#I’ll have the first installment of this au up and running tomorrow I forgot I have a paper to start writing lmao | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aknosde · 3 years

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Omnes Una Manet Nox

The chronologically first installment of my Reyna Swap AU, Alea Iacta Est // Reyna Avilla Ramírez-Arellano // Fluff & Angst, but minor on the angst // the night before Reyna disappears // tw: mentions past minor character death // light swearing // 4.4k

ao3

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“That went well, didn’t it?” Jason asks with that familiar, absently intense energy. They’ve just descended the steps of the Senate after their monthly meeting with the consuls.

The two consuls, in their late thirties, oversee all of Camp Jupiter. Of course, the legion manages their own grounds and budget, under Jason and Reyna’s command, but the little oversight they do get is from the consuls.

Johnson was one of New Rome’s praetors, a few years back. He doesn’t care much about the legion, being from a legacy family and largely skirting his training and service, and he never ceases to make that known. Malhill is the one that always gets under Jason’s defenses. He’s good on policy, good on veterans, good on kids, everything that they could want. But he was the legion’s champion only ten years ago. A direct son of Apollo, a talented archer but an even better bender of light, a legion praetor, and he’s had his eyes on Jason’s career since day one. Reyna’s seen the way he eyes Jason whenever she and Jason are in New Rome, already pegging him for a consul position once Jason’s old enough.

“It went well, Jace,” she says. “Your mission plan is flawless, the only thing that could make them happier is if you’d go on it.” She regrets the words as soon as they’re out of her mouth.

Her remorse is tangible, visible in the line of his spine, the way he taps the place in his pocket where Ivlivs would sit if they were not inside the Pomerian Line, the subtle flick of his wrist.

Not for the first time, she thinks about Mount Othrys. Everything it took from her. Sometimes when she sleeps–not often, but enough–it plays over in her head. But something is always wrong.

She’s leading the charge, but suddenly it’s Jason next to her instead of Michelle. Or Jason and Michelle run into the throne room, but when she closes the door behind them it locks. She makes it into the throne room, slaying all of the Dracaena, but when she enters Atlas is holding Jason over his head, instead of fighting him hand to hand. On the good nights, Michelle isn’t dead when she bursts through the door, on the bad, she watches Michelle die. The one constant is Jason, gold ichor dripping down his face in a horrific mask. When she and Jason land the killing blow, together, she can always see it.

He doesn’t talk about it, of course. Not about Michelle, not about his election, not about the mountain. But she can see it weighing on him through the big things, like how he hasn’t been out of camp borders since the battle, and the small things, like how he glances up at the stars, as if one will come down and crush him any moment.

She rolls her right shoulder, feeling the ligaments shift, as if it will rid her of the thoughts, prepare her for a topic of conversation that often hits a little too close to home.

“Did you hear how Johnson pronounced my name? He’s even worse than you.” Maybe the small huff of a laugh Jason expels is worth it. “‘Miss Ramírez-Arellano,’” she continues, in a nasally imitation of the consul.

“I don’t say it that badly.”

“You say it like a white boy who didn’t know Spanish was a language until two seconds ago.”

“Ramírez-Arellano,” he says, better than consul Johnson, but she still hates hearing it. That girl is long gone, the only thing connecting her to Reyna is Hylla, and although Reyna loves her sister, she’s grateful for the distance that keeps Hylla from being a constant reminder.

“‘We were– were very, erm, dazzled, by your most recent proposition.’” She continues the impression until they are walking through the Praetorian Gate, Jason half hanging off her shoulder and giggling like they’re thirteen again.

He has a nice laugh. A friendly one. It seems to feed off of her volume, her effort, fluctuating the longer he goes. He shouts at her to stop several times, but he’s doubled over in armor, snorting, and all she wants to do is make him laugh like this forever.

It only gets worse on the steps of the Principa, when he decides a good revenge plan is to trip her. The building is dark like the rest of the legion. Two lamps, invisible under the light of day, flank the double doors, but the light is faint and barely makes its way to the stairs, washing everything in a pale yellow. She side steps his foot–his sneakers have reflective decals on them for the sake of the gods, he’s an idiot–but he’s shifted his weight so much that he ends up tripping himself.

They stumble through the doors, still chuckling, and make their way across the great hall as quickly as possible. They must have gotten a new tender for the Principa, because the lights are off like they forgot that people actually live here. Only two people, but still. The darkness makes the place unsettling, and now she’s counting on Jason to keep her occupied. A job he seems all too willing to fulfill as he runs through the next set of doors, still in full armor, clashing against the wood.

Upstairs is worse, she decides. The abandoned lounge reminds her of her childhood living room. Any moment her father could rise from one of the low couches, ready to scoop her up and throw her in her room, that crazed look in his eye.

Something clangs and she jumps.

“What the heck is this?” Jason’s whisper-shouting when she catches up with him in the hallway outside their rooms. He’s partially on the floor–hands keeping him from being face flat–and something is crinkling under his knee.

For some reason all Reyna can say is: “Did you just say ‘heck?’”

“Shut up,” he whines, and she wishes the lights were on just so she could see his ears turning red.

“Of course, farm-boy.”

He’s sitting back on his heels now, she can see the object’s dark outline as he holds it up, rustling in his hands.

“Seriously, what is this thing?” he asks, looking up at her.

“A bag with my old clothes,” she says, squinting. “I was going to see if any legionnaires need some.”

“And you have it by your door so you don’t forget,” he says, explaining for her. In the stress of running for office, of war, she forgot the ways in which they are attuned to each other. She forgot that she doesn’t have to explain and defend her every little action to him. It’s sad that it’s taken her almost two months to remember.

He sets the bag back down, nudging it into almost its exact spot, and hefts himself to his feet with a sigh. His brow furrows once he’s standing, looking out into the middle distance, but he sees the quirk of her brow and quickly explains himself, “We have that meeting with the centurions tomorrow after breakfast.”

Jason is a social person. A true extrovert. He hates being alone, working alone, and the quiet that comes with both. So what he’s really saying is that he has work left to do and wants some company. And who is she to deny him that? “Do you want to work in the main hall, office, or my room?”

He grins, clapping his hands and then raises his palms to the sky. “Bedroom, praise Fortuna.”

“Five minutes, Sparkplug,” she says, bumping her shoulder into his own as she sidesteps him into her room. His eyes follow her as she goes, like she’s his North Star, and damn him for making her heart skip a beat, because in the empty space Venus’ words always echo. She stomps them down, before her face can fall, before the hollow silence can fill the hallway, and in their place she jams a smirk. “If you’re lucky I’ll even edit your speech.”

As her door clicks behind her she can hear him groan, “I just prayed to Fortuna.”

She stands with her hands on her hips, briefly surveying her room to decide what to do first.

Being praetor has its perks, like private bath and bedrooms across the hall from her best friend and king sized beds, but it also means she is no longer in the practice of keeping her space ready for inspections. Her comforter is pulled up, but her bed isn’t made, files are scattered across her desk and on her dresser, and her wardrobe is wide open.

She decides on doing everything at once, which involves a crooked path across her room as she shucks off armor, not bothering with her armor stand, and changes out of the nice clothes she wore to meet the consuls. All the while she turns on lights, puts on sweats, makes her bed, and tucks away files.

Jason knocks on her door five minutes later, that ever punctual bastard, just as she’s zipping her hoodie over her tank top.

“Help me, Reyna,” he says, holding a typed copy of his speech out to her in both hands like some sort of trophy. “You’re my only hope.”

She snorts, snatching the pages out of his hands. “Nice reference.”

He cocks his head to the side, brow furrowed, and she bets if he were actually a wolf one of his ears would be turned as well.

“You just made a Star Wars reference,” she says, but he looks just as confused.

“What’s Star Wars?” He asks warily.

She swears to herself in Spanish, because otherwise he’ll tease her about the legion’s anti-swearing policies, collapsing dramatically back on her bed, and sighs. “It’s a movie trilogy, wolf boy.”

“Ah.”

Another thing she forgot, apparently, is how little Jason knows about basically anything outside of camp. He says he arrived when he was three, and wasn’t even allowed into the city until he was eight, which apparently means he’s never been to a movie theater.

By now he seems used to her telling him about the more innocent aspects of the mortal world, and at the very least takes his lack of knowledge in stride. If only he would watch the movies and shows she’s downloaded on his laptop for him.

When she looks up after reading his introduction he is sitting at her desk, picking at some invisible blemish while subtly putting highlighters away, and looking around her room.

“If you start cleaning I’m throwing you out.”

He grumbles to himself, but she makes out a yes ma’am somewhere in the mix, so she decides to throw him a bone.

“If you want to occupy yourself I have a speech about legion veterans you can fact check,” she says, faux casual, not that he can tell. He needs to do something before he starts picking at his nails instead of the wood.

“Sure.”

“It’s in one of the red folders.”

“Would that be the one on the floor under your desk or the one on your dresser,” he says, sounding far too cheeky.

“The one on my dresser, and stop pretending you’re better than me, asshole.”

He clutches his chest dramatically, walking to her dresser. “Better than the best? How could I be?”

“Mmmhmm,” she responds, half ignoring him in favor of his speech, aware of the ticking clock.

It’s truly impossible for him to stay awake past ten, a fact that is only proven the next time she looks up and he’s asleep at her desk, pen still in hand and a research paper opened on her laptop. No matter how often she reminds him that the regimented lights out of the legion no longer applies to them, he just can’t seem to break the habit.

“Jason.” She nudges his shoulder, extracting the pen at the same moment so he can’t smudge her speech.

His head jerks, eyes alert, but voice groggy when he says, “What’s going on?” All legionnaires wake up in a similar manner, but for some reason it only strikes her as amusing when he does it.

She hadn’t thought of what she was waking him up for, besides a need to do it, and her mind wanders to the Forum, wondering if her favorite café would still be open at this hour. She’s starving, she realizes. Their meeting with the consuls had been pushed back and they had had to skip dinner to make it.

She grins. “Are you hungry?”

“Uh, yeah. How did you know?”

“Roof s’mores?”

“Reyna,” he drags out the last syllable, fading it into a sigh. “That takes energy.”

“Okay, but–” She holds her hands out, weighing them. “Would you rather spend the energy to just walk across the hall and go to sleep, or climb up to the roof with me and roast us a couple marshmallows?”

Jason looks at her like is that a real question? which had been her intention. She folds her hands into a pleading gesture and pouts emphatically–he’s always more flexible when she acts a little silly. “Please, Jace. I got that cheap chocolate you like. I’ll even get the stuff myself, you can go straight up.”

“Fine.” He rolls his eyes and she smiles, satisfied, and already on her way out the door.

The praetorian kitchen reminds her of office break rooms on television, besides the fact that it looks perpetually unnatural, mostly due to the fact that only three people go inside–her, Jason, and the Principa tender–and it’s always pristine. The only things actually kept in there are coffee, tea, and of course: her and Jason’s secret stash of s’more supplies, buried in the back of the cabinet with the untouched bowls.

By the time she’s through the roof access door, conveniently placed to hide it from the view of anyone on the ground, Jason is already sitting by the dark spot of ash that signifies their pastime. Because, yes, they started coming up here long before either of them were elected Praetor.

He’s a dark outline against the night sky, sitting criss-crossed and looking down at the façades of the other legion buildings, and briefly she has the thought that somebody could make a painting out of this. She slides her old Camp Jupiter ID back between the lock and door jamb, willing the thought to disappear with the potential of the fire alarm going off.

She shivers as she sits next to him, nose wrinkling with the cold now that she’s fully vulnerable to the elements. Without a word Jason removes his sweatshirt and passes it to her.

“I’m already wearing one.”

“Mine is thicker, trade me.”

And because he’s Jason, she does.

It’s slightly big on her, his shoulders just a few inches broader than her own, and a forest green. On the back is a printed vine of purple flowers and a date. She recognizes it as one of the prizes of the Ludi Florae, or Games of Flora, from Floralia last year. The festival sits right between April and May, and last year’s was the grandest of all. Or so Jason says. Everyone had been anxious about Mount Othrys, and apparently all of that energy had been funnelled into the events.

Reyna herself had been busy running for praetor. All she remembers from the festival is campaigning. And Jason, running up to her looking flushed, this sweatshirt thrown over one shoulder.

“Remember when I told you that you were the best, Jace,” she says sweetly once she is safely swaddled in his hoodie. He’s right–it is thicker.

Jason grins up at her, wrapping his hands around two marshmallows. “I may recall something along those lines having been said a long, long time ago.”

“Well, I just want to inform you that I retract that statement, because this sweatshirt is ugly and the cuffs are burnt.”

The electricity that had been slowly coursing over the ridges of his fingers flares for a second, and his hands fly open as if he was handed metal straight from the forges. “Oops.” Both of the marshmallows are burnt, but his lips are turned up in a poorly concealed smirk.

“I forget you’re a heathen,” she says primly, sticking her nose in the air instead of saying any of the less wholesome options at the back of her throat.

“Does liking burnt marshmallows make me a heathen?”

She pretends to mull it over for a second, extracting the rest of their supplies. “Yes. You have to buy the next bag because you’re mean and I say so.”

She takes the burnt marshmallow regardless, sandwiching it between her own chocolate and graham crackers. Jason takes three squares of the Hershey bar he likes for absolutely no good reason, and does the same. She shakes her head. He’s the fucking all American boy who sticks with the classics even when he doesn’t know they’re the classics. She has no idea how he does it.

They don’t talk while they eat, regrettably the silence reminding her of her childhood, no matter how hard she pushes against it. She looks up at the stars, trying to forget the cold kitchen, cold house, even in hundred degree heat. It’s times like this when the ring, and the chain she wears it on, weigh heavy on her neck.

It feels like a noose right now, just as much as it feels like freedom, like power, every other second of her life. Like a sentence, compelling her to pay for her crimes, to confess to them, to wreck her world so terribly that she would lose up from down and die. A fair punishment.

“What are you thinking about,” Jason asks a while after they’ve finished. She looks at him, sitting back on his hands, looking at her, not the sky. It’s dark on the roof, but the light from the street lamps seems to center around him. It glints off his hair, visibly blond even in the night, and pours into his eyes. They’re always so blue. So blue it looks fake. But they never cease to pull Reyna in. Sometimes she swears she can see lightning arc across his irises.

He’s always asking her questions like this. Innocent and curious, no ulterior motives, no goals. He genuinely wants to know. And if she doesn’t answer, he’ll drop it, because he always does. It’s not something she’s used to, even after all these years; this place she has in his mind, if not his heart. A place of utter respect. He doesn’t question her because he knows what she is thinking, and when he doesn’t, he accepts her. Would he still, if he knew what she did to her father?

She breaks his gaze with that thought. It’s too much. “My sister,” she says instead, and it doesn’t feel right to look back. Under oath, Reyna would say that Jason is the most important person in her life. Her best friend; the person she sees every day, talks to every day, eats with and works with. He is the closest thing she has to a family here. And she– And she loves him. Maybe as a little more than a friend. But talking about her sister while looking him in the eye feels too intimate, too intense. “She would like you.”

It is something to say, simply to say something, but maybe she isn’t wrong. There is something in Jason that reminds her of the Queen Anne’s Revenge, and not in the way that haunts her nightmares and twists her sheets around her until they become bonds she can’t quite break free of. Being on Blackbeard’s crew, that’s how Reyna learned hard work, in a way she never had before. It had instilled a drive in her, to change everything, to rewrite systems, to make something so beautiful it was unrecognizable. And perhaps Jason doesn’t have that same drive, but he knows the work. He goes out of his way to do it dirty and hard and long. He refuses to take the thousands of shortcuts he’s offered. And Hylla would admire that, she thinks.

“I had a sister,” he whispers.

For a second–just a second–she’s stuck. “What?”

“I had a sister.” He picks at a loose thread on his jeans for a moment, and that’s how she knows he’s serious, because he hates ripping his jeans more than almost anything else. He’s refusing to meet her gaze. “Thalia Grace.”

He says her name soft and tender. She can imagine him, standing over a hearth, cradling the name between his palms and looking at it the same way he first looked when he was gifted Ivlivs. Big, round eyes.

“That’s really nice, Jace,” she says, because he rarely surprises her, and for once she doesn’t know what to say.

He looks up at her, smiling tightly. His eyes are sad. Is that how she looks when she thinks about Hylla?

“You can tell me about her, if you want,” Reyna says when the moment becomes two, and then three, because Jason doesn’t bring up things he doesn’t want to talk about. But Jason also has his own ideas about debt, about worthiness, and it is clear to her that he told her about his sister in exchange for Reyna talking about her own.

He smiles at her. A real smile, if small. She feels warm, and it’s not from his extra thick sweatshirt.

“I don’t remember a lot about her, but… She had black hair. So dark, like the night. And her eyes, they were amazing. Bright blue, like a perfect sky. Sometimes I can see them, in this half-memory half-dream, and they’re so strong they look like how an electric shock feels.”

“Like yours,” she whispers, and Jason hums in a way that makes it frustratingly unclear if he heard her or not. She hopes not.

“When I was little,” he continues, after another moment of staring wistfully over the Twelfth Legion, “I used to imagine she was looking for me. That one day she would find me, here, be proud of me for– I don’t know what. Love me, or something. All that stupid shit.” He trails off again, picking at his nails, but she can’t bring herself to chide him.

There are things that she knows about Jason, true as the sun rising in the east and the pull of the moon on the tides and the sound of imperial gold on whetstone. She knows that he works hard, works with the public, flushes under the compliments of people older than him because he has never had a concrete parental figure. Not even one to hate, to fear, to mourn. She knows that he never trusts praise from these people because he knows his parentage, knows they know, knows that he is connected to his father in the eyes of these people in a way he doesn’t feel himself, and never will.

Truths of Jason that are pillars in her understanding of him, that were pivotal in their relationship. But like so many supports, they were never acknowledged. Truth has no need to be stated, and she has no compellence to state that which is unnecessary. He talks of Thalia, telling Reyna that he wants his sister to want him, to find him, and to love him not because he is a son of Jupiter, but because he’s him.

She doesn’t say, I don’t care about you because you’re the son of Jupiter, I care about you because you are my best friend. And she doesn’t say, I care about you because you listen to people, because you care about them and what happens to them so instinctively that I cannot understand it. She doesn’t say, I’m proud of you, and you should be proud of yourself.

She doesn’t say those things because he knows them, because they are truths, and truths do not need to be said.

But still, something must be done.

She– She’s always been bad at the physical things. She can do a handshake, a fist bump, but she has never been a hugger, no matter that Jason is. She’s never managed a hip-check, or a shoulder pat, or ruffled his hair in any way that wasn’t rough and meant to hurt.

But that doesn’t mean she can’t try.

She goes slow, leaning over slightly, feels the cool breeze breaking on her knuckles. Gently, perhaps more gently than she has done anything in her life, she takes his hands, detangles them, presses her finger pads against the bleeding bits where he’s torn his skin away. She closes her hands around his own, cups them in her palms.

He looks up at her, tears welled on his water line but nothing has spilled, and she feels his hands move in her own, feels him latch on, like when they were young and late for assignments, running across the grounds and refusing to leave each other behind. She looks into his eyes, wide. Electrifying. Just like she knew they were.

She waits for the moment to stretch and break, like moments oft do. Her last move is to give his hands a squeeze, hopefully reassuring, and he gives her another small smile and moves to wipe his eyes with the sleeves of her sweatshirt, the one he’s still wearing.

“We should probably be going to bed,” she says, because she doesn’t have anything else to say. He laughs, wetly, but in that way everybody laughs when they’re told something they already know. It makes her smile; it’s special when he does it.

Everybody isn’t wrong, she thinks as she and Jason part ways outside their rooms, Jason Grace is special. But not because he is the son of Jupiter. He’s special because Reyna had never wanted friends, and here he is, her best. He’s special because he does things, normal things, and they make her smile. He’s special because he does everything in his power to ensure he deserves the love he receives. And gods, she thinks, does he deserve it.

She slips off her necklace and gets under her duvet cover, curling up and fiddling with the cuffs of his sweatshirt. Chunks of the polyester-wool fabric are hard and melted from undoubtedly unfortunate rendezvous with electricity. She finds one, right where his thumb would rest, and rubs it between her own thumb and index finger as she falls asleep.

When she wakes up, she’s on a school bus.

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Others in this series: Amicus Certus in re Incerta Cernitur

#there's more info and clarifications in the end notes of ao3 so check those out #but i'm always happy to answer any questions about any of my writing #especially this series #chart writes #fic: Omnes una manet nox #jason grace #reyna avila ramirez arellano #Reyna!Swap au #alea iacta est #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #heroes of olympus #pjo fic #hoo fanfic #hoo #pjo #pjo fanfic #tw death mention #reyna ramirez arellano #riordanverse

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jisungsmochi · 4 years

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the diner boy - hrj

diner boy renjun + new diner girl reader

slight enemies to lovers !

a/n: this is the first instalment of my nct dream job au (?) basically each member will be the worker / the reader will be the worker. it’s a fun idea i’ve had but never actually bothered writing so i hope you all can enjoy it hehe!

word count: 2.8k

it was your first day of your new waitressing job at your local diner. it was your very first job, and to say you were nervous was a complete understatement. you always strived to be better than what you could usually handle. thus, causing you to overthink and often dramatise certain situations.

as you tied the apron behind your back, you turned to meet a familiar face.

‘fancy seeing you here, stalking me now?’ the voice teased, as the boy who owned it, leant against the counter, wearing the same apron.

‘don’t get any ideas, it’s my first day’ you sighed.

renjun had always teased you, since your first day at the school. you were a new kid at the start of the year, and found it pretty easy to make friends. renjun, however, disliked how all of his friends were practically pining for your attention. he didn’t see why you were any special from any other new student so instead, to stray away from the constant praise you received from his friends. he decided to not be so nice to you. always teasing if you were late, if you had something in your hair, softly barging past you in the halls.

you were completely aware of his disliking towards you but you tried to not let it get to you. so when you saw that he happened to be working in the same diner, you were just about to quit right then and there.

‘well since it’s your first day, i’ll be sure to make things very difficult for you’ he smirked, watching as your eyes widened.

‘what do you mean?’ you struck back, folding your arms over eachother.

‘i’m the assistant manager so, whatever i say, you do’ renjun had this look in his eyes that you could only describe was mischievous. you were in for one wild ride.

your first shift consisted of you tripping multiple times and spilling plenty of both hot and cold beverages on the floor. then having to mop the floor as well as bus down each table on your own. it was clear that the diner was understaffed, yet renjun didn’t bother to help you at all. you huffed in exhaustion as you finished wiping down your last table for the day. renjun watched as you slowly wiped the sweat from your forehead before glaring at him and making your way to the break room. he wanted to follow you, but your slight slam to the door signalled that wouldn’t be the best idea.

he felt slightly guilty that he didn’t help you at all. but he wanted to stick his ground. he couldn’t give in so easily.

the next shift, you came in feeling exhausted from your first one, but still determined to do your job. renjun stopped you before you entered the back room of the diner.

‘nice work yesterday’ he taunted, blocking you from entering.

‘would have been nice if you decided to help but clearly being nice isn’t something you can do’ you groaned, trying to push past him, grabbing for you apron.

‘yeah yeah, try not to spill any drinks today okay’ he let you past as you gave him another scowl,

‘dickhead’ you muttered under your breath but renjun still heard. a part of him felt hurt by your words.

this shift was slightly better than the first. you were still on edge but it wasn’t completely noticeable by the patrons. you often glanced at renjun, who, for the first time it seemed, was serving customers. he had a surprisingly friendly smile and often laughed along with whatever banter the customers were throwing at him. he made it look so easy. he caught you glancing, giving you a smile as you quickly looked away and continued wiping down tables.

it was getting dark as you and renjun closed up the diner. you made sure everything was in its place before grabbing your jacket and backpack. renjun wanted to stop you before you left, to talk. about anything. but he didn’t know if you would do the same.

‘oh crap’ you groaned, watching as rain began to fall.

‘problem?’ renjun walked up next to you, slightly startling you.

‘uh yeah i caught the bus here and i don’t have an umbrella, i’m gonna be soaked’ you sighed, going through your backpack for any type of protection from the rain. renjun thought to himself for a moment, unsure of what to say to you.

‘i can drive you home’ he suddenly offered, causing you to halt your actions and look up at him. you weren’t sure if he was serious, but he was looking right back at you. renjun hates you, or so you thought. why would he offer to take you home?

‘i’m offering one last time, or else you can go get soaked’ he tapped his foot on the tiles. there’s the renjun you know.

‘yeah okay, thanks for offering’ you mutter, placing your phone into your bag and following him to his car. you watched as he pushed back some of his hair that was dampened from the rain. he looked quite stunning in your eyes.

‘enough staring, don’t get my car seats wet’ he yelled at you over the rain. you rolled your eyes, laying down your spare apron on the seat before getting into the car.

‘oh i wasn’t being serious’ he chuckled for what seemed like the first time you had witnessed.

‘just drive’ you retorted, running your fingers through your damp hair. renjun looked over at you, how you looked so cosy in your large winter jacket. he shook his head to rid of this thoughts before starting the car and following your directions home.

not much was said before the occasional ‘left here’ ‘right there’ but you both enjoyed the company, even if you both couldn’t admit it.

as he pulled up to your driveway, you began collecting your things.

‘thanks for the ride, i appreciate it. see you tomorrow’ you turned to him.

‘it’s fine, you just owe me one day’ he smirked as you rolled your eyes.

‘can’t you just take my gratitude?’

‘ehh where’s the fun in that?’ he was impossible.

‘i’m gonna leave now, bye’ you shut his door, practically bolting to your front door. you still heard his engine running, turning back to see him waiting for you to enter your home. you gave him a wave to signal you were fine, as he left your driveway.

renjun was an interesting guy. definitely one of a kind.

after a few weeks of working at the diner, you had began to get a hang of things. you weren’t totally perfect just yet, but you were well on your way. it became a thing for renjun to drop you home when it got too dark or the weather was bad. you didn’t mind, he began to refrain from making his usual comments during the car rides, and always made sure you entered your house before leaving. you wouldn’t talk as much during your shifts, due to the constant hustle and bustle of the job. but the occasional smiles and waves, sufficed for you both.

one day you were both working, a group of teenagers entered, interrupting the prior calm and collected atmosphere. you and renjun both sighed and looked at eachother.

‘you gonna handle them?’ he stood next to you behind the counter.

‘may as well, you finish up with table 10’ you told him as he nodded before giving you a small thumbs up and attending to his table. you took a deep breath before approaching the group and asking if they were ready to order.

luckily enough for you, that process when smoothly, despite their constant bickering over eachother.

as you were serving them their drinks, you suddenly tripped over one of their feet, causing you to spill the contents of the coca cola on the nearest patron. you instantly fell to the ground, some of the drink staining your white shirt. the group was enraged by the clumsiness, many of them just ranting to eachother, except for one boy. he stood up and began shouting at you, complaining about your ‘poor service’. this caught renjun’s attention as well as many of the other tables. he immediately rushed over to you, helping you up, before facing the boy.

‘look i understand that she made a mistake but that is no way to talk to a woman’ renjun gritted through his teeth, trying to remain using his customer service voice.

‘i don’t need to listen to you, i’d like to speak to the manager’ the boy chuckled at renjun’s efforts to ease the situation.

‘well our manager isn’t in today, but you can talk to the assistant manager, if you wish’ renjun retorted, you watched the confrontation intently.

the boy just nodded, renjun gave him a smirk before stating,

‘well continue with your complaint, you’re talking to the assistant manager’

the boy’s face dropped, as well as his friends. you slightly giggled to yourself as the group decided to up and leave the diner. renjun turned back to you,

‘are you alright?’ for the first time, he properly expressed his concern for you.

‘uh yeah, i’m okay, i’ll go get a mop to clean this mess, i’m so sorry’ you apologise to him, before he stopped you by grabbing your forearm.

‘no, just go and clean yourself up, i’ll get someone else to clean this mess. you can have the rest of the day off’ he gave you a softened smile, in which you returned.

‘thank you so much’ you exclaimed before heading to the back room.

he was your saviour that day.

renjun was late on a particular day, which had you worried. he was usually always here before you were.

‘hey, johnny, where’s renjun?’ you question, wiping down some of the washed dishes.

‘he’s taking a day off, something about preparing for an important family dinner’ johnny shrugged, observing your concerned look.

‘you wanna see him don’t ya?’ johnny teased, pushing his shoulder against yours.

‘what? no! that’s ridiculous’ you mumble the last part, was it really so ridiculous?

‘oh come on, you’ve been glued to him at work lately, it’s cute’ johnny just kept going on, which made you silent. maybe he really was telling the truth.

‘anyways, renjun forgot his payslip along with his travel card here, after your shift can you take it to his house? i’m working over time’ johnny handed you renjun’s belongings, not waiting for you to answer before leaving the kitchen. you stared at the items in your hand before shaking your head and placing them into your backpack. you said goodbye to johnny before exiting the diner and getting into your car to renjun’s house.

you hesitated before ringing the doorbell, remembering that johnny had said that he has an important family dinner.

maybe you could come by tomorrow, you thought. but it was too late as your hand had already pressed the doorbell. you heard some shuffling before the door swung open, revealing a neatly put together, renjun.

‘oh hi y/n, what are you doing here?’ he questioned. you stood silently for a moment before answering,

‘you forgot your travel card and payslip, i just came to drop them by’ you smiled as you handed him the items. he thanked you softly before someone else approached the door.

‘renjun sweetie who is at the door?’ a woman, who assumed was his mother, spoke from behind him.

‘uh a girl from work’ renjun responded. you kind of felt deflated after his response, you were just a coworker to him? not even a friend?

the woman’s face came into view, greeting you with a large smile, resembling much of renjun’s.

‘oh hello! renjun doesn’t really talk much about his work, it’s always like some kind of secret!’ his mother jokes and renjun gives her a playful glare. you stand awkwardly, laughing along.

‘have you eaten yet? we are just about to have dinner, i can pull up a chair for you!’ she persisted, as renjun tried to stop his mother from pulling you inside the house.

‘mum, y/n probably is really busy and has to go home’ renjun tried to argue as you were getting dragged by his mother,

‘actually i didn’t have any plans’ you shrug as his mother led you to a seat at the table. the rest of his family greeted you, including his grandparents and older sister. you greeted them kindly, trying your best not to stick out like a sore thumb. renjun just shook his head before sitting next to you.

dinner conversation didn’t seem like a problem for this family. everyone had something to talk about, something you weren’t used to. renjun chuckled along with all of his family’s jokes and stories, you couldn’t take your eyes off of him.

maybe he just looked so glorious in this moment, you just couldn’t stop.

‘so y/n! are you good friends with our dear renjun?’ his sister began teasing, as his parents and grandparents eyes fell onto the both of you.

‘um i mean, i guess so! we’ve been working together for a few months now, he’s pretty much taught me all i know’ you compliment and renjun just smiles without saying a word.

‘that’s our boy, so helpful and kind’ his grandpa exclaimed as the rest of the family laughed along. you couldn’t help but have this feeling in your stomach, a feeling you felt when you were truly happy.

dinner ended on a light note, everyone dispersing to do their own things. as a guest, you offered to help with the dishes but renjun’s mother declined your offer, only to pack you dessert for when you went home. you held the tupperware box in your hands, making your way to the front door, after bidding goodbye to everyone before renjun stops you. he leads you out to the front of his house, asking you to sit with him on the steps.

‘what’s up?’ you smiled, clinging onto your sweater sleeves due to the soft breeze.

‘i’m glad you decided to stay, even though my mother kinda forced you’ renjun started as you laughed.

‘it’s been a while since i’ve brought a friend to my house, and i’m glad that it was you. you got along with them pretty well’ he looked down at his feet.

‘it’s just my charm! but you weren’t such a fan of me when we first met’ you decided to poke at him.

‘yeah, i know, and i’m sorry. you were just so bright and optimistic and all my friends were drawn to you. i just didn’t understand why, but um, now i think i know’ he looked over at you, palms sweaty as he rubbed them against his jeans.

you gave him a small smile, scooting closer to him so your sides were against each other.

‘can i tell you something?’ you mumble, leaning your head on his shoulder, as you felt his posture stiffen.

‘yeah sure’ he replied, waiting for you to speak, nervously playing with his fingers.

‘i kinda have a crush on you’ you admitted, not looking at him. you felt his hand pull your head off his shoulder. you looked at him, with uncertainty.

he reciprocated the same look, nibbling at the side of his cheek before saying,

‘i kinda have a crush on you too. i just didn’t know how to say it’ he admitted. both of your faces lit up with immense joy. you pulled him close to you, wrapping your arms around his neck, nuzzling into his shoulder.

‘i’m so glad’ you mumble as he softly rubs your back.

you both pull away, smiling at eachother like complete dorks.

‘i can’t wait to see what happens next’ he grins as he leads you to your car,

‘same here, i’ll see you tomorrow’ you quickly press a soft peck to his cheek, watching as his blush covered his entire face.

‘oh and by the way, don’t tell johnny just yet, we can’t let his ego be bigger than his head!’ you added as renjun just shook his head and nodded,

‘you got it, get home safely’ renjun waves as you enter your car and begin to drive off.

he watches as your car completely exits his driveway, before heading back inside his house.

‘renjun! your girlfriend is so pretty! we like her alot’ his grandmother greets him as he enters the door,

‘she’s not my girlfriend just yet, nana, someday soon’ renjun responds as a warm feeling takes over his body as he rushes to his room to text his friends about the good news.

thank god you started working at the diner, otherwise renjun would have had to pretend to hate you for much longer.

the endddddd i’m sorry the ending kinda sucks 😓😓

#huang renjun #nct dream #nct dream imagines #nct dream fluff #nct dream au #nct au #nct imagines #nct fluff #huang renjun imagine #renjun imagine #renjun fluff #jisungsmochiimagines #jisungsmochi masterlist

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is-that-another-soulmate-au · 4 years

Text

Korrasami/Wuko/OC insert soulmate Au part 3?

@mypureessence 😌 it is finished

I really am trying not to have my OC overrun this but writing her out is a bit of self indulgent therapy for myself so I got carried away

Korra managed to convince Tenzin to let Asami stay at air temple island the night after the gala and Lin didnt let Lee out of her sight, still not convinced she could defend herself. Which royally pissed Lee off.

On air temple island Korra and Asami were clearing the table after breakfast when a knock came at the door. Asami huffed "I'll go get it, its probably my dad collecting me, he's weird about that" however behind the door was in fact not her dad, but Lin and Lee. "Chief Beifong, what a... pleasant surprise"

"Trust me, its not pleasant or surprising,"

"Hey!" Lin gave a scolding look to Lee who only grinned cheekily

"We just stopped by to see if you and Korra wanted to help me take some material from my warehouse out of the city and bring it... into the city"

"Id love to but I have meetings to go to with my dad today so I can't"

"I can!" Bolin called from behind the pair who turned to see him with Pabu on his shoulder "I'd love to see that warehouse of yours and help bring some explosives"

"Asami! Are you alright?" Korra called while walking up behind her "oh... Beifong" ah a nice grumpy glare"

"Korra" Lin responded

"Hi, I'm also here. Name's Lee... you might know me... yeah, just wanted to ask you to join me to my warehouse and help me bring stuff into the city"

"Oh.. uh.. sure, I can help"

"Great, lets hurry, we have to get a group training with Lee by noon today" and with that they loaded up in a truck with Lee driving and Lin holding onto the honorary oh shit handle that she had installed because, well.. 'oh shit this person drives like a lunatic'

Soon enough they pulled up to the warehouse and Lee grinned ear to ear "there she is, home sweet home"

"You.. live in your warehouse?" Bolin asked with a raised pitch of confusion in his voice while they walked towards the big building.

"What? No, the warehouse and storage vaults are connected to my house" Lee gave a laugh as she threw open the doors and went to take a step in, however when she took that first step she tugged at a wire and heard a click. Her eyes went wide at the realization. She had set off a three second tops explosion. She had now two seconds to fix this. Using second number two she lifted her hands and pushed Lin to the right while pushing Bolin and Korra to the left all the while screaming "get down"

"Hey!" Was all Lee managed to hear from Lin when she lit the blue flames in her hands and brought them infront of her just in time to block and deflect most of the explosion. The force sent her flying back ast a pair of trees and into the dirt behind it with a loud scream.

Hitting the ground she felt the air knock out of her. But heard the trio she came with running to her. The air managed to find its way back into her and she sprung to her feet "stay down! Someone broke in" she darted into the warehouse, but not without snatching the pair of cuffs off of Lin's hip, and lit a blue flame in her hand finding a man about to throw another bomb, though she was more prepared this time and made a spin kick to send it right back to him covering him in stinky sap. "Wrong bomb my good sir" she said and cuffed his hands together.

Tossing him out she told Lin to toss him in the back of the car with Bolin to watch him. "Lee, how did you not get hurt from that blast?" Korra asked with a very clearly confused look "and what was that blue glow?

"Oh, right, I forgot everyone assumed I was a nonbender, I'm a fireb-"

"Lee that was incredibly dangerous! What if you got hurt!"

"Shush Lin, I'm fine, I used my fire to deflect it, like I was trying to tell Korra, Im a firebender, I can deflect most explosions, and I use my warehouse to experiment and practice with bombs and the like... though, I do think I may have a few scrapes and bruises from that one, I wasn't as prepared and I didn't know what the timer was set to. I got lucky with a guess. Three seconds"

"Exactly! You. Got. Lucky. Dont do that again without telling me!"

"Lin if I didnt push you aside and control the blast we all would have been take out by it!" Lee jabbed a finger at Lin's chest "even if I did jump out of the way we would have been taken out. My deflecting doesn't just lessen the blow, it controls the blow and how much damage it causes!"

"Well, take a look at your warehouse! Not much danage control there huh?"

"Actually, there is! The entire building would barely be standing if I didnt deflect it! I'm not a helpless little mouse!"

"I know youre not but that was still very dangerous and stupid!"

"Lin. Just. Shut up, I did what I could in three seconds, help me open the vaults and get my materials or just leave and I'll clean up so I can stay" Lee turned back to her warehouse with a huff, the soot covered doors fell off their hinges as she walked in to search for anything outside the vaults that was salvageable.

Korra turned to Bolin and then the Lin "I've never seen anyone talk back to you like that before, Ive never even seen Lee mad before"

Bolin let out a wince at the memory of the small woman looking ready to kill Lin at a seconds notice "yeah, I think you struck a nerve"

Lin however had her arms crossed "what she did was incredibly dangerous"

"What she did saved all of out tails including hers, shes the explosives expert here, she knows what she's talking about"

They all turned their heads quick when they heard banging around on the othwr end of the warehouse paired with Lin yelling some obscenities. Making their way through the debri from the explosion they found Lee using a wrench half her size to hit at a vault valve handle "open up you stupid piece of metal! The explosion is over!" And with one last swing the valve spun and a loud click was hear "finally!"

It didn't take long to load up the different compounds and her personal belongings, given that she kept very little materials at a time and she didn't really have much in the way of material items. Sitting in the passenger seat with Korra and Bolin in the back on either side of the guy they caught, Lee snickered when she noticed the two covering their noses "hah, yeah, stinky sap, great when you want to get a hold on your opponent without hurting them but also want to make them hate their existence the entire time."

"This is the lamest type of bomb I've hear of" Bolin pouted

"I'll say" Korra agreed.

Once they were back in the city, Lin handed the guy off to her men before bringing the explosives materials to a secure storage facility and her belongings to Lin's apartment. By 30 til noon everything was done and Korra left with Bolin to head back to Air Temple Island.

"So.. uhm," Lin started "I wanted to apologize for how I reacted at your warehouse"

"Dont worry, I get it all the time, they see little ole me with my white hair, blue eyes and scars galore and think 'no way she's a bender!' Or 'no way she can defend herself' but Ive had my own back since I was 6" Lee shrugged "Im sorry for yelling at you... I normally don't flip out... its just different with you I guess"

"Yeah, dont mention it, we have to get to the station to set up the explosives division" and with that they were off.

Meanwhile on Air Temple Island Korra and Bolin were explaing what happened at the warehouse to a very disbelieving Asami and Tenzin.

"And she has blue fire!" Korra exclaimed with her hands in the air

"Blue fire? Now thats just ridiculous, the only person known to have blue fire was princess Azula and she was a prodigy" Tenzin argued

"Yeah, well, she used the fire to block the explosion, maybe she only focuses on heat deflection?" Bolin offered

Tenzin groaned "no matter how you try to spin it I'll have to see it to believe it, I mean come on, she doesn't have any feature a firebender normally has, most firebenders have gold, red, or brown eyes"

"Okay, look Korra, I belive you, but I really don't want to be talking about her without her here okay?" Asami said with a smile and took hold of Korra's hand "besides, you promised me you'd take me for a ride on Naga last night" Asami gave a small pout and Korra caved

"Fiiiine, but you should have been there, she yelled at Lin and Lin just took it"

"Woah, hold on, she did what? And she's still here to tell the tale?" Tenzin looked in disbelief "okay. Now I know your full of it, go have fun with Naga goodness, the things kids will make up these days" Tenzin huffed while walking back to where Pema and the kids were

The trio laughed while making their way to Naga, "youre serious aren't you? She has blue fire and yelled at Lin?"

"Yeah, I wouldn't believe it either but I saw it go down, Bolin and I both did

"Yeah, it was amazing, but. Hey, Korra, training tomorrow morning dont forget" Bolin made finger guns at Korra with a wink

"Yeah, will do, see you then Bolin" and with that Bolin made his way back to the arena while Korra and Asami rode around on Naga with and eventually settled down to have a picnic in the park.

Back at the station Lee managed to get into her uniform and was about to step into the room with her trainees. "Before we step in, whats my title? Officer Fox? Or?"

"Captain, you're leading the department so you have the title of Captain Fox" Lin said matter of factly "carry yourself like your leading an army into battle, you need to trust them and have them trust you. It won't be easy"

"You can say that twice" Lee rolled her eyes but Lin smirked

"It won't be easy"

"Oh my gods, shush it Lin" with a laugh she opened the door and schooled her expression while entering.

"Good afternoon officers" Lin started "as you know you're starting training to make up the new explosives division lead by Captain Fox. She will train each of you in the skills necessary. I'll let her take it from here"

Before Lee could speak an officer stifled laughter "I'm sorry Chief, I mean no disrespect, but do you really expect us to believe that little mousey here can teach us anything on explosives?"

Lin went to reprimand the officer but Lee held her hand up "no, Ive got this hun." She held her left hand behind her back and her right at her side when she walked taking a look at his badge she smiled when she read it "officer Tahn" looking up she smiled but had an irritated look in her eyes "it would serve you well not to underestimate little mousey. I've trained myself since I was seven to be a capable hand to hand fighter and bender. Not many have the ability with fire that I do, but most dont try to." She shifted her foot and created sparks "some have enough control to set a target" Taking a step closer to him he took a step back "i doubt you'd like to know if I can do that" she took the advantage of him being off balance to use a quick kick at his ankles to send him to the ground "and I would bet you'd like to know how to deflect and control blasts to lessen damage all around right?" She leaned down to him with a smirk

Tahn cleared his throat and gave a nod "yes ma'am"

"Good. Now, you'll notice I have you paired up in groups of two, one of you on each group is a firebender and the other is either a water, earth, or non bender. Both of you play an important role in bomb locating, identifying, diffusing, and deflecting." She walked along the middle flit of the ten groups. "While training with me I will teach you how to hear smell and feel the start of an explosion up to five seconds before it goes off. While with me I will teach you firebenders how to create blue fire to deflect and control the blast. And while with me everyone will learn how to dismantle a bomb thats been located and identified." Stopping at the end she turned to face the rooom of people staring at her "am I clear?"

When she received nothing but 'yes captain' in response she turned her focus to Lin who had what looked to be a proud smile, it was small, but if was there. "Alright, now, today I'll be demonstrating deflection five times in this room, you will all be outside to watch me. Chief Beifong will hold the remote and I will deflect minor explosions." She made her way to the front and helped Tahn up to his feet "Tomorrow and all of next week I will demonstrate and teach you how to create blue fire, am I understood?"

After they all cleared the room Lee shut off the lights in the room, taking her spot in the center while she waited for any signal. A nearly inaudible click sounded and she lit a small blue flame in each hand before bringing them together to deflect the explosion, the blue flames surrounded the explosion before taking it out and diminishing it to a meal singe on the ground. Extinguishing her flames she picked up on a the smell of rotten meat quickening lighting another flame and spinning on her heel she made a quick stance in time to stop the second explosion. The third she saw a small spark on the ceiling and deflected it with much more ease. The fourth and fifth were both clicks at the same time.

Once she finished deflecting the last two Lin swung the door open and clicked on the light. "So, any questions for today?" Lee asked while brushing a bit of dust off of her shoulder.

"Uh, yeah, how did nothing get destroyed? And how was this approved?" Tahn asked

"Simple answer for the first question, the heat from my fire is hotter than most explosions therefore it has the capability of extinguishing it when concentrated enough. As for the second question, ask your chief, I may be her soulmate but I do not speak for her, nor does she speak for me." Lee smiled "now, given that I had deflected a bigger explosion earlier today, I dont exactly have much energy left, so I'll leave you to your devices for the rest of the day."

"Can... can we try to deflect an explosion?" Tahn asked excitedly

"No." Lee said while fixing her posture "until you manage to create blue fire it is too dangerous for any of you to attempt what I did just now." Lee offered him a smile "I dont want you to get hurt because I didn't train you enough"

Tahn nodded "yes Captain"

"Thank you, now, Cheif Beifong will take over, I need to see a healer, my wrist got hurt on that last one" as she walked past Lin she bumped hips and whispered a "thank you" before heading out.

Back to the park Asami was ecstaticly explaining how the Satomobile worked to Korra who listened intently with a grin on her lips "wow, so, they use... what to power them?"

"Well the different models are powered by different things, some models are run by fire power and some by water power, but most are run by a little thing called Gasoline, its a liquid so Im sure you could bend it out of a car so it wouldn't even start up. But It helps run the motor" and Asami went on yet another rant about the mechanics involved with Korra watching with a bright smile. If this was who the universe chose for her then she was more than happy to accept.

#tlok oc #tlok spoilers #tlok korra #tlok bolin #tlok mako #tlok lin #i will die on my endless soulmate au hill #soulmate alternate universe #soulmates #soulmate #RayMakesSoulmates #MouseyFoxBomb

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dogbearinggifts · 5 years

Text

Missing in Action

Umbrella Academy

Author’s Note: This is Part Four of my Sheepdogs series. If this is the first time you’re seeing this series on your dash, I’d definitely recommend going back and starting with Part One, He Saw the Ghosts, a slight AU exploring what might have happened had Klaus spoken with a kinder vet in the VFW scene. Dead Ringer and Tattoos With Better Stories follow the vets he meets as they try to offer support while trying to determine just why he looks so much like an unidentified soldier in a fifty-year-old photo.

All installments are available on my AO3 account.

The man’s name was Arthur, and tracking him down had proven, from the beginning, to be more difficult than Richard liked.

Sometimes he enjoyed the search. He liked to find a clue and follow the breadcrumbs down a trail to a discovery both expected and surprising, examine and marvel at all the little facts he picked up along the way. He’d never been fond of puzzles, but after putting the metaphorical pieces together on more than one occasion, he thought he’d finally grasped the appeal.

But there was a difference between struggling to find where a puzzle piece fit and putting the picture together only to find pieces were missing.

The friend of a friend put Richard in touch with a friend, who wasn’t home but—thankfully—was up on answering messages. A call to the number Richard was given also ended at an answering machine, but he’d only waited a short while for a call back before his phone rang again.

“God, I’m sorry,” the friend—Trevor—said. “I forgot—he’s visiting one of his kids. You want the number where he’s staying?”

Under ordinary circumstances, Richard would have said no, he’d left a message and that would be fine; but thoughts of Klaus made him hesitate. Accept the number and interrupt the man’s vacation, or delay the call and delay answers until after Klaus showed his face again—perhaps long after.

Maybe it wouldn’t matter. He’d faced Klaus more than once without an answer to a single one of the questions the younger man raised; doing so again wouldn’t be impossible. The kid needed a place to run to, a friend to listen. Richard could provide that without knowing where he’d come from or where he’d served or even his last name.

And yet….

He couldn’t face Klaus again, not with all those questions nagging at him. Not with doubt gnawing away at compassion and suspicion threatening to push concern aside.

“You sure he won’t mind?”

“Nah. If he can’t talk, he’ll let you know.”

Richard wrote the number down, thanked Trevor and hung up, but didn’t dial it immediately. The digits scrawled on a piece of notepaper—they were just a number. A sequence that would bring an interlude to a stranger’s visit with his family, if not grind it to a halt. Maybe things would stop there, end with the voice on the other end of the line announcing that he knew next to nothing about the unnamed soldier in the photo.

But maybe not.

Richard brushed a thumb over the paper. It was just a number, but it felt like a key.

Arthur preferred to be called Art, and if a stranger intruding on a family visit bothered him, his voice didn’t show it.

“I’ve spent the last forty years bouncing around the whole country,” he said with a laugh when Richard apologized for the interruption yet again. “Probably made me hard to track down.”

“Just a bit.”

Art laughed again. “So you want me to come on down today, tomorrow, when?”

Richard glanced again at the number he’d taken down. He’d been told the man had somewhat settled in Arizona, but the area code looked familiar. “How close are you?”

“’Bout forty minutes away.”

So his daughter had wound up in one of those towns scattered around the city, the ones that lured tourists in with a cultivated quaintness and a Main Street designed to separate them from their money. “We’ve got his photo at the VFW here in town.”

“I can get there tomorrow. You got directions?”

Art beat Richard and Jim to the VFW, and despite only starting his walk once hands were shaken and introductions made, he beat them inside and reached the memorial wall a few paces before they did.

“This the guy?”

Even before he closed the gap, Richard knew which soldier his pointing finger highlighted. “That’s him.”

A smile tugged at one corner of Art’s mouth and then the other, but no sooner had it spread than it lost whatever innocence it might have had, turning wistful at best. He shook his head. “Should’ve known Klaus would show up in the last place you’d expect.”

The name was like a thunderclap. Richard tried to think of something, anything to say besides asking him to repeat it, something that wasn’t incoherent stammering.

“Klaus?” If Art heard Jim’s voice increase in pitch, he didn’t show it. “That’s his name?”

“His parents were ahead of the curve, I guess.”

“My great-grandpa’s name was Orange.” Richard wasn’t sure how he managed to get the words out at all. “Married a woman named Blossom and never heard the end of it.”

“Klaus. He have a surname?” Jim asked. It sounded casual enough, but Richard heard the strain in it, the forced nonchalance.

“Hargreeves.” Art frowned, looking to the photo again. “Always did think that was weird, once the Academy started making headlines.”

Klaus wasn’t too unusual of a name—not like Orange. It hadn’t been the sort of name most mothers would bestow upon their children back in the forties, but it had existed. So had Hargreeves. If the parents of a perfectly harmless baby boy who had done nothing to deserve it could nevertheless choose to saddle him with a name like Orange back in 1843, then a Mrs. Hargreeves in the 1930s or 40s could name her son Klaus.

Richard tried for an unhurried gait as he moved closer to the photograph of the unnamed soldier—toward Klaus Hargreeves, if Art wasn’t the perpetrator of the world’s strangest and most twisted practical joke. Maybe if he were able to remove it from its frame and study it without the glass, he’d be able to find some discrepancy between this Klaus and the one he knew. It was the light, he decided. The light kept him from seeing it clearly, gave an admittedly spooky coincidence more meaning than it deserved.

Out the corner of his eye, he saw Art frown. “You okay?”

Richard didn’t try for a smile, or even a reassuring tone. Art struck him as a smart guy—too smart to be brushed off with something like that. “You want to sit down?”

There was a table somewhat close to the photo, and that was where they set up operations. Jim fetched a few drinks from the bar and passed them around; Art held onto his beer a moment before speaking.

“You know, I figured I’d just come in and name the guy.”

Richard kept both hands wrapped around his soda as he tried to find the proper words. It was tempting to toss all the cards on the table and let Art sort them out—but there was still a chance that all this was a coincidence or something darker. Throwing everything out into the open could muddy the waters before they had an inkling of what lurked beneath.

“We’ve had some….weird shit happen, these last couple of days,” Jim said without looking up. “And it all ties back to that guy in the photo.”

“To Klaus,” Art said.

“Yeah,” Jim said with a hint of a sigh. “To Klaus.”

“We still don’t know shit about him,” Richard added, motioning between himself and Jim. “But you do. Maybe you can help us clear a few things up.”

Art fell silent, gazing down at his beer. Richard tried not to hold his breath, tried not to let anticipation and disquiet show on his face. He tried not to watch, too, but that proved fruitless. Slowly, Art’s expression softened. Slowly, it became a smile.

“The guy was a trainwreck.” He shook his head with a soft chuckle. “But God, he was fun.”

He leaned forward, resting an elbow on the table. Richard had seen that smile before, wry and expectant all at once—the smile of a man who knew he had some good stories to share.

“This one time, I was just sitting there, minding my own business, and Klaus walks up, plops himself into my lap and goes ‘Trust fall!’” He chuckled again. “Of course, he didn’t get to that part until I was already cussing him out.”

It wasn’t that Richard forgot the reason for Art’s presence. It wasn’t that he tossed the purpose of hearing his stories aside. But as Art told another story followed by another, as he relaxed into memories he may not have shared before, reason and purpose took a backseat. They remained in the back of his mind, but he was laughing too hard to hear their guidance.

Richard still hadn’t gotten his wind back from laughter at the last story when Art slapped the table. “The ghost moose! Almost missed that one.”

Jim coughed on his beer. “The what moose?”

Art leaned forward with his elbows propped on the table. He liked to do that and gesture broadly as he spoke, Richard had noticed. “So, Klaus didn’t know how to drive once he got in country.”

“How old was he again?” Richard asked.

Art frowned, as though he’d never considered the question before. “I…I dunno. Late twenties? Anyway.” He waved the question aside. “So we’ve got to teach him. He’s in the driver’s seat, bumping along—and there’s nobody for miles. Out in the middle of nowhere. But everything seems to be going great, he’s finally getting the hang of it, and then all of a sudden—bam! Guy slams on the brakes, almost pitches us all out. We’re all ‘What the hell, you almost got us killed,’ and he just stares at the road a minute and then he goes, ‘I thought I saw a….moose.’”

“You’re shitting me,” Jim said.

“Nope.” Art chuckled. “He said it just like that, too—like he knew he had all of two seconds to think of something good and that’s what he came up with.”

Richard gulped his soda. “A moose.”

“Yep.”

“In Vietnam.”

“That’s what the rest of us said, but he goes, ‘Well, maybe they lived here millions of years ago and now there’s a ghost moose walking around, ever think of that?’”

Art grinned through the laughter that followed.

“I’ll bet that story took off,” Richard said when he’d straightened out enough to speak.

“God, yes. After that, every goddamn shadow we saw was the ghost moose. Officers pull some new bullshit? Ghost moose. Mail’s delayed again? Ghost moose.”

Richard grinned. “Did the ghost moose have a name?”

“Spurlock,” Art said after another gulp of his drink. “Think it was Charlie who said we should call him Reginald. I thought it was a great name for a moose, but Klaus didn’t like that one, and since the ghost moose was his idea—”

“You wanted to go with something he liked,” Jim finished.

“Yep. Not sure where he came up with Spurlock, but it stuck.”

The name sounded familiar, but Richard couldn’t quite place it. He was still trying to match it to a face, a news article or anything else when Art nodded to the photograph on the wall.

“Every man in that picture came up with at least one story about the ghost moose. Dave started writing them all down one night. Gave the collection some long and important name, like For Those Who Have Seen Shall Never Unsee: Visages of Meese in Their Spectral Forms. But those stories...God, they were wild. That moose was into some weird shit.”

As much as he wanted to remain where the stories and laughter had brought him, Richard couldn’t ignore the nudging back toward the purpose of the whole meeting. “Dave….Katz?”

Art nodded. “He and Klaus were pretty close.”

Richard thought the way Art averted his gaze signaled something more behind those words, but the silence lasted less than a moment before Art shook his head slightly.

“Klaus was no idiot, though. Said some dumb shit, but he was a smart guy.”

Jim gave a wry smile. “Think everybody served with that guy sometime.”

“Better than a dumb guy who says a lot of smart shit,” Richard added.

“Yeah….” Jim exhaled, setting his beer on the table. “Served with him, too.”

“I tell you he knew Nixon would get elected?

Richard couldn’t say what about the question sent a jolt through him, but he’d learned years before to listen to that. Instincts could be off, but they could also be like a sound from far away, signaling danger not yet visible. “No.”

“Yeah, we were talking about the race, who everybody was gunning for—and Klaus goes ‘Eh, Nixon’s just gonna win anyways.’” Art shook his head again. “Figured it was the drugs talking, but come November, guess who’s president?”

The image of Klaus stumbling into a laundromat, covered in sweat and on his way to another club, resurfaced in Richard’s mind, but he pushed the thought back. “He knew?”

“Said it was a lucky guess.”

Richard looked to Jim, saw the same disquiet he felt reflected back, and pressed on. “Nixon won with—what? Forty-three percent?”

“Something like that.”

“And he just said Nixon was gonna win.”

“Like he knew,” Jim added.

“Look, the guy….” Art paused, pressed his lips together. “He wasn’t the only one who used, all right? Not by a long shot. And he said a lot of things like that. Just weird shit. Some of it made sense, some didn’t. But at the end of the day, he was a guy you wanted with you when shit hit the fan.”

Art sat back, and It took more of Richard’s willpower than he cared to admit to keep from slumping in his chair. He wasn’t defeated, he wasn’t chastised, because this wasn’t a fight. Just a misunderstanding. A misunderstanding he couldn’t clear up until he corralled the bizarre ideas and half-baked possibilities swirling through his head into something resembling coherent speech.

After a long silence, Jim was the one who spoke. “When’d he join your unit?”

“I don’t remember exactly when.” It was thoughtful, a consideration. There was still a hint of temper behind it, a note of irritation, but nothing more. “I know he did, since he wasn’t there from the beginning, but I don’t remember him ever joining. He was just kind of…there one day.”

“He ever say where he was from, when he got drafted?”

Art’s frown deepened. “Never did say. He was from here, though. Pretty sure.”

Jim’s questions had set Art pondering things he might not have pondered before—and sharpened the cold unease in Richard’s middle. Details no longer swirled past one another like debris in a tornado; they fell to the ground, snapped into place like pieces in a puzzle. He wasn’t sure he understood the picture they formed, but he needed to be sure. He nodded to the tattoo on Art’s bicep, the bottom half visible beneath his sleeve.

“Did everybody in your unit get that tattoo?”

“This one?” Art rolled up his sleeve, revealing the same tattoo Klaus had worn: a skull emblem below the words Sky Soldiers and 173rd Airborne Division. “Yep. Same place, same everything.”

Not quite the same. Where Art’s tattoo had faded and blurred with age, the one Klaus wore—the Klaus he’d met, at any rate—appeared more freshly inked. “How long was he there?”

Art looked down at the table. Any trace of mirth had vanished the moment questions took a turn he didn’t like, but Jim’s more routine inquiries had brought a sort of wistfulness, as if decent memories had begun to simmer at the back of his mind—the sort that needed no defense or explanation, only sharing. Every bit of cheer drained from him at Richard’s question.

“He didn’t even make it a year.”

Richard felt the bitterness in those words—had felt it time and again, when yet another friendship ended at the front line. He shut his eyes, trying to turn the flood of unwanted memories into a stream, turn the deluge into a current he could stand against.

“Him and Dave both. Fight ended, dust cleared. Dave was dead, Klaus was gone without a trace.” Art’s intake of breath shook. “Lost ‘em both that night.”

There was nothing to fill the silence that followed. Richard could have tried. Could have repeated some of the same platitudes he’d been given, knowing they’d remain empty no matter how much sincerity he poured into them.

Once again, Jim spoke first.

“You said they were close.”

It was an observation, and a gentle one at that. Art didn’t lift his gaze from the table, hands wrapped around his beer.

“You know, I think Dave might’ve been the first one to talk to him. Can’t say for sure, since I don’t remember when Klaus joined, but Dave? Saw the guy looking around like he still couldn’t figure out how the hell he wasn’t back in the States and thought That guy needs a friend.” His mouth tipped, more in rueful memory than genuine mirth. “There was a while, in the beginning, when the rest of us were wondering how the hell Klaus made it through basic without learning a goddamn thing, and Dave’s there with him, showing him what to do. Just all, ‘Try it that way. Do it like this. You got it.’”

The image of Klaus—the Klaus he knew—wearing David Katz’s dog tags surfaced in Richard’s mind. A quickly traded glance with Jim said his friend entertained similar thoughts—with similar disquiet.

“You never heard anything else, after he went MIA?” Richard asked.

Art exhaled. “I’m sure he’s dead by now.”

Now it was Jim’s turn to glance at Richard, meeting his gaze with a frown. Richard gave a small shrug, and Jim returned his attention to Art.

“You remember if he had any other tattoos?”

Art frowned. “Why?”

“Like Jim told you,” Richard said slowly, “there’s been some weird shit around that guy in the photo.”

“Yeah, but what do tats have to do with it?”

“We’re not sure we know, either,” Richard said.

Art gave them both a long look, let out a short sigh, and leaned forward. “Yeah. Had an umbrella on his forearm. I…always thought it kinda looked like the Academy logo, but never….”

His train of thought ended as his gaze shifted between Richard and Jim.

Richard knew he ought to speak. He didn’t trust himself to offer a full explanation, but he knew he should say a few words at least. Stammer something. Begin a sentence and end it too soon. But the more he fought for words, the more they eluded him. In his mind’s eye he saw Klaus concentrating on his knitting, Katz’s dog tags around his neck as the umbrella on his arm flicked in and out of view.

Klaus.

Klaus Hargreeves.

Klaus Hargreeves, haltingly asking about Richard’s time in Vietnam as he practiced stitches.

All the impossibilities bound up in that one, all the questions that went along with it, were nothing compared to that one certainty. He didn’t know how. He couldn’t say why. But in that moment, Richard would have bet money that the Klaus he knew, the Klaus Art knew, and the Klaus Reginald Hargreeves had adopted as an infant were one and the same.

Art’s gaze managed to pin them both down. “Are…you guys gonna tell me what’s going on, or….”

Richard drew a breath and then another. The first one shook, the second was steadier. He needed a way to phrase what he had to say, a means of softening it, but there was nothing. “I don’t think Klaus is dead.”

For a fraction of a second, Art’s face went entirely blank; then half a dozen emotions warred for dominance. Confusion. Shock. Anger. Relief. Despair.

Hope.

“If you’re shitting me—”

“I’m not. Swear to God, I’m not.”

“So what the hell made you say it?”

Richard opened his mouth to answer, traded a glance with Jim and thought better of it.

Jim drew a long breath and pointed to the photo on the memorial wall.

“Because I caught him crying over that picture just a few days ago.”

#the umbrella academy #umbrella academy fanfic #tua fanfic #sheepdogs series #umbrella academy spoilers #klaus hargreeves #dave katz #klaus/dave #original characters #original character #oc #ghost moose #klaus in vietnam #klaus and dave in vietnam #vietnam war #klaus and dave during vietnam #klaus has army buddies #army buddies who miss him

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steam-and-oil-blog · 6 years

Text

Hola, Prominence Part 1

As Promised, the first installment of the main works!

This AU has a slow start in the main story but rest assured you can ask away, spoilers or no! [spoilers are taged!]

So please enjoy! Story under the cut! [sorry mobile]

Victor tapped his foot impatiently, it has been an hour what was taking them so long, the engine they were bringing couldn’t have been that slow. Then the door opened.

“Victor, Victor come with us please.” The foreman asked, well more ordered in a less angry than the normal way. Victor stood from his half sit against the wall and straightened out his nice uniform. Victor followed his foreman, the sounds of yelling rang out through the works, echoing in the lofts and undiluted by the normal clatter of the works, Sunday was always an eerie day in the large building. Victor’s mind floated back to the yells as he neared the culprit, his view was blocked but a distinct voice scwalled in thick languages, almost British, but definitely not at all, oddly pitched, a bit high, but not squeaking.

“Ich hasse dich!” Was repeated over and over, a few “Fix eini!” and “Du kannst mir nichts vormachen.” thrown in for good measure. Victor saw his controller near where the noise emanated, standing with his same tired and worn expression he normally held on odd days at the works. He was never awake on Sundays, but today he looked two steps from the grave.

“Sir, what-” As Victor started to ask what was wrong, Topham turned, and stepped aside, Victor now saw a sight. A smaller masc, with sandy matted hair and old tattered clothes, was under an open crate, hiding under it, yelling and near tears. Victor gulped and took a few steps past his Controller to this unknown masc.

“Du… sprechen… English?” Victor asked, trying to remember the little bit of German he had gotten from the various engines and humans he had fixed and met over his years.

The masc looked at Victor, going quietly.

“Approbiert? Dampflokomotive oder Diesellokomotive? E-Lok?” The masc asked Victor took a complete blank.

“Z-Zug,” Victor replied, hoping that was an answer, a simple engine was all he was.

“Engine?” The masc finally replied in English, Victor took a breath.

“Yes, Engines, at this works, engine repairs,” Victor said, hoping to get through. The masc sat up, tossing aside their hiding crate.

“Works engine….” the masc said, he gestured at himself.

“I am Works Engine, need help?” Victor asked, the masc looked at him, then nodded faintly.

“Intake, running out of, inside.” the masc said, he hit a hand to their chest.

“Water? Food?” Victor leaned down in front of the Masc and offered a hand to help them stand.

“All.” the masc said, with Victor’s help, they stood, shaky on their knees they leaned onto Victor. Even with the masc being small for a masc, they were bigger than Victor, but not by much.

“Come, we shall fix you up, mis amigo,” Victor said, he cursed to himself a little for the Spanish but helped the masc along, the masc looked at him, and while not as sad any more they didn’t look happy at all.

Topham and the Foreman followed Victor and the masc, Victor lead the masc into the break room of the works. Victor put the masc in a chair at a small table, and he went to the fridge.

“Oh, so you are who takes lunches.” The foreman said with thick contempt.

“If someone leaves a lunch over the weekend they deserve it eaten,” Victor stated coldly, he opened a brown bag and pulled out an apple. He tossed it to the masc. Victor went to catch the apple again as he forgot this was deprived engine who probably had no reflexes any ways, but the masc caught it without blinking with toned reflex. Victor was impressed but forged on for more substance.

The masc took a gentle, well as gentle as you could, bite of the apple. The masc squeaked as they tasted the apple. Victor sprinted suddenly to the side of the masc. The masc wiped some dribblings from the apple off his face, he smiled and giggled tasting the sweet apple. Victor relaxed a small bit and patted the masc on the top of their head.

“Been a long time?” Victor asked.

“Lord yes, my dear works engine.” the masc said, the struggle gone as they crunched away at their apple.

“Well, it will never be too long again,” Victor informed, the masc looked up at him and smirked slightly, a warm gaze in their eyes.

“So warm, Mr Works engine. May I catch your name?” The masc asked.

“Victor,” Victor held a hand out to the masc, the masc took his hand.

“The Prominence.” the masc said quickly.

“Fancy name, old engine?” Victor asked as he stepped away from Prominence.

“Old enough, what are you, a gen 5?” Prominence asked Victor stared at him a second before going for a glass of water.

“First, for Crovan's gate at least, you know a works engine before?” Victor filled the glass quickly and swiftly brought it back to Prominence. Handing it to him. Prominence puffed and took a drink.

“Know a works engine, know a works engine, Victor, you obviously don’t know anything about me.” Prominence put the glass on the table and leaned forwards. “Victor I’ll tell you what, find a works engine more experienced than me, I bet on my brass you won’t,” Prominence smirked, Victor leaned closer to Prominence.

“1901,” Victor said, a brag in his voice. Prominence laughed a little.

“1853, youngn’, and still kicking to boot,” Prominence said proudly; Victor almost choked on Prominence’s words.

“So, what brings you here, grand-puff,” Victor asked, sitting at the table.

“Ah, your, or should I say, our control could tell you, scrapling,” Prominence said, they turned to the stout man in the corner of the room with the foreman.

“I purchased him from a scrap monger, his shell will arrive in a few days,” Topham informed quickly, Victor nodded and looked at Prominence, he gave him a quick vertical glance.

“You’ll need clothes, and some tools, also you should adjust to railway policy.” Victor listed quickly, Prominence took a hard gulp of their water.

“I-I I am n-not changing f-for a-anything!” Prominence squalled out, sputtering and choking on their water.

“Whoa there mis amigo just some hair trimming and colour swatching, don't think bad it will be ‘kahy?” Victor slammed out in a native speed.

“What about my hair it's been like this for decades, and my eyes? It's called Alexandria Genesis and my builder suffered from it it's out of respect!” Prominence snapped, their grip tightening on their glass to the point it started to creak.

“Wasn't your builder albino?” Topham interjected, Prominence snapped a new glare at the man.

“Don't you dare talk about what my builder is or isn't.” Prominence hissed with vigour, Topham nodded and took a few steps towards Prominence.

“We aren't saying that you have to change drastically, but it's the law that you have to appear human based on certain parameters, we just don't want you to get in trouble,” Topham told, he put two warm hands on Prominences shoulders.

“This Steam works has rules too, you know.” The foreman snapped, Topham shot the man a glare.

“You don't have to be here Mr Yokaira.” Topham boomed, the foreman puffed and rushed himself out of the room and presumably the works. “Prominence, why don't you get comfy for tonight and tomorrow I'll take you to get some new clothes and we can find you an acceptable look, and for now Victor you can get them something like coveralls.” Topham gave Prominence a soft pat on the head, and walked to Victor, whispering something in the Cubans ear he patted his head and excused himself from the room. Victor was quiet as Prominence finished their glass of water and their apple.

“So, how long were you a works engine before you- ahm.”

Prominence looked at Victor, and smiled.

“Oh wow, let’s see, I worked the line 9 months, sat for 5 months, so 1854 to about 1947 I think, it was after the second great war. I know that for sure.” Prominence said, stretching a little and standing. Victor looked at them blankly.

“T-That would make you over 150 you shouldn’t even be running why are you getting restored and you have survived this long!” Victor shot out, standing quickly.

“Yeah, works engines don’t really retire, unless forced of course.” Prominence stated, they started to mill around the room looking at things.

“I understand that, but I mean normally the only engines who get restored at that old are the ones who are, you know, you have heard of them.” Victor said honestly, Prominence turned to Victor, and smirked.

“I am plenty memorable, you just haven’t connected me yet.” Prominence chuckled, they leaned over a couch and picked up a remote.

“Hey we can talk about new tech later, you can-” Prominence turned on the TV and started to flip through channels. “How do you know how to-”

“I used to live with a family, kinda like a pet, they wanted to rebuild me but they never finished.” Prominence said, they settled on a public access channel and leaned over the couch, they started to engross theirmself in the program.

“That sounds interesting but don’t you want to clean up, or see the shed?” Victor asked.

“In time, in time….” Prominence stayed engrossed in the programming. “Voraw I shall.”

“What?”

“Jiue or voraw, today or tomorrow, it’s a how to learn the language program, it’s kinda like Manx Irish, its cute. Can you speak it?” Prominence said.

“Oh, oh Surdian, no, I don’t think to many people speak it.” Victor said, he walked up and leaned on the couch next to the new engine.

“Faarkey to loey to hawin, sea to lake to river, so cute.”

“You are a mad man.”

“Crawp pørn Rheneas, tree stream Divided Waterfall.”

“That’s what his name means?” Victor said, he snuggled a bit into the couch now engrossed. “That’s amazing I thought it was just nonsense!”

“Hey that is quite the handsome little narrow gauge, oh he even has a friend. Skarloey is nice looking as well.” Prominence purred, Victor glanced at them and back to the TV. “Do we work on them or do they have their own shop?”

“We work on them, but only when it’s really bad.”

“I’ve always wanted to work on narrow gauge regularly.”

“You seem to like a lot of things.”

“I appreciate pretty much everything, old age I figure.”

Victor looked at the engine next to him, and smiled.

“You don’t look it, with the odd coloured hair, and the smooth skin, a lot of engines I know much younger than you look much older.” Victor chuckled, Prominence looked at Victor, and cracked a small smirk.

“It’s just how the corporeal forms, youngn’,” Prominence went back to the program happily listing off Surdic with the screen.

“1901 isn’t that young any more.” Victor said, taking his attention to the screen as well.

“Eh, you’re younger than me. But I can see why a first gen wouldn’t like it.”

“First gen is a stretch mis amigo, I wasn’t even here until the fifties or sixties.”

“I’m guessing you were still the first one here, that’s what matters for you later first gens.” Prominence laughed a little. “I remember when we made that change, took almost a year of correspondence.”

“Let me guess, you are a true first gen?”

“Debatable, I wasn’t built for my job, so some don’t like to think of me with that prestige.” Prominence snorted. “Like any of us were meant to be flawed.”

“Hey, it looks like the show is over, come on let’s get you something clean to wear, the showers aren’t far, you can clean off and I’ll get you some coveralls.” Victor said, Prominence nodded and turned the TV back off.

“So where are the showers, old chap.” Prominence piped, Victor nearly choked at the unfitting turn of phrase but Prominence even started to laugh at their self, the two laughed for a small moment. “No really, bitte?” Prominence said as he calmed a bit.

“Next room, labelled locker room, go in the fem one, if some one shows up you are least likely to get caught. We don’t actually have any fem employees any more.” Victor said, Prominence nodded and made their way over to the disclosed location. Victor made sure he went in the correct door.

Alone, Victor took a puff of air as he finally relaxed a small bit.

“Uf, largo día largo día, pero él es lo suficientemente bueno, me pregunto cómo vamos a tratar a largo plazo, va a ser un puñado.” Victor said to himself, his native language ringing in his ears comforting him in a gentle way.

Victor slowly made his way to get some of the basics for Prominence, he hummed to himself as he walked along, checking out a window at glance it did indeed look like Kevin was asleep so he could take his time taking care of the new engine at his works. Once back to the locker room, Victor peaked in, he saw and heard a shower running but didn’t see Prominence in the slightest.

“Hola?” Victor called, he walked over to the shower still, on the floor Prominence was sitting against a wall, trying to pick dirt and rust from their knotted hair.

Prominence looked up at Victor and smirked a little. “It’s been, quite a while.” Prominence laughed awkwardly, embarrassed slightly.

“I’ve seen engines much worse before, now why don’t you finish up just your body, and I can help you with the hair grime in a sink.” Victor said with a smile at the German, Prominence nodded, and quickly standing finished their shower. Victor passed over a towel an the coveralls without hesitation, Prominence dried their self off and put on the coveralls.

“My hair has always been a wreck of dirt, I must admit.” Prominence said as Victor pulled them to a sink.

“Well, we will deal with it, mis amigo.” Victor chirped.

“For an American, you sure do use a lot of Spanish.” Prominence commented as they were pulled down into a sink. Victor scoffed.

“I’m Cuban, always-”

“You are obviously a Baldwin engine, I haven’t even seen you’re shell and I can tell, raised in Cuba though, that’s a country that never really exported it’s engines.”

“Alright, Mr. big shot, how can you tell?” Victor snapped at the German he was now picking rust and dirt out of.

“I know you are short any ways but you have a very bulldog like stance, Baldwin engines are very bulldog like for whatever reason. Closed in and forward, It’s odd on some engines but not on you. Also you are very wide for you’re size, American all the way.” Prominence chimed, their voice bouncing off the porcelain sink.

“Observant and knowledgeable, why were you ever scraped.” Victor said as he poured some water over Prominence’s hair to try and get more out.

“Well I mean, I just-”

“VICTOR!” A voice called, echoing in the semi large room and cutting off Prominence. Victor cringed a little and sighed. He pulled Prominence out of the sink, hair mostly clean.

“Time to meet the help.” Victor said, handing Prominence a towel to dry off their hair.

Suddenly the door burst open and in fumbled and fell in a smaller masc with messy off blond hair, a face full of innocence and freckles, with a large smile.

“Victor! Victor! I saw a shooting star!” the masc yelled, standing and running to Victor, who made a sharp noise as the masc ran into him.

“Oh! That is really special, Kevin!” Victor said, ruffling the hair on the masc.

“Ooo, who is that Victor?” Kevin asked, bouncing over to Prominence.

“This is The Prominence, he is a new project, who might be working with us when he is done!” Victor told Kevin, Kevin nodded and held a hand to Prominence. Prominence shook the cranes hand softly.

“Nice to meet you, Prominence!” Kevin called.

“Hello, Kevin,” Prominence said, softening a little at the crane.

“So what did you do before!” Kevin asked, Victor sighed.

“Prominence is tired, Kevin, let-”

“I was the head Works Engine of the Works Engine council and the top ranking Works Engine Mentor of Great Britain, and I worked at several different Works including the Doncaster, Crewe, and Swindon.” Prominence said quickly, a small smirk lining his face as both Victor and Kevin paled.

“Santo infierno mis amigo.” Victor said awestruck, Kevin just stared at Prominence.

“What?” Prominence said blankly.

“T-that's insane, how old are you?” Kevin asked.

“158 years or so, but age isn't anything to this.” Prominence leaned over Kevin a little and smiled at him, they ruffled the small cranes hair a small bit.

“My hair?” Kevin asked looking confused.

“You head.” Prominence said, Victor smiled and looked outside.

“Ois, we better get some sleep. Look at that moon.” Victor sighed, he started to the works door, Kevin skipped after him and Prominence surprisingly skipped along quickly as well. Outside Prominence stopped.

Victor looked back at them and cocked his head to the side.

“What's wrong?”

“There so still and clear, I haven't seen them in so long, London is really no place to see the stars.” Prominence called, a quiver in their voice and a mist in their eyes. Victor stepped over and put a hand up on Prominence's shoulder.

“You can look all you want, Welcome to the island of Sodor, Prominence.”

Prominence took a breath and looked at the ground. “Thank you, dear Victor.”

“Come on, let us get some sleep before tomorrow, it will be a big day.” Victor said, he pulled Prominence along by their sleeve.

#Victortheworksengine #Sir Topham Hatt #kevinthecrane #theprominence #ttte #ttte au #story #main story #sugar cane #minion lifter #the fat hatt #mountain break #steam and oil #Hola Prominence

7 notes · View notes

mosylufanfic · 7 years

Note

Killervibe 31?

31. prostitute/client au

This was so interesting to write, thank you! Also please forgive any historical inaccuracies, I kind of did the bare minimum of research. Obviously NSFWish for topic.

Strictly Business

The bedsprings creaked as Caitlin sat up, shaking out her wild hair. She snagged a silky robe from a hook and wrapped it around her body as she moved around the bed, running the tips of her fingers over the naked shoulders and side of the man in her bed.

Cisco rolled to his back and put his arms behind his head, smiling at her. “So what’s this I hear about you getting a telephone installed?”

She sat at her vanity, picking up a comb to work it through the disordered waves. “Where did you hear that?”

“A little bird told me.”

She rolled her eyes, smiling. “Would that little bird be the sheriff’s deputy, by any chance?”

“It might.”

Of course it was. She’d talked to Dr. Allen about the telephone line, and the Allen man wasn’t born who could keep a secret for more than five minutes. He’d told his son, of course, and Barry had naturally passed it on to his best friend.

Cisco sat up, unashamed of his nudity, propping his elbows on his knees. She eyed him in the mirror, then checked the time.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t enough left of his hour to do much of anything. He was one of the few clients she charged by time rather than by the acts that they wanted, and she didn’t feel right letting him go into a second hour when it was so close to house curfew.

Of course, his mind was still stuck on gadgets. “Why do you need a telephone? Are fellas going to call in an appointment with one of your girls from the next train station down the track?”

She paused, comb halfway down her hair, to consider that. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea. I’ll consider it. But do you know the amount of business correspondence I have to keep up with? And how long it takes? A telephone could cut that down to nothing.”

“Seriously, you’re going to pay all that money to run a line from Starling City, knock holes in your walls, install and learn new machinery, just so you can terrorize your suppliers more efficiently?”

She arched her brow at him. “I saw how much of your whiskey you left behind downstairs. It’s swill, and that new liquor supplier thinks he can pawn that stuff off on me? He doesn’t know who he’s dealing with. He definitely needs to be terrorized.”

Cisco snorted. “Not that you’re wrong about the whiskey,” he said. “But is that the only reason?”

She scowled. His eyes were entirely too knowing. He always thought he had her all figured out, and the hell of it was, he was usually right.

“Look,” she said, swiveling on the padded bench. “It’s 1895. In five short years we’ll be in a brand-new century, but you’d never know it by this town. The modern world will leave Central City behind if we don’t at least make the attempt to keep up. Now, we could put it to the town council, and they could argue and debate and levy taxes and hire cronies and all in all, it’d be ten years before we got ‘phone service out there. Or - ” She pointed at her chest. “One of the town’s wealthiest businesswomen could just get it done. I know which one I’d prefer.”

He grinned at her. “And once a line gets run out here, it’s that much easier for, say, the doctor to get a ‘phone. And the sheriff’s office. And the reverend - ”

“- and anybody that people need to get ahold of. Not to mention if enough people sign up for telephone service, we might have our own switchboard in a few years.”

“And a switchboard will bring jobs with it.”

She eyed him. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?” To her regret, he reached over to the chair next to the bed and picked up his underwear and his pants.

“Looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” he asked, buttoning his pants. “Like that whole ice queen act is a front? Like the so-terrifying Madam Frost is really just Caitlin Snow, civic-minded marshmallow?”

“It’s my home too.” She tossed her head and twisted around to face the mirror again. “And it makes good business sense.”

“Sure, yeah, business sense.” He nudged her aside and sat down next to her on the bench. “I gotcha.”

Her comb hit a snag, and she growled. “Dammit, Cisco, why do you always play with my hair so much? I have a knot the size of Montana in here.”

“But it’s so pretty,” he said, dropping his head to nuzzle her shoulder. “You’re so pretty.”

All the work she put into it, she’d better be.

He brushed his lips over her neck, creeping up her throat toward her lips. He paused with his mouth against her cheek. “How much longer?”

She checked the clock that sat prominently on her dressing table. “Five minutes,” she said.

He sighed against her skin and lifted his head. Though he respected it, she knew he thought it was an arbitrary boundary. But the line had to be drawn somewhere, and she didn’t kiss for pay.

“So when is it getting installed?” he asked, taking the comb from her and gently working at the stubborn knot.

“Still working out the details,” she said, letting herself soften into his touch. He was far gentler than she was, and it was nice having anybody do these kinds of things for her. She’d spent so long on her own. “The company rep seems to think he should get a few perks from the House of Frost.” She gave a daintily contemptuous snort.

“Boy, he really doesn’t know you, does he?”

“We only accept cash for sex,” she said. “It’s a very simple rule.” And one she broke for nobody.

He ran the comb from her scalp to the ends of her hair, then smoothed his hand over the waves. “I’d like to see that.”

She gave her a look over her shoulder. “My, I didn’t know you leaned that way. I’ll have to set something up.”

He laughed and bumped her shoulder with his. “You know I meant the telephone.”

She leaned into him, smiling. “I know. And you’ll be the first one I tell. I couldn’t let you miss it.”

The clock on her vanity chimed softly, and they both glanced over at it. She looked back at him, feeling her heart flutter. “Three o'clock,” she said. “Your hour’s up.”

He reached in his pocket and handed her a few bills, already ready for her. With any other client, she would have counted them and then tucked the roll into her bosom or her pocket before walking him to the door.

With Cisco, she just took the folded bills and went to her wardrobe to slip them into the slotted safe on the high shelf. He was the only client who knew where it was. Although not the combination. She wasn’t completely a fool.

She shut the closet door, turned back, and took his face in her hands to kiss him. His arms slid around her waist, pulling her down onto his lap. She put her arms around his neck, luxuriating in his mouth on hers, in the softness of his touch, in his skin under her palms.

This little pocket of time every week was the only thing in her life that wasn’t about business. It was just for her, and him. She’d fucked near every man in Central City, but she only ever kissed Cisco.

When the clock chimed the quarter-hour, they were leaning together, foreheads touching, breathing each other’s air. “I guess it’s time,” he said regretfully.

She nodded and got off his lap. She found a pair of feathered mules to slip her feet into while he put on his shirt, suspenders, and jacket, and took his hand to lead him out of the room. They walked down the stairs like that, fingers entwined, pausing on the landing to kiss a few more times, whispering to each other.

At the door, he kissed her one last time, soft as duckling down. "I almost forgot. Iris wants an interview about the telephone.“

“She should ask her father-in-law. The town doctor reads much better in that respectable paper of hers.”

“She wants to talk to you.”

Caitlin tipped her head to one side, considering. Iris Allen, nee West, seemed much more willing to acknowledge Caitlin’s existence, both in print and in person, than most women were.

But all the same, Iris was a respectable married lady, and she was already plenty scandalous for being a colored woman married to a white man and running the town newspaper. Interviewing the town madam would be bad enough without it getting out she’d gone to the actual brothel.

“Let her know I’ll be at the telegraph office at three this afternoon, if she’d like to catch up with me.”

“I’ll do that.” He kissed her again. “Next Tuesday?”

“As always,” she said.

He kissed her one last time and let her hand go, settling his hat on his head. “Gideon,” he said to the doorman.

“Mr. Ramon,” he said. “You have a nice night.”

“You as well.” His eyes flicked over Gideon’s broad shoulder to meet hers, and he gave her one last smile before heading down the steps to the street. She watched until he turned the corner, heading for the junk shop he ran, fixing everything that could be fixed and disassembling anything that couldn’t. He lived in two small rooms above the shop, which she’d never seen.

She shut the door.

“We’re all clear?” she asked Gideon, who was her doorman, her bartender, her bouncer, and kept the appointment book.

“Yes, ma'am. Mr. Ramon was the last.”

She nodded in satisfaction, glancing at the grandfather clock that was just starting to chime the half-hour. The House of Frost operated on a strict schedule. The kitchen closed at midnight, the bar closed at two, and anyone not employed by the house had to be gone by three-thirty. “Do I need to see to any of the girls?”

“No, ma'am. Dr. Allen stopped by. He says hey, and that he’ll need to push back the checkup. Mrs. Queen is having her baby, it seems, and he doesn’t know how long it’ll be.”

She pursed her lips, considering. The girls’ monthly checkup was important to her, but babies waited for no man. “Tomorrow will be fine.” She could use the time later today to get caught up on some things, like giving that liquor distributor what-for.

“Oh, and that Vandal Savage fellow came around.”

She whirled. “After what he did to Maisie last week? The gall. Why didn’t you come get me?”

“I ran him off,” he said. “It was all right.”

“Still,” she said.

“Ma'am, the girls and I try our best not to disturb you when you’re with Mr. Ramon.”

She stood still, feeling her cheeks heat. She averted her eyes for a moment. “Yes, well. That’s very kind of you, I’m sure. Go ahead and lock up, and you have a nice night.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

She climbed the stairs, listening to the soft noises of Gideon doing his last checks.

In her room, she washed and cleaned herself and took out her sponge, rinsing it well with vinegar before putting it away until her first client tomorrow. She braided her hair to keep it from tangling in her sleep and put on her face cream for the night. All that done, she peeled off the silky robe and kicked off her shoes. She considered putting on a nightgown, but opted to climb into her bed naked. She nuzzled her face into the pillow, breathing in Cisco’s scent, and pulled the blankets up around her.

It was why she always saved the last hour on Tuesday nights for Cisco, so that once a week, she could go to sleep in a bed that smelled kindly and sweetly of the man she loved.

FINIS

#Caitlin Snow #Cisco Ramon #Killervibe #fanfiction #mosylufanfic lives up to her damn name #historical AU #cw: sex work #cw: period-accurate racial terms #also mosylu is a nerd #also also I know Gideon presents as female but it worked better to make him male for this #the flash #thedupshadove

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dear-chaton · 7 years

Text

We Fly By Street Signs ~ I. Gasoline;

Archive of Our Own Chapters; 1 2

Alright so I found an old story from a year ago and decided to revamp it into a proper drag racing au, so please enjoy the first installment of We Fly By Street Signs

Or the one where drag racing was Marinette’s whole life until a certain bachelor came along

I. Gasoline; 1982

Adrenaline. That hormone secreted by the adrenal glands, especially in conditions of stress, increasing rates of blood circulation, breathing, and carbohydrate metabolism and preparing muscles for exertion

One moment Marinette was staring at the starting line, Alya holding a checkered flag above her head while a crowd gathered around her car and the other racers. The reigning champion revved her engine causing the newbie named Ivan, to do the same. Her best friend since they were little, Nino Lahiffe was parked on the other side and laid a long one his horn.

❝Shut up will ya!❞ She shouted, earning a wild chuckle from the man. Nino gave her a salute before Marinette called her attention on the volunteer waving the flag in front of them. Alya Cesaire, Marinette knew of the girl since primary school and knew she made the right decision to have her be the referee if Nino’s drooling was anything to go for.

❝Racers, start your engines!❞ Marinette and the other racers revved their engines as the crowd around them cheered. Marinette knew every face in the crowd that night, it was hard not to know when she came around these parts to race every weekend. Nino began to taunt the newbie as Marinette began to breathe in deeply, all noise ceasing to exist. She placed her hands firmly on the steering wheel.

There was peace for what seemed like forever but in reality, it only lasted a millisecond as a bullhorn was released and the three racers peeled away from the starting line.

The newbie proved to be a newbie when his car stalled as Marinette and Nino took off. And anyways, this was just between Marinette and Nino, he owed her for pulling strings to get Alya to come tonight and there was no way she was letting the jerk win to impress the girl of his dreams.

It was a simple around the block race, if Alya knew her stuff like Marinette knew the reporter did, then she would know this was nothing to fuss about. Still, it was nice to see Nino get his act together, even if it was for this girl. Things weren’t always so happy and well between them but she was just honestly happy that he was showing part of his old personality again.

That was a story for another time as Marinette took a hard right in order to cut Nino off. Tired squealed, and she knew she was in the lead when she heard Nino cursing at her.

❝Ladybug!❞ Hearing her alter ego shouted making Marinette laugh in delight, her face was sure to start hurting from all the smiling she had been doing. What she didn’t expect however was for Ivan to take the previous turn with ease and speed past her with the bird held high. Marinette scoffed, she wasn’t about to get bested by this newcomer and switched gears to go even faster. Tires screeched behind her, Nino coming to speed with her with his window down.

❝That dirty bastard! He rammed me into the fence and overtook me!❞ He shouted, before speeding ahead. Marinette saw that his paint job was now horribly ruined and knew what she had to do. These were neighborhood races, everyone knew everyone and one of the rules was to never mess up someone’s ride. You were immediately disqualified so that meant, even if Ivan crossed the finish line, it wouldn’t count unless Nino or she passed it.

❝1v1, oh you’re on Lahiffe.❞ Marinette mumbled as she pressed on the gas just enough to speed past Nino and Ivan in the final stretch. It was not even up for debate her win. Nino was sulking before he got out of his car, only to stop when Alya walked by.

❝Ladybug! Ladybug! Ladybug!❞ Everyone cheered, hoisting Marinette onto their shoulders. Nino eventually did join in on the cheering, he knew that Marinette was fair and deserved it. He stepped up to the crowd as Marinette was let down from her throne, fanning the crowds as they silenced.

❝Now to celebrate Miss Lady Luck’s win, are you all ready for the party of the year?❞ He yelled, fist pumping the air. Cheers broke out again as Marinette laughed, surging forward to give Nino a fast side hug and stole his snapback.

The brunet chuckled, giving her a friendly shove and stealing his hat back. The crowd disperses fairly quickly, leaving just them two as they walk to their cars, laughing quietly to themselves. They’re almost there when suddenly Nino stiffens and Marinette knew she had 0.2 seconds to leap away before he puked. But it never came as he swayed from side to side, reaching out blindly for her.

❝I’m fine, just get me to my car.❞

❝You must be insane to think I’m letting you drive in this condition.❞

❝Oh, c’mon I promise Alya I would be there at the party.❞

❝You're sweating and almost fainted, Nino are you taking your medication?❞

❝Of course, I am Mari.❞ Nino wiped the sweat off his brow and looked at her with sadness.

❝It's just a little episode, cmon I might actually get to talk to Alya.❞ Marinette bit her lip in thought, he looked well enough and this was the first time in while that he had an episode. She groaned and Nino gave out a little whoop in excitement.

❝Fine, but I’m driving so you don’t have another accident.❞

❝What about old Jade, I just can’t leave her out here in the open, all alone.❞

❝We can always pick her up tomorrow, when we, oh I don’t know, go on about our normal lives?❞

❝Fine, just let me pick something up at the apartment.❞

❝If you forgot protection I swear to god Nino,❞

❝Mari! No, I wanted to show Alya my new mixtape!❞ Nino blushed as they got situated in her car.

As Marinette drove away from the street, she had to ask.

❝How’s your leg?❞ Nino groaned, rolling up his left pant leg to reveal the same old prosthetic he’s had for the last two years.

❝Still intact Mari, no need to worry.❞

❝But there is, Nino this is the fourth time in two months you’ve nearly passed out while racing!❞

❝I’m fine, honestly Marinette it was two years ago. I got the best of the best right here.❞ Nino knocked on his leg, a knock on the metal sounded back and she sighed. Marinette had to believe him, Nino was always stronger than she thought but that didn’t mean she could just erase the accident from her mind just like that.

❝Please tell me you’ve been using the ointment at least.❞

❝Yes, mother.❞

❝And do you still have the cover or do you need another one. Your birthday is coming soon, right?❞ Silence answers her and Marinette glances at Nino, who was trying his hardest to look stern.

❝Mari, I know you blame yourself, but you know I don’t right? I’m fine as can be.❞

❝But you can’t race professionally.❞ Tears that she had so desperately tried to hold back fell freely. A hand came up and wiped them gently away as she pulled into their driveway.

❝Who says I want to?❞

❝You! You told me your entire life that you want to be a super cool racecar driver and it was your dream Nino, you just can’t give that up.❞

❝Marinette, you and I know fully well that you would keep me off the track even before I got this thing. If anything, you belong out there, not me.❞ Nino sighed, running a hand through his messy locks.

❝Its high time that I stop fooling myself and quit this recklessness, plus I’m not quite ready to lose more than my leg, let alone you.❞ Marinette laughed, as Nino reached over the console to give her a hug.

❝Alright, I’ll be right back unless you want to change clothes?❞ Marinette looked down at her oily rags for clothes and took the car keys. The door to their second-floor apartment was already open, seeing Nino had a head start, Marinette swung it close as she headed to her room to change.

The advantages of having a best friend since you before you could walk; automatic roommate.

The disadvantages of said best friend were as such. Marinette heard a crash come from Nino’s room and dropped everything she was holding, sprinting to his side of the apartment only to find him grinning wildly with a CD in his hands.

❝You are going to be the death of me one day I swear.❞

❝Nice bra.❞ Marinette squealed, covering her chest as she ran from Nino’s room and his stupid laughter.

❝Last time I’m checking if you’re dead or not!❞ She shouted from the safety of her room.

❝Love you!❞

❝Yeah yeah, love you too❞

Within half an hour, they were ready, changed and on the road. Nino was driving this time as Marinette had no clue where the party was in the first place. She wasn’t even the party girl type, but she just couldn’t miss out the moment Nino started blubbering in front of Alya, it was too pure.

❝Oh, I forgot to mention but one of my buddies from school is going to be there.❞

❝Oh no, if this is another one of your ploys to get me on the dating scene, it's not happening.❞

❝No! God Marinette, I learned my lesson after Nathanael,❞ He rubbed his arm subconsciously, Marinette had a good arm when she needed to.

❝I’m just saying, he doesn’t get out much and I would appreciate it if you didn’t bite his head off.❞

❝Just as long as you don’t set me up on another blind date, you got yourself a deal. And when have I ever bit anyone’s head off?❞

❝Are you kidding me right now? Are you serious, do you have a temperature or something? Need I remind you of secondary school where you and Chloe fought like every day and I’m still in shock that you never got suspended.❞ Marinette mumbled to herself as Nino continued to list off her encounters with rude people.

❝Alright I get it,❞

❝Good, I thought for a second you were Marinette’s doppelganger. And since when do you have a ladybug bra?❞ Marinette squealed, avoiding Nino’s poking finger as he steered with his knee.

❝Drive like a normal person Nino!❞

❝Funny you say that miss drag racing queen. What am I, your chauffeur or something?❞

❝Hey, you offered to drive, not me.❞ Nino huffed, taking a right turn before they rolled into a quiet neighborhood.

❝Shit, I think I forgot my phone! Mari, you gotta lend me yours so I can text Alya.❞

❝Nope, the last time I gave you my phone I got a random girl asking to hook up again.❞

❝I told you that I’m interested in Alya and that was one time, I was young and stupid, Mari, please!❞ Marinette all but throws her phone at him, waiting for the telltale noise of typing before jumping out of the car.

❝Thanks, Mari, I owe you!❞

❝Don’t forget your mixtape and we’ll call it even.❞ Nino gave her phone back, locking the car and pulled her up to the house.

❝Have some fun Mari, and don’t get too into your head!❞ Nino shouted over the loud music before disappearing, typical.

Well, she was surely going to show him, as she made her way to the kitchen. Little did she know, this was the party that would surely change her life.

#miraculous-ladybug #ml au #drag racing au #modern au #college au #marinette dupain cheng #nino lahiffe #alya cesaire #adrien agreste #fluff and angst #fic: we fly by street signs #Fic: wfbss #Kiwi talks shit #kiwi writes like shit #lol nah

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