exchanged a worried look before pushing through the remnants of the mansion. They feared they would find your mangeled bodies waiting for them, but they skidded to a halt when they saw something else entirely.

Jesper’s face fell, as Inej’s hand clamped over her mouth, watching as Rotty checked their pulses, the man’s hands shaking as they checked.

“They’re still breathing!” Rotty shouted with relief. “Let’s move them out of here, they’re hurt pretty bad.”

But Inej and Jesper could not move just yet, staring with teary eyes from the overwhelming release of the weight on their shoulders. You sat curled up alongside Kaz, his arms wrapped around you, holding so tightly they could have swore he turned to stone.

There was no time to waste though, and they ran to you and Kaz to drag the two of you out to safety.

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you

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leverage-ot3 · 3 years

Text

the remarkable story of the world’s best thief, part one

parker grew up with no one. no friends, no family. and then she found archie (or he found her) and they had something, but he still held back and kept her at arm’s length

and then she takes this one job in chicago that’s stealing back airplane designs and she has to work with a team, something she never does but will do only this one time because the payout was supposed to be good

and then they’re all almost killed, which she doesn’t take personally, mind you. she cares that she didn’t get the money

so she goes along with the white knight’s plan and they enlist this horrible actress who isn’t actually that horrible, and they con dubenich out of his company and thanks to the hacker they get the score, the score that ensures retirement, that she can sit on an island surrounded by piles of money, homemade rigs and laser grids galore just for fun

except she can’t just retire. and as much as she didn’t want to admit it, working with them was fun. so she tells nate to call her when he has another job

and then that job goes sideways and she decides it’s not worth it, that she’s better off alone. so they’ll finish the job and part ways for good- how it was meant to be after all.

but then they give the veterans the truck full of money and they’re so happy and she figures, okay, maybe one or two more. maybe then hardison will tell her why she’s supposed to have a plant in her office. why does she need one if it doesn’t do anything?

and time passes easily, easier than it ever had before. she eats pizza beside hardison and eliot. jumps off a balcony without looking, trusting her ability to fall, but eliot catches her anyways. she stabs a man with a fork and hardison talks to her as she cries and at some point she decides that maybe they’re a little more than a team. he says he liked how she turned out, and it shouldn’t be so reassuring, but it is. she makes a tentative friendship with a woman named peggy, the most normal person she knows but astonishingly, somehow wants to be her friend.

and then they’re in a rehab center and she takes the pills they give her and things feel different, so she doesn’t want to leave. so she stays. and then sophie comes back, understanding her game of pictionary that no one else would ever get, so she goes with her. she sees her her team, her friends and is so happy. she jumps into eliot’s arms and holds him tight. trots over to hardison and holds him close. the drugs wear off, but the affection doesn’t. it never will.

and then they’re trying to con nate’s old boss because he’s on a downward spiral and revenge is something they all can understand. except then maggie, nate’s ex wife is there and she’s an expert on art and would be able to tell that their statue was a fake. so nate challenges her to steal the statue with whatever she can gather from the van and the party. and like some people do chess, she figures out how to get the statue with some gum, tinfoil, and ice. she kisses hardison for a distraction, but maybe she liked it? just a little. maybe.

and then they are successful and sell blackpool’s first david back to him, and things are great. she jumps down onto the transportation truck, picks the lock, and sneaks inside, ready to take the david statue back. except sterling- evil nate- is there and she has nowhere to go.

and then he figures out that sophie, her sophie, stole the first david years ago and was conning them from the beginning of the job. she slightly gets it- she is a thief, after all. but the fact that she conned her own team (’a little more than a team’) leaves a bad taste in her mouth.

sophie comes through, and they jump off a building. sophie yells a bit, but she’s come a long way from the first job when she screamed all the way down to the first floor. their office explodes and they go their separate ways, because they’re professionals, after all. they know when a job can’t be done, when it is best to flee.

but leaving a job undone is like having a scratch unitched, and the two davids are on display at blackpools’ gallery. she’s pointing a laser at the painting and a woman turns around and it’s sophie. and then eliot is on the floor above her, and so is hardison. so they make a run for it and nate is out there, waiting in a getaway car.

hardison’s safehouse is a bit ridiculous, little furniture and a toiletless bathroom. they start to bicker but nate brings them to focus. hardison has the blueprints splayed out on a table and they start making plans again- easy- just like they did before.

sophie tries to apologize to them in a tactless way, but they come around eventually. they take a moment, hardison, eliot, and parker, to christen the house with the painting of old nate and sophie directs them how to position it. things feel familiar, normal, and comfortable.

eliot, much to nate’s dismay, meets a willing maggie for lunch. she recognizes the button cam immediately, but takes a moment to make nate very uncomfortable because she’s cool like that. parker likes her for that.

she’s mad- furious in fact. but she agrees to participate in the con and performs wonderfully. parker is a little proud. and then the showing opens, and parker is at the reception desk, taking coats and bags. sterling and his entourage pass her and he talks about every country that wants her in prison, and she almost laughs. she settles on a smile instead.

the con plays perfectly, as almost all of theirs do. she puts the fake statues in all the bags she’s collected and watches it play out. and then they get to work hiding the artwork. they hide in the basement as their plan comes to a head, listening to the chaos above them. nate makes a deal with sterling and everyone leaves except nate and maggie. they come down to meet her, hardison, eliot, and sophie and get to work placing the works of art back in their places.

before long, they are all in an airport hangar, empty except for the five of them. nate tells them how the team has changed him, how they’ve done so much good in their time together. she feels tears prick at her eyes and her stomach has dropped and a part of her can’t believe that this is how it ends.

hardison asks her where she’s going and she smiles, and tells him he will just have to look. they all look at each other and somehow, although she’s still not that good at reading people, they feel the same way as her. it should bring her comfort, but it doesn’t.

one by one they turn and go their separate ways, including her. each step she takes feels harder and more definitive than the last. her heart feels low in her chest and her skin tingles in a way that she’s never experienced before.

spain, she thinks. spain is nice this time of year.

maybe then the weird feeling in her chest will go away. the tugging in her heart said it wouldn’t.

#the remarkable story of the world’s best thief #parker meta #parker #leverage season 1 #my favorite line: jumps off a balcony without looking trusting her ability to fall but eliot catches her anyways #UGH #its good because its true #sorry i spent so much time on the david jobs #i couldn't figure out how to shorten them because a lot happens #lmaoooo when my classmate was like: yeah people bullied Whole Foods and Starbucks and stuff to stop supporting prison labor #leverage #leverage meta #since there is slight ot3 #leverage ot3 #parker x hardison x eliot #mine #my meta #make a masterpost

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tracybirds · 3 years

Text

It’s not 2am I refuse to accept that lol.... what started with me projecting onto Brains because I am very anti-vacuum cleaner and loud sudden noises, morphed into listen to me Brains and Jeff are FRIENDS, they’re BEST FRIENDS, he asked him to live on the ISLAND with his family (Brains is family)

So this is Brains having a problem with loud noises and Jeff helping him out

---------------------------

Brains shut the door firmly. He spent so much time in the depths of the volcano, underneath nearly three hundred metres of solid basalt, that he’d forgotten how loud the Tracy family really was. Forgotten their penchant for sudden bangs and explosive arguments when the mood took them.

He’d known them for years, first met Jeff and Lucille back before even Gordon was born. Without noticing, somehow his invitations to dinner and birthday parties grew and grew until he found himself folded into the line up as naturally as any other member. He might have once been surprised to find a place made for him on Tracy Island, his own opinions sought after and his wants and desires for his own space taken as seriously as anyone else’s, but upon reflection the transition had been the most seamless in his life.

He couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

But right now, between shaking hands and chattering teeth, he’d rather be anywhere but here.

His study was a place rarely frequented. He much preferred the cavernous space of his workshop, where he could jump between theory and practice and the only sound was that of muttered calculations echoed back to him with his own voice. But with Jeff back (and wasn’t he thrilled to be working with his old friend again), dreaming up new ideas for the dozen, it only made sense to temporarily relocate back to the room next door.

He winced as a chair scraped overhead again. Indistinct conversation filtered down and he glanced over to check the windows were shut fast. How Jeff was working, totally oblivious, as beyond him. Every sound tore into Brains’ skin.

He rummaged through the drawers, searching for the headphones that would provide even a moment of relief.

Above him, the floor creaked ominously and he could hear Virgil and Gordon’s scattered laughter.

The villa suddenly seemed very small.

A gentle whirring grabbed his attention, and Brains looked up to see MAX in front of him, headphones in his grip.

“Thank you, mm-MAX,” he said with a tight smile and lowered them over his ears.

He could hear his echoing heartbeat, beating wildly and amplified by the full coverage of his ears, and he grimaced at the sound.

But a choice between the unexpected screeches from above and the steady sound of living was no contest.

Brains steadied his breath and stared blankly at the blueprints he was working on. He could hardly remember what they were for. Some kind of energy dampener?

He placed his glasses down on the desk and rubbed at his eyes. The thumping was only getting louder and faster and the headphones themselves were becoming a problem – the synthetic cushioning sticky and hot against his skin.

He could still hear the boys above.

His fingers fumbled with software, searching for something tolerable to drown out the sound. Music burst through to his eardrums and instinctively he ripped their source away, and the sounds of Tracy villa fell in on him at full force.

Gritted teeth, eyes squeezed tight, hands drilling his ears into his skull as though they could be removed, and all because of noise that couldn’t be helped and that he couldn’t ask to be stopped.

Not fair, he thought, not fair to them and certainly not fair to him.

***

Brains’ door was shut. That pulled Jeff up short, his hand hovering over the door knob as he frowned at it as though it had closed itself of its own accord. Brains’ door was never shut.

Jeff could still remember the gentle welcome he’d given his sons when they first met, answering all their questions about his lab and what exactly his job was. How he’d taken one look at Jeff, overwhelmed with the care of only three children while his pregnant wife rushed home to care for her dying mother and invited him and his overly-excited children home for tea. Even back in Tracy Industries, Jeff had been given unrestricted access to Brains’ office and he liked to think it wasn’t simply because Brains couldn’t say no to his boss.

He knew very well how incorrect that statement was.

Jeff reached out and knocked on the door.

There was no reply.

Faintly, Jeff could hear the faint beeps of MAX inside and that only puzzled him more. MAX never seemed to leave Brains’ side in one form or another, but neither did he sound distressed. He thought. Jeff was still learning how to tell the moods of a robot apart.

Another loud whoop echoed down the stairs and he glanced up, partially amused but mostly exasperated. With some time off, Scott and Gordon had taken it upon themselves to teach Alan poker and if there was anything that Scott and Gordon knew how to do quietly – well, it wasn’t poker.

From the sounds of things, Alan had hit a streak of beginner’s luck and Scott, still swearing above him, was on the losing end.

He laughed to himself and lightly pushed open the door, poking his head to try and spot his friend.

His smile dropped almost instantly.

“Brains? Are you alright?”

A redundant question, immediately answered without a word as Jeff took in the clenched jaw and involuntary gasps for air.

“Okay, okay,” he muttered to himself, reluctant to startle Brains further or make whatever this was worse by touching him. Because this was surely something new. Or something hidden and private that he had no intention of revealing to the rest of his raucous family.

A chair fell with a loud bang above them and Jeff jumped. Brains seemed to curl even further in on himself and as the squabbling grew louder and louder above them, Jeff realised what the problem was.

“Brains, I’ll be right back,” he promised, before striding upstairs, worry turning what had been exasperation into real anger.

“Boys,” he growled, his voice cutting through the argument. Three startled pairs of eyes met his, and Jeff tried to cool the white-hot fury into mere annoyance.

“Outside. Or your rooms, I don’t care which.”

Gordon scoffed at him.

“You can’t send us to our rooms.”

Jeff whirled on him, the fire stoked in his glare.

“On second thoughts,” said Gordon cheerfully, tugging Alan in front of him. “I was just gonna go for a swim. What do you say, Alan?”

Jeff watched the two race away and turned to face Scott, his arms crossed and scowling openly.

“What was that for?” he demanded. “We were just playing cards, what’s the big idea?”

“You’re just being too damn loud,” Jeff said with a grunt, turning towards the stairwell.

Then again, he reflected, it wasn’t entirely their fault. Clearly, whatever was going on downstairs wasn’t something they’d known to be aware of.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” muttered Scott. “If you say so.”

Jeff ignored him, already halfway down the stairs with his main objective cleared.

He slipped back into the room, pleased to see Brains’ breathing was much less erratic.

“Brains?”

“Mmm, y-yes Jeff?”

He stepped forward and laid a hesitant hand on Brains’ shoulder.

“You’re still shaking,” he said quietly. “What was that?”

“Nn-nothing.”

Jeff snorted.

“At least look me in the eye when you lie to me, Brains. Come on, I know you better than that.”

Brains pursed his lips together, still avoiding Jeff’s gaze, and it suddenly struck Jeff that his friend might not want to tell him about his problems.

Eight years was a long gap in friendship.

“It’s okay,” he said at last, as the silence stretched out into uncomfortable awkwardness. “You really don’t have to say. I’ve just never seen you like that before.”

“Yes, you have.”

Jeff looked at him in surprise, unsure of the conviction in Brains’ eyes.

“Then I don’t remember,” he admitted slowly, casting his mind over fragile, faded memory.

“Help m-me over to that sss-sofa.”

Jeff followed his directions without protest, still watching him carefully until Brains was lying down on the sofa with a sigh.

He reached out and handed over the blue frames instinctively and pulled up a chair as Brains peered at him through them.

“Adrenaline crash,” he said, by way of explanation and gesturing at himself. Sss-sorry Jeff, it g-got a little out of hand.”

“What is ‘it’?”

Brains waved a dismissive hand.

“I hope you didn’t g-go up and yell at the b-boys,” he said. “It’s really not their ff-fault. I just have a hard time with too mm, m-much noise, or the wrongs kinds nowadays.”

“Why?” asked Jeff, trying not to feel too guilty over having done just that.

Brains smiled tiredly.

“T-t-turns out, it’s really rather traumatising to watch your ff-friend explode on a live-feed in f-front of you.”

Chills raced over Jeff’s skin, all seeming to find entry into his heart. His breath caught in his throat and he found it was his turn to be bent over with his friend’s guiding hand on his back.

“Sorry,” he gasped. “Worse for you than it was for me.”

“Yes, you’re right Jeff,” said Brains drily. “There are no lasting effects from the mm-moment that ripped your f-family from you and f-forced you to survive in the m-most hostile environment with no hope of return. Mm-my m-mistake.”

Jeff laughed weakly.

“You got me there,” he admitted, rubbing his chest to try ease some of the tension. “But at least we’re not alone on this one. I’ll tell the boys to check neither of us are working before they play anymore poker.”

“And next time, they could ask us to join,” said Brains with a grin. “I don’t think they know what a g-good team we m-made.”

“Good cheats, you mean.”

“Well, of course, what’s the difference?”

Jeff laughed, thumping on his shoulder.

“Get some rest, Brains. Strategise later.”

#brains #wait how DO we tag brains what's his real name again??#hiram hackenbacker #lmao sorry brains but that is a NAME #jeff tracy #thunderbirds are go #sometimes i fic #this is put brains at about 15ish years older than scott if we're wondering #i just really like the idea of brains being really good friends with jeff and lucy and their horde of kids #now i should go to sleep because it is monday and i do have work in five hours for kids who won't show up #love them miss them would it kill them to come to virtual class (probably i get it stay safe kids)

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hufflesocks · 3 years

Text

Ok so I am a huge fan of the head cannon that the cores were once human so basically I’m just going to give my head cannon for what happened prior to GLaDOS taking over the facility and the events of Portal and Portal 2. And since I have been holding these head cannons in for too long, so I’m just going to info dump:

Due to the importance of Cave Johnson’s project of putting one’s consciousness into a computer, I would assume that those working on the project would want to run tests prior to the real thing. And what’s better than testing on the real thing: other people. For the very first test, the scientists working on the project decided to have the subject be one of Aperture’s many maintenance workers. This was due to that fact that if the test was successful then they could continue to use the core for maintenance work, and a robot doesn’t need breaks nor do they get sick. The candidate they chose was an immigrant from Norway named Virgil Evensen. He had no remaining close relatives and outside of a friendly old lady that he would cat sit for no one who would miss him. They put a lot of effort into the exterior of the core’s shell even going so far as to giving it floral designs that matched the tattoos of the subject they were using. The scientists wanted to make a very good first impression, and they did. The first transfer of human consciousness into a robot was a success. Though they learned the hard way that in order to avoid any existential crisis the memory of said person had to be completely whipped. Using this information they began to perform many other similar tests, with many other employees to create the personality cores.

Two particular Scientists who were involved in the project were Craig Nelson and Richard “Rick” Owens. Craig was originally on the project dealing primarily with with the science of actually transferring over human consciousness, while Rick was later partnered with him to help with the robotics aspect. Their relationship as co-workers was strained at first, but soon evolved into one of reluctant tolerance. Craig had a tendency to be a bit stuck up and arrogant, while Rick was more well adventurous and a bit of a braggart(think of him as a flirtatious cowboy). Rick developed the the type of attitude towards Craig that’s like “it’s not ok for anybody to pick on this person, but me.”

Rick grew up on a ranch in Montana with his older brother Connor. Connor went to school for Aeronautics, and eventually found himself under the employment of an up and coming science institute: Aperture Science. Rick followed in his brother’s footsteps getting a job at the same facility but in the field robotics. Rick enjoyed living and working in close proximity to his brother as he had a falling out with his father soon before he got the job. Eventually his brother got married and had a kid, named Kevin. One day, however only a few months after Kevin’s birth, his wife left in the middle of the night without a trace. So Kevin grew up with his father and his “cool uncle Rick.” Often Kevin would stay with Rick while his father was on space missions. This prompted him to develop an extreme love for anything and everything space. But one typical two week visit with his uncle became a permanent one. Rick had no idea what to do when he found out that his brother went missing in space. He was torn between grieving and figuring out a how to take care of Kevin. He was supposed to be “Cool uncle Rick.” The guy his nephew would hangout with, while his father was busy, not the kids primary caretaker. And the hardest part was figuring out a way to tell the kid his father wasn’t coming home. In the end he tried to explain that his father was now in space living amongst the stars. He hoped the kid understood the metaphor. But instead it just turned Kevin’s interest in space into an infatuation with going to space. Regardless, Rick managed to make the new situation work. Though taking care of Kevin by himself often ment bringing Kevin to Aperture’s daycare center when he couldn’t find a baby sitter.

Around this time employees began to seemingly disappear out of thin air. Due to the fact that Rick was on the lower end of Aperture’s personality core project he never knew the real reason. He just provided the blueprints for the cores and checked them over when they were done. He never picked up on the fact that their personalities seemed a bit too human. One day about several years after his brother’s death and only a few days after the CEO of Aperture’s, someone very important stopped showing up to work. Caroline was one of the few people at that facility who actually listened to what he had to say and didn’t just brush him off. Plus he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t developed a small crush on her. First Rick asked Craig if he knew anything, to which he received a curt “no.” Figuring Craig was just being himself, Rick began asking around with the higher ups. All of whom seemed to side step the question, say that she must have quit, or claimed they were too busy with Aperture’s new, biggest project GLaDOS. Eventually Rick was forced to drop it.

Craig was more involved in the higher ups of the personality core and GLaDOS projects. Thus, meaning that he knew the scientists were getting more desperate in using cores to control GLaDOS as well as which employees were up next for the trials. Apparently asking around about the disappearance of a higher up at Aperture was a sensitive subject. So when Craig heard who the project’s next test subject was, he immediately went to warn him. If anyone asked, Craig hated his coworker Rick, but in reality the two had formed a begrudging friendship. Plus the fact that Rick had a nephew to care for, didn’t make the decision to use him as a test subject sit well with Craig. Craig tried to warn Rick as best he could, without divulging the warning’s motive. But saying that Rick should quit immediately for no reason and leave Aperture pissed Rick off for some reason.

The next day when Rick went to work, Craig wasn’t at his desk, and Craig was always at his desk. This made Rick extremely worried. No matter how mad he was after their recent exchange; the guy never missed work, not even for sick days. This time he was more forceful in his questioning, demanding to know the reason for his friend’s disappearance. But the only answers he received were shrugs and suggestions that he get back to work.

By this point he was fully aware something real bad was going on, and was really reluctant to bring Kevin in with him the next day. But he couldn’t find a babysitter and he couldn’t leave the kid alone. After dropping off Kevin at the daycare center, he went to his desk. As he looked up from putting his “adventure” hat in the lower drawer of his desk, he saw two men in lab coats standing beside him. One addressed him by name and asked him to follow them for a scheduled testing session(something that employees were often asked to do every so often). However, Rick had a bad feeling about it and was reluctant to go. The two Scientists tried to restrain him, but he managed to fight them off. Once free his next thought was to find his nephew and get out. But before he could take another step a needle was injected into his neck and everything went dark.

The Scientists knew they had been too careless, when a daycare employee approached them. It was the end of the day and the employee asked when one of the young boys’ uncle would be arriving to pick him up. They were desperate. The GLaDOS project was failing and they needed to cover up any loose ends that could possibly lead to the beyond unethical actions of the project being released to the public. So they followed the daycare employee to the center and found the boy sitting at a table playing with a rocket ship. Recognizing the lab coat attire as one that his uncle often wore Kevin asked where his uncle was. In response the scientists offered to take the boy to his uncle.

The last three cores were hastily made. They were full of bugs and sported the personalities of Fact, Adventure, and Space(if one could even call those personalities). It was no surprise that they didn’t work when GLaDOS was booted up. The scientists were running out of ideas, and began to think the project a failure. Until one of the younger scientist by the name of Dr. Doug Rattmann offendedly and sarcastically mentioned using artificial intelligence based personality cores instead. Much to his dismay the scientists took his idea. They had enough data collected from the numerous personality core tests, that they could easily develop an AI software. Perhaps using AI would be better for managing a Human based robot, rather than other human based robots. The first test was run using a core with a focus on curiosity. GLaDOS lasted a whole quarter of a second before trying to kill the scientists. The test was a success and it looked like with just a few more cores, the scientists could get the machine under control.

#portal 2 #portal 2 headcannons #I know some things are a little off from cannon #but hey that’s why these are headcannons #and are done just for fun #portal stories: mel #fact core #rick the adventure core #space core #virgil portal

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

HASO, “Living the Dream.”

I didn’t get a lot of time to write today, but I hope you all still like it :)

“No! Absolutely not!”

“This isn’t your decision to make.”

“President, this is completely insane. You have to see that.”

The two officers turned to look at the president of the UN who sat in his seat idly fiddling with a paperclip. It spun, once and then twice between the fingers of his right hand before he bothered to look up.

The UN president was a sturdy man in his late sixties with greying hair, dark eyes and a slight paunch. He wasn’t a man of unusual intelligence or anything like that. In fact his greatest ability and charismatic character in front of a crowd, but behind the scenes, the man was racked with indecision and uncertainty.

Admiral Kelly stepped forward and looked around the table at the other ranking officers falling lastly on the UN president who she stuck with a steady gaze, one she had been told when she was captain, had the ability to freeze even the bravest man’s blood in his veins.

“The GA has made their decision and I tend to agree with them.”

“It’s madness.” Another officer said leaning forward in his seat.

“That boy doesn’t have nearly enough experience. He was on your ship for less than a year, has only flown ten combat missions in his entire career, AND only a SINGLE ground Op.”

Another Admiral stood in agreement to back them up, “The boy is barely old enough to grow a beard much less command a ship. He has no experience.”

Admiral kelly kept her eyes narrowed.

She knew the kind of effect she had on people. Even though she was no more than five foot five, her parents had always said her personality added another three feet.

“With all due respect, Admirals, how many of you have more than a year of experience dealing with aliens?”

The men’s jaws worked but they said nothing.

“How many of you have even fought in an alien war?”

More silence.

“How many of you have been on an alien ship?”

No one responded.

She stood from her seat, hands resting behind her back, “If you are expecting to find someone with more experience, you are kidding yourselves. And don’t come at me with some bullshit about how other officers have more combat experience. You may be right but that was against HUMANS, human conflicts and human wars. We need someone who doesn’t have their head so stuck in the past. If we send a vet in, MAYBE they will be able to deal with an alien conflict, and maybe they’d fowl it up by thinking humans are the same as aliens.” She looked around the table, “If we look at this, really look at this, he has the most experience out of ANYONE in the UNSC. He was the first one to discover aliens, he offered himself as a subject to be tested by aliens, he helped to establish communication between our species. He fought in an alien war and lived, and afterwards he came back for more.”

She turned to look around the room, her hands held wide, “The GA love him, the Chairwoman knows him by name, and they asked for him personally. Most of this isn’t even about alien conflict. We don’t have to worry about his prowess on the battlefield if there are never any battles. He doesn’t want to fight them, which means he will do everything possible to avoid war, and, most importantly, he is still loyal to the UNSC.”

She looked around at them with a very serious expression,

“I don’t need to tell you about what It took to survive operation steel eye. I know you've all read the reports. By rights that boy should be suing the UNSC for all it’s worth, but for some reason he is loyal enough to come limping back to lay at the feet of the UNSC. If I were him I would have gotten out at the first opportunity, but he’s proven a loyalty to the UNSC that we can’t just pass up. He has experience, he has guts, and he has loyalty to spare, and, lord forgive me for saying this, but if he does fail, no one will be surprised. But if he succeeds, he will be a success story the UNSC can front for the rest of this millenia.”

Looking around the table she could see that her words were making some impact on the waiting generals. She felt bad about some of the things she was saying. She hated making it out to seem like the boy was just a pawn to be used and discarded if it didn’t turn out, but that was the sort of thing these men understood. She could raise other points, the real points, but they wouldn’t be likely to listen.

She could blab at them all day about her experience with the young man. How she knew him to be ready to work, honest to a fault, funny, charismatic in an awkward sort of way, and probably the most trustworthy young man on the face of the damn planet. If there was anyone she would trust to hold the entire world in the palm of their hand, she would let him do it. Granted she would supervise him to make sure he didn’t accidentally drop it, but she KNEW that given time and some maturing the boy would make an excellent leader.

She could feel it in her bones.

Right into her marrow.

Andshe would always be there to watch him and provide her expertise if he ever needed it.

She wasn’t worried.

Instead of saying any of this she took a deep breath, “We are going into a new age, and we need to have flexible minds. Old war dogs like us aren’t going to cut it, too setin our ways.” She turned to look around the room, “And if he fails, I will take full responsibility for his actions.”

She knew what she was doing was rash, setting her entire career on one man, and no more than a boy at that, but she had faith, and more than that, she knew who had trained him, and had to admit that he had a pretty damn good mentor.

***

Adam Vir had fallen asleep.

No one could really blame him, his flight back from Andromeda had come in late, and he hadn’t slept in over 24 hours, but still, slouched against the wall in a cheap plastic chair with his mouth open and a line of drool running down his face was hardly becoming. Despite this, no one gave him a second lance as they hurried up and down the hallway at fort harmony listening to the distant sounds of jet engines starting up on the runway crisp and cool in the early morning chill.

“Lieutenant.” Adam Vir jerked in his seat as a boot gently kicked his shoe, nearly toppling over.

“YES!”

He looked up to find Admiral Kelly standing over him, and made an undignified scrambled to his feet wiping drool from his cheek feeling red rise up from under his collar as he made a wobbly and very undignified salute.

She only smiled, “At ease, Lieutenant, and come with me.”

He let his hand dropped and he quickly followed her up the hall watching as eyes turned to look at them in mild curiosity as they passed.

Admirals didn’t often speak to lowly first lieutenants, “Where are we going, ma’am.”

She turned a corner and he nearly ran himself into the wall, dodging to the side only at the last minute and staggering a bit as he tried to keep pace with her. He was blushing madly now feeling like a clumsy idiot next to her graceful strides.

What he wouldn’t give to be just a little bit more like her, so calm and cool and poised and…

She motioned him into the next door, and he stepped inside,holding it open for her as he did.

It was her office, which he guessed by the name plate on her desk and several shadow boxes on the wall behind her desk, each one of hem holding some medal or award or other she had received for distinguished service.

The glass on those boxes was old and mostly coated in dust not having been disturbed in a long time, as in comparison to the framed picture on her desk, which was lovingly dusted clean every morning. It looked like a picture of her family, brothers, sisters, mother and father. Her father being a very tall, very broad looking islander, while her mother was a very petite asian woman.

She clearly hadn’t interhited her father’s height, and looked more like her mother.

She Turned to sit behind the desk, hands clasped before her as the stars glittered lightly on the shoulders of her uniform.

Kelly nodded for him to sit and he did as requested.

She nodded to the yellow envelope on the desk before her, “Open it.”

He paused, and did as told, opening the envelope and tipping it’s contents out onto the desk.

His eyes were caught at first by a large folded blueprint, which he opened and spread out on half the desk before him.

It didn’t take him long to figure out what it was.

He glanced up at her, “Is this the new ship?”

She nodded.

“Next generation?” he was practically drooling, “What I wouldn’t give to fly one of these.” He looked up at her, “Are you going to be flying her, she’s beautiful.” Granted all he could see were the white lines of the blueprint but he could just imagine.”

She smiled slightly.

“Why don’t you take a look at the rest of it.”

He forced his eyes away from the blueprint and down to the rest of the packet.

On the table before him two glittering silver bars winked up at him.

He reached out with a hand and picked up the captain’ bars frowning. He then turned his attention to a pile of white papers and quickly scanned his eyes over the pages. Aam Vir may have behaved like a big idiot but he had been top of his class at the academy, and unlike the big oaf he looked like, he had pretty good reading comprehension.

Didn’t take him more than a few seconds to scan the page and…. freeze .

He blinked, re-read the lines five or six times.

Re read it again.

Looked up at kelly then back at the paper then back up at kelly.

“I…. what is this?”

She tried to contain the small smile that flickered over the front of his face, “What does it look like.”

“It…. well it LOOKS like a written recommendation for a promotion… a promotion to captain and orders to loan out for the GA…. on the next constructed interstellar ship.. .but….”

He looked up knowing what he hoped but not daring to believe.

It was when her small knowing smile was split by a grin that he knew.

His ears went suddenly muffled, his heart sped up to light speed and he thought he could hear her speaking but he couldn't hear her.

“No way!” he said

“No way, no way no way. No friggin WAY.”

She stood, and he stood, and he found he didn’t know what to do with his hands he found himself walking in a small circle. He held the paper out to hre, “IS this serious, are you serious?”

“Serious as a heart attack.”

“No way.”

“Yes way.” “You’re serious.”

“I just said so.”

He looked down at the page and then back up again one last time, and he was suddenly so overwhelmed that he just couldn’t handle it anymore and he threw his arms around her. It was probably the most unprofessional show of emotion the UNSC had ever seen. No salute, no handshake none of that professional stuff.

Instead, he, a junior officer, was hugging the fleet commander, who he now realized was like almost nine inches shorter than he was, and…. Was he crying?

Yep, crying like a big ugly baby, ok maybe not so bad.

He was laughing and crying and completely overwhelmed to the point of probably losing his promotion.

Luckily for him Admiral Kelly laughed with him.

Man she was was fucking amazing.

Until he eventually pulled away grinning like an idiot and not bothering to wipe his eyes..

“Take a couple deep breaths for me, Captain.”

Captain!

He loved the sound of that.

Captain Vir

Captain Adam Vir of the UNSC.

He took a few deep breaths, calmed himself down enough so he could speak, straightened up, “Thank you ma’am, I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t. Now get out of here, and pull yourself together before the promotion ceremony.”

He grinned again, “Yes Ma’am.” In his enthusiasm turning away, he nearly tripped over his pushed out chair, but managed to right himself before hand, giving a rueful smile and running from the room.

He managed to make it outside before bursting with excitement jumping up into the air and pumping his fist, before dancing around in a circle shouting and chanting.

A couple columns of marching soldiers looked very confused as they walked past him like he was some kind of lunatic, but it didn’t matter to him.

He had made it!

He had made it

His dream had come true and he had made it.

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constant-mason24 · 4 years

Text

Innocence in Peril

Jeremiah Valeska x Reader

Requested by Anon

NO Warnings, except maybe gun use?

1900 words.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Every day, Jeremiah sat in the back of the class, and every day, (Y/n) sat in the seat directly in front of him. Despite the fact that there was no assigned seating, this was what always happened. Jeremiah certainly didn’t mind. He thought the girl in front of him was very smart and very pretty. He was far too awkward to initiate a conversation with her, but luckily he had a reputation for being the smartest kid in class, and (y/n) would often ask him about assignments. Over time, the two became an odd kind of friends, and Jeremiah’s little schoolboy crush became something much more.

“Miah! Can you help me with my chemistry worksheet?” (Y/n) grimaced, both from fear of inconveniencing Jeremiah and hatred of chemistry.

“Of course.” Jeremiah pushed his glasses up and cleared his throat. “What are you confused about?”

“Everything,” she pouted.

Jeremiah chuckled, avoiding eye contact as he tried to will his reddened cheeks to cool off. “Let’s start from the beginning again.”

Quite a few years passed, but Jeremiah never lost contact with (Y/n). She was one of the few people who would be allowed into his bunker. (Y/n) never understood why he lived within the concrete maze, but Jeremiah always told her it was how he focused best. She doubted that, seeing as to how he focused just fine back in school but brushed it off as some weird comfort. If it made Jeremiah feel better, who was she to complain? Especially with how rotten this city had become. Gotham was always rife with crime, but after the deaths of Martha and Thomas Wayne, everything seemed to go downhill quite rapidly.

Today, Jeremiah stood in front of the mirror in his bathroom, nervously adjusting his jacket and shirt collar. (Y/n) was supposed to visit again, and she would be arriving quite soon. With a heavy sigh, he leaned his sweaty palms against the sink, wishing he could get over this childish fear and tell (Y/n) how much she meant to him. He knew he really had nothing to fear. She was a kind soul, who was always careful not to hurt anyone else’s feelings. He reasoned with himself that even if she didn’t return his feelings (which couldn’t be too high a chance, right?), she would certainly let him down gently, and with time they could at least be friends again. But the thought of laying his cards out on the table and having her reject him was. . . embarrassing. Not to mention he would be heartbroken. But was it really better to stay in the dark on such matters?

Sighing yet again, Jeremiah turned the faucet on and splashed water onto his face. Now was not the time to be lost in pointless thoughts. Thinking did nothing. Only action makes changes.

Leaving the bathroom, he made his way back into his little office, figuring he could work until (Y/n) arrived, which would be in. . . ? He checked his watch. An hour. Nodding to himself and wiping his once again sweaty palms on his pants, Jeremiah turned on his security screens, looking to see all was normal. Ecco was patiently waiting for (Y/n)’s arrival as well, ready to lead her through the maze when she did finally show up. Pouring himself a drink, the nervous man sat down and gazed at the newest blueprints laying across his desk. Try as he might, he couldn’t slow his mind down enough to focus. Still, he didn’t give up, and he eventually found himself buried in his work again.

It was quite some time later when Ecco knocked on his door. Leaning back in his chair, Jeremiah told her to enter, expecting (Y/n) to walk in behind him.

Ecco entered alone.

“Ecco. Where is (Y/n)?”

“She never came. She’s nearly an hour late.” Looking to his watch again, Jeremiah saw that she right.

“Maybe something came up, and she couldn’t make it. Did she happen to leave a message?”

“No,” Ecco frowned. “She hasn’t called.”

Jeremiah mirrored the look of concern and confusion on her face. (Y/n) was never late or absent without telling anyone. She was always cautious to tell people where she was. Gotham is a dangerous place.

“I’ll call and see if she answers. Maybe she’s fallen asleep again.” Jeremiah made his way the phone at his desk, stopping as it began to ring. Slowly, he turned to look at Ecco while he picked up. Only a couple of people knew this number. Maybe it was (Y/n)? “Hello.”

“Hello, brother dearest.” Jeremiah’s blood ran cold, and his face grew pale. He knew that voice better than anyone else. It was practically his own.

“Jerome.” He glanced back to Ecco, who tensed at the mention of his name. “How did you find me?”

“That’s not important, bro. What really matters is that I have your precious little girlfriend here with me. And you don’t like that, do you?”

“Jerome, whatever you want, leave her out of it.” Jeremiah grimaced as his brother began to laugh.

“I’d really rather not. I want you to meet me in an hour.”

Jeremiah gulped, wiping his sweaty hand for the third time. “Where?”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

(Y/n) sat in the grass beneath a tree, watching the man who both was and wasn’t Jeremiah pace back and forth before her. She had always had her suspicions about Jerome Valeska but had never asked Jeremiah about him. She had always trusted that he would tell her if he could. Of course, she wasn’t stupid. When she saw the maniac on the television, she first thought it was Jeremiah, but after a quick phone call and some simple research, she reached a solid conclusion: Jeremiah had an evil twin he never told her about.

As ridiculous as it may have seemed at the time, the facts simply didn’t lie. And they most certainly didn’t lie now. Standing in front of her was Jerome Valeska, face full of scars,and his back turned away. (Y/n) figured running was a bad idea, so she didn’t bother to take advantage of being out of his line of sight. She had thought through anything and everything she could do, but between the lack of tools or weapons and being stuck in an almost entirely open field with a gun-wielding manic, her chances of escape were pretty slim. She didn’t want to risk it.

She thought back to when they were in school. Where had Jerome been then? He certainly wasn’t a threat at the time. Or maybe he was, and (Y/n) had just been absolutely clueless. The thought made her shiver.

“Well,” Jerome drawled, turning back to look at her. “Brother dear should be arriving at any minute. Say, you got any good stories?”

“Not really,” she chuckled humorlessly as he came and kneeled in front of her. “Maybe one or two from school.”

“Tell me one.” Jerome sat down and crossed his legs. “Tell me one about my brother. I missed being a part of his life.”

“Okay,” (Y/n) thought carefully. Something entertaining about Jeremiah. . . Thinking of a good story would be easier if she wasn’t so terrified. “Well, I could tell you about the junior prom.”

“Ooh, prom! Goody!”

~~~

“The theme for prom this year is gonna be Under The Sea! Isn’t that cute?” (Y/n) was turned around in her seat, facing Jeremiah, who was already starting today’s classwork. He nodded, adjusting his glasses without looking up. With a slight sigh, (Y/n) turned around, still talking to him. “You have any plans to go with anyone?”

“No.”

“Oh. You don’t want to ask any girl here to the prom? Not one?”

Jeremiah hesitated.

“No.”

(Y/n) whirled around in her seat and nearly screamed, “You are so totally lying, Miah!”

Jeremiah looked up and hushed her, glancing at the few stares her outburst had earned them.

“Sorry.” She apologized meekly, waving at one of her classmates who turned back around. “But really, you have to have someone in mind.”

“I do. But I’m not going to actually ask.”

“Why not?” (Y/n) pouted. “Can you tell me who she is?”

“No.” Jeremiah returned to his paper.

“Well, if you aren’t;t going to ask her to go to the prom, I’m going to ask you.”

“Me?” Jeremiah looked up quickly, nearly knocking his work off his desk.

“Yeah, unless you do wanna ask her to go. But if not, you and I can go instead.” She rubbed her neck. “Just as friends, of course.”

“Ah, yes.” Jeremiah looked back at his worksheet. “As friends.” He started to work again, and (Y/n) turned to look at the worksheet on her desk. How did he already know how to do this?

“I also heard they’re serving lobster at prom. I don’t think that’s true though.”

“This is boring.” Jerome groaned, throwing himself back onto the grass, throwing (Y/n)’s train of thought askew. “I don’t want to hear about you flirting with him. Tell me something embarrassing.”

(Y/n) blinked, remembering her current situation. She looked over and saw Jeremiah himself walking towards them slowly. Jerome followed her gaze and smiled, sitting up and scooting closer to her. He placed the barrel of his pistol to her head and forced her to stand with him.

“It’s about time you showed up.” He giggled. “(Y/n) was just telling me the dullest story everrrr.”

“What do you want from me, Jerome?” Jeremiah raised his hands in surrender. “Why did you have to drag (Y/n) into this?”

“Aw, come on, bro.” Jerome poked (Y/n)’s cheek with the gun. “How else was I gonna getcha to leave your little maze ‘o fun? It’s not like I could have just asked ya.”

Jerome began to laugh like crazy (hmm, I wonder why), and (Y/n) caught Jeremiah’s eye. The two made eye contact for a moment, and Jeremiah nodded at her.

“Aw, you two really are cute.” Jerome kept grinning. “Which means (Y/n) and I would be cute too. ‘Cuz, ya know, same face.”

Jerome gestured to his face with the gun for a moment but suddenly stumbled forward, nearly taking (Y/n) with him. Turning to look, she saw Ecco standing behind them with her own gun in hand. (Y/n) smiled and hugged Ecco.

“Thank you, Thank you both.” She pulled away as Jeremiah joined them, but he wasn’t interested in celebrating just yet. He grabbed (Y/n)’s hand, who in turn grabbed Ecco’s hand, and led them away from the field towards a waiting car. Ecco got into the driver’s seat while Jeremiah and (Y/n) got into the back. Finally out of immediate danger, (Y/n) felt the adrenaline begin to wind down slightly, as she began to tremble. It suddenly hit her how close she had come to dying, and she felt the tears begin to form in her eyes. Jeremiah reached out to comfort her, and she felt him shaking too.

With a sob, she threw herself at him, wrapping him into a hug, which he gladly returned.

“It’s okay, (Y/n). You’re safe now. I won’t let him hurt you.” She cried in his arms for a while longer, as he continued to tell her that she was safe from harm. Inside he knew this was a lie. Now he would be coming for them both, enraged and looking for a way strike back.

They arrived at Jeremiah’s bunker and quickly locked themselves away. (Y/n) went to the restroom to clean herself up a bit, and left Jeremiah and Ecco to talk.

“I think she should stay here with me,” Jeremiah said, pouring himself a glass of something strong. “Jerome will be back.”

“I’ll start the preparations,” Ecco said, and Jeremiah nodded. (Y/n) was in more danger now than ever before, and he was determined to keep her safe.

Maybe he would even tell her he loved her.

#jeremiah valeska #Jeremiah Valeska x reader #Jerome Valeska #Gotham #Gotham fic #Gotham x reader

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spacecakes20 · 3 years

Text

Begin Again

(Chapter 7)

Chapter 8: Luna, Missing Blueprints

Luna’s spring harvest wasn’t anything spectacular. She tried her best not to beat herself up about it; it was her first harvest after all. But the fact that she was losing more money than she was earning bothered her. She wanted to save up to invest in her farmhouse. She just couldn’t survive on a mini-fridge and a microwave anymore. She needed a real kitchen.

“Perhaps you could invest in a chicken coop!” The local carpenter, Robin, had told her. “It’s cheaper than the house upgrade, and you can make extra money off the eggs and mayonnaise.”

She’d kept that in mind, as she made her way to the library. Perhaps she could put in some research on chicken rearing. And maybe beekeeping too. Robin had given her a blueprint on building bee houses, and she wanted to put it to good use.

It was the first day of summer, and the air was as humid as ever. The sun hung high in the sky, the sound of cicadas filled the air, and the smell of nectar caressed her nose. It was an upgrade from the sounds of honking horns and the overwhelming smells of exhaust from broken down cars of the city. The air felt much fresher in the valley. Cleaner. The sounds of nature were much more calming than the chaotic noise of the hustle-and-bustle of Zuzu.

At the library, Luna collected any book related to farming she could get her hands on. She wanted her summer to be better. She wanted to prove that moving to the Valley wasn’t a mistake. She wanted—

“Luna!”

The young farmer turned to the sound of her name. She was greeted by plump rosy cheeks and bright violet hair. Abigail was seated at one of the desks behind the bookshelves.

“Hello, Abigail.” Luna greeted, almost shyly. She still wasn’t used to how close everyone seemed to be in Pelican Town. In the city, people usually went ignored. You were but a single drop of water in the large ocean of the masses. Insignificant.

Abigail had a stack of books next to where she sat at the table. From reading the spins, Luna saw most of them were history and archaeology books. A lot of the others seemed to be based on the occult and witchcraft. She had an open textbook, with a notebook beside it, paragraphs of words already written inside.

“That’s an… interesting assortment of books.” Said Luna, a bit intrigued.

Abigail followed her gaze to her pile of books she had. “Oh yeah.” She laughed, “I’m an archaeology major.” She clarified, “I’ve got final exams coming up.”

That… didn’t explain why she had books about the occult, but Luna decided to ignore that, “That so?”

Abigail nodded, “Yup.” Then, more softly now, “You know the mines in the mountains?”

“Yeah?” Luna answered, unsure where this conversation was going.

“Well, I’m going to explore them!” Abigail said, more confidently, “Figured no one could stop me if it was my job, ya know?”

Luna nodded, not fully understanding where she was coming from but didn’t want to sound rude by asking.

“What about you?” Abigail pointed to Luna’s books with her pencil, “What are you reading up on?”

“Oh,” Luna looked down at her books, and suddenly felt a little sheepish, “Just some books on gardening. Raising chickens and… beekeeping…” She didn’t want the townspeople to think she was incompetent. She was the granddaughter of a farmer, for Yoba’s sake. Wasn’t this kind of thing supposed to be in her blood?

But she wasn’t met with a look of condescension, but was surprised when she got an excited smile instead, “Oooh, are you going to make honey?” Abigail licked her lips at the thought, “When you do, let me know! Mom makes the best honey cakes!”

That caught Luna off guard, “S-sure.” She tried to collect herself, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Abigail simply smiled, “Well, I won’t keep you.” She said, “I’ve gotta cram anyway. I’ll talk to you later!” Then she went back to her studying.

It was almost sad how refreshing it was to hear words of encouragement that sounded genuine, rather than condescending kindness. Luna decided not to dwell on it, deciding to check out her books instead.

...

After spending a few hours on her farm studying, Luna was starting to feel restless. She decided to get started on building those bee houses. Unfortunately for her, she couldn’t find the blueprint. Try as she might, it was like it up and disappeared. She’d thought, with how small her farmhouse was (it was just one room!), it’d be easy to find, but alas; she was out of luck. Perhaps she could go to Robin’s and get another copy. That seemed to be her only option.

She made her way up the mountain, taking in the fresh air. The hike to Robin’s house always felt relaxing, even if it didn’t seem to last too long. Standing in front of Robin’s shop, Luna rang the doorbell. It was only out of politeness. The carpenter had told her many times that it was okay to just come in, but Luna never felt comfortable doing that.

After standing there for what felt like forever, she decided to ring it again. Perhaps Robin couldn’t hear her. The kitchen was in the back of the house, right? Maybe she was making lunch. But the longer she stood there, the more she second-guessed herself. There was a possibility she wasn’t home. Her shoulders deflated with that thought. She was looking forward to putting together the bee houses. It looked like she’d just have to wait another day. Just as she was about to turn and leave, she heard the door open.

Her face lit up, “There you are Robin—”

That… wasn’t Robin at the door. It was her raven-haired son, Sebastian. He wasn’t wearing his black hoodie she had gotten so used to seeing him in. He had on a gray tee-shirt and some black sweatpants. He was as pale as ever, making his purple bags under his eyes more apparent. He looked exhausted, making Luna feel guilty.

“I’m sorry,” She winced at the sound of her voice, “Did I bother you?”

He closed his eyes, putting his hand behind his head, “Not really,” He said, “I was already upstairs.” He opened his eyes and looked to her. His face was unreadable, “Mom went grocery shopping.”

“Oh…” She tried not to sound disappointed, and summoned the brightest smile she could muster, “Well, please let her know I stopped by.” Before she even took two steps, Sebastian spoke up.

“Wait.”

She turned to him, eyeing him curiously.

He hesitated for a second, as though he was weighing his options. Finally, he said, “She should be back soon. You can wait for her inside.”

That… took her by surprise. “Are you sure?”

He simply nodded, opening the door for her wider. She hesitated for a moment. It was very hospitable of him. Unsure with how to respond, she decided to smile, “Thank you.” She said, making her way into the house. He closed the door behind her. The foyer, where Robin did her business, felt smaller standing next to Sebastian. Perhaps it was because he was so tall.

“It’s a lot cooler in the basement.” His words brought her mind back to the forefront. She blinked at him in confusion. It took a while for her to register what he had said.

“Oh!” She laughed at herself, “Thank you.”

He led the way to the hallway, which lead to a doorway. She assumed that must have led to the basement. Come to think of it, she had never come this far into the house before. She normally did business with Robin at the front desk and left.

Sebastian led her down the stairs, and, upon opening the door, led her inside. She was first met with cool air. He was right, it was nicer in the basement. Getting a good look around the room, it was surprisingly neat. The bed was freshly made, clothes in the hamper instead of beside it. She was too used to people her age being more… disorganized.

She noticed Sebastian had made his way to a computer desk. He had two desktops; the one he wasn’t on looked to be for gaming. The LED lights kind of gave it away. Behind his desk was a bookshelf. She must have made her way over there on autopilot because she didn’t remember the walk. She examined the spines, reading them off one by one. There were all kinds of books lined up. Books on programming, gemology and mineralogy, comic books, and graphic novels. He also had his fair share of sci-fi, fantasy, and adventure novels. She recognized a few, from when she used to have time for reading. She had stopped when Charles told her she was “too mature to enjoy childish books.” The sound of typing snapped her out of her thoughts.

“One second,” Sebastian said, typing something up on his computer. He stared at the screen for a minute, perhaps checking his work, before turning his attention to Luna. “Sorry, busy working on a project for a client.”

That piqued her interest, “A client?” She asked, giving him her full attention, “What do you do for a living?”

He paused. He looked to be eyeing her carefully before allowing the words to leave his mouth, “I freelance.” He said finally, “A freelance programmer, specifically.”

“A freelancer, huh?” She responded, impressed. “That’s pretty cool. You’re like your own boss, then?”

He laughed, but it didn’t sound humorous, “I guess you could say that.” Before Luna had time to think about Sebastian’s response further, his computer pinged. He sighed. Without even looking at the screen, he said, “It’s Sam.” He sounded almost exasperated, “He just won’t stop messaging me.” Just as he spoke those words, his door opened. Robin’s bright freckled face peeked through. She looked surprised to see Luna there. Luna suddenly felt self-conscious. Like she’d just been caught alone in a man’s room. Well, she was alone in a man’s room. But not like that.

“Oh, hey Luna.” Robin sent her a smile before turning her attention to her son, “Sebby, I’m just letting you know,” She started carefully, “I ran into Abigail at the store. She said she’s looking for you.”

That seemed to have made Sebastian's shoulders deflate, as he sat back in his chair. He ran his fingers through his hair, slowly, “Did you tell her I’m working?”

Robin looked almost guilty, “I did…” She looked at him apologetically, “But she said she may stop by anyway.”

That only seemed to earn a groan from Sebastian. Robin sent him a sympathetic smile before turning her gaze to Luna, “If you need anything, I’ll be in the kitchen making dinner.” With that, she left, closing the door behind her.

Sebastian put his hands on his face and took in a deep breath. “No one seems to take my job seriously.” He mumbled, pushing his hands through his already messy hair. Luna wasn’t sure if she was meant to hear that. “No one bothers Maru when she’s busy at the clinic.”

Luna could have taken that as an opportunity to leave. She could have given Sebastian her thanks and followed Robin. She could have done that. But she didn’t. Of course, she didn’t. She could never take the easy way out, now could she?

“So…” Her voice drifted. Sebastian sent her a look from the corner of his eye. She had his attention, so no sense in turning back now, “A programmer, huh?” She said, searching her brain for the right thing to say. She knew what she wanted to say, but finding how to say it always proved difficult. “That’s pretty impressive. Self-taught?” She recalled seeing more than a few computer science books on his shelf.

“Yeah,” He sat back in his chair, “Bet if I had gone to school, I’d probably be making six figures by now.”

Luna couldn’t hold back a snort, “Yeah, and you’d be spending most of it on student loans.” She laughed almost bitterly.

A ghost of a smile graced his lips, but it was gone too quick for Luna to realize if it was even there in the first place, “I just…” He looked away from her, eyes focused on his keyboard, “…Don’t want to be part of the cooperate rat race, you know?”

She got that. Boy did she get that. Climbing the cooperate ladder didn’t require hard work. Not like how she was taught. No, it required connections. It didn’t matter how good you were at your job, if you weren’t friends with the right person, you’ll never make it out of your position. It was disheartening seeing people get promoted over someone who was better qualified. And all because they couldn’t play the game. It happened far too often.

“If it makes you feel any better…” Luna smiled, trying to lighten the mood, “I got a degree in economics. Now I’m a farmer. So now my degree is the most expensive mouse pad that I own.”

That earned the amused response she was hoping for. Sebastian shook his head, “Economics, huh?”

“Mom wanted me to become an accountant.” Luna shrugged. More like she wanted Luna to get a "real job" when she told her mother she was thinking about majoring in Fine Arts. But Sebastian didn't need to know that. "Didn't work out that way, but hey, what can you do."

He nodded before turning his head to the ceiling. Leaning back in his computer chair, he looked to be lost in thought. “I plan on moving to the city.” He seemed to have surprised himself with that statement, as though he didn’t mean to say it out loud. At least, not to her. He sat up straighter in his chair, “Not too many work opportunities here in the valley.” He cracked his knuckles before his hands hovered over the keyboard. He looked to her, his face back to its default stoic self, “Don’t think I’m kicking you out,” He said, “But I need to get this finished by tomorrow.”

It wasn’t so much as a hint, as it was a huge neon sign. Contrary to what he was saying, he was, in fact, kicking her out.

“Alright.” She made her way to the door, before turning to Sebastian, “It was nice talking with you.” And she meant it. It was perhaps the first real conversation the two had alone together. He didn’t word his response, simply humming back to her. He was probably too focused on work. She didn’t mind. She had invaded his space long enough. In the meantime, she needed to ask Robin about those blueprints so that she could get back to work too.

#stardew valley #stardew fanfic #stardew valley sebastian #stardew sebastian #sebastian x farmer

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mollymauk-teafleak · 4 years

Text

baby, you’re like lightning in a bottle (chapter one)

Peter Nureyev has a new name, a fake identity, a fake life to step into to complete his very first off planet solo mission. Unfortunately, it involves going undercover as a high school student at Oldtown High. And the people he meets there mean his mission will go anything but smoothly.

This high school AU was the idea of my amazing girlfriend @spiky-lesbian

Please leave a comment over on ao3 or reblog if you like this!

---

If he repeated his mission over and over again in his head, he couldn’t fail.

That’s what Peter Nureyev told himself as he sat on the hard plastic chair, gripping it’s edge with knuckles tighter than they needed to be, his jaw set hard like he was trying to chew something that wouldn’t go down. He would fix his face, smooth his posture, shift his face into the look of unshakable confidence he’d spent so long perfecting but he needed to look nervous right now. He needed to look like a cornered animal.

Which was convenient, at least. Less work for him.

Repeat the instructions. Remember the rules. Follow the plan. Don’t fuck up. It sounded so simple and, if Peter believed hard enough, it would be. First rule of thieving, belief in your own skills is half the battle.

There was a secretary at a desk across from him, taking up most of what little room there was in the anteroom to the office. She was mostly focused on her computer screen, typing or tiredly slapping the flat of her hand against it when it glitched out, but every so often she’d give him a sympathetic glance. The kind of glance you’d naturally give a clearly underfed, scrawny teenager, starting a brand new school in the dead centre of the roughest part of Oldtown, with his too big, second hand clothes, scuffing his worn trainers against the carpet. The kind of glance that said oh you poor thing, you have no idea what you’re in for.

If only she knew, Peter thought with a dry amusement. If only she knew just how far he’d travelled, how out of his element he was right now, how he’d simultaneously faced things so much worse than a high school and was so deeply terrified by it. If she saw everything in his cheap rucksack that weren’t school supplies; the long range signal device, the pen drive stuffed full of the galaxy’s most insidious malware, the plasma knife, all carefully concealed amongst the notebooks and pens and pencils. Peter wondered how her face would change then.

It was as if remembering it was there had reminded him what he was here to do and the nerves welled up fresh, like a wound had been prodded. His heart began to thud in his thin chest, his palms began to prickle with heat, the old tic he’d been trying so hard to suppress made his knee bounce. Peter tried to tell himself it would be fine, talking himself through the plan, repeating the mission again and again as if to prove to himself that he knew it by heart. As if simply remembering the words Mag had left him with would be the same as pulling off his very first solo, off planet job.

First rule of thieving, don’t go into a gig you aren’t ready for. Mag was a pragmatist, he’d always been the one sensibly pouring water on Peter’s fervour, after all, making their risks calculated and manageable. And so much was riding on this, the work Peter did here would open up whole new streams of income for them back on Brahma, so much more fuel for the fight. With everything invested in it, the ticket to Mars, the accomodation for a month, the effort to build Peter a fake life solid enough to get him enrolled in a government funded high school, there was no room to play it fast and loose. If Mag said his apprentice was ready for this, then it had to be true. When had he ever steered him wrong?

Peter allowed himself a sigh, one that the secretary wouldn’t hear or, if she did, she’d chalk it up to the understandable anxiousness of the new kid. He’d come a long way from the first time he’d stolen an apple from a stall under Mag’s careful eye.

To keep himself focused, he played a game. Peter did that a lot, he found himself uncomfortable with any time not consumed by some useful distraction. It was why he always listened to the radio as he fell asleep, no matter how many times Mag threatened to take the power brick out of it. He just couldn’t stand idle silence. So he pushed his glasses up his nose and took a quick study of the secretary’s desk to see what information he could glean about her.

His brain worked fast, plucking the bits of information out greedily. Family picture, wife, three children. Notes on her desk, the numbers of different homes for the elderly in Hyperion. Infirm parents and an upcoming heavy drain on her finances, then. Her nails were long but the polish was chipping, like she drummed them on her desk frequently. A short temper or just stressed? More likely the latter, she’d been kind to him so far. Or at least as kind as someone who worked in a place where she must see a hundred neglected, underweight kids with clear signs of poverty could afford to be without going insane. Her desk had no signs of organisation whatsoever, not so much as a sticky note to pin a flag in that riot of loose papers. So she was distracted, under pressure and clearly prone to losing track of information.

Peter thought he could drain the full contents of her bank account within a month.

Obviously, thinking that didn’t make him feel good and he’d never actually do it. But he could feel how proud Mag would be, if he brought him all of that from just a minute of observation, her whole life mapped out in a blueprint. How he’d smile at him and squeeze his shoulder and remind him of the first rule of thieving, know how to read your marks in a single glance, a glance might be all you get. Peter had mastered that one at age seven.

The secretary’s intercom buzzed suddenly and Peter didn’t need to fake his nervous jolt at the harsh, staticy sound. The voice on the other end was too muddy to make out but the secretary lifted her eyes and said, “You can go on through now. Mr Spoor is ready for you.”

Nureyev nodded, scrambling to his feet, patting himself down in a way that would look like he was trying to neaten himself up when in fact, he was deliberately ruffling his hair, yanking down his t-shirt so the frays on the hem would be visible, missing the smudge under his ear. First rule of thieving, you’re never in such a position of power as when the mark underestimates you.

The principal’s office was pretty meagre but at least had a slight edge on the rest of his run down, underfunded school. The chair Peter sat in was worn through so the stuffing poked out, the desk between them had deep gouges in it that hadn’t been sanded down, the computer to the side of them was an ancient model that Peter could have cracked with his eyes closed. That boded well for the rest of his mission.

“It’s customary to have these orientation meetings with your guardian present,” the principal's voice was cool and had no trace of a warm welcome in it, not even a greeting. It matched the expression on his craggy face, “I was expecting to meet them.”

“Um…” Peter swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortably, shrinking himself down, “They, uh...my dad...he...he was sick this morning so he couldn’t come.”

There was a lot that could be read into that, half a hundred hidden explanations that, given the catchment area of Oldtown High, Mr Spoor would have seen again and again. So he didn’t press, just giving Peter an unimpressed glance like it was his fault that his non existent father was absent, turning to the screen.

“Very well then...Peter Ransom, correct?”

“That’s right…” Peter nodded.

“That’s right, sir.”

Peter gave a little start, cheeks reddening to come off as merely intimidated and unsure rather than outwardly defiant. As fun as that would be, it wouldn’t make his task any easier, “Sir. Sorry. Sir.”

Mr Spoor likely would have narrowed his lips if they weren’t already worn down to a permanent grimace of disapproval, turning back to the screen and whatever information was on there. Most of it counterfeit, of course.

“So you were born on the outer rim...passable scores in your previous assessments…”

Peter kept his face impassive, though something roiled inside him. The grades Mag had put together for him were fantastic, he knew that for a certainty, and he could match them with his ability. But he didn’t rise, he didn’t bite. He just looked suitably shy and intimidated, scuffing the toe of his sneaker against the floor, fidgeting with the large, second hand glasses Mag had given him to replace his usual sleek, cat eye ones.

“You’ll be starting with us as a senior, given your age and...supposed ability. I expect you to maintain an acceptable standard of work, given that you’re joining so late in the year. We cannot afford for you to fall behind,” Mr Spoor continued, looking more at the screen than the child in front of him, “What is it exactly that brings someone from a place like Brahma to a Martian high school?”

Peter swallowed, “My dad got a job on Mars, sir. He said things would be better for us here...that I’d be able to go to a good school and make friends…”

The principal didn’t even try to hide his snort of disdain, deepening Peter’s instantly formed dislike of the man. He must have thought this new student of his was blind, that he hadn’t seen the graffiti covering the front of the building, how the chairs didn’t match in the classrooms he’d passed, how the books were dog eared and the floors permanently scuffed. Did he enjoy seeing these children clearly born just after the war, with their tattered families and nightmares of a time they could only half remember, crossing the galaxy for something close to a life worth living, coming through his school and being ground down just like the rest of them? Did he find it amusing, seeing a boy who’d grown up scared of the sky itself daring to hope that things might be better here?

Again, Peter repeated his mission in his head.

“We might as well take you on,” Mr Spoor said, as if he didn’t particularly care one way or the other, “I’m sure you’ll fit right in with our other students.” The way he said it made it sound neither reassuring or like a positive.

“Thank you, sir,” Peter feigned a mix of relief, excitement and fear, “I promise I’ll work really hard and do really well.”

The look Mr Spoors gave him made him wonder how he’d like a plasma knife at his throat but, thankfully, it was brief, soon replaced by dismissal, “You’ll begin classes after lunch. Go wait outside again and my secretary will give you your timetable.”

With more breathless, slightly panicked enthusiasm, Peter retreated, looking forward to rewarding himself with a momentary, bitter scowl in between the door closing and approaching the secretary.

But, as it happened, he never got the chance. Because there was now another student was occupying the same chair he’d been sitting on. And Peter’s heart stopped dead for a moment, for a number of reasons.

One, their face was covered in blood. Splatters of it radiated out from a nose that was now swollen and tender, from a lip that was messily split, and Peter knew enough of basic field medicine to know their left eye would be black and purple and swollen nearly shut the next day. The fists angrily clenched in their lap had split knuckles too, just to complete the image.

Two, the face beneath the gore was beautiful.

Peter steadied himself, swallowing hard and taking the seat next to his new schoolmate. Almost immediately, the uninjured eye fixed a glare on him so sharp and vicious that Peter promptly shifted to the next chair along.

He knew the over eager, overcompensating new student he was supposed to be playing would immediately try to make friends, stick his hand out in the gap between them and introduce himself in a too loud, too sunny voice as Peter Ransom. Probably to be met with another glare and possibly a punch to the face, given how much they were twitching with what was clearly post-fight adrenaline. But for some reason, he couldn’t quite manage it so they sat in a frosty silence, punctuated only by the secretary's nails tapping on her computer keys and the steady drip of blood from their nose to the floor.

Still, Peter had a thief’s curiosity. He stole enough glances at the other kid to glean a little bit about them. They were his age, though shorter and stockier by nature, with an anger naturally set into their face that poor newbie Peter Ransom would never feel. Their hair was a mess of black curls, piled on top of their head and shaved underneath, their ear held numerous piercings they were clearly too young to have acquired legally or hygienically. That surely wouldn’t be permitted by the dress code Peter had studied avidly along with the schematics of the school, the faculty list and every other piece of information he’d been able to get about Oldtown High, determined to do a good and thorough job. The code would probably have had something to say about their combat boots that were a size too big, their fishnet tights and short skirt, their sleeveless shirt with, incongruously, a picture of a cartoon man on it and the bright, bubbly text reading ‘Turbo!’. There had probably been bigger misdemeanours to think about at the time than a dress code violation.

“What the hell are you staring at?”

Peter jumped at the rough, angry voice, realising the kid was scowling right at him. Their face was clearly made for that expression; Peter had faced down armed guards, lasers from the clouds, jobs that would have landed him in jail for ten times the years he’d been alive but he’d seldom felt so intimidated.

And people didn’t normally notice him looking. After all, first rule of thieving, your eyes are your greatest weapon, don’t be obvious when you use them.

“I...nothing, I’m not…” he searched for a response, glad it was in Ransom’s nature to be easily put off.

“Do I look like the kind of guy you want to mess with right now?” the scowl deepened, sending a fresh line of blood running down their chin from their broken lip.

“Um...no,” Peter decided it was better to give simple answers.

“Yeah,” they gave a dry snort with no humour in it, “So keep your eyes to yourself or lose them, pal.”

Blood, angry tones and threats didn’t scare Peter Nureyev but they weren’t the reason he looked away hastily and was glad of it. It had more to do with dark eyes, holding depths he knew he’d never open up with just a glance, a faded white scar across a flat nose that he thought he’d like to trace with the very tip of his finger, full lips that looked soft somehow even as they were curled in anger.

Peter gave himself a mental slap, repeating his mission again, louder and firmer. He could practically hear Mag laughing at him all the way from Brahma.

First rule of thieving, stop mooning after every pretty boy who so much as glances at you, Pete! How many times do I have to tell you?

He had to admit, he’d been hoping for a smoother start on his first off planet solo mission.

Fortunately, the secretary spoke up not long after, “Peter? Peter Ransom?”

He jumped to his feet, receiving a few papers from her. A class schedule, a map and an outline of expected behaviour. Peter had seen all of this and far, far more in his research but he made sure Ransom looked at it with apprehension, as if it was written in another language.

“And for you, Mr Steel, another detention slip,” her voice took on a kind of fond, bemused exhaustion, “Add it to the collection.”

The other student jumped up and swiped the pink piece of paper from her hands, stuffing it carelessly in the pocket of his skirt, “Thanks, Brenda.”

She rolled her eyes and turned to Peter, “It’s lunchtime at the moment, I’m sure Mr Steel here would be happy to show you to the cafeteria.”

Instantly, Mr Steel stiffened and shot her an exasperated look which she soundly ignored, turning back to her computer screen in a manner that suggested he could stand and look at her like that all day, for all she cared. Eventually, he gave a growl and stomped out of the office, down the corridor. Peter followed, pausing in the doorway to give him a chance to storm off and leave him behind.

There was no hiding his surprise when, after a few seconds, he snapped, “Are you coming or what?”

Peter did.

Nureyev knew every inch of the hallways but of course Ransom didn’t, so he fixed an expression of wary awe on his face. There were some things that didn’t take a lot of effort, like the swear word carved into one locker that he’d never even heard of or when the sound of a muffled explosion shook the floor above them where the science rooms were. They passed other students, who shot unsurprised looks at the state of Steel and appraised him like a piece of fresh meat in a butcher’s. Peter would have loved the chance to try his knife or his wits against one of them, he’d long ago learned to make up for the scrawny appearance that made them look at him so hungrily.

Stick to the mission. Follow the instructions. Do your job.

Abruptly, Steel stopped, without turning around, “Cafeteria’s down that way. See you.”

Peter blinked, glancing at the double doors he was indicating with a thumb, which were practically shaking out of their frames with the sound of what had to be a riot behind them, “Aren’t you eating too?”

“What’s it to you, pal?” Juno did turn then, just enough to fix him with an incredulous look.

Before Peter had to come up with an answer, they were interrupted by a loud shout of, “Juno!”

Peter thought his eyes were playing tricks on him for a moment, an exact copy of Steel was bounding down some stairs to their left. Except this one was smiling, a hundred kilowatt grin, and wearing leggings, an oversize sweatshirt and sneakers that flashed when they hit the floor.

“Oh god, Juno, your face is a mess,” he grimaced at the sight of his twin’s face, “Jones did a number on you, huh?”

“‘Bout half the number I did on them, they got carted off to the emergency room,” Steel, now Juno, grunted, still stiff and awkward, throwing glances in Peter’s direction.

“I’m sure they deserved it,” the other Steel shrugged, turning their grin on Peter, “Hey! I’m Benzaiten, you can call me Ben or Benten. You new?”

“Um, yes! I just started today actually, I...I’m from off planet and…”

“That’s cool! You can tell us more over lunch,” Ben’s tidal wave of positivity bowled over him, reaching out and squeezing his shoulder.

Both Juno and Peter froze.

“Over what now?”

“Uh, that’s kind of you but...um, I don’t know if I…”

“He’s new, Juno, of course he’s coming to sit with us!” Ben shrugged, like the matter was obvious.

Juno was staring daggers at his twin, looking ready to throttle him, “The guy says he’s fine, so he’s fine.”

“Come on, Juno, don’t be a bitch,” Ben laughed fondly, like he didn’t see that his twin was gritting his teeth hard enough to shatter, “We’d better get moving, Mick and Sasha will already be waiting…”

He turned on his neon flashing heel and bounced down the hall in the complete opposite direction to the cafeteria, not waiting for them. Juno groaned and pressed his fingertips to his temples like he was trying to ward off a migraine. After what was clearly him counting backwards from ten, he frowned and set off after his brother.

“Come or don’t come,” he growled over his shoulder at Peter, “I couldn’t care less.”

For a moment, neither Nureyev nor Ransom really knew what to do. He repeated his mission again in his head.

Blend in. Sneak in after dark. Find the evidence. Upload the malware. Send it to Mag. Run.

Nowhere in that list did it say follow a beautiful, angry stranger and his bubblegum brother god only knew where. In fact, Peter was pretty sure they fell squarely under the definition of a distraction, something he knew to avoid. He knew what the sensible choice was, the decision someone who could be trusted with missions like this, who would work tirelessly to be the best thief he could be, would make.

But...wouldn’t this count as blending in?

Armed with that flimsy excuse, Peter followed Juno Steel.

#jupeter #juno steel #peter nureyev #high school au #benzaiten steel #mick mercury #ben/mick #sasha wire #slow burn #enemies to friends to lovers #please reblog!#or comment!#or both!#make my whole damn day!

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skullrock · 4 years

Text

the partners, chapter nine - Steve x Reader

chapter nine - hand in glove

series summary: you and Steve are police apprentices at Hawkins Police Station in the fall of 1986. you get along famously, but there’s something Steve is hiding, and there is an unknown evil lurking in Hawkins. [friends to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff]

chapter summary: You and Steve attempt to escape the base, which goes a bit easier - and a bit worse - than imagined.

warnings: swearing, violence, mentions of blood, punching, etc

word count: 4.1k

a/n: here’s the Spotify playlist that goes with the series, and you can catch up here. we have FANART NOW folks and I have literally not stopped crying over it!! pls go give Andy some love <3 please lmk your thoughts on this chapter! we are almost done bois! love u! also - phrases in italics = memories!

===

As if would turn out, sneaking around a secret Russian base with a concussion was not very easy.

You were taken out almost immediately just by the lights out in the Interrogation Hub. Steve kept watch as you bent over and squeezed your eyes shut, trying to find an angle that didn’t make your ribs ache. His hand stayed on your back the entire time, rubbing it in attempt to comfort you.

“I know it’s not fun,” he says.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you whisper, but Steve gently guides you to start walking. He knows if you don’t keep going, you’re not going to make it. And he’d like to take you on a date after all of this.

“We gotta find … walkie… first,” you remind, and Steve nods.

“I have the plan, just relax.”

“Sometimes I forget you’re not totally helpless.”

“You’re on thin ice, Y/N.”

The halls are as deserted as they were when you arrived, much to your relief. It was easy to keep walking, but not easy to know where you were going. It felt like you and Steve were walking in constant circles, and Steve’s anxiety rose each time they walked into another stark white hallway. The sound of voices down the hall forced you both to take refuge in a random room, Steve’s fists raised to fight in case anyone was inside. But it was bare – and full of everything you needed.

On the far wall was a control board, which was in front of a huge wall of screens. You could look and see all of the security cameras on them. This would be helpful if it weren’t for the fact that there were easily 75 screens, and each room looked exactly the same. In the middle of the room was a long table, and there sat your knife, walkie, and gun.

“This seems too easy,” Steve mumbles, fists lowering.

“Maybe the author is taking it easy on us,” you mutter, leaning heavily into him. Your head spins and hurts, your chest aches when you breathe. You don’t remember ever being so miserable, and you want nothing more than to break down and cry. And sleep. Thankfully, the adrenaline keeps your ass in gear, spurring you to keep going.

“God, you’re really concussed,” Steve says. He leads you slowly to a chair at the table and you slowly sit, reveling in the feeling of being grounded. Steve picks up the walkie and hesitantly turns it on.

“Uh, this is –“

He doesn’t even finish before a cacophony of voices scream from the box, making you groan loudly. Steve hisses and turns the volume down before growling, “One at a time! Over!”

“We thought you guys died,” you hear Mike say. “We thought you guys were dead! Over!”

“Steve, are you okay?” Robin asks. “Where’s Y/N?”

You reach up and pry the walkie from Steve’s hands. “This is Juliet. Have you called Owens?”

“Yeah, like, two hours ago,” you hear Lucas say. “Joyce is losing her shit.”

“Guys, please don’t forget to say over,” you hear Mike groan somewhere in the background.

“Is he on his way?” You ask. “We could really use the help.”

“Mom went to meet them at the station, we had to fill her in,” Will says.

“We’re here with her,” Dustin says. “He should be here any minute!”

Steve snatches the walkie from you. “We don’t have time to waste. We don’t know how to get out of here, and Y/N isn’t doing so hot.”

“It’s Juliet,” you say weakly. Steve pinches the bridge of his nose and looks at you like you’re an idiot – but there’s still some love in his eyes, too.

“Look, if Mike wasn’t so fucking sure that we should use code names, then I wouldn’t –“

“We don’t know how to get out,” Steve continues into the radio. “We’re in those tunnels that the Demodogs were travelling through.”

“The ones from last season?!” Max asks.

“Yes, those –“

A song of voices rings out again, this time sounding confused and shocked. You slip away as Steve attempts to explain everything quickly. You head over to the opposite side of the room, away from the screens, and find a series of desks. The desks have things like pencils and protractors on them, and you squint. One desk has what looks like a blueprint on it. Stepping forward, you grab the paper, revealing another set of plans underneath. They’re maps.

“Found something,” you say weakly, and Steve strides over. You hand him one of the more legible plans – architecture and design is not your forte, nor is it his. It’s staggering, the number of tunnels, the number of hubs, all running underneath Hawkins. There were miles and miles of them, and your stomach dropped. These tunnels had been fully functioning as a Russian base for more than a year, and the people put in office to protect you allowed it.

But another realization hits you after that, sending your stomach to your toes: If you’re not close to the exit, you won’t make it.

The rooms are written out in Russian, but you can get a sense of where you are, and you can tell where you had come from. The interrogation hub was clearly marked out, as it had about a dozen rooms within it. You had only gone maybe three hubs and hallways from it, and Steve points out a closet marked with a camera – that’s probably where you were. The exit is on the very far end of the tunnels, where the bar is on the other side of town. You were about ten hubs away from it.

“Closer than we thought,” Steve mumbles, and you scrunch your nose.

“Ten hubs is going to take like, forty five minutes to clear. And we are….” You gesture to yourself and then to him.

“Yeah, it’ll suck, but we can do it,” he says. “I’ve been through worse.”

“Congrats.”

“You get so mouthy when you’re concussed, you know that?”

“I get mouthy when I am about to die, Steve, thanks.”

Steve rolls his eyes and lifts the walkie-talkie back to his mouth. “We’ve got a map. We’re kind of close to the exit through the bar. We’re going to go for it and keep you updated. Over.”

You grab the walkie from him weakly. “Make sure they know we’re down here, yeah? Don’t want to get mowed down by bullets.”

“Got it. Standing by,” Dustin says.

“Going off walkie, talk soon, over.”

Steve takes the walkie back, which is good, because every word that comes out of your mouth makes your head spin and stomach lurch. You grab the gun and knife.

“Woah, hey,” he says, gently grabbing your wrist. “Don’t think you can shoot that in your state.”

“My gun,” you whisper. “Keeping it.”

Steve knows realistically he probably couldn’t shoot a gun right now. He’s keeping cool and positive on the outside, but he’s screaming bloody murder on the inside. He’s terrified to lose you. He knows you’re not doing well; he can see the miserable look behind your eyes, how you wince with each step, how labored your breathing is from the pain. He has no idea how you’re going to make it, other than through sheer willpower - which he knows you possess. Steve also feels like his heart is ricocheting through his body. Every look at you reminds him of things he should have said or did. Every look reminds him of how much he loves you, how much he fucked up.

Yeah, he probably couldn’t shoot a gun right now. Neither could you. But someone should have one. He makes a mental note of where it is on you, tucked into your waistband and sitting on your waist, in case he needs to use it on your behalf.

You carefully put the knife into your garter again and give a thumbs up. Steve’s hand grips the map and he clips the walkie to his uniform before sighing heavily and leading you into the hallway.

You’re met immediately by five people in uniforms similar to Steve’s. You both freeze, eyes wide. Steve’s about to grab your gun but the men simply nod and continue. Steve breathes out a sigh of relief and he takes your hands behind your back to create the impression that he’s taking you somewhere.

“They’re morons,” Steve says to you. “Idiots.”

You make it through two hubs carefully and without incident, but each step is starting to feel like a death march for you. You try to act strong so that Steve doesn’t freak, but you’re almost positive you’re about to collapse.

You enter the third hub. Steve lifts the walkie. “This is – us – we are heading into the third hub right n-“

He’s cut off by the lights turning red and an alarm blaring. You begin to drop to the floor at the noise but Steve grabs you around the waist, holding you steady. “Shit.”

“What’s going on?” Robin asks through the radio.

“Is Owen’s here?” Steve asks. “Or –“

“They know we’re missing,” you answer for him. “They’re looking for us.”

Steve throws his head back, and if he had a free hand, he would run it aggressively through his hair. He straightens you with his arm still around your waist and lifts the walkie back up. “We’ve got company!”

“He should be here any minute!” Robin stresses, and you can hear the panic in her voice. “Hide, or –“

“Yeah, got it, Rob,” he says harshly into the radio. “Stand by.”

Steve clips the radio to himself and uses both hands to steady you, still gripping the map. He turns you to look at him. You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen him look so serious.

“I know you don’t think you have it in you, but you do, okay?” he says sternly. “We have to get out of here. I’ll help you, just –“

“I can’t,” you whisper, emotions rolling through you heavily. Your eyes well up with tears. “Please, just go –“

“No,” he says, gripping onto your shoulders. “I’m not leaving here without you, understand? You’re coming with me. You’re my partner, remember? We don’t leave each other behind.”

You groan and squeeze your eyes shut to stop the tears. “If we live through this, I’m going to kill you.”

He quirks a smile and quickly says, “I think you mean kiss,” before guiding you towards the next hallway.

The bad news – the hallway is stocked full of Russians in uniforms who are looking for you both.

The good news – there are so many of them that they cannot tell that you and Steve are, in fact, you and Steve.

The next bad news – you and Steve are split up almost immediately.

One guard shouts at Steve and grabs you from him – he must assume you’re another prisoner. The guard escorts you roughly down the hallway and you look back at Steve, eyes wide, matching his. He tries to shout after the man who has you, but the other shouting and chaos in the hallway drowns him out. You were expecting to get shot and killed, but this is somehow way worse.

Steve tries to push through the crowd, but he is physically unable; it’s a small hallway, after all. The panic rises in him and he tries to calm himself down, tries to watch where you’re being taken, but it’s so god damn dim and red and he can’t differentiate between anyone. Suddenly, he’s being pushed with the rest in the direction you both just came from, as you head the other way.

Luckily for you, you still have the gun. And although you are tripping over yourself, even though the feeling of the guard’s fingers digging into your bruised skin hurts, you can still remember how to use it. The guard takes you into an empty hallway and heads for one of the rooms off of it, letting go of you briefly to unlock it with his card. You move quickly, grabbing the gun from your waistband and lifting it.

This one puts up a fight, much unlike the young man you encountered before. A scuttle ensues as he grabs your forearms, attempting to throw you to the ground. You plant your feet though, and the sheer adrenaline helps you rip your arm from his grip and slam the pistol down onto his head. He drops and you lean against the wall, catching your breath.

If you didn’t feel like you were going to die before, you definitely feel it now.

You give yourself a moment to catch your breath and push off of the wall. You can slightly remember the path you had taken to get here, and you attempt to retrace your steps. You know there’s no point in trying to find Steve. Not only can he hold himself – probably – but there’s no way in hell you could take care of yourself andfind him. You walk aimlessly, using the wall for support, stopping every so often to steady yourself. You’re thankful for the dim red lights, even if they flash. It’s better than the stark white you were working with.

You’re also thankful that the guards are somewhere else, because the empty hallways help you navigate quicker than you would otherwise.

Stepping gingerly, you continue your path, simply hoping something familiar comes up or, by some miracle, Steve finds you. Your heart hurts that you didn’t get to tell him one last time that you love him. Fear grips you – what if he dies without knowing? But he probably does know, and he’s probably very smug about it, and the thought of that dumb, smug smile helps you continue to put one foot in front of the other.

You enter a new hallway. Stopping momentarily to catch your breath and rest, you lean against the wall. Your eyes close and you want nothing more than to just sleep. Just a quick nap. Just a –

Someone grabs you roughly and throws you to the floor before you can finish your thought. Your head slams against the tile and you see stars, nothing but stars against a black background. Your ears ring and you weakly reach up to protect yourself, but you’re lifted and slammed against the wall.

“Steve?” you slur stupidly, remembering what happened the last time you both found each other.

The laugh that answers confirms that this is not Steve – it’s Edwards.

“Got split up?” he asks, and he throws you against the wall again, making you cry out.

“A bit,” you reply weakly. You try to knee him, but your leg only lifts about two inches before it falls back down.

Edwards grabs your jaw and jerks it so that you look at him – or, well, face him. You couldn’t open your eyes from the pain.

“You kids have been a pain in my ass since you first started,” he says, and a punch to the stomach sends you careening backwards. You black out for just a moment and he throws you to the floor.

You’re pretty okay with your fate at this point. It hurts, you don’t have Steve, Steve could be dead – this is okay, you think. You’re at peace with it. You just hope it comes quick. You curl into the fetal position, wincing at the pain in your stomach and ribs, and wait for the fatal blow or bullet to come.

“Only wish your boyfriend could be here to watch,” he says, and you hear the gun cock.

He’s not my boyfriend, you think. Not yet.

“Any last words?”

Typical, you think. You open your mouth to respond, but someone responds for you.

“Go to hell.”

Steve’s fist makes contact with Edwards’ nose, a sickening crunch ringing through the air. In shock, Edwards drops his gun, before swinging at Steve. Steve dodges it and throws another fist, which collides with Edwards’ jaw. Edwards manages to grab Steve and throw him down, but Steve pulls him down, too. They struggle with each other, fists being thrown every which way, and you hear the contact from your position on the floor. You are impressed with Steve’s good timing, impressed with his sick-ass comeback, impressed with his punches.

But here’s the thing – you know Steve’s track record. You also know now that Edwards is a sick fucking sociopath with a few tricks up his sleeve. You need to help Steve or you’re both dead.

You pick yourself up off the floor with all the energy you have left and grab the pistol from your waistband.

“It’s simple, really,” Edwards said. “First, make sure safety is off.”

You click the safety off.

“Make sure your feet are planted firmly. Good position is key.”

You plant your feet, one slightly in front of the other.

“Have good posture. Keep your shoulders back and chin up. Don’t take your eyes off of the target.”

You roll your shoulders back and straighten as best as you can, despite the protests from your ribcage. You force your eyes open wide, focusing on Edwards, who is still scuttling with Steve. He’s a moving target, and you’re not sure if you’re going to hit Steve or him, but you still line the gun up with Edwards’ figure.

“Be ready for the recoil – it’ll hurt if you’re not prepped,” Edwards said, making sure to straighten your arms as you focused on the target. “Keep your arms straight as an arrow.”

You straighten your arms, gun held out in front of you, trained on Edwards’ figure. Steve shoves Edwards off of him and he flies backwards, giving you a bit of separation. You train the gun and your eyes on him.

“Take a deep breath,” Edwards had instructed. “And then shoot.”

You take a deep breath. Edwards flies back towards Steve and you force yourself to keep your eyes open as you shoot.

The shot rings through the air.

At first, Steve thinks he’s the one who’s been hit, and he gasps, eyes squeezed shut. He waits for the pain, but it never comes. He slowly opens his eyes to find Edwards on the floor, shot in the shoulder. He’s alive – and fine – but stunned into silence. Steve’s brows furrow, confusion surging through him, until he hears the gun hit the tile, you dropping right after it.

Steve runs for you, holding you tightly against his chest. You just saved his life, twice in one night. The appreciation, the adoration, the horror, the love all travels through his veins at once, and tears run down his face without Steve even realizing.

You are simply spent – there’s no way you’re going to keep going after this.

“You okay?” you whisper.

Steve is, miraculously, fine. None of Edwards’ punches landed, and he got Edwards pretty good, too. He laughs softly in disbelief. “Never been better,” he says dryly. “You?”

Your eyes meet his and the look in them tells him what you need to say. You can’t keep going. You have to stay back. You have to wait for Owens.

But Steve knows that can’t happen. If you’re left alone, you’ll fall asleep, and honestly, who knows what will happen after that? It’s not an option to leave you behind – it never was.

Steve quickly scrambles to get the map out of his pocket. He unfolds it and points. “Look, we’re so close, Y/N, so close. The exit is right there – we can make it, come on!”

He attempts to lift you, but you cry out, so he slowly lowers you back down. Edwards groans from behind you and Steve turns to him, snapping, “I’ll shoot you if you so much as twitch.”

Steve looks back to you, his eyes searching yours. You think he looks so handsome down here in the red lighting. Your hand reaches to his face and you cup it again. “Go ahead.”

“No.” Steve licks his lips and gently grabs your shoulders. “You didn’t owe me a damn thing, and you came for me, and you stayed for me. I will never be able to return that favor, but I can try, right now. I’m not leaving you. You’re not dying down here.”

“Steve,” you mumble.

“Y/N, you have to get up,” he pleads, voice cracking. “I only got to love you for a few hours, and I – I want to spend the rest of my life doing that. But I can’t do that when you’re dead, okay? Or – I guess I could, it would just be really sad –“

“Steve,” you repeat.

“I’m going to take you on the best dates,” he continues. “I’m going to take you everywhere you have ever wanted to go. I will take you to see the National Parks, I’ll take you to that stupid candy themed amusement park in Oklahoma. You always wanted to go to it, right? I’ll take you to the Empire State Building, I’ll take you to Hollywood, I don’t care. I’ll cook for you, I’ll bake you danishes every single day for the rest of your life –“

“I don’t like danishes.”

He laughs sadly and cups your face. “I know, I know, but you haven’t tried one of mine yet, remember? I’ll cookfor you, I’ll take you on picnics, just – please, please, get up. Please let me love you for the time we have left.”

As one of your coworkers had said before, Only love makes you that crazy – and that damn stupid. This apparently applies to near-death experiences as well, because you are able to pull yourself to your feet. The thought of loving you was enough to get you through the last few hubs and hallways. Steve made sure to kick Edwards on the way out, threatening him once more. He won’t die down there – he’ll die after rotting in prison, and that’s a better fate.

Steve carries most of your weight, one of your arms draped over his broad shoulders as he uses his free hand to hold the map. Every time you’d slow down or falter, Steve would promise you something else to keep you moving.

“They’re making a sequel to Back to the Future, and I’ll take you to every viewing.”

“I’ll buy a polaroid and take nice pictures of you every single day.” He pauses. “Well, try to, I don’t know much about photography.”

“I’ll buy you the coffee and pastries every Monday.”

Each promise sends a bit more energy through you. It’s not so much that you want these things to happen to badly that it keeps you going. It’s that Steve gives such a shit that he’d do these things with you. It’s that Steve loves you, and you love him, and he was right – a couple hours of love isn’t enough for you. You want more. You want the cuddles, the kisses, the fights, the sleepovers. You want it all – and that’s what keeps you going.

Steve’s talking into the walkie at certain intervals, keeping the gang updated on what’s going on. You block these intermissions out, instead focusing on how your shoes look on the tile. Before you know it, you’re pushed into an elevator, the same one you rode when you came for Steve. Your vision starts to falter now, and you hear Steve talking, but you can’t make it out.

“Almost there, we’re almost there,” he comforts. “Just a few more minutes.”

The bar is, at this point, deserted and closed down. Steve’s thankful of the absence of bodies as he exits the elevator, you gripping onto him for your life.

“Dustin, Rob, we’re out,” he breathes into the radio. “We’re –“

You decide to clock out right here. You made it – that’s all you could do. You made it out from the underground, and now you’re officially done. You give in to the comfort of unconsciousness and fall to the ground, Steve unable to catch you from how fast you moved.

Dates be damned. You’re out.

Steve drops beside you, his fingers immediately going to your wrist to check your pulse. It’s weak and slow, and he starts to lightly pat your face. “Y/N, come on, don’t do this, wake up!”

When you don’t stir, Steve goes into freak-out mode. He grabs the radio and begs for Robin, Mike, anyone to call an ambulance. His fingers don’t leave your wrist and he doesn’t leave your side for even a second. In only a few minutes, Owens and his troops appear, pushing past Steve and you on the ground and heading straight to the elevators. Joyce is with Owens, and she runs to Steve, kneeling and immediately wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

“Are you okay?” she asks, her mother reflexes kicking in. “Are – are you hurt?”

“She needs an ambulance,” Steve cries, wiping his nose with his sleeve. “Please, she needs to get to a hospital, I don’t know how much time –“

Robin and Dustin appear now, stress and worry gripping their features. They both lunge for Steve, who is now caught in a group-hug, while he holds your hand tightly. Two men with a stretcher appear next, lifting you off the ground, and Steve hugs everyone back for a split moment before running off to join you in the ambulance. He knows he shouldn’t, he knows there are questions he needs to answer, but his first priority is you, his partner, and he’s not leaving your side.

The medics ask him questions about his own state, and he gives one-word answers and shrugs. He’s fine, physically, but he’s pretty sure he will take up Owen’s standing offer for therapy after all of this. Steve doesn’t leave your side even as you arrive at the hospital, running alongside your stretcher.

A woman appears beside him, holding a clipboard. “Relation to the patient?”

Steve’s brows furrow and he quickly answers, “Relation? I – she’s my partner.”

You wake up momentarily just to hear that, and you let out an “aww” before slipping back under. Steve is stopped in front of two double doors, left with the promise that he could see you once they check your vitals and make sure you’re stabilized. He slides down the wall and sits on the cool linoleum floor, still in his authentic Russian uniform. The silence in the hall is deafening and startling for him.

He wishes he could hear your voice.

===

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