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cha-melodius · 2 years

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38 - "Everyone thinks we’re already dating, but we’re just best friends- oh wait" for napollya? if that sounds as fun to you as it does to me? :D

(It's been more than three months, but I am still writing these lol! Thank you for the prompt, anon! It just seemed ripe for an outside observer, so you get a brand new OC. It actually switches between an outsider POV and Napoleon POV, and runs just under 5k. I hope you enjoy it!)

That's What Other People Do

Read it on AO3

“McHenry! My office!” her boss calls out, his voice carrying easily across the desks that fill this corner of the Federal Building’s 14th floor.

Robin sighs and grabs her glasses from where she’d thrown them amongst the files littering her desk in a fit of pique. The summons could feasibly be about anything, but she has no doubt that Wilston wants an update on the Case From Hell. Good thing she has absolutely nothing new to report. If this goes on too much longer he’ll pull it from her, and then she’ll have to endure idiotic comments from the Andys about how it was too much for her to handle and maybe she’d like to return to the secretarial pool. Never mind that she has a PhD and didn’t come out of the secretarial pool to begin with.

Right. Just get this over with, and she can go back to pouring through shipping manifests for clues that don’t exist.

Wilston waves at her to close the door when she gets into his office, which isn’t a good sign. Then again he’s perfectly happy to chew people out at maximum volume with it open, so it’s hard to guess what might happen.

“About the Caraglio case,” he starts, predictably.

“I have a good feeling about this batch of manifests, sir,” Robin jumps in, trying to come up with a way to make a whole lot of nothing sound exciting. “There’s a company—”

“This is a lot bigger than White Collar Division,” Wilston continues, as if he hadn’t heard her at all. “I just got off the phone with UNCLE.”

“Sorry, uncle who?”

“Not a who,” he grunts. “United Network Command for Law Enforcement. Don’t worry,” he adds, with something that she’d think was humor if she didn’t know better, “I’d never heard of them until ten minutes ago. They’re a multinational intelligence agency.”

Robin blinks at him, utterly confused. “What, like Interpol?”

“To be honest with you, I was not read in to the details,” Wilston says, sounding unmistakably disgruntled about that fact. “But yes and no. They’re made up of agents with official designations from their home intelligence orgs, all working together. Apparently the most recent print that showed up has ties to a case they’ve been working.”

“So they’re taking my case? Can they do that?” Robin asks as a heavy, cold weight settles in her gut.

“No,” he answers firmly. “They want to collaborate. You’re going to be working with two of their best agents, I’m told. Agent Illya Kuryakin, KGB,”—Robin’s brain stutters to a halt at this, but her shock is somehow quickly outdone as Wilston continues—“and Agent Napoleon Solo, CIA.”

For a long moment, Robin just gapes at him, waiting for the other shoe to drop, or for Wilston to explain that it’s all a joke. Which is absurd, given her boss’s aforementioned lack of a sense of humor. “Let me get this straight: you’re trying to tell me that I’m supposed to work with an actual KGB agent and one of the most prolific art thieves in the past twenty years?”

Most people, even in White Collar Division, might not have recognized the name, but Robin is well aware of who Napoleon Solo is. How could she not, when he was the one who’d stolen the print she’d been studying in Florence, while she was in the middle of studying it? She had her own suspicions that he’s still active, even, though on a much smaller scale. She hadn’t brought it to Wilston or anyone else because she wasn’t sure yet, but she was working up to it. And now, this.

“He’s on some kind of work release with the CIA. Has been for ten years,” Wilston says dismissively, ignoring the whole KGB thing entirely.

“Last I heard we’re still in a cold war. Does Counter Intelligence know about this?”

“No. No one except you, me, and the Director. And it stays that way, is that clear? No one else can know anything about this operation. If anyone asks, you’re no longer working the case.”

“But sir—”

“Is that clear, McHenry?” he repeats forcefully.

Robin swallows hard and nods.

~~~

They find their new FBI contact chain smoking under a bridge, staring out at the Hudson.

“I think she might smoke the whole pack if we do not go soon, Cowboy,” Illya remarks, his voice pitched low.

They’ve been watching her for the last five minutes. Not because they’re worried about the meet, or intentionally trying to psych her out, but because you learn a lot watching someone who’s waiting for you. Like how Agent Robin McHenry was apparently a woman. Napoleon’s pretty sure there aren’t very many of them in the FBI’s White Collar Division, and wonders how she managed to get looped onto this case. She doesn’t look particularly young or particularly old, but it’s a little hard to tell at this distance. As they watch, she shakes another cigarette out of the pack and uses the smoldering remnants of her previous one to light it before she flicks the butt off into the river.

“Think she’s nervous?” Napoleon guesses.

Illya hums uncertainly. “Maybe. How much did they tell her about us?”

“Dunno. One way to find out, though.”

She clocks them pretty quickly as they approach, by the way her shoulders tense, though she doesn’t turn to look at them until they’re standing right next to her. Up close, her brown hair is shot through with the occasional streak of grey, but the lack of lines on her face suggests that they’re premature, and also that she doesn’t care about her appearance enough to dye it. She’s wearing a sensible, if poorly tailored, grey pants suit, which is pretty much what Napoleon would expect from a Fed.

“Agent McHenry?” he says mildly, extending a hand toward her.

McHenry stares down at it for a minute with an expression that borders on disdain, then takes another drag on her cigarette. “It’s doctor.”

“What?” “It’s Dr. McHenry,” she says. “The ‘Doctor’ supersedes ‘Agent’.”

Napoleon blinks at her. She still hasn’t taken his hand, so he drops it and tucks it into his pocket. “Ok,” he replies gamely. “Well, Dr. McHenry, this is Agent Kuryakin, and I’m Agent—”

“I know who you are,” she interrupts. “Quite familiar with your mug shot.”

“Ah,” Napoleon says, his smile going tight.

“You stole a Marcantonio print I was studying.”

“Sorry?” “In Florence. 1953,” she explains. She briefly stares at the shrinking butt of her cigarette as if trying to decide whether to light another. “I was analyzing it for my research, and overnight it disappeared. That theft was attributed to you. You stole it.”

Napoleon remembers that job. It had been a pretty easy one; the archive’s security had been next to nonexistent. He’d stolen some other stuff too, made a tidy sum, then had thoroughly enjoyed himself on the Amalfi coast for a month. He clears his throat and carefully replies, “Allegedly. That was never proven. But if I had stolen it, and that disrupted your studies, then I would be sorry about that. Hypothetically, that is.”

McHenry snorts in what almost seems to be amusement, then turns her piercing gaze on Illya, who’s been watching the whole exchange. Napoleon can see that he’s certainly amused, and will no doubt be giving Napoleon endless shit about it later, though to anyone else his face looks as stony as ever.

“You’re actually a KGB agent,” McHenry prompts, not quite a question, as she squints up at him.

Illya quirks an eyebrow at her. “Last time I checked.”

“How do I know this isn’t part of some elaborate plot to infiltrate the FBI?”

“If I wanted to infiltrate FBI, I would not start with White Collar,” Illya returns coolly, which is probably not the best tack to take. Napoleon watches as McHenry’s lips narrow into a hard line.

“What Peril here means to say is that we’ve no interest in the FBI, specifically. We may officially be KGB and CIA, but our mandate and orders come from UNCLE, which has no interest in governments squabbling with each other,” Napoleon tells her. “We’ve been partners for the past two years. Surely that must mean something.”

“This, coming from a convicted art thief,” she says, clearly unconvinced, but now eyeing them with some other evaluating look that he can’t quite interpret.

Not for the first time, Napoleon wishes Gaby was around for this one. Something tells him that their third partner would have a better chance of gaining the trust of the FBI agent, but she’d gone off to London following a tenuous but time-sensitive lead on a different case, so they’d have to get by without her.

“Look, you’re obviously a deeply mistrustful person, and I respect that,” Napoleon sighs. “But can we please move past this and get to the saving the world part? Those missile plans aren’t going to find themselves.”

That, at least, breaks through the defensive exterior; McHenry’s eyes go wide and her mouth falls open for a moment before she tries to collect herself. “What do you mean, missile plans?”

~~~

Solo and Kuryakin aren’t anything like she expected.

On the surface, the two of them seem like they’d never work as partners, beyond the obvious problem that they’re supposed to be on different sides of the Cold War. Solo talks, a lot, all smooth charm and winning smiles. She can see why it took the authorities so long to nail him down, because the man can probably talk his way out of nearly anything. Kuryakin, though, is the icy, silent type, at least at first. Not that he ever really relaxes fully, but after a couple of days his constant guard lowers a bit. Still, she’s not sure she’d have ever come around to trusting him if she hadn’t seen him when he’s around Solo.

Two days after their first contact by the river, Robin is supposed to meet them at a diner in Hoboken. Why here, she has no idea, and she doesn’t ask. She’s quickly learned that, although they’re pretty open when it comes to the case itself, any other questions about UNCLE or their histories is shut down quickly. When she arrives, she’s surprised to see Kuryakin sitting alone in a booth and no sign of Solo anywhere nearby. He looks up as she slides in opposite him and offers a nod of acknowledgement, but nothing else.

“Where’s Solo?” she asks, grabbing the menu just for something to do. She doesn’t assume they’re actually eating.

“Late,” Kuryakin grunts, somehow encapsulating fondness and exasperation in the single syllable. It’s a tone she’s become familiar with over the past two days.

A waitress stops by, and Kuryakin surprises her again by ordering the almost painfully American combination of a cheeseburger, fries, and a strawberry milkshake. She hasn’t actually looked at the menu, but she stammers out an order for a tuna melt and a coke, and wonders what the hell is actually going on today.

Solo, it turns out, is very late, but Kuryakin gives her an update on their progress; they’d checked out several of the shipping companies she’d suspected of being the transport for the forged—and apparently secretly encoded—Caraglio prints, though without much success. The CIA agent still hasn’t arrived by the time their food does, and after hesitating a moment Robin digs in, because she’s actually pretty hungry. For his part, Kuryakin eats a few fries and drinks the milkshake, but the burger remains untouched.

The answer to that puzzle comes a few minutes later, when Solo finally slides into the booth next to him. Kuryakin wordlessly pushes the plate of food over to him, and Solo grabs the burger with no shortage of enthusiasm.

“You know me so well, Peril,” Solo says to him before taking a huge bite. He briefly looks, somewhat bizarrely, like a chipmunk.

“I know you are somehow always hungry,” Kuryakin returns. “And you get as excited about greasy diner food as gourmet restaurant.”

Solo swallows and grins broadly. “Sometimes there’s nothing better than greasy diner food. If I’m gonna have to go to Jersey for this mission, I might as well indulge. Gimme some of your milkshake, would you?”

Kuryakin lets out a put-upon sigh, but his mouth is unmistakably tugging up at the corners as he slides the half empty glass over toward his partner.

Robin chews slowly as she watches them continue to banter about the food as if she wasn’t there at all. Kuryakin stretches an arm out along the back of the booth behind Solo’s shoulders, and when Solo finally polishes off the burger he settles back against it, almost but not quite tucked against Kuryakin’s side, looking immensely satisfied.

“So did Peril bring you up to speed?” Solo asks her eventually, his eyebrows arcing upward with the question. It had taken her a bit to get used to the cutesy nicknames, but by now she can actually keep a straight face when Kuryakin calls him ‘Cowboy.’

“Yeah,” she answers with a bob of her head. “Sounds like not much has panned out, though?”

“That’s not entirely true anymore,” Solo says with a sly grin.

Kuryakin frowns. “What have you done, Cowboy?”

“I met up with an old contact of mine. That’s why I was late. Skittish guy. But if someone was going to know where the counterfeit Caraglios were coming in from, it would be him.”

“You went to a meeting without telling anyone?” Kuryakin hisses, his frown somehow getting even deeper.

“I was fine,” Solo insists. “I didn’t say anything because I knew you’d just overreact. Like you’re doing now. You worry too much, Peril.”

“I do not—”

“You got something from him, though?” Robin jumps in, before they can get any farther. “A lead?”

“I did,” Solo confirms, sitting forward again.

He quickly runs through what he’d learned, his words rapid with excitement at the—admittedly substantial—lead, and even Kuryakin eventually gets over his disgruntlement as they start talking about the next steps. For the first time in weeks, Robin feels like this case actually getting somewhere, which she has to reluctantly admit is down in large part to the fact that she’s working with an art thief. Her PhD advisor would have a heart attack if he knew, but they wouldn’t have gotten that lead without Solo’s contact.

The conversation falls into a lull as the waitress stops by with coffee, which Solo gratefully accepts before pointing back at Kuryakin and adding, “Oh, and he’ll have a slice of apple pie.”

“Cowboy—” he starts to protest.

“A la mode,” Solo finishes with a grin, ignoring him.

“You did not have to do that,” Kuryakin grumbles as she walks away.

Solo just grabs his cup of coffee and settles back against Kuryakin’s arm again, and this time Kuryakin’s hand slides onto his shoulder. It’s not that unusual a sight, really; she’s noticed that Kuryakin is fairly handsy around him. Nothing too overt, but here and there a hand pressed to Solo’s lower back, or resting on his knee. The kind of casual affection that makes her want to warn them to be more careful, which is stupid. Obviously they know better than anyone the danger of what they have. How could they not?

“But Peril,” Napoleon is saying, a teasing lilt to his words, “I consider it my solemn duty to make sure you’re hopelessly addicted to this disgustingly extravagant American lifestyle, so that you’d never dream of leaving us. Ordering you delicious pie is a burden, to be sure, but one I will happily bear.”

Robin can’t help but think, based on the impossibly soft way that Kuryakin is currently looking at him, that Solo doesn’t really need to try that hard.

~~~

Like these things so often do, once they have a substantial lead, the rest falls together pretty quickly. The tip from his contact had paid off, and if everything went well they’d soon be taking possession of the last of the forged Caraglio prints. The shipment isn’t due to arrive for another hour, but they still need to be watching in case something changes. The waiting around part of this job, Napoleon thinks, never gets any more fun.

They’ve already been there for several hours—Napoleon and Robin in a nondescript sedan while Illya is perched in a sniper’s nest on the top floor of a nearby building—so they’re starting to run out of conversational topics. It had been surprisingly easy to talk to Robin; once she’d gotten over the whole art thief thing, they had a decent amount in common. Napoleon’s pretty sure he’s never been able to have that in-depth of a discussion of early Italian Renaissance printmaking techniques with anyone, though that shouldn’t really be a surprise given her background. It was funny to think about how he’d very nearly run into her in Florence, all those years before, and how their paths had brought them here. He’d even ended up telling her about getting caught, and how he ended up working for the CIA.

“God, I’d love to convince you to switch to the FBI,” she sighs. “Someone with your expertise would be invaluable in White Collar Division.”

Napoleon laughs softly at that. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I think it’d be a cold day in Hell before art crimes would consider making a full agent of an art thief. Besides,” he adds as his gaze sweeps out the window to the building where he knows Illya sits, “I’m pretty happy where I am.”

He can feel Robin watching him, but he can’t quite pull his eyes away. Illya is probably up there in that weird meditative state he gets into, where he can just sit for hours and do nothing and not go insane out of boredom.

“How long have you been together?” she asks after a stretch of silence.

“Oh, like I said, UNCLE’s been around for about two years now…” he starts, not really paying attention.

“No, I mean, like, the two of you. Together. Since the beginning?”

Napoleon’s face snaps toward her, then, and he can feel his jaw fall open but he can’t really seem to close it. “We’re not— that is— we’re not,” he manages eventually. “We’re just partners. Work partners. Best friends, now, I guess.”

“You guess?” Robin echoes, her brow creasing in confusion.

“Yeah, yeah. Yes,” Napoleon confirms, perhaps a little too vehemently. “He’s my best friend. That’s all.”

“Oh.”

“‘Oh’?” he repeats. “What, ‘oh’? What does that mean?”

“Nothing, nothing,” she says, putting up a hand. “I misread things.”

“Right, well, I can be pretty affectionate with my friends, is all,” Napoleon blurts, and Christ why does he not shut up? Clearly she was going to let the matter go, but now he’s thinking about it—that deep well of feelings that he works so hard to ignore—and if she’d seen it on his face in knowing him less than a week, then… then that could be a problem.

Except then she shrugs and says, “Not just you.”

“What?” he croaks, his voice just barely above a whisper.

But she doesn’t say anything more, not immediately, just stares out the windshield with a frown on her face until finally she rounds on him. “Do you know, I actually wanted to warn you?” she says, nonsensically. “That day in the diner. I thought, ‘man, they should really be more careful.’ But I decided that saying something would be stupid, because you must know what you’re doing. You’d have to be idiots not to, and you clearly aren’t idiots.”

“Thanks?” he manages, more than a little flabbergasted.

“I’m revising that assessment,” she returns dryly. “Seriously, no one you work with has said anything to you about this?”

Napoleon doesn’t entirely know how to answer that, so he shrugs. “They’re used to it, I guess. It’s just how we are.”

“Jesus,” she swears under her breath.

“Look, as you yourself pointed out, relationships like that are dangerous, especially in our jobs, so—”

“The thing is,” she interrupts, “that dangerous part is already out there. The part where you look at each other like the other one hung the fucking moon? Like you’re very deeply in love? I hate to break it to you, but that one’s already escaped from Pandora’s Box. So if you’re holding yourselves back from being together because you’re worried about the danger, let me be the first to tell you that that ship has sailed. I see it, your enemies are gonna see it, and I guarantee you that your colleagues see it too, they’re just too polite to say anything.”

“You haven’t met our friend Gaby,” Napoleon counters, and that thought is oddly comforting. They’ve been working together for two years now, and there’s no way Gaby would have resisted giving them shit about it if there was anything actually to tease them about. “I guess I can appreciate the concern,” he continues, “but I can also guarantee you that whatever you think you’re seeing isn’t really there. Yes, we’re close. Which is why I’m certain that there’s absolutely no way that Illya feels that way about me.”

He realizes too late what he just implicitly confessed in using Illya’s lack of feelings as an excuse instead of his own, and clenches his jaw as he very resolutely does not meet Robin’s eyes. Fine, it’s fine. It doesn’t matter if she knows, because this case is almost over and it’s unlikely that they’ll have reason to work with the FBI again.

“Or you could kiss him and find out for sure,” Robin murmurs next to him, and when Napoleon gives in and looks over at her she’s staring out the windshield with a smirk on her face. Then she shrugs. “Just a suggestion. Oh, I think our shipment’s here.”

Napoleon thinks he’s never been happier to walk headfirst into potentially life-threatening situation, so long as it gets him out of this conversation.

The final bust goes off without a hitch. They seize the fake prints—and the last of the missile plans encoded therein—before the men at the handoff hardly know what is happening. Taking the shadowy organization ultimately behind the whole setup is a much, much larger, ongoing operation, but for now, UNCLE is happy that no one’s getting next-gen weapons plans, and the FBI White Collar Division is happy that very high quality forgeries are off the market. It’s a win all around.

Napoleon is also able to completely, blissfully forget about the conversation in the sedan for nearly a full day, what with all the wrapping up loose ends and paperwork to keep him busy. It’s not until the next evening, when Illya automatically shows up at his place for dinner even though neither of them mentioned such a thing at any point, that Robin’s words come slamming back into his head.

Having let himself into Napoleon’s apartment with the key he’s had ever since Napoleon complained about him always picking the lock—so, less than a month into their partnership—Illya finds him in the kitchen chopping up vegetables. He’s already discarded his jacket and brought a tumbler with him along with the decanter of Scotch from the bar in the other room, and he tops up Napoleon’s own dwindling glass before pouring his own. It’s not a surprise that he then steps close, his body only inches from Napoleon’s as he peers idly down at what Napoleon is doing, nor that the hand that’s not holding his drink ends up resting almost possessively on Napoleon’s hip. It’s not unusual, which should say something right there, but for the first time Napoleon lets himself consider all of it and what it might mean.

Illya is talking about something to do with a mission—Napoleon hadn’t really been listening, honestly—when Napoleon sets his knife down and turns slightly to better face him. Illya’s hand falls away from his hip as he moves, which he immediately regrets before he reminds himself that he really, really shouldn’t.

“Peril, what are we doing?”

Illya frowns, his brow furrowing as he stares down at him. “Having… dinner?” he ventures.

“I mean what is this?” Napoleon says, making a small gesture between them. Not that he has much room to do so, because Illya is still standing so damned close.

“I am not following, Cowboy. How much have you had to drink?” Illya asks, a teasing smirk playing on his lips.

Napoleon huffs. “Not nearly enough for this conversation,” he mutters under his breath before looking back up at Illya. “It’s just something Robin said. She thought we were… together. A couple.”

Illya freezes, an expression on his face like he just got caught, which is… really something. Napoleon’s heart is pretty much thundering in his chest right now, and he feels stretched to a breaking point, torn between his considerable ability to read people and what he was so sure he knew about his partner.

“That is…” Illya starts. Napoleon waits for him to say something like ridiculous. Absurd. The most idiotic idea he’s ever heard. Instead, Illya forces a tight smile and doesn’t finish the sentence. “Did— did she say why?”

“Something about the way we look at each other,” Napoleon answers. For some reason, the more flustered Illya gets, the more clear-headed he feels. He carefully slips a hand onto Illya’s waist, waiting for Illya to flinch or pull away, but it doesn’t come. “I told her she was seeing things, but now I’m not so sure. So I thought I’d get your perspective on the matter.”

The tips of Illya’s ears are red, and there is a steady flush climbing up his neck. “Cowboy, I—”

Napoleon decides he’s heard enough. He closes the narrow gap between them, reaching up to press their mouths together, and Illya immediately surges against him. What starts out as a gentle movement of lips rapidly deepens into something involving tongues and teeth when Illya’s other hand comes up to cup his jaw, tipping his head to better fit their mouths together. Napoleon feels consumed by it, on fire, like everything that had built between them over the past two years was so much tinder that someone had casually tossed a lit match into. The hand is back on his hip, gripping tightly as Illya tries to tug him even closer, and Napoleon’s fingers dig into the softness of Illya’s waist in response, dragging a low moan from his partner’s throat.

“I think she’s onto something,” Napoleon gasps when they finally part, unable to keep himself from grinning like an idiot. “Or did you have something else you wanted to add?”

“Shut up, Cowboy,” Illya growls, then captures his mouth in another kiss.

They don’t get around to dinner until much, much later.

~~~

Robin has to admit that after all of the excitement in the past week, the day-to-day at White Collar leaves something to be desired. At least with the Caraglio case she always had something big to work on, but now that it’s closed she’s stuck with check fraud and some idiot who tried to forge a shitload of buffalo nickels as if that would actually net him a profit.

Then, one day she comes in and there’s large, flat folio sitting on her desk. She looks around, but everyone is apparently absorbed in their work for once. It’s possible that it’s related to some kind of new case, but that seems highly unlikely. Evidence doesn’t just get deposited in their laps.

“Cartwright,” she calls, drawing the attention of the idiot at the next desk. “What is this?”

“Fuck if I know,” Cartwright grunts. “It was there when I came in. You get a secret admirer in all that time off, McHenry?”

Robin narrowly resists telling him to fuck off. Not being able to tell anyone that she helped avert an international crisis sucks. She looks back down at the folio, taking in the high quality leather and the fine stitching. It’s nice. Much nicer than what she usually sees around the division. As she turns it over, she notices a card tucked into a small pocket and fishes it out, turning it over to find a short handwritten note on one side.

R, Took your suggestion. Thought you might appreciate this small token of my gratitude. If you ever get tired of catching art thieves and decide you want to work with one instead, UNCLE is always recruiting. NS

She frowns down at the note for a minute. She doesn’t even remember what she might have suggested to Napoleon Solo, or why he’d be grateful for it. But honestly, it’s the second part of the note that has her baffled. Her, work for UNCLE? Honestly, it’s not the worst idea she’s heard, not by a long shot. It’s more surprising that they’d be interested in her; they’re all spies, and she’s just an art historian with a badge.

Her thoughts are still on the note as she tugs at the ties holding the folio closed, so it takes her a moment to realize what she’s looking at.

She blinks. Takes off her glasses to rub her eyes. Puts them back on and blinks again.

“Holy shit,” she blurts.

Within the leather folio, carefully wrapped in delicate paper, is the very Marcantonio print that disappeared during her studies, all those years ago.

#napollya #napoleon x illya #napoleon solo #illya kuryakin #tmfu #the man from u.n.c.l.e.#the man from uncle #tmfu fic #napollya fic #my fic

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endlesssadness · 1 year

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I'm 27 and stil don't really understand the relationship with my parents. I still have the feeling "when will I be an adult?" but the real question is "when did I stop being a child?". I know I was 11 and was tied up to this stupid hospital bed begging my mom to end my life because of the pain I felt in my hips. While my brother grow higher and getting skinnier I grow higher and bigger. When I was in the hospital at 11 a doctor told to my mom she should give me 1 apple and 1 joghurt a day and I will start losing weight. I was 11! My mom still shakes her head over the words of the doctor but I'm sure she thought about to try it. Every summer I cried and hide my belly in big hoodies and all my mom and dad is telling me I need to stop eating and losing weight. Goddam I was still a child. My brother never needed to do something he doesn't want to. But I had to go to "fat-camps" and talking with strangers from the health insurance about my eating habits. "Food need to be less important for her" she said to my mom. Since I can think back is food the most important thing in my life. Always hungry. Never enough to feel full. Always feeling shitty after eating something unhealthy. When I was 19 the doctors finally had a answer for my uncontrolled weight gain. PCOS. That bitch. "Lose weight" they said after I tried 3 times taking hormones and ended up every time in the ER because of excessive bleeding. My fucking ex showed me how to starve and I lost 40kg in 5 month. He controlled every single bite I took and got me from one ED to another ED. But that's a whole other story. Of course my parents where so proud of me because I became smaller and smaller. But than they needed to pay for the therapist because I was close to go super crazy. After leaving my ex I was completly lost. How should I eat now? My therapist told me first care about your mental health. And with my new bf I started to enjoy food again. I gained 15kg back but still hate every kilo. Before the 15kg I was still overweight and now I'm stuck. I'm starving and binge but my parents still applause when I look little bit smaller that 2 weeks ago. I always thought my parents and I having a good relationship but everything I did, every problem I had I faced it alone. They never helped me. I always felt awkward for who I am. Mom asked me some weeks ago why she shouldn't take me to the ER when I was bleeding so much back in the days. I asked my best friend to bring me and pick me up after the operation. Mom, because you never accepted me for who I was. And still I can't say the truth to you because you will never understand it from my point of the view. You were never the mom I needed and deserved. I'm still struggling to allow feelings. When I start to feel happy I shut myself down the next second. YOU and dad never showed me to accept myself bc you didn't accept me for who I was. When I was 15-16 years I walked down the stairs and the family computer was on. Google was open and the search bar said "help my daughter keep gaining weight". HELP??? WTF HELP?????? You needed help??? I was so shocked I pretended nothing happend like always. My mask, my acting was so perfect that both of you were so shocked and surprised when I told you after 9 years that I'm so depressed I was close end my life before I went abroad for 3 month. When I was a child I was so so shy. I always hide behind my parents legs and when I visit friends, even as a teen, I couldn't barely saying "hello" to their parents when I met them. My mom and dad always forced me to play with stranger children but I don't wanted and I just felt so uncomfortable. "Be like her, act like him, just go and say hello, ask if they want to play with you, just be nice,..." I WAS NEVER THE CHILD YOU WANTED. I still try to accept this and I still try to understand why my parents did this all. Why I needed to grow up so fast. Why?

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thirstystarkey · 4 years

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BROKEN • JJ MAYBANK

Prompt: Y/N tries to run away from Outer Banks after feeling like no one cares about her and JJ stops her with a shocking confession.

A/N: no asked for this but the last couple of days have been a bit hard so i felt the urge to write my feelings out.

ONE thing Y/N had learn from a very young age was that no matter what the sun would still shine bright the next day no matter how ugly things got, it was like a play and everyone on earth played imperfect flawed characters which obligated the young woman to fake a smile every time people questioned how she was, but no one knew how she truly felt inside, no one was able to see through the fake laughs how much pain she held within her soul. Y/N felt like a side character in her own life, of course she had friends but they had their own lifes and struggles. She didn’t want to be the sad friend nor she wanted a pity party for her broken heart. So she faked and faked until there was nothing but warm smiles.

Outer Banks started to feel like an ugly prison to Y/N, she felt suffocated in her own home haunted by mean thoughts about her who led her into bad habits, like if she didn’t eat maybe she would finally disappear into thin air. The anxiety unbearable to withstand, the pain in her chest stinging like a broken bone or a gun shot.

Eventually Y/N kept her distance from everyone, even her friends who were too busy chasing the lost gold. That’s when she got the sad realization of how alone she truly was, no messages no calls and no invitations besides JJ’s strunbon attempts in getting her out of her room. It got to a point where if she didn’t made the smallest effort no one came to her, so she spend her days alone. Sometimes roaming in the sand sometimes crying alone in her room while her parents fought. Y/N felt trapped in her own life, like she was watching from above.

She had hit the point of no return, that’s when she decided to pack a small backpack with some clothes and her money with the mission to leave Outer Banks and her life behind, to finally break free from her chains. Her eyes full with tears during the whole process.

Her heart was tired from suffering, she felt like truly no one cared and the ugly truth about broken hearts is that no matter how she tried to fit the pieces back together they would never fit like they once did. Y/N accepted that but still she couldn’t help herself but to wish someone came to stop her, to hug her tightly, she missed it so much. Deep down that someone she wished was JJ.

The sun began to set once she arrived to the train station, the calm melody of Dream a Little Dream of Me filled her ears with nostalgia of moments that never happen, like memories from a past life, stil it warmed her a little more than her coat.

Time seemed to pass slower and slower in the empty station, so she grabbed her journal to write something, trying to distract her mind for a couple of minutes until it was time to leave for good.

“Today my forest is dark. The trees are sad, the birds don’t sing or fly and all the butterflies have broken wings yet here I stan with a shatter invisible heart that no one sees.”

Rising up from her seat she stood on her weak knees, slowly walking to the upcoming train, backpack on her back where she carried all her past to her new beginning not sure if she wanted to in the first place. That’s when she felt it. A slight yet warm tug on her wrist pulled Y/N back making her turn to see who was, surprised to see JJ stand in front of her eyes with a tiny shin of sweat in his forehead and rosy cheeks, his mouth apart out of breath and tears threatening to fall from his ocean eyes.

“Don’t go, please Y/N, don’t go.” JJ begged walking backwards with her.

“What are you doing here JJ?” She asked.

“I came to look for you, I looked everywhere, I ran here once I realized you were no where to be found.” He explained.

“I’m going JJ.” Y/N voice came shaky and unsure.

“You can’t...” He blabbed. “You can’t leave.” He said sure. “You can’t leave me Y/N.”

“It’s not like you care JJ, you’ll be perfectly fine without me once you find the gold and move to Yucatán.” Y/N tried to sound confident but she was far from meaning the words that came out of her mouth.

“That’s a lie.” JJ laughed briefly. “I don’t give a fuck about the gold if you aren’t there.” He admited for the first time making her mouth fall. “I can’t do this without you Y/N.” JJ stepped closer to her. “So please don’t you.” He grabbed her shaky hands. “Or at least don’t go without me.” He added.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean JJ, words can be dangerous.” Y/N warned looking straight into his eyes.

“I mean every single word I said.” JJ stated. “If you step a foot in that train I’m going after you.”

“You can’t.” Y/N said breaking the eye contact.

“I don’t even care where we are going, but you won’t go alone.” He laughed. “Where will this ticket take you young lady?” JJ asked pointing to Y/N’s ticket.

“I have no idea, I asked for the further possible.” Y/N laughed softly looking down.

JJ got interrupted by the loud noise of the train and all the rushing people trying to get a seat by the window. Y/N wiped her tears quickly and once a again she tried to leave, even if the destiny offered her what she wanted. Someone to come to her.

“Y/N!” JJ screamed at the top of his lungs. “I’m not fucking joking, don’t go.” He said feeling his throat burn and Y/N turned once again to him.

“Why do you care all of a sudden?” She screamed back crying.

“Fuck this.” He said pushing her to him, making her backpack fall in the ground. His arms wrapped around her like a safety blanket, creating a aura of protection around her. “I’ve always cared Y/N.” He whispered feeling his eyes water. “I care because I love you and you can’t leave me here alone without you, I’ll go whatever place you go because I fucking love you.” JJ finally broke down the courage to admit his feelings.

Y/N was left without words, it felt like her voice was long gone and the only thing she could do was to hang tightly to JJ’s torso crying out in his shoulder.

“JJ.” Y/N whispered after a few minutes. The train long gone and all the people who came to catch it leaving the pair alone. “I love you too.” She said softly in a sweet voice, it felt like a song to him.

#obx #outer banks #jj maybank #jj #rudy #rudy pankow #jj x reader #jj x y/n #jj smut #jj maybank angst #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank smut #pogues #the pogues #pogue style

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milstrim · 3 years

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The Wound Won’t Sew Itself

Penny Parker was afraid of abandonment.

That was a fact. It had stemmed from an early childhood loss and only heightened to an extreme after her uncle had bled out from a gunshot wound in front of her. It made her nervous, a lot. Her aunt and friends knew, and would often not mention it when she curled a finger into their belt loops or entwined her fingers with theirs. Every once in a while, they'd offer their hands too, allowing for her to attach and not make her feel weird about it. It was a gift, she'd decided, to have a family that anticipated for her.

Problems arose when Mr. Stark started to become part of that family.

Mr. Stark wasn't mean, but she knew their relationship was rather precarious. One wrong move and she was sure that he'd take the suit and cast her out, leaving her without her mentor and the man that had slowly become...like a father? He was like her uncle, but not. No one could replace Ben, but Tony had taken up a space in her heart she hadn't known was empty until he came along.

So when she felt nervous, Penny instead shoved her hands into her pockets, or bundled them up into her sweaters, refusing to even mention her discomfort or her fears to her mentor. She'd only been going up to the compound to work with him on the suit for a few months ever since the whole Homecoming incident, and losing him was terrifying beyond belief. It kept her up at night on bad days, the unthinkable nightmare of him dying or casting her out. Thus, she kept to herself, she made sure she was the perfect intern and mentee, quiet but enthusiastic when necessary and with no mental health problems at all.

When she arrived at the compound for her internship that Friday afternoon, waving goodbye to Happy and stepping into the elevator that took her up to Mr. Stark's lab, she flinched at the shiver that ran up her spine. Penny glanced around the lab as the doors opened for her, squinting nervously through the glass entrance to the high tech room, the dread attacking her gut and stuck in her throat only growing stronger.

Mr. Stark wasn't hunched over at his desk, or dancing around trying to keep up with the speed of his own ideas, a broad smile on his face whenever he turned around to greet her like he usually was. Instead, he stood ramrod straight, staring intently at a small hologram in front of him that she couldn't see the contents of. She thought she saw a glimpse of her face.

Penny pressed her hand on the scanner to the door, flinching back when it beeped a harsh red instead of its usual welcoming blue. The noise caught Mr. Stark's attention, who swirled around at the noise, throwing the hologram to the side defensively. Penny found herself rooted in place from his intense stare, another tremor racking her body, ending at a pounding thrum at the base of her skull.

"I, uh--hey, Mr. Stark!" she greeted, waving nervously from behind the door, "The uh--sorry--the door didn't let me in. I didn't mean to disturb you."

Mr. Stark stared at her for a moment longer, trancelike, before he seemingly snapped out of being a robot and walked over. But he still wasn't...Mr. Stark. He was too quiet. Immediately nausea churned in her stomach at the off glint in his eyes. Had she done something wrong? She didn't think she had. She'd been so careful! She hadn't disturbed him or Happy as much, she hadn't done anything too crazy, she'd even stuck to curfew!

...Most of the time.

Her good behavior didn't stop her from feeling like she was about to puke out her entire soul as Mr. Stark spoke, opening the door.

"It was supposed to do that," he said.

Penny shuffled nervously, shoving her hand in her hoodie pockets, "Do--do what, Mr. Stark?"

"Not let you in."

"What--why?"

"Because I don't want you here." She flinched. Her face heated up as tears swelled in her eyes, her mouth falling open in shock, "I guess I forgot to give Happy the memo, so let me remedy that here. I. Don't. Want you here. Plain and simple. I expected more from you by now. I offered for you to be an Avenger, and you're still saving cats from trees, or helping little old ladies across the street."

Penny took a halting step back, shocked. She stared up at her mentor. She'd never seen him like this, even during the Ferry, he'd said he expected more than too, and if she hadn't been as hurt as she was, maybe she would've thought about Mr. Stark's sudden 180 about her skills. About her. But as it was, she was just sad, and scared. Her worst fears coming true and bursting forth.

"I'm--I'm sorry," she stuttered.

"Sorry isn't good enough," he bit, holding out an expectant hand, "Give me your bag."

"What?"

"We tried this, it didn't work out. Sorry not sorry, give me the bag."

Working on autopilot, she did. He ripped it open, tearing out her suit, the red and blue sticking out painfully against the background of his dark gray blazer. She let out a cry of protest as he took, but he didn't respond other than throwing the bag roughly into her hands.

"I'll be taking this, since you're clearly not worthy of it," he said. She stared at him, unable to stop the tears that escaped down her cheeks. Wrong move. "What are you still doing here? The transaction is over. Get out of here. Go! And don't try to contact me again. Don't even call Happy."

Penny swallowed, stepping away hesitantly, as if this was all a cruel joke and someone was going to jump out and yell 'Surprise!!' But this was real life, and Mr. Stark had really told her to leave. He'd taken the suit back and...and everything.

"Yes, sir..."

She left.

Penny cried a lot that night.

May was covering a shift at the hospital, having expected for her to be at Mr. Stark's until late, so Penny came home to her dark apartment seeping with the December chill of New York. All the shock came rushing forward. All the pain.

She dropped her bag the moment the door clicked shut behind her, choking on a confused sob. She ran her hands through her hair, pulling too roughly at her curls and sliding down on the door. She mumbled through thick tears, "What did I do? What did I do? What did I do?"

There was no answer to her question. No way of knowing. There was no one to answer, no one but her own fear.

She hadn't been enough, she concluded, and really, why had she ever thought she could be? Her former mentor was Tony Stark! Iron Man. A superhero who'd escaped terrorists with nothing but scraps and wits. And what was she? A science experiment. A poor kid from Queens who could barely hold her own in a fight even with superpowers practically just gifted to her. She could barely take down bank robbers.

Mr. Stark's words hurt, but they were right. She wasn't worthy to be his mentee.

But it still hurt.

Confident that May wouldn't be home until late, she allowed herself to stay a crying heap on the floor. She didn't move for an hour, crying herself dry, gasping for seething air that refused to come, blocked by the lump in her throat. She dug her nails into her palms, leaving little crescents of blood. She bit her lip in an attempt to stave her pitiful cries, a trail of blood following.

By the time she picked herself off the floor, the city was dark.

Weeks passed by, and Penny heard nothing from Mr. Stark or Happy. Stupidly, she'd stare at her phone, anxiously waiting for hours on end. Maybe an apology, or just an assurance that she wasn't a screwup. Something. But of course, nothing ever came.

Penny didn't retell the exact events of what had happened to anyone, but she'd proclaimed to her friends that she no longer had the internship--much to Flash's great delight, and even she had to admit how much like a lie all of it sounded--and refused to delve into the details. Telling May had been a bit more difficult. A teary eyed afternoon in which Penny had said that Mr. Stark thought that she wasn't right for the superhero role and had taken the suit back. The woman had been furious and had attempted to call Tony, but found little success other than an automated voicemail.

They'd spent the whole night watching romcoms and planning how to make Penny her own homemade suit. Not as good as the Starksuit, but still a hell of a lot better than her old one. It didn't have Karen, and it definitely didn't look as cool, but Penny had outfitted it with her own tech that helped her senses and webshooters that did their job. She refused to stop trying to help the community. Not even Tony Stark could put her off from it.

The Daily Bugle didn't like her new suit, tearing her down for it despite having criticized her for 'mooching off of Iron Man' a couple months prior, but it was whatever. Life was...life was okay.

Her nerves had only shot higher than before, and the teenager often found herself texting her friends and aunt at odd times to make sure they were okay, grabbing onto Ned's hand between every class that she could, and even slipping into bed with May every once in a while. She felt horribly clingy and unworthy of their time and patience, so many nights filled with laying in bed and staring out the window, unable to stop envisioning May telling her what Mr. Stark had. Ned leaving. MJ abandoning her.

Sometimes eating felt like too much. By the time Christmas had come and gone, she'd gained as much bags under her eyes as she had lost weight. Exhausted and fatigued all the way down to the bone wasn't enough to describe how she felt. How on edge and worried she constantly was. But at least she was still Spider-Woman. At least she still got to help people, to save them. With or without Mr. Stark. Even if it hurt.

Penny let out a sigh that billowed out in front of her on the cold January air, rubbing on her arm as she tried to block out the cold. She hadn't managed to give her suit a heater in a cost effective way. Her eyes still narrowed with her though, which had honestly been her favorite part of the suit.

The vigilante had been patrolling for most of the day now--eating from street vendors and unfortunately going to the bathroom in porta-potties--since school was still out. Until tomorrow anyway. Oh the woes of waking up early once again and having to face Flash and his unending taunting. She was ready to see Ned again, and maybe chemistry class would distract her from Mr. Stark.

She shook her head, scolding herself. She was doing it again. Thinking about the man she'd thought as a father figure. No matter how hard she tried, his words always came back to bite her in the middle of the night. In the middle of a panic. And even while she sat atop a building while snow sprinkled down around her.

With a worn sigh, the girl leaped and began to swing her way back to her apartment, which was sure to be a while away since she was at the edge of the city. Well, first she had to stop to get her bag (and pray that it was still there) and then she'd head home. Maybe make some hot chocolate. It was freezing.

Spider-Woman swung for only before a few minutes before a chill ran up her spine, and not from the cold. She spun in midair, grabbing onto an outstretched flagpole of the building her senses directed her to and planting herself nimbly on top. She listened.

"--verything's going fine, I suppose. Crushing the brat didn't completely get rid of her though. I thought she cared about what you said, Stark."

"Don't you dare talk about her," snarled a familiar voice. Penny flinched at Mr. Stark's tone, narrowing her eyes and beginning to creep around the building. The windows were boarded up over broken glass, but the warm yellow light still slipped through the cracks. She continued to listen as she tried to find a better spot to perch.

"I could've been a lot worse, you know. Be thankful I just made her think you hated her and thought everything terrible about her to make her feel like shit instead of just killing her. Though that would've made quite the fuss. Too much to clean up, don't you think?" the voice asked, rich and smooth and terrible. It sent shivers down her spine. She finally came across a window with a large enough gap for her to slip through and cling onto the rafters in the ceiling, unnoticed, "Though nothing's impossible. It might be a good reminder for you to not try and break your chip again, hmm? Your lovely fiancee might be next."

Penny stifled a gasp as she surveyed the room. Mr. Stark was strapped up against the wall, his hands cuffed tightly. A bruise bloomed against the right side of his face, leaching over his nose and covering his eyes in a sickly blue. His face was tightened in anger, defiance evident in every part of his body. From his eyes, bright yet dark at the same time, a stoked fire ready to burn, to his hands, cuffed and restrained, but curled in anger, shaking with either the force of straining or the force of his will to break free.

The Iron Man suit sat idle in the corner of the room, its eyes deactivated and its posture slumped. It looked strangely dead. A strange descriptor of something that had never truly been alive. She had to hold back panic at the realization that it wasn't going to save Mr. Stark, probably having been deactivated or hacked. What were these people going to do with it? Not that they looked particularly threatening.

The host of people appeared as though they belonged at a PTA meeting instead of a kidnapping. There was a short balding man with a friendly looking mustache. A woman with a chopped bob, short and stout and wearing a flowery blouse. Two tall and thin people that were so painfully average in their completely beige clothes she had to blink in confusion. This did not look like a group of supervillains.

The only man that looked like he somewhat belonged to the supervillain lifestyle was standing in front of Mr. Stark. He was surprisingly handsome, with dark hair slicked back in a groomed puff and a neatly groomed beard. He held crazed confidence in his frame, bulking with muscle even through his long sleeves and cargo pants.

"So," the handsome man said, "Are you going to comply or are we going after your little pet? I'm sure she's still out there right now. And we'd be happy to go to her home. Or school. Gosh, just think of all the other people who could get hurt while we're carrying out your business. We could even make you do it. Your choice, really."

Mr. Stark held for a moment, stiff and angry, but like a switch had been turned, he slumped in defeat with a slow nod. It was unlike anything she'd ever seen from the man. A drubbing failure that exuded from him, tired. He had never more looked his age as he did now.

The man gave him a condescending pat on the cheek, his smile unsettling, "Good. Glad we've come to an agreement, Stark."

Penny swallowed nervously, watching with sharp eyes as the short man with a mustache stepped over to the handsome man, a small device in his hand that fit easily in his palm. She didn't like the look of it, and she crawled forward from her hiding space just a little, an instinct to protect pulling her forward. She stopped almost immediately.

Mr. Stark looked up as the two men in front of him talked, glancing over in her direction. His eyes widened ever so slightly at the sight of her, now frozen in the shadows of the roof. Neither moved, just staring at each other for a moment.

It had been a while since Penny had seen him. Almost two months. She hadn't even looked at pictures of him in the news, always turning the channel off at the mention of him or anything to do with even Stark Industries. May had told her to leave him behind, so that's what she'd been trying to do. Now, in the old building filled with hostile people with weapons, she wondered if that was a bad decision, because now she couldn't look away from his brown eyes.

Or maybe she couldn't look away because of the warmth in them. The sorrow. The apologies swimming in his face, a silent 'I'm sorry, kid' mouthed her way as the people in the room weren't focused on him.

She shook her head furiously, slipping back into the shadows as a tremor ran up her spine. She hid behind a scratchy wooden column just before Handsome Man glanced her way, her heart beating painfully against her chest. She took a deep, shaky breath, waiting in anticipation for the relief of the pounding against her skull to disappear, indicating the man was no longer looking her way.

Penny scrunched her eyes tight, sure that she was imagining things. She was so confused, and her entire body hurt, disoriented and dumbfounded. Embarrassed. What were they doing to Mr. Stark? Had his harsh words been protection? How long had he been hurt trying to protect her while she'd pranced around New York, refusing to hear his name and wallowing in her own sadness? And what the hell was that device?

The teenager shook her head. She couldn't think about it right now. Answers were for when Mr. Stark was safe and away from these crazy people. Answers were for when she apologized for being such a dumbass. Answers were for when she got her shit together and got down there and started doing what superheroes were supposed to do.

Penny peeked around the column as the man began talking to Mr. Stark again.

The man held up the device that had been handed to him, "Now this has been fixed. So if you try that little stunt again, it'll one: Not break, and two: we'll get a little alert that tells us it's time to go and take out Spider-Woman, capeesh?"

"Capeesh," Mr. Stark muttered. The man smiled. Penny's heart dropped.

"Good. Glad to hear. So stay still while we pop this back in and we'll be back to setting Stark Industries off on the right track, along with the rest of the world. None of this 'no weapons' nonsense."

"You were fired for a good reason, Beck. Maybe if you look past your own horseshit, you'd see why."

She could practically feel the man's blood vessel pop. Wasting no time, he punched her mentor. Mr. Stark's head snapped to the side, but wasn't given a moment of reprieve as Beck gripped his neck, slamming Mr. Stark's head against the wall, choking him. Beck bared his teeth in a crazed grin. Penny flinched, unwillingly clinging to the darkness.

"And maybe if you'd get your head out of your own ass, you'd remember that you're not in charge anymore! I control you!! I'M IN CHARGE NOW!!! AND THERE IS NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT!!!"

Without any pretense, the man shoved the device into Mr. Stark's ear. Mr. Stark answered with a short scream at the pain that was quickly cut off. Another shiver ran up her spine, warning her of the danger to come and making Penny sick.

The cuffs around Mr. Stark let go as Beck took a step back, an appreciative smile on his face as Mr. Stark stood ramrod straight. His eyes were no longer warm, but robotic and unseeing. She flinched.

"Good, glad to have you back, Tony," Beck teased in his deep voice. The Iron Man suit standing vigil in the back of the warehouse rose to attention. In the same metal nature of the suit, Mr. Stark walked over to it and stepped inside, "Now. Go get Spider-Woman please."

The head turned, and slanted blue met wide white.

Tony was screaming, but no sound escaped his lips. Tony was crying, but no tears slipped from his eyes. Tony was hurting, and his heart scarred with every painful beat.

It had started two months ago. Well, if you really went back, you could say it started sometime about a year ago during his introduction of the September Foundation and BARF. Quentin Beck had led the team, and although Tony had been wary of the man's seeming instability, he believed in second chances and that first impressions aren't always a great indication.

He might have to change that policy of his, because as it turns out, he should always trust his instinct. Beck had insisted that his invention could be for more than 'just therapy' and could change the world. One war at a time. Firing him had seemed like the only logical conclusion, but maybe Tony should've kept an eye on him. If only the Avengers hadn't broken up. If only he hadn't been stumbling after a monstrously ambitious spider kid. If only he'd thought ahead. If only he was able to keep people safe.

The chip had overtaken him at a charity gala he'd attended on a Thursday night. He'd been sipping champagne from a tall flute, mingling with aggravating businessmen and wishing he'd brought the kid along so he'd at least have someone to talk to. Then the billionaire had slipped away to go to the bathroom, but he was intercepted by a waitress, and then suddenly his body was not his own.

Of all the things that had happened to Tony, he could at least say that this was one of the most interesting. Terrifying to his core for sure, but still pretty interesting.

Tony had made his way through the night, an imposter in his own skin, a spectator as he watched himself talk business in charity, exchange handshakes and cards, climb into a car driven by Happy--who'd furrowed his brows as Tony got in the back rather than taking the wheel--but hadn't questioned it.

He'd never been more afraid. The chip in his ear, small and stuck in deep, buzzed constantly, making him sick and tired, but his body never stopped moving. He had to at least appreciate they kept up a healthy sleep schedule, but nothing else was helpful in the slightest. Knowing that he was being controlled by an enemy, Tony watched in terror as he opened up top secret government programs and codes, keys to the Iron Man suit and how to access them, and then, everything about Penelope Parker.

Despite the lack of control over his body, his left arm had still shaken with fear.

The words began to appear then. Somehow spoken yet somehow not. They were just there. Clear and yet fuzzy, understandable yet unreadable.

Ah, so this is the girl, Stark? the voice had said, What a sweet girl. Oh! And smart too! You must feel so lucky that she thinks so highly of you, huh?

No. Not her. Anyone but her.

Yes, her, the voice had responded, an ounce of sympathy leaking into it, Tell you what, Stark, I'll strike you a deal. I'll send the kid home today, I won't get her involved in any of this, as long as you don't fight back.

And what is this?

This is going to change the world. And get me some revenge on the way.

Who the hell are you?

I'm--

The door behind him buzzed. He swerved, dismayed to see Penny Parker, smiling and waving at him adorably at the door.

Someone who can do a lot.

Tony's heart would stop if it could.

Tony's heart didn't stop. In fact, it kept on ticking, a bomb in his chest. A bomb that didn't go off until he set it off, the chip exploding in screeching vibrations in his ear. It had knocked him out--and really he should've expected the failsafe. Kidnappers had learned from the Ten Rings' mistakes. And Tony had learned as well.

There were three things Tony knew about the voice that had been planted in his head.

One: They had a plan. It was complicated, and it took an embarrassingly long time for Tony to piece together as he was forced to gather materials, invent things, and make deals with people he normally wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole. And honestly, their goal was straightforward, if a little stupid.

They wanted fame, retribution. They wanted to be noticed for the work they'd done, to be the face people expected when something happened. They wanted to be the next him. Or, a crude copy of what they thought was him. Well, you know what they say, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

Two: He knew these people. Sorta. Their names took a while to click, long enough that a punishing shock was sent through his veins along with an annoyed remark from the voice, but he'd never been one for remembering names. He'd remember these ones though.

William Ginter Riva.

Victoria Snow.

Gutes Guterman.

Janice Lincoln.

Quentin Beck.

Some rightfully fired employees anxious for revenge, and a bit of the spotlight he'd seemingly stolen.

Three: They were willing to do anything to be the next him. Anything included cutting Penny out of his life and taking the suit. Anything included bullying Pepper out of the tower until she left, telling him in a beyond hurt voice that he wasn't himself and to call her when he was ready to be the Tony she knew. Anything included avoiding Rhodey, not attending his PT or fixing his braces and forcing him away in a way too similar to how Tony had treated him in college. Anything included hurting the people Tony cared about until they didn't care about him.

Anything included sending the Iron Man suit to kill Penny Parker.

Penny leaped as the suit rocketed towards her, spinning around and swinging to the other side of the room. She hit Iron Man with a web, pulling the suit down as hard as she could justify while trying to escape, attaching the web to the ground. She knew it was fruitless to even try and escape--he was Iron Man after all, and he wasn't going to stop even after she left the building--but fear propelled her forward.

The web pulling down the armor only held for a few moments, Mr. Stark turning and easily burning it away with a repulsor shot. The few seconds she'd saved were crucial though, giving her just enough time to smash through the nearest window, shooting out a web as far as she could and zipping away. But the knot in her gut didn't disappear, and the rattle up her spine only grew. She flinched at the sound of crashing, sure that Iron Man had burst through the window she's just crashed through.

Her head start didn't end up giving her much help at all. She didn't think she'd been swinging for ten seconds when the repulsors charged behind her. Penny tried to twist in the air, flipping, and only getting a glimpse of the armor before a blast from the chest reactor caught her square in her stomach. She lost her grip on the web, free falling for a terrifying, painful moment, before metal arms scooped her up by her armpits.

Spider-Woman began to struggle, but she couldn't break free. A horrified chill settled in her stomach as she realized how much weaker she'd gotten from eating and sleeping less the past few months. And how much the blast that had singed her new suit black really hurt, like a hot iron pressed down on her. She groaned in pain, but continued to try and force her way out of the steely grip.

Iron Man only tightened her into a ball in his arms, diving back through the window of the building to the smiling face of Beck. Iron Man landed, but she was still held tight in his grasp, unable to break free as Beck approached her. She tried to rip her face away, but Beck grabbed her chin, tearing off her mask.

His clutching hand squished her cheeks together painfully as she was forced to look him in the eye. She narrowed her eyes, trying to be as threatening as she could appear.

"Hi, Penny," Beck greeted, his hand still on her face, "You were invading my privacy right now, and that's disrespectful. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"Suck my dick!" she grit out. Beck chuckled.

"Cute kid, eh, Stark?" Mr. Stark didn't respond, still robotically still. "Put her in the cuffs. We'll see how well your new chip works in a moment."

The Iron Man suit marched across the room, forcing her into the same cuffs Mr. Stark had been placed in earlier. They locked around her wrists so tightly she felt like her hands were about to pop off.

Pleadingly, Penny stared into the face of the Iron Man armor, unable to keep the fear from her expression. Mr. Stark still had to be in there somewhere, right? The man who had ruffled her hair every chance he got, who gave her nicknames and pressed protein bars into her hands like she was in constant danger of passing out. Where was the man she had considered family?

The suit stared at her stonily. Beck stepped up behind him, a scotch in his hand and tapping something in his ear. Taking a sip, he ordered, "Break her nose."

A metal fist snapped against her face. Her head was slapped to the side at the force. She grunted in pain, gritting her teeth against a whimper as she felt blood trickle down her nose. The pain, sharp and cutting, had already receded, leaving behind a stinging numbness that was almost worse. Needles prickling at her skin.

"Good," Beck commended, "Hit her again."

He did. Repeatedly. Pulverizing her face. Butchering her skin. Crushing to her heart.

Penny tried to fight back against the pain wrecking her, lashing out with her legs, but Iron Man only gripped her ankle and broke it. The snap was lost to her scream. By the time it was all over, she was sobbing, tears mixing with blood on her cheek. Her leg was mangled, broken so roughly she could see the bone, and when she looked at it she couldn't hold back from throwing up.

Beck wrinkled his nose at the smell. The smaller man with the mustache skittered up beside him, nervous as he muttered, "I don't know if we should--"

"Shut up, Ginter. I'm having fun."

"But people will notice she's missing!" Ginter protested. Beck sighed as if the answer was obvious, his shoulders slumping.

"She's a vigilante. All we have to do is drop her body off, leave a mess and make sure our prints are nowhere near the scene. We'll never even be noticed."

Penny shivered. She was going to die. She was going to die, not alone like she'd feared, but killed by someone she loved. And, she knew, Mr. Stark would never forgive himself for this. Shakily, the girl looked up, glaring daggers at Beck. She wasn't going to let this happen. She wasn't going to die. And she wasn't going to let Mr. Stark be responsible.

Penny turned to the Iron Man armor, swallowing, she said, "Sorry, Mr. Stark."

The cuff snapped. She lashed out as quick as a whip, punching the Iron Man armor in the face as hard as she could. No holding back.

The suit flew across the room, allowing for her to break her other cuff. Strangely, the other people in the room did nothing, clearly entertained as she sprinted/hobbled over to Mr. Stark. She switched over the webs in her shooters, praying that they would work. She hadn't tried them out yet.

The suit had already recovered, standing back up and holding out a repulsor. It hit her shoulder, but she refused to stumble, fighting her way forward. Thankfully, the Iron Man armor met her halfway, barreling into her. She allowed for herself to be picked up, sticking herself to the suit and, with a last burst of energy, ripping off not only the faceplate, but the whole helmet as well.

Mr. Stark's face was just as inhuman and stern as the faceplate had been, his eyes dark and lost, unseeing. Penny gulped, aiming her wrist at the arc reactor. She shot.

Electricity flooded from the webs, leeching into the suit and crackling around it in a static fizzle. The suit dropped, Mr. Stark grunting in pain that swam in his eyes. Penny grunted as she was crushed under the suit. unable to stop the scream as it landed on her ankle, but she smiled as she heard Beck scream in protest across the room.

"NO!!!" the man yelled, beginning to sprint over, but it was too late. The chip fell from Mr. Stark's ear, clattering to the ground beside her.

He looked down, awareness in his eyes as he looked at her. She smiled weakly, the pain overwhelming.

"Hey, Mr. Stark."

She passed out.

Penny passed out.

Tony felt like he went with her, but unfortunately, he was still awake. He was still awake to remember what he'd done. The screams he'd caused, the pain he'd forced, and his helplessness to stop through all of it. And fortunately, he was still awake. He was still awake to feel the thrum of power in his armor as it recovered from Penny's electric shock. He was still awake to stand up, huddling over Penny protectively, as he took in the terrified expressions of his oppressors.

Everyone but Beck took a step back, eyes twitching to the nearest exit, prey attempting to escape. Beck held his ground, rooted to the wood of the floor as though he were made of the same material, unmoving. Tony took a step forward, metal thudding against timber, cracking under his force.

Filled with rage and beyond ready for retribution, these people were no match for him. They were unprepared to fight, and they were unprepared to fight him when he had everything to fight for. Every blast felt like retribution. Every punch payback for what they'd done to his family. He left them all in a pile, destroying their tech and having Friday alert the police.

Still seething, Tony turned to look at Penny, his rage fizzling out immediately. The teenager still lay on the ground, her head turned to the side and her ankle splayed out unnaturally. It hurt to even look at. Pain and regret bubbled up as he stepped over to her, and he had to force down sick as he kneeled down beside her.

Without his helmet, he couldn't get her stats in front of him, but Friday still reported nonetheless, "She's alive, boss, but she needs medical before that leg can heal up."

"A hospital?"

"Yes, sir."

"Yeah. Yeah, okay. I can do that." he nodded breathlessly, instructing the AI to alert a medical team beforehand and mentally preparing for the NDAs he was going to need. He slipped his arms under her as gently as he could, lifting her as he tried as hard as he could not to disturb any of her injuries. The man flew out the crumbling wall that had once been a window, zipping over to the nearest hospital as quick as he could. The wind against his face was bitterly cold, settling into his chest right alongside his too fast and too tired heart.

It took Tony too long to fly to the hospital. Penny was cold against him and he prayed that the burning cold of her skin was just the frostiness of drifting snowflakes. When he arrived there was barely any color in her cheeks, and it was all he could focus on. He ignored the stares and points as he clunked down in front of the hospital, focusing only on getting inside and shielding Penny's face.

He practically tore out of the suit, sprinting inside and almost sighing in relief as a harried team approached him. They looked panicked, clearly freaked out by the fact that Tony Stark had arrived in the middle of the night and needed their help, but they didn't ask any questions. Instead, cool professionalism fell over their faces as they ushered him into the nearest room.

Regretfully, he let Penny go. He only caught a glimpse of her pale face as he was forced out of the room, left to stare at the door in cold regret.

Tony swallowed. He needed to make some calls.

The world slipped by. Everything was bathed in haziness, washing over her in a blurry mess that left her feeling shaky down to her bones. Not that she felt like she had bones. Did she? She must. Humans have two hundred-six bones, her brain supplied helpfully, but it refused to tell her what was happening, where she was, or even who she was. All she could tell was that she had a body, and that she didn't want it anymore.

Everything hurt. It hurt so badly she wanted to scream. Not that she knew how. But the pain still escaped her, fizzling in burns everywhere it could find. There were times when the pain dulled, paired with murky voices and whirring machines floating above her, wafting along the air and drifting through her head. Most of the time the voices were unknown, lost in a sea of anonymity, but then they were gone, and someone familiar took their place.

A rough, calloused hand gripped her own, a voice matching his skin dancing gently on the air. A sorrow symphony. She focused like she'd never focused before, seeking out the voice.

"...sorry, kid," the voice mumbled, a broken sob leaking through, "I'm so sorry, Penny. I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I didn't want you to get hurt. Not--not because of me. Not ever."

Penny? Penny. She was Penny. And this was Mr. Stark.

Like a switch had been flicked, everything fluttered back. Her life, and then the night's events. Snow. Beck. Mind control. Pain. And Mr. Stark, who sat next to her right now, vulnerable in a way she'd never heard him before. It drew something out of her, catching onto her will. She squeezed her eyes, and, after a moment, they fluttered open.

The world was a sterile white. It smelt of death, chemicals, and sorrow. Or maybe that was just her. She wasn't sure.

"Penny?"

She turned her head with a wince, blinking dark spots out of her vision as she stared at Mr. Stark. He looked so helpless. Dark circles deepened his eyes, which were wary and crazed with worry. He looked like he'd aged a hundred years in an hour. She plastered on a weak smile, "Hey, Mr. Stark."

"Penny."

"You said that already." Mr. Stark huffed in dry amusement, but his face remained dark. "It wasn't your fault, Mr. Stark. He made you do it."

He shook his head, "No, kid. I--"

"You didn't want to do it."

"No. I didn't. But I still did, and now you're hurt. You almost died, Penny, because of me." She tried to protest, but her words were lost to hacking coughs. Mr. Stark grabbed her a cup of water as the racking died down, helping her sit up and drink the water from a straw. It felt like heaven against her throat, "I like your new suit, kiddo. It's real great, but you're allowed to have yours back now, if--if you want it."

"Thanks. I miss the heater," she joked, forcing down every doubt that rose to her head. What if he took it away again? For real? Would they be accompanied by the same words as last time? Cutting and tearing her down until she felt like she wasn't even a superhero anymore?

"I see your brain ticking, kiddo," Mr. Stark interrupted, "It's yours. You deserve it. Not only should it have not been taken away in the first place, you saved me tonight. And you saved the city too. They had...they had plans."

"I'm sorry I didn't realize sooner."

"No. That's not your job, kid. Even Pepper and Rhodey didn't know what to do with me. I'm the one who's sorry. I should've planned for something like this, or at least a way to keep you from being hurt."

"It's okay, Mr. Stark. I'm just glad you're okay."

He sighed, closing his eyes as though exasperated. She worried she'd done something wrong, when he smiled at her, soft and tired, "Yeah, well, I better I'm gladder you're okay."

"I don't think gladder is a word, Mr. Stark. But I missed you too."

It wasn't long before Penny fell asleep again, darkness biting at her heels. Mr. Stark sat beside her the whole time. He was there when she woke up again. He was there when she was discharged from the hospital. And he remained beside her side for the following months as everyone recovered from the shock of what had happened, patient and caring. And whenever she slipped her fingers into his belt loop, too afraid to let go, he'd press a kiss to her forehead.

Penny Parker was afraid of abandonment, but her family wasn't going to abandon her.

#peter parker #tony stark #quentin beck #female peter parker #mysterio #irondad #kidnapping #mind control #febuwhump 2021 #spiderman #Iron Man #spiderson #irondad and spiderson

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youremeimyou · 4 years

Text

Old Lovers

pairing: Min Yoongi x reader genre: angst with sprinkles of fluff, ex-boyfriend au word count: almost 5k warning: some passionate kissing

Description: Min Yoongi is your ex-boyfriend that you’ve parted ways not on the greatest of terms with. But in the makings of a mixtape, somethings will be rekindled. Will it be friendship or maybe more?

A/N: I’ve started writing this so long ago but only recently got to finish it. I haven’t been able to post any fics in a while even though I’ve got a lot of wip. I’m graduating uni and my life’s basically a chaos right now. But I liked writing this a lot. I hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think of it :) [posting again cuz it’s not showing on tags ughh]

Going back to school has never been this painful to you before. Of course assingments, exams and longer than necessary lectures were always there to welcome you back to hell every year but no new semester intimidated you quite like this one does. Especially after the very much disconnected summer break you had.

Spending the summer in your hometown of Gwangju was a rushed decision that was actually forced upon you at the time. But it turned out to be exactly what you needed. At least, Hoseok made sure that it was. Being your life-long friend, he took matters into his own hands when you couldn't pull yourself together after the rough patch you've been through. The Hoseok-ie rule he called it: No getting in touch with anyone in Seoul. And while it was a little hard not reaching out to close friends in Seoul, you couldn't risk breaking the Hoseok-ie rule. He's sweet and you love him but that guy is one scary motherfucker when he's pissed.

Now, summertime's over and you're definetely not prepared to face your demons. It doesn't help that Hoseok's classes aren't starting until next week, either. That means you have to go through this alone.

On your way from the subway station to the campus, you check the new weekly schedule once more and it makes you let out a dissappointed huff. You can't blame anyone. You made this schedule. But do you have any idea why you decided to put music theory at 9 in the morning while you were making it? No.

Your legs take action before you know it and suddenly you're now turning to the other street. They continue to take you through another familiar path. As you close in on the shop at the corner, the calming smell of coffee reaches your nose and you realise why coming here was more tempting than attending class.

This coffee shop was your safe haven for the past three years and this semester isn't going to be any different. Even though it's so close to campus, not many people know about it and it's never hectic. Which is something you love and right now, definetely need. Some peace and quiet before starting the semester...

You enter and head straight to the barista, who happens to be a friend of yours since you're a regular.

"Hey Ryu."

"Well well, if it isn't Miss I'll come everyday this summer that never showed up once." Ryu has sarcasm alongside with mischief in his voice.

"I know but Hoseok kept me in Gwangju as a prisoner the whole summer, I'm sorry."

"Where's that dancing machine?"

"He doesn't have classes until next week so it's just me for now." You're still not over the fact he left you on your own for the first week.

"It's fine, you're not alone. Look!" Ryu points to the back where the tables are. You're confused as to who he could be pointing at. You and Hoseok are the only ones you know that come here- except...

In a flash, you stop turning around and hurriedly order a black coffee. "Please make it quick." you plead quietly but what's done is done, he already knows you're here. In fact you can hear footsteps approaching.

"That drink was great, dude. What's it called again?" He appears on your right side in his all-black outfit with a snapback. Nothing's changed about him, you think. Except you see some of his hair through the hat and it seems to be bleached. Something he hasn't done for a while. For the two years you two were together, to be exact.

"Oh, it's called yuanyang. You think I should put it on the menu?"

"Definetely, go for it."

It seems like he doesn't even acknowlegde the fact that you're right next to him. But why the hell did he even come here? You totally introduced him to this place and Ryu. So, you should get to keep this place after the break-up. Aren't those the rules?

He takes out his wallet to pay but pauses for a second. "Ryu, can I get two cookies to go?" he asks and hands over his card.

Two cookies? You know he doesn't like sugaries that much. You're almost sure he's meeting someone and it makes you scoff, unconsciously. Both him and Ryu side-eye you but you avert your gaze. "Chocolate ones, please." he adds. You think he must be ordering your favorites just to spite you.

He recieves the cookies from Ryu, fistbumps the guy and starts walking out. But then, just as he passes by you, he leaves one of the cookies on the counter in front of you and exits without another word.

First, you're shocked. And so is Ryu, apparently. You glance at him and he confusedly shrugs. Then, you're pissed. In a moment of anger, you blast out of there to go after him.

"Hey, Min Yoongi!" you shout.

He stops but doesn't turn around for a while. Just when he's about to, you appear right in front of him, the cookie in your hand.

"What's this?"

"What does it look like to you?" he retorts back, his eyes avoiding yours. And you frustratedly huff.

"What are you trying to pull?" you ask with hints of accusation in your voice. That's when he meets your gaze.

"Nothing at all. My fault for trying to be nice."

There it is, the Min Yoongi venom you were waiting for. He opens his mouth to say something else but you beat him to it.

"Ryu doesn't seem to know that we-" you pause. And immediately regret pausing. Why couldn't you just say it?

"Oh, right. You must be thinking that life stopped while you were away." And only as he says this that you notice the dark circles under his eyes. "He knows. So do a lot of other people, by the way."

Well, shit. You might've been away from all the post-breakup commotion but he was here. He was dealing with everyone of your social circle, alone. And what's the first thing you do when you see him for the first time after all that? Lashing out at him. And when he was just trying to be nice, too. Great...

"Can you move? I'm missing class." he says coldly. But despite trying to hide it, his voice sounds tired. Which makes you step out of his way and let him go. Instead, you start making your own way to class, being already late as it is.

Safe to say it's an awkward walk to campus, with you on one side of the street and Yoongi on the other. The bad news is, you constantly find yourself looking his way. Even though you curse under your breath everytime you catch yourself staring at him, you can't help but look again. But his eyes are completely fixed on the road, not even sparing you one glance.

To escape the awkwardness, you decide taking the longer route to class by heading for the stairs at the back while he takes the ones near the entrance. Since you're late and afraid of Professor Sol, you fasten your pace. Once you reach the door, your hand clashes into someone else's. Yoongi's. Of course, you think to yourself. You should've known he's taking music theory from Professor Sol. He's the best student when it comes to music and the best teacher here definetely wants him on his class.

It's too late when you realise you haven't removed your hand because he opens the door with yours under his, making it feel as though you're holding hands.

"So you finally decided to grace us with your presence? You shouldn't have. The class is about to end." Professor Sol scolds the two of you. She isn't exactly wrong. "I can pardon a student who already excells but the one who barely passes classes, I hope you know what you're doing Miss Y/N." One thing about her is that she notoriously discriminates between students and she's never liked you.

Yoongi's hand and yours is still connected and you feel him tense up. He actually used to be your guardian when it came to Professor Sol. And apparently old habits die hard because he grabs your hand harder and steps up a little. "The last I checked, at least eighty percent of your class fails every year, professor. It includes people who rank highest in some of the other classes. Strange, don't you think?"

Only Min Yoongi has the guts to do this. And only he gets a free pass after doing it. When the professor simply points you in the direction of the seats, Yoongi pulls you by the hand he’s still holding and sits you down. There’s immediately talk going around, people discussing if you were back together and all that. That’s when he snaps out of it and lets your hand go. So you’re finally able to let out the breath you were unknowingly holding. Then, he goes to one of the back seats and sits down himself. And you quietly wonder why that hurts you.

It's Hoseok's first day back and the two of you are enjoying some coffee at Ryu's shop, after a long school day.

"Y/N, I've got some bad news." he says, looking gloomy all of a sudden.

"Wha- hurry up and tell me." You hate the suspense, it makes you worry.

"I haven't been able to find a studio that we can continue the album with." He looks really upset. That's only natural, he's been working on this project for over a year now. Before you broke up with Yoongi, Hoseok was writing and producing a mixtape in Yoongi's studio with you and Yoongi's help. After you parted ways, the mixtape was put on hold.

"I've saved a lot of money this summer. We can look into some expensive ones too, I'm sure we can-"

"It's not the money, Y/N. I can't work on it the way I want to in any of those other studios. Even if it's one of the expensive ones." he cuts in. Yes, Yoongi was probably the only person to let Hoseok do his own thing.

"Well then, you should talk to Yoongi. I'm sure he'll be cool with working with you, still. As long as I don't show up, it should be fine."

He rolls his eyes. "I can't do it without you, Y/N. I'll need your help, so you'll have to show up eventually."

It's your turn to roll your eyes. You don't want anything to do with that studio. But you know how important this mixtape is to Hoseok, so you say okay. Even though you doubt Yoongi would be fine with you being there.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. In his damned, cursed, beautiful leather jacket... This time there's no hat so you can fully observe his bleached hair and notice how it's grown longer.

"Would you really be okay with it? I don't wanna put you in this position, no. Let's just forget it-"

"Hoseok-ie, you're lovely. But for now, shut up." You get up and make your way to Yoongi's table. Hoseok's mixtape has to be done, no matter what. Seems like he hasn't noticed you so you clear your throat to grab his attention.

"What?" he asks, not looking at you. Your blood slowly starts to boil.

"I need to ask you something-"

"Ryu, I kinda need that coffee asap, buddy!" He cuts you off by hollering at the barista and starts to gather his things. He really must want to get on your nerves.

"Actually, first things first, why in the bloody hell are you still coming here?" You can't help but lash out again. You discovered this place after all, you have the right to claim it.

"Excuse me?"

"I showed you this place, it's my territory. Don't you know the break-up rules?"

He laughs at that. In such a condescending way that you regret saying it. He stops getting ready and settles on the table once again. "You're cute."

Oh, you're so close to smacking him on the head.

"And you're an asshole."

Ryu comes with Yoongi's order and leaves it on the table. "I thought you were in a hurry." He says while heading back to the counter.

"I suddenly wanna stay longer." Yoongi states, looking straight at you.

Every fiber of your being wants to avoid his eyes and run away from there, he knows exactly how to make you vulnerable. But you endure. For Hoseok.

"I'll get to the point. Hoseok needs to keep working with you. Our situation shouldn't effect his mixtape, don't you think?"

He switches to serious mode quickly. "Was this your idea or his?"

"What does it matter-"

"I'm only okay with it if he wants to do it on his own will and not by you forcing him."

Okay, you do get a little bossy sometimes but he didn't have to put it as harsh as that.

"He wants to. He refused other studios and all that."

You think you see his lips curve into a small smile for a second. Hoseok and Yoongi got along very well, actually. You never wanted for them to stop being friends, anyway. This might be a chance for them to catch up even. Of course, there's a slight problem.

"But- he says he can't do it without... well, me. He wants to make sure that you're okay with-"

"Not a problem." Yoongi unexpectantly cuts you off. You're rendered speechless due to shock. He finally turns his head and looks at you. "My studio is a workplace, Y/N. Why would it bother me when you're there for work purposes? Especially when you're essential to the process."

Yoongi's sense of kindness is a very strong thing. But it's well hidden under all the coldness and sarcasm. You'd know, it had taken you a while to get to it. But when you did, it made you fall for him even harder at the time. And now, even though things between you are over, you can still see it.

"Thanks..." is all you can say while turning around to go back but suddenly your feet stop and turn back around. "Actually, thanks for before with Professor Sol, too. Even though you don't need to stand up for me anymore-"

"It's not that I needed to, Y/N. It's that I wanted to."

He goes back to gathering his stuff and you head back to give Hoseok the details of how it went. Just as you're about to, Yoongi stops by your table before leaving.

"Hoseok-ie, text me later to come up with a schedule for studio hours, okay?"

Hoseok is visibly happy and responds with a big smile. "Sure thing."

It's been three weeks since Hoseok started to work at Yoongi's studio again. But today is the first time that you'll be going there since the break-up. Even though time has passed, you're still not used to being around Yoongi all the time. Like having to attend almost all the classes with him and also, well... without him.

Without him sitting next to you, practically glued to your side, while you both silently giggle in the middle of the lecture as he whispers stupid jokes in your ear. The fact that you're consantly around him (not by choice by the way) prevents you from getting over him.

And now the studio... One of the most dangerous places for you now because of the memories you have with him there. You know, an intimate, indoor space with dim lights... A perfect spot for activities you definitely don't want to be reminded of. But for your best friend Hoseok, you have to go.

When you arrive, you call Hoseok to open up the door, too nervous to ring the doorbell. Once you enter, your giggly friend drags you hurriedly into the recording room.

"Okay warm your voice up. We should start with the vocals-"

"Wow there, pickle." you say. Vocals were maybe the only thing you told him you wouldn't do. What did he think? That he could hurry you into it and you wouldn't notice? "What vocals, Hoseok? I'm here to arrange, mix and maybe write some melodies, you know that."

"Shhh... look you gotta. Otherwise Yoongi's gonna have some other girl do it and I don't want that."

What girl? For as long as you can remember, Yoongi has tried to get you to sing. For Hoseok's and other albums. But you don't have confidence in your voice so you've always refused. And now he just wants some other girl?

"Have you told him you don't want that?"

"Yes, obviously. He told me if I can't convince you, we had no other choice. So c'mon, just try for me? Pleaseee?"

You sneakily glance out the window to see Yoongi talking with the said girl. She’s probably from your school even though you haven’t seen her here before. She’s standing a bit too close to Yoongi’s chair and leaning on him a little but that’s none of your business. And you definetely don’t care. But still, you can’t have someone whom Hoseok’s not comfortable with, sing in his own damn album.

You go out the room and toward Yoongi and the girl. “We need to speak.” you say and head for the other room. Yoongi huffs while following after you.

“What is it miss grumpy?”

You roll your eyes. “Are you really pulling an ultimatom on me like this? Hoseok clearly isn’t okay with this girl-”

“Hoseok isn’t okay with anyone but you. This isn’t my ultimatom, it’s his. Marley’s like the third person I asked to do this and he didn’t like any of them. Because what he wants is your voice. You really can’t see that Y/N?”

He sounds fed up and exhausted. What he says makes sense too, since you know how stubborn and sneaky your best friend can be.

He continues. “Look, if we want the album to proceed there are three options. First is Marley does the vocals and Hoseok will be unhappy about it. Second is there’ll be no female vocals which will make the whole thing empty and far from what we planned. Or third, you can do them and save us all the grimace.”

He makes it seem like he doesn’t care which you’ll go with but in his eyes, you can see hope that you’ll say yes to the third. But no. You’re not ready, you can’t. In your mind, you suck. So you convince Hoseok to go with Marley for now.

So, days go by. Marley comes pretty often to record. Hoseok’s not frowning that much about it anymore. And you notice how every chance she gets, Marley is pulling the moves on Yoongi. Which seem to work, since sometimes they come in or leave together. None of it bothers you at all, you tell yourself.

One day, you come in pretty late at night remembering you left your notes there. Since you have a spare key, you think you can be in and out unnoticed. Silly you because once you hear Yoongi playing the piano, you can’t just leave. You wait outside the room until he’s done and some stupid momentary courage makes you go in.

“Oh- I’m sorry.” you instantly say when you see Marley sitting next to him. “I just forgot my- I was leaving-”

“Wait!” Yoongi says hurridly to stop you. “We were done here anyway.”

Marley doesn’t look happy but gets up and leaves.

“No really, I got my notes and I was about to head out. She doesn’t need to leave on my account-”

“It’s not on your account. But since you came in here, you must have something to say?”

Why does it feel like he wants you to say something? Why does it seem like he wants you to stay? You’re convinced it’s your own mind playing tricks on you.

“No. I don’t.” you lie with a broken voice. But your feet aren’t leaving. And Yoongi is still staring at you with a cold attitude but expecting eyes.

“Fine.” you give up and say. “I thought the piano room wasn’t allowed to just anyone. I guess since she was in here...” you cut yourself off. The piano room was kind of your special place when you were together. Nobody other than you was allowed in here. This is the place you two would spend hours and hours coming up with songs. Or just talking about things you shared only with each other.

“I’m just giving her piano lessons for some extra cash. And this room doesn’t mean much to me anymore.”

His answer dissappoints you. Not the part that he indirectly said they weren’t dating. The latter part. “And here I thought the whole secrecy of the piano room was just your way of pulling the moves on whoever you’re dating.” As long as the sentence is finished, you regret saying it. You know it isn’t right. What you said is unfair to every intimate and meaningful moment you had with him here. And your words come down like the last drop on his patience.

He shoots out of the seat. “If I wasn’t so goddamn sure that you already know how you’re the first person I ever brought in here, I’d be hurt. But instead I’m just pissed.”

He’s right to be. So you can’t say anything back.

“How can you even-” he stops for a moment. “But that’s just your way, isn’t it? Spit out venom whenever you don’t like something.”

“Me?” you ask in shock. Now this you can’t have. “No. Poisonous words are your specialty.”

“And you already left me for it, didn’t you? You left me so why would you care who I bring in here anyway?” He’s switched to his shouting voice now.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. But I left because you pushed me away, Yoongi.” He averts his gaze to the floor while you continue. “I know that you love music more than anything else but what I also happen to know is that you use it as an escape. An excuse to not get too close. But guess what? We were already too close for me to not realise what you were doing! And that is why I left!”

Both of you are obviously done shouting and silence takes over the room for a while. You already had to push back tears like twice now, so you decide to leave but just then, Yoongi has something to say.

“This room will never have any significance with anyone else besides you. Just know that.” he silently admits with his eyes still fixed on the ground. You don’t say anything and just walk away.

It’s nearly the end of the semester and Hoseok’s mixtape is finally finished. He was so exited that he accidentely published it three times in a row on soundcloud. And the fact that he’s getting some great feedback is the icing on top.

In the meantime, you’ve been doing a lot of thinking. After that fight with Yoongi, you’ve started to seriously consider the fact that maybe leaving him just like that was a mistake. Because yes, you were hurt that after all you had been through, he was still trying to keep you at bay. You felt like as you were falling completely and irreversably for him, he was still holding back. But when you left, you were gone all the way. Leaving him all alone when you knew he was hurt.

Spending the last couple of months together, you finally admitted to yourself that you missed him. And that it did bother you seeing him with other girls. It bothered you that Marley was so obviously into him. Even though he made it clear he wasn’t interested, you still felt... jealous.

But you never mustered up the courage to talk to him about any of these. Even though it seems like lately he’s trying not to be cold around you, trying to strike up random converstions in efforts to perhaps recover at least your friendship. For some stupid reason you can’t seem to dare let him back in.

Your buzzing phone pulls you out of your thoughts. You check and see it’s your best friend that you’ve been feeling extra proud of these days.

“Yes, my successful, on his way to become a star best friend?”

“Oh my god, Y/N. You won’t believe this!” he squeaks while talking. And you hate the suspense so you tell him to hurry up and tell you what’s up.

“Yoongi’s friend in radio 12 agreed to play the title song!”

“What??” you start to squeak in exitement as well. “When? When will it be on?”

“In about two minutes! Just put the station on, now!” he orders and hangs up immediately. He’ll probably call his parents next. You quickly do as he says and for sure, the next song is Hoseok’s title track. You start hopping in your bed, dancing around in your room with the dumbest smile on your face but then-

The bridge comes and it’s your voice. That’s impossible, you think. But it is you singing the bridge. And then it hits you. That one night you snuck into the studio with your spare key and recorded this exact bit, just to see how it’d be... As always, you thought it wasn’t good enough. But instead of deleting, you hid the file. Guess you couldn’t hide it that well, after all. Was it Hoseok that did this? Or...

Your phone buzzes again and once again it’s Hoseok. “Y/N- This was the best surprise you ever made for me. I’m literally about to cry, you sound so good! Thank you for doing this.”

It wasn’t Hoseok, then. But you’re thrilled to know he likes it that much. You’re thrilled to hear yourself on a freaking radio station that so many people listen to! It feels amazing. It gives you so much confidence. So much that after ending the call with Hoseok, you decide to go to the only person left who could’ve done this.

You’re at Yoongi’s door. You haven’t been here for a long time but despite the nervousness, you manage to knock. It’s pretty late but you know he’s a night owl, he should be up. Soon enough, he opens the door. He’s taken aback to see you at first but then his surprised expression turns into worry.

“I know why you’re here. I’m sorry I used the recording without your consent but-”

You launch yourself onto him and crash your lips on his. His response is so quick that it’s almost automatic. He pulls you in even more, closes the door with his foot and traps your body againts the wall with his own. All the while not parting your lips once. Your hands go to his hair. You’ve been wanting to brush your fingers through his hair ever since you’ve seen that he bleached it again after two years. You pull at the tips slightly. It makes him hum into your mouth.

“Wait-” he says while he pulls away suddenly. “You-” You’re both out of breath. “Are you really okay with what I did?”

“Yes.” You close the distance once again and this time he moves you to the couch. You’ve missed this couch. You’ve missed him...

He pulls back again. “Y/N- wait. What are we doing?”

“What do you think?” you tease as your lips travel down to his neck.

“I wanna talk to you first, though.” he manages to say between his panting.

“So talk.” you say and go back to the week spots on his neck, secretly smiling against his skin.

“You’re not-” he swallows a groan. “exactly making it easy.” He then pulls your head up to face him and gives you another long kiss. But this time not out of the heat of the moment. Instead with so much meaning engraved on it.

“Y/N... I never meant to hurt you.” he says staring into your eyes. “You were right, I was a coward but- I swear if you give me another chance, I will give it my all. I’ll be a thousand percent in.”

You smile. He looks so much like a lost puppy that it makes you want to tease him. “Well, prove that to me right now then.” you say slyly.

“Uhh- I will. I- I’m gonna go dye my hair brown, right now. I bleached it to get your attention, anyway. Not to attract others, I promise.” he says in panic.

You burst into laughter. When you first started dating, you talked him into not bleaching his hair anymore. You always said it was only for his health but he always knew you were jealous of girls getting attracted because of it, too. “No, don’t. I actually missed how even hotter it makes you look. Let’s keep that for now.” you say. “I was kidding, you don’t have to do or say any-”

“I love you.”

You pause. It’s not the first time he tells you that. But this time he says it in such a way that you’re certain it’s the real thing. Even more real than before. “I love you, too.”

“So...” he leans into you and whispers in your ear. “Couch or bed?”

You both giggle. “Surprise me.” you whisper back and he quickly tries to lift you but fails, making you both laugh out loud. “Umm- I haven’t been working out lately, baby. I’m sorry.” he says between giggles.

Between all the laughter, you silently thank him for giving you another chance, too. And make a mental promise that you won’t give this up so easily ever again.

....

A/N: This was my first Yoongi fic and I feel good about it. It’s really hard to imagine Yoongi not being a god at music so anytime I use him as a character, he’s always a prodigy lol. I can’t help it he’s just really good. Anyways if you’ve bared with this, thank you sooo much for reading and I hope you liked it. Let me know if you did. Always wash your hands and stay healthy :)

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rrickgrrimes8 · 3 years

Text

Normality is Death

Chapter Five ~ Left Behind

masterlist

The group rushed out of the hideout carrying half of the guns they came with, Glenn and Addie trailing behind. Glenn looked around at their faces confused about where Rick was.

"Hey, hey slow down," Glenn shouted over to Shane.

Shane looked at the pair, "what?"

"Where the hell is Rick?" Glenn pressed him.

"Went back to camp," Shane shared, confused with the urgency of the question.

"What? Why? We need him here," He stated looking over to the younger girl her face consumed with worry as well.

"And why the hell is that?" He snapped sick of the questions.

"It's Jacey!" Shane face turned to stone at that name.

"How the hell do you know that name?!" The man yelled in his face.

"She's alive," Glenn nervously told him.

"What?"

"Jacey, she's alive. She's in Addie's group." Shane looked at the boy shocked and stepped away, a little.

"She's here in Atlanta. That girl that was with Addie, that was her," Glenn smiled at him happy to partake in this reunion and happy for his new friend to get his daughter back.

"Who the hell is Jacey?" Daryl asked slinging his crossbow over his shoulder.

"R-Rick's other kid," Shane muttered the realisation finally setting in. Daryl mumbled an 'oh' and distracted himself from the situation he didn't feel the need to be involved in, by shooting any nearby walkers

"She can't be. She died, I saw her die," He insisted to which Addie shook her head.

"She told me that she fell with a biter - it pushed her right?" Shane nodded, "She hit her head and the biter that was on her was about to kill her until you killed it. She tried to call out to you. I guess you didn't hear her. You left her behind that night but she's alive. I swear to you she is." The older man looked at Addie completely frozen. How could he have left her behind? He really thought she died.

"Rick needs to see her, Shane," Glenn declared snapping Shane out of his daze.

"Y-yeah he does." Shane ran his hand through his hair, subconsciously, "But how do you suppose we do that? I'm sure you understand how big Atlanta is and s-shes just a kid. She could be lost o-or..." He trailed off.

"I assure she is not just a kid officer. She's saved my life more times then you could imagine," Shane smiled softly to the girl, "and as for finding her, I know exactly where she'll be."

Jacey rounded the corner struggling against the rancid odour of the walkers that were closer then she liked. She still hadn't found Addie and minute by minute she was losing hope that she actually would. The girl sighed, hatching a new plan, which she thought would be best, to go to their meeting point and just hope that she shows up eventually.

Hours go by and Addie still hasn't shown up. Jacey sat down on the curb burying her head in her hands, whimpering softly. She couldn't believe that she had lost her, the person that means the most to her in the world. One of the only people she had left.

Hope returned however when the illuminating lights of a torch got nearer to her. "Addie?" She susurrated looking into the glowing lights. Footsteps echoed into the area, putting her on edge, her hand flinching to her side, grasping her gun. "Who's there?" the girl shouted to whoever was zoning in on her.

"Jacey?" A masculine voice called out. Her head snapped into the direction it came from and a tall buff man emerged from the bright lights.

"S-Shane," She spoke, her voice barely coming to a whisper. Shane looked at the girl he once thought to be dead and could feel a smile reach across his face. She's alive.

Shane came closer looking at her face closely as if he hadn't seen it for years when it had only come to a few months.

"I thought you were dead," He almost cried.

"Not dead, just left behind," Coldly she spoke the anger bubbled inside of her - he left me behind. The older man stepped forward causing her to take a step back.

"Jacey please..." He trailed off his voice cracking.

"Please, what? Forgive you? Let you hug me like everything's okay? Like you didn't leave me in the middle of the woods with no weapon and nowhere to go?"

"I-I thought you were dead... I thought the walker got you," He attempted to justify still looking stunned by the girl in front of him.

"Well should've looked harder. I called out to you. I called out to mom a-and Carl and none of you stopped," Her voice trembled with every word as she failed miserably to stop the tears.

"I didn't hear you, I'm sor-"

"Bullshit!" Jacey shouted to him, "If you really fucking cared you would've come back to me. You would've saved me but you didn't! You didn't because I think you wanted me out of the way - you all did."

"W-what? Jacey, no."

"Don't tell me I'm lying because I know it's true. I looked for you. I looked for you everywhere but I could never find you because you were never looking for me!" She snapped.

"I did, Jacey! Carl made me. He thought... he knew you were alive somehow, and he told me to go look for you. A-and I tried, believe me, I did but you were gone. You were dead," He almost begged.

Jacey stopped for a moment looking at the man in front of her, the man she had known since she was a child, someone she looked up to and scoffed, "Fuck you."

"Jacey please," He spoke sterner than before.

"What are you even doing here? How did you know I was here?" The younger girl spoke suspiciously her hand rushing to her gun once again, aiming it towards him.

"Addie... Addie told me okay? Put the gun down," Shane told the distressed girl.

"Addie," She whispered, "She's alive. Where is she? What did you do to her?" Jacey shouted getting closer and closer to the man.

"Nothing... I did nothing okay? Put it down you know me I wouldn't hurt her. So put your gun down." Jacey looked at the man she once knew and sighed but refused to lower her weapon.

"Jacey calm down I'm okay," Another voice called to her, "Put your gun down dumbass."

"Addie!" She screamed to her friend dropping her arm and engulfing her in a hug, "I thought... God, I thought you were dead."

"Shh, it's okay. I'm fine," She chuckled at the child who was clinging to her, "I'm okay you can let go now."

Jacey sheepishly let go and looked over to Shane, "You're with him?"

"He saved me, Jacey," Addie informed her, "He's not the villain here. He really thought you had died." The girl looked at Addie and then at Shane, she wasn't ready to believe that just yet. To her, the pain of being left behind wasn't something she could just get over in a second.

"Look Jacey I'm so sorry okay? I truly am. I understand if you can't believe or forgive me," He croaked, "But you've got to come with me okay?"

"Why?" She pondered.

"It's your dad," Jacey felt her heart quicken as she waited for him to continue, "he's alive." The younger girl looked to him as if expecting him to say he was joking but he remained silent - it was true.

"N-no he's not. You told me he died."

"I know I did, I'm sorry but he wasn't moving a-and-" He started but was interrupted, "Save it. Seems like it's a habit for you to do that, leaving people behind."

"And what about Mom and Carl, did they get left behind as well?" She whimpered.

"No, Jacey, God no. They're alive, back at camp - safe," He corrected looking at the girl with pained eyes, "And you're gonna see them again, you have to come back with us."

Jacey remained motionless - was she going to come back with them? The way Shane said it made her think that she didn't have a choice.

"No," She sternly put, "No I'm not."

"Jacey-" Addie began.

"No, I won't. I can't," Jacey snapped at her.

"Not even for your dad?" She shook her head slowly, "But you lost him and now he's back and you're going to throw that away."

"I have a family with you and Mitchell and everyone else. I don't need them. They left me," Addie looked to the girl and let a heavy breath out.

"I'd kill to have the chance you are getting right now," She admitted dejectedly, "How can you not go back to them?"

"Addie-"

"No don't! For months you cried over them - over losing your father - and I was there for you. You told me about the pain it brought you to even think about him. So what the hell happened to that? What changed between then and now?"

"I don't need them. I don't need any of them, not even my father," Addie glared at the girl knowing how much she wanted to just go with them, but her pride got in the way of that. She knew that Jacey didn't mean what she said no matter how much she attempted to convince herself she did.

"You'll regret it."

"I doubt that," She muttered, "I made my decision, Addie, respect that."

Jacey looked over to Shane and spoke sharply, "You too, Shane."

He nodded in response and looked away sorrowfully, "What do I tell them?" She glared at the man not wanting to answer the question, "Nothing."

"Nothing?"

She nodded, "As far as they know, I'm still dead."

"Jacey as much as I respect your decision not to go back. T-this... this is cruel. Rick... he's, I don't know, he's broken. I had to tell him to leave today because he couldn't keep his emotions in check," He told her, "They deserve to know. Carl deserves to know that his sister is out there, so does your parents."

"It's easier if they think I'm dead, Shane," he gazed at her, shock evident.

"How could you think that, Jacey?"

"Because it's true."

"No, it's not," Someone said from behind her.

She spun around quickly coming face to face with the man that tried to save her earlier, "I know its none of my business but uh Ric- your dad when he found out he broke down. A-and that night, when Lori was explaining what happened to him, I was walking by, and all I could hear was his sobbing. It lasted all night."

Jacey looked at him, trying to console her tears, "I've made my decision."

"I think you've made the wrong one," He shot back, "Names Glenn by the way."

Jacey smiled at the man, "Jacey, but I'm not going to change my mind no matter what you tell me. My dads a strong man he'll get over it."

"He won't," Shane apprised, "I know him and he won't. Neither will Carl nor will your mom. They still haven't and its been months. I still hear Carl having nightmares about it."

"Shut up Shane."

"No, I won't because you mean so god damn much to that kid! He can barely sleep at night because you're not with him. And your mom constantly worries about him because she thinks the same thing will happen to him. Glenn already said what your dads like, but I guess you don't care right?"

"Shut up."

"You don't have to watch it or hear it, so it doesn't bother you. You can live happily while they are forced to live without you."

"Shut your fucking mouth!" She screamed at him, stopping him from continuing, "I'm not coming back with you."

"I have to tell them, kid. It's what's right," He told her.

"How will it make it better?" Shane just looked at the girl, "You know that Dad won't stop looking for me and will probably get killed doing it. Mom will continue worrying not only for Carl but for me as well. Carl will still have nightmares, and he'd have to live knowing he left his sister behind. How could any of that be possibly better?!" Shane studied the girls cold and unbreaking face.

"Face it Walsh grieving is easier than any of that."

Glenn sighed, looking at the scene unravelling. "If you change your mind this is where our camp is," he tells her taking his map out of his bag and giving it to her.

She mutters a thank you and looks back at Shane, "I'm sorry Shane, but things are different now. The world has changed and so have I. If you do end up telling them um... just tell them that I love them. Shane saw the tears form in her eyes and nodded, "It's getting late. We should head back." Jacey hummed a small 'yeah' and waved them off as they left. Shane turned around last minute and told her, "Your dad would be so proud of the woman you've become. If only he could see how strong you became." Shane walked away after finishing causing her to finally breathe.

She looked over to her friend, who was still angry that she just brushed them off, "I can't believe you."

Jacey sighed, picking up her bag and walking closer, "Can we stop talking about this? All that matters is that I've got you back, okay?" Addie reluctantly nodded and set off back to camp.

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cheri-translates · 4 years

Text

[CN] S2 Gavin and MC’s Main Storyline Meeting (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for the Season 2 main storyline, which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

If you don’t know anything about Season 2, do check out this post first!

Chronology: Throbbing Date -> Chapter 1 -> Chapter 2

[Note: I won’t be doing other main storyline translations 😅 I translated this for a future analysis]

[Brief context you need to know prior to Ch 1-9]

Kiro is working as an artiste in MC’s company

MC is a successful producer and a member of Black Swan

Lucien is a neuroscientist, professor in Loveland University, and an advisor in STF for confidential R&D

Anna informs MC that a clip of Kiro announcing he’s an Evolver has appeared in the news and there are rumours of Kiro hurting someone. At present, he’s uncontactable

The STF is going to investigate the matter (they maintain the peace between normal humans and Evolvers), but MC doesn’t want it to blow up

She sneaks into Lucien’s office in STF and tries to persuade him to stop STF from investigating, but he says there’s nothing he can do

After she leaves, she gets spotted by a detective, and she alters his memories with her new Evol

It’s revealed that her Evol only worked on normal humans at first, but she’s been able to use it on weak Evolvers after training it

She overhears two STF officers talking about a new captain on the Special Operations Team, and prepares to plant a tracker on them:

[End of Chapter 1-8]

Before I take a step forward, there’s a sudden tightening on my wrist.

My hands are firmly clasped behind me. Before I can get a proper look at the person’s face, my whole body is pressed against the glass behind me.

[Chapter 1-9]

??: What are you doing here?

A familiar voice enters my ears, reminiscent of wind from the past awakening my memories.

I turn my head, looking at the person behind me in disbelief.

As compared to in high school, his eyebrows have become sharper. Yet, there seems to be more substance in that sharpness.

The brief encounter in front of the school gate, the inadvertent meeting of eyes after class...

Scenes from six years ago flash before my eyes, along with an even more distant time, leaving me slightly lost.

He came back after all.

This reunion after six years catches me off guard.

In the days before this reunion, I frequently thought about it.

As though waiting for the first bloom after the snow melts - slightly restless, and slightly anticipating.

Even though he said it was all right to arrive a little late, from what I see now... neither of us were late.

[Note: She’s making reference to her farewell with Gavin in Ch 37]

The hard, small tracker is in the palm of my hand. My thoughts whirl around in countless circles. In the end, I say the most normal words.

MC: ...Gavin, it’s been a while.

Gavin: What are you doing here?

Without waiting for my response, a soft and faint voice enters my ears.

Gavin: Someone’s coming. You don’t plan to say anything?

MC: ...

Gavin turns his head slightly. He doesn’t loosen his grip. The light remains on me.

To prevent myself from being discovered, I lean backwards against him, using his body to cover my existence.

Vaguely, I seem to hear a soft chuckle. I turn my head to its source.

Gavin maintains a straight face, but his slightly arched eyebrows betray a certain emotion.

Gavin: You still have one last chance.

MC: I’m really just surveying the place.

Warmth from his body travels to my back, like a wordless greeting.

He exerts more pressure, and I turn my head involuntarily.

At this moment, I seem to feel something leaning against my back gently.

A bird flies past the window, and Gavin releases my wrist.

The feeling of being shackled earlier disappears.

MC: No one was even around just now!

His expression is light, and his eyes crinkle upwards for a moment. He immediately turns his head to the side.

Gavin: Come with me.

My earlier shock settles, and I follow behind him as he walks along a corridor.

Away from the hall with passers-by, Gavin and I stand face-to-face near the corridor window. Neither of us speak.

Seeing the face illuminated by the sunlight from the window, I take a light breath and focus my attention on the matters at hand.

Gavin... has been transferred back to Loveland City? Could he be the new Captain of the Special Operations Team?

My line of sight sweeps over his white uniform and the badges on his chest. My speculation becomes more certain.

Considering how much attention this case has gotten, it should be handed over to him.

Gavin: You didn’t finish speaking just now. What exactly are you surveying here?

I regain my senses, trying my best to smile.

MC: I’ve been collecting solved Evol cases for a program recently, so I thought to come to STF and have a first-hand look.

Gavin purses his lip slightly, his gaze on my face. I calmly place my hands behind my back.

MC: I was looking for those two special officers to understand the process of how STF handles cases. I didn’t think I’d meet you here. Since you should be very busy, I shall not be a nuisance...

Gavin: You can be a nuisance. What program is making you go through so much effort? Tell me about it.

Facing Gavin’s straightforward gaze, I can only thicken my skin and continue speaking.

MC: The... name is tentatively “The Ins-and-Outs of STF’s Unknowns”.

Gavin: The name of the program isn’t bad, it sounds ambitious. Let’s talk about it in detail.

MC: ...wait! You’re newly promoted, so go and celebrate. It’s important to meet your subordinates. I can wait for you to be free before taking up your precious time.

I lower my head to avoid his eyes. I decide to rush off, but Gavin blocks my way.

Unable to withdraw my foot in time, I crash into his chest, and hit against the badges painfully.

I rub my cheek, slightly aggrieved, and look up to Gavin.

Seeing this, Gavin simply knits his brows slightly. His eyes are clear, as though waiting for another answer from me.

He doesn’t speak, but quietly gives me one last chance. Faced with such a Gavin, my heart sighs silently.

MC: I’m here because of a matter involving an Evolver artiste working under me.

...perhaps it’s my misperception, but his expression is no longer as cold as it was before.

With that, I meet his eyes, and no longer beat around the bush.

MC: STF’s intervention will only delay the matter. If he’s being used by some Evol organisation... it will just worsen the divide between normal people and Evolvers.

Gavin: After saying so much, what are you trying to say? Persuading me not to investigate?

I shake my head.

MC: No. If it were someone else, I might think of another way to handle the investigation. Seeing that you’re the one in charge of the investigation, I have nothing to worry about now.

Gavin: Why are you so confident?

I’m stunned for a moment. Only when I see his eyebrows furrowed questioningly, do I realise that my entire answer left my lips.

MC: It’s mostly because... I know what kind of a person you are. I don’t need to explain further, and I didn’t think of making an excuse, because lies can never become truths. I believe you’d use your method to find a true ending to this issue. You’ll give me, Kiro, and all the innocent people in this issue a true answer.

I believe every bullet from you resounds in the name of justice.

His amber eyes freeze for a while.

Gavin’s eyes flicker faintly, and looks like he’s about to speak.

The sound of footsteps draw near, and someone calls Gavin’s name from afar.

Gavin watches me, and there’s a change in the look in his eyes. After a while, he lowers his voice.

Gavin: This isn’t a place you should be in.

MC: Got it.

I understand that, at least right now, he wouldn’t probe further on the reason for my appearance in STF.

...after all, given Gavin’s identity and his investigative abilities, he definitely already knows that I’m in Black Swan.

No matter what my attitude was, we have been standing on opposite positions from the start.

MC: Gavin, I...

Gavin: Whether it’s your company, or the other people behind you, don’t interfere in this matter. The STF will handle everything.

Young Special Officer: Captain Gavin, Captain Eli is looking for you...

Gavin: Got it.

Gavin walks towards the special officer who called him. After giving him some instructions, he turns his head to look at me again.

The young special officer nods, then walks to my side.

Young Special Officer: Miss Reporter, the exit is over here.

I stare at Gavin’s retreating form and take a deep breath. I affectionately pat the young special officer’s shoulder.

MC: All right, I’ll leave now.

The miniature tracker hidden in my sleeves sticks to his body. Flushing red, the special officer takes a few steps, completely unaware.

Saying a “sorry” in my heart, I retract my hand and quietly follow behind the special officer.

The bracelet on my wrist dangles along with my action. The thin ginkgo leaf falls quietly against my wrist.

I grip my wrist lightly, my palm overlapping with the place Gavin had clamped earlier.

He didn’t use any force. It isn’t painful at all.

[Chapter 1-10]

The STF training grounds.

Special police: A! Warm! Welcome! To! Our! New! Captain!

Gavin: ...

Seeing Gavin’s expression cracking slightly, Eli desperately suppresses the urge to gloat.

Eli: The famous Special Police Officer B-7. Every new kid here has memorised your deeds back then by heart.

Gavin: When did you have so much nonsense?

Gavin arches his brows. Eli could have sworn that on Gavin’s face is a look of ridicule which he hasn’t seen in a long time.

The inauguration ceremony, which was originally meant to continue for the entire afternoon, ends quickly in ten minutes on Gavin’s request.

The special police officers on the training grounds disperse after looking at each other. The two of them leave the training ground, heading to the Administration Building.

Eli: How is it, are you able to adapt well?

Gavin: Not bad.

Eli: Need me to celebrate with you?

Gavin: No need.

Eli: ...you’re still the same as always.

Eli releases a soft sigh and catches up with Gavin.

Eli: You suddenly transferred to Loveland City - even I was a little surprised. From how you looked just now, it seems you were already prepared for it.

Eli looks at the comrade who once escaped death with him, and only one thought is in his heart-

Whoever is in the Special Operations Team next time is going to suffer.

Eli: Oh right, I have a question.

Gavin hears the hesitance in Eli’s voice. He pauses.

Eli: Why aren’t you willing to announce your identity as the Commander-in-chief of STF?

Gavin: You should know why I returned to Loveland City.

Initially startled, Eli quickly understands the meaning behind Gavin’s words.

Eli: Don’t worry. Since you’re the Captain of the Special Operations Team now, we’ll cooperate with you fully. The mission you’re referring to is still considered “top secret” in STF. There have already been some initial developments, so you can rest assured.

Watching Gavin nod inattentively, Eli suddenly thinks of something very important.

Eli: Also, was the person you met just now...

Gavin: What are the results of the investigation?

Eli freezes for a moment after Gavin cuts him off. He smiles and nods.

Eli: We’ve got them. The report should already be on your desk.

Gavin: Let’s go quickly then.

Seeing Gavin walk towards his office without a turn of his head, Eli sighs in his heart, speeding up his pace to catch up.

There are no traces of the office being used. On the table rests a stack of newly sent documents.

Gavin flips through the documents briefly, pursing his lips.

Gavin: This isn’t everything.

Eli: Should I contact the general advisor of the confidential R&D department?

Gavin: No need. How much we have here represents how much he’s willing to disclose. We’ll find the rest ourselves.

Gavin locks the documents in a drawer. Casting a glance at the window, his lips move slightly.

Gavin: We’ll take action tonight.

Eli: Such a hurry?

Gavin: We can’t?

Eli: We can, but are you hurrying to settle work, or hurrying to settle work to meet someone?

Gavin: I already have.

Eli: I didn’t mention who it was.

Gavin: ...

Eli: What are your thoughts? Do you find the change very large?

Gavin: ...

Seeing that Gavin isn’t speaking, Eli knowingly remains silent.

In the room, there is only the faint sound of the computer running.

The thread of memory is pulled, one end holding that figure disappearing in the opposite direction, and the other gently tugging on his emotions.

Gavin: She has never changed.

Although the morning trip to STF was alarming and dangerous, I managed to confirm one thing.

Since this matter has fallen into Gavin’s hands, there's nothing to worry about on the media level.

But whether he will use this as a chance to keep an eye on Black Swan is a different issue.

I remember Gavin’s resolute attitude, letting out a sigh.

Since I’m a member of Black Swan, he might not be willing to be associated with me...

The sun shines through the gaps of the leaves, bringing with it a melting warmth on every corner of the street.

I narrow my eyes slightly, thinking about that eternal night of the earth - it’s so distant, just like an illusion.

The comet cluster X1917 and the doomsday which really occurred, had brought everything back to seventeen years ago.

In the seventeen years I’ve experienced again, there have been many dramatic changes.

But under the surface of this seemingly balanced society resides the friction and disputes between two groups of people, like a dormant volcano.

Perhaps this peace can be maintained, or perhaps it would explode in the next second...

There’s suddenly an earth-shattering cry behind me.

I turn and see a five or six year old girl crying as her balloon floats in the sky.

In the next second, the balloon which almost disappeared floats back.

The passing teenager grabs the string, bends over, and ties it onto the girl’s wrist. The girl quickly breaks into a smile.

Looking at the two of them waving at each other and going off in opposite directions, I applaud in my hand and sigh softly at the same time.

To maintain such a balance, and also find “that thing” - it’s an immense challenge to me.

...forget it, I’ll take it one step at a time.

I rub my deflated tummy, deciding to resolve the problem of hunger in front of me.

For the sake of completion: MC goes into the convenience store and meets Kiro. He didn’t hurt anyone - the guy slipped and fell on his own LOL

Wondering why MC has a ginkgo bracelet? Fan speculation here. [Update: This question is answered in Chapter 2]

Phone call: here

🌸 MOMENTS 🌸

Gavin’s Post: It’s windy.

MC: The wind today seems colder.

Gavin: Because the next season is coming.

Minor: Bro Gavin, where are you? I’m treating you to a congratulatory meal right now!

Gavin’s Post: It’s windy.

MC: Probably because you’ve returned.

Gavin: Do you think so?

Minor: Bro Gavin, where are you? I’m treating you to a congratulatory meal right now!

Gavin’s Post: It’s windy.

MC: It’s very common for it to be windy in Loveland City during this season. Have you forgotten?

Gavin: I haven’t forgotten anything related to this place.

Minor: Bro Gavin, where are you? I’m treating you to a congratulatory meal right now!

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc gavin

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djinmer4 · 3 years

Text

The Meeting (1/? House of M AU)

So I think it’s been more than a year since I claimed I was going to write this.

Ha. Ha. Ha.

Anyway, here’s the first chapter of my House of M AU. Inspired by that first short in the 2010 Girl Comics.

~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a long mission, made even longer by having to fill out the mission report afterward. Adrenaline had left Darkholme too antsy to go back to his apartment and crash in his bed, but at the same time, he was too tired to indulge in any of his usual hobbies like dancing or the Danger Room. Spotting the new cabaret that opened up he decided a nightcap and some light entertainment would probably tire him out enough to put him to sleep. He ordered a martini and listened to the MC introduce the first singer.

She was adequate, on key, and could keep time well enough, but her voice was a little weak. In fact, it was weak enough that he could hear some commotion start behind the curtain. He teleported backstage and saw the MC menacing one of the dancers with a knife. “Don’t!” she cried out.

Clearing his throat, he got the attention of the two combatants. The MC raised the knife against him (what type of idiot didn’t recognize a Red Guard uniform?) and Kurt tackled the man. They exchanged a few blows, but then the MC sagged when the dancer hit the back of his neck with her shoe. “Danke schon,” he told the curly-haired brunette.

“I have no idea what that means, but thanks for the assist.” She lowered the pump and wiggled it back on her foot while he cuffed the MC.

“Do you want to press charges?”

She bit her lip, but after a second she straightened her back and the lines on her face hardened. “Yes, yes I think I will.”

He tapped his wrist communicator, activating the record function. “Sehr gut. I’m Captain Kurt Darkholme and it’s 10 PM, June XX, 19XX. Could you please state your name for the record?”

She raised an eyebrow at the communicator but obligingly leaned in. “My name’s Kitty Pryde.”

It was a couple of months later before he went back to that particular venue. Things appeared to have improved a little, the place was a little cleaner, the servers looked a little less stressed out. The new MC seemed affable enough, although the way he eyed some of the employees made Kurt a little uneasy. Spotting the young dancer from before, he paid for a private dance in a booth. “Fraulein Pryde.”

She squinted through the shadowed glass. The dim lighting made her white dress glow angelically but prevented her from seeing who was on the other side. “Captain Darkholme?”

“Ja, Fraulein. I was wondering if you would have the time to answer some questions.”

She glanced over at the clock. “Well, you did pay for 10 minutes. As long as you don’t mind not getting your show and don’t go beyond that time . . . “

“Maybe next time. I didn’t want to cut into your work hours. So how have things been?”

She lit up in a way that matched the wings on her outfit. “Oh, it’s been great with the new manager. The bathroom stalls all got fixed, he’s been making repairs. No one’s gotten stiffed on their pay the last few months.”

His mouth twisted down. “Really? The MC seemed a little . . . “ he waved one arm but realized she couldn’t see his expression with the way the booths were set up. “He respects your boundaries?”

“Is this about the leering?” Ms. Pryde shrugged, fiddling with her lace collar. “Yeah, he leers. But you know what this guy hasn’t done? Hasn’t withheld anyone’s paycheck to force them to get handsy with the customers. Hasn’t drilled any peepholes in the changing rooms and sold the view to perverts. And he definitely hasn’t pulled a knife on anyone who said ‘no’ when he tried to sell more than they wanted to give. This guy looks but he hasn’t said or done anything awful to me or any of the other performers, so we’ll put up with him undressing us with his eyes any day.”

Kurt was shocked. He hadn’t realized the situation was quite so bad. “From the way this sounds, things are much more abusive than I thought. Perhaps I should bring this to someone’s attention-”

The dancer tapped sharply on the window. “Hey, now, it’s not that bad. I’ve talked to some of the other performers here, Genosha actually does a really good job with its sex workers, there is a lot more protection here than other places. It’s just . . . this isn’t exactly the best place in Hammer Bay. Some things are going to fall through the cracks no matter what.”

“Stil . . . I simply do not like the thought of you having to go through more trauma after what happened the last time I was here. Perhaps you could find a job at a more reputable venue?”

“Err, that’s not a good idea. For me anyway.”

Kurt leaned forward, even though he knew she couldn’t see him. “Fraulein Pryde, are you being pressured in any way to work here?”

“No, nothing like that!” Then she sighed and looked down at her hands. “Truth of the matter is, this is one of the few places willing to pay its workers under the table. That’s kind of important for me.”

“Explain.”

“Look, it’s nothing illegal. It’s just . . . I came to Genosha on a student visa. I’m not really supposed to be taking a job off-campus. I’ve got a scholarship that covers tuition and board, but that’s it. And my parents weren’t really happy with me going so far away, so I don’t like asking them for money.”

“I-”

“Your time is up. Unless you want to shell out more money, we’re going to have to continue this conversation after my shift.”

“Another day then.” Then before he make a fool of himself by saying more, Kurt teleported out of the building.

#kurtty #Kitty Pryde #Kurt Darkholme #Shadowcat #nightcrawler #house of m #intent is to avoid political or social commentary #you can see how long that resolution lasted

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jjba-hell · 3 years

Text

Fate and Fortune

Part 16! Here’s part 15 but the rest are in the fate and fortune tag

... lol so I dipped after reaching the halfway point (I think) of this series and apparently couldn’t get my creativity flowing enough to do anything else. This is unedited so enjoy :D

But I’m back and I’m trying to get back into the swing of things.

Just the usual tw of some serious injury but we been new

Hey, @fyre23 and @risottoneroo - how ya’ll doin’? :3

“Look, I understand we need back up and all but is it really necessary he join us?” Vera grumbled, more to herself as she leaned back against the wind screen of the buggy.

Perched cross-legged on the hood, Vera was handed a cigaratte from Jotaro. He offered his flame for a moment but she refused- she wanted to hold off until the mutt would show his face- he wouldn’t come near her if she had a cigarette.

The first time she had met Iggy, it was perhaps a day or two before she left Egypt. A French bulldog from New York, Avdol had seemed to appease the beast long enough to bring him home from a trip, she could only speculate now, after meeting Mr Joestar.

The second Iggy came within two feet of her he had promptly lifted his leg to relieve himself but the anger that had burst from her own actions would probably set the tone for the rest of their meetings forever.

Admittedly it wasn’t her best moment- swatting a cup of coffee at the dog from the table in retaliation but when she came back to clean her own mess and saw him licking the coffee (even though he huffed indifferently and walked away with his head held high).... it was the one thing they had in common.

To her surprise Avdol seemed as unaware of Iggy’s arrival as they were, save the fact only half of them knew what was waiting in that helicopter.

Vera brought Fortune about and tried to light the cigarette- thinking in the path where Jotaro had lit her cigarette but- to her own sinking panic... no avail. Why wouldn’t it-? She almost leapt off and head straight toward her bag, passing Kakyoin- or at least half way. He stopped her with a gentle catch of her shoulder, a deep frown on his face. “Everything okay?”

Maybe she was breathing too much into it. Was she overthinking it? She brought the cigarette closer once more and tried to light. To her relief a warm coal at the end of her cigarette started but the effort and stress made her limbs feel weak.

“Vera?” Kakyoin moved in closer, holding both her shoulders now as the chopper made its descent.

“I- uh. It’s not important now, I’ll worry about it soon as we’re back in town.”

She spun out of his grasp- making her way to her bag as if there were something in there that could help. Her hands seemed to move to the tarot deck in zip pocket of her duffel bag. One quick shuffle between her own fingers was all it took to pull Death.

The lump in her throat was heavy to swallow. Death 13 was a problem they had disposed of- the card she’d been pulling recently was the World. Did it mean the same as it did a few years ago?

Vera brought Fortune to her back as she approached Avdol- Polnareff taunting Iggy in the back seat. Her stand was stil corporeal, and when she tested on making her foot steps appear before her in the sand it was working but it was too exhausting to put her at ease.

As Iggy and Polnareff sized up each other’s stand she gave Avdol a nudge. “Just a warning, something’s up with Fortune.”

He hummed, not moving his head but moving his gaze to peer at her at his side. “What’s the indicator?”

“They’re taking too much strain on my energy. I know what restless exhaustion feels like and it isn’t that. I might not be as much use until we reach the city for me to think and test it out.”

In light of the more light-hearted atmosphere she shook of her own jitters and smiled along with the others as they prepared to move onto the next leg of their trip. For a moment- as Mr Joestar and the two Speedwagon attendees spoke, Jotaro nudged at her hand with his. She had just brought up her gaze to meet his face when the words left his mouth- “You’re sure you can’t do nothing for her?”

For a moment she considered it. If she could go back, she might be able to buy Holly more time. At least in reversing the effects it’s been having on her body. “I’ll go.”

As if they were all listening in on the conversation- her hands seemed to have brought all eyes on her. “If I can buy her more time, I want to be able to help.”

Jotaro could only nod. With only her duffel bag in she greeted the others- giving perhaps much too long a hug to the other two teenagers before waving goodbye.

“So, you’re the infamous Vera.” One of the men in front had laughed as she watched the other become a speck in the sand.

“Infamous? Jeez, you pay for one court case for me and suddenly I sound in the same class as Iggy.”

It earned a short laugh which was cut off by the shatter of the windscreen, machinery going haywire as they started plummeting. The pilot flailed wildly as they plummeted in all of it Vera was caught between helping him and bracing for impact. Fortune materialized for a moment and that strain alone made her eyes droop but she focused on the canteen- forcing whatever was in the water to return as her own hands grabbed the container and waited for it all to return before capping it. Soon as she could she chucked it out of the broken windscreen. Of course it didn’t end there.

Not without what she could only describe as a hand, bursting from the canteen lid and grabbing onto the nose and lunging for them once again. Fortune moved on their own- blocking the hit and throwing up at the blades above them.

It was the last hit she could get before her own hands flung around her head and braced for the impact into the sand.

It felt softer than the borderline concussion she had gotten from the Cessna- not that was a better comparison. But after shock she managed to crawl out along the other grunting agents and just stare up at the blazing sun with a squint. They were alive- but her forearms were bleeding from the scratch and the sand crusting in her wounds weren’t helping. Had she always been this tired.

Without thinking she checked on the other men as the one was coughing up water while the other helped roll out said water from his body. She was thankful that Fortune appeared on their own volition since the hand returned once more for another chance at attack but another block and another slice into her arms was all it cost until the agent’s coughing fit siezed and they all sat waiting in anticipation for the user’s next move.

“Do you think-“

She spun her head to look at him, shooting a glaring look at him. Her head slowly shook no- hopefully they’d get the message. It seemed to go after either sound or movement. When the stupid stand went for her again she knew she had to be right on that guess somehow.

The last thing she had wanted in that moment was the sound of the buggy the others were travelling with- come to an abrupt stop as the sight of the helicopter came into view.

The second it did however, the stand receded its attack and dove into the sound.

Taking the opportunity she let Fortune pick the two Speedwagon agents up and into the helicopter. The others were already making commotion but she couldn’t think straight enough to tell them not to move.

It was only when Kakyoin became the victim of the sharp claws of the stand that her panic settled too deep into her own body that she let out a voiceless scream- covering her own mouth as the tears started flowing over her cheeks.

Not him. Not them. Me.

Without thinking she was up on her feet yelling at the others. “Get on the car and don’t make a sound! It works with one of the two to detect you.”

She ran after Polnareff as he carried Kakyoin to the car as she willed Vera to heal him but all she could manage was making the bleeding stop- at that moment- no matter how much she wished it seemed like Fortune couldn’t turn back the wound.

They had made it in the nick of time- not without Fortune tossing Vera’s jacket off her shoulders and letting the stand scratch that instead of her and Polnareff’s legs.

Avdol’s eyes widened when he saw her state and without hesitation she whispered. “I know- just cauterize it.”

Taken aback he took hold of her outstretched arms and sealed the wounds shut- Vera doing her best not to shake or twitch too much as Magician’s Red ran their clawed hands up her arms.

Shakily she slipped beside Kakyoin to try turning back his wounds again but of course it was then that the car’s nose tipped forward into the sand and started sinking.

She wanted to get up and help somehow but her limbs were too heavy and her will to weak to be able to fight him. At least the Speedwagon Foundation agents were safe atop the helicopter.

Vera’s consciousness faded- much to her own distaste. Until Avdol’s neck started bleeding and suddenly she was wide awake- bringing Fortune to stop the bleeding. The second her stand was out, Jotaro was sprinting in the opposite direction.

“Jotaro!” Her mouth moved on its own. “Stop!” Her body reignited its own vigor to run after him but Mr Joestar grabbed her wrist and held her back just as Jotaro ran off with Iggy.

“Let him handle it, Vera.”

“And let him get hurt? You’re seeing what this thing is doing?”

“We need you more, Vera.” Polnareff tried to soothe her into staying.

She didn’t wait long though- seeing him kick off with Iggy’s stand as a glider her legs moved on their own- running in the same direction before Polnareff tackled her down.

The frustration of having to will her own heavy limbs against someone else’s drove her mad. Without realizing a sob slipped from her lips as she struggled against his hesitant hold. “No! I can’t lose him! I won’t let you!”

“He can take care of himself, Vera.”

“I have to make sure! I can’t let him face this alone! I-“ the tears flowed freely. “Please, I’m not useless.”

Her body grew weak under the hold- the hot sand doing nothing to ease her panic as all she could do was wait.

They had changed the slashed tire on the car and started their way to where they could only guess Jotaro was.

Despite her racing mind she couldn’t bring herself to get up once Jotaro was in her sight, unscathed with Iggy barking at them. He came to her, however, seating himself between her and Kakyoin as they drove into Aswan.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo part 3 #jotaro kujo #noriaki kakyoin #jean pierre polnareff #muhammed avdol #fate and fortune #OC content #OC Vera #joseph joestar

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newobsessionweekly · 4 years

Text

Flirting can drive you crazy 🌿

@remainingtouch said: hey!! i wanted to request an arón imagine ((: maybe one where you two have been flirty with eachother for a while but are both too scared to admit anything but then you finally have your first kiss?? 🥺🥺 i love what you write!

a/n: I hope it’s alright. It took me like ages to finish it and I wasn’t feeling alright today so that’s it for now. But I’ll try and write some more tomorrow. Enjoy 🌿 word count: 2.730

Arón Piper x reader🌿

You met Omar in your first year of high school. He was in the same class as your best friend back then. As the first year flew by, you tear apart from your best friend, being magnetized by all the brightness Omar emanates around him. You immediately became inseparable and, in fact, he was your first boyfriend. Nothing much happened between the two of you, maybe it would have if your family wouldn’t have been forced to move in England due to your father’s job. You haven’t talked or seen him, until one day you were walking down the street and saw a promo for some spanish Netflix series. You had to stare at that photo for minutes to realise is him. You were used to him smiling, all the photos you have together, he’s only a smile, a very dynamic person. It was strange to see him frowning, with a serious, angry expression. You realised then his dream came true and you broke your promise that you will be his date to the premiere of his first important role. He has changed in better and you no doubt what a talented actor he is. You weren’t a fan of tv series and that Netflix thing you considered useless, but you immediately created an account and binged first season in one night. You searched for his number, but you realised you lost it a long time ago. So shame of you.

You were in Madrid for a week already and you just walked and visited all your favourite places. There aren’t many changes, but the city has developed so beautiful. You passed by the place where you had your first kiss with Omar and soon enough you were in front of the building he used to live. Used to live? Maybe he still lives there and you thought, why not, go and check. What could even go wrong?

As you reached the front door you realised his last name was stil on the mailbox. Your heart climb due to the excitement in your throath and you could even hear it beating. Your palms where so sweaty that you had to press the bell three times to ring properly.

“¡Tener paciencia, ya voy!” you heard a voice behind the door and bit your bottom lip, trying to hold a stupid smile.

“Sabes que no tengo paciencia.” you responded as the door opened and you can clearly seen the hansome man.

You both stared at each other maybe for too long, but you couldn’t say anything. How much time has passed? Almost five years have leacked without knowing anything about him. You had taken your time and stared at each other while from inside, curious eyes were searching the two of you. You could recognise those people, Polo, Ander, Guzmán, Nadia, Lu, this guy you didn’t remembered his name and Carla.

“¡Joder!” he was in shock. Maybe it was a bad idea to show up at his door so suddently.

“What, little star? You forgot your first girfriend?” you laughed at him as on his face started to grow an imense smile. That’s the Omar you knew and missed so much.

“You came back!” he exclaimed, opening his arms.

“And you waited!” as you jumped in his arms and welcomed his tight hug, you made eye contact with the actor that plays Ander. Joder, these people are looking even hotter in real life, starting with Omar and finishing with thig guy.

Omar invited you in and while he clossed the door, you searched the room and you found that he still has the photo with the two of you from the concert of your favourite band. Everyone was looking strangely at you until someone breake the silence.

“I tought we were supposed to be just us.” the blonde guy with a lot of freckles on his face spoke first.

“I could go and come back later if you want.” you responded, but Omar moved his hand and reduced you to silence.

“This is (y/n) and is the best friend I could ever ask for.” he smiled and everyone was looking at you, but you were hipnotised only by the curly headed one, with the brown sweet eyes and a “bad ass” expression. “And you, señorita, have the chance to meet in person the most important cast of Élite.” he was joking, of course, but presented you to everyone and you kissed cheeks with them.

“We were about to watch the second season of Élite. Wanna join? After that you could stay the night and tell me everything.” Omar rubbed your back then sat on the floor, in front of the couch. You sat beside him, and rested your head on his shoulder.

Two episodes later, you were so caught in the action that you didn’t realised your position. At some point Arón parted his legs and set a pillow between them so you could rest your head. Omar looked suspiciously at you, but why would he? He raised his eyebrow at Arón before he walked to the window and lighted a cigarette. Well you knew he was smoking in the series, but not in real life. You must admit, he looks damn hot while doing that.

“What? I saved your puta hombro! I couldn’t see properly because of her head!” you laughed at his words and stretched a little. That floor was uncomfortable.

“¡Joder! Amigos, I have a photoshoot in half an hour! I gotta go!” Miguel announced as he grabbed his stuff and ran out the door.

Danna had to leave as well because she has a date with Jorge, the one that plays Valerio. Mina, Ester and Álvaro founded excuses to leave and Iztan left after the first episode.

Just you, Omar and Arón remained and opened a bottle of wine to the all the good and the bad times you’ve been through, but without each other.

“So, England, huh? Very strange people those britains.” Arón smiled before he took a sip from the red vine.

“They are, indeed! I couldn’t stand them anymore. I dropped Oxford and came back home!” you proudly answered the unspoken question.

“You dropped Oxford?” Omar asked you, visibly shocked. “That was your dream!”

“Are you nuts or something?” Arón asked then turned to Omar “¿Está loca?”

“I’m not crazy, thank you very much. But I’m home sick, alright? Even though I had my parents there, I couldn’t fit in. My heart was in Spain and I just couldn’t leave all my life here like it never happened.”

“Speaking of, you remember that bar you liked very much but closed after the end of the ninth grade?” you nodded. “It opened a few months ago and it’s magnificent!” you missed that apartament, you missed the round table, you missed the urban agglomeration and hearing Omar speaking spanish. Right now it felt like heaven.

“We should totally go there, like the old times!” you used to go there every day, eat a lot of fried potatoes and talk for hours about everything and nothing actually.

“Totally. Also, there’s a new coffee shop that I think you would adore. She’s an coffee addict.” Omar informed Arón laughing.

“Where is it?” your eyes shined. You indeed liked coffee very much.

“I can actually show you. Are you free tomorrow?” the voice came from Arón and it was unexpected.

“Are you asking me out?” you had a devilish smile on your face.

“For God sake, you women! No, don’t get too excited. I’ll get you to drink the best coffee of your life! This place beats Starbucks’ ass so bad!” he seemd into this subject, maybe you had some things in common.

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As you established, the next day at noon Arón was there waiting for you. You stared too many minutes inside your closet, nothing seemd suitable for this date. Is it a date? Well, the other day you definetly flirted with each other. Omar told you he never saw Arón this way. You could say he’s an introvert, and a little shy, but did a brave move. When you finally picked a blue flourished dress, was already three minutes after the hour you decided to left home and get there in time. And because you put make up on and erased it two times made thirty minutes fly away. So when you left, you were already 5 minutes late.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, I overslept!” you lied, of course. You didn’t want him to believe you get over your head because of this meeting.

“For a moment I thought you won’t show up.” he let the smoke come out from him moth as he extinguished his cigarette. You found him standing at a table outside, scrolling through his phone. He was wearing something simple, a t-shirt and some blue jeans, but he managed to look incredible. Even God love’s what is beautiful. You could tell this man is kissed by the Aphrodite, the Goddess of beauty herself. ”All these insecurities are from that german blood? Because I know something about spanish people, we are damn confident! And people of word!” you sat down afront him and let your phone on the table.

“Someone did some research, I see.” in fact you did some research and stalked him on Instagram.

“How could I not? You are a hard to forget type! Anyway I couldn’t find much about you, only unnecessarily basics.” you were honest, because you are trying to gain his trust and friendship.

“I think we are on the same page here. All I know is your name and that you are a damn confident and direct person. Oh, and a woman of word, of course.” The waiter came with your orders and interrupted your conversation, but as he moved around you, clearing the ashtray for Arón, you were looking into the menu considering ordering maybe a muffin. But when you looked up,the waiter was already gone, and Arón was looking at you.

“I’m starting to think you’re obsessed with me.” you breake the silence, but never look away from his side.

“In that outfit, who wouldn’t be?” he winked at you.

“So you that’s how you addmit you were staring at me?” you caught his sight while you bit your bottom lip and did’t retire.

“Well, you obviously caught me doing that, but guess what, you were staring too.” his tongue override his lips. That was true, both of you were staring at eatch other, but how could you not stare at this handsome man? He stretched his back to get you back from your thoughts before he spoke. “There’s a small party saturday at some club in the centre, maybe I’ll see you there. Now, I’m sorry, but I have to go for a shooting.” he grabbed his phone and got up, but before he passed you stopped. You stood up as well and he initiate a hug. You were surprised, but when he whispered “It was nice to see you, beautiful!” you frozed. That was so nice of him, shame of you because you couldn’t say a thing. -------- Saturday you spent almost all day figuring out what you should wear and what kind of party is that. Two days ago you spent with Omar his birthday and had so much fun together. You haven’t told him about Arón’s invitation, however without telling him much about what happened, he still gave you strange looks. So this time you made sure to left the house and get there in time. You knew the club, but you didn’t knew how to find him, thus you find your way through the entrance where you find a man. “Name.” he said warely. You frowned. Was that a joke? Maybe Arón made fun of you and invited you to some party where couldn’t even get passed the door. The anger started to spread into your body along with the cold. Though Spain is a warm country is still spring and the nights are still not warm enough.

“(y/n)” you responded. “Arón Piper knows I’m coming.” you thought the best option was to say the name of someone famous. “I mean, he doesn’t know I’m coming, but he invited me.” you begin to stutter and say nonsenses. “Sure... wait a minute.” he was suspicious, you can tell. After he came back, he wasn’t alone. Arón followed the man outside and he faced a bright smile at the sight of you. “You came!” he grabbed your hand and he led you to a table where everyone was looking strangely at you. Just as the first time. The only difference is that you knew their name this time.

“¡Hola!” you smiled at them wile you sat down next to Omar.

“What are you doing here?” he’s doesn’t mean to be rude, but it was a surprise for him to see you there. A good one.

“Arón invited me.” you shrugged.

“Strange, he didn’t mention a thing though. He’s kinda reserved when it comes to private things, like his birthday.” ha looked at you then sip from his cocktail.

“Yeah, he is very reserved.” you mumbled.

The fact that Arón didn’t tell you it was his birthday, made you uncomfortable. You shouldn’t be here. As Omar said, he is very reserved and a birthday party is for family and friends, and you were none of them. You searched the room and found Arón coming towards the table. You stood up quickly and stopped him.

“Why haven’t you told me is your birthday?” you confronted him.

“Well hello, Beautiful. What’s with that frowning?” he ignored your question as he handed you a drink.

“I didn’t get you anything!” you insisted. Well, actually he didn’t need anything from you because he can buys himself more than you could ever thought of. He put his drink and yours on the table then reached for you hand.

“That’s fine because I just need one thing from you.” he made his way towards the dance floor, still holding your hand.

What would he possibly need from you? You had milions of thoughts and questions running through your mind, but he erased them all when he grabbed your waist and urged you to do the same.

“You look very beautiful tonight.” he screamed over the music, before you could tell anything.

“You didn’t look bad yourself!” you smiled at him. Arón was stearing at your lips as you talked. “So what was that thing you needed?”

“Kiss me.” that came out of nowhere, he knew that too.

“What?”

“Kiss me, hermosa!”

You looked him questioning all the posibilities. He’s trying to make fun of you right now? Does he really want that? As you got stuck on your mind, he leaned towards you, but you could tell he’s too afraid to do something. You both stood there in the middle of the dance floor with your foreheads pressed and with eyes closed.

“You know,” he started and you smelled some cigarette mixed with alcohol and mint. It doesn’t smell bad at all. “I am very good at flirting, that’s why I’m so confident doing that,” you couldn’t agree more. You observed that, he’s a cocky guy when it comes to the things that he’s good at, and ¡Joder! he’s good at many things. “But when it comes to kiss a pretty girl, it’s more complicated, you know. I’m afraid not to mess things up.”

He’s talking nonsense. You rubbed you nose to his and made the bravest move you’ve ever done. You pressed your lips to his and smiled. He smiled too and kissed with so much desire, you were shocked. He’s a very sweet person when he’s not wearing that “bad ass” attitude. As you distanced from the kiss, he looked deeply in your eyes.

“I wanted to do that since the day one.” he laughed a little and smiled at you. He admired you on the dance floor long enough then he went for the drinks you abandoned on the table. Arón was the life of the party all night. He danced, he sang and was so happy, that you couldn’t stop smiling. You had the chance to met this amazing man and even kiss him, you were indeed grateful. Omar stood by your side and glanced at you two all night, but he was happy too.

#elite #omar #aron #aron piper #aron x reader #aron piper imagine #aron piper x reader #elite fan #netflix #omar ayuso #aron imagine #elite netflix

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mcnamaste · 3 years

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Task 001: Character Playlist.

Another case of Affluenza - a Dylan McNamara playlist

Snippets of Lyrics below:

Side A + Dylan’s vibe

1. all in my head (flex) - Fifth Harmony feat. Fetty Wap

Flex, time to impress Come and climb in my bed Don't be shy, do your thing It's all in my head

fun fact - the original song that they sampled this chorus from actually goes like this:

Girl flex, time to have sex Long time yuh have di rude bwoy yah a sweat Girl, flex time to have sex Look how long yuh have di rude bwoy a sweat

thanks for coming to my ted talk

2. ain’t my fault - zara larsson

It ain't my fault you keep turnin' me on It ain't my fault you got, got me so gone It ain't my fault I'm not leavin' alone It ain't my fault you keep turnin' me on I can't talk right now I'm lookin' and I like what I'm seein' Got me feelin' kinda shocked right now Couldn't stop right now Even if I wanted, gotta get it, get it, get it, when it's hot right now Oh my god, what is this? Want you all in my business Baby, I insist Please don't blame me for whatever happens next

3. sugar - Maroon 5

I'm hurting baby, I'm broken down I need your loving, loving I need it now When I'm without you, I'm something weak You got me begging, begging I'm on my knees

4. stupid love - Lady Gaga

You're the one that I've been waiting for Gotta quit this cryin', nobody's gonna Heal me if I don't open the door Kinda hard to believe, gotta have faith in me

5. desperado - Rihanna

If you want, we can be runaways Running from any sight of love Yeah, yeah, there ain’t nothin' There ain't nothin' here for me There ain't nothin' here for me anymore But I don't wanna be alone

6. pray for me - The Weeknd, Kendrick Lamar

I'm always ready for a war again Go down that road again It's all the same I'm always ready to take a life again You know I'll ride again It's all the same (Ooh, ooh, ooh) Tell me who's gon' save me from myself When this life is all I know Tell me who's gon' save me from this hell Without you, I'm all alone

Who gon' pray for me? Take my pain for me? Save my soul for me? 'Cause I'm alone, you see If I'm gon' die for you If I'm gon' kill for you Then I spilled this blood for you, hey

7. 24k magic - Bruno Mars Pop pop, it's show time (Show time) Show time (Show time) Guess who's back again? Oh they don't know? (Go on tell 'em) Oh they don't know? (Go on tell 'em) I bet they know soon as we walk in (Showin' up) Wearing Cuban links (ya) Designer minks (ya) Inglewood's finest shoes (Whoop, whoop) Don't look too hard Might hurt ya'self Known to give the color red the blues

Ooh shit, I'm a dangerous man with some money in my pocket (Keep up) So many pretty girls around me and they waking up the rocket (Keep up) Why you mad? Fix ya face Ain't my fault y'all be jocking (Keep up)

8. bed - J. Holiday

Wanna put my fingers through your hair Wrap me up in your legs And love you till your eyes roll back I'm tryna put you to bed, bed, bed I'mma put you to bed, bed, bed Then I'mma rock ya body Turn you over Love is war, I'm your soldier Touchin' you like it's our first time I'mma put you to bed, bed, bed I'mma put you to bed, bed, bed

9. don’t judge me - Janelle Monáe

Even though you tell me you love me I'm afraid that you just love my disguise Taste my fears and light your candle to my raging fire Of broken desire

But don't judge me I know I got issues, but they drown when I kiss you Don't judge me Baptize me with ocean, recognize my devotion

10. the greatest - Sia

I'm free to be the greatest, I'm alive I'm free to be the greatest here tonight, the greatest The greatest, the greatest alive

11. love in this club - Usher feat. Young Jeezy

You say you're searching for somebody that'll take you out and do you right Well, come here, baby and let daddy show you what it feel like You know all you got to do is tell me what you sipping on And I promise that I'm gonna keep it coming all night long

12. u don't have to call - Usher

Aw, girl, your face is saying, "Why?" Tears in eyes Should've been more smart about it Should've cherished me, listening to friends Now it's the end And again, no story can end without it

Side B + Annalise Young (Infidelity & Divorce)

1. forgive me - Chloe x Halle

Baby, what you think this is? Why you wanna plead the fifth? You ain't gotta tell me what it is 'Cause I saw the messages You must got me fucked up You must got me fucked up I think I had enough

So forgive me, forgive me I been goin' too hard in your city So forgive me 'cause I'm not teary Best believe I'll move onto better things

2. makes me wonder - Maroon 5

Wake up, blood-shot eye Struggle to memorize The way it felt between your thighs Pleasure that made you cry It feels so good to be bad Not worth the aftermath, after that, after that Try to get you back

I still don't have a reason And you don't have the time And it really makes me wonder if I ever gave a fuck about you

3. maps - Maroon 5

I miss the taste of a sweeter life I miss the conversation I'm searching for a song tonight I'm changing all of the stations I like to think that we had it all We drew a map to a better place But on that road I took a fall Oh, baby, why did you run away?

I was there for you In your darkest times I was there for you In your darkest night

But I wonder, where were you? When I was at my worst Down on my knees And you said you had my back So I wonder, where were you?

4. mend this love - Vaults

Take me from the edge Steal a step and lead me back from harm Hold it in your hand Crush it into crumbs like nothing's wrong

And tell me "right what you wanna know? Take what you wanna hide It's too late to mend this love" And tell me "go where you wanna go Break what you never had It's too late to mend this love"

5. wicked game - Chris Isaak

The world was on fire and no one could save me but you It's strange what desire will make foolish people do I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you

No, I don't wanna fall in love (This world is only gonna break your heart)

6. love’s divine - Seal

Then the rainstorm came over me And I felt my spirit break I had lost all of my belief, you see And realized my mistake But time threw a prayer to me And all around me became stil

7. beautiful mistakes - Maroon 5 & Megan Thee Stallion

It's beautiful, it's bittersweet You're like a broken home to me I take a shot of memories And black out like an empty street I fill my days with the way you walk And fill my nights with broken dreams I make up lies inside my head Like one day you'll come back to me

8. i’m not the only one - Sam Smith feat. A$AP Rocky

You and me, we made a vow For better or for worse I can't believe you let me down But the proof's in the way it hurts For months on end I've had my doubts Denying every tear I wish this would be over now But I know that I still need you here

You say I'm crazy 'Cause you don't think I know what you've done But when you call me baby I know I'm not the only one

9. perfect illusion - Lady Gaga

I don't need eyes to see I felt you touchin' me High like amphetamine Maybe you're just a dream That's what it means to crush Now that I'm wakin' up I still feel the blow But at least now I know

It wasn't love, it wasn't love It was a perfect illusion (Perfect illusion) Mistaken for love, it wasn't love It was a perfect illusion (Perfect illusion)

10. don’t walk away - John Legend feat. Koffee

We can't go out like this It's just the two of us We should be making up We could be making love Didn't  used to talk like this Now you say you're giving up Took too much to build this house I don't wanna sit and watch it burn down I ain't leaving, I ain't leaving, I ain't leaving, I ain't giving you space I will not be replaced I don't wanna save face Don't leave me open, leave me open, leave me open, leave me open like that Whatever love we had We need to get it back

11. if I could have you back - Aly & AJ

On the subject of you being gone forever I still can't believe it, I can't see it I should just stop counting days On the subject of the future Wouldn't it be nice to leave it open ended And pretend it could go either way

If I could have you back again I'd think about it once or twice, I guess If I could have you back I'd reconsider, maybe I'd say yes On the other hand, it would be better to have a life Without the constant indecision over If I could have you back If I could have you back

12. fairplay - Kiana Ledé

I think it's kind of funny You could say you love me Turn around and play me, yeah I think it's kind of funny You say things you don't mean Underestimate me, yeah

I have always done right by you Said you're never going to lie, liar Shit gon' come around full cycle I flip the script on you

Tell me why you mad Tell me why you're hurt Bet you didn't think that the tables would turn You gon' fuck around I'ma do the same How you like that karma? How you like that karma? Yeah, that's just fair play

Bonus:

busted - The Isley Brothers feat. JS

Busted, It's 2 o' damn clock in the morning, where you been? (Baby didn't you get my 2-way I was with my girlfriend) You are lyin', I called Kiesha and Tanya And they were both at home (But I didn't say them though) Well they're the only friends I know Girl you better (Wait before you get all upset here's the truth) Talk to me (I was with my girl when she got some bad news) And...? (Her man cheated, had her upset and confused) But baby what's that got to do With you coming in at 2? (I'm telling you, now she was so upset She asked me to stay with her) Well why didn't your ass just pick up the phone and call me? (I was gonna do that but it slipped my mind I'm sorry) (But I'm telling you the truth) Yeah, well I got something for you... Tell me what's her name? (Sharon) Where does she live? (Uuummm...) Her man's name? (Billy) She got kids? (I think one or two) She got kids? (Baby yes, no) That's one thing I got to know How the hell is she your friend If you don't know if she got kids?

#darkesttask1 #( tasks. )#( dossier. )#dylan/annalise

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spectraspecs-writes · 3 years

Text

Korriban - Chapter 94

Link to the masterpost. Chapter 93. Chapter 95.

@averruncusho @ceruleanrainblues @chubbsmomma @strangepostmiracle thank you for reading, you get a tag. @skelelexiunderlord thank you for support, you get a tag.

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This tomb looks significantly newer than Ajunta Pall’s, and there’s text that I can actually read so it must be recent enough. It’s not Galactic Basic, but it’s not some long-dead language, either. This is the tomb of Tulak Hord, a lightsaber specialist by the look of it. So definitely more recent than Ajunta Pall, who didn’t have a lightsaber. This is the tomb where I met Lashowe, though, that’s going to have consequences as far as the tuk’ata population is concerned. Without the matriarch, there may be infighting to establish a new matriarch, or a daughter may have stepped up that isn’t fit to rule the pack. In an ideal world the pack would just go on as normal but when is it ever an ideal world?

This tomb is a little brighter than Ajunta Pall’s, but still pretty dark. There’s more to it, too - Ajunta Pall’s was a straight shot with a trick along the way. This tomb is from a different era, and relies on twists and turns as well as tricks to keep looters at bay. But we are not the first to proceed this way, and a bit of a trail has been marked by dark splotches on the walls. No, they’re not blood - even if the Sith were that weird, you’d have to carry the blood through the tomb and that would drive the tuk’ata nuts. That’s a death wish kind of thing to do. But the splotches are high enough on the wall that the tuk’ata couldn’t reach, and too regular to be natural. I can handle if it’s a trap of some kind.

The tuk’ata are not composed at all, which is what I expected. When we run across a few, they don’t attack in a uniform fashion. It’s sloppy, uncoordinated, and they don’t attack as a unit. Damn you, Lashowe, you ruined the pack dynamics. Most of them I can just scare off, but we do have to kill a few along the route marked off for us.

The route dead ends near an ancient console, sort of like the ones in the ruins on Dantooine. They said the Star Map was in Naga Sadow’s tomb, so what is this doing here? I hit a button. It still works and it displays in Basic. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Jolee says.

“Yeah, me too,” I say, “but I think we can get ourselves out of any trouble.” I use the console to open the door.

“I dread the day you’re wrong about that.”

“Yeah, me too.”

We step through and are met with another closed door as the one behind us closes. Something… smells awful. Is the room spinning? Oh, shit, poison gas. Carth… is Carth okay?

Jesus, that knocked the wind out of me. I feel like there’s a Reek sitting on my chest. I try to look around. I’m not in the chamber anymore. Looks like the crypt. Carth - where’s Carth? He’s still out cold. Jolee’s conscious but pretending he’s not. Which he would only do if he got some benefit out of it. Something smells again. But not like poison, more like sweat. Someone here has not bathed in days, minimum, and it’s none of us.

“Awake already, are you?” Sounds like a kookier old man than Jolee, who I can actually hear huff in my head. Ah, he knows I love him. “Good!” I try to get a better look at this crusty old dude. He’s got the same grayish skin as Master Uthar, but way more crazed. “This is the tomb of Sith Lord Tulak Hord, if you don't know. I've taken up residence here, for now… it's dusty and full of critters, but it's home.”

I try and fail to sit up a bit. “Not that I don’t get the sentiment, because I would love to swap stories about dusty critter homes, but who are you and why the hell am I here?”

“Ah, yes!” he exclaims, “Introductions of course! I suppose it is time, isn't it?” Anyone like this who hasn’t had twelve cups of caff is certifiably cuckoo for Core Puffs. (Hell, even if you have had twelve cups of caff, I’d still be worried about you being a responsible adult alone.) “This other student here that I captured earlier you should know well enough. His name is Mekel. Say hello, Mekel.”

God, he looks awful! He tries to mumble something at me but can’t. From what I can tell he’s got loads of fresh electrical scarring, and I don’t think he got it playing with wires. “Poor lad,” the kook says with mock sympathy, “He's had a hard day. My name is Jorak Uln. I was once the head of the academy, so I'm sure you've heard of me.”

“Yeah, I heard you went nuts and ran for the hills.”

He blusters and can’t managed to get a single comprehensible word out, except for “stupid Uthar”, before moving on. “Anyway…” he says, trying not to release his anger on me yet, “I'd like to propose that we move onto the main event. You see, I'd like to discover if you've got the pluck of an old-fashioned Sith. Most of the drek Uthar has been passing through these days is so pathetic. Take young Mekel here… I already tested him. Didn't I, Mekel?” Mekel mumbles again, and Jorak Uln laughs. “Yes, yes, you're welcome. You see, Mekel here has the cruel disposition of a Sith,” - which doesn’t surprise me - “but not the gumption that I'm looking for.”

Well, he’s definitely lost it, and needs clinical help finding it. But that’s not going to get me out of here. “So what happens if I pass your test?”

“Why, then, you go free!” Bingo! “Tell you what… I'll even pass onto you my own personal thesis on ancient Sith philosophies. They're based on all I've learned studying Tulak's tomb. It'll make you a better Sith, I'm sure.” Which is not something I’m looking for. “The chances of you passing, however, are sadly remote.”

I like my chances, actually. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Now, now, is that any kind of attitude to take with higher education?” In my experience, yes. “I'm doing you a favor, really. So, then! This is how it goes: I'm going to pose a moral question to you. Get it right, and I torture Mekel. Get it wrong, and I torture you.” You can’t answer a moral question right or wrong, they’re opinions. But you know what, I don’t think that concerns him. “Mekel, here, is a bit weak… he probably won't be able to take much more punishment.” No, that’s some bad scarring, like “seek help now” scarring. “Mind you… get too many wrong and you'll die, yourself.” I’ve got a pretty high tolerance for electricity like that, but if it’s anything like how I was shocked earlier… I don’t want that again. But I can’t kill Mekel, either. He’s trash, sure, but he’s young trash. He could grow out of his trashiness if he’s given a push in the right direction. “I don't know what you think of Mekel. Maybe you don't like him. Maybe you think he deserves to be murdered? Well, here's your chance. Fair enough?” Okay, I can take some damage, how much can Mekel take? Trying to calculate all this in my head, work out my angles. When I don’t respond, Jorak Uln talks again. “Well, then! Any last comments before we begin, Mekel?”

Mekel looks over at me, he can see the wheels turning in my head. He grunts and says, “We can... both survive... attack him together!”

“Now, now, dear lad,” Uln says, “Do you really think your friend here will answer questions wrong just to spare little you, risking her own life? And how many correctly-answered questions before you die, hmmm? No, don't be silly… you had your chance, remember? On that note, let's begin!

“Now, then. Your immediate superior amongst the Sith is an effective commander and a fine leader. He trusts you and you like him. You see an opportunity to kill him. What do you do?”

A Sith would answer that they’d kill him and take power. But I have to be strategic about this to get both of us out alive. Let’s answer this one honestly. “I do nothing. He’s a good leader.”

“Incorrect!” Yeah, I know. “What sort of thinking is that? If all the Sith thought as you did, we would all be soft like the Jedi.” You’d also have a military that wasn’t built on fear and cruelty, but that must be too much to ask. “Ah, well. It is time for your punishment.” Oh, good God! Fuck!

But it’s over quick enough, thankfully, and he moves on to the next question. “And so we come to round two. You come across a group of humans who are threatened by dangerous animals. They plead for help, offering you a reward. What do you do?”

Hell, I’d help them without a reward. A Sith would take the reward and leave them. But I need a breather before I get shocked again. I give Mekel an apologetic look before I answer. “I take the reward and leave them to die.”

“Correct! The humans would no doubt just be preyed upon by something else, later.” Assuming I just left them. “Stand up for yourself, I say! We're not Jedi shepherds, after all.” He looks at Mekel. “Sadly, Mekel, the ingenuity of your fellow student is your loss. This is going to hurt.” Even as Mekel writhes in pain, I can’t help but be grateful it isn’t me. Even as his skin breaks and more scars ripple across.

Third question. “Let's see… ah, yes. You discover an aspect of the Force that gives you great power. Do you share it and strengthen the Sith as a whole or keep it to yourself?”

A Sith answer, as well as a scout’s answer, is to keep it to yourself. You always keep an advantage to keep yourself afloat at the end. For me it’s a hot springs on Utapau. The people there are fair traders and welcoming of outsiders, soil is rocky in a lot of places but they’ve spent millennia farming there so they know what they’re doing. Wildlife is stunning. I figured it would be a good place to settle when I couldn’t scout anymore. I guess for a Force user, a new power would be just as valuable. But I think Mekel needs a breather now. I don’t want to give it to him. But who am I if I let him die? “I share it,” I say finally.

“You gained an advantage and you share it freely?!” Dude, shut up. “Let them rip the secret from my dead hands, I say!” I plan to. “I mean... 'share it'?! Are you mad?!” He sighs. “Well, you did ask for this. It's for your own good.” Holy hell, I hate this! What the shit have I gotten myself into?

God, I need a break. “Still going?” Man, shut the hell up. “Alright, then. One of your underlings has made a major mistake which makes you look bad. He is normally very competent and skilled. Do you kill him or give him another chance?”

Personally I’d let him live. Let him learn. A Sith would kill him without a thought. And I don’t want to get hit again. Not so soon. “Kill him,” I say.

“Correct!” he exclaims. “Publicly, if you can. There is no room for that level of failure.” Dude, you’re the one living in a crypt, don’t lecture me about failure. “Not killing him would be seen as a sign of weakness... and then where would you be?” He turns to Mekel. “Ahhh, Mekel. The time has come once again, hasn't it?” Lightning shoots from his fingers again.

“Last question!” Oh, thank fuck. “You're about to die. Do you pass on your knowledge to your apprentice to make him stronger… or do you use your last breath to strike at your enemies?”

Just when I think the answer to this isn’t obvious, it comes to me: A true Sith never dies. Like… is that metaphorical, like how people still remember Ajunta Pall, or is that literal in the sense that Ajunta Pall wasn’t exactly dead? Or could it be both at once? Is Tulak Hord floating from room to room? Is there an ancient Sith no one remembers who’s haunting some cantina or something? And what does “true Sith” mean, anyway? What happens to a “false” Sith? Where did that answer even come from?

Either way, Mekel looks awful. I don’t think he’ll survive another right answer. I may hate it but I’ve still got a few wrong answers in me, and if this is the last question, then I’ll be okay. “I pass on my knowledge.”

Jorak Uln giggles excitedly. “Fool! It is a trick question! A true Sith never dies!!” You mean I was right? He laughs again. “I'll enjoy this one. Time for your medicine!” Shit shit! It’s okay, Rena, just lie back and think of droids, they always apologize for shocking you!

He gives me a moment to breathe. But it’s not a kindness. “Now, this is odd,” he says, “The test is over and you're both still alive. Well that's never happened before. Hmmmn…” Jolee shifts a bit. Carth is conscious now and even though Jolee has healed him both are still playing dead for now. “What to do, what to do…” Uln ponders, “I suppose this means you can go, Mekel.” He releases him from his grip. “I'll have to just figure out what to do with our friend, here. Run along, now.”

“Or…” Mekel says slowly, “… or I could use the Force to free her! And we could kill you!!” I feel Uln’s grip on me slacken and finally break. My legs feel jellied but I can still stand, and I pull out my lightsabers. I reach out with the Force and exhaust it to heal Mekel and myself. I hope Jolee saved some energy because we're both still only at half strength. “Seems you didn't think of that, old man!!”

“What?!” Uln exclaims, “Mutiny! Behave, students! I'll…!” Now Jolee reaches out to both of us, and I can stand on my legs again. Mekel’s scarring closes over. Carth jumps to his feet and pulls Jolee up. And now Uln loses the little he had left. “That's it! Detention for all of you! Permanent detention!!”

Uln activates his double-bladed lightsaber, but I’ve got my two out and Mekel has his as well. None of us have any Force left, but neither does Uln, which evens it out a bit. Uln focuses on Mekel, which means I can fight dirty from behind if I avoid the other end of his lightsaber. No one gives me electrical scarring if they don’t apologize afterwards. If he were a droid who didn’t apologize, well, I’d get to retune his power core, which can be unpleasant for the droid. People don’t have power cores, so I guess I have to just beat him senseless. Mekel pushes him backwards onto uneven footing. I sweep his legs out from under him and he falls over. Without missing a beat, Mekel runs him through.

He stands over him and laughs ironically. “What do you know?” he says, “I guess he wasn't a 'true Sith' after all.” He sighs and relaxes. “I can't believe that I'm alive,” he says, “You saved me… you could have easily just answered those questions and let me die. You knew the answers, I could tell, I could see you mulling it over.”

“Nobody deserves to die like that,” I say firmly, “There is no universe in which I left you to die.”

He takes a second to reflect. “Yeah, well…” he says thoughtfully, “… I see what you mean. I’ve never… I mean, I've never been on that side of the fence before. It makes you think. I'd be dead if you weren't…” He stops again, like he’s correcting himself. “… I mean, if you were a proper Sith. But you're not, are you? Don't worry… I won't tell anyone.”

“Frankly, I wasn’t worried, but thank you, anyway,” I say. He’s still quite pensive. “Seems to me like you’ve got a lot on your mind, a lot of thinking to do.” He looks at me wordlessly. “I get the impression you don't want to be a ‘true Sith’ like Uln. You’ve just got some crap to work through. There’s better places to work through it.”

“You mean… the light side?” he says softly, “I've never thought about that. Can you… can you even go back? I've done some… I mean, I've hurt a lot of people.”

“There's always remorse,” Jolee says, “And atonement. That's the harder path, though, boy. Think you can do that?”

“I…” he says nervously, “I don't think the light side is for me. But… maybe neither are the Sith. Maybe it's time for me to leave.”

I take a deep breath. “I can’t believe I’m saying this,” I say, “but have you thought about Czerka?”

Mekel scoffs. “Hell, no. Fuck Czerka.”

“Thank you!” I say, and we share a grin. “Well,” I say, “good luck wherever you end up.”

“To you, as well,” he says, “And… thank you.” He walks away, following the splotches on the wall to the exit.

Jorak Uln did a poor job of hiding his thesis. The ancient stone tablet is resting on the tomb of Tulak Hord, right out in the open. It’s not as heavy as it looks, but I am positively worn out, so Carth carries it for me out of the tomb. “So,” he asks me, “are you going to bother with any more tombs?”

“Hell, no, I’m not doing anything else today except relax with that bottle of Tarisian ale on the ship, I am exhausted.”

“I had hoped to save that till the end of the war,” he says, “but I think you’ve earned it now. But that wasn’t what I meant.” I look at him curiously. “By my count all of the other hopefuls are gone. Mekel just left, Lashowe’s dead, we’ll find out about Shaardan soon enough. Whether you’ve earned enough prestige or not, there isn’t exactly anyone left to oppose you.”

“You sound like you’ve got something in mind,” I say.

He shrugs sheepishly. “Well,” he says slowly, “I guess I’d… like to join you for that drink, if you don’t mind.”

This is a hell of a time to ask me out. Not that I’m complaining. “I’d like that,” I say.

He tries very hard not to beam. God, he’s adorable.

-----

Shaardan is dead at Master Uthar’s feet. Frankly I’m surprised nobody’s moved the body yet. “Master Uthar!” I call to get his attention, and he turns to me. “I have a tablet written by Jorak Uln.” Carth hands it off to him.

Uthar looks surprised. “It appears my old master was busy studying the writings in one of the tombs. How interesting.” He glances at me. “I do hope you had to pry this from his dead fingers.” Not exactly. “Regardless, you have impressed me with your worthy act.” He looks directly at me now. “Even if you were not the sole remaining hopeful, you have impressed me enough, by my estimation, to become a Sith in full. Congratulations, young one… you have bested the others quite completely, in more ways than one I’m sure. You have but one final test which you must take, and this requires us to travel to the tomb of Naga Sadow in the Valley of the Dark Lords. I would advise you to be rested and equipped before we leave. Return to your quarters now and seek me out in the morning.”

“My ship is still docked in Dreshdae,” I say, “Do you have any objection if I got there instead?”

“Go where you choose. But when you return, make sure that you have all that you will need… for you will face your test alone. Go, and may the Force serve you well.”

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beginagainbugle · 4 years

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What: Erik sits with The Daily Planet for an interview about Genosha: who they are, what their government is like, their hopes for the future. Tagging: Erik Lehnsherr ( @master-of-magnetism ) & Kara Danvers ( @maidenxfmight ) Warnings: Holocaust mention, genocide mention, death mention, injury mention

KARA: “You ready?”

Was she? Kara’s jaw hurt from how hard her teeth had been clenched. The notes on her page seemed to jump off, the contrast too high. There was too much noise. The cameraman’s heartbeat pounded like a drum against the inside of her skull. She’d rather be home, tucked under her blankets with her ear-muffs on. Room dark.

“Yeah, I’m ready.” If she tilted her glasses down, she could see him. If she cared less, she could fry through the wall that separated them. Someone said ‘bring him in’ and Kara pushed her glasses up her nose.

ERIK: This, he’d expected. The world had turned upside down over one long weekend, and everyone was still trying to make sense of it all. There were mixed responses to the change of status quo, thus far, and news organizations had been clamoring for a word from the leader of the world’s newest sovereign state.

If Erik had his way, he’d be there now, but it was important to go through the motions this early on. It was strange but freeing to be able to walk the streets of New York without concealing himself.

The producers were chatting at him now, presumably trying to prep him, but Erik was more focused on trying not to smack at the hand of the makeup artist tapping powder on his face. As it turned out, he didn’t have to–she was brushed aside by the producer, who had one hand pressed to his earpiece. “Right through here.”

It was Kara. Because of course it was. He knew, he’d been prepped, but his ribs still twinged slightly at the memory of the last time he’d seen her. Even so, he plastered on a cool smile, settling himself into the chair opposite her. “Ms. Danvers.”

KARA: She waited until he was seated across from her before meeting his eyes. She looked at the set of the cameras, the rug beneath their feet, the small coffee table with the obligatory glasses of water that sat on top, him. He looked the same, and her heart moved double-time in her chest. Rao, she didn’t want this.

But she kept her gaze firm, and she refused to back down. He’d told her to embrace her anger, and she was learning. She found a polite smile for the sake of manners, and the camera crew around them. “Mr. Lehnsherr. Shall we get right to it?”

The less time she spent with him, the better. She gave a nod to the cameraman, keeping Erik in her periphery as she watched him count down. “Welcome, ladies and gentleman, to another Daily Planet exclusive. Today we’ll be talking with Erik Lehnsherr about his recent acquisition of Genosha. He has been a vocal proponent of mutant rights for years; a war that only last week ended in a showdown with government authorities. Mr. Lehnsherr, thank you for coming in today.”

ERIK: The cast of her eyes made something between his still-sore ribs and his stomach twist itself into knots. She glanced around the studio, eyes cutting back to him every few moments, and Erik knew intimately that particular sort of wariness. The importance of keeping eyes on a threat without making eye contact and risking the response to that. He could feel the way her heartbeat sped up in her chest, even behind the carefully maintained mask of neutral interest.

She had almost killed him. Could, still, if it came to it. And yet she was afraid. Furious, too, since the heat in her eyes was only just banked, but he knew the signs of fear nevertheless. (She was looking at him like he’d once looked at Schmidt, and he wasn’t… he wasn’t like that. Was he?)

Erik looked away for a moment, shoved whatever that was squarely back into its box. Now was not the time. (Never was preferable.) Focus on Genosha. Only Genosha. Not Kara, not Raven, and definitely not Schmidt.

And then the cameraman was counting down, and Erik plastered back on a cool smile, watching the camera light flick from red to green. Compartmentalization. He settled back in his seat, demeanour shifting into the suave steadiness Kara had become acquainted with in the Before. “It’s my pleasure, Ms. Danvers. The world has changed very quickly, in the last few weeks, for everyone, and I’m honored to help provide what I can of clarity and perspective.”

KARA: “I’m sure our viewers would love some of both.” Kara’s fingers ran over her edges of her notebook. He looked as comfortable in the hot seat as he had in that alley, with a cigarette held loose in his fingers and fire dancing in his eyes. She had to remind herself this was a job, just a job.

She loved what she did, truly. Journalism hadn’t only been about following in Clark’s footsteps, it had been about sharing the truth. Her own planet had died, and everyone she knew along with it, because her parents had kept the truth to themselves. She wondered what truth she was trying to expose here. Genosha wasn’t only for Erik. It was for Scott, for Jean and Gabby and Lorna. Twisting it for them wouldn’t actually help.

Her own feelings didn’t matter, and she tamped them down as best she could. Even when her skin crawled, even when her heart hammered out of her chest.

“Let’s start with your vision for Genosha. It’s obviously new, and will have much growing to do. Tell us about it now, and where do you see it going in the future?”

ERIK: The mention of Genosha made the smile a bit easier, a bit more genuine. He was proud of what they’d accomplished, proud to be able to talk about it.

“My vision is, and always has been, a place where mutantkind can be safe from the oppression we’ve faced for so long in human societies. I lived in Israel for some time, many decades ago, and I quite took to the idea of creating a space where a people that had been roundly oppressed on a global basis could live freely in close community with their own kin. That’s why we offered mutants, and by-birth metahumans, automatic citizenship eligibility. And the island is coming along well, so far. We have a diverse set of mutants on the island who are willing and able to help shape our peoples’ new homeland. There are teams dedicated to terraforming the island and fostering fauna growth, teams dedicated to construction, and then, of course, the Council, led by myself, that will be shaping our national policies. We’ve been able to swiftly secure resources and funding for business growth. In the meantime, transportation between New York City and Genosha is easy–all that’s required is a security check at the border.”

KARA: It had always been hard to argue with Erik. His history had more than earned him the right to his anger, and his love for his people shone through in every word he said. She thought of Jason, and blacks and whites, and all those grey areas in between. What happened to her felt so black and white, wrong, but Erik saw more shades of grey than she did.

Her hands skimmed over her notebook, a movement she worked hard to quell, and her eyes never left Erik. “An admirable vision.” More than a vision, a reality literally growing not too far from where they sat. There was a notable enough pause between one question and the next that her cameraman poked his head around his screen. A question burned on the tip of her tongue, and she swallowed it back. “What would you say to mutants or metahumans who want somewhere safe, but who were possibly…spooked by the violence it took to create it?”

ERIK: A long silence settled between them, in the wake of her noncommittal response, and Erik didn’t falter in demeanor even as the cameramen and producers exchanged confused glances. Silence had a tendency to reveal truths–and there one was, plain as day in the question. Plain to the two of them, anyways.

“Many of us grew up surrounded by violence–if not from the beginning, then certainly from when our powers became clear. Whether it was experimentation, harassment, familial abuse, workplace discrimination, or something else, every single one of us has stories they can tell. And I am sorry that more violence was necessary to break us free. But we tried warnings, we tried negotiations. It is my honest opinion that we went above and beyond our obligations to try for peaceful resolution before the seige, even after they murdered a mutant hero in the middle of Central Park. The X-Men spent years trying to protect humans from threats, even at their own peril. Professor Xavier was happy to welcome students into his home whose families were either unwilling or unable to house their mutant children. We wrote op-eds, we made speeches, we penned explicit warnings that war would come if we weren’t brought to the table to help smooth things out. Instead, humans only raised the stakes.” There was only a hint of anger in his tone, most of it stubbornly crushed under the facade of careful diplomacy. Most, but not all.

“Some of the methods necessary to our win were unfortunate, I’ll freely admit. But it got people to listen, finally. And now we have our own place, where we are building the peaceful society we’ve never had the chance to live in for ourselves. I want the mutants and metahumans who watched their TV screens for that long weekend to know that I didn’t build Genosha as a victory pyre. It is not meant to be a symbol of constant war. It is meant to be for all my people what I always wanted myself–a *home. A safe haven. Nothing more or less.”

KARA: A safe haven. Kara let herself smile, despite the way her heart still hammered against her chest, how she had to remind herself to sit still. It was the message she’d wanted to get out, after all. The only thing that had pulled her out of the moment of shock following Snapper’s given assignment was the thought of ensuring the message of hope that was Genosha itself would get out.

That Erik somehow answered her unspoken question in the process of answering her actual question was unimportant.

(It still curled tightly in her chest, settled heavy on her shoulders. She still had to swallow against the nauseous feeling of it in her throat.)

The room seemed to shift around them, the tension rising in the wake of the small strain of anger in his voice. Kara remained steadfast in the center, “You built peace at the end of a war you’ve been fighting a lot longer than just one weekend. And it is peace, for any mutant or metahuman who wishes to enter.” Alien was notably absent. The tension in the room told Kara it wasn’t the time or the place to point that out. This was about Genosha. “For anyone looking to enter, what do you think day-to-day life will be like for citizens of Genosha? What can they expect in the ways of laws, economy, relations and movement between other countries?”

ERIK: The next question was expected, wasn’t a surprise, but his heartbeat ticked up in speed once, twice, thrice before he took control to slow it down, gaze and steady smile still aimed at Kara before he turned to the camera.

“In some ways, Genosha won’t be all that different from what our citizens are used to elsewhere. We have the same basic laws meant to keep the peace. We’re building small businesses, infrastructure, greenhouses for food supply–exactly what you’d expect to find in any community. Obviously, given the nature of our citizenry, we intend to have a large space in society for the use of powers and abilities. No mutant needs to be afraid to use their abilities on Genosha–if you need help learning to use them, Xavier’s Institute has been the golden standard of that sort of education for years. People will find their place in our society where their interests and skills meet, and that is on particular display in the High Council, whose names and positions I do believe I sent over. Warren Worthington is in charge of our Ministry of Commerce due to his expertise in business. Jean Grey is heading up our Ministry of Health and overseeing the construction of our healthcare system due to her medical experience. Charles Xavier is responsible for our Ministry of Education, for obvious reasons. I’ve taken great care to select an experienced and trustworthy Council to guide the direction of our growing country, and they in turn are excellent at scouting talent to best fulfill their own responsibilities.” And now to relations. The truth wasn’t something even those close to him knew, yet, but he knew the story that needed to be told. The one the world needed to hear so they wouldn’t decide Genosha was too much a threat, after all. “As for diplomatic relationships, building and maintaining good relationships with other nations is of paramount importance. We want to serve not only as a safe haven, but as an advocate for our people abroad, improving conditions for mutants and metahumans who may not wish to relocate. As I mentioned before, movement into and out of Genosha currently requires only a security check at the border. We’re working on the creation of passports and visas, so it’s possible that the border may tighten in the future, but such is the case for any country. Border security varies based on the political landscape—and we’re making a good-faith effort to be far more open than I think most new countries would be in such close proximity to one with which they recently finished a war. I want to extend my thanks to the U.S. State Department for their willingness to work on forging a positive working relationship between our nations despite the obvious rocky history.”

KARA: His heart ticked up, and Kara zeroed in on it. She watched the expressions play across his face, his smile steady but the moment between the question and his answer notable. Her fingers danced across her notebook, and she wanted to push. It was half her job, wasn’t it? Get answers. But there was a stark difference between sitting across the table from someone demanding answers for an article in print, and sitting in front of a myriad of cameras.

“That brings us to the actual layout of your government. Are you looking at a democracy, wherein officials are elected after the initial establishing of the country is done; a constitutional monarchy?” Her lips ticked up, imagining Jean with a crown. But that would mean Erik falling into a soft life somewhere, finally at peace. The race of his heart and the anger flashing through his eyes before she’d flown away from Genosha told Kara peace was still so far away for Erik Lehnsherr.

ERIK: He could see the questions burning on her tongue by the way her fingers curled around the pen and skirted across the page, as if she were mentally imagining it filling with all the answers she wanted to demand.

But she was not alone with him, for better or for worse, the both of them were on camera, and there were lines, professional and personal, that she wouldn’t cross. Not here.

“Certainly, that’s along the lines of my vision for what lies further down the line. I believe that people deserve a right to be represented by their government–something which was decidedly not the case for mutants in America, before the recent restructuring of the Accords. That’s one of the primary reasons I established the Council; of course, I could hardly be expected to do all the work on my own, but large decisions for our country are meant to be discussed by myself and relevant Council members–or for the most important decisions, amongst the entire Council. I can understand that from the outside it might look like simply delegating tasks, but my Council is meant to lay the groundwork for a deliberative body that makes decisions for our people. For purposes of ease, in these early days, I have the final say as of now, but I chose people that I trust to be honest with me, not simply tell me what I want to hear. I’m confident that the decisions we make moving forward will be what’s best for all of our people. But in short, yes: I intend for our country to eventually shift officially to a constitutional monarchy. Eventually, my hope is to abolish the monarchy entirely, but that would obviously be quite a ways in the future.”

KARA: So Jean could end up in a crown. The thought was oddly comforting, even while her heart continued to race. She wanted to do Genosha justice, ensure any mutants wishing to find peace knew there was a place for them. There were viewers who wanted to know everything, and Kara just wanted to be home. She wanted to be somewhere she couldn’t hear his heartbeat.

Her eyes dropped to her notebook, where most of the questions had already been asked. “Of course, of course, yeah. One more question, Mr. Lehnsherr, and we’ll let you get back to what I’m sure is an incredibly busy job building an entirely new country. And again, thank you for taking the time to talk with us today. It means a lot, not only to The Planet, but to so many who are looking at Genosha with so many questions, and even hope.”

She wanted to ask him to promise against violence in the future. She wanted to ask him if had any regrets. She wanted to ask him selfish things she already knew the answer to. She swallowed them down. “If you close your eyes and you imagine Genosha five, ten, fifteen years in the future, what does daily life look like, the culture, the…food, the smells? Is religion engrained in the culture? What does it look like when Genosha goes from an upstart to a home?”

ERIK: She was sitting there asking him what the future looked like, and Erik had to bite the inside of his cheek to refrain from laughing. That was the question, isn’t it? Erik had spent his whole life fighting for a better future, but in all honesty? He’d never expected to live to see it. He’d long ago resigned himself to the idea that this fight would kill him–that he could open the door for others, but wouldn’t make it to the other side.

But here he was, now, and he didn’t know what to do with himself. He could never concede that–not to his family, not to his people, and certainly not to his enemies. He was pushing through, helping construct this new world step by step, but the final vision was still shrouded in clouds on the horizon.

( He should be dead, should’ve been in Raven’s place– )

Erik smiled at the camera and pretended that he’d ever had the optimism to sustain a dream. Pretended that the dreams he’d once had hadn’t been squashed by the people watching this broadcast, all the little humans snuggled up under their blankets at home, again and again and again. Pretended that his dreams hadn’t been massacred in Auschwitz, and burned in Vinnitsa, and killed again by a bullet in Cuba and another in Central Park a decade later. “Genosha is open to all mutants and metahumans, from all over the world. Every one of them will bring different traditions with them, a different piece of fabric in the quilt. As we grow together, new traditions should spring up, native to Genosha, to our species.” They needed to move away from human traditions. Away from humans.

“I see children who can claim a homeland rather than a host, able to play safely in our communities and learn their powers while surrounded by people who can provide the guidance they need. Genosha will be built on community for our people, not competition–all of us working for collective benefit instead of individual wins at the expense of our kin. I see my people using their gifts freely, creating new advances that will change the world. I want a city centre that showcases the best we have to offer–restaurants filling the air with the smells of their food, boutiques of creative wares, monuments commemorating our best and brightest, a government that works efficiently to meet the people’s needs as thy arise instead of being bogged down in political disagreements.”

Erik sat forward, eyes shining with earnestness. “Most importantly, I want every single resident to feel the words I’ve been pushing for years: mutant and proud. Or metahuman and proud, as the case may be,” he tacked on with a chuckle. “Regardless, I want my people to embrace their true nature, their true power. Perhaps some would paint that as a religion: I wouldn’t go that far. I am a Jewish mutant, and I am proud of it. At last our people have their freedom. And if I do my job right, we will never be afraid again.”

KARA: A small silence followed the answer. The cameras took a moment to focus on his face, and Kara tried to parse through everything he’d said. She wanted it for them. For Scott, Jean, Gabby, Lorna. A place to be happy and themselves, to grow and thrive. Again, alien was notably absent, but she pushed it aside.

This was the end, a goodbye, hopefully without the ‘see you later.’

“That sounds…wonderful. Thank you again, Mr. Lehnsherr. I’m sure you have much to do. And thank you, viewers, for joining us tonight. This has been a Daily Planet special.”

The red lights on the camera ticked off one by one, and Kara was out of her seat in an instant, almost suspiciously fast. She gave a polite ‘thank you’ and a smile, and offered her hand to shake because that’s what good reporters did. That’s what the camera crew expected of her. She made it out of the room, down the stairs, into the alley before the rolling in her stomach caught up with her and she bent over the studio dumpster.

#char: Kara Danvers #char: erik lehnsherr #topic: siege #media: discord #submission

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