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kayluh1915 · 3 years

Text

Beautiful People

Paring(s): Pedro Pascal/Female Reader

Words: 5,378

Warnings: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Disorder, Medication Discussions, Insecurities, and Panic Attacks.

You and Pedro have been secretly dating for a few months now after a chance meeting. You both agreed that it was time to reveal your relationship to the public and chose to do so by accompanying him at The Oscars, but your anxiety does a great job of making you think that you don't deserve it.

DISCLAIMER!

This story is based on the song Beautiful People by Ed Sheeran & Khalid, but this IS NOT a songfic. It just gave me this vibe of Pedro walking down the red carpet with someone who doesn't quite feel like they belong and he comforts her by saying he doesn't really belong either and proceeds to list why they're better off because of it. I dunno, It just sounded sweet.

As always, comments are welcomed and encouraged.

You can also follow me on Twitter if you'd like. My life is boring, but I might be able to make you laugh if I’m lucky.

Enjoy!

(PS: Pepe is a real person. He was my Spanish teacher my first semester of college... and yes, he really went to Cincinnati every Friday to gamble)

Read on AO3

My Masterlist

The frigid February air was like icicles on your skin, sending a full-blown shiver down your spine as you hurried out of the Science building and towards the dining hall. It was nearly noon and you’ve had only had a banana and a bottle of water this morning, so lunch sounded pretty great right about now… maybe a cup of hot cocoa as well.

The dining hall was about a three-minute walk from the Science building, more than enough time for the cold to seep through the layers of your coat and deep into your bones. The possibility of a cup of cocoa turned into an inevitability, you running for the hot beverage machine as soon as your student ID was swiped.

You sat at your usual spot, hanging your backpack on the back of the chair before taking a greedy sip of the hot drink. The warmth was a godsend, the sugary beverage warming your icy hands with a pleasant hum tumbling from your lips.

“You make noises like that in bed?” Someone asked, snapping you out of your warming daze. It was your roommate and closest friend, Lauren. You snorted at her remark, almost spitting out a sip of your drink.

“I thought you had Spanish class at noon?”

“Nah. It’s Friday, remember?”

“Oh yeah, gambling day.” Like you, Lauren was a music student. It was how you had met nearly four years ago. Like most music students, you both used the extra humanities credits you had earned in high school to bail you out of the required foreign language credit until university. You were doing fairly well so far, but it was because you had a decent teacher. She wasn’t the best, but she was alright.

Lauren’s was just… something else.

On the first day of class, he told his students to call him “Pepe” because he didn’t do the “formal shit.” He also said that there would never be a class on Friday’s because he goes up to Cincinnati to gamble with his buddies. Why he didn’t just put down that his classes were only on Monday and Wednesday were beyond you.

“Yeah. Whatever, though right?” Lauren continued. “I’m not complaining about one less day of class.” You smirked mischievously.

“No, but your Spanish is…” Lauren scoffed, only causing you to laugh harder into your cup.

“Bitch, you shut the fuck up. You can’t speak the damn language either.” You shrugged.

“You’re not wrong, but at least I’m learning more than you are with Pepe.” Lauren groaned.

“Fuck you. Come on, let’s grab some grub.” You stood up and grabbed your backpack, throwing away your empty drink cup to grab something to eat. You settled on your usual favorite and sat back down with Lauren who had somehow already made it halfway through her plate.

“God, slow down.” You teased as you hung your backpack back on the chair.

“I didn’t eat breakfast this morning. Cut a bitch a break.” You shook your head, digging into your own plate, but at a much slower pace. You both sat in comfortable silence, enjoying your meals as the indecent chatter of the surrounding students and meme music playing from the jukebox continued on.

“So,” Lauren said, breaking the silence as she sat down her drink. “What are you doing this weekend?” You froze at her question but played it off the best you could. Any hint of hesitation would send her into a frenzy of questions that you weren’t prepared to answer.

“I’m going in to see Mom. Maybe stop by my Mamaw’s too.” Lauren’s shoulders slumped.

“Damn, that’s too bad. Devon invited us over to his Oscar watch party tomorrow night. Figured you might want to come along since you’re into that sort of thing.”

You swallowed hard at the mention of The Oscars. Just play it cool… don’t. fucking. panic.

“Normally I would, but it’s been a while since I’ve seen Mom. You know how she gets when I don’t come to visit for a while.” Lauren nodded her head in understanding, knowing full well of how your Mom was after living with you for two years.

Little did she know that you had just seen your mother last weekend.

“I understand, boo. I’ll let him know you can’t make it. When are you leaving?”

“As soon as I’m done here. I packed my stuff this morning so I could just go. Trying to beat the traffic as much as possible.” She nodded in understanding.

“Well, I hope you have a good time with your Mom. Say hi to her for me, will you?” You internally sighed a breath in relief. How your big mouth managed to keep him a secret all this time let alone this was beyond you, but you managed to pull it off somehow.

“Yeah, sure.”

After you finished eating, you hugged Lauren goodbye and went back to your dorm long enough to drop off the books you didn’t need and pick up your suitcase. You went through your mental checklist one last time and locked your door behind you as you left.

You unlocked your car and threw your stuff into the backseat, making your way towards the interstate as soon as you left the college.

Home was about a two or three-hour drive down south, but where you were really going was about a 40-minute drive north. You put on some music as you cruise down the interstate, your nervousness slowly increasing the closer you got to your destination.

Your hands shook on the steering wheel, you bounced your left knee furiously, and you were biting your lip… pretty hard. You thought about reaching into your purse for the “take as needed” anxiety medication your psychiatrist prescribed you but decided to hold off on it a little longer. Maybe it’d taper off when you got to the airport.

It didn’t.

You had flown before, but that had been years ago when your micro home town had some kind of festival thing and gave free airplane rides. This commercial airline stuff was something entirely new to you which was already nerve wreaking, but the unexpected bustle of such a smaller airport made it worse.

Weeks before when you first booked the flight to Los Angles, you did as much research as possible to make sure that you knew the “norms” and guidelines of all the airports you were going to since there were no direct flights available. You were as prepared as anyone could be, but you were still extremely nervous and all the foot traffic only made it worse.

You went through security without any qualms and took a seat to wait for your flight to begin boarding. You pulled out your phone and texted your Mom and Lauren before someone walked up to you in your peripheral.

“Excuse, miss?” You looked up from your phone to come face to face with an older gentleman. He looked to be in his early 50’s with salt and peppered hair and a kind smile. He asked you your name and you confirmed with a nod.

“Sorry to disturb you, but your private flight is prepared to depart whenever you’re ready, Miss.”

...Excuse you, what?

“P-Private flight? But I-... I paid for an American Airlines flight.” The man nodded.

“Yes, but Mr. Pascal has sent a private jet to retrieve you. He was fairly insistent to make sure that you boarded.” You sighed heavily. You told him that a two-stop economy flight that you paid for was more than fine, but the thought of you doing anything like a normal person seemed to bother him for some reason.

“Okay. I-I guess I’m ready to go then.” The man smiled.

“Of course, Miss. May I take your bags for you?” You hesitated.

You had never been waited on like this before and you weren’t quite sure how to feel or respond to it. You were perfectly capable of carrying your own stuff and this guy probably wasn’t getting paid enough to carry some lucky college student’s stuff, but was it rude to say no even if you did so in a polite manner? So, you just agreed and handed him over your suitcase and backpack.

You followed him outside and over to a small commercial jet, a woman who looked to be around her mid 30’s standing right by the entrance of the aircraft.

“Welcome aboard, Miss. I’m Kendall Bishop and I’m your captain for today. If you’ll go ahead and take a seat and buckle your seat belt, we’ll depart shortly. I do ask, however, that you remain seated and keep your seat belt fastened until Mr. Clements informs you that it is safe to move about the cabin. Do you have any questions for me before we begin our descent?”

You smiled politely at her and shook your head.

Upon entering the cabin, you were at a complete loss for words. It was easily the fanciest thing you’d ever seen. Leather seats, stocked alcohol shelves, an endless assortment of snacks, a TV, even a fucking bed of all things. The man, Mr. Clements you assumed, gestured towards the seat closest to you. You sat down and buckled your seat belt like you were told to do.

Mr. Clements then reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope, gesturing for you to take it.

“Mr. Pascal requested I hand this to you as soon as you board.” You took the envelope out of his hands, looking down at it with a curious gaze. On the back of it had your name scribbled onto it in familiar handwriting. You’d know it anywhere after reading so many letters from him.

“Please enjoy your flight and let us know if there’s anything we can do for you.” You thanked him with another nod, turning the envelope around and tearing it open. The plane prepared to take off as you read.

Mi Abeja,

I know you wanted and paid for a normal flight, but the academy offered to fly you to me privately last second. I was going to ask you if you were okay with it, but you were in class and your phone was off and I had to let them know something before my table read this morning. You work and study so hard and deserve to be pampered so I told them yes. They reimbursed what you paid for your ticket and I’ll give that to you once you get here.

I hope the unexpected change didn’t spike your anxiety too much. I know you’re nervous about this whole thing to begin with and I probably just made it worse. I’m sorry if I did.

I’ll be there to pick you up as soon as you land at LAX.

Love you,

Pedro. <3 <3

Your heart soared at his words, leaning back in your seat and looking out of the nearby window just in time to watch the plane lift up from the runway.

________________________

Four hours later, Mr. Clements informed you that you would be landing shortly. Your heart leaped up in your chest as you put your phone back into your backpack and fastened your seat belt.

It had been a few weeks since you’d last seen him and you were nearly vibrating with excitement by the time the wheels touched down on the runway. Mr. Clements offered to take your things again. You still weren’t sure if it was rude to turn him down or not and you didn’t want to ask and risk looking like a moron, so you agreed and handed over your backpack.

The captain opened up the door and exchanged pleasantries with you as you stepped off the plane, but you barely heard her over the pounding of your own heart. As soon as you looked up from the ramp, you saw him. He was there just like he promised he’d be, standing by his car and wearing his favorite pair of sunglasses all while smiling at you with that blinding smile.

Your sneakers barely touched the tarmac before you were sprinting for him. He held out his arms for you and made a small sound when you collided with him, wrapping your arms around his neck and laying your head on his chest. One of his hands caressed the back of your head, holding you to him tightly as the other one held on to your waist.

“I’ve missed you so much, Abeja.” He muttered against the crown of your head. You let go of him long enough to reach up and kiss him, tangling your hand into his dark curls. “Did you have a good flight?” He asked after you pulled away.

“I did. I was a little nervous at first, but I’m okay now.” Pedro gave you a saddened look.

“I’m sorry. I know it was unexpected and didn’t mean to hike you up, I just figured yo-” You put your hand over his mouth.

“It wasn’t your fault, Pedro. I’m just… not used to this… any of it.” He placed a gentle kiss to your fingers, taking your wrist into his hand and gently taking it off of his mouth.

“Please tell me you at least ate something.“ You nodded.

“I ate with Lauren before I left for the airport. She actually invited me to an Oscar watch party this guy named Devon is hosting. I played it cool just like we practiced, but it took everything in me not to freak out.” Pedro giggled, pressing a kiss to your nose.

“Isn’t she in for a surprise?” You barely smiled, nodding gently. You’ve been trying not to think about it, but the idea of you being on display to the entire world made your stomach churn and your knees weak. You were just a first-generation college student from the middle of nowhere, yet here you are in the arms of Pedro Pascal about to walk down the runway of the most prestigious award show in less than 24 hours.

“... Yeah.” You eventually answered. Pedro noticed the change in your demeanor and frowned, placing a kiss on the wrist he was still holding and caressing it gently with his thumb.

“We don’t have to go through with this if you don’t want to, you know? We can always go with plan B.” You shook your head vigorously.

“No, no, no! I-I want people to know… I just… all so new.” Pedro smiled at you sympathetically, brushing a stray piece of hair away from your face.

“Just promise you’ll let me know if it ever becomes too much for you. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.” You look up into his mocha gaze, the butterflies in your stomach making you forget about your self-doubt if only for a few seconds.

“I promise.”

________________________

That evening you were curled up with Pedro in the hotel bed, empty take-out containers discarded onto the nearby nightstand as you watched The Shining together. He was fully engrossed in the movie, his fingers idly playing with your hair. You had tried to focus on the movie. You really did, but you’ve seen the damn thing a million times. Laughing at memes on Reddit sounded more appealing so that’s what you were doing.

“You know, I really miss you when you’re not with me.” Pedro said after a while. You looked up from your phone and up at his face.

“I miss you too. Music school sucks and I can’t cuddle Lauren… well, I can but it would be awkward.” Pedro laughed, caressing your cheek with his knuckle.

“Tomorrow, our stylists will be here around noon. I know you’re going to be nervous all day and will probably avoid eating, so I’m going to make sure you get up with me and eat a proper breakfast.” You groaned quietly.

“You won’t let me sleep in? Even on a Saturday?” You fake-pouted. Pedro tapped your nose gently with his finger.

“Not when tomorrow is such an important day. I don’t want you nervous on an empty stomach.” You both went back to what you were doing for a minute.

“You did bring your medication, didn’t you?” You hesitated before nodding.

“Yes.”

“Good. You’ll have something in case it gets too intense. Getting you to take it will be another story, though.” You didn’t say anything, favoring instead to raise up from your reclined position to swing your leg over his waist to straddle him. His hands instantly went to your hips, gently caressing them with his large hands.

“You’re so beautiful, Abeja.” He said after a while of looking you over and running his hands over your body. You smiled at him and leaned down to give him a kiss. It was pretty standard as far as kisses go, but when you pulled away you were both looking at one another with a fiery intent and slowly went back in for another. This one searing and far more passionate.

Pedro groaned deep in his throat as your tongues collide, the kiss deepening far beyond your original intent.

You weren’t complaining.

________________________

Pedro’s alarm going off scared the living hell out of you. You had been awake since 4 am, trying your best to go back to sleep, but it just never happened. When you finally gave up around 6:30, you grabbed your backpack and sat at the desk the hotel provided and did your weekend homework. You hadn’t realized that you were that engrossed in it until his alarm buzzed you out of it.

He groaned quietly and reached over to silence it, rolling back over and reaching out to the other side of the bed looking for you. When he noticed that you were gone, he raised up from the sheets and looked around the room. His hair was an absolute nightmare, sticking up in various directions as he stretched out his back and yawned loudly.

“Thought you wanted to sleep in.” He teased after he found you at the desk.

“You said you were going to wake me up early. Figured I might get some work done.” Concern then donned on his brow.

“Honey, how long have you been up?”

“Not long,” you lie. “I wanted to get some work done so I just got up at my usual time.” Pedro got out of bed and padded over to you, rubbing your shoulders and placing a kiss atop your head.

“You work too hard. You should take a break while you can.” You lolled your head back, Pedro’s hands rubbing your shoulders feeling absolutely amazing.

“I’ll do whatever you say as long as you keep doing that.” He laughed, kissing your cheek and heading to the bathroom.

________________________

You didn’t want to question the professional, you really didn’t. But after the third layer of concealer, you just had to.

“That’s a lot of concealer.” The makeup artist laughed.

“I know, I’m sorry. Use some cream for those bags next time and I promise you won’t need as much.”

You didn’t speak after that, allowing the hair and makeup artist to finish you up while they gossiped back and forth with each other. They made other side comments like that to you here and there. They weren’t necessarily rude so you couldn’t really say anything, but they did little for your already rock-bottom self-esteem.

The artist put a dark shade of lipstick on your lips, making a triumphant noise when she finished.

“Didn’t have the best canvas, but you look fabulous sweetheart! Smile with your mouth closed and you’ll be a knockout!” The makeup artist and hairstylist gathered up their things, leaving you sitting there in your robe staring at the floor and hoping they leave fast.

When they finally left, you got up from the bed and walked over to the full-bodied mirror. You showed your teeth and started looking over them. You never thought they looked too bad. Sure, they were crooked and had some spacing, but they were okay. Braces were expensive and playing a brass instrument with braces is a death sentence for lips.

What if you were wrong about them looking okay all this time? Maybe you should have taken out that loan and a semester off to fix your teeth…

Your stylist came in shortly after. He was quieter than the others had been and much nicer which you were thankful for as you changed into the white dress they had picked for you. When you came out, the stylist smiled and hooped.

“You look gorgeous!” You finished off your look with matching jewelry and a clutch purse, sitting down on the bed to put on your heels.

“It took me forever to find a pair of acceptable wedges for you, sweetheart. I don’t know why you didn’t just tough it out for one night, but hey. I get it. Country girls don’t like heels and that’s okay! It worked out.”

Again, not necessarily rude… but damn.

________________________

You were waiting in the lobby for Pedro to come out, bouncing your leg nervously and trying to remember not to touch your eyes or bite your lip because of the makeup. When you saw him step off the elevator, your breath caught in your throat. His hair was slicked back and his facial hair neatly trimmed, the black velvet suit hugging his broad shoulders perfectly.

“Wow…” He muttered, looking you up and down. “You look absolutely stunning, Abeja.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” You replied, playing with his bow tie.

“Hey, hey, no. Don’t touch it. I don’t know how to tie it back if it comes loose.” You laughed and shook your head.

“Fine… I’ll unwrap my present later.” Pedro’s own breath caught as you winked up at him. He cleared his throat and composed himself, offering you his arm.

“Ready?” You swallowed and nodded, taking his arm for him to escort you.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

________________________

You were in line for the red carpet, the flashing cameras of the paparazzi already blinding and you were still pretty far back. Your stomach churned, a wave of nausea rising up but nothing happening. Pedro took your shaking hand into his and squeezed it gently.

“You okay?” He asked, noticing how tense you were and only grew worse the closer you got.

“... fine.”

“Plan B’s still an option if you need it, Abeja. You have your medicine you can take too.” You shook your head, looking back at him to flash him a smile.

“I’m good.” You could tell that he didn’t buy your bullshit. Not even for a moment. He didn’t say anything, though, opting only to lift your hand and press a kiss to the back of it.

“I’ll be right there beside you the entire time, honey. If at any point you feel uncomfortable or need to leave, you let me know.” You nodded at him, accepting a kiss from him before looking back out the window of the limo.

Your turn came up way sooner than you would have liked, the greeter opening up the limo door as soon as the car stopped and allowing Pedro to step out into the public eye. The photographers went nuts, the flashing lights and screams from fans intimidating you more than you thought they would.

What the fuck were you thinking? You’re just some tired ass music student. You don’t belong here with all these people.

You almost chickened out and stayed in the car but when Pedro turned towards you and offered his hand you took it anyway even though your mind was screaming for you not to. Just the gentle touch of his calloused hand on yours grounded you enough to carefully step out of the limo, making sure that nothing happens to your dress.

You could hear the sounds of the crowd die down for a moment as they all started muttering to themselves. Your hand was shaking in Pedro’s larger one, the photographers gasping as soon as they saw your face. They started taking pictures faster than they ever had. The bombardment of flashing lights blinded you for a moment, but you adjusted to them quickly.

Pedro let go of your hand and put it on your back, gently leading you where you’re supposed to go.

“Okay?” He asked as he wrapped his arm around you and brought you close. You nodded. You weren’t comfortable in the slightest, but it wasn’t the worst thing ever. While both of you posed for pictures, people from the group of photographers said a lot of things to both of you. Some were kind, others were funny and got a good laugh out of you. There were also a few who were very rude, but they had been pushed aside by the others.

Overall, it wasn’t nearly as bad as you were expecting… but you were glad it was over.

________________________

You were standing aside checking your phone while Pedro did an interview with some of the press. He had offered you to be with him, but the red carpet had been more than enough fame for you. Your phone was on “do not disturb” mode, but you could still see all the notifications coming in. Your Mom, Dad, Lauren, and other friends bombarding you with messages basically asking what the fuck. You didn’t have the time to reply, so you didn’t open any of them.

Once Pedro was done with his interviews, he escorted you into the main hall where he introduced you to some of his friends and colleagues along the way. You considered it an honor to meet the people most only ever dreamed of, but you knew you didn’t deserve it. Someone else should be here, not you.

When you found your seats, Pedro offered you his hand. You took it and allowed him to seat you before he took his next to you and wrapped his arm around the back of the seat. The show started shortly after.

________________________

“And the Oscar goes to…” You held onto Pedro’s hand tightly as they opened up the envelope, your shaking hands encased in his. He had told you when he had been nominated that he didn’t expect to win it, but you could tell he had some hope as he tensely watched them read the card.

“Pedro Pascal.” You jumped up with Pedro, hugging him tightly as the audience broke out in cheers.

“You deserve it!” You told him, breaking away to give him a quick kiss. You watched him run up stage and accept the golden statue, walking up to the microphone with a few chuckles as he looked over the award.

“Wow, this is uhhh… this is incredible. Truly amazing.” He started. “I’d like to thank the Academy for this honor, my Mom and Dad who worked hard to raise me right and who supported me. My brother and two sisters for being there for me, mi Abeja for loving me unconditionally, and just… so many others. There are so many people in my life who have helped me get to this milestone and if I were to thank all of you, we’d be here all night. I love you all so very much and this truly… a dream come true. Thank you.

The crowd stands up and cheers loudly. You wanted to, but you were too busy trying to make sure your makeup doesn’t run down your face with a tissue from your clutch. Eventually, you give up trying and decide to go to the bathroom just to make sure everything still looks fine.

Your makeup looked just as flawless as it had before. You wish you would have known that the artist had used waterproof makeup so you could’ve properly celebrated Pedro’s achievement, but oh well. While you were there, you decided to use the bathroom. You didn’t have to go that bad, but might as well take care of it while you’re here.

While you were relieving yourself, you heard two other women come in.

“-ld for her. He needs to settle down with someone like us and around his age. Not some college student.” You froze solid when they realized that they were talking about you.

“I know. She isn’t even that pretty. Did you see her teeth? Do they not have braces where she comes from?”

“For real. Her body’s not that great either. Looks like she comes straight from the shack or something.”

“Wonder if that’s where he found her?” They both giggle.

“Either way, she doesn’t belong here.” You knew they were right, but you just couldn’t bare to listen anymore, pulling your underwear back up and fixing your dress after you flush the toilet.

You then run out of the bathroom, not even looking to see who the women were. It didn’t matter, though. They were right. You should have never came here and you couldn’t stay any longer.

You walked back to your seat and gently tugged on Pedro’s sleeve.

“C-Can we go… Please?” You ask, your voice shaking just as much as your hands. Pedro got up instantly when he saw the look on your face, grabbing his trophy, coat and your clutch. He didn’t ask questions as he placed his hand to the small of your back and began to escort you out of the theater.

By the time you got back into the limo you felt like you couldn’t breathe. The voices around you sounding like water as your vision became black around the edges. Oh God, is this what feels lie to die? You couldn’t die. Not now! You had so much to do, so much t-

Something extremely cold suddenly touched your face, the blackness around your vision fading slightly as you looked up to whoever had put something so damn cold on you.

You were instantly met with the warm eyes of your boyfriend, concern laced on his brow as he gently dabbed a cold washcloth over your face. You could see his mouth moving, but you couldn’t make out what he was saying over the pounding of your heart, but it eventually calmed down enough to where you could begin to hear him.

“There we go, bee… that’s it sweetheart. Nice and easy.” Your breathing slowly calmed down, Pedro cradling you in his arms as your panic attack faded.

“I should have never come here…” You muttered. “I don’t belong here. All these fancy dresses, the flashing cameras, nice cars… I don’t deserve any of this.” Pedro placed a kiss to your forehead.

“Don’t say things like that, Abeja. You deserve this just as much as anyone. And as far as not belonging, trust me when I say I don’t either. And, frankly, I’m fine with that. All of these designer clothes, the mindless gossip, the broken homes, being surrounded by so many but still alone? That’s not really a life worth living. The world of Beautiful People is a lonely life, one that I would rather not live.”

You wasn’t sure what to say, so you just didn’t say anything, curling up as close as you could to him.

He made you take a dose of your anxiety medication when you got back to the hotel, taking it with a swig of water before laying down and curling up close to him. You laid your head on his shoulder, the sounds of his breathing and the gentle feeling of his hand caressing your own shoulder lulling you.

Right before you doze off, you heard him say:

“No matter what any of them has said, you’re perfect the way you are and deserve everything.”

________________________

You wake up the next morning still wrapped up in his arms. You lay there for a while just talking and enjoying one another’s company before he finally got up to use the bathroom.

You reach for your phone on the nightstand, turning off “do not disturb” mode for the first time since yesterday afternoon.

Your phone was overloaded. Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat, everywhere was flooded. You didn’t even know where to begin.

Eventually, you just give up trying to put a dent into anything and returned Lauren’s list of missed calls. She answered on the second ring.

“You tell me every little detail, you sneaky bitch. And I mean everything!”

#kayla's ramblings #pedro pascal #reader insert #my fanfiction #beautiful people

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doc-pickles · 4 years

Text

it’s nothing funny just to talk (p. 1)

What happens when you text that random number graffitied on a bathroom stall in your favorite bar? Jo Wilson is about to find out. - In which Bar Princess and Doctor Evil Spawn meet via text.

More Jolex on your timeline because y’all seemed to love what I posted before! Also I’ve posted this whole piece on AO3 as well so it might look familiar.

this idea came to me in a fever dream and i am not sorry that y'all have to deal with it. 99% of this fic will be in "texting" format, so be prepared for that.

Jo is regular Alex is italics

Saturday 11:04 PM

heeeeey is thiss doctor evil?

I gotta say ur phone sex namee needs sum weerk

u soud like a comic book village

fuck

village

VILLAIN

Who the hell is this? And how did you get my number?

i’m just a girl at thee bar!!!!

Joe’s Bar?

noooooo

i’m at enerlad city bar

You didn’t answer my question.

u asked a quesitoon?

whata was it?

i’m goos at takifjg tests

How’d you get my number?

it qas in the bathrooom!!!

it said “for a good tiem txt dr evil spawne”

so I did

I am ready to havee fun

You’re drunk, obviously, and I’m going to have to kill Cristina for putting my number up.

ooooooh is thatt ur girleifnd?

hirlefiend

girlfriend**

Wow you’re really gone. And hell no, she’s my roommate. One of them.

ooooh how many do u hav

roomees not girlfriends

Three. Two girls and a dude.

intereeesting...

well it’s tome for fireball shoots

steph is yeeling at me 4 txting too much

goodbey doctor eviel apawn!!

Oh lord. Tell Steph you need water. Or an IV.

I’ve got her. she’s throwing up on her shoes. thanks doctor. - steph

Sunday 10:11 AM

You know you’re pretty funny, Bar Girl.

jesus christ what fucking time is it?!

10 AM

I’m assuming you have a massive hangover.

hold on I can’t hear you over the sound of me vomiting

TMI as the kids say these days.

what’re you a grandpa or something??

No I just don’t know how to use text lingo. Except WTF. I know that one very well.

quick question

who the fuck are you?

Dr. Evil Spawn. You found my name graffitied in the bathroom of Emerald City Bar.

holy shit

I thought I dreamed that... WHAT THE FUCK

Nope. I’m real.

holy shit i’m so sorry

my texts were so annoying

Who hurt you? I mean you were shitfaced, I’m assuming someone broke your heart into tiny pieces.

the opposite actually, I was at a bachelorette party

not mine, i’m so single it hurts

Ahhh that makes sense. So you got shitfaced in solidarity?

exactly you get it

you seem like you’d be the DD at a bachelorette party

Well seeing as I’m a dude I don’t do Bachelorette parties.

Well I did go to one, but that’s a different story.

hmmm you seem like a very interesting man doctor evil spawn

going to bachelorette parties, living with women who aren’t your girlfriend

OMG ARE YOU DATING THE GUY YOU LIVE WITH?!

George? No absolutely not. And before you ask, my other girl roommate is gay.

so you’re single?

i’m only asking so when you murder me the police have as much information as possible

Haha very funny. I would be a terrible murderer.

you didn’t answer my question

Fine. Yes I’m single.

i’ll note that in the “serial killer file” i’m building

gotta go, I have to do work :/

Have fun, don’t die.

Sunday 8:38 PM

Arizona is trying to set me up on a blind date.

who’s arizona?

My gay roommate. She wants me to meet this “bubbly blonde” she knows from her pilates class.

ahhhh. why don’t you go?

Bubbly blonde is not my type. Sounds like she’ll spend the whole date talking about how much she loves dogs or her knitting hobby.

Plus she does pilates, that tells me more than enough.

you’re making some good points. I don’t pity you.

You better not. How was work?

the longest day of my life

it was just paperwork, I don’t actually work on the weekends

What do you do?

hmmmm that’s exactly what a serial killer would say

i’m an elementary school teacher

Oh so you sing and dance and paint pictures all day?

what school did you go to?

were working on multiplication tables and basic photosynthesis tomorrow

Wow that sounds like a lot.

it’s may, ive got three weeks of school left so I have to cram all the crap we didn’t cover into these last few weeks

Ahhh that sounds more accurate.

and what do you do?

besides text strangers that you don’t know

I’m a pediatrician.

oh so you make kids cry and wipe snotty noses all day? two can play at that game

Well we both have to deal with snotty noses sooo...

I GET IT!! Doctor Evil Spawn!!

why evil spawn though?

I wasn’t this nice when I started med school. My personality is an acquired taste.

ha! that’s a funny joke.

so if you’re a fancy schmancy doctor why do you live with three other people?

I’m only a resident, not making the big bucks yet. Everyone else is a doctor too.

are they all pediatricians?

No. Arizona is too but Cristina is a cardiologist and George is a trauma specialist.

interesting!! I too live with my coworkers. it’s not fun.

the table is always covered in craft supplies.

Well I can never read the grocery list on the fridge. Stupid doctors script...

oh that’s a classic. you’re pretty funny Dr. Evil Spawn

Thanks Bar Girl.

I gotta go. monday tomorrow and you know how fourth graders can be. night!!

Night .

Monday 9:47 AM

there’s not enough coffee in the world for monday mornings.

Monday 10:52 AM

Sorry I was yelling at the interns. We have a decent coffee cart here. Keeps me alive. Are you texting in class?

no it was recess

now they’re at spanish class

i’m not totally irresponsible

Oh good to know the future of America is in good hands. Teacher Princess is “not totally irresponsible”

teacher princess?

Well, Cinderella lost her shoe, you puked on yours. Same thing.

wooooooooow

that was so uncalled for...

I thought it was funny. Gotta go set a broken arm.

broken arm vs. adverbs... can we switch? have fun lol

Monday 3:26 PM

I don’t even think I know what an adverb is.

how did you become a doctor??

Don’t need to know adverbs to fix a couple broken bones and snuffy noses.

oh darn I should’ve gone to school for seven more years then

Haha. How were the adverbs?

better than expected, grading papers while I wait for my roomies to be done

we carpool, saving the environment and shit

Okay Eco Warrior.

you text like a 60 year old man

you’re not a 60 year old man are you?

No I’m a 28 year old man though

28 a doctor and you’re single? your personality must be worse than you described

I’m a busy man, I don’t have time to settle down. And I have no desire to.

yet you have time to text a complete stranger?

hmmmm interesting...

Ouch, that one hurt Princess.

steph is making me socialize with the other teachers

if I don’t respond, they killed me or dragged me to an essential oil party

Hahahaha

Monday 5:18 PM

Did you get roped into a pyramid scheme?

nooo but therew as wine

I should sotp drunk texting you so often

It makes your presence that much more entertaining. And bearable.

woah woah dude

i’m a gem

I can tell. Elementary school teacher with a heart of gold.

awwww your too sweet tome

It’s a Monday. Who the hell gets drunk on a Monday?

teachers

we deserve it

You’re a teacher and you’re single and still going to Bachelorette parties. You’re what, 23?

i’m 25 and i’m doing greta thanks you very nuch

cnat believe that i’m supplying my perosnal info to a serial killer

What makes you so sure that I’m a mass murderer?

ur weird nickname and ur intimate knowledge of the himan body

Mmm yes well a good amount of women do find themselves screaming around me often. Or under me. On top of me...

omg are you sending me dirty jokes

you’re crazy

What can I say.

Gotta go, I’m on call tonight. Get to bed safe, Bar Princess.

mmmkay thanks Doc

Wednesday 11:29 AM

What do you think is worse: School lunch or hospital food?

hospital food, no doubt

thursday is mac and cheese day here... I could bathe in that stuff

We have Spaghetti Wednesday but that’s the only good thing here.

mmm how depressing

the teachers do a pot luck once a month and that’s always good

the art teacher next door to me makes the BEST blueberry muffins.

Lucky. All I get here is vending machine cookies. Anything interesting happening in the elementary world?

a first grader got lice last week so naturally we all have it now

I had to chop off six inches of my hair

Holy crap. Lice can be vicious, be thankful you didn’t have to shave your head.

it feels like I did, my hair hasn’t been above my shoulders since the backstreet boys were still touring

Wow. I’m glad to know you’re well cultured.

of course I am

gotta go, kids are back from music class

Don’t be too hard on them, they deserve a break every once in awhile.

Thursday 3:06 PM

Incoming Voice Call

“Jenna you forgot your lunch pail. Have a good day!”

“Hello?”

“Hi Mrs. Peters. I didn’t grade Henry’s test yet, I’ll have it tomorrow. Thanks bye!”

“Helloooo?”

“Steph I gotta grab my things, I’ll be there in a seco- oh shit. Hello?”

“Bar Princess?”

“Doctor Evil Spawn? I must’ve butt dialed you, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay I... I don’t mind the interruption. Are you leaving work?”

“Just about, we’re wrapping up the solar system and I have to bring home the diorama.”

“I was never good at the models, I prefer working with the real thing.”

“Oh ho, a man that works with his hands. I can appreciate that.”

“You know now we’re officially talking and we still don’t know each other’s names.”

“Well around here I’m Miss Wilson, but you can call me Jo.”

“Jo. Hmm I like chicks with dudes names. I’m Dr. Karev but you can call me Alex.”

“Well nice to kinda meet you Alex. I’ll talk to you soon, I gotta get out of here.”

“Talk to you later.”

Thursday 4:34 PM

I wouldn’t mind if you were my teacher.

how did I know you’d send me something along those lines

I’m predictable. I’m still calling you Bar Princess.

as you wish doctor evil spawn

I get to assist on a surgery today. Tonsillectomy.

like removing tonsils? that’s awesome

for you, not for the kid

Oh she’ll be fine, she gets ice cream and jello for a week.

okay yeah I might be jealous of her now

id love to be off work for a week and have you waiting on me hand and foot

the ice cream is a nice bonus

You think that’s my job?

well you said you aren’t making the big bucks yet so.... yeah

Keep dreaming. I’ll talk to you later, gotta scrub in.

have fun!!!!

#jolex #jolex fanfic #jolex fanfiction #jo karev #jo wilson #jo wilson karev #alex karev #alternate universe #jolex fic #jo x alex #greys anatomy #greys fanfic #INFJTT #nina writes

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hey-hamlet · 5 years

Text

BNHA AU Ideas: Power Transfer

Also on AO3!

TL;DR:

One for all is a power that has been passed down for generations. Turns out the most recent generation can afford to be a whole lot more liberal with his sharing. Also turns out sharing quirks runs in the family.

An AU where Izuku can share OFA full cowling with multiple people at once.

shared power ofa,

izuku giving aizawa 5% of one for all durring the usj or izuku giving toshinori 99% of OFA durring the last fight

cause consider the world never finding out about small might, all might retires but izuku knows

the rescue team all having the max amount of ofa they can use, which is around 2% each, cause a lil sparking team of heroes

izuku using kirishima to give bakugo some too n them using it to get away

izuku having two quirks is my favourite goddamn thing bc him being able to share his quirk but not having anything to share is great

he gives bits to allmight, like a constant 1% so he can teach classes and do press stuff

some rando wants to do an "all might" where is he now segment and it spans a good few months so izuku is continuously in the background just

conspiracy theory starts that izuku is a villain or allmights son

a villain and all might's son

izuku has no double toe joint but the doc cant find any evidence of a quirk? so he tells them izuku is either quirkless or has an invisible quirk. something subtle, or specific enough to have not activated by now

bakugo kinda,, is chill with izuku. he was waiting for izuku to develop a quirk till he judged him, but he never did so he kinda withheld judgement long enough for them to become decent friends

anyway, izuku likes to ramble about different things his quirk could technically be, bakugo likes to join in. they can go at this for h o u r s cackling about stupid hypotheticals

they workout together, they both do boxing and try out random moves they see on the internet on each other. they have a pile of gym mats in the woods like the weirdos they are

bakugo is like,, convinced izuku's quirk is actually an intellect up but he just shrugs

izuku has to grab something before he heads home so he takes the underpass and we get basically episode 1 from there. all might says no, the villain gets away, attacks Bakugo. izuku runs in, throws dust in the villain's eyes and pulls at bakugo's hands. all might jumps in, saves the day yada yada

some background for u about all might bc his past is a touch different here. during the battle with afo, afo was distracted. all might sustained the same injures but won more easily.

night eye never looks into his future because "my purpose is done, nighteye. let's live like everyone else, no fate of the world on our shoulders" he never looks into all mights future again at his request

they stay together

so instead of the big argument they go get ramen and get drunk because they don't have to be superhuman anymore, they can relax now

back to the main timeline-

so izuku is already fit, cleans the beach in 8 months, nighteye supervises

all might gives izuku the quirk 2 months before the entrance exam, nighteye is there to "oversee" (he wants to see izuku choke on a hair and laugh at this kid hes become pretty fond of)

also mirio! is izuku's bro because i love he

izuku eats the hair and gets the quirk like, instantly which?? is confusing nighteye and all might. nighteye has like,,, hidden behind a car because hes the only person with self-preservation

allmight touches izuku and the lightning climbs up his arm and he just pOofs out into swolmight. hes ShooK, so is izuku

anyway, he manages to turn it off and izuku is just standing there like "oh my god what the fuck"

"izuku,, what,, happened there"

",,,, one for all??? leaked out??? into allmight????"

...

"nighteye come over here."

"izukU nO"

"STAND STILL NIGHTEYE I JUST NEED TO TRY SOMETHING"

nighteye is forcibly given a little of ofa and regrets a lot of stuff

anyway, izuku breaks an arm trying to use ofa and hes muttering trying to work out how to use it, nighteye basically says "well, think back to how ofa came about" and izuku is like ",,, what"

and nighteye screams because TOSHI YOU DIDNT TELL HIM?????? and allmight ",,, o o p s"

so izuku gets to hear the story of all for one while hes being driven to UA for recovery girl hes,,, really quiet for a second

"when did you fight him?"

"six years ago, april?"

",,, this has to be a coincidence"

hisashi went out on a "business trip" 6 years ago and they haven't seen him since. he calls, but hes never visited and izuku has this terrible feeling

because izuku cant calm down and because nighteye thinks this kid might be on to something they call tsukauchi and he agrees to meet them at UA

izuku gets treated, naomasa is in v quickly afterwards before he calls his dad he turns to nighteye, allmight and Naomasa

"i've never been able to lie to my dad. i thought he was just really good at reading me but,,"

"if hes afo he might have a quirk"

"yeah. so i'll just twist the truth. im good at that, but thats all i'll be able to do"

anyway, he calls up his dad and slaps this big grin on his face. the phone is on speaker

"hey dad!!!!" "izuku! is something wrong?"

"oi, cant i call my dad for no reason?"

"you, willingly calling someone? dont make me laugh"

izuku giggles despite himself

"anyway, you'll never guess!!"

"did youuuu,,,, hmmmm, meet all might?"

they freeze but izuku just laughs

"yeah,, but thats not the most exciting thing!!! my quirk came in finally"

"oh?"

"yeah! imagine the worlds most basic power enhancer, but i can share the energy! you have any idea where that could have come from?"

"no! i can't think of anyone in our family with a quirk like that! sounds crazy!"

naomasa looks grin, and mouths "liar"

izuku pales but keeps his smile

"do you think you could visit, id love to show you!! oh, maybe we could test it together! you always had the best ideas for my quirk notes"

"id love to izuku, but im stuck in america for the near future, you know it is. i'll see what i can do tho, ok champ?"

naomasa shakes his head again "lying" izuku looks like hes going to be sick. nighteye is pale, all might looks stunned. izuku grits his teeth but his voice is still light and happy

"i'm gonna make it into UA so you can watch me kick butt from america! you better cheer me on!"

"im looking forward to it. say hi to your mother from me."

naomasa nods. hes telling the truth. that makes nighteye feel the sickest

"love you izuku"

",,, love you too dad"

izuku hangs up the phone and retches into the bin. nighteye is shaking. all might storms out. naomasa punches the wall

izuku looks up with tears in his eyes

",,, does my mum know?"

nighteye wants to cry

"i dont know kid"

izuku tells katuski that his quirk finally came in! but,,, in the worlds biggest mess of a way

basically hes lying in bed, trying to work out why he can't use it without breaking bones but the people he shares it with can, he bolts upright

"POWER MODULATION OH MY GOD"

he runs out his door all the way to bakugos house and climbs in through his window, grabbing a sleeping bakugo by the shoulders

"KACCHAN ITS POWER MODULATION"

"IZuKU whAt tHE fuCK"

"my quirk!!! i was breaking bones because i wasnt modulating it!!!"

",,,,q QUiRK/???/?"

",,,, oh yeah oops"

mitsuki runs in with a frying pan ready to murder a villain but its just izuku

"carry on"

izuku doesnt tell him its ofa but he explains his quirk has finally showed up, bakugo asks him if hes registered it yet

",,,noooooo"

"wait what? you, breaking the law? mister "i cant kill an ant because all might himself will call me a villain""

izuku, w the most shit-eating grin, explains that you only legaly have to register your quirk when it shows up, or after you are tested when you are five, whichever happens first so, legally, he doesnt need to register because it would be seen as voluntary updating

cut to the enterance exam

aizawa is holding the papers for the kids hes observing right then

"quirkless? that kid doesn't look quirkless"

and yagi sighs

"of course he didnt,,,"

"all might? do you know him?"

"NO NO IDEA WHO MID- THAT YOUNG CHILD IS"

",,,, r i g h t"

“aizawa listen i have never seen young midoriya in my life ever”

basically, izuku is hiding the "transfer" part of his power from most people bc hes stubborn and thinks it could be useful

also,,, in this au shinso makes it in on hero points thanks

bakugo is about to rush the 0 pointer but shinso can see its going to fall on him shinsou yells

"HEY FUCK FACE"

"HA-"

"MOVE MOVE MOVE GET OVER HERE BEFORE YOU FUCKING DIE OH MY GOD MOVE I DONT WANT TO SEE SOMEONE DIE TODAY"

shinsou and bakugou are the type of friends that flat out have no love for each other but would punch anyone who says anything bad abt the other. like shinsou walks into school and bakugou s just

“dammit i thought u fucking died smh”

“i wish i did then i wouldn’t have to look at ur ugly ass”

in this au shinso and izuku bond when they are standing outside they door bc izuku looks like hes gonna fucking cry hes so scared and shinsou is like "wow big mood"

shinso is not shinson in this au! bc izuku is gonna do a soft

basically, quirk test? shinsou is s w e a t i n g bakugo looks a little worried for his new friend but no one would notice if they weren’t izuku

shinsou turns to him like "my quirk is mental im going to fa I L"

izuku grabs his hand and he feels this rush of energy, you can almost see it dancing along his skin. izuku grins

"i think you'll find you do just fine"

(izuku gave him like,, less than a full 1% but hes like doubled in strength and speed and hes??? shook?? bc whats happening)

aizawa is lost bc shinso has a mental quirk he shouldnt be doing this well, so he tries to cancel it

nothing happens and aizawa is so lost??? bc shinsou is kinda reedy and not super fit but hes placing solidly in the middle

and he noticing that shinso’s eyes seem to be glowing and so are they eyes of the kid coming in second and gives a big "hm,mmmm"

anyway, ball pitch, he cancels izukus quirk and turns to look at shinso, his eyes are dim. izuku looks sheepish but also like hes ready to throw down and its an interesting look

aizawa just sighs "you know what? just throw the ball."

izuku g r i n s and yeets it into next year using more of his quirk than he like,, really should have? to prove a point (his finger is bruised, not broken. he used 25%)

anyway aizawa shows the results, shinso is in the middle, izuku second, hagakure is last and sadly shes not getting expelled bc plot reasons – im sorry I have a thing against her shes perfectly valid probably im just still convinced shes the traitor even tho its totally a teacher

he calls izuku out on it but does admit he didnt say you couldnt help eachother, so its kind on him. shinso looks like hes going to pass out with relief

Hagekure is the traitor in this au though, 100%

during the camp she is at the pick up zone, hiding. izuku pulls bakugo out of the way, they all seem safe

but

she pushes izuku in through the portal as it closes

fyi afo takes her quirk and leaves her braindead in the nomu factory bc shes not useful anymore. also because now he needs to have a really awkward conversation with his son he was hoping to avoid

also usj? is really melodramatic

he gives aizawa 4% which is the max nighteye could hold without it hurting

aizawa takes a hit from the nomu and he reaches out his hand

izuku cries as he gives him an extra 4% and aizawa gets free but he can see bruises forming with every step his teacher takes

#bnha au #bnha #aizawa shouta #aizawa #eraserhead #midoriya izuku #Izuku #Midoriya #shinsou hitoshi #All Might #yagi toshinori #Nighteye #bakugou katsuki #Class 1A #power transfer au

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blanket-fish · 4 years

Text

Hold onto this Place, Chapter One

AO3

Summary: James Kirk, an agent of F.S.F, has just come back from injury leave. The confrontation with his brother left deeper scars than just a bullet wound, but there's no time to focus on that, not with an impending attack from the Logic Extremists. Before he knows it, Jim is in deep with a dangerous organisation, and trying to keep up his cover is only the tip of the iceberg on his pile of problems, which happens to start and end with a man called Spock.

-----

There was an annoying clicking that just wouldn't stop. Jim had already turned off the water cooler, the radio and the heater but none of them seemed to be the cause. Pike would wonder why everything was off when he finally got here, but Jim had stopped caring about his boss's opinion after five minutes of this torment. Pike was now an hour late for this meeting, and he was the one that called it! One of these days Jim would get him to admit he planned his actions with the sole goal of irritating him.

Just as Jim was about to disassemble the plant pot, the door opened, and in walked Christopher freaking Pike, having taken the scenic route.

"And you talk to me about the importance of punctuality," Jim quipped, but refrained from going any further at the look on the other man's face. He watched as he dropped a file on his desk and went to pull out his chair.

"Take a look at that," Pike said "And tell me what seems off to you."

Jim raised an eyebrow, but walked over to pick it up. As he flipped open the cover, he could see Pike looking around the office. "If you're wondering what the noise is, I've spent the last hour trying to figure it out."

"Aren't you a trained operative? Stumped by... I'm guessing plumbing?" Most people though Pike was professional through and through. Those people had never worked with him.

Jim stuck his tongue out at Pike's shit-eating expression, and returned his attention to the file. S'chn T'gai Spock. As file's went, his was short. A scanned copy of his birth certificate, a few police reports about him dropping off the face of the earth at seven years old, and a passing mention of someone believed to be him being involved in a gang dispute a few months ago. Even the photo used was hand-drawn.

"I mean, he's a ghost and there's no confirmed sighting since he was a kid, but that's kinda run of the mill. I'm not sure what's making you be all serious," He placed the file back on the desk, cocking his head slightly ina questioning manner. Pike sobered up quickly.

"The issue isn't what's in the file, per se. It's more of a combination of things. Hold on a second," He turned to rifle through a filing cabinet, leaving Jim a little perplexed. "Spock is the son of a man called Sarek, or, as you might know him, The Ambassador."

It wasn't that Jim didn't recognise the name, it was just that the way Pike had said it implied that he should know... more than just that.

He realised Pike was looking at him, maybe expecting some kind of response. He shuffled awkwardly. "Ah, right, yes. The... Ambassador. I do definitely know who that is."

"Kirk, I know you were just on injury leave-"

"I still think you were overreacting."

"You... You got shot! I wouldn't say I - Doesn't matter, the point is, you didn't hit your head did you? The Ambassador? Leader of the Logic Extremists? Who hacked the TV networks last year?" Pike's face was incredulous, and he looked like he was torn between throwing something at Jim or just giving up.

"Oh! Right, them. That, that's my bad, that's on me." Now Pike had said it, a dozen more things they'd done sprung into Jim's mind. It was the clicking, it was a distracting. A pretty good excuse, if he did say so himself.

Pike shook his head. "At any rate, we've recently linked Sarek to a dispute previously believed to be between the... Collective, or maybe the Borg, doesn't matter, we linked Sarek to it, and the new theory is that it was an attempt on his life by a rogue part of his organisation. Our sister agency in Andoria took a suspect called V'Latak into custody yesterday. All they managed to get out of him before he offed himself was that Sarek was planning some kind of retaliation. Given that the attack he's retaliating to nearly took many more civilian casualties than it did, the concern now is that he might make a point publically about not crossing him."

Jim took a moment to process all the information that had just been hurled at him. "This attack, is it the same as the one in the file?"

"Yup. Some of the witnesses remembered his name being used to address someone, and our experts confirmed the description they gave could fit a grown-up Spock. It's tentative I know, but, and I am finally gonna get to the point of this meeting-"

"Meeting is generous. There's two of us."

"Okay, look, what else would you call it?" When Jim was silent, he continued. "That's what I thought. As I was-"

"Could call it a briefing."

"Right, information now, quips never. Pay attention. Anyway, the reason I called you here, is that we found an opportunity to get an agent on the inside. Our source says that they're recruiting people for a low scale heist, rally, thing, I'm not really sure. Thing is, they're usually pretty picky about who gets involved, but in this case they're apparently struggling to find getaway drivers with any kind of skill. Thus, you."

"Me indeed. When do I start?" Inwardly, Jim was glad to have an excuse to drive like a maniac again. Bones tended to frown on that at any other time.

"We've already made contact under a cover ID and have been told to meet Spock, which is why I had his file, I know you were gonna ask, at Victoria Docks tomorrow at 1900."

"Okay, cool, just to clarify, that whole 'Tell me what seems off to you thing' was completely irrelevant?"

"It set the tone. Not gonna apologize for that."

"Mm-hm, and I still don't know why you were all serious. This is all pretty par for the course."

Pike shifted awkwardly. "Alright, fine. Maybe I am a little worried about throwing you undercover when you just came back from leave. Especially with a group like this."

"Chris, I've been in worse-"

"I know, Jim. You just had me worried with the whole gunshot thing, it was pretty touch and go. So sue me if I'm a little concerned." Pike was pointedly not looking at Jim's face.

Pike was sweet, sometimes. Sometimes. But Jim was not ready to be affectionate with anyone so soon after what happened with Sam. So he just smirked.

"Aww, Chris, that's cute,"

"Okay, enough, go, do something else, learn your cover, I'll send it to you-"

"I'll keep you updated on the bus, yeah?"

"You are insufferable." Jim just grinned and left the room.

<><>

The rain pattering down on the car windscreen was oddly calming. Jim was waiting a few streets away from the docks, waiting until it was time for the meet-up and mentally going over his cover for a final time. After seven years working at F.S.F, he had covers down to a fine art, but it never hurt to check over things.

Jimmy Jackson, 26, well-known street racer in Delta county. He won his first race at 19, ran his first gig as a getaway driver when he was 20, doing a heist at the Oval Gallery. The best covers were the simple ones. No normal person would know the exact dates of every job they'd ever done, and that was the principle he was relying on. There was only so much he could memorise in a day.

Jim checked his watch. Ten minutes until the meeting time. It would be reasonable enough to head to the docks. He turned the key in the ignition, engine turning and being much louder than he was used to. There'd been a breakthrough in silent engines in 2068, about a decade ago, and the car he had was built a little before that. Still, it ran fine, had a decent speed, and crucially, didn't have the trackable gear regulator that newer models did. Something like that would've gotten him fired before he was even hired with these guys. Scotty had been able to rub it in Pike's face that keeping old cars around wasn't useless, and his look of glee had been priceless.

Jim slowed the vehicle to a stop as he entered the docks. He squinted into the darkness, just barely managing to make out a small group of people, hanging out on the hoods of some cars. Spock hadn't come alone, and Jim would've been surprised if he did.

He exited the car a small distance from them, turning his face away from the wind. They couldn't have picked a nicer night to meet. He walked over, running his eyes over the group. It was difficult to see most of their faces, but one near the front definitely looked like he could be Spock. Jimmy wouldn't know that though, so he stood in a non-committal spot in front of them.

"He-ey, heard y'all needed my help." He flashed an obnoxious grin. The man who he could safely assume probably was Spock stepped forward.

"We don't need anything from you, Mr Jackson." Jim could practically hear the eye-roll in his voice. "However, we may have an opportunity for someone with your... apparent talents." Jim knew they'd probably taken at least a cursory look at him over the web. Sulu and Chekov had been working hard on bookending his backstory as a racer, and given their track record, he probably didn't have to worry about anything suspect being found.

"Well, that's why we're here ain't it," One of the people behind Spock scoffed. "Don't suppose I get to know what said opportunity might involve?"

"Well, I suppose it would be pertinent," Spock looked him straight in the eye. "If all goes well, you will be driving."

His backstory might not be an issue, but this man's attitude might. Granted, the persona he was playing isn't someone he'd be best friends with himself, but Spock was going to drive him nuts.

Jim was ready to fire back, quickly formulating a Jimmy appropriate response, but then he could hear sirens approaching. Spock gestured to his people, and they moved to get into their cars. "We don't hire people on good faith, Mr Jackson," Spock said, moving to get into a vehicle. "You can consider this your trial."

The first of the cars started their engines. Spock met his eyes as he spoke. "Do try and keep up."

#star trek #star trek tos #star trek aos #tos #fic #my fic #jim kirk #Christopher pike #spock #alternate universe spies #brief mention of suicide #like a sentence #my fics

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sprnklersplashes · 5 years

Text

Truth Of His Dreams (6/?)

AO3

As it turns out, making their own way across a continent is significantly easier said than done. They agree to save what money they have from the diamond for food and accommodation in London, which means they live and eat simply, to put it mildly, across Europe, sleeping under bridges and in hostels, sharing plates of cheap takeaway under orange street lamps. Charlie never thought he’d miss the orphanage, but at least there he had a roof over his head and a bed-however hard and uncomfortable it was and however thin the sheets were. The others seem more used to their situation, but that doesn’t mean they like it. He knows they all spent varying amounts of weeks on the streets before finding each other.

Still, they adjust.

They take buses across borders, which thankfully don’t check their papers. Despite how tired he is, how much he craves a decent meal, Charlie has to admit, he is in love with Europe. They can walk through towns and cities without looking over their shoulders, they can say whatever they want and not worry about being arrested. They joke about how the Rhodian government would have a fit at the amount of high street shops, towering shining buildings with clothes made by people whose names they can barely pronounce, and decadent restaurants and cafes lining the streets.

Still, it’s not perfect. People sleep rough, like them, asking for change they can’t give, starving while other people don’t finish their meals in restaurants and Charlie can’t help but wonder… was Rhodia like this once? Restaurants and shops asking huge prices while others can’t afford a roof over their heads? Had his family been responsible for it?

It takes them weeks, but they reach Calais. Charlie honestly feels like crying when he sees the sign welcoming them.

They purchase tickets for a ferry to England that day, and decide to celebrate their last night in France with a bottle of whisky, bought by Matteusz, the least likely of all of them to be asked for ID. They end up sitting in an inn next to the harbour, passing the bottle around, Dash sitting quietly in Tanya’s lap.

“To Charlie,” April toasts. “The reason we’re all here.”

“I suppose the next time you drink something it’ll be out of a crystalline champagne glass,” Ram adds, passing him the bottle.

“Don’t celebrate yet,” he reminds them, trying not to gag on the whisky. “We’ve still got to convince the Queen Mother.”

“Speaking of which…” Matteusz says, looking over at Tanya with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, yes, okay,” she says, passing up on the drink. “I think I’ve sorted it. Clara Oswald attends this club, all ex-Rhodian nobles go to it, called Club Gallifrey, every night of the week. All we have to do is meet her out there and….”

“Beg, plead and whine until she gives us an audience?” April suggests. Tanya clicks her fingers in response.

“And if that doesn’t get her…” she turns to Charlie. “You’re our secret weapon. Just go up and give her that big wide-eyed sad orphan face we all love.”

Charlie laughs. Sad, wide-eyed orphan. That sounds like him. It’s who he’s always been, and now he’s days away from potentially finding a family.

He must have shown it on his face, because Matteusz’s hand covers his and Tanya brushes her knuckles against his leg.

“Anyways,” Ram says. “You think that’ll get us in?”

“Hopefully,” she says. Charlie pulls his jacket around himself. Weeks ago he had nothing but a hazy dream, now he’s climbed the ladder all the way to hopefully. It’s a long way to come, with has an equally long way to fall.

He can’t think what he’ll do if he finds himself back where he started.

Since it’s their last night in continental Europe, they decide to go all out and treat themselves to real beds in the inn next to the harbour. Ram points out that they’re nothing compared to what Charlie will be sleeping on once he’s back with his royal grandmother, but he’s just glad to have somewhere to put his head. They get two rooms; girls in one and boys in the other, although Tanya, Matteusz and Charlie are sure that April and Ram will make secret visits to each other’s rooms throughout the night.

He wonders what that’s like as he watches them in the corner, hands entwined and her lags swung over his, laughing softly at something he said. To have a space in someone’s heart. Having someone to laugh at nothing with and break down with the next minute. Someone who says “I’m here” with a mere touch of their hand.

He finds himself looking over at Matteusz, but when he looks back at him he drops his gaze, his cheeks turning pink.

*****

Charlie sits on a wall overlooking the city. It’s quiet, but far form peaceful. Something brews beneath the surface. He feels like the city is a chord wound so tightly it’s about to snap and worst of all he has no idea why. He hears people whisper in the streets but can’t make out what they’re saying. The tension in the air makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

The streets are deserted, lights in houses slowly fading to off. Above his head, even the stars seem to dim. He notices that there’s no moon. If it wasn’t for the street lamps, he’d be in near-total darkness. The though makes a pit form in his stomach.

He feels a sharp tug on his leg and looks down to see a little boy, dark blond hair and big blue eyes, clinging to his leg, looking lost and afraid and oddly familiar. Charlie jumps down from the wall and squats next to him. Up close, he can see how perfect this child is, not a hair out of place, not a blemish on his body.

“Are you okay?” he asks. The boy cocks his head to the side.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he replies instead of giving him an answer.

“Okay.” He looks over his shoulder to make sure no one can listen in and pulls Charlie close to him. He doesn’t know why he checked for passers-by. No one in their right mind would be out at this hour.

“I’m going to die soon,” he whispers. He should look scared, but instead he says it matter-of-factly, even smiling slightly. “Unless somebody saves me.”

What can he say to that?

“Do you have a secret?” the boy asks.

“I don’t know who I am,” Charlie mumbles. The boy shakes his head and giggles. It echoes through the night, the sound rolling along the ground and through the air.

“That’s silly. Everyone knows who they are,” he insists.

Charlie doesn’t remember walking anywhere, but he finds himself crouching in the trees next to the boy. Before them is a huge white building, he can’t even imagine how wide, with sprawling lawns and golden frames in the windows and double oak doors framed with white columns and decorated with golden handles. It looks like something out of a fairy tale, something that doesn’t belong here. It would be beautiful-if it weren’t burning. Black smoke billows out from the windows, staining windowsills and walls grey. A balcony on the third floor is destroyed; half of it lying on the ground.

Even from where they sit, he can hear the sound of people screaming and bullets being fired. So many bullets, overlapping each other, not stopping even once.

The boy doesn’t seem to hear any of it. He sits next to Charlie and watches as the front doors creak open, revealing more smoke and orange flames roaring inside it.

He gets up and runs towards it.

“No!” Charlie gasps, grabbing his arm and pulling him away. “No, you mustn’t, they’ll kill you!” The boy looks at him, frowning in confusion, and looks back at the palace. “They’ll kill you if you go in there!”

“No they won’t,” he assures him with a knowing smile. “Someone’s going to save me.” He wrenches his arm free of Charlie and runs towards the building. Charlie can’t move as he watches the boy running through the doors, disappearing into the black smoke.

Then a gunshot rings out.

“No!” he screams. He throws himself forward and runs to follow him, his heart pounding against his ribcage. He stumbles over the threshold and for a moment, there’s nothing. Just blackness as smoke fills his lungs and he feels certain he’s about to die.

Amazingly, the smoke clears just enough for him to see what’s in front of him; a man all in black, his clothes stained with something he doesn’t want to know, holding a small silver gun in his hands, also stained with red.

A gun pointed directly at him.

He should run. Or beg for his life. Or fight back. But instead all he does is stand there as he steps closer to him.

“For the revolution,” the man whispers.

Charlie doesn’t have time to ask what he means before he pulls the trigger, and a bullet is fired from the gun, and rips through his chest-

******

The scream catches in Charlie’s throat as he sits up. He presses his shaking hand against his chest; no bullet wound, heart still beating, lungs still breathing.

He looks around the unfamiliar room for a moment, taking in the brown walls in the low light, the small table, the mirror, the ceiling that seems far too close to his head…

No, not a ceiling. Another bed. The top bunk.

Everything comes back to him; escaping Rhodia, travelling to France, checking into the inn. Matteusz claiming the bunk above his.

That’s real. This is real.

“Mate,” Ram whispers next to him. He sees Ram sitting on the floor, next to his bed, one trouser leg rolled up to reveal his right leg ending at the knee. His fake leg lies at the end of his bed. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he lies. He moves to sit on the ground and lean his back against his bed, pulling his knees to his chest. “Did I wake you up?”

“No,” Ram answers, shaking his head. “I woke up before you.” He doesn’t need to tell him what woke him. He’s experienced more than a few nights of Ram waking up screaming, reliving the awful events of eight years ago, and some days after that.

Ram’s hand rubs the stump of his leg. Charlie has wondered of course, and had his suspicions, but never outright asked.

“The revolution,” he explains, seeing Charlie’s expression. “I was… I went outside. My dad told me to stay inside but he hadn’t come back. He was out there trying to defend the palace. He was really loyal to the royal family. And he told me he’d be back soon.” In the dim light, Charlie can see Ram’s eyes fill with tears.

“It’s okay,” he tells him, but he’s pretty sure Ram doesn’t hear.

“I went outside to look for him,” he continues. “It was a bloodbath. People were carrying knives and lit torches and firing guns.” He winces and reaches out to the lower leg he no longer has. “I felt something hit me in the leg. I woke up in the hospital later and they told me….” He doesn’t finish and claps his hand over his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” Charlie says. “That… that’s awful.”

“That damn revolution did us so much more harm than good,” he says bitterly. “Don’t get me wrong the royals were….” He trails off and looks up at Charlie and smiles shakily. “Sorry mate. Your family after all.”

“Apparently,” he says. They fall silent and Charlie presses his hand at his chest again, making sure it’s still whole. He can still feel the bullet entering his chest. He feels his heart beat against his palm, feels his chest rise and fall and listens to Matteusz’s soft snoring. He smiles, despite everything. He could sleep through anything.

“Hey,” Ram says. “Can I ask you something?” Charlie nods slowly. “Something really messed up must have happened to you to lose your memory like that.” He chuckles. Trust Ram to be so tactful. “Why… Why would you want to remember that?”

Charlie pushes his hair back, pulling it tightly. It seems time to unload everything he’s held in his heart for the past eight years. Hopefully he’ll feel lighter after this.

“Because…” He swallows thickly. “Because all I’ve known is that I was left at the hospital. I don’t know why or who left me there. I don’t know if someone out there loves me and left me there to keep me safe, or if I was left there because they just didn’t care about me anymore.’’ He pulls his knees in tighter, wrapping his arms around himself. Ram winces in sympathy.

‘‘Oh… mate I…’’ He sighs. “I’m sorry. I get it.” They smile at each other and Charlie loosens the grip he has on his legs.

He supposes that if he doesn’t find what he’s looking for in London, he can at least fall back with them. He hopes.

*****

Matteusz finds there’s something calming in watching the ocean. It goes on forever and mostly beats a gentle rhythm. It looks so pure and beautiful, the whole expanse of water around them the one shade of dark blue, except for the part where the run reflects on the water.

Here on the boat, he feels freedom sink in for the first time. Not total freedom; he still needs money for that. Which he’ll get through lying to an old woman and making her think she’s reunited with what’s left of her family. But now, he feels the freedom of endless places to go and saying whatever he likes and not living with his family’s ghosts hanging over him. Reading real books and magazines and even thinking about having access to the internet.

When they stopped in a small town in Germany, he and Charlie slipped into a library and poured over all the books that wouldn’t have been seen on a shelf in Rhodia, ranging from ancient philosophers to graphic novels. And some things a little more… mature.

He still blushes thinking about it.

Behind him, he hears the rest of his friends giggling and talking quietly, providing a background noise to the sound of the waves beneath him and the peaceful skyline before him. When he turns to look at them, he sees Charlie and April in what he assumes is meant to be a waltz position, but they’re so awkward it’s honestly hard to tell if they’re dancing or if Ram has glued their hands together out of boredom.

Charlie glances at Matteusz sheepishly and huffs an awkward laughs. His cheeks are already turning pink. He and April step stiffly around the floor, April looking at Ram and Charlie looking at… Him.

They’re awful. No one is leading, no offense to April but she has two left feet and whatever beat Tanya is humming they aren’t following.

He has to stop this.

“Here,” he says, motioning for them to fall apart. “Whose idea was this?”

“Mine,” Tanya admits. “If he’s going to dance at a ball, he’s going to need to learn to dance at one.” Matteusz nods. It makes sense, of course. “And I’m too small and Ram doesn’t dance.” Matteusz raises an eyebrow. “Okay, April used to dance when she was little.”

“Okay,” he chuckles. “Why don’t you let me show you?” This time it’s their turn to raise eyebrows.

“You dance?” Ram asks.

“You don’t know what I do,” he replies. And no, he doesn’t dance, but he’s read books. Jakub used to have a book on every type of dance which he’d read under the covers by torchlight. They nod and April falls back, allowing Matteusz to take her place.

When he steps up to Charlie, Matteusz wonders if the pink on his cheeks has actually spread or if it’s his imagination or a trick of the light.

“So it’s like this,” he explains. “I’ll be the girl-”

That sets the entire group giggling. Among his own laughter and recognition that yes, that probably was not the best way to phrase it, he notices how nice Charlie’s laugh is, it’s soft and bright and his nose crinkles ever so slightly.

“Why is dancing so heterosexual?” Tanya asks, still laughing slightly.

“It’s a mystery,” Matteusz replies.

“Especially since gay people dance better,” Charlie adds. “It’s a fact.”

A weight lifts from Matteusz’s chest, one he didn’t know was there in the first place. The old regime in Rhodia made no secret what they thought of anyone who wasn’t straight. He couldn’t even joke about liking boys (although he couldn’t do that before the revolution with his deeply religious parents) and now he can openly joke about how disgustingly straight ballroom dancing is.

“Anyway,” he continues. “I’ll be the… submissive-no that’s worse.”

“Kinky!” Ram remarks, being rewarded with a punch from April.

“Anyway!” he sighs. “You know what I mean. Now Charlie you put your hand here…” He places Charlie’s hands on his waist. “And I put my hand here…” His hands go on his shoulder and he can’t help smiling. “Hand then we join our hands like this.” When their hands join, Matteusz begins finding it hard to breathe. “Now we dance.” Charlie nods. Matteusz hesitates before starting, counting the beats softly under his breath. Charlie simply follows along with whatever he does and it feels like Matteusz is pulling him along, which is the opposite of what the prince should be like. “Charlie you lead.”

“I don’t know how to,” Charlie protests.

“Yes you do,” Matteusz insists, moving closer to him and lowering his voice so that only Charlie can hear. “You can do this.”

“Really?” Charlie asks. Matteusz nods. Whether he is Charles or not, Matteusz knows he can do this. He’s watched him go from street urchin to faux aristocrat. Charlie nods and takes a deep breath. “I lead.”

They stop mid-step and Charlie starts it again, guiding Matteusz around the deck that serves as their dancefloor. He’s far from an expert, but it’s there; if he didn’t know better he’d think it was ingrained in him from birth. He could fool the Queen Mother. He could fool the whole court. He could almost fool Matteusz himself.

“There you go, you’re doing it,” he tells him. Charlie huffs a laugh.

“I told you gays dance better than straights,” he replies. Matteusz chuckles and while he isn’t totally sure why, pulls Charlie closer.

Dance partners should be close to each other, right?

"I'm getting a bit dizzy," Charlie confesses before stopping and dropping his hands. "Probably all the dancing."

"Yes," Matteusz agrees. Funnily enough, when Charlie lets go of him, he doesn't find it any easier to breathe. Despite how dizzy he feels, he just wants to keep holding him and dancing with him until they get to England.

*****

They dock in Dover just as evening comes in and the horizon turns yellow. Charlie grips his bag tightly to keep his hands from shaking and when his feet hit the ground he thinks how he’s might finally be in the same place as his family. That just a few miles from here might be someone who loves him and wants him.

It’s overwhelming, dizzying. And frankly, a little sickening.

“This is it,” April sighs. They should move along, but they stand on the dock quietly. It’s not ‘it’ yet. ‘It’ is London. But in Dover they’re met with a striking white cliff overlooking the dock and a crisp breeze and green fields in the distance. They’re shooed off the dock but keep making time to take it all in

Train prices turn out to be way above their current budget, and they have to settle for a coach. An overcrowded, small coach with one toilet and hard seats and little to no legroom, which is less of a problem, more of one for them and even more of one for Matteusz, who can’t even tuck his legs on the seat.

He settles for taking over Charlie’s legroom and their legs tangle together and if he should mind, he doesn’t. Possibly because he’s too busy staring out the window with every possible outcome of their adventure racing through his mind while his heart beats frantically and his whole body feels cold and clammy. He could be welcomed with open arms and kissed and given everything he’s ever wanted, showered with jewels and money. Or she could take one look at him and bolt the door in his face.

Or he could be executed. Can she still execute people? Is claiming to be her grandson a crime?

Matteusz shifts in his sleep next to him, rubbing his cheek on his shoulder. Charlie places his hand on his knee and strokes it with his thumb rhythmically. Sitting there with Matteusz next to him and the sinking sun on his face, he feels the adrenaline catch up to him and leave him struggling to keep his own eyes open.

He wakes up to a too-bright light in his face and lifts his hand to block it. He wriggles his heavy limbs and blinks in the artificial light before Matteusz’s arm hits him in the face.

“Sorry,” he says, half giggling.

“That’s okay,” Charlie laughs. He shakes his hands to get some feeling back into them and looks out the window, spatters of light rain on the window and tall black iron street lamps glowing a dull orange and light brown stone buildings which looked 200 years old but housed small shops with bright signs and steel blue light inside. They were so different from the shops back home, The streets are fairly packed; people in suits and families with young kids and teenagers jog up and down the street, in a hurry to get to work or go home. “Where are we?” He’s sure he already knows.

“London,” Matteusz whispers.

Charlie rests his hand against the window. London. Eight years of dreaming and hoping and wondering and thinking he’d never set foot here and now…

“It’s not what I imagined,” he remarks. “Where’s the big clock, where’s the river?”

“They’re somewhere,” Matteusz assures him. “This is just some bus stop, I guess.” Charlie hums in understanding, continuing to look out the window. “Anyway I think this is a pretty poor part. Your grandmother will be up in the rich part.”

He nods and tries not to think too much about the words “your grandmother”.

#marlie ff #matteusz andrzejewski #charlie smith #class bbc #charlie x matteusz #fic: truth of his dreams

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jugandbettsdetectiveagency · 7 years

Text

Tacos and Tequila - Ch.2

Thank you all so much for the wonderful response to chapter 1, I’m still shook. Hope you enjoy!

Ch.1 / Ch.3 / Read on AO3

Hour 1

Betty glances around her new surroundings as Jughead shuts the door behind her. Along with his scholarship, Archie has been offered lodging in some of the slightly more upscale apartments Boston had to offer its students, as part of the terms of his enrolment. She’s currently standing in a small lounge/kitchenette area, decked out with only the essentials: there’s a cream coloured carpet (that looks like it’s seen better days) that gives way into white tiles on the floor; a green sofa and armchair are pushed in the corner, surrounding a varnished coffee table and TV stand, two lamps adorning either end of the room. The kitchen has very little in the way of appliances, all white cupboards and grey counter tops, and there are dirty dishes piled up that are beginning to edge closer to the wrong side of disgusting. She wrinkles her nose discreetly, not sure why she’d expected anything less from two college boys. There are two doors on the wall opposite her, which she’s assuming lead to Archie and Jughead’s rooms, and one on the wall to her left which she can see, from how it’s been left ajar, is the bathroom.

Jughead stands a few feet away, observing her as she observes the room.

“What did you get your scholarship for?” Betty blurts out. She instantly berates herself for saying the first thing that had popped into her head. He didn’t have to be on a scholarship, she thinks, averting her eyes and willing herself not to smack her palm to her forehead, he could just be loaded. To her relief, Jughead replies quickly.

“Writing. I’m studying Journalism with a minor in Creative Writing,” he tells her with a depreciating smile she can tell he must always wear when talking about himself and his accomplishments.

“Me too!” she exclaims, eyes brightening a shade before she coughs delicately, reigning in her excitement. “I mean, without the minor. I want to be a journalist one day though – I was editor of The Blue and Gold in high school. That was our paper,” she adds, realising he wouldn’t know what she was babbling about. Jughead smiles, dimples appearing adorably on his cheeks and Betty can’t help but return it.

A khaki jacket catches her eye, strewn over the arm of the sofa.

“How do you like living with Archie?” she asks, her mind drifting back to the noticeable absence of their shared acquaintance. Jughead lifts a hand to rub at the back of his neck and Betty watched the way it makes his bicep curl.

“Yeah, he’s a good guy,” Jughead replies vaguely, and the betraying smile spreads across Betty’s lips before she can stop it. “I think if we’d met as kids we could have been close friends, but we’ve kind of gone too far in different directions to ever be ‘brothers’,” Jughead concludes, throwing quotes around the word with his fingers. Betty nods. She can understand the sentiment.

Betty’s eyes follow a stray drip of water that slides between Jughead’s pecs and he marks the appraisal, looking down at himself as if he’s only just remembering he is less than decently clothed, for the first time since they met.

“I’m just gonna…” he trails off, pointing with a thumb to the right hand door on the wall behind him. “Make yourself comfortable,” he throws over his shoulder as he slips into his room.

Betty sinks into the worn couch cushions with a huff, picking absentmindedly at a loose thread she finds there. How typical, she thinks to herself. There’s a buzzing in her back pocket that causes her hunched shoulders to straighten, the ID on her screen reading Archie alongside a picture of his bright, beaming face.

“Arch?”

“Hey, Betty! What’s up?” The cheery note in his voice throws her off instantly. There was no flood of apologies, no hurried explanations as he tells her he’s just caught up but he’s on his way, he’ll be with her for their weekend together in no time.

“What’s up?” Betty means the repetition of his question to sound acidic but it comes out a degree weaker than she’d intended. “Archie, I’ve just driven almost four hours in a snow storm to come and see you, only for Jughead to tell me you aren’t here.” Her heavy breathing fills the dead air across the line.

“Shit, that was this weekend?” Betty bites her lower lip as it begins to quiver. “I am so sorry, Betty. I completely spaced – and Veronica invited me to Hawaii super last minute because she’s crazy rich and her dad’s got this jet…” Archie’s voice suddenly sounds like it’s coming through glass. She’d been passed over for a better offer. Again.

“…and now the weather reports are saying that it’s gonna get really bad and no flights are landing.” His voice begins to drift back in, his explanations coming in fast. “We aren’t going to be able to get back until it starts to clear. Betty… I’m so–” Betty shoots up from the couch.

“Don’t say you’re sorry. Please, spare me your pity, Archie.” Her voice is quiet, but Archie has never heard her use this tone with him before. Not when she threatened to stop being his friend after he’d gone behind her back to tell her mom about her date with Trevor, not when he promised to take her to prom only to find out Val wanted to go with him instead, and not even when he’d kissed her unexpectedly before uttering the words ‘was that okay? I want to know if I’m a good kisser before my date with Cheryl this weekend’. Back then she’d been her usual peaches and cream self. Now? She sounds resigned.

“Look, don’t be upset. We can reschedule! And you can stay at mine for as long as you need – I’m sure Jug won’t mind,” he hurries to placate. He’d been with Betty when she had reached the peak of stress before, Alice’s home environment not exactly being voted most nurturing. He knew how anxious she could get. “Betty?”

A bubble of laughter had burst through her pursed lips before she could stop it, and now that it was out the dam had burst. She throws her head back, peals of laughter ringing out through the otherwise silent apartment. She is aware of how crazy she must sound right now, but she just can’t stop it, her sides beginning to ache.

“Err, Betty?” Archie asks again awkwardly. The jubilant blonde pulls in a breath, spontaneous chuckles still escaping every so often as she wipes her fingers beneath her eyes.

“I’ll be sure to make myself at home,” she replies, pulling the phone from her ear and ending the call before he has time to muster a response. She throws the device on the coffee table. The longer she stares at it, darkness signalling no attempt at a redial, the worse she feels. An uncomfortable knot is twisting in her stomach, the tears of laugher turning bitter as everything sinks in, stinging her skin.

God, she’s tired. Her sadness morphs into anger as a highlights reel plays behind her eyes of all the times she’s shed tears over Archie Andrews. She wasn’t just tired, she was tired and pathetic.

“Betty?” The uncertain voice causes her to whip round, coming face to face with a newly clothed Jughead. He has on a pair of red flannel pajama pants, a dark grey cotton shirt, and a uniquely shaped beanie has been shoved over his drying hair which vaguely resembles a crown. He looks cosy. He sees the slight smudge of mascara beneath her eyes.

“Is that Archie’s?” Betty asks suddenly, pointing to the bottle of tequila amongst plates and bowls on the counter. She’s heading towards it before he can answer.

“Yeah, it is but Betty I don’t think you should…” Jughead winces as she unscrews the cap, swigging a gulp. She coughs and splutters as she takes the bottle from her lips, eyes watering for an entirely different reason now.

“Oh, my god. That’s so gross!” she rasps, Jughead regarding her with the same restrained amusement he’s had flittering around his features since she first arrived.

“Tried to warn you,” he quips and she throws him a dry look that doesn’t quite pack the punch she was hoping for. Betty thumps her chest lightly to try and ease the burn. “You don’t really seem the type to knock back the hard liquor,” Jughead notes a little more quietly, raising his eyebrows as he averts his eyes from her face. Betty’s own are alight with flames.

“And what type do I seem like, exactly?” she demands, folding her arms across her chest. Jughead trails his gaze over the girl in front of him, taking in her perfectly pressed jeans, cotton candy sweater and honey gold hair that’s up in a tight ponytail. He falls back into his snarky demeanour before he answers, and Betty practically witnesses the construction of a wall around his person.

“Very perfect girl-next-door.” Jughead mirrors her posture, folding his arms loosely, shoulder leaning against the refrigerator door. Heat rises in Betty’s cheeks, muscle twitching in her jaw as she clenches her teeth. Jughead braces for her onslaught, wanting her to get mad, until suddenly all the tension vanishes from her body, lower lip trembling once again as she turns her eyes to the ground.

“Who’s Veronica?” she asks, voice small. There’s a beat before Jughead answers, still catching up with her sudden mood swing, before he’s fishing his phone out of the deep pocket in his pants.

“Here,” he says, handing her the device after pulling up a picture.

Betty stares down at the girl on the screen, Veronica’s head tilted in laughter as she clings to another girl in the photo. The vague lights of a club are visible in the background. Her olive skin is flawlessly glowing, complimented by the perfect beaming smile across her parted lips. Her midnight hair is sleek in a way Betty thought was only possible in magazines, and her dark eyes hold a glint within them that just reeks of enticing mystery. She looks wild, and beautiful, and fun.

“Are she and Archie…?” she begins, knowing that Jughead will pick up her line of questioning. The boy shrugs as he takes back the phone.

“I’ve seen her around here more than once,” he offers. Betty nods, not sure if she wants to run from the apartment and never look back, or collapse into Jughead’s arms and sob. Betty catches the muted view of snow falling rapidly beneath street lamps through Jughead’s open door, pinning her inside, and he looks like he’d abhor the latter option so she just stands, counting her breaths until someone decides to talk.

Jughead moves silently, picking up two shot glasses from the clean side of the sink and pouring the abandoned liquor into them, just short of the top. It wasn’t a habit he frequently indulged in, but right now the tension pressing down on his chest and the utterly defeated look on Betty’s face makes him think the situation demands a little indulgence. He hands it to her, watching the slight tremor in her fingers as she accepts his offer.

“Cheers.” He clinks his glass to hers before they throw the clear liquid back in unison, eyes scrunching against the burn. It’s not as bad as the first time, Betty thinks, as a pleasant warmth fills her stomach and the feeling of being on edge begins to fade slowly. “Wanna watch a movie or something?” Jughead suggests, tipping his head towards the couch. She nods her consent, taking the remote from his outstretched hand as he tells her she can pick. “But, if you pick badly I’ll probably never learn to trust you,” he jokes. It earns him a wry smile.

She scrolls for a while, allowing herself a bitter chuckle as she finally makes her decision.

Jughead’s eyes widen minutely as Betty presses play, shaking his head in amusement as the movie begins with its opening credits. Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.

If only, Betty thinks. If only.

#bughead #bughead fanfiction #bughead au #betty cooper #jughead jones #betty x jughead #riverdale #riverdale fanfiction #bughead fan fiction #jetty #writing

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galahard · 7 years

Text

Those Left Behind

Author’s Note: So I started this earlier this week, then got hit by the flood that is SDCC. I’ve been struggling with writer’s block for months, and started trying to think of a new take on my favorite AU/trope, soulmates, when this hit me, and I decided to force my muse to work. I apologize that it’s not anywhere near my best work, but mostly I’m glad that I was able to write something again~

Warning so you no one can complain: Harry/OFC (past/no PDA), slight Eggsy/OFC

Read on AO3 here

He felt foolish as nerves flooded through him, even as the girl working the desk glanced up from her screen and flashed him an understanding smile. “Sometimes this part takes a moment, there are a lot of images for the system to scan through. You can have a seat if you’d like.”

“No thanks,” Eggsy muttered, shoving his hands into his jacket pocket to stop himself from thrumming his fingers across the counter top. He’d waited long enough by this point, unable to make it to the agency until a full week after his 18th birthday. There was always the possibility that his soulmate’s records wouldn’t even be available yet if they were younger than him, but something in him whispered that his soulmate would be older. So for now he clung to the hope that he wouldn’t leave empty-handed, but with a name.

An expression he couldn’t quite identify flashed across the girl’s face in front of him, and he’d learned enough sleight of hand from pickpocketing to catch her pressing a small button off to the side as she took a moment before speaking to him.

“Well, we do have information for you, but I’m afraid I cannot pass it on to you directly. If you can wait just one more moment Dr. Sanderson will be able to assist you.”

-------

He’d been saving up for months, which was easier said than done with the piece of shit his mum called her boyfriend living with them. Any money Dean saw him with was liable to be confiscated for “rent.”

The fee to pull your soulmate’s records was nominal, in place to help fund the department but designed so that it wouldn’t be a burden and therefore accessible to everyone, but he’d wanted more than that. He’d wanted enough money so that when he left the agency he’d be able to take his soulmate out on a proper date. Even with his birthday money he knew he wouldn’t be able to afford anywhere posh, but if his soulmate would accept him, hopefully they’d also accept a restaurant that was merely decent; a step up from takeaway or a couple pints.

He hadn’t expected to be spending that carefully hoarded money on a train ticket out to the countryside. He’d stopped at the first liquor store he came across and bought the cheapest fifth of whisky he could find, cracking it open and taking a swig as he pushed open the door and kept walking.

The return ticket was resting safely in his pocket, so the last of his money was spent at the florist, who was kind enough to give him a larger bouquet than he could afford after he requested directions to the cemetery.

Outside the traffic was beginning to pick up as people got off work and moved on with their lives, blissfully unaware of the turmoil rolling through him as he followed the scribbled down directions.

It was summer, so the sun was still shining as he found the cemetery and began to wander, eyes skimming names quickly. It still took the better part of an hour before he stumbled to a halt, staring at the elegant stone in front of him.

Elizabeth Jocelyn Harrison

January 17th 1967 - November 1st 1994

He set the bottle down on the ground and pulled a crumpled paper out of his pocket, the only one Dr. Sanderson had handed him that he’d kept, all of the pamphlets somewhere in a bin back in London. The name and dates matched perfectly, as he already knew they would, but finally he let his eyes drift over to the picture smiling back at him from the wrinkled piece of paper.

“This isn’t how I thought our first meeting would go,” he mumbled at the auburn haired woman grinning back at him, the smile seemingly genuine despite it being a simple snapshot for a photo ID. “I figured the worst fucking thing would be if you just slammed the door in my face as soon as you took a look at me, I didn’t even consider a situation this shitty.”

For a minute he just stood there, unable or unwilling to move, before he stepped forward, crouching and placing the flowers awkwardly in front of the headstone. He wasn’t quite sure how things should be arranged, not used to laying flowers as his dad had been cremated

“Maybe,” his voice cracked and he cringed, even though there was no one about to see him as he stood at an almost 17 year old grave, “it’s better this way. I wasn’t expecting no cougar, and you seem real classy. You probably wouldn’t have known what to do with me, yeah?”

Now that his other hand was free there was nothing stopping from stuffing the paper back into his pocket, unable as he was to throw it away, and he stooped down to grab the still mostly full fifth of whisky from where he set it, tilting it back to take a long pull.

“Fuck.”

--------

“Fuck.”

Eggsy tilted his head back, eyes closed, until his head bumped against the wall. His mum had been beside herself when he’d rang to let her know he probably wasn’t going to make it home. Dean was probably celebrating by now, he’d been saying for several years that Eggsy’d find himself in prison sooner rather than later, and while technically he was only in a holding cell it still pained him to prove his step-father right.

Stupid fucking fox.

“Unwin.” The name was practically barked, but he took his time and stretched before rolling up and onto his feet, cracking his neck for good measure. God, it was probably going to be so fucking boring in jail.

“You’re out of here.” The policeman was scowling and casting suspicious glances until he all but shoved Eggsy out the doors after he’d collected his personal belongings.

He couldn’t resist glancing behind him in case the cop changed his mind, and then he moved forward quickly, halfway down the stairs before a voice stopped him.

“Mr. Unwin. Would you like a lift home?”

“Who’re you?”

“The man who got you released.”

“Not hearing an answer.”

“A little gratitude would be nice. My name is Harry Hart.”

“So what?” He was looking at the man carefully now, not entirely sure why he was there and certainly not why he’d bother getting him released. He didn’t even know how this “Harry Hart” fellow knew he was locked up. But other than discerning that the man knew how to wear a suit (and well) and that he had a posh sort of voice, he couldn’t figure much out. “I ain’t no charity case.”

“Excellent, because that is not why I am here.”

Harry Hart took a step away from the wall and started down the stairs, not bothering to see if Eggsy was following him but probably knowing that he’d caught his attention.

“As things stand, my employer is rather intrigued by you Mr. Unwin.”

“Eggsy.”

“Alright, Eggsy then. We have had you in our system for a few years, keeping an eye out for suitable candidates for a particular job, and despite your rather peculiar record we think you may be up to the challenge.”

“Look, I ain’t sure what the fuck it is you think you know about me, but I ain’t some common criminal, yeah? Just because you lot got me out of a bit of a bind don’t mean I owe you nothing, and if that’s what this is you can just march me straight back to the damn coppers.”

Now the posh bugger bothered to turn to glance back at him, a smile curling at the edges of his lips. “Don’t worry, we have no use for a thief that gets himself caught as quickly as you managed to. However, the job is a rather delicate one, and I’d prefer not to talk about it on the street. Now then, if I recall correctly there is a pub around here? Perhaps we could speak there.”

There was absolutely no reason to go along with this nonsense, but there was little enough going on in his life to turn down a possible free pint. “Why the fuck not,” Eggsy muttered before bursting into a jog, no longer willing to chase after the back of the man in front of him. “Black Prince ain’t too far,” he found himself offering as he caught up to him and slowed back down to match his pace.

Why the fuck not.

--------

The plane was on autopilot, returning them from Valentine’s base to the chaos of HQ, and Merlin was already turning them into ghosts.

It had all been explained before they’d become candidates. Kingsman kept tabs on those who lost their soulmates prematurely in some form or fashion. Merlin had a program that plucked names from the soulmate registries, and then his algorithms that then collected data on those individuals. They already knew that these people were the ones that no longer had anything left to lose, but they were looking for potential, those that still threw themselves into the challenge of life, and thrived despite adversity. Apparently dropping out of the Marines hadn’t disqualified him, and when it was time to propose a new Lancelot, and he’d been in a convenient holding cell, Harry had selected his file and gone to collect him.

Sure, Roxy had the title, but with the loss of Arthur, Galahad, and apparently Bors and Kay, Merlin was already taking steps to make him a full agent.

The tech guru explained a bit of the process as the two newest Kingsman watched their past selves vanish. Gone were the records of them in the soulmate registry, completely wiped. Their driver’s license information was rerouted, so that anyone attempting to run their registration would be redirected to Merlin, who could overwrite anything in a moment’s notice. A local newspaper article about his early gymnastics success vanished before his eyes, as did one of Roxy winning an equestrian award when she was 14 and smiling awkwardly around braces.

For Eggsy it was surreal. He’d known since he was 18 that he’d never be a complete person, but now his identity was being stripped away with the click of a button. It was peculiar to know that now the only people that knew his mark was his own mother and his doctor, otherwise he might as well have been one of the unfortunates, those born without a mark entirely.

For a split second his mind flashed to Elizabeth, the image of her quick smile and auburn hair imprinted in his mind. She would have known exactly what that small mark on the inside of her thigh, just above her knee, looked like. The slight curves and pointed edge, the tiny half circle right in the middle. She’d probably traced it herself, countless times, wondering why no one had shown up in the registry for her. All he knew was she’d died in a car accident, something involving a deer and driving too fast, but would she have been driving that fast if--

There was an arm wrapping around his waist, and Roxy leaned her head against his shoulder wordlessly. Whether it was for herself or for him was up for debate, but then the radio crackled, a familiar voice filling the cabin.

“Merlin, do you read me? I could use a lift home.”

Something he didn’t know was there loosened in his chest as Merlin visibly swallowed before answering back. “Loud and clear Galahad. I’ll arrange transport.”

--------

No one actually celebrated new agents. There was always the risk that they wouldn’t make it out alive from their first mission, and no one wanted to get attached too easily. But Harry still made the time to invite him over for dinner.

The man had changed in Kentucky. There was just something off, something different. A hint of wildness that couldn’t quite be concealed despite all of Harry’s careful mannerisms. Before the Church Harry had been a perfect candidate for the next Arthur. Now he wasn’t even an option, and Merlin had already taken Eggsy aside and murmured that for a few missions at least they’d be partnered, more for Harry’s benefit than his own. Not even Merlin fully trusted Harry right now, and that was something Eggsy was struggling to come to terms with. It was still Harry, and even if there were a few moments of uncertainty he was the most trustworthy bloke Eggsy knew. He’d trust him with his life, so he had no problems going on missions with him.

“I had already accepted that I would never see you as an agent,” Harry said as he poured a measure of whisky into a two tumblers, tone light and conversational, skirting around the fight they’d had before he’d left. Before Eggsy had watched him get shot in the head, his left eye still bandaged in proof. “So this is an auspicious day, wouldn’t you say Sir Kay? The need for additional agents is never a good thing, but you had too much potential for us to lose you.”

“I still think that final test was fucked up,” Eggsy replied stubbornly, but he still raised his glass, at Harry’s salute, watching for a moment as his mentor tipped the glass back and swallowed before quickly downing his own. “But even after all that shit with Valentine Merlin wants me to have fucking training wheels.” He snorted, hoping Harry wouldn’t pick up on the lie. Their partnership wouldn’t be for him. “Still, ain’t no one I’d rather learn from,” he admitted as he set the tumbler back down.

“It makes far more sense than just tossing you out there on your own,” Harry admitted. “They did that to me, and obviously I survived, but there were others not as fortunate. That is the primary problem of recruiting those with nothing left to lose. Too many of us are willing to throw absolutely everything into the job. I remember the previous Gaheris did not survive his third mission, but he did successfully bring down a child trafficking ring.”

Harry didn’t look up, just reached for the decanter and poured himself a sloppy measure of whisky, a good bit more than the last one, but Eggsy did nothing to stop him or slow him down. He recognized that look, and he hated seeing it on Harry’s face, the lines of grief were even more deeply etched on his face than Eggsy had ever seen them on his own, but then again, Harry had probably met his soulmate. The Gaheris of old probably had too, had probably felt his soulmate being taken from him. Had probably been happy to finally join them. Perhaps that was why Harry seemed off now that he’d returned from Kentucky. It was entirely possible that he’d thought he’d finally get to join his soulmate, and yet somehow he’d lived, and been brought back to them to continue what existence he had, half of a whole that would be broken so long as he lived.

And yet something inside him preferred this. Preferred looking up from his plate to see Harry with a caged look in his eye, knowing that Harry was still here with him, broken as he was.

--------

“Merlin, we needed that extraction team 17 minutes ago.”

Harry’s voice snapped harsher than Eggsy could ever remember hearing it, and while it was difficult to focus on the words he knew Harry was overreacting. They’d cleared the warehouse, there was no one left. All 19 opponents were down, dead or unconscious and bound hand and foot. So one of them had gotten a lucky shot in on his arm. Honestly, that bit sucked, but while it was bleeding pretty good he was pretty sure the artery was fine. He just happened to have a hole in his arm. Of course he’d bleed.

Harry had already wrapped a tourniquet around his arm a couple of minutes ago, slowing the ooze of blood, and he was sitting on the roof with the older man, waiting for their helicopter that was who-the-fuck-knew where, but otherwise everything was over and done with. Nothing too major. They had this. Just like they had for the past several missions.

“Eggsy?” He could feel Harry’s hand patting his face, slightly harder than he appreciated. “Eggsy I need you to stay with me. I need you to stay awake.”

He blinked slowly, trying to force Harry into focus. Right, stay awake. Good plan, but not quite as good as sleep. Harry was running his hand through his hair, which was probably not part of his good plan, because he was probably leaving streaks of blood in between the locks, either Eggsy’s own or someone else’s. Honestly, at this point it was anyone’s guess.

There was a moment where Harry looked uncertain, but then he settled down into a loose sprawl next to him, knees partially drawn up so his feet were still planted on the ground, just in case he needed to get up quickly. “Eggsy, have I ever told you about the first time I went snowboarding?”

Eggsy waited for him to continue, but there was only silence, and he realized Harry was watching him, waiting for an answer. His tongue felt heavy, but he managed to open his mouth, mumbling out a soft “No.”

Harry nodded, but flicked his gaze away, staring into the distance, eyes going unfocused as he began to speak, his voice low and steady.

“It was all Lyn’s idea. In 1987 everything was white. Just when you’d think the roads would be clear it’d snow again, and it was brutally cold. On one of the days before the next storm blew in Lyn managed to drag me out to the lodge her family had frequented when she was growing up. I thought it was a last minute decision, but when we got there they were expecting us, and I found out our vacation had actually been planned for months. That was Lyn for you, she’d suggest something that sounded like she’d made it up on the spot, but she’d already know everything about it.”

Harry’s voice was filled with fondness, and Eggsy found himself trying to even breathe quietly, not wanting to distract him.

“Snowboards weren’t precisely new, but they were beginning to gain popularity. Apparently she’d called ahead and had them order in a couple so they’d be a surprise when we got there. I can still remember walking out of the lodge carrying that contraption, and the look on the ski instructors faces were absolutely horrified. They were trying to keep us from getting on the ski lift, but Lyn just had a way about her. Most of the time she’d convince someone it was their own suggestion to give in to what she wanted, she could make the most outrageous demands and they’d be met with a smile. Hell, even I was going along with it, and I had no clue what I was doing.

“It all went fairly well actually, until we got to the top of the slope. It was just the beginner one, we had no interest in pretending to be better than we were, but it was too late to back out by then.

“There are some people that think snowboarding and skiing are relatively similar. Your feet are strapped down, you’re on snow, and you’re going down a hill. In fact, those are the only similarities. Lyn had at least looked into it a bit, and knew a few of the basic concepts, but I was clueless. I was in my twenties, so I was relatively fit, but it was nothing like I was expecting. We finally maneuvered to the slope and started down, and I figured out pretty much immediately I had no control. Lyn passed me, laughing and telling me to bend my knees, which was all well and good, but I was headed straight for a tree and couldn’t get the damn thing to swerve to save my soul.

“In the end the only thing I could do was sit down and then try to scoot sideways to get out of the tree’s path. The entire way down the hill was me getting the board going, and when it started to pick up speed sitting down so I wouldn’t get too out of control. Lyn was in tears by the time I got to the bottom of the hill. She helped me undo the straps and then insisted I go in to have a hot cuppa and warm up.”

There was a moment of silence then, Harry either lost in the tale or finished with it, but Eggsy was awake now, not struggling to keep his eyes open.

“What about Lyn, she go in with you?”

Harry snorted, shaking his head gently. “Hardly. As soon as I was squared away she headed over to the lift. We were only there for a long weekend, but by the third day she was taking the hardest routes and using my snowboard to teach anyone that was interested. She even managed to sway one of the ski instructors. Wound up leaving the boards with him when we headed home, but we got free rentals there any time we went back.”

Harry fell silent again, but this time Eggsy got the feeling that it wouldn’t be good to break the silence, not matter how tempted he was. He wanted Harry to keep talking, curious about Lyn but also fascinated by finding out more about the man beside him. Thankfully the telltale sound of a helicopter reached his ears before he could make a fool out of himself. Harry stood, back in business mode, then reached down to help him up, slinging an arm around his back to support him as the helicopter landed and they made their way over, a medic jumping down to help him aboard.

--------

Harry hadn’t talked about Lyn since. There had been several more missions, with a staggering success rate that meant no one was keen to separate them, but she simply hadn’t come up. In fact, it was as if Harry had forgotten that he’d told him that story entirely. It was over a month later that he mentioned her again, and this time their circumstances were rather unusual.

For once, they’d been captured. Oh, it was nothing dire. In fact it fit into Eggsy’s plan rather nicely, even if Harry had hissed that he was being rash when he’d suggested it right before he’d proceeded to get them both caught by the goons patrolling the compound.

Really, it was the best way to get an audience with the actual leader of this little cult, and Eggsy had made up some nonsense about visions on the spot, ensuring that they’d at least get to meet him or her before they were killed.

He had this under control, already working at the sloppily tied rope holding his wrists together. Harry’s had been tied up proper, with knots Eggsy was frankly jealous of, but he’d be free of his own and able to work on Harry’s well before anyone came back for them, if their “guards” were to be believed.

He was almost finished pushing the rope through the knot when Harry began speaking.

“I haven’t been in Derby in over 30 years. Oh, I’ve been through, but I never bothered to stop.”

“Damn, 30 years? Course the better question is: why the fuck were you in Derby in the first place?”

“A concert, believe it or not. The Touch Tour, take five.”

The knot was unraveled, but he didn’t bother moving other than twisting his wrists a few times. Harry seemed to be in a talkative mood, and fuck if he was going to let that pass by. “Take five?”

“Take five.” There was almost a bit of pain in Harry’s voice at that, and when Eggsy twisted to glance behind him he could see the older man shaking his head.

“It was a Eurythmics tour. Oh, it started out innocently enough. Lyn liked their music well enough, always turning up the radio whenever they came on. We drove to a concert in Nottingham and it was okay. I had several drinks and we danced, and foolishly I thought that was it.

“Maybe two weeks later they put out a new album, and Lyn was already listening to it by the time I got home. I have no idea how many times she’d listened to it, but she was already starting to sing along. Two days later she had me in Leicaster. It wasn’t until the third concert that weekend that I started to worry. She swore on the drive to London that Here comes the rain again spoke to her on another level. A deeper level,” Harry’s voice had taken on that fond quality again, despite the faint exasperation that was clearly evident, and Eggsy found himself relaxing, simply enjoying the story, grinning as he imagined Harry drug about to the various concerts, trying to picture him when he was in his late teens.

He hadn’t actually seen any pictures of Harry from back then, if the man had any they weren’t on display anywhere in his house that Eggsy had seen. Perhaps Merlin knew something. And since he had no fucking clue what Lyn looked like it was easier to imagine Harry. He could picture Harry’s face as he was pulled along into some nonsense or another, like the look on his face when he knew Eggsy was going to get them captured, and how his expression had smoothed into acceptance. Harry being startled into actually grinning, something Eggsy had only seen a few times. A young Harry dancing to Synthpop, with the woman that Eggsy was fairly certain was his soulmate. Carefree.

“By the end of it we’d been to six concerts in a month, and I had to talk her out of following them to New Zealand in February. She wasn’t thrilled about missing the concert, so one day I came home to find out that she’d cut and dyed her hair to match the cover of Touch. I thought her mother would have a heart attack when we went to Sunday dinner. She probably still blames me for it.

“I would pay a lot of money to not have to remember every single word of their earlier albums,” Harry added with a groan, and Eggsy let out a snort of laughter.

“I bet.” He was about to say more, but at that moment a door slammed somewhere near their vicinity, and just like that the easygoing mood was shattered. “You got your ropes undone or?”

“Please,” Harry scoffed, “I was free before you bothered untying the rope around your ankles. We’ll maintain our positions until we ensure that their leader is actually here though. You focus on subduing him, I’ll take care of the rest.”

And just like that they were back in business, eager to maintain their near perfect record.

-------

He should have known better than to take a break for tea with Roxy. She was far more perceptive than she had any right to be.

“You’ve got that look again, penny for your thoughts?” One perfectly groomed eyebrow was arched at him as she took a sip of her tea, and not for the first time he wondered how she managed to drink it without adding anything to it, not even a squeeze of lemon.

“I ain’t got no look,” he muttered, but they both knew he was putting on a front, and with a sigh he slumped back against the headboard, careful to not jar his neck. It wasn’t much, just whiplash and a concussion, but Merlin wanted him to take it easy for a day or two.

“It’s just, sometimes Harry tells these stories, alright? Normally when we’re up shit creek without a paddle. Pretty sure he just does it to distract me, but damn it works. Thing is, I’d fucking swear they’re about his soulmate. Don’t make sense otherwise. But I can’t fucking stop thinking about them.”

He was classy enough that he wasn’t going to spill all of those stories, and there was another part of him that flat out didn’t want to. That liked imagining that other than Harry he was the only one that knew about Lyn’s horse bolting, and how she’d emerged from the woods hours later with mud splattered up to her neck, swearing Harry into silence as he kept look out while she rinsed off in the horse trough. He’d had to suppress laughter as Harry told him about misdirecting one of the stable hands, shoulders shaking as he tried to keep up their surveillance on the Bulgarian diplomat.

Then there were the pranks she’d pulled on one of their mutual friends while they’d been in University, and the way that Harry’d actually helped that friend prank her back. All he could think of was the devious grin that had been on Harry’s face when he’d recalled Lyn emerging from the Dean’s office, face scarlet, but he just couldn’t picture Lyn’s face as she realized what had happened. Apparently she’d accepted the joke with grace, something Eggsy was absolutely certain he wouldn’t have been able to do, and both Harry and their friend, Rebecca, had helped Lyn with her punishment of cleaning off a wall coated in graffiti.

No, those were stories he was keeping to himself, but it was probably okay if he talked about them. “I know it don’t make no fucking sense to want to hear stories about someone I ain’t never met. I got that. Still want more though. Can’t just fucking ask for more, you know?” He shrugged and glowered at his tea before taking a large drink, not really caring if he slurped.

For a moment Roxy mulled it over before shrugging. “I suppose the obvious explanation is that you’re fixated on these stories because they’re a part of Harry. I don’t know him nearly as well as you, but he’s more open with you than probably anyone but Merlin.” She set down her mug carefully before leaning forward a bit. “I’ve seen the two of you together, it would certainly make sense if you were interested in him.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel like this is all fucking better somehow?” Eggsy fought back the wave of hysteria that threatened to burst forth. “My soulmate was some old bird, and Harry’s was also female, and at least someone close to his damn age. And they’re both dead.”

Plus, her explanation didn’t quite ring true, and he wasn’t sure how to explain it to her so that she’d understand. It really wasn’t just Harry that he fixated on, but Lyn too. The more he heard about her, the more he wished he’d been able to meet her. It sounded like the 80s had been a real lark.

“Just because your soulmate is dead doesn’t mean you are,” Roxy said quietly, but her voice carried easily in the small room. “You still have options. In case you weren’t aware, Percival and the previous Lancelot were in a relationship. Lancelot was in our situation, he lost his soulmate before he found them.”

“And Percival?”

Roxy signed, twisting to glance at the door to make sure one had entered in the past couple of minutes. “His soulmate is still alive actually, the bloody wanker. He’s one of those religious types, the type that doesn’t accept bonds that are not male and female joined together. I don’t know exactly how he rejected him, but Percival found his way here somehow, and other than your record with Harry he’s the most successful agent that Kingsman has. You can have a life beyond your mark.”

“Yeah, but none of that changes the fact that Harry’s straight, and I’m supposed to be.” Because he wasn’t going to deny that he was, in some way, drawn to Harry, it’d just be a waste of time. Being with Harry was simple. Oh they argued, but then again life would be a fucking bore if everyone just agreed all the time.

Roxy set aside her cup of tea and settled back in her chair, lifting her feet up to rest them on his bed, legs crossed at her ankles. “If you like him then you should have figured out already that not everything is black and white. As far as you know this could go both ways, and I think you may as well take a risk. Sure, you can’t just go around prying into his past to hear stories about his soulmate, but there’s plenty you could be doing.”

“And with all this going on you’re not bothered by the fact that he’s over twice my age?”

Roxy shrugged. “Sounds like you might be, but wasn’t your soulmate a bit older than Harry?” A grin flitted across her face. “It seems to me like maybe you’re attracted to cougars. It’s not the type I’d have pegged you for, but now I can see it.”

Eggsy didn’t even bother to feel bad when his spare pillow smacked her squarely in the face, and then he proceeded to blatantly point out his injury to spare himself from retaliation (for now). But despite their chat not everything seemed to be quite as easy as she made it out to be, so for the time being he simply tucked aside her observations. He could deal with those later.

---------

Things were different this time. In the past Harry’s stories had always been told by him in a relatively calm voice as he sought to distract or entertain Eggsy for some reason.

This time, Harry’s blood was oozing through Eggsy’s fingers as he pressed down on Harry’s stomach, desperately trying to staunch the blood flow. It was Harry that needed to stay awake this time, but it wasn’t like he had any stories to tell him. A visit to a gravesite wasn’t exactly an uplifting tale.

“You know, all this time and you still ain’t fucking told me how you and Lyn met.”

He wasn’t actually sure if it would work or not, but after a moment Harry closed his eye and gave a tiny nod. “I believe you may be right.”

Still there was a noticeable pause before Harry spoke again, the gap filled with Merlin assuring him that a medical evac was on it’s way.

“Lyn was a debutante, the proper sort. Her family was actually minor nobility, though they didn’t really have a title to speak of. They still had a nice estate though, and money. Money old enough that no one bothered to point out that she simply went by her name.”

Harry’s voice was soft, but it wasn’t like Eggsy was going anywhere soon as he applied pressure. “My mother forced me into attending a few blasted social events here and there, but we really hadn’t met. I was waiting outside, looking for the girl I was escorting in so we could be announced and then I could hit up the hopefully spiked punch, when Lyn swooped in.

“Back then, Lyn didn’t always think out her plans. All she was thinking about was the fact that her date had a crush on mine, and someone should let them be together. She’d sent them in together, then come to find me so she’d still have an escort.

“All in all, it wasn’t the riskiest thing she ever did, but judging by the way the room was shocked into silence at our appearance, it was a bigger deal than I’d realized.” There was a wry smile on his lips, but it sharpened into a grimace of pain quickly enough.

“My family was new money, and that meant that I was entirely unsuitable to be her escort. Everyone else knew it, I had no idea who she was, and to Lyn it simply didn’t matter. In fact, once people started reacting I think she was more determined to have fun than before.”

All of that sounded amazing, but what was even better were the flashing lights of an ambulance now visible as it rushed toward them. There was the tiniest twinge of guilt that even despite Harry’s predicament he was losing himself to this tale, but he didn’t have it in him to stop the older man from speaking.

“It was just so easy to get along with her. I hated those stuffy parties, but two hours into it she drug me off to the gardens, getting me alone so she could show me her mark. After that no one could deny that we were meant to be together, even though her parents were dismayed at which family I’d come from. They finally, and grudgingly, accepted me, deciding that there were people out there even more unsuitable than me, and we all know Lyn would have taken to them just as quickly. She never stood by that classist nonsense.”

Harry probably would have kept speaking, but the medics were tumbling out the back of the vehicle to take over, and as soon as others arrived on the scene he closed off. He did, however, open his eye again, meeting Eggsy’s before the medics brushed him out of the way.

-------

He was obsessing.

He knew it, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. No matter what he tried to focus on, Harry’s words twisted through his brain. Every story, sure, but also every minute detail of those stories.

He was even starting to dream about them. He could hear Lyn’s laughter in his mind, not some flighty little giggle but rather a deep belly, gasping for air sort of laugh. She probably touched Harry when he made her laugh, fingers dragging on his back or briefly lighting on his arm, little gestures that he longed to make himself. Most of his downtime was spent imagining those moments, and he was fairly certain he was starting to go mad.

Merlin actually made it worse.

The Scotsman had taken him aside while Harry was still in surgery, informing him that Harry never told those stories to anyone else (though of course Merlin knew of them, they were constantly monitored on missions after all), and cautioning him that if either of them seemed compromised they would have to be assigned separately. He knew he should have taken it as a warning, but instead Eggsy could only focus on the fact that Harry was opening up to him specifically.

Perhaps Roxy had a point. It seemed possible now that Harry had some sort of interest in him, but there was always the risk that he merely considered Eggsy his protege, and that Eggsy was reading too much into something entirely innocent.

What it meant was that he avoided Harry’s room in the medical wing for two days, finally showing up after Roxy gave him shit about it.

Just walking into the room, seeing Harry sitting up and reading a newspaper, somehow relaxed him. All of the sudden it seemed foolish that he’d been avoiding dropping by in the first place, and he paced over to the side of the bed, holding out a Carmello. “Was going to bring you something stronger, but I figured whisky would fuck with the bloody pain meds.”

“Trust me, anything is better than the swill they’re serving.”

Harry’s tone was dry, but Eggsy had already noticed the change in his demeanor since he’d walked in. Harry was sitting up a little straighter, and as soon as he took the chocolate from him he was unwrapping it, breaking off a square and biting in. Somehow when he ate it the caramel seemed to just string delicately back where it had come from, rather than on his chin or fingers, the way it always did to Eggsy.

“Yeah? Well you’ve been here longer than I have, why ain’t you done nothing about this shit yet? Last time they gave me some sort of fucking gravy that they seemed to think was mashed potatoes. Fell straight through my damn fork.” He shuddered to think of it, but the memory still haunted him. It was unreasonable how bad the food was for those that were injured, especially since the food was otherwise palatable if you had to eat at HQ.

He accepted the next square of the bar with a nod of thanks, popping it into his mouth all at once to avoid the caramel predicament, then absentmindedly licking his fingers.

“Is it the food you were avoiding?” Harry queried, aiming for nonchalant, but Eggsy was pretty sure there was an undercurrent of something else there. His suspicions were confirmed when Harry continued. “I was wondering if I’d somehow managed to scare you off.”

“Please.” Eggsy snorted at the idea as he moved a couple of things off of the nightstand so he could sit, unable to be bothered with dragging one of the chairs over from the corner of the room. “I’m used to you not avoiding bullets by now. I recommend avoiding them, it’s fucking convenient to not get holed up in a hospital bed for days.”

“I was more concerned that it was my stories that put you off. I am well aware that it’s slightly peculiar in our line of work to tell someone else about our soulmates.” Harry wasn’t looking at him now, eye fixed on the door, the partially eaten chocolate growing sticky as it warmed between his fingers.

“I don’t mind.” The words slipped through his lips easily, because he really didn’t have to think about them. “Actually, I like them. Lyn seemed like a fucking bad as--” he snapped his mouth shut, wishing now that he’d actually stopped to think before speaking, especially when a strangled noise left Harry.

He glanced up, concerned, and that was when he realized the bastard was actually laughing.

It seemed like ages before Harry managed to get himself under control, though in reality it probably wasn’t that long. Long enough for Harry to have to place a hand over where he was bandaged however. “Damn, she’d have enjoyed hearing that. I think she would have liked you.” There was a pause, one Eggsy didn’t know how to fill, or even if he should, before Harry spoke again. “That’s probably why it’s so easy to talk to you about her. Lyn was larger than life. Of course, she normally planned out her stunts, so she was fully aware of the danger, but I think she’d have appreciated how you just throw yourself into things.”

The room lapsed into silence, but it was an easy, familiar sort of quiet, something they enjoyed for quite a few minutes before the one question that Eggsy knew he shouldn’t ask finally succeeded in shoving its way to the forefront of his mind.

“Harry, what happened?”

It was the wrong thing to say, and for the first time he watched Harry close down at something he said, his expression shuttered.

“I think it’s time for my next dose of medicine,” the older man said tersely, pressing the button to call the nurse, and Eggsy wasn’t going to push it.

He did pause at the door however, turning slightly but not enough to actually look at his mentor. “Get well quickly, alright? It ain’t the same without you.”

-------

It took several missions after Harry was back on his feet before he actually talked about Lyn again. It wasn’t even a full story, merely an observation that she’d hated Guy Fawkes Day, because she hated fireworks, though Harry didn’t explain why.

But in a way the remarks felt like forgiveness, and for the first time in several weeks Eggsy actually slept the entire night through.

When he woke up he changed Harry’s ringtone to Here comes the rain again, then headed off to M&S rather than scrounge for breakfast in his flat.

-------

He didn’t know how Harry could do it, because just thinking about him being up in some hotel room with the ambassador sickened him. She’d been tipsy, dragging Harry into the elevator with her by his tie, and Eggsy’s stomach had been in knots ever since.

At his request Merlin had muted the volume Harry’s mic would have sent him, telling him in a voice that was far too gentle that he’d unmute it if there was any vital information coming through that Eggsy needed to be aware of, but for now he couldn’t decide which was worse: listening or dealing the with almost crushing silence.

Finally there was the faintest sound of his earpiece coming back online. “Sir Kay, I may require some assistance with this extraction. It seems as though the ambassador has guards posted in the hall. Two of them from what I can tell, but they have earpieces, so there may be others in the hotel.”

“Understood Galahad. I’m two floors below you, so I’ll be up momentarily. Merlin, what’s our quietest option?”

He made his way to the stairs, trying to fight back the sick feeling in his stomach, taking the stairs at an easy pace as he waited for Merlin to get back to him.

“The stairs are you best option for stealth, they’re taking turns patrolling the floor, but there are corners. Wait for my signal before you exit the stairwell. You’ll want the second door on your left. Let the door click shut, it may get their attention and they’ll go to investigate.”

He did as instructed, briskly walking down the hall to the room indicated, which turned out to be a small supply closet. He had barely made it inside, the door barely cracked open, when the guard moved past his hiding place, intent on the stairwell door. Eggsy focused on silence as he slipped out the door, moving up and aiming a well aimed blow to the back of his head, catching the man before he fell so he could lower him to the floor easily, then quickly stripping him of the radio and earpiece, putting it into his free ear.

“Alright Kay,” Merlin’s voice was back in his ear. “Move toward the end of the hall. On my mark you’ll round the corner to catch the guard at the door’s attention. Galahad, wait three seconds then exit the room. The guard should be distracted, and you should be able to drop him before he raises an alarm.”

Eggsy said nothing, not risking the noise as Harry made a small indication of acknowledgement. Merlin had access to cameras as well as their glasses, he would know when everyone was in position.

On his mark he rounded the corner, easy as you please, the guard jolting when he realized that Eggsy wasn’t his partner, then after a split second raising his weapon.

It was the split second that fucked him over, because Harry was there, knocking the guard unconscious in a disturbingly similar way to what Eggsy had just done, lowering the man and stripping off the ear piece and radio precisely as he’d done, then nodding toward the elevator.

He managed to make it to the elevator, which opened despite neither of them pressing a button, Merlin having taken control and sending it straight to them, bypassing the floors that would simply have to wait for one of the others. But once they were in, the door closing next to him, there was nothing else to focus on but Harry. Harry who looked almost as pristine as usual, except for the fact that his tie was still crooked, and all Eggsy could picture was the Ambassador’s immaculately manicured nails wrapped around the fabric.

That was the only explanation he had for why he reached out, intending to straighten the tie back out, and the next thing he knew he was stepping forward, surging up to the balls of his feet to press his lips against Harry’s.

After a second his brain caught up to his body, his eyes flying back open, and he would have scrambled away if it wasn’t for the fact that just then Harry responded, kissing him back.

It wasn’t perfect. He’d practically attacked Harry’s mouth after all, but that didn’t seem to actually be a problem. It was still somehow the best kiss of his life, and in fact, the kiss was lingering, and it probably would have continued without Merlin buzzing in their ear.

“Find some other time to do this, if I hold the elevator much longer it’s going to become obvious. Plus, you two really need to clear the area. You’ll have plenty of time to work out whatever this is later.”

------

The only thing about figuring things out later was that it required words, and figuring out feelings, and other things that would have been a lot easier if they’d just spent a few more minutes in the elevator rather than being awkwardly stuck in a car with no idea what to say, then being separated for debriefings. Now it was the next day, and he was no closer to knowing what to say than he’d been in the elevator, and Roxy had been sent to Sterling, so it wasn’t like he could just hop over to her flat to beg for advice.

However, there was one other person he probably needed to tell about this.

He’d only done this a couple of other times, that first time, when he’d come back from the Marines, and when he’d become an agent, but by now there was certain ritual to it. He had access to a car now, but it just seemed right to take a train out, stopping and getting that same cheap-arse bottle of shit he’d snagged the first time, then heading to the florist. The bouquet was larger this time, he could afford better, and she deserved better. Maybe someday he’d be able to look up her family without breaking down, and could find out what flowers she preferred, but for now he let the florist pick out an assorted bouquet, assuring her it was perfect before he headed down the lane toward the cemetery.

It was always a relief to get there and see that the cemetery was actually kept up. There were no weeds daring to grow disrespectfully around her grave, and the headstone was in good condition. He set the flowers down, fussing with them for just a moment before sitting down and cracking open the bottle, needing a swig to get him started.

The alcohol burned as it went down, it was shit after all, and maybe he was fucked in the head to be here in the first place, but it just seemed right.

“Look, I know it’s been a while, but shit just keeps happening, yeah? Got some intel yesterday that should save half of the free world or something like that, so at least I’ve got a good reason. Mostly though I came to tell you about what happened afterwards. I ain’t so sure you’d be happy for me, or if you’d call me a twat for even being here, but that’s always been the problem, ain’t it? I don’t know what you’d think, so I ain’t got no fucking clue if you’d be pleased that I maybe found someone else, or if you’d rather I pined for you forever.

“Fucking hell, even I don’t know if I’m happy about it or not. I mean, he didn’t pull away, but what does that even fucking mean? I could have screwed everything up, he trusted me, and I just risked all of that for a kiss.”

He took another long draught from the bottle, not caring about the burn, and was quiet for a moment before speaking again. “He’s like me you know. Lost his soulmate, but at least he got the chance to know his. Here I am, talking to your grave for fuck’s sake. Just seemed wrong not to tell you. It’s weird, right? I keep trying to tell myself it’s fine cause you ain’t around, but it still seemed wrong not to tell you. I mean, I guess if things were swapped I’d want you to find someone else, so I hope you’re okay with this. And if you ain’t, well, I’d prefer it if you didn’t haunt me or some shit like that.”

In the distance a car door slammed, but he didn’t pay it much mind. He’d said the important bits, and he was young, with a functioning liver. He took another swig, staring at the tombstone and trying to imagine what his soulmate would really think of all this. Probably surprised he’d be interested in a bloke since his soulmate was a woman, probably not surprised at the whole age difference. Roxy was probably right, he’d never realized it was his type but he hadn’t really been attracted to anyone at school. Too immature. And surely his own soulmate would prefer that he go out there and find happiness than mope around at her gravesite, though he still had every intention of coming back every couple of years like he had been.

“What the fuck are you doing.”

He’d been lost in his thoughts, his guard down, and he hadn’t even noticed anyone approaching. So much for fucking spy instincts. But that wasn’t what startled him the most. No, that was reserved for the fact that he recognized the voice speaking to him as he jolted from his thoughts, staring up at the stormy expression on Harry’s face.

“Did you fucking follow me? How long have you bloody been here?”

He scrambled to his feet, surprise replaced with anger. Anger at being seen at the one place where he truly just let go, and anger at himself for not covering his tracks. Fuck, he had a pair of glasses in his pocket in case he got an emergency call. Harry had probably had Merlin track him, the wanker.

“Why would I be following you,” Harry hissed. “How did you find this place to begin with.”

“How else does anyone bloody find anything? I got the address from the fucking registry.”

For the first time since he’d shown up Harry seemed confused, faltering for a second. “The registry?”

“Yes, the fucking registry. You know, that place you go pay to find out you’re all alone in the world. But what I don’t fucking know is why you’re here. Sod off, I ain’t doing whatever it is you want right now.”

“I refuse to leave. I have no idea how you got my personal information from that infernal registry, but I can guarantee that they’ll be receiving a complaint from my lawyer. And you have no right to send me away from Lyn’s gravesite just because you’re pissed. Go home and sort yourself out.”

“What the fuck’re you on about?” His head hurt, and he had been sure the bottle was still full enough that he wasn’t completely smashed, but Harry wasn’t making any sense. “This ain’t Lyn’s grave, this is Elizabeth’s.”” He raised one finger, pointing it at Harry, and finally it all made sense. “You’re in the wrong place, bruv.”

“I assure you I am not, I’ve been coming here for over twenty years. Elizabeth Jocelyn Harrison, or, as she preferred, Lyn. She hated her first name, she thought it was ridiculous that they’d actually named her after the queen.”

Eggsy stared at him, not quite believing his ears, blood pounding loudly enough in his ears that he could hear his heartbeat. Harry looked as perplexed as he felt, and after a moment there was really only one thing he could think of to do. He set the bottle down on the ground, then reached for his belt, fingers clumsy as he struggled to get it undone.

That if anything seemed to shock Harry out just standing there. “What on earth are you doing.”

“Just shut the fuck up for a minute, yeah?”

He finally managed it, then had to struggle with the button of his jeans and his zip before shoving his jeans down. “See,” he said, voice triumphant, “a perfect match for the mark on Elizabeth Jocelyn Harrison. Said so on the paper, perfect match. Same size, shape, color, and same location. Inner thigh, right above the knee. I’ve got a right to be here, and you ain’t getting me to leave no time soon.”

It was only after he registered Harry’s silence and looked up to see the man fixated on the mark, that his brain started trying to put the pieces together, because now there was a few pieces of information to work with.

“Harry?”

Wordlessly Harry’s hands moved to his own belt buckle, but his hands were far more adept. In no time flat he had his trousers pushed past his silk boxers, and Eggsy could see an identical mark on his leg.

“Oh.”

“Oh indeed.” Harry’s voice was quiet and raw, and he looked up to meet the older man’s gaze. His soulmate’s gaze. “I’ve heard about people with two soulmates, but I’d never actually met any of them. I didn’t know it was real.”

“You think...no, fuck that, I went to the registry. You didn’t come up.”

“Kingsman agent,” Harry reminded him. “Merlin is good at what he does, I’ve been a ghost in the system for two decades. I wouldn’t have shown up if you didn’t get the information until you were 18.”

“And you’d never check because who would ever think they had more than one.” It all seemed surreal somehow, and he could tell Harry was just as lost as he was right now, but he just couldn’t figure out what to say.

Thankfully Harry rescued him. “I suppose I should properly introduce you to Lyn then. She kept her name when we got married, she said she’d already perfected her autograph.”

“You got any pictures of her?” Now he didn’t have to disguise the longing in his voice, and he didn’t even have to wonder why it was there. It all made sense now, because it had just clicked when he’d seen Harry’s mark.

“At home,” Harry murmured. “She was obsessed with Polaroids. I’ve got boxes of them stashed away.”

He was still wrapping his head around the fact that he still had a soulmate and he was actually going to get to learn about Eli--Lyn as a throat cleared, and when he finally managed to drag his eyes away from Harry it was to see a very amused looking policeman. “Gentlemen, I’m going to have to request that you put your trousers back on and vacate the premises. You’ve all but scandalized Mrs. Robertson when she put her cat out in the garden. Around here we realize Mrs. Robertson has a bit too much time with her binoculars, but I don’t think this is the place for whatever you’re planning.”

“Of course officer,” Harry replied, and somehow he was already buckling his belt as eggsy scrambled to work his jeans over his thighs. “Please give our apologies to Mrs. Robertson then.”

“Oh, no need for that, but our volunteer firefighter department would love a visit if you’d be willing to help them with next year’s calendar.”

------

It was surreal being back in Harry’s house. Nothing had changed, but somehow everything was different. It was almost like Harry was seeing it with new eyes as well, because he kept commenting on things. Things that Lyn had purchased, or how she’d made him keep his “creepy” butterfly collection stored away.

For some reason, the fact that Eggsy sided with her, telling Harry that it really was fucking creepy, only made him smile. The small, private smile where Harry tended to glance away, as if somehow that would conceal the emotion.

They ended up having curry delivered, moving to the living room to eat as they shared the couch, sitting close enough to share the photo albums and for Eggsy to occasionally steal bites of Harry’s saag paneer when he was putting something away.

He was picking up a new album as Harry took the trash to kitchen when Harry’s mobile rang.

“Oi, Merlin’s calling.” He tossed Harry’s phone over to him as the man, his soulmate (and no he was not going to get over that any time soon) walked back into the room, desperate to get the painful bagpipe ringtone to stop, and after a moment Harry pressed the power button instead, cutting the call before looking up.

“My apologies, my hand slipped. Now then, where were we. Oh yes, this was in 1988, when she decided that it was a travesty that we’d never been bungee jumping...”

#Kingsman #Hartwin #Harry Hart #Eggsy Unwin #Soulmate au #soulmates #Harry Hart/OFC (past)#Eggsy Unwin/OFC (slight)

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charity-angel · 7 years

Text

On Buns and Ovens (12/?)

[Part 1] [Part 11]

[Read on AO3]

They swung into action. Jesse utilised some of his more dubious talents to reprogram Fives’ ID chip to broadcast Echo’s original CT number of 21-0408, but Fives refused to take his dead brother’s name too (and rightly so, everyone agreed. Numbers were one thing, but a name was everything). That, he took inspiration for from Waxer.

“What was that word Numa used?” he asked, tracing the image of the little Twi’lek girl on their fallen brother’s bucket. “Dammit, Echo would have known.”

“Nerra,” Boil said, his eyes soft. “Means vod in Ryl.”

Kix was impressed: three languages in the space of five words.

Fives was nodding thoughtfully. “That’s it. At least if I can’t be me, I can still be a brother.”

“Nerra it is,” Jesse said, finishing off his highly illegal modification of the service records.

(They had opted to return to the barracks for that – that way, Kenobi could at least claim that he didn’t know exactly what they were doing. There was no way they were implicating their jetii for everything, and this was something they could save him from.)

“Now the only thing is this,” Fives – Nerra – said with a sigh, touching his tattoo. “Don’t suppose you’ve got a slice to erase… no, Kix!”

Kix just raised his eyebrows. “What? I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t need to,” Fives grumbled as their vod’e grinned and Ahsoka snickered. “You spend far too much time with us to have not thought it.”

“So I’ll keep surgical intervention on the back burner then,” he responded, his face the picture of innocence.

“There are other ways,” Ahsoka suggested. “I’m pretty sure that Alyx probably has something in xir locker that would help.”

Kix wasn’t alone in his confusion: only Odd Ball, Alyx’s squadmate, seemed to understand Ahsoka’s reference to the 212th’s sister.

(Alyx identified xirself as female not long after xe realised that transgenderism was a thing, but preferred to use a gender-neutral pronoun. For now, at least.)

“I’m pretty sure that we could at least get a decent colour match based on what Alyx uses, even if it’s not exact.”

Ahsoka sighed at the blank faces surrounding her. “Men, honestly. Fives, you could use a bit of concealer to cover your tattoo until it’s safe for to be you again. It’s a cosmetic designed to cover up small patches of skin that’s discoloured for whatever reason.” She grinned mischievously and added: “Or for sometimes making white bits orange and orange bits white.”

The younger among the vod’e looked horrified. Rex and Fives seemed to understand, and Kix had to admit that he could see this one both ways.

“But… why?” Wooley asked. “You… you’re already unique.”

“Being unique isn’t always a good thing,” Rex said, rubbing at the golden stubble on his scalp. “Being unique was hard for me: I could never hide in the crowd, I was always the one picked on in training, pushed harder than anyone else because I was the obvious target. Ahsoka’s face has been on every news feed in the Republic: she can’t hide either.”

Kix had been there too, and knew it was true. Any vod who stood out ended up being pushed harder, because the Kaminoans saw them as flaws in the product, and they had to prove that whatever genetic aberrations they had didn’t detract from their overall quality. Kix had been slow to hit puberty, and another vod in his squad had been not only brunet but left handed too. They had also struggled, and Kix would have loved to be able to just be another face in the squad, once upon a time. Now the idea left him cold.

Ahsoka nodded in agreement with Rex. “It’s nice to not have to be me sometimes – just to go out and not be recognised.”

Fives snorted. “I get that. Even if I hate having to do all this, I get the desire to pass under the sensor grid.”

Jesse snorted. “Yeah, that makes sense. Even if the civvies can’t tell us apart, there’s no hiding what we are. Not here, at least. It’d be nice just to be able to walk down the street, take in the sights, and not be recognised.”

“Concealer?” Fives said to Ahsoka, bringing the conversation back to the pertinent point.

She nodded. “It’s pretty easy to pick up in stores, but getting the right colour can be tricky. That’s why I thought about Alyx: xir skin is going to be almost exactly the same shade as yours, give or take a bit of exposure to sunlight.”

“I’ll ask xir,” Odd Ball said. “Xe knows how to be discrete.”

“And if it doesn’t work for you, vod, there are always…”

Fives glared at Kix and he shut up. But then his brother seemed to slump in resignation.

“Last option,” he said softly. “Only if we absolutely have to.”

Kix nodded sympathetically. He knew he had felt the same way about losing his lightning bolts, and his hair would grow back soon enough – what Kix would need to do to Fives would be fairly permanent (although he would do his utmost to leave the skin intact enough that the artwork could be replaced in due course).

.oOo.

With Fives still on the loose, the 501st were grounded. Apparently, the Council felt that their presence would be of benefit to the manhunt. Ahsoka sardonically pointed out that they probably actually thought it would be far too easy for Fives to stow away offworld with the 501st.

That caused some amusement when Jesse fed it back to their friends, and some not inconsiderable relief.

“At least they’re not looking at us,” Boil said, slinging his arm around his newest sergeant. “We dodged that particular bolt.”

“We haven’t been given our next orders yet, either,” Cody pointed out. “Just because suspicion is mainly elsewhere doesn’t mean we’re out of the picture altogether.”

“All the more reason to move as fast as we can,” Rex said by way of agreement.

“And, of course, I’ll need a medic who won’t question why Sergeant Nerra has a five tattooed on his temple,” Cody said thoughtfully. “Just in case he gets himself injured.”

Kix rolled his eyes. Cody was dropping more and more hints that he wanted Ryll back with the 212th, and this particular one had a certain degree of logic to it. However…

“I said before, prove you can take care of a medic,” he growled. “You keep getting them killed.”

“Stick him with Boil,” Wooley suggested gleefully. “The droids are too scared of him to aim anywhere near.”

“Kix,” Cody said seriously, ignoring Wooley (mostly, anyway), “if you can tell me why I keep losing my medics, maybe I can do something about it. If it’s just a case of ‘I need a one who can take care of himself in the field’, well, I’m asking for one.”

Kix had absolutely no argument for that. It looked like he had as until the 212th got their marching orders to cram as much useful knowledge into Ryll’s head as possible.

Damn, he was going to miss that kid.

.oOo.

Odd Ball really came through with a plot to fake Fives’ escape from Coruscant. His quirky astromech had been badly damaged in their last battle – not so bad that it wasn’t salvageable, or functional, but enough that repair was going to be a long, costly process – and he and Alyx managed to talk it into acting as the ‘pilot’ for one last mission instead. They installed it into a standard shuttle and it was Jesse who, in blank armour, ‘sneaked’ onto the purloined vessel and took off.

In a move inspired by Fives’ faked escape from Kamino, Jesse jumped ship over 500 Republica, aiming for a secluded balcony away from any camera droids, with the idea that he would be brought to a safe landing by Ahsoka while R5 and the shuttle disappeared off into the atmosphere and, if all went according to plan, jumped to hyperspace before anyone could shoot it down.

(Although if it didn't go to plan, it would make things a bit more difficult, from the point of view of forensic evidence, but they could probably work it out anyway and then Fives would be considered ‘dead’ rather than ‘missing’.)

Kix watched Jesse’s leap with his heart in his mouth. He knew Ahsoka was capable – he knew it – but it was normally Skywalker who was responsible for catching a falling body. Normally Rex’s falling body. And Ahsoka seemed a little twitchy, although she was hiding it well.

Maybe she was just nervous about being responsible for Jesse’s wellbeing. Or maybe he was just seeing things that weren’t there.

Beside him, Senator Amidala sighed.

“Somehow I am not surprised that not only can Ahsoka do this, but that you apparently see this as something normal.” Her tone was dry.

“We trained to be ready for anything our jetiise could throw at us,” he responded, not able to tear his eyes from the shape hurtling towards them in freefall, “but I never thought they would be throwing and catching us.”

He could feel her eyes on him. “I take it this isn’t your cup of tea then?”

He shook his head vehemently. “Makes me glad I don’t spend all that much time right on the front lines. Jesse…”

He swallowed, his eyes still on his riduur as his fall finally slowed. The senator’s hand curled around his, squeezing gently, reassuringly. Assured that Jesse was safe, he glanced down and saw that Amidala’s eyes were filled with understanding that was probably hard-won.

Jesse, oblivious, landed gracefully on his feet and removed the foreign, blank bucket, laughing.

“He won’t understand,” Amidala said softly, her eyes now on the balcony. “You just have to hope he’ll carry on coming home to you.”

“Thanks, Commander,” Jesse said all too cheerfully to Ahsoka at the end of the balcony, his voice drifting over to them. “That was awesome.”

Kix squeezed Amidala’s hand back. “I always do. And it’s not like either of us is helpless either. Or safe.”

She chuckled, somewhat weakly. “You’re right, of course. And we’re less safe by the day, particularly since we are up to our necks in this conspiracy.”

Ahsoka and Jesse made their way into the apartment, grinning broadly. Jesse’s arm was slung over Ahsoka’s shoulders in a manner that looked careless, but was actually carefully avoiding putting pressure on her growing central lek.

“So far, so good,” Ahsoka said. “As long as R5 does its job, we’ll all be okay.”

[Part 13]

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formosusiniquis · 7 years

Text

Willing Descent

A birthday present for the extraordinary @derekhalesbitchface who deserves all this and more.

Summary: A modern retelling of the Persephone myth with a twist AO3

Persephone was the most beloved daughter of the goddess Demeter.

The Tug.gey family was as close to American royalty as you could get without sharing blood with a Kennedy. Old money, richer than God but they did their part to even that score every Sunday. Lindsay was their golden child, beloved by her stern mother and doted on by her distant father.

She was known throughout the land for her beauty and her kindness.

Lindsay was the perfect Southern debutante. A gentle smile with an easy grace, she carried herself the way you would expect the heir of the Tug.gey name and fortune to. She was good with people, and made connections wherever she went. Politeness, some called it. Others said a natural charisma. The ones who knew her best knew it was just her head for business.

While gathering flowers in a field, Persephone began to wander. Finding the flowers even more beautiful the farther out she went.

College called, the way it did for all good girls who came from money. Lindsay left home in a flurry of well wishes and jokes about graduating early with her Mrs. She was teased about her future as a greek, it was what was expected from a girl like her. She smiled and nodded and let people distract themselves with blonde hair and a full wallet.

The Texas debutante left her gated community for the bright lights of Los Santos.

A city whose glamour held her enraptured from the moment she saw it, the city school was the only one she bothered to apply to. Built on foundations of instant gratification and flowing with rivers of hedonistic desire. Fuck Vegas, this was the id of the nation. Even hiding at the border of the city, the university couldn’t keep the life blood of Los Santos from pumping in from its beating heart.

Lindsay heard its call like a siren song.

Even with the reputation like the one Los Santos had, it wasn’t hard to find people to go out with. Girls looking for a little danger, guys looking to prove something, and people just looking for something they couldn’t get at home. The clubs provided a bit of danger tourism for those who wanted it.

A chance to dance with someone who was more ink than bare flesh.

A chance to accept a ride from a stranger that might take you more than just home.

A chance to try something a little harder than weed.

Lindsay took each step in stride and made friends along the way.

And then she took a big step. Turns out it’s a lot easier to sell drugs when you’re pretty and white, who would have guessed.

Lindsay picked up small jobs from people at clubs, taking packages of drugs she knew, and even those she didn’t, to sell to people she went to school with. Delivering the goods that others couldn’t because no one expected her to be doing it in the first place. Her first step was just doing what she was told. She worked her way into the confidences of the right wrong people until she was trusted with enough merchandise to put a person away for a long time, if they got caught with it.

The thing about Lindsay was she was often underestimated. Nobody expected much from her just like they did not expect much from spring; somehow people always managed to forget that the worst storms could come between the mildest weather. Lindsay could be the calm and the storm.

Lindsay was good with numbers, she was better at business, but she was the best at working people over.

College students, it turned out, weren’t great with conversion rates once the metric system came out to play. College students with addictions to club drugs were even worse and cared even less. Lindsay figured out pretty quickly which kind of person you could stiff, and which kind would pay more than the shit she was selling was worth. No one was going to pull out a scale to check her on her word and with the right flowery words she could get just about anyone to drop an extra couple bucks per ounce.

She held onto the extra for herself. The extra money and the extra drugs.

While she built up her own stockpile and saved, she made friends with bigger badder wrong people. With the right stolen merchandise it suddenly became a lot easier to open certain doors for yourself. Especially when you had no gang loyalties to speak of.

Lindsay found ways to open doors she hadn’t been entirely sure even existed, all by showing off some leftover inventory with a half decent purity and throwing out a couple names -- and maybe by greasing a few palms along the way. Promises of loyal clients she knew she could bring with her and the self given title of freelancer got her new contacts and better stock, letting her ditch the deadweight she’d been working with and pull herself up the ladder.

All it took was a few meetings with a man whose watch said he was someone very important -- or that he was trying pretty desperately to be -- and she was started down a path she had never even seen before. He set her up with his usual supplier, said Lindsay could meet them in an alley in the near abandoned westside of Los Santos. It was a trial run, prove that she was more than just a mouth with some okay product and enough money to get attention, then they could talk about working together.

So she put up her hood and took that final step into the darkness.

Far from the safety of the field, Persephone was startled when a large chasm opened up in the ground beneath her and swallowed her whole. She was discovered by Hades who took her to his kingdom.

Los Santos had a way of always being cast in dramatic shadow, maybe it was the dark that brought out the criminal element or maybe it just had a way of casting its own shadow. Either way it made the voice coming from them less surprising than the person doing the talking.

“You lost, Little Red?”

“Why don’t we skip the talk and go straight to the part where you show me what big teeth you have.”

She came out of the shadows with a sharp smile, baring white teeth between dark, red lips. The woman emerged from the shadows around her, dressed in all black, she would have been petite if not for the six inch heels she had on. She approached Lindsay with the rhythmic click of stilettos sharpened to a point.

She made a show of looking over Lindsay, leaving a hot, slippery feeling as her gaze trailed over Lindsay’s body like blood dripping down from a cut you didn’t know you had.

"You've got some bite, I like that, makes things more fun."

Things were about to go bad. It could be argued that things were already there. Drug suppliers didn't slide from the shadows and they sure as hell didn't look like the woman standing in front of her; sleek and deadly with a knife at her hip.

"Well give me some time, I can be a whole lot of fun, dollface."

Lindsay knew knives.

It was a new hobby, one she'd picked up after a few of the college classes she actually bothered to attend. Every female student at Los Santos University was required to take a self defense class, and then there was the stage combat class some people thought was as big a waste of time as her acting major. So she knew how to deal with knives when they were coming at her, and she knew how to use a fake knife when it was in her hands. But when Lindsay picked up a hobby she didn't go halfway. Knives were a lot like people, useful in most situations but the sharp ones could cut you if you weren’t watching.

So she had a knife at her own hip. Not that it mattered, women who looked like the one in front of her, with a knife on her hip and in her smile, weren't the kind that went easy on beginners. This was a hit, seems Lindsay wasn't as good at making friends as she thought. But maybe she could fix this.

"Oh I'm sure you could,” the woman said, “pretty thing like you. Thing is other people don't seem to agree."

The knife was out, long and deadly, Lindsay took a small amount of comfort in the fact that at least it seemed like the hit was expensive. But it stayed in her hands, this was still a negotiation. Not that it mattered, Lindsay had the feeling she wouldn't get much warning before she learned it wasn't anymore.

"Well you don't seem like the type to care about what other people think." Lindsay said.

The woman sent to kill her laughed, that knife still in her hands. Maybe Lindsay would get lucky and her assassin was out for violence and lesson teaching rather than her literal head on a platter.

"I don't think you know me well enough to be jumping to that kind of conclusion. Do you, Little Red?"

"Maybe I could get to know you, you seem like the kind of person I'd like to know."

She looked back at Lindsay, it was hard to tell if she was impressed but that knife was in her hands and not on Lindsay's neck or between her ribs. That's the kind of thing a girl considered a win.

"Now that's a sweet thought, but here's the thing, I know you Little Red."

This could go one of two ways.

Lindsay had met a few people who had already known who she was. It could be good, when you were trying to make a name for yourself you wanted people to know your name. That was part of the deal, the bigger you became, the more you wanted your name whispered in the shadows. There was always that chance that she just knew about her work.

There was also that chance that she had been watching Lindsay, and Lindsay wasn't sure if that was something she wanted. No, that wasn’t true. Normally, learning a girl with the kind of looks that could start a gang war had been watching her was the sort of thing she would love. But then normally she wasn’t worried about picking a new accessory from between her fourth and fifth ribs.

“Well now I’m just embarrassed,” Lindsay said, “cause I don’t think I can say the same, doll.”

She took a step closer and gave the blade in her hand a little twirl between her fingers. Lindsay wondered if she could manage to disarm her would be murderer if she would just end up getting stabbed with a stiletto for her trouble.

Another step closer, off to the side she was trying to flank Lindsay, so Lindsay turned too.

“You’ve been making waves, Red, and being the professional I am, I’ve been watching you. Turns out you don’t have as many friends as you thought you did.”

“At least tell me you like what you’ve seen.”

A smirk, she was pacing circles around Lindsay now, like a predator circling her prey, and Lindsay had given up spinning around to keep pace.

“Well now you’re just fishing for compliments, but I’ll admit I’ve always enjoyed a bit of competence. You’ve done a pretty good job climbing your way up the ladder. Not as many rookie mistakes as I usually see.”

“I’m flattered,” Lindsay said, sincerely, “if I’d realized someone was watching I would have put on more of a show.”

Another slow trail of her eyes up and down Lindsay’s body.

“That would be something cause, Lindsay Tug.gey, you’ve been a bad girl.” Lindsay felt a dark thrill run down her spine to settle somewhere low in the pit of her stomach at the use of her real name; knowing that this woman who had clearly been sent to kill her had just been playing coy this whole time added a new twist to their banter. “Stealing from the Ballas to climb up the Triad ladder,” she tsked, “that’s not how things are done around here.”

“Now I’m just embarrassed,” Lindsay said, “you know my name and all about me but I can’t say the same.”

“Oh I don’t think that’s true, an up-and-comer like you, I’m sure you’ve heard whispers. I don’t follow just anybody.”

“My momma raised me better than to assume,” Lindsay said. It wasn’t any safer than admitting she didn’t have a clue who she was dealing with, but it had a lot more Southern charm, almost made her seem like she was being coy too.

“You really are cute, and you’ve shown some potential,” she said giving her knife another twirl, “the politics of this really is such a shame.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Lindsay said, trying to think fast.

Another spin, the handle hitting her palm with a dull slap. “Is that so?” she sounded curious, but Lindsay had no way of knowing if it was sincere.

“Join up with me.”

That earned Lindsay another sharp toothed smile, “And why would I do that?”

Lindsay shrugged. “You either will or you won’t,” Lindsay said taking a chance. “You said it yourself, you’ve been watching me. You know what I’m capable of, you’ve seen what I’ve done already, I’m sure you can imagine what we could do together.”

“I’ve been offered quite a bit of money to take care of you,” she said, conversationally.

Lindsay did her best to keep a pokerface, tried not to imagine the feeling of a sharp blade sinking into the space between her throat and collarbone. “You could take that easy payout now, or you could help me put a little work in and we could make so much more.”

She must have expected things to go this way, or maybe Lindsay’s reputation was more impressive than she’d thought it was, because it wasn’t long before the knife went away and a hand was extended. “Meg Tu.rney, pleasure.”

When Demeter learned her beloved daughter had been taken by Hades, she demanded that Zeus secure her freedom else she doom the Earth to an eternal winter.

Uncomfortable, isolated, starving.

All told Lindsay’s first experience in the Los Santos police department wasn’t shaping out to be that positive. At least she was in an interrogation room now instead of the holding cell they’d shoved her in a few hours ago.

Things were not going her way.

Lindsay and Meg were on their way to being the Los Santos power couple. Lindsay got her revenge on the Ballas and the Triad for setting her up, taking their customers, their dealers, and turning half of their suppliers against them. She was growing and expanding and really starting to enjoy being the kingpin of a crew of her own.

Problem was kingpins attracted attention.

Attention from rival gangs and from police officers looking to “clean up the streets”.

There was a reason that kingpins didn’t do grunt work. And that’s because when you were putting drugs on the streets and getting rid of the people who were in your way, it got people looking for you.

But Lindsay liked to keep things hands on, do a couple deliveries herself to help stave off the boredom -- cause what they don’t tell you about running a criminal empire is that it’s a lot like running any other business, a lot of work. So every now and then, between taking care of with low level dealers who weren’t pulling their weight and charming foreign friends who help smuggle in new product, Lindsay would treat herself to a trip out.

Which is why she got pulled over for rolling a stop sign with enough merch to get her back seat to get her a minimum of ten years. Possession with intent to distribute, plus her traffic violation. There goes her spotless record.

It was a rookie cop who pulled her over, fresh faced and honest, looking to meet their ticket quota for the month. The drugs were really just an unfortunate bonus for him.

The problem with fresh faced rookies is that they still had hope in the system, it made them resistant to corrupting influences and it meant they always really wanted to take you in.

“Listen, Officer Dem.arais, this is really just a big misunderstanding.” Lindsay insisted, for the second time wearing her best just been reprimanded expression, “I’m sorry about rolling that stop and I understand if you have to write me a ticket, but this other stuff , I promise it’s not mine.”

“That may be the case, Miss, but I can’t just let you leave with all that in your back seat, I’m afraid I’m gonna have to take you in.”

Lindsay could feel her irritation rising, this was supposed to be a quick drop and now she was trying to convince herself that shooting a beat cop wasn’t worth the clean up.

She took a breath and put on her best pleading smile, “Can’t you cut me a break, just this once, I know it’s wrong and everything and I’m super sorry, but my sorority sisters asked me to pick up their stuff.” She put on her best puppy dog eyes and went for broke, “If you take me in I’ll lose my scholarship.”

“Miss, do you know how much you’re carrying with you right now,” Dem.arais said.

“It’s a big sorority.”

“I can’t just let you go, I could lose my job.”

Lindsay was ready to scream, and questioning that decision she had made not to just shoot this guy when he first started asking questions.

“Couldn’t you just take what’s in my car and let me go? My sisters, they’ll vouch for me if you ask them.”

“If they’ll vouch for you then they’ll still do it when you’re at the station, I can’t just let you go. Get out of the car.”

Now she was handcuffed to a table.

She should have just shot him.

Her one call went to Meg instead of a lawyer. A lawyer would have been admitting some kind of guilt, and her dark doll could get a little trigger happy when she was trying to get things. A phone call would at least get her a few hours before Meg tried to stage a jailbreak, if she was smart, things would all be blown over by then.

The door opened. “Miss Tug.gey, you’ve made quite a splash in your short time here.”

“Like I told your officer, Detective,” Lindsay started to say.

“Captain.”

“Captain,” Lindsay repeated, fighting between instincts to preen at the thought that she warranted someone so high up the chain and distrust at why someone who looked like a run-of-the-mill drug dealer who got caught at a traffic stop would get this sort of attention.

“And I know what you told my officer, Miss Tug.gey, the problem is that it's total bullshit.”

“I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, Captain Burns,” Lindsay said, keeping up her mask of annoyed yet charming rich kid and dropping his name because she could.

“Your ‘sisters’ have never heard of you, and no one on campus has seen you in over four months. I hate to tell you but I think you've already lost that scholarship.”

“There are classes online, haven’t you heard the city can be a dangerous place. My mother worries.”

“I’m so glad you mentioned your mother,” Burns said, such a smug bastard that Lindsay almost wondered if he was on the take, “we can get right to the point of why we’re here.”

This was one of those times where staying silent was the smartest thing to do. She tried to remember if anyone had actually read her her rights.

“See when you bring a rich brat in for any sort of questioning, it grabs people’s attention. When that brat happens to be a Tug.gey that gets the district attorney’s attention. Do you know why that gets the DA’s attention, Miss Tug.gey.”

“Because innocent white girls getting wrongly imprisoned attracts the wrong kind of attention.”

“ Because her parents are funding his campaign for mayor and they aren’t pleased that their baby girl is in handcuffs.”

“That was my next guess,” Lindsay said.

“Now personally,” Burns said, leaning across the interrogation room table, “I have no problem leaving an entitled smartass to sit and stew. But what’s bad for the goose is really fucking shit for the gander, and Mommy and Daddy have threatened to pull their donations unless some charges are dropped.

“So here’s the deal,” he continued, “we have a reliable informant who’s told us that Ruby R.ose is actually a ‘sexy little thing, a blonde bombshell, looks like she comes from money,’ their words of course. Now who does that sound like?”

Danger had become no stranger to Lindsay, she had become one of those things that goes bump in the night and that came with a certain amount of peril. She was the kind of person who came to the most dangerous city in the US because it seemed like an adventure. She’d taken control of the city’s drug trade because she got bored. Hell, she had seduced the woman who’d been hired to kill her because she had a weakness for a girl with a deadly smile. Danger was just part of the deal. This though, this was the first time in months that Lindsay had felt scared.

“I could think of a couple people that sounds like,” Lindsay said.

But Lindsay thrived in the danger, in the dark where all of these vicious deeds were done. She may have stumbled into her role here, but that didn’t make the part any less hers.

“But,” she continued, “if the first thing you’re gonna throw out is a vague description from a snitch, I don’t think you’ve got much to go on.”

He laughed, “How’s this for evidence, our very reliable informant told us that Ruby R.ose and her deadly little right hand are a bit of an item.

“Now you and I both know how this works, the justice system is more about money and politics and less about justice, so why don’t we just cut to it. Your parents want you out and we’re pretty sure you’ve got something that can make letting you go worth our while. Give us a way to bring in your pretty little Dollface and we’ll forget all about the white stuff we found in your backseat.”

Lindsay thought she was afraid before, the thought that they had something on Meg sent a bolt of terror down her spine.

“I think I’d like to speak to my lawyer now.”

After watching the people starve, Zeus agreed to see that Hades set Persephone free. Hades agreed that she could be freed, if only that she did not eat anything during her time in the Underworld.

Lindsay spent three nights in a holding cell after she refused to talk to Burns.

Cold, isolated, annoyed.

She thought she had another two days before a certain someone burnt the place down around her.

The boys who pulled her out of her cell weren’t gentle about it, Lindsay figured that meant they were done waiting for her lawyer to make an appearance. She was shoved into a room with a very frazzled looking Captain already sitting at the table.

“I’m done playing games, Tug.gey,” he said slamming a hand down on the table in front of her, “tell us what we want to know.”

“Hullum get all his support pulled?” Lindsay asked conversationally, “Pity, I heard he was gonna turn this city around.”

“You have to be getting awfully lonely in that cell we’re holding you in, I’ve heard you rich girls need quite a bit of stimulation . Just give us what we want and you can go home.”

“I wish I could Captain Burns but I really don’t have anything to give.”

“We know about your girlfriend, Tug.gey, we’ve got footage of the two of you together.”

“Last I checked being queer wasn’t a crime here yet,” Lindsay spat.

“Listen kid, this doll of yours is a killer. She’s bloodthirsty, with a body count that was astro-fucking-nomical long before Ruby R.ose came into the pictures. What are you getting out of protecting her?”

“I- I don’t know,” Lindsay stuttered.

“She doesn’t love you,” Burns said, “you’re just another pawn to play with until you stop being useful, and do you know what happens once you stop being useful?”

Lindsay took a shuddery breath, “I think I can guess.”

The thing about darkness was it suck up on you. It fell slowly, gradually getting darker and darker until you were left alone in the inky blackness. When dusk settled in around you like a heavy blanket, that was your turning point. You could go inside where the light was or you could let the darkness cover you even further.

“Just give us something and we’ll make sure you get back home to your parents.”

Lindsay started to cry, a single shuddery sob breaking free, “She can’t know, she can’t know it was me. She’ll kill me, I just know she will, she almost has before.”

Burns looked almost gleeful. “Just give us enough to catch her, we’ll keep your name far from it, but once we’ve got her we’ll be sure to keep her locked up for a long time.”

Lindsay sniffled, “Okay, okay. She’s got a supplier that she should be meeting late Friday night, I mean late like 3am. He’s got this new drug he’s pushing, a club drug that people on the street are calling Pixie Dust.”

“Where can I find her?” Burns prompted.

“You promise this isn’t going to come back to me,” Lindsay asked. “And that there’ll be no charges brought against me.”

“I’ve got a signed agreement from District Attorney Hullum right here that says just that.”

Lindsay nodded, “She’s meeting him at Star that night club at the right end of 2nd street.”

Burns scribbled down everything she told him and passed it off to someone just outside the interview room door. “You did good, kid, you made the right call.”

“I’m sorry I let it get this far,” Lindsay said.

“Let’s just get you home, okay?”

Starving, on her way out of the Underworld Persephone stole four seeds from a pomegranate and ate them. Doomed by her indulgence, Persephone was cursed to return to her captor.

Freedom was a bright light at the end of a dark road. What the light was might change, but it was always brighter than whatever you were leaving behind.

Lindsay’s bright light was the small square of the outside world she could see through the windows in the door. She had a pair of handcuffs tight around her wrists as she was being led toward that freedom down the hallway of the police station, dim with its flickering fluorescents. Her release only restricted by the hand on her shoulder controlling how fast she could walk.

It had been made clear that the only reason she was being released before they had Meg in custody was politics. The only way Hullum was getting his campaign money was if Lindsay was released free and clear. Which meant Lindsay got a pass.

One step and then another. The distance between her and the first bit of fresh air she’d gotten in days getting that much smaller. With Captain Burns looming over her shoulder, reminding her that she was doing the right thing by rolling on Meg, all the way to the door.

He had one hand on the door and the other at his belt for the key to the cuffs around her wrists. Until the crackle of a police walkie broke the silence. There was a pause, before a tinny voice said, “Uh, Cap?”

The hand left the door.

It moved to the walkie attached to his lapel, “What Luna?”

“We went to that address you told us to check out, and there’s no club here. It’s just some bookstore.”

“Are you sure it’s not a front?”

“Nah boss, don’t think so. Talked to the owner, some old dude, and he says Neverland Books has been here for decades. We checked out the back looks like the only thing comin’ in and out is first editions.”

“Apologize and thank him for his time Luna, then get back here,” Burns said. His hand left his belt and moved to the chain that was connecting her two wrists. He gave it a yank that forced her to turn and face him. “Neverland Books?”

She smirked at him, “Guess you’ll never never get your hands on Dollface like you wanted.”

“Listen here you punk, I’m not playing games.”

“Neither am I, Captain, and I’m done talking to you. Guess you should take me back to my cell.”

A deal was struck between the gods, and Persephone was allowed to return to her mother.

Lindsay spent two months in jail before she got her hearing.

Turns out when you’ve been disinherited and have no money to speak of, that’s what counts as a speedy trial. So she stayed busy. She had her woman on the outside and since Meg had no record to speak of it was no problem getting her in to visit so they could keep the business running.

Lindsay might be locked away, but Ruby R.ose was still out running the streets. It had taken her too long to make herself a place at the throne of the Los Santos underworld, and Lindsay wasn’t going to let something like an impending trial let it slip through her fingers.

As her right hand, the queen of Lindsay’s empire, Meg kept things running smoothly. Ruby R.ose’s Dark Doll was the one people were scared of anyway, the name whispered in nervous voices, she was the only one who could keep the people from getting suspicious. It took a firm hand to keep the mutineers at bay. It took having a woman on the outside to make sure that there was a way to get out.

Lindsay Tug.gey didn’t have any money, cut off from her family’s wealth. Ruby R.ose and Meg Tu.rney both had substantial sums to their names.

It was like Captain Burns said, money made the justice system go round.

Which was why when two months had past, and Lindsay finally got her trial, that wheel had been greased enough that she could slip right out without a problem. She got away with time served, and all it cost was her time and a couple grand in a few retirement funds. The going rate for corruption was pretty cheap in Los Santos.

Lindsay had managed a pretty good trick, turning 10 years into 2 months. Now for her next trick she was going to reintegrate herself back into high society with the help of her lovely assistant. Friends in high places were always good to have, family in high places were even better.

Lindsay’s family was even easier to manipulate than the judge that let her off was.

Three phone calls and a promise that that phase in her life was over and done with, and she was welcomed back into the fold. It helped that rehabilitation and reunited families were press better than money could buy. Having Meg on her arm added a little something extra to the narrative, the connections that the Tu.rneys had made it easy to overlook any ambiguities that Lindsay and Meg might have still been attached to.

Lindsay had picked up a few new tricks and a few new friends in her time behind bars, she knew when it was best to just smile and agree.

As far as most people were concerned, you were what they called you.

Persephone spends most of the year with her beloved mother, but every year she must go back to Hades and serve her four months beside him on the throne.

Campaign season in Los Santos was nothing more than a well dressed war, and fundraising galas were the bloodiest battlefield.

It was a battle between the forces of light and dark, where the right candidate in the right position could tip the scales in favor of your side; and it served the dual purpose of giving the real players a chance to show off their money. When the season was in full swing, there could be two or three events every week, which meant you had to throw around a lot to really make an impression.

Tonight’s event was to get one Geoff Ra.msey elected to a seat on the city counsel; but it was for Lindsay Tug.gey.

This was her first gala event since being welcomed back into the good graces of high society. One that let her rub elbows with the kind of elites she wanted to. They might all have money, but the people who were endorsing Geoff were the kind who had gotten their money the same way she had, through less than reputable sources.

This gala was about Geoff, but it was clear that the real stars were the two women holding court in the corner.

Lindsay a vision as always in blush, a designer gown that was literally made for her with a skirt that blossomed like a flower around her, with Meg on her arm in a black dress that clung to the top half of her body before melting off of her and joining the rest of the shadow she was cloaked in. They had their hangers on thirsting for every word that left their lips, they were royalty leaving scraps for their lessers to pick up.

They were cons, stacking a deck only they could see so that things kept rolling in their favor.

Geoff Ra.msey was their dark horse. A man so crooked some were surprised he even knew there was a local government outside the mob, but who was good enough at what he did that he’d keep doing it til the booze or the feds caught up with him.

But he’d get elected.

Because when you have divine intervention on your side you have no choice but to go where you are led, and pawns are put on the field so that they can protect their queen.

That was how politics worked in Los Santos, and with each season a new kind of change was brought by those who were running the show.

And Lindsay was bringing Spring.

#ragehappy #ffragehappy #rage happy #megsay #turntugg #my fic #lindsay #meg

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