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chemicalmagecraft · 3 years

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Taiyuu OCT Round 5

Character Nicknames: Nii-chan: Takeda Ryuji Gong'gong: Wang Ju'jiao (Yukino and Ryuji's grandfather) Mushu-chan: Firecracker Yuu-chan: Mochizuki Tofu Freezerburn: Todoroki Shoto (not really a nickname, but I made up a hero alias for him since I feel like he wouldn't still be using Shoto like 10 years later)

x x x

Yukino sighed when they arrived at the island, though she loosened up a bit when Nii-chan put a hand on her shoulder. She took a deep breath as Nii-chan and Gong'gong secured the boat they'd borrowed so they didn't have to take the train. When they were done, Gong'gong got off and offered Yukino a hand. There wasn't a dock (Taiyuu couldn't afford one, to the surprise of absolutely nobody except maybe Laccadaisy), so they'd had to find a spot to park the boat where they'd be able to put Yukino's stuff in it without too much trouble, though it was still a little cumbersome for Yukino to get off...

Nii-chan hopped off once Gong'gong helped Yukino off the boat. "You okay, Yuki-chan?" he asked.

Yukino nodded. "Yeah. Let's just get this over with." She squeezed Gong'gong's hand, which she had yet to let go of.

Gong'gong squeezed it lightly back. "They won't hurt you anymore," he growled.

Yukino nodded, then they headed for the main building. It looked even worse than when Yukino had left. They were probably not bothering with keeping up appearances anymore. Nii-chan and Gong'gong walked on either side of Yukino, flanking her like a pair of dragon-themed bodyguards. They were both in their hero outfits, too. Nii-chan was keeping his breathing calm, but Yukino could taste the heat of his Quirk in the air. Buckskin, the vice principal, met them outside the building.

"Ah, h-hello, you must be Nidhogg and Da'long," Buckskin said, shaking a bit from Gong'gong's glare at first. Between his Dragonborn Quirk making him look like a literal dragon and how it tended to agitate animals and people whose Quirks gave them animal instincts (especially when he was angry), Yukino would've been at least a little sorry for the guy if, y'know, she didn't think he deserved it. The guy had made it perfectly clear that he was the one responsible for keeping Laccadaisy's disaster of a school ‘running.’

"You're aware what we're here for, yes?" Nii-chan asked coldly, stepping forward.

Buckskin nodded and produced a folder. "All of Takeda-chan's Quirk information and paperwork is in this file. Ryujin might have made some notes about her Quirk as well, though."

"Then we'll have to talk to her later," Nii-chan said. "Now, is everything else taken care of?"

Buckskin nodded. "After today you shouldn't have to interact with Taiyuu at all if you don't want to. Though I'm sure any of the staff would be willing to write a letter of recommendation to whichever school you apply to."

"Too little, too late," Gong'gong scoffed. "You shouldn't've tried to make a school you couldn't run."

Buckskin cleared his throat. "It wasn't a problem when we originally started this school. We had to close due to issues that occurred later on in the year."

"I'll take your word for it," Gong'gong growled dismissively. "I think we'll head to the dorms now."

They turned back around, to where Yukino pointed the dorms out to be. Though Gong'gong glared back at Buckskin until he went back into the main building.

x x x

Although she knew that they'd have to talk to her eventually, Yukino really didn't want to see Ryujin at the moment... As such, she started to entertain, if only for a moment, the idea that Taiyuu was cursed when they ran into Ryujin in the entrance hall of the dorms. The woman winced and started to turn around when she saw them. Yukino wouldn't have stopped her, but...

"Are you Ryujin, then?" Gong'gong growled.

The woman jumped and turned back around. She looked really tired, just a little livelier than a zombie honestly. Mushu-chan was wrapped around her neck like a boa... constrictor, which he was currently about the size of. "Yeah," she said.

"You made my granddaughter cry," Gong'gong stated, walking towards her a bit. An edge of grandfatherly disapproval had crept into his voice.

Ryujin nodded. "It wasn't my intent, but I suppose I did..." She sounded a little resigned.

Gong'gong glared at her expectantly.

"Is there anything else you need of me?" the woman asked.

Gong'gong growled, a malevolent aura starting to build around him. "You defended the girl that made my granddaughter feel unsafe in this school, when it should've been your duty to make sure she never felt unsafe to begin with. Then you dismissed her feelings on the matter when she brought it up to you. I don't care what your 'intentions' were, you made my granddaughter cry. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Ryujin sighed. "I didn't understand her feelings," she said. "I didn't understand her feelings and hurt her because of that." She fiddled with Mushu-chan's tail. Mushu-chan looked like he was starting to get a bit agitated, probably from how nervous Ryujin was getting. "I regret that," Ryujin admitted. "I regret a lot of things about this place..."

Gong'gong looked like he was about to either sigh or roar Ryujin's head off. "Is there anything you'd like to say to my A'hua, then?"

"There is nothing left for me to say that would not simply be wasting her time," Ryujin said.

Gong'gong stepped forward, looming well over Ryujin due to his size. "I don't know if you're a complete asshole or just that fucking dense, but either way it does not improve my opinion of you or the blockhead who hired you." His voice had started to gain more of a deep, dragony growl than it normally did.

Yukino glanced at Nii-chan, who was looking at Gong'gong with a bit of concern. Normally Gong'gong was a lot better about keeping a handle on his temper, but Nii-chan and Yukino both knew from firsthand experience that he tended to be a bit more touchy about people hurting his family. Yukino wasn't too concerned about Ryujin getting hurt if she kept on like that, but, well... Gong'gong was doing decently well on the hero rankings but there were still a lot of people who, unfortunately, thought of him as monstrous and/or villainous due to his Quirk and the appearance it gave him and would gleefully jump on an incident like him mauling a fellow pro hero, regardless of the circumstances...

Ryujin flinched at the draconic grandfatherly rage looming over her. Still, she forged on digging herself deeper. "I'm not a big fan of Laccadaisy either, at this point," she said despite the fact that that was clearly more a dig at herself than at Laccadaisy. "Do you want me to waste your granddaughter's time with an apology that badly?"

"Waste. Her. Time?" Gong'gong snarled.

She sighed, looking resigned. "...It seems we have differing opinions on apologies. I am sorry that I hurt her, but what will an apology do about that? It's too late to change that now."

Gong'gong growled again, accidentally breathing hot smoke into Ryujin's face. It was probably an accident, anyway... "So you're an asshole, then. You can say apologies are useless all you want when people are trying to apologize to you, but when you're the one who hurt a young girl's feelings? You don't get to fucking decide that. I hope helping the girl was worth it, kid."

Ryujin looked away, though Yukino felt like it was more due to the hot smoke in her eyes than any actual guilt, which Yukino was starting to doubt she was capable of experiencing. "If you want an apology, I'll give one."

Gong'gong bared his fangs at her. "At this point I doubt it'd be all that sincere."

Ryujin started rubbing her eyes. "I've already said that I'm sorry that I hurt her. Did you think I would waste my time lying about that?"

Gong'gong's face contorted in rage, hot air and smoke pouring from his opening mouth. Before he could do anything stupid, though, Nii-chan stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder. He somehow managed to look dignified even though he had to stand on his tiptoes to reach. Nii-chan cleared his throat as Gong'gong grumbled and backed off. "What my grandfather is trying to say is that he finds the attitude you've demonstrated regarding apologizing for your mistakes… rather disturbing, especially given how he believes you owe Yuki-chan an apology. I know it's not our place to judge you, but I can't help but agree with him. You can't change the past, yeah, but you can make up for your mistakes. And that starts with a sincere, heartfelt apology. Please try to remember that for the future, yeah?" He gave her a diplomatic smile.

Ryuji clenched her fists. Mushu-chan started to yell something, but she quickly calmed him down. "No, it's absolutely your place to judge me," she said. "I've hurt someone important to you, and I owe her much more than just an apology. If what you wanted was reparations, I had already planned to offer that to her." She still didn't apologize, instead taking a note from out of her pocket. It looked like it had a little bit of... something slimy on it. Ew. She offered it to Yukino.

Yukino frowned and crinkled her nose as she carefully took the note. At least make sure it's clean, lady! It was addressed to her, with 'Should you wish to hear from me' written on it. Like Yukino would ever want to see this self-centered woman ever again. "Maybe later..." she grumbled, starting to get more annoyed with this lady.

Ryujin then opened her briefcase and started looking around for something. "Since I'm speaking to you, I have another thing for you..."

"Uh, about that," Mushu-chan said when Ryujin started to get annoyed searching for whatever it was she was searching for. "In my defense I didn't think it was important."

Ryujin glared at the red dragon. "Are you serious." she asked flatly.

"It looked tasty!" Mushu-chan pouted in his 'defense.'

"Everything looks tasty to you, Firecracker," Ryujin told Mushu-chan. "We've been over this."

Yukino growled. Did he eat something of hers? No wonder this woman covered for Zuruko so much, does she really even bother to control her 'Quirk effects?' Like sure they're living things, but they can clearly be reasoned with enough that they should be able to understand such complex orders like 'don't eat other people's stuff.'

Ryujin sighed, rubbing her brow. "I'll have to rewrite the letter, then... Do you have an email I can send it to?"

Nii-chan quickly pulled out a business card (seriously what kind of pro hero has a pouch for business cards) and scorched out his phone number with a swipe of his finger. He held it out to her. "My business mail," he said. "I can give it to Yuki-chan... if I think she should see it."

Ryujin blinked. "It's... a letter of recommendation." She took the burnt business card. "Unless someone decides my mouse looks tasty again, I should have it to you within the week."

"Oh, those are good..." Mushu-chan muttered.

"No, Firecracker," Ryujin said.

Nii-chan cleared his throat. "Well, thank you, then."

Yukino hesitated, but managed to mutter out a small "Thanks."

"I hope the future is better to you than I was," Ryujin told her.

Yukino looked away. "Mhm," she muttered, pushing down the urge to make a snide comment. Then she heard a noise that would've really startled her if she didn't know that it was what a dragon clearing their throat sounded like.

"Oh, sorry, and one more thing that I think we want to address..." Nii-chan said at Gong'gong's prompting.

"Yes?" Ryujin asked.

"I understand Yuki-chan might not have had all the facts about the 'quirk effect' thing, but… Whatever you meant by that language, if it was an inside joke or something… it made Yuki-chan uncomfortable, and I'm sure she wasn't the only one," Nii-chan said. "In the future, it might be wise to not say things like that in front of people who might take it the wrong way, especially if you continue teaching."

Gong'gong, the man who was often called a monster or a dumb animal for almost a century due to how his Quirk made him look, nodded sternly.

Ryujin winced. "Ah. That. I was trying for neutral language... It doesn't matter, I won't be teaching again." She stroked Mushu-chan again. "It's Laccadaisy's fault we're here at all! Stupid debt thing..."

Yukino scoffed. Yet again, she was trying to bring Laccadaisy into this...

"Trust me when I say that being called a 'thing' can hurt, kid," Gong'gong growled. "And we aren't arguing with you there, but this is about you, not Laccadaisy."

She frowned, keeping silent. "It can," she agreed softly. "I'll... avoid saying that in the future."

"Thank you for your understanding," Nii-chan said, giving her a small smile that Yukino didn't think she deserved. "I think we should go pack up now. By the way, Yuki-chan wants the notes you made of her Quirk. The original copies."

Ryujin nodded. "I suppose that's fair. They're on my computer, but I can send the notes to you and then delete them."

"Thank you." Nii-chan gave her a polite, but slightly forced, smile. "We'll be leaving now."

"Goodbye," Ryujin said, quickly walking away from the three.

Yukino started guiding her brother and grandfather to her dorm room. "Wait, I just noticed," Yukino said when they were almost there, definitely out of Ryujin's earshot. "Did she ever actually apologize? Or just say that she should, then change the subject?"

Gong'gong grumbled. "Not to my memory."

Nii-chan gave a sigh. "Okay maybe she was just tired, but that woman is a PR nightmare waiting to happen with an attitude like that..."

"Isn't this whole thing a PR nightmare for the heroes involved?" Yukino asked.

Nii-chan shrugged. "Definitely for Laccadaisy, but the non-administrative staff can probably get off a little easier if they can say they didn't know about any of the debt stuff. Though by your account there were other issues that they brushed aside, so they might get called out on that. If they keep their heads down, though, they might just make it out without too much trouble."

Yukino nodded, but bit her lip. "Is... Is it bad that I kinda want them to get in trouble?"

Gong'gong shrugged. "You got hurt by this mess. They say heroes have to be selfless and want to save everyone, but I think there's nothing wrong with wanting to see someone who hurt you or yours fucked over, as long as you're still willing to save them from a villain or something."

"Yeah, a little schadenfreude doesn't make you a bad person or a bad hero," Nii-chan reassured her, ruffling her hair.

They finally reached her dorm room. "We're here," Yukino said. The door was open, and she could see Yuu-chan with two men in suits. Bodyguards, maybe? One had cat ears and the other had dog ears, and Yukino saw some flashes of scars and tattoos mostly hidden by their suits. Yukino knocked on the doorframe and waved at Yuu-chan as she entered. It looked like he was packing up, too. "Hey, Yuu-chan," she said.

Yuu-chan looked up at her. "Oh, hello, Takeda-chan," he said, looking a little nervous. She couldn't see his face under his mask, but Yukino got the feeling he was trying to smile and put on a brave face. She couldn't blame him if he was nervous, though...

Nii-chan tried to get closer to Yuu-chan, but the bodyguards silently stepped forward in a clear sign of "we're gonna have problems if you get any closer." In response, Nii-chan put his hands up and stopped moving. "You okay, kid?" he asked, ever the hero.

Yuu-chan quietly nodded. "I am, thank you. And I'm sorry about them, they're just here to protect me. Please back down, you two."

The bodyguards nodded and backed off. They still looked a little wary, though. They especially seemed to raise their guards when Gong'gong entered the room, though Yukino couldn't blame them for that. Yukino could still feel a bit of anger coming from Gong'gong, so if those two had some animal instincts like their ears might suggest then they were probably feeling it as well. Gong'gong sighed, but attempted to make himself seem less threatening to the guards.

"It's cool," Nii-chan told Yuu-chan. "We're kinda here for the same reason, just for Yuki-chan. We're gonna pack her stuff up real quick, though would you prefer if we waited until you were done?"

Yuu-chan shook his head. "No, that's fine."

"Thanks, kid," Nii-chan smiled at him.

They got to work packing up Yukino's stuff as Yuu-chan and his guards finished up packing his. Yukino offered to keep in touch with him as they left, but he seemed ambivalent at best... Yukino and her family got all her stuff packed up and left soon after. They'd made sure to bring enough boxes and a big enough boat that they could get everything in one trip to the island. They didn't really run into anyone on the way back to the boat, which Yukino was fine with. There were a few people she might've liked to see again, but she also wanted to leave the island and never return.

x x x

Yukino held the note from Ryujin, still considering if she should open it or just give it to Mom, who would gladly incinerate it for her. As promised, Ryujin had sent Nii-chan an email with a letter of recommendation and her notes on Yukino after a few days. She'd also asked how Yukino was doing while she was at it. Nii-chan had assured Yukino that he'd only tell her what Yukino wanted him to tell her, even if that was cussing her out or something. The offer was tempting...

Ryujin's letter of recommendation seemed pretty good, though she lost points for the Quirk notes. Really she could've just asked Yukino; the notes she'd put in from observation and speculation both were stuff Yukino had already figured out. Sure, Yukino had a lot more time to figure it out than her, but why was this the first time Yukino was seeing these notes? Though then again this was the same woman who apparently took several months to figure out one of her students' Quirks could be turned off, so what was Yukino expecting?

So really Yukino didn't know if there was anything of actual worth in this letter. Plus, she'd had to wash her hoodie twice to get that gross slime out of the pocket. She hoped it was just dragon spit... After some deliberation she carefully opened the letter (it still smelled, ew) so she could read its contents.

-Takeda

I know this may seem insincere, but I do hope you offer me an opportunity to repay you for the hurt I've caused you. If you ever need anything I can offer I will do it for you, no questions asked. I always pay my debts.

And then it listed her contact information.

Yukino growled and crumpled it up, accidentally frosting it a little. "Gun," she grumbled. "You'd do anything I want, but can't even manage a simple apology?" She stood up, walking to the door. Then she sighed and turned around, walking back to her desk. As tempting as it was to give it to Mom and watch her set it on fire with her Quirk, Yukino hid it away in one of the drawers of her desk instead. Maybe she'd write the contact information down later, but for now she didn't want to look at the note anymore. As much as she doubted it'd actually be worth much, it was probably wise to at least have the option to cash that favor in...

x x x

They were mostly silent during the drive to UA. Yukino was a little nervous, and Nii-chan probably didn't want to add to it. Yukino took a deep breath when Nii-chan stopped his car in the visitor parking lot, then opened the door and got out. Nii-chan got out and put a hand on Yukino's shoulder. "Hey, you okay?" he asked.

Yukino nodded. "Just a little nervous. And... feeling a little stupid..."

He sighed. "It's... not your fault that it turned out like that."

Yukino nodded. "Yeah, I know..."

He smiled and held a hand out to her. "Want some fire before you go?" he asked, making a small flame.

"Thanks," Yukino said, then started sucking up the flame. "Let's go," she said when she had her fill. They walked to the front entrance together, where two people were waiting for them. She gasped. Sure, she'd been expecting pro heroes, since like a lot of hero schools UA tended to have pros as teachers, and she knew they were teachers, but she couldn't believe that two of her favorite heroes were going to be supervising her exam! She felt an involuntary shudder of excitement as she looked at the heroes. She was going to meet Freezerburn and Froppy!

And then Yukino looked down with a blush, suddenly very conscious that the hoodie she was currently wearing was themed after Froppy's hero outfit.

The frog hero herself chuckled. "I can see I have a fan, huh?" It looked like she was wearing her winter outfit, despite the weather not starting to get cold yet.

Yukino's face heated up a bit more. "Ah, sorry, I... swear I didn't plan that!" she shouted, waving her arms.

Nii-chan joined in on the chuckling, then put a hand on Yukino's shoulder. He leaned in close to her. "This is as far as I can go, sorry. I believe in you, though. Knock 'em cold."

Yukino smiled, warmed by his words of encouragement... and the last-minute superheated breath he spoke them with. "Thanks, Nii-chan. I'll do my best," she said as he walked back to his car. Yukino turned back to the people who would, hopefully, be her teachers in a few weeks. "Right, so what now?"

"First, you will have to take a written exam." Freezerburn said, his tone as cool as Yukino ever heard the few times she actually heard his voice in interviews and the like.

Yukino nodded. "Sounds about right. And I'm guessing you're doing it first instead of after the practical exam so I'm not tired?"

"That's right," Froppy confirmed. "Plus there are some people with Quirk drawbacks that can involve mental strain or lowered concentration after overuse. No sense putting them at an unfair disadvantage."

"You will need to learn to mitigate or deal with the drawbacks of your Quirk, of course," Freezerburn added, "but we aren't going to test you on it. Now, follow us to the exam hall."

Yukino grinned and followed the two heroes into the building. It looked like, since it was the weekend, there weren't many people walking about the halls aside from them. "For the record," Yukino said as they walked, "I'm kind of a fan of the both of you."

"I don't hold it against anyone if they're not my fans," Freezerburn assured her bluntly. Then the corner of his mouth crept up in a small smile. "Though I do appreciate it."

x x x

The written test was easy since Yukino knew most of the material already. She still did have trouble with some parts, but she'd studied beforehand and it paid off. After she finished, her proctors took her to one of UA's training grounds, the false city. Yukino marveled at the training ground, which felt like it could be an actual city, if an empty one. If Yukino were randomly teleported there she would've wondered why there was nobody in the city, not what she was doing in a weird dirt city. Sure, it didn't look like the buildings had much furniture in them, but she could still see them as actual buildings. Not to mention the roads and sidewalks had signs and things like that that made it look more realistic!

"Something wrong, Takeda-chan?" Froppy asked. She was holding a clipboard that she'd gotten while Yukino was taking the test, probably to take notes on her performance.

"Oh, nothing," Yukino said, smiling a bit. "I was just looking around, this place looks amazing. So the practical exam is gonna be here?"

Freezerburn nodded. "The scenario is that some villains have taken a civilian hostage, and you were called to find and rescue them," he explained. "Somewhere nearby, you will find a group of humanoid robots playing the role of villains. You must rescue and protect the dummy acting as their hostage and return it here, to this rescue zone." He pointed to a square marked off by four green flags. "I will be guarding the rescue zone, while Froppy will be shadowing you from afar to supervise you. Once you get back here with the hostage we will begin the second phase of the practical exam. Do you have any questions?"

Yukino raised her hand. "Should I pretend the robots are real people? I can disable tech with my Quirk pretty easily, but doing the same thing to a person would probably be murder."

Froppy wrote something down, hopefully a good sign.

"It's good that you asked that," Freezerburn said. "You will need to know how to take down real villains without permanently harming them, of course, but for now you only need to make sure the hostage doesn't get damaged. Take the villains down by any means necessary, as long as the hostage remains safe. If you're ready, then start."

Yukino nodded, then crouched and put her tail on the ground. She formed a platform of ice just off the ground, making it with footholds and a sort of staff for her to grip. She hopped on the platform and gripped the staff, taking a deep breath before lifting. Flat-out flight still terrified her, but with her grandfather's help and some padded ground to practice over she'd managed to get herself to the point where she could float a little over the ground without panicking.

Still, it took her a few seconds of concentration to raise the platform, then a deep breath to calm her nerves. She pushed her platform forwards, slow at first but picking up a bit of speed. The ice platform was making her hands and feet cold, so she tried to hurry up and find the robots before she got too cold. She scanned the streets, floating by faster than she could walk but not nearly as fast as her top TK speed. Not only was she not comfortable with that speed just yet, but she doubted she'd be able to spot any robots or even steer if she was going that fast.

After searching a few streets, she spotted a flash of something metallic inside of the the buildings. She slowed to a stop, then crouched down. Yukino floated up a bit, seeing a robot in one of the windows, then floated back down so they hopefully couldn't see her. She quietly snapped the staff off of her platform and floated up to the window, then got off the platform and peeked through it.

It looked like the robots hadn't spotted her yet, fortunately. There was a robot standing by the window, but it looked like it was facing the other direction. Unless the robots didn't have faces, but it hadn't reacted to her presence so probably not. Including the robot by the window, Yukino could see four from where she was. She could also see a dummy on the floor with the kanji for 'hostage' on its otherwise-featureless face. She could guess what that was supposed to be.

Yukino smashed her staff through the glass window, bonking the robot in the back of the head with a flash of white vapor. Frost coated the upper half of the robot, then Yukino threw it at another robot. She shattered her platform into giant shards and threw about half of them at the other two robots, sending the other half to where the dummy was so they could act like a bit of a protective shield. She dropped her staff, jumped up, and moved to the door as fast as she could. A robot opened the door as she reached it, so she quickly struck it in the chest with a Quirk-enhanced palm strike. She only left a handprint of frost on the robot's exterior, but sent a spike of pure cold to where she thought the robot's 'heart' was according to what she felt of the other robot.

The robot immediately slumped over, its power cut. Yukino pushed it aside and looked into the room. The robot she'd thrown the first robot at was almost out from under its frozen comrade, and while she'd gotten one robot with the ice shards the other one had managed to dodge. Yukino quickly tightened the barrier of ice around the dummy now that she could see where it was and didn't have to worry about accidentally cutting it. When that was done she turned the shards that the one robot had dodged back, impaling it, and pressed down on the frozen robot, keeping the other robot pinned under it. She quickly walked over to the final functioning robot and flicked it. Like with the robot at the door, she screwed up its systems with pinpoint freezing.

Yukino got back up, shaking off her hands and walking over to the dummy. She raised the shards of ice that she'd put over it, getting ready to pick it up. And then she heard heavy footsteps coming from the next floor up.

“Never should’ve come here!” a robotic voice yelled, muffled from being one floor up but still audible.

Yukino let out a small curse and summoned all the ice shards to where she was, picking up the dummy and quickly freezing all the ice shards together. It was a patch job, but there hopefully weren't any sharp edges. She placed the dummy on the platform as carefully as she could without being too slow, then quickly floated the dummy through the door. She followed after, closing the door when she went through it and icing it so it wouldn't budge. She summoned her staff to her hand and tapped the broken window with it, making bars of ice over it.

Yukino soon heard metal bodies slamming on the door. She wasn't sure her barricades would hold too long, so she started running. She didn't know if there were any more robots posted nearby, so she kept her eyes on her surroundings as she ran back to the rescue zone.

She didn't encounter any more robots on the way back, thankfully. Along the way, since Yukino wasn't attacked, she let go of her staff and simply let it float by her side. She also checked on how the dummy was doing, since she was so rushed when she remade the platform. She had to adjust it a bit so it wouldn't fall off, but other than that it looked good.

Yukino smiled as she got to the final stretch, seeing only Freezerburn between herself and her objective. She noticed, though, that it looked like he was wearing weird metal bands on his wrists and ankles. Her smile slowly faded to a frown. He wasn't wearing those things earlier, was he?

The metal-laden bands he was wearing, plus the look he was giving Yukino, made her raise her guard as she got closer. She was able to react quickly, then, when he surged forward on a sudden wave of ice. The ground on either side of his ice wave was freezing over in a thin layer, too. Yukino slammed her staff into the ground, erecting a thick wall of her own ice before he could freeze her over. Freezerburn jumped over her wall as his ice crashed into it, fixing her with a glare. "We will begin the second phase of the exam now," he told her.

Yukino grinned. The idea of having to fight the pro hero was intimidating, but at the same time Yukino couldn't help but feel excited to face off with one of her favorite heroes. "A boss fight, huh?" she guessed.

The man nodded. "More or less." He reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled out a roll of tape. "Your goal is to wrap that around my arms. We will stop if Froppy or I decide you are unable to fight. Is that understood?" He threw the tape at Yukino.

Yukino nodded as she grabbed the tape and stuffed it in her hoodie's pocket, then put her hands on her staff and froze a small dome over the platform the dummy was on. She pointed the staff at Freezerburn as she sent the encased dummy off to the rescue zone. Luckily it looked like the rescue zone was still just barely in her range from this distance.

He gave her a small grin. "Getting the hostage out of the way first," he noted. "Good choice." Then he waved his left hand at her staff, throwing a wave of fire at it. Yukino grinned and cut through the fire with her Quirk, though she let some heat behind to warm up her now-cold hands.

She heard a familiar hiss of flash-cooling vapor and jumped to the side of a smaller wave of ice that the half-cold hero had sent her way. He'd also frosted over the rest of the nearby ground while he was at it; the road under Yukino's feet was now covered by a thin layer of white.

It looked like Freezerburn knew at least some of the details of Yukino's Quirk. There was no way he thought she had true cryokinesis with all the ice he was throwing her way. Though Yukino wondered if he knew everything. "Y'know," Yukino said, then waved her hands through the air, which was still above her temperature threshold. White vapor condensed, then gathered into shards of ice. Yukino saw a flash of recognition in the hero's eyes. "I used to wonder why you would never make ice from the air." She threw her ice shards at him.

Freezerburn melted the ice with a quick wave of fire. It wasn't directed at Yukino, but she absorbed the wave of heat left over. Then Yukino shattered the remains of her ice wall and threw the shrapnel at him. He reacted quickly, turning to spray the ice with a jet of fire. Yukino hadn't really expected it to actually hit, but she used the distraction to close the distance between them and jab her staff at the band on his right wrist.

He grabbed the staff, but wasn't quick enough to stop the tip of Yukino's staff from touching the metal on his band. Yukino channeled her freezing through her staff as soon as the ice and metal touched. She could feel Freezerburn trying to cut her off with his Quirk, though, a weird feeling like water slipping from her Quirk's grasp. She lowered her absorption as he lowered the temperature himself, then when she felt the threshold approaching she pushed. It wasn't as good as if she was unopposed, but Yukino was able to gain control of most of the metal and the ice that formed around his wrist from the contest, with just a few swirls left out of her influence. It was always a weird feeling, but thanks to her mother Yukino was familiar with those little contests of cold.

As she thought, the metal was dense. Yukino snapped her staff in half and jabbed the half not frozen to his wrist restraint at the band on his right leg. She easily threw his arm back with her telekinesis to throw him off, distracting him enough that she was able to hit his ankle band. Yukino grinned widely as she put it under her control, then forced him to raise his leg by lifting the band up. He tried to point his right hand at her, but found telekinetic resistance that he simply couldn't fight with due to his poor footing.

"Those weights are meant to make you slower, right?" Yukino asked. "Throwing you off so you're a little easier from hero students to fight, on top of the sandbagging." Yukino's grin widened as she deliberately tried to evoke her draconic ancestry. "You might've guessed by now, but the amount of energy I can put into an object is dependent on mass, not size. You're fighting against their weight as well as my Quirk."

"But your control will fail if I heat it back up, will it not?" he asked, then pointed his left hand at his right. Yukino reached out as he shot a jet of fire at his wrist, cutting the blow off with her own hand. Freezerburn's eyes widened as his fire just stopped in Yukino's palm, the heat absorbed by her Quirk.

Yukino sighed. "C'mon, didn't you notice me cooling off your fire earlier?" She clasped her hands around Freezerburn's left hand before he could turn off his fire, the white vapor that accompanied her Quirk seeming to snuff out his flames. He didn't lower his output, instead increasing it to keep Yukino from freezing his hand. Yukino greedily sucked at the energy he was giving off. It tasted of some really good cold soba.

She laughed, shaking Freezerburn's hand a little. She pulled the right side of his body away from her a little more, before he could try to hit her. "Y'know, I've kinda always wanted to shake your hand," she told him. "This isn't at all how I imagined it going, of course, but honestly this is better. I was worried you’d overwhelm me with your ice, but it looks like I managed to hit your weak point before you could steamroll mine."

Freezerburn struggled against the floating restraints, unable to do much since Yukino was holding onto one arm and pulling the other arm (and leg) away from her, then tried to set a fire with his foot. Yukino stomped it out before he could do anything more than melt the frost by his feet, able to use her Quirk through her shoe without discomfort since it was so hot. "You've managed to restrain me," he said. "Impressive, but you haven't won yet."

"Yeah, I know," Yukino said. She flashed her Quirk through a strand of her hair, granting her the ability to move it since she needed both hands to keep Freezerburn from breaking out of their deadlock. She used the hair to reach into her pocket, though it took some mental effort and was a little slow since she was concentrating on keeping Freezerburn’s right (and, to Yukino, more dangerous) side from reaching the ground where he could use it to do anything aside from prolong her control over him. Yukino cooled her capture tape as soon as she felt her hair touch it, then pulled it out of her pocket with her telekinesis.

Freezerburn struggled some more as he saw the capture tape floating towards his wrist. He almost broke free, but Yukino dug her claws into his skin with a small 'sorry' to keep her grip. She tried not to break his skin, but he still winced from the sharp claws digging into his flesh. Yukino felt him raising the heat of his Quirk as she unraveled a length of tape and prepared to loop it around his wrist. Yukino tried to raise up her cooling to match, though she could feel him slowly overtaking her. Her claws turned an icy white as she pushed her Quirk to its limits despite not making any ice. She tried to pick up the pace of unrolling the capture tape, pulling Freezerburn's straining arms a little closer together as well so she didn't have to roll out as much.

Finally she managed to get it long enough to make loose loops around both of Freezerburn's wrists, then relaxed the resistance around Freezerburn's bands so she could put more attention into getting the capture tape properly around his wrists. She didn't let go of his left arm, he'd probably incinerate the tape immediately if she did, but he stumbled as he suddenly found himself able to properly move the right side of his body. Yukino pulled as fast as she could, closing the loops around his wrists before he could stop her.

He sighed and relaxed as the capture tape touched his wrists. He still kept up the fire, though, which was probably a good idea because Yukino might've accidentally frozen him with how much heat she was sucking up. "We're done. We should probably try to safely turn our Quirks off now."

Yukino shrugged. "I can jump off at the count of three? There's ice everywhere so it probably won't damage the road too much more than it probably is already if you accidentally splash some fire out."

He nodded. "That sounds like a good idea. If you're ready?"

"One..." Yukino said. "Two..." She jumped away from Freezerburn, getting mostly out of the range of the heat wave that spilled out when she released him and her Quirk stopped suppressing his.

Freezerburn quickly cut off the fire, leaving the ground near him unscorched but steaming and defrosted. He shook out his left hand, wincing at the marks Yukino's claws had left.

"Sorry about that..." Yukino said.

"It's okay," the man assured her coolly. "We were in a fight, after all." He rubbed his right wrist next, melting the ice and warming the weighted band back up. He warmed up the leg band next. "I can't promise you anything at the moment, but you performed very well." He held his hand out to her. "I would be delighted to have you as a student, Takeda-san."

Yukino stared at the hand he was offering her. She laughed a little, wiping away a happy tear. "Thanks. You have no idea how much that means to me." She grabbed his hand, giving it a firm shake. A real one this time, from one of her favorite heroes (that she was not directly related to).

"Now, could you please get on my right side?" he asked. "I'd like to warm the area up a bit before Froppy comes back."

"Oh, sure," Yukino said, walking over to his right side. She walked to his side. As he warmed the area up with his fire, Yukino looked around to see Froppy watching them on top of a nearby building. It looked a bit like she was glaring at Freezerburn. Yukino smiled and waved at her. She hoped, no, knew that she was going to get into UA. She was going to like it here.

#taiyuu oct #taiyuu ocs #bnha ocs #takeda yukino #yukinos family

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perfeggso · 4 years

Text

till the sun’s seeing through my eyes (yumark)

hitting for six

Yuta and Mark are next-door neighbors who grew up together, joined at the hip until Yuta went off to college. Due to their four-year age gap, Mark’s freshman year at the same school marks the halfway point of an unprecedented amount of time apart. Yuta is sure he can handle it, until Mark’s arrival home for spring break makes him wonder if the fondness he has for his friend might be blooming quite literally into something stronger. It’s up to him to handle the consequences.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Masterlist

Characters: Yuta x Mark + NCT ensemble, other SM (and non-SM (?)) idols tbd, character families

Genres: heavy angst, fluff, Hanahaki!AU, small town!AU, slight Witchcraft/Magic!AU, College!AU

Warnings: blood and gore, mentions of death, disease, vomiting, college-typical alcohol use, swearing

Rating: T

Length: 8.3k

Yuta twirled the stick of rock candy he’d picked up at the market around between his lips, enjoying how it felt rough on his tongue and filled his mouth with the flavor of unadulterated sugar. He checked his phone – no new messages.

He tapped the toe of his sneakers against the linoleum floor of Kun’s coffeeshop and drummed his hands against the seafoam counter before pulling the candy from his lips with a pop and dunking it in his glass of mint tea. All around him, the clinking, hissing, and chatter of a well-liked café filled his ears, and the arousing scent of coffee steam kept him a fidgety kind of alert. On second thought, replace “alert” with “distracted.”

“Did you hear me, Yuta?” Sicheng was saying, sitting at the table nearest the espresso machine and picking at a mini egg custard tart. Yuta had not heard him, that much was evident.

Yuta sighed with some effort, then made a fake sorry face. “No – no, I apologize, babe, I didn’t.”

Sicheng rolled his eyes. “Whatever, it wasn’t important.” He took a large bite of his tart, pale, buttery crumbs affixing to his lips.

“Neko latte!” Kun interrupted, setting a white coffee cup in front of Yuta, the frothed milk on top of it shaped like a stubby-tailed cat that wiggled as the cup moved. Yuta had to restrain himself from jiggling its foam butt into oblivion. Kun returned a moment later with a plate. “Aaaand, let’s see, one slice of orange poppy seed bread.” He dropped his smiling customer service face momentarily as he leaned in towards Yuta. “I thought you said you could handle calling out the orders. That was my condition for letting you behind the counter, wasn’t it?”

Yuta shrugged, repeating the order at double Kun’s original volume and smirking when a customer instantly shot out of her seat to come collect it. Yuta downed his tea, burning his throat, and stuck the melting candy back into his mouth as she made her way over, pushing the now-empty cup forward as an encouragement to leave a tip in it, which the poor girl did. Kun snatched the sticky bill from the cup and shook it out, disapproval contorting his face as he voiced his disappointment with a simple “nope.”

“But Kun, I watched her earlier and she didn’t leave a tip when she ordered,” Yuta protested, making himself laugh until it was threatening to become a cough. Dammit. He pulled in a shaky breath. “I’m only trying to help.”

Kun pointed to the seating area. “Out.”

Yuta sulked his way to the chair opposite Sicheng, noting on his way that it was still pouring not insignificantly outside. Yuta had gotten off work early because of the rain; the indoor soccer field had been reserved weeks earlier for the high school team. Instead, he’d taken his kids to Yukhei’s gym for a short workout and then sent them home, choosing to wile away the rest of his time waiting for Mark with his buddies over a warm beverage.

“Has he responded yet?” Sicheng asked.

“No,” Yuta pouted. He’d sent Mark a text nearly twenty-five minutes ago saying he was ahead of schedule and to come meet him at Kun’s shop. “Ugh, wait, I’m sorry. What were you saying earlier? Nothing you say is unimportant, friend.”

Sicheng looked like he wanted to smack Yuta and hug him at the same time. Yuta was used to this.

“I was only teasing you for missing my speech last night because no one cut you off,” Sicheng clarified, wiping his hands against each other once he’d finished eating.

The memory of heaving in his bathroom in an attempt to extract whatever was obstructing his airways hit Yuta like an unforeseen ocean wave. He nodded slowly, schooling his face to pretend to be irritated rather than scared. He didn’t want to lie to his friend, but not even he knew what the real issue was, and it would undoubtedly get sorted, so why worry people?

Yuta made his face into the disappointment emoji. “Mm-hm,” he said. “Well since you can only process my suffering as it pertains to you, maybe you’ll cut me off next time you have something important to say.”

Sicheng raised his eyebrows. “Someone’s feeling bitchy today,” he observed. “This is because your boyfriend’s not texting back, isn’t it?”

Yuta scoffed. “Boyfriend,” he huffed in disbelief, but the word stirred a sickened feeling inside him. He chose to ignore that. “Yeah, it is,” he teased, “you jealous?”

Sicheng shook his head. “Not at all,” he said. “It means you’ll let me be for a couple weeks.”

Yuta laughed, his body once again nearly giving into coughing. Like, choking on one’s dinner and needing the Heimlich kind of coughing. Instead of letting that happen and calling attention to himself, he doused his throat in the contents of a glass of water.

His breathing had been a bit better since he’d spoken with his mother that morning, but the problem wasn’t gone, and the raw coughing fits that started the day before were only growing more frequent. A particularly violent one had gripped him during practice, scaring some of his kids enough that he’d run away to the bathroom to get it under control. Thankfully, Yukhei had been in another room.

Yuta came from a tradition of hedge witches, of which his mother was a shining example. She ran an apothecary in town with his father; handling the medicine and potions side of it while he handled the business angle. She was a skilled potion-maker and healer, and she had a keen sense of spiritual effects on the physical. She was often able to gain insights that seemed so spot-on that Yuta had no choice but to believe whatever she told him to do.

She’d encouraged her children to utilize tarot cards from an early age and endeavored ever since to teach them everything she knew. Now and then, having someone so spiritually inclined as a parent could be burdensome, but it was times like these – when Yuta felt something strange and unwelcome stirring in him – that he felt he was lucky.

When Yuta had gone to the main house that morning, he found his mother in the kitchen, making banana pancakes as his little sister looked over her advanced biology homework. The high school still had a week left before spring break.

“Hi Haruna,” Yuta greeted, shoving her face softly into her papers and receiving a well-earned glare.

“Good morning, dingus. You really shouldn’t be partying when you have work in the morning.”

Haruna was a senior, less than a year younger than Mark (a fact which regularly escaped Yuta’s mind) and possessed an attitude problem – though one quite different from Yuta’s. That morning, she wore a long, eggplant-purple frock dress with lots of heavy eyeliner and her hair in a helmet-like bob. She might have been sartorially challenged and a bit of a bitch in Yuta’s view, but she was also his adorable little sister, and a veritable genius, he had to admit.

Yuta went to the fridge and pulled out an apricot yogurt. “I assure you I can handle myself,” he said, grabbing one of a collection of mismatched spoons and plopping it into his breakfast. “The last thing I need is a seventeen-year-old lecturing me on alcohol.”

Haruna tried to flick some of the syrup on her fork into her brother’s hair but missed. “I can’t wait until Momoka comes home to visit,” she grumbled. “Maybe you’ll listen to her.”

Yuta’s mother gave her youngest and middle child a heavy look of disapproval as she flipped a pancake with a wet, resounding plop. The action itself communicated as much authority as any scolding words could have. Yuta just smiled sweetly, digging into his yogurt.

“Yuta, dear,” she began, “can I interest you in some pancakes?”

Yuta shook his head, feeling a little guilty, but he was rarely very hungry in the mornings. “No, this is enough for me,” he said. His mother smiled. It was the same smile Haruna would flash when she was about to tease him.

“Well, I’m sure you didn’t come all the way over here just to bother your studious sister and refuse my cooking, so there has to be something else, hm? I’m right, aren’t I?”

Yuta sighed. As usual, she was indeed correct. “As a matter of fact, there is something bothering me.”

His mother listened attentively as he recounted the last day’s events: the asthma scare, trying to use the potion she’d taught him with a prayer, his concern over the reading he’d had that morning. All the while, she finished shaping her stack of pancakes and leaned on her elbows, steam rising from the food and swirling in front of her paisley house dress, fluffy hair, purple kerchief, and concerned face.

“It sounds to me like you’re having anxiety about change,” she offered once he’d finished. “You always tend to have flare-ups during transition periods.”

“Yeah,” Haruna cut in, spearing a chunk of pancake and narrowly escaping dropping it on her school papers, “remember when you were a freshman and you had a panic attack before coming home for winter break? You said you could hardly breathe all night and that you didn’t think you wanted to come back.”

Haruna seemed a little too casual with that difficult memory for Yuta’s liking, although she was right that he hadn’t forgotten. He pinched his eyebrows together.

“Is this a transition period though?” he asked. Everything for him was more or less the same as it had been all year.

His mother nodded. “I’d say so. Some of your younger friends are coming home, and Taeil will be going back to the city soon. There are a lot of moving pieces in your life at the moment, dear. I don’t think it's at all strange that you’re feeling off and maybe hiding some things from yourself.”

“Alternately,” quipped Haruna as their mother went to fetch a cloudy, pastel purple concoction she had sitting in a beaker by the window, “you’re just a drama queen.”

Yuta started. “Wanna get your butt kicked by a college athlete?” he threatened. Haruna stuck her tongue out at him.

“You mean former intramural college athlete?”

“That’s enough!”

Yuta and Haruna both turned to face their mother. She looked like her hair would be suspended in exasperation if she were in a Ghibli Movie. Yuta knew that meant it was time to Shut Up. Oops.

She sighed, running her hands over the lip of the beaker in her hand and muttering to herself to calm down. Then, she slid it forward to her son.

“Bring this to work with you, Yuta,” she advised, voice still stern. “I made it fresh this morning for the shop, but I think you could use it. It has lavender, mint, chamomile, soy oil, salts, and I’ve charged it with moon water. It’s something I’ve been messing around with for dealing with anxiety and stress during liminal periods in life.” Yuta nodded, listening attentively and twirling the little vial in between his fingers. She went on. “Then later whenever you have time, I want you to sit alone with your confusion for a little while. I think that might give you more insight into what is driving this spiritually and subconsciously. Try not to smother it, whatever it is.”

Of course his mom’s advice was essentially “meditate.” Why had he even bothered to ask? He nodded one more time, subdued, and dropped the vial of pale liquid into his pocket. He would put it into a water bottle and bring it along.

Yuta finished his yogurt and chucked the container into the recycling. “Thank you, Mom,” he said, snagging a pancake on his way out of the kitchen just to win a little more of her favor. “And have a good day, Haruna.”

“You too, dingus.”

“Tell me if you’re feeling better tonight!” his mother called after him, finishing off with a mild threat: “And I’ll be able to tell if you didn’t follow my directions!”

Yuta sighed for what felt like the eightieth time all day, watching the café’s glass door from over Sicheng’s shoulder for any signs of Mark. He didn’t know how to summon people or things, but he half-imagined that he did, concentrating so hard on the door that it was making his eyes cross. And in a matter of seconds, it worked (or, at least, the universe gave the illusion of it working).

Mark rushed into the coffeeshop, looking harried and tugging a cumbersome guitar case along with him which he tried desperately to protect with a too-small umbrella. The image put Yuta at attention, smiling.

“I’m so sorry!” Mark spluttered as he rushed through the door. “I was practicing, and I didn’t check my phone!”

“Whoa there,” Kun warned from behind the counter. “This does not need to be advertised to my entire clientele.”

Mark shook out his umbrella and shoved it into the holder in the entryway, checking with Yuta that they planned on staying for at least a little while and apologizing sheepishly to Kun.

He sat down at the table with Yuta and Sicheng as Yuta grinned at him.

“Don’t be sorry, Markie-boy,” Yuta said, poking Mark in the side and making him almost giggle his way out of his chair. As the chair tipped and then slingshotted violently back to its starting position from Mark regaining his balance, it clattered so loudly that it attracted more concerned looks than Mark had when he’d busted through the door. Yuta hardly seemed to register this as he gushed about how devoted his friend was to his craft that he would haul his equipment through a rainstorm. Kun rolled his eyes and huffed in defeat at yet another disruption.

“Mark, the usual?” he asked, and Mark nodded after nervously confirming Yuta didn’t have other plans for them to go eat somewhere.

Only then did he allow himself to settle in, peeling off his damp jacket and balancing his guitar case against the side of his chair.

“Did you carry that all the way here?” Sicheng asked, and Yuta shot him an obvious look.

“Of course he did,” he replied for his friend, and Sicheng glared at him. “The kid can’t drive, after all. Just like you.”

Mark nodded in confirmation as Kun set a mug of hot chocolate and a cream cheese bagel in front of him. “I love being referred to as ‘the kid’ as if I’m not present,” he snarked. “Also, thanks, Kun.”

“Sure thing.”

Yuta crunched absently at the end of his rock candy. “Aw, don’t go trying to make me feel bad when you forced me to wait for thirty-five minutes and didn’t even tell me you were on your way. It’s like you want to keep me in constant suspense with your little surprises.” Mark scowled, but his mouth was too stuffed with bagel to form a retort, so Yuta went on. “Anyway, you got a guitar in there?”

Mark swallowed. “What do you think?”

“I think we’re just impressed you lugged it all the way here,” Sicheng clarified, trying to clear the air of Yuta’s usual bitchiness. “Surely, you brought it for a reason.”

Mark clapped his hands against each other to rid them of crumbs, body going taut with excitement.

“Actually yes!” he mouthed around his food. “I did have a reason. I wanted to show off what I’ve been practicing!”

“Oooooh!” Yuta buzzed, applauding preemptively at hyper-speed. “You might want to check with the stickler in charge though,” he warned, stage whispering and indicating towards Kun. The subject of the jest frowned at his table of friends.

“I can hear you, Yuta,” he said, “and it’s fine. Just give me a minute to turn the speakers off.”

Soon enough, Mark had extracted his guitar from its case and had it over his knee, strumming experimentally to warm up and drawing the attention of most of the customers behind him.

“Don’t look now, Mark,” Sicheng began. “But it looks like you’ve roped yourself into a little concert.”

“A little what now?” he asked, immediately going against the advice he’d just received and turning around to meet the gazes of at least fifteen people he only marginally knew. “Oh, uh, okay. This is fine.”

Yuta smiled to himself as he watched his friend adjust his fingers over the metal strings and clear his throat, red face betraying that he might not, in fact, be fine.

Pretty soon though, he was finger-picking his way through the intro to Frank Ocean’s “Cayendo.” Once Mark started singing, Yuta found himself lulled into an admiring trance at the smooth sweetness of Mark’s voice. Mark was usually shy about singing solo, but he’d been working on it and Yuta loved that he had gained some confidence. The fact that the song was in a language Yuta couldn’t understand served even further to pull him under its calm spell.

He pretended to swoon at the little performance, rolling his eyes around and fanning himself theatrically. “Ooh, Markie, take me now,” he joked, just loud enough for his table to hear and no one else. Mark’s ears went red and he struggled to sing through a giggle.

Right in the middle of the song though, Mark sang a stanza that Yuta did understand. It ended with a melancholy plea of love:

When I still really, really love you, like I do

If you won't, then I will

If you can't, then I will

Is it love to keep it from you?

It was such a sad sentiment. Yuta thought that if he were a more sentimental person, and under different circumstances, he would have started to cry. Though, maybe he wasn’t as unsentimental as he thought he was…

Mark transitioned back to singing in Spanish and Yuta took the moment to lose himself less in his friend’s voice and more in the space around them: the chatter of impressed coffee-sippers, the whirring of the espresso machine, the soft and appreciative expressions on his friends’ faces. It was almost as sweet as the leftover sugar which coated the inside of his mouth – almost sweet enough for him to forget that some kind of repression within him was causing him vascular stress. Almost; almost.

Mark plucked the last note of the song and the café broke into a pitter-patter of applause which echoed the pounding of rain outside, and in that moment, as if to remind him of the tenuousness of his almosts, Yuta found himself hurled into the most intense pain he’d felt in the last twenty-four hours.

He bent himself over and started retching into a napkin. It was the same sensation he’d gotten the night before at the party, when he’d locked himself in the bathroom and coughed himself raw into the white sink, trying to force something out that just wouldn’t budge. He felt like he had a copper wire weaving through his muscles, and someone was sending shocks of electricity through it.

Sicheng and Mark stared at him in concern and Sicheng pushed a glass of water his way. He choked out his thanks before downing it in one go, once again taking note of the clump of – something – which drifted back down along with the liquid. By the time he had himself back under control, both his friends were posing some variation on the same ‘you okay?’ question.

“Yeah, yeah,” he lied. “Just aspirated some very sharp candy.”

Sicheng winced. “Ouch,” he said. “At least you had the courtesy to wait until Mark was finished.”

Yuta stuck his tongue out, but the way his friend went so casually back to teasing him actually made him feel a little better.

“I know the Heimlich maneuver!” Mark said, a stupidly proud grin crossing his face as he set his guitar back into its case and puffed his chest out involuntarily. “So I could have saved you if it came to that.”

Yuta smiled weakly. “That’s very reassuring, Mark.”

“NBD.” Yuta groaned, the sharp pain from only moments ago leaving him just as quickly as it had come. He cringed. Had Mark really just said “NBD?” Whatever. Mark continued.

“Seriously though, what did you guys think?”

“It was really good,” Sicheng said, “and I would say, a glowing testament to your four years of high school Spanish.”

Mark snickered. “What about you, Yutaaa?”

“Well if you couldn’t tell by the way I reacted at the beginning, I loved it! Really, like your voice just keeps getting better and better.”

Mark placed a hand over his heart, meaning to indicate that Yuta’s compliment had touched him.

“Aren’t you not supposed to be using instruments though?” Sicheng chimed. “I mean, considering you’re an a cappella person?”

Mark rolled his eyes. “Very funny,” he said. “But thanks, guys. I think I might play it live sometime on the Serotonin Hour.” That was the name of the radio show Johnny had left to him upon graduation.

“You know,” Yuta began, rapping his fingers against the table, “when Johnny willed his time slot to you, I don’t think he expected you’d use it for such self-serving purposes.”

Mark rolled his eyes even farther into his head this time. “It’s an hour where I impose my music taste on the small group of people who actually bother to tune in. What could be more self-serving?”

Yuta clicked his tongue. Mark had a point.

“Anyway,” said Mark, hopping to his feet, “what do you want to do, Yuta?”

***

Since it was raining out, they decided they would have to stay mostly indoors, so they resolved to wander around the market hall until they came up with a more exciting activity, Yuta letting Mark store his guitar in the trunk of his car while they perused. Sicheng was invited along too, but he had a dance class to run in half an hour and needed to review his lesson plan ahead of time, so it was just the two of them.

Well, it was just the two of them until they got to the Jung family farmstand at the end of the long, warehouse-like building. Jaehyun sat behind it, writing something into a notebook and looking so bored that his face was practically melting into the hand supporting it.

“Oh, thank god,” he said when he saw his friends approaching. “It’s been such a slow day I was ready to choke myself out just to have something to do.”

“Ooh, kinky,” Yuta guffawed at his friend as Mark nodded slowly.

“Nice to see you too, man,” Mark said.

“Want anything?”

Yuta and Mark surveyed their options: a selection of dairy products, meat, and eggs in a set of coolers, and a table covered in artichokes, celery, pears, asparagus, broccoli, brussels sprouts, cabbages, and a veritable rainbow of root vegetables. As usual, the Jung family farm’s output looked delicious. Maybe Yuta would get something for his parents to put in tonight’s dinner. He grabbed a bundle of radishes by the leaves and shoved them at his friend with a grin.

Mark, on the other hand, knew immediately what he would go for.

“And, uh, can I get a banana milk?”

Jaehyun nodded as Yuta gave his younger friend his best side-eye.

“You just drank a giant hot chocolate. Haven’t you had enough dairy for one day?”

Mark pouted, fishing for his wallet, and Yuta couldn’t help but smile at the way Mark’s eyes looked like shiny tea saucers. He could be devilishly cute sometimes. Cute enough to make Yuta want to buy shit for him, which he did, paying for the radishes and the milk before Mark even had the opportunity to complain.

“Drink up!”

Mark glared. “Fine. I’ll just sneak-buy you something next time.”

Yuta wobbled his head like an anime heroine as he spoke. “Oh, so I’ll get a next time? Man, this date is going so well!” he said, and Mark’s ears flushed for the second time in thirty minutes. A niggling voice in the back of Yuta’s head told him he wanted to see Mark like that more often. He brushed that idea away, not quite knowing how to process it.

“Whatever,” Mark mumbled as Jaehyun looked on in his usual casual detachment. Yuta turned his attention back to him.

“By the way, Jae, where are your parents? Can’t they come relieve you of your existential dread?”

Jaehyun blew a puff of air at his bangs. “I wish,” he responded. “They’re out of town for the weekend though, so I’m left to suffer alone. Oh – which reminds me! Can you go check on Sugarfoot and Lacey for me? They probably need their water troughs refilled right about now. And besides, I’m sure they miss Mark.”

Yuta and Mark agreed easily. Everyone loved those horses, even if Sugarfoot could be a pain in the ass. When Yuta was a teenager, she had apparently decided he’d lived long enough, because she tried to buck him off until Yuta was pretty sure he’d suffered acute whiplash. Besides Jaehyun, Johnny was the only person she seemed to tolerate (and tolerate simply meant she was a bitch to him rather than straight-up murderous), but alas, Johnny wasn’t around.

“Perfect,” Jaehyun said. “I’d do it myself, but everyone here knows my parents and they’d definitely somehow manage to tell them I’d abandoned my post. You know where the keys to the stable are and everything, right?”

“Yup!”

And with that, Yuta and Mark left Jaehyun to return to pondering auto-asphyxiation.

It had stopped raining outside, and the sky was in the process of clearing from a mournful grey to a clear periwinkle, like a windshield-wiper was slowly swiping across it to rid it of clouds. They ran into Taeil on the way to Yuta’s car, in the middle of walking five dogs of varying sizes and breeds.

Naturally, Mark became immediately preoccupied by the tangle of fur attached tenuously to Taeil’s wrist by a set of leashes. The cute scene made Yuta’s chest go tight with fondness.

Yuta told Taeil they’d missed him at the party the night before as Mark rolled around on the wet ground, getting his face smothered by a particularly friendly Chow Chow and laughing like his lungs were about to burst out of his chest.

“I know, I’m sorry!” Taeil said, trying not to let himself get tugged around. “It was just last minute and I’d already been roped into cooking for my family, and we had friends over – bad timing.”

Yuta waved him off. “Don’t worry, I’ll only hold it against you forever. But when do you go back to the city?”

“Next week,” Taeil replied, leaning down awkwardly to save Mark from five rough tongues. Taeil didn’t have a dog himself (although he did have a goose in his backyard, a fact which Yuta was never not perplexed by) but his family owned the local pet shop and he always had dog-walker duty when he was home. It was also how he made money when he was in high school. “We should definitely get together before I go back though!” Taeil continued. “You guys can help me make this pasta dish I’ve been wanting to try. Sound good Mark?”

Mark got up, brushing the wet dirt off his backside. “What? Oh yeah, for sure! I’m always down to eat – and to see you, Taeil. I didn’t forget about you.”

Taeil looked dryly at his younger friend. “Yeah, of course. But listen, Mark, it’s really good luck we’re home at the same time. I need you to tell me all about how the Aca-Fellas are doing.” Mark nodded shyly. Taeil had been the star of the a cappella group at his college, so he’d had plenty of run-ins with the Fellas at competitions. His own superiority at singing was something it was at times difficult to get him to shut up about. Taeil continued:

“Anyway, I should be going. These guys are getting squirrely, and I don’t want them to do their business right here. I’ll see you two around, I guess. Enjoy the rest of your date!”

Hey, Yuta thought, that’s my joke. Somehow it made him feel weird to hear someone else use it.

***

They were at Jaehyun’s stables after a short drive, and they found the keys easily. Mark scratched lovingly at Lacey’s chin as Yuta filled the troughs with water. Then, they decided it was as good a time as any to see if Johnny was free to FaceTime. He was.

“Heyoooo,” Johnny greeted once his pixelated face flashed onto Yuta’s phone. Yuta laughed. His friend looked happy and healthy. “Oh what? You have Mark with you? Sweet!”

They caught up on Johnny’s life for a few minutes; he was having a great time on his own, but he missed everyone and couldn’t wait to come home in the summer.

“Hurry home,” Yuta joked, getting up from the bail of hay he’d been sitting on because Sugarfoot was cribbing on the door to her stable. “I think Taeyong is wilting without you here.”

Johnny chuckled indulgently. “I’m sure he’ll be fine.” He gasped and his image froze in the exaggerated reaction face he’d pulled, making Mark squeak with laughter. “Is that my favorite girlie?” came his crackling voice.

Yuta held the phone up to Sugarfoot, nudging her head a bit to get her to detach her teeth from the wood. “Sure is.”

Johnny asked if Jaehyun was there, so Yuta informed him on their friend’s predicament. Then Johnny addressed Mark, telling him he should try braiding Sugarfoot’s dark mane – he’d found she had come to enjoy it. Mark, being the least experienced with Jaehyun’s bitch of a mare, immediately fell for it and tried, causing Sugarfoot to squeal and jerk her neck away from his touch. He fell back on his butt in surprise and Johnny cackled through Yuta’s phone speaker.

“Aw, I see college hasn’t made you less gullible, Markie-boy.”

“It most certainly has not,” Yuta confirmed, and Mark attempted a glare, but it only ended up looking like what he’d done when Johnny tried to teach him how to flirt that one time.

Johnny continued. “Anyway, Mark how are you really? I don’t care about this old hag; Yuta, give the phone to Mark.”

Yuta handed over the phone with a casual threat of murder.

Mark was doing well. Johnny asked if his a cappella group had let him rap yet. Mark rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, leaning against the stable door right next to Lacey.

“Naw, not yet,” he said. “Just beatboxing for now. Eventually...”

Johnny shrugged. “It’s okay. When you’re a senior you can run the group and do whatever the hell you want. And, when they see how good you are, that’ll really show ’em.”

Yuta watched the conversation unfold, reveling in the warm feeling he got from watching some of his favorite people interact.

“Are you doing the Serotonin Hour justice, by the way?” Johnny asked. “Playing that good shit?”

Mark fumbled around a response so Yuta cut in, yelling from off-screen. “He’s great, Johnny! Wish you were here to tune in because I think he might be surpassing you in quality already.”

Yuta heard Johnny scoff as Mark looked embarrassed. “Impossible!” Yuta leaned in next to Mark and Johnny asked about his own parents.

Yuta frowned. “Can’t you just call them and ask how they’re doing?”

“I did! I do!” Johnny said, exasperated. “I wanted to hear it from a third party though, otherwise all they tell me is ‘we’re good, John, we’re good. Everything’s just fine.’ Know what I mean?”

Mark answered. Mr. and Mrs. Seo were doing just as well as they let on to their son, as far as he could tell. This seemed to satisfy him.

Johnny had to go soon after this, so Yuta and Mark took the opportunity to get back in Yuta’s car and drive to his house, where brand new purple crocuses had pushed through the dirt in the front yard.

Yuta led Mark straight to his loft when they arrived, happy to finally have some actual alone time with his friend. He didn’t know where this territorial streak was coming from. He usually did it as a joke – especially with Mark and Sicheng – but all of a sudden, he didn’t feel like he was joking anymore. He shrugged it off mentally. It probably had something to do with his repression, he figured, realizing he hadn’t followed all his mother’s instructions yet. Oh well, the meditation could wait.

“Do you want to stay for dinner?” he offered. “We can hang out all day that way, until you’re absolutely fed up with me.”

Mark giggled as they traipsed through the wet grass, passing the fresh crocuses.

“Uh, yeah, that sounds good,” Mark agreed. “I’ll text my parents and ask them.”

“I don’t think you’ll need to,” Yuta remarked, pointing straight ahead to where Mr. Lee stood in his driveway, getting ready to go out. “Mr. Lee!”

Mark’s dad turned around, startled for a moment, before waving.

“Your son is eating dinner over here!” Yuta yelled. “We’ll take good care of him!”

Mark laughed nervously at Yuta’s side as his dad consented. Yuta had to admit that his life was a little emptier when Mark’s ridiculous giggle-fits weren’t a daily feature.

Back in Yuta’s room, Mark hooked his phone up to Yuta’s Bluetooth speaker and played one of his most recent DJ set playlists while Yuta sat at his vanity and yanked a radish from the bunch he’d bought earlier from Jaehyun, biting off a chunk. It tasted watery and sharp.

“What are you doing?” Mark protested. “I thought those were for your parents.”

“I’m only taste-testing,” Yuta defended, mouth full of radish. “Calm down.” He poised the other half of the radish as if he were about to overhand chuck it in Mark’s direction. That was, in fact, what he planned to do. “Open up.”

Mark’s eyes went wide. “But it has your spit on it!”

Yuta rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a baby.”

Mark nodded in acquiescence, opening his mouth for a split second before thinking of something else to worry about.

“This seems dangerous though, like what if I choke on it?”

“Then that’s really too bad because I do not know the Heimlich,” Yuta snarked. “Try not to.”

Mark opened his mouth again and Yuta threw the radish in an arc the few feet between them. Mark shuffled a little to align his mouth and caught the radish, doing a little dance of victory when he realized he’d succeeded.

“Yoooooo!” he yelled around his mouthful.

Yuta clapped, he remarked to himself, like a cheerleader congratulating his boyfriend. Whatever. He wasn’t above that.

“That’s what I call synchronicity!” he said.

Then, Yuta decided to experiment with combinations of the new earrings he’d bought recently while he and Mark talked. They ended up mostly reminiscing about the stupid hijinks they’d gotten themselves into over the years: the time they got drunk and went skinny-dipping in the bioluminescence despite a slew of recent shark sightings (Mark kept trying to drift off into the mist and when they heard a loud splash near them in the water, Yuta asked Mark if he’d retrieve his dick if it got bitten off. “Is that something you would want me to do?” Mark had responded); the time they went cliff-diving as a group and somehow Yuta managed to injure himself while stumbling over rocks to take a picture and then tried to tell everyone who hadn’t been there that he’d hurt himself jumping into the water so he wouldn’t sound like an idiot; the time Mark tried weed for the first time and became convinced he was suffering an aneurysm, begging Yuta to make him a potion for it; all the times Yuta and Mark travelled to dance competitions together as kids and shared hotel rooms, planning their entire futures as they waited to get sleepy. They had promised to always have houses next to each other, and that their families and spouses would be forever close.

Yuta sometimes found that, with long-time friends he didn’t get to see as often as he would have liked, it was easier to reminisce than to create new, whole memories. It had nothing to do with Mark’s value as a friend, and they still came away from every summer with plenty of additional experiences and stories, but Yuta hated the feeling he sometimes got of their rhythm being off during the shorter breaks. He worried their friendship would calcify into something past tense. But then again, he figured, a deep understanding like what he and Mark shared didn’t need constant updates.

Being with Mark sometimes took him back to being eighteen – right before he left for college – and in a way he liked that as much as he liked his friend. He just got an occasional sinking feeling that they were missing each other’s landmarks. It was irrational, but he couldn’t deny it.

Mark had moved on to updates about his friend group as Yuta held a thin and dangly silver earring against his lobe. Mark nodded in approval and Yuta worked to stifle a sudden bout of coughing. Ah yes. There it is.

Later, at the dinner table, Yuta hardly got a word in edgewise with his parents and sister grilling Mark on how his first year was wrapping up: was his friend group holding up? Yup. Did he like his second semester classes? He did. Was he still sure he wanted to pursue a conservation major? Yes. Did he know who he’d room with the next year? He was going to try to room with his friend Yeri, but they had to sign a consent form for co-ed housing first. When was his next a cappella performance? The big one was in late April. Did he have a significant other?

Yuta almost hacked up a spoonful of his root vegetable soup before glaring at his mom, the source of that query.

“Aish, why does everyone wanna know that?” asked Mark, setting his spoon down for a second. “Sorry, it’s just really funny to me. No, I don’t.”

Yuta looked across the table to his mother and caught her sending an irritated look right back at him. He figured it was probably related to the vague threat she’d made earlier that she would know if he didn’t follow all her advice by the time he got home in the evening.

Once they’d finished eating, the boys helped wash the dishes and Mrs. Nakamoto gifted Mark a little vial of her signature lucky potion for him to use during finals.

“Bye, little dingus,” Haruna called to Mark as he and Yuta were on their way out for a quick post-prandial stroll. Yuta turned around.

“Don’t talk to your elder that way!” She rolled her eyes.

Outside, it was fully dark, and a distinct late-winter chill tinged the air enough that Yuta had to burrow his chin into the collar of his bomber jacket. Rather than the chatter of crickets they would have heard at that hour during summertime, the air sung with the hush of breeze rustling the pines and the distant break of ocean waves. Yuta thought bittersweetly about how the next time he’d see Mark for an extended time, the crickets would be back.

“Sorry for all the prying,” Yuta grumbled as the two made their way to the little pedestrian suspension bridge over the river on the edge of town. The river led to the ocean eventually, but inland, it felt thin and closed-off all the same. This bridge passing over it was one of Yuta and Mark’s favorite spots to sit and chat late at night without anyone hearing. In fact, it was that type of spot for most of the town’s young residents.

“Don’t be,” Mark said jovially, kicking his feet leisurely as he walked. “I expect it at this point. Bet you remember what that’s like.”

Yuta nodded. He did.

“You know,” Mark began, “it’s actually sorta calming to get the same questions over and over again. Cuz like, for some reason I keep getting really stressed out when I come home. I don’t know why…It’s kind of annoying.”

Yuta pointed at Mark in recognition as he chimed in. “No – I know exactly what you mean. I used to get that too. Remember when I had that panic attack?”

Mark nodded. “Oooh yeah, man, I do. You were calling me at like two in the morning and you sounded like you were crying. I had no idea what you were on about. But I guess now I understand more.”

Yuta smiled to himself as the sound of the river added its own particular hush to the mix of natural noises. He tried not to take too much comfort in the idea that his friend was now suffering the same way he had. At least it was a pretty privileged form of suffering…

Yuta took a deep breath, looking up and trying to find stars in the hazy dark sky.

“My mom calls it liminality. She says it's natural to feel spiritually detached at times of transition. It’s like your identity is thrown into flux and it can be hard to balance your competing selves all at once. You’ve got your independent college self and my little Markie boy who lives with his parents and can’t drive.” At this, Yuta grabbed Mark and tried to give him a noogie. “I think that’s what’s stressing you out. Might do you some good to recognize it and hear it verbalized.”

Mark laughed. They were approaching the entrance to the bridge. “I guess that makes sense. I – wait.”

Yuta took a second to register that Mark had cut himself off and stopped walking. He was staring into the distance towards the bridge, so Yuta followed his gaze. He blinked a few times in the dark, but once his vision focused, he noticed what Mark had been looking at: a dark lump in the center of the suspended walkway. It seemed to be moving – writhing almost – and Mark placed a finger over his mouth to indicate they should be silent. Little groans and giggles emanated from the wiggly lump over the rush of the water. It was a person – no – people.

Yuta felt himself about to start laughing, and he didn’t want to disrupt whatever moment was going on in front of them, so he grabbed Mark’s arm and hauled him away, running back towards their houses and cracking up the minute they thought they were out of earshot.

Mark tried to catch his breath from all the exertion. “Were, were they –”

“Fucking?” Yuta finished for him. “Yeah, I think so.”

Mark leaned over his knees. It was the same position Yuta had used several times in the last day to combat his lung issue. “Shit, man,” he said. “I was not expecting that.”

Yuta shook his head in disbelief. “Me neither. Here; on that note, let’s get you home. The Lees deserve their son back.”

“Sounds good. That’s enough excitement for one night.”

***

Yuta tiptoed back into the kitchen before going to the barn to sleep, opening the fridge to sneak another few bites of the raspberry meringue cake his mom had bought on a whim from the Seos while shopping for dinner.

Her voice in the dark startled him so badly that he jolted against the refrigerator shelving, rattling a whole row of bottled drinks and sauces and causing a racket.

“Holy shit, mom, you’re going to kill me,” he said, holding a hand against his chest like a 19th century gentlewoman.

“Come to the living room with me, Yuta,” she said, bypassing his griping.

Yuta gulped, following his mother’s directions until he was sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of her lounge chair.

“Didn’t I tell you I’d notice if you blew off my instructions?” she asked, sipping from a cup of tea. It smelled like chamomile and it was making Yuta sleepy.

“I know,” he said, “but I was with Mark all day and I didn’t want it to be weird for him while I like, went off into a corner to ruminate on my inner demons or whatever. I was still gonna do it. Also, I drank the potion you gave me.”

“I understand Yuta,” she said, cutting him off before he could spew any more excuses, “but you’re going to do it right now. I want you to feel better.”

“I already do feel a little better,” Yuta said, though he knew he was lying. His mom knew it too, because she gave him a skeptical sideways glance.

“You looked like you were holding in a coughing spell all through dinner,” she informed him. Had he? Yikes… “So, close your eyes.”

Yuta knew how this was going to go, but still, he let his mom lead him through breathing and visualization, focusing on tracking and changing the color and temperature of his internal energy as it passed through each of his limbs, his gut, hit neck and shoulders, his head, and finally, to his lungs. He tried to pull air in until it touched the extremity of them, boundaries of his body going fuzzy in concentration, but it was difficult for him; shaky almost.

His mother’s voice floated into his consciousness, instructing him to imagine the hollow of his mind and let thoughts begin to trickle in without obstruction; to let them come and go without judgement.

He thought of what Mark had been saying on their walk and how it resonated with his own experiences, how it frustrated him that he could never quite recreate the comfort of his and Mark’s dynamic when he visited him at school and they were with all Mark’s first year friends (at least Kun and Jaehyun were around at times, but still). He thought about how weird it felt for all his friends to be scattered around. Mostly though, he thought about the strange burning tightness that had been threatening to cut off his air supply over the last day whenever he dwelled too much on thoughts of his best friend, on observing him, on feeling lucky to know him.

Next thing he knew, he was coughing aggressively again, dragging in empty breaths whenever his throat gave him a break from its violent convulsing. The metal wires felt like they’d made their way into his heart. Neither his breathing nor his coughing was satisfactory though; there was still something stuck. What on earth was wrong with him?

Yuta latched back onto the sound of his mother’s voice as he calmed down and opened his eyes. She knelt next to him on the floor, rubbing over his back and knitting her brows in concern.

“Oh darling,” she cooed. “Have some tea.” He drank gladly, but this time the obstruction inside him stayed right where it was halfway down his windpipe. “It’s just as I thought. Something is blocking you off from your spiritual self.”

Yuta blinked some tears of exertion from his eyes, smirking as he returned somewhat to himself.

“You sure it’s not just my sarcasm?” he joked, and his mom scowled.

“Well, that’s certainly not helping,” she said. She kissed his forehead and pulled away to find her tarot deck. “But I am proud that you took that seriously. It obviously stirred something. Let me do a quick reading for you and then we can both get to bed.”

Yuta waited as she set up the deck and drew a six of cups, reversed. He sighed. Intense nostalgia; feeling caught in the past or with a past self. That much was obvious.

Yuta’s mother smiled at him softly. “Whatever this is, it’s holding you hostage in memories and longing.” He nodded, remembering his earlier conversation with Mark where they couldn’t seem to stop dwelling on an idealized highlight reel of teenage shenanigans. Right. “Do you want to talk about it now?”

“Not really.” Yuta yawned. He didn’t know if it was because he was actually tired or because he wanted this to wrap up.

Mrs. Nakamoto started packing her cards back up. “That’s alright. You should get some sleep anyway. Good night, dear.”

“G’night.”

***

Yuta gave back into coughing the minute he’d crossed the threshold to his room. He ran to the small trashcan next to his desk, still full of bottles from the night before, and heaved into it so hard he thought his eyes might pop out. Finally though, he had a twinge of relief when the thing that had been caught in his airway materialized on his tongue and his trachea cleared fully for the first time all day. He reached into his mouth and plucked out the offending object, holding it between his fingers over the trash. It was long and yellow and smooth, shaped like the wooden paddles Donghyuck’s ice cream shop gives out for testers.

A horrifying thought crossed Yuta’s mind as he rolled the delicate yellow petal softly between his fingers, watching it disintegrate under his touch and the acid of his saliva. He turned to the bouquet on the coffee table to his left, shivering as he caught a glimpse of the sunny yellow rays of petals adorning each of the three baby sunflowers in the vase. His heart dropped into his feet.

Of course.

23 notes · View notes

galaxysedginess · 4 years

Text

The Lawful

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Bo-Katan Kryze & Satine Kryze

Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Satine Kryze, Anakin Skywalker, Darth Maul, Bo-Katan Kryze, Ursa Wren

Additional Tags: Satine Kryze Lives, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s05e16 The Lawless, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Near Death Experiences, Romance, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Questioning the Code

Ao3 Link

“Attachment, Rang a pesky voice in his head. He was unsure whom it precisely belonged to, but for that matter of seconds, as he drank in the sight of seeing and feeling her alive, he shoved away his doubts."

Or, what if Anakin came along to rescue the Duchess of Mandalore?

The blood was pounding in Obi-Wan Kenobi’s ears as they bounded by means of jetpack through the skies of Sundari, smoke and blaster bolts streaking the once pale beautiful horizon. Not for the first time since their capture and subsequent escape, he wished he still donned the Mandalorian helmet that he’d “borrowed” earlier. He rapidly blinked, trying his best to avoid running into one of Mandalore’s grandstanding skyscrapers or any of the ex-Death Watch warriors that escorted him. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure which would be worse.

As Bo-Katan narrowly avoided collision after Obi-Wan had veered a bit too far to the right in attempting to evade shrapnel from another explosion, he deduced from her clipped tone that he may have better luck with the former as opposed to the ladder.

“Watch it, Jetii .”

“A bit tough to do with the change of scenery.” He countered back, managing a level tone despite the twist in his gut at seeing the seemingly utopian landscape reduced to yet another war.

The part of him that would normally take the moment to question the Death Watch’s motives was subdued by the situation at hand, which seemed to position them as allies in a turn of fate. Thank the force for that, because had it not been for their intervention, this would not have gone nearly as smoothly as he would have liked.

A blaster cannon soared from behind them, barely missing in part due to Bo-Katan’s unwavering determination to whip them every which way to shake off the enemy. He was grateful for it, but that didn’t stop the grimace that rose in his throat as they barrel rolled yet again.

He really hated flying.

He forced his eyes to remain forward and called on the living force to guide them through the despair, pulling from the light. He had to admit that it was difficult, surrounded by such destruction. Beneath them, a hospital was destroyed. To their left, a school and onwards, a market place. All were casualties in a needless fight that was orchestrated from the bloodthirsty dark side.

Who could want any of this?

If there was one thing Obi-Wan had learned through the countless tragedies from the Clone Wars, was that maybe, there was no such thing as true peace. Not the lasting kind, anyway.

Despite the chaos and mayhem that quite literally engulfed them in their haphazard attempt at an escape, topped off with Maul’s squadron of Mandalorians in tow, he still couldn’t find it in himself to wholly believe that. Not when there was still a chance.

Not when even through the smoke and the blood that polluted the once regulated airflow, he could make out the distinct and faint scent of water lilies brushing against his nose. Regardless of her several days of encampment and near-death, Duchess Satine Kryze still clutched onto him with the strength of a stubborn Tooka cat on its favorite scratching post, even if properly strapped to him prior. Obi-Wan could hardly blame her though, seeing as he was also determined to not allow something as frivolous as a faulty harness to be the cause of Satine’s demise.

Not when it seemed far too achingly close just minutes before.

He didn’t so much as have a moment to consider if she was truly alright, but he guessed that time would have to be for later. They had to move .

“Kenobi! Up ahead!” Ursa Wren shouted above the sounds of blaster fire from the treacherous crimson-colored warriors at their tails.

He did not need to see the ship to know that Anakin was close, the warm bond that had been kindled and strengthened after years of training. It felt a bit like a light at the end of a dreary tunnel. Anakin had not been keen on Obi-Wan’s direct orders to stick with the ship, but he’d hesitantly relented after it had become obvious, try as he might to deny it as he may, this was personal for Obi-Wan.

He would not be dragging Anakin or anyone else down with him on this mission.

However, in this present moment, when all he could taste was smoke and stray wind-beaten blonde hair, he was relieved for his former apprentice’s decision to stow-away (even if it had caused him grief earlier). The ship was beaten to a pulp, but it looked like in Obi-Wan’s absence, Anakin had made some modifications to it.

“Always on the move.” He internally chided, but again, could not stop the flush of elation that permeated across his chest, freeing some of the tension that had been knotted there ever since he first received Satine’s distress call.

That reprieve, unfortunately, was instantaneously cut loose when he felt himself whipped backwards and away from the ship that they were heading towards. Bo-Katan turned, mid-air and despite not being able to see her facial expression thanks to the mask on her head, he knew what she saw was far from good.

“Leaving so soon?” A raspy familiar voice shouted from behind them and Obi-Wan cursed.

He cocked his head over his shoulder, noting that none other than Maul stood on top of a speeder, darksaber drawn and ready, two of his faithful warriors at his side. His eyes perfectly matched the roaring fires that burned behind him. Obi-Wan did his best to shield Satine from seeing him, squeezing her tighter to his chest.

“You should know about running away.” He goaded, though Bo-Katan grunted in disapproval at his banter.

“You cannot run from destiny, Kenobi.” He said almost softly, gritting his yellow teeth as he stretched out in the force to attempt to pull them in as though they were caught in a ship’s tractor beam. “I have taken your master and now, I will have your beloved too.”

Obi-Wan resisted to his best ability without dropping Satine, placing them in what felt like a reverberated limbo, dangling above her people who cried for help as their newly “pledged” leader strove only for his own gains, which evidently included making Obi-Wan’s life as difficult and miserable as possible. On one end, there was victory in the form of retreat, with the engines running the promise for what would hopefully be a new tomorrow for Mandalore and its people. On the other, a painful and torturous end.

The aching in his bones and muscles said otherwise, but he knew, deep in his soul that this wasn’t the end.

He meant it earlier when he’d insisted it took strength to resist the dark side and he hadn’t just meant from the moral standpoint of pushing against darkness, but the sheer physicality of warding off Maul’s strangling grasp. Slowly, but surely, the jetpack began inching forward yet again and Maul released an infuriated scream, no doubt channeling the deepest of anguish to overpower Obi-Wan.

“But you won’t have Mandalore.” Came Bo-Katan’s grated voice, not muddled with resignation, but resolve, as she and her fellow “deserters” charged forward in an attack sequence that was clearly rehearsed beforehand.

“Bo!” Satine’s voice broke through the disarray for the first time in anguish.

“GET HER OUT OF HERE!” Bo-Katan shouted with only a single glance backwards before throwing herself directly in front of Maul and his readied blade. She parried him, prepared for the strike, but it was unclear how long even someone as strong as herself could hold off against the former Sith lord.

Cold realization settled in to Obi-Wan as he felt Satine’s pain through the force. This was her sister.

Once again, he regretfully didn’t have time to ponder this news. Maul’s cronies, dead set on appeasing their new leader, shot skillfully at Obi-Wan, and managed to scuff the left turbine engine, sending sparks as he and Satine briefly wavered. There was a single second where time passed terribly slow until Obi-Wan used everything left in him to push them forward through the force, throttling through the small entryway of the ship and skitting to an ungraceful landing across the durasteel floor of the ship. He didn’t release the breath he’d unknowingly been holding until the thrum of the ship indicated that it had launched into deep space.

They laid there for an uncertain amount of time before the shock of their own escape settled into their bones. It was Satine, who raised her head first, looking fearful at what she might find in his gaze, but for once, he did not hesitate or subdue himself when he reached forward and framed her face in his gloved hands.

Her alabaster skin was dusted in soot and her eyes were bloodshot from exhaustion and immense sadness, making the intensity of their azure depths all the more captivating. He couldn’t remember last seeing her hair absent of any regality or so wind-swept, but the image reminded him painfully of a different time when Mandalore had been on the brink of swallowing itself whole and when they’d stolen glances and held hands beneath a shared cloak. Except this time, he came so narrowly close to losing her, that the weight of that guilt nearly crushed him.

“Attachment .” Rang a pesky voice in his head. He was unsure whom it precisely belonged to, but for that matter of seconds, as he drank in the sight of seeing and feeling her alive he shoved away his doubts.

She was alive. Right here in front of him. Closer than she’d been in years.

He also had to force away thoughts of when he’d last held her.

She opened her mouth to speak before closing it, taking in his face with her eyes with the same line of reverence that he felt.

“I’ve loved you always. I always will.” She’d said that. Those had been her chosen final words and he winced at how little he deserved them. How he didn’t deserve her or this moment of reprieve.

At the reminder of her close-call, he perked up instantly, feeling a bit ridiculous not to have immediately addressed her wounds.

“The darksaber.” Was all he could blurt out as he tenderly inspected the patch of exposed skin on her torso.

“It’s just a graze.” Was all she said in a hoarse voice, eyes still glued to his face as she reached out and smoothed what would likely become a scathing bruise across his cheekbone.

“A bump.” He said gently and held the hand that touched his cheek, feeling queasily reminiscent of when he believed for a moment that she was to die in his arms. She had literally met the blunt of the darksaber and yet she could only think of him. Both were of equal standing in terms of colloquialism, but neither were too fond of words at the moment. Obi-Wan didn’t have any for how he felt. Jedi weren’t supposed to, anyway.

Even that thought didn’t yet shake him as they still sat tangled together, simply amazed that the other was here.

“Ben.” She said gently, hardly above a whisper and the resurrection of the old nickname both tickled and pricked something soft in him that he believed had long since been put to sleep.

“Satine.” He said, trying to sound level, self-assured, but feeling none of that. “I thought…”

“I did too.” She swallowed and nodded before pressing her forehead to his. “I did too.”

“I wanted you to know-” He began speaking before his mind could catch up with him, paranoid instantly where his words would lead him without abandon, but showing no signs of stopping as he felt himself melt into her.

“-Well, don’t everyone thank me at-” A smug and approaching voice cut off surely at the sight of the uncharacteristically vulnerable scene he’d unknowingly interrupted.

“-Once.”Anakin winced as he leaned against the hanger door, shrugging in apology to Obi-Wan, who was trying very hard to give him a disapproving glance that was supposed to convey that nothing was happening, even if, Obi-Wan, himself wasn’t even sure if that were true. He just couldn’t tell whether he was grateful or wistful at his former padawan’s interference.

For Satine’s part, the bubble had been effectively popped as she straightened and stood to her feet, somehow looking regal even in the same clothes she’d worn for well over a week and with the dark circles under her eyes. There was still immense sadness there, no doubt for her people and for the sacrifice of her sister, but she’d returned to being the leader again.

“I am eternally grateful for the assist, Master Jedi.” She said in an even tone that didn’t dare suggest she’d been so close to crying.

Anakin nodded stiffly, shooting a brief glance at Obi-Wan to try and get a better read on the room before deciding it was best not to pry too much… Yet.

Obi-Wan grimaced as he knew what unrelenting teasing was heading his way once they were out of harm’s way.

“We’ll get you to safety, Duchess.” He said kindly. “You can count on us.”

She seemed to bristle at that and Obi-Wan could see the argument forming on her tongue about how cowardly she was being or that her safety would be a price she was more than willing to pay for her people. However, she swallowed them and nodded curtly instead. The exhaustion seemed to weigh on her for the first time as well as real dread. He wanted to probe for more, to try and help, but he knew this wasn’t the time. Satine would need and want space, which he would certainly give her.

He would also do everything in his power to get Mandalore back for her again. For the galaxy. Surely, that’s why.

“Yes, I can.” She finally said smoothly, sneaking a look at Obi-Wan that made him question for the millionth time in knowing her if she could read his mind.

And as Anakin retreated back to the cockpit and implored Obi-Wan to follow to discuss what half-truths they would tell the council as to why they broke rank to rescue Satine, Obi-Wan knew he was lying to himself.

#Star Wars #Obitine #tcw #Obi-Wan Kenobi #Satine Kryze #myfics #The Lawless #fanfic #swtcw

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bytheangell · 4 years

Text

A Heavy Leaf to Turn

(Read on AO3) (tw: self confidence issues, weight gain, canon-compliant self destructive behaviors)

It starts with a comment meant in good fun, just a passing quip during a sparring session about Alec’s new lifestyle making him soft with a tap to his stomach with the staff for emphasis, but it’s enough. Alec isn’t one to fixate on his appearance, barely sparing it a passing thought on a day to day basis. But now that he sees it when he looks in the mirror after training - not just in his stomach but in his face, and a few other places, too - there’s no denying that between his home life and shift to more desk work at the Institute he’s definitely started to put on weight.

Is that what everyone thinks about him? That the desk job is making him weak? That he’s not up to par the way he was just a few months ago?

He shakes it off and tells himself he doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter - he’s still in great shape, can still hold his own in the field, he still got where he is because he’s one of the best. Everything’s fine.

...until he starts subconsciously slipping back into his old habits.

---

Jace can practically feel the weight start to lift off of his parabatai’s soul more and more every day. Alec was never meant to be a warrior. Sure, he’s good at it. Hell, he’s one of the best, especially when you put that bow in his hands. But Alec never took any real joy out of the hunt, out of a violent life full of chaos and bloodshed. He did it because it was expected of him - and now that something entirely different is expected of him, something he’s far more suited to, he’s happier than Jace has ever seen him.

This is Alec’s strength: being a leader, making changes in a broken system, paving the way for others like him, he’s not only still playing a huge role as a Shadowhunter but he’s making even more of an impact now than he ever would have in the field. This isn’t just what’s best for Alec, it’s what’s best for the Shadow World as a whole, of that Jace has no doubt.

Even without their bond it’s easy enough to see that Alec feels truly happy, safe, and loved. It’s all of these things that allow him to grow more comfortable in his own skin. Quite literally: Alec goes from concerningly lean, a clear sign of the overexercising Alec used to resort to daily, to a much healthier weight in the months following his wedding. Jace never makes a joke about the weight Alec starts to put on because he sees it for what it is: recovery. This is Alec getting better, and he’ll be damned if one of his usual smart-ass remarks is what sets him off again.

Instead Jace makes sure Alec still trains with him when he can, makes sure he goes on a patrol or two to stay involved even if he’s spending most of his time behind a desk now, just so he doesn't feel too cooped up or start to go a little stir crazy. He provides the balance Alec needs between his old habits and the new ones he probably doesn’t even realize he’s forming. And Jace doesn’t even have to let Alec win - Alec can still kick his ass half the time without even trying.

Jace is also in the training room the day one of the other Shadowhunters jokes about Alec’s weight, and it takes all of his self control not to toss the seraph blade in his hands straight at the guy’s mouth to shut him up. It’s difficult not to react when he looks at Alec and immediately sees the way Alec looks down with that flash of awareness, the way Jace can see him pull his stomach muscles tighter in response, the glance towards his discarded shirt as Alec debates putting it back on.

Yeah, Jace is pretty sure he deserves a freaking medal for not murdering the guy on the spot, but instead he goes up to the two of them with a casual smile.

“Hey, mind if I tap in? It’s been awhile since I got to kick my parabatai’s ass,” Jace jokes, and the other guy leaves without question.

Alec gives Jace a look like he knows exactly what he’s doing but says nothing, and instead wastes no time lunging forward on the attack. He’s glad to see Alec relax a little more around him, but not completely, which is never a good sign.

“You alright? You seem a little off today,” Jace asks, not wanting to bring up the comment but hoping Alec will.

“I’m good,” is all Alec says before leaving.

Jace hopes he’s telling the truth.

---

Magnus starts to notice immediately. Of course he’s aware of his husband’s weight gain given just how often his hands (among other parts of him) come into contact with Alec’s body on a daily basis, but given the life Alec previously lead it’s certainly a good change to see. Alec is a far cry from the person he was when they first met - a person who punished himself physically to distract from a number of other problems in his life - and Magnus likes to think he had a pretty large role to play in the transition.

It’s no secret that Magnus disapproves of many aspects of Shadowhunter culture - their desire to sacrifice oneself for the perceived ‘greater good’ is one among many of those. Magnus watched Alec hide a number of self-destructive habits under the cover of those twisted values, and then watched Alec slowly, almost painstakingly, break away from that mindset. The fact that Alec hasn’t resorted to any of his old coping mechanisms lately is something that Magnus is grateful for, especially since he knows the sort of uphill battle overcoming self-destructive habits can be.

So what if Alec puts on a few extra pounds in the process? It’s the healthiest he’s seen Alec since they met, and honestly, Magnus finds him more attractive now than ever before. Though it never comes up Magnus is convinced that Alec has to have noticed by now as well and simply recognizes it as the nonissue it is.

Which obviously isn’t the case, he now realizes. Magnus can tell the exact day Alec becomes aware of it without any knowledge of what happened at the Institute. That night Alec is self-conscious the moment their clothes are off, something he hasn’t been in quite some time, and Magnus can feel the muscles tense and Alec’s entire body shift away at the trail of lingering kisses Magnus leaves down his stomach. However vocally willing and agreeable Alec is, there’s some lingering reservation he isn’t admitting, Magnus can tell, and isn’t surprised at how eagerly Alec agrees to his suggestion they call it a night instead of going any further.

When Alec leaves early the next morning, skipping the breakfast they had planned to go on a run instead, Magnus wonders if he should be worried; when Alec starts coming home from the Institute later and leaving early every morning, Magnus knows the answer is yes.

---

Isabelle catches onto the shift as well. Ever since the wedding Alec’s been happier, like, all of the time. It’s a good look for him - he’s spending a little more time behind the desk, sure but that’s where he needs to be right now. With rumors of him being up for Inquisitor there’s no need to be putting his life needlessly in danger on routine missions that any of them can handle, not while he’s Head of the Institute. Isabelle and Jace both agree to take on a few more roles around the Institute to make sure Alec isn’t the one pulling all nighters covering new trainees or short-staffed patrols.

The bags around her brother’s eyes start to fade, replaced by a light and a sparkle that she can’t remember ever seeing so consistently. She doesn’t mind the extra work if it means giving her big brother a bit of a break - he certainly deserves one after everything he’s been through lately, and she’s just so thrilled to see him so relaxed that she’d give up anything if it meant he’d get to be this content forever. It’s all she’s ever wanted for him - it’s all she’s ever wanted for anyone she cares about - and after all the time she spent worried he’d never find this sort of peace she’s determined to do whatever it takes to make sure he gets to keep it.

And then, practically overnight, something changes. Alec starts putting himself on extra assignments, unnecessary ones, and staying out later each night. There are plenty of other people to go instead but he volunteers anyway and by the time his paperwork is done at the end of the night he’s half asleep on his desk.

She can read the signs - he starts wearing baggier clothing, training in the stifling heat with a hoodie on, and even starts to shy away from some of her hugs depending on his mood. She understands - going from a constantly active life to one that’s more paper work than field work has to be rough, especially for someone who was literally conditioned for it from birth - but she also refuses to stand for it. She hugs harder, compliments him constantly, and even tries to convince him to go shopping with her so she can pick out some new outfits that will suit his current physique better. Anything to keep him from going back to the way things used to be. And after a while he seems to accept that this can work, too, he just has to get used to it.

After a few days of this Isabelle stops him in the middle of gearing up for yet another patrol. “I’m on this one. You go home and get some rest.”

“I’m fine,” Alec insists, not even pausing.

“Alec, please-”

“I said I’m fine, Iz. Really. You can wrap up that autopsy report from earlier and head out, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Isabelle watches him leave with a frown, not sure what she can do to make this better and certain Alec wouldn’t let her intervene even if she did.

---

Maryse doesn’t see Alec as often as she’d like to, but the pair of them have been keeping up a once-a-week dinner so long as no emergencies pop up. This week is no different, except she can tell the entire way through that something is on his mind - he looks exhausted, like he’s been losing sleep, and it’s a look she knows well on him even if she hasn’t seen it in a while. Almost immediately about a dozen red flags go up.

The last time she saw him this bothered by something was the day he gave the Lightwood family ring back to her after his plan to propose to Magnus didn’t work out. Maryse can’t honestly say that she’s always held the most traditional of motherly values for her children - raising trained warriors puts a different spin on things than a mundane upbringing - but recent developments in all of their lives has shifted the way she looks at things now.

Things like the prioritizing of her children’s happiness over normal Shadowhunter measurements of success. And right now she can see that Alec isn’t happy, not the way he has been lately.

She doesn’t pry it out of him, and instead waits patiently, making small talk about their weeks until Alec finally puts his fork down over his barely touched meal and asks:

“Do you think I’m getting lazy?”

Maryse could laugh at how absurd the question is, but knows he means it. The gaze he locks on her is serious and troubled.

“Absolutely not. Why on earth would you think that?” She says instead.

“You haven’t heard anyone saying anything about… I dunno. How much time I spend in the office? I barely go on missions, my patrols have cut in half... and it’s great to have more time to spend with Magnus, don’t get me wrong, but even that… I’ve become so stagnant I’m actually gaining weight. I haven’t gained weight since I stopped getting taller!” He shakes his head in clear exasperation. “I just feel like I’m slipping up, like I should be doing more.”

“Is that why you spent all week pulling extra shifts?” She asks, remembering earlier when his recount of the week seemed much more intense than it had the past few months.

“Maybe,” Alec admits reluctantly. “I thought I could try to go back to full active duty, and just keep up with the paperwork at night. If I could pick up patrols and training the way I used to then maybe I could-”

“Go back to being as miserable as you used to be, too?” Maryse cuts him off, and Alec’s words fall short as his eyes widen in surprise.

“What?” She continues in that ‘I’m your mother and I know’ voice she knows all of her children dislike. “Before you met Magnus and decided to fight for him, before you were appointed Head of the Institute, you weren’t happy. You did all of those things out of obligation, because you felt like you had to in order to prove yourself. You weren’t doing them for you or because you wanted to. You hated that life. And I bet you’ve been miserable all week trying to go back to it.”

She watches the expression on Alec’s face shift through a series of emotions the longer he thinks over her words. “So you don’t think I’m slacking off?”

“I think you have to realize there’s a difference between being complacent and being comfortable, Alec. You’re finally comfortable, with a man you love, doing a job you love. I’ve never been more proud of you. You don’t have to push yourself to exhaustion 24/7 to be successful - the past few months are testament enough to that. And I’m sorry if I was ever a part of making you think that had to be the case.”

She stops there, watching his expression and waiting for him to really hear what she’s saying to him because this is important. She doesn’t want him to ever feel like he has to go back to the way things were before, not after all the progress he’s made in spite of everything stacked against him. She didn’t know it then but she realizes now how unhappy he was, and she never wants to play a role in that ever again now that she does.

“Thanks, Mom,” Alec says before going back to his dinner, and she can already see some of that burden lift off of him, some of the spark return to his eyes, and knows he’s going to be okay.

---

It’s 2 am when Alec gets back to the loft. Magnus knows because despite Alec’s attempt to sneak in Magnus is waiting up for him, awake and sitting on the sofa in the living room.

“I told you not to wait up for me,” Alec says, but even as the words leave his lips he makes his way straight to Magnus, sitting down next to him and settling in against the soft silk of the robe Magnus has on. It’s almost enough for Magnus to decide to push off the conversation he planned on having in favor of snuggling with Alec on the sofa, but he can’t. It’s too important.

“I was worried. This past week-” Magnus starts, but doesn’t get much further before Alec cuts him off.

“I know,” Alec admits, surprising him. There’s no stalling, no deflecting, no making excuses and saying he’s fine… nothing Magnus mentally prepared to hear. “I’m sorry. Someone at the Institute made a comment the other day and I guess I psyched myself out a little over it.”

Magnus nods. “And how are you feeling about it now?”

It’s a specially crafted patience Magnus tries to show Alec whenever possible, no matter the situation. Even now Magnus doesn’t ask what the comment was, or demand to know why Alec didn’t bring it up sooner - he just wants to know how Alec’s doing here and now, to make sure he’s alright.

“Better,” Alec admits, shifting to face Magnus as he answers. “It just hit me all at once how much I changed these past few months and I was afraid - I don’t know what I was afraid of, really. That people thought I wasn’t as good of a Shadowhunter any more? That I wasn’t trying hard enough now that I’m the Institute Head?”

“Your life has changed a great deal lately, and that sort of shift takes time to adjust to. But I remember when I first met you at the Institute; it wasn’t healthy, mentally or physically, the way you were living. Any changes you’ve made lately have been for the better,” Magnus insists.

“I can see that now,” Alec says. “I had a little chat with my mother earlier and she put a few things into perspective for me.”

“Good,” Magnus says, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Then I suppose I can spare you the lecture, so long as you’re sure you’re alright.”

“I think I am,” Alec agrees. “At least about all of the job-related things. But…” Alec starts, then trails off again. Magnus can tell he’s feeling self-conscious about whatever it is he wants to say.

“But…?” Magnus encourages.

“Nothing. Never mind, it’s stupid,” Alec immediately attempts to take back.

“Nothing that bothers you, especially this much, is stupid. Talk to me, dear,” Magnus insists, reaching out to take Alec’s hands in his own, the warmth of them an immediate comfort.

“It’s just… You don’t mind... I mean, I’m sure you’ve noticed-” Alec gestures vaguely, stalling.

“That you gained a little weight?” Magnus finishes for him, not in an ‘obviously’ sort of way, but more of a ‘mercy-fill-in-the-blank’ that Alec was probably never going to manage to say himself.

“Yeah,” Alec confirms, frowning again.

Magnus laughs. “Alexander, while your abs are, I’ll admit, a very pleasing aspect of your physique - they’re hardly the reason I’m with you. You could gain a hundred pounds and I’d still love you just the same. Though for the record you are still objectively and entirely unbiasedly the most attractive person in my world. In fact, I’d love nothing more than to show you just how much I appreciate your body when we’ve finished this conversation.”

“Yeah?” Alec practically sighs in relief.

“Of course. Your worth isn’t tied to how many hours you spend on patrol, or a number on a scale. You’re working harder than ever to make a difference in this world and that is what I love you for - more than I could possibly put into words. And if you ever doubt that again I’ll be right here to remind you, each and every time.” Magnus makes sure to look Alec in the eyes as he speaks, not allowing any room for doubt that every word is sincere. He needs to know that Alec doesn’t just hear the words, but believes them, too.

Alec holds his gaze and nods. A moment later he’s leaning back against Magnus’ shoulder again, the world settling back into place around them. They take a few minutes to simply exist, comfortable in the silence between them. Magnus lifts a hand to idly play with a few strands of Alec’s hair, pressing a soft kiss onto the crown of Alec’s head, until Alec finally breaks the silence.

“I know what you said about… appreciation earlier,” Alec starts slowly. “But could we take a rain-check until tomorrow? It’s been a long week, and honestly, I’m exhausted. All I want right now is a shower and about a week’s worth of sleep.”

“I can’t help with the missed sleep,” Magnus admits. “But the shower and bedtime cuddles I can do.”

With a wave of his hand the previously quiet apartment is filled with the distant noise of the shower turning on, water beginning to run so it’ll be warm by the time Alec gets there. It’s a small, simple gesture, but one that Magnus knows doesn’t go unappreciated, especially during moments like these.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Alec sighs happily. “But I’m glad I don’t have to find out.”

“Me too, darling,” Magnus agrees softly. “Me too.”

#malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #shadowhunters #jace herondale #isabelle lightwood #maryse lightwood #long post #an idea i had for a while that didn't turn out quite the way i planned #but i hope you like the end result!#it wasn't meant to have angst but this is who i am as a person #elle writes a few deadbeat lines

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motleycrueimagine · 5 years

Text

This Ain’t a Love Song - Part Seven - Nixxi Sixx Fan Fiction

Words: 2664

Warnings: Language, alcol, drugs, soft smut

N/A: I’m really sorry for the delay, I finally moved and it has been really hard to find time to write something decent. I let you read now, as always taglist is open and feedbacks are really appreciated. xx

Huge thanks to @blonde-shamrock

Summary:

Maya Prescott has done anything possible to fix her life. It was 1977 when she left her groupie life: no more parties, no more concerts, no more drugs, alcohol or casual sex, just to achieve a full standard life. Now it’s 1981 and after a four years disappearance Maya Prescott unexpectedly shows up to the party of one of the most promising emerging bands of the LA’s rock’n roll scene: Motley Crue. But what should be her last ride is destined to change her life in so many unexpected ways.

TagList: @motleycrueee @babygal-babygal@unknownoblivion @sweetshutter

Masterlist

Maya’s POV

I was awakened by a gentle touch at the height of my hips. It took me a few seconds to realize what was happening; in a tangle of sheets and legs I noticed I was almost completely lying on Nikki. Still asleep and not very alert, I went along with his movement, trying to move me back to my side of the bed.

“Sorry…” I yawned passing a hand over my eyes.

“No stay here, I just had your elbow stuck in my ribcage…” the bassist explained to me and kept me from going further.

“I am not a spoon-cuddler, especially after a night of just sleeping,” I muttered looking for a semblance of personal space. I went back to give him my shoulders ready to go back to sleep.

“Let’s fuck then, so that we can cuddle and keep being socially acceptable.” I felt his fingers gently trace the profile of my spine, then climb up my side to the edge of my thong. That simple touch was enough to shake my self-control, in an instant I found myself imagining what it would be like to feel his hands wandering fearlessly over my naked body.

I turned my head just enough to see his profile beyond my shoulder; he must had taken my look as an invitation to go on because he moved my dark hair to get better access to my skin and start depositing kisses on my shoulder.

His hand had risen up to my belly to hold me and to intensify the contact between our bodies. Now my imagination was sailing towards not-so-chaste thoughts. He suddenly let go allowing me to turn around and to find him on top of me, with a triumphant smile, hair more messed up than usual. We rushed into one another lips and although the delicacy of that kiss was non-existent our bodies kept touching as if for one moment to the other one could break. My fingers were touching his neck, and through his skin I could feel his pulse accelerating. The part of me that wanted to stop him gave up at the exact moment when his fingers touched the subtle fabric of my underwear. A sigh was suffocated by the insistence of his mouth.

His fingertips were a sweet torture as they rubbed my clit on top of the fabric, I could feel my body tensing up already with impatience.

“You have no idea how damned you made me, Maya,” he murmured between a kiss whilst expertly shifting the fabric just enough to gain access to my centre. One of his fingers slipped into me and started to move in a slow peace. He had stopped kissing me, and was now just watching my lips part as he added another finger.

I could not formulate a response in that moment, I was afraid that me saying something would have brought me back to reality, because even though I wanted him now so fucking bad, I knew that by the moment I walked out of that door I would have regretted it for the rest of my life. I pulled up a little bit just enough to allow our mouths to engage in a rough, messy kiss, lasting only a few instants before he got back kissing my neck.

His bites made me silently moan while my hands reached for his erection to massage it following the rhythm dictated from his fingers.

“I want you to fuck me Nikki…” I was finally able to say. He bit me again with a hoarse groan, causing me a sweet pain I would be cursing him for over the next couple days. His fingers slipped out of me.

“I was only waiting for you to ask me, babe,” he said getting up to pull away my thong in a haste. He leaned back on me and while kissing me softly he entered in me, in the same exact moment in which Tommy decided to join us in the room.

“Sixx do you kn… oh shit. sorry. Sorry! I… I haven’t seen anything, I swear!” Tommy started rambling covering his eyes with a hand.

“Shit,” I exclaimed grabbing the covers to hide my modesty, sliding away from the bassist.

“What the fuck! What part of knocking is not clear?!” Nikki looked really mad.

“Sorry sorry sorry!” Tommy literally ran out the door, and probably went away to hide, leaving us alone again in an embarrassing silence. We stayed there, lying on our backs for a few seconds, avoiding each other’s eyes. Finally, I found the strength to get up and look for my stuff.

“Wait are you going for real?” Nikki asked pointing his elbows on the mattress.

“Well, the atmosphere is gone and plus you caught me in a moment of weakness, so…” I avoided his gaze finding my dress on the ground.

“So you’re just going to leave me here with a boner?” he asked, finally I turned to look at him. A little grin appeared on my lips.

“When you’re done jerking off, I’ll be in the kitchen with some coffee.” And as I said so I left the room.

*one week later*

I was singing along to Rick Springfield’s Jessie’s girl while organizing some new records that had been delivered that same morning. I had been working as a salesgirl at Remington Records for two years now and I considered it as my main job. It was a small music shop just a few blocks away from the Sunset Boulevard. Music was always playing out loud, the walls cluttered with signed pictures of bands that were yet to be discovered - Peter, the owner, collected ‘em in the hope of them gaining popularity, but by now he could count the ones who made it on just one hand.

Peter Remington Jr had inherited the shop from his father, and now he was patiently waiting for his son Jude to give up his dreams on a music career to go on with the family business.

“Do you need help, May?” Jude emerged from the back, walking towards me. He was the kind of guy every girl dreamed of, even with his feathered hair and chipped black nail polish he seemed like the classic boy next door. He could try to look as punk as he would but he looked too pure to be a rockstar.

“No honey I’m almost done,” I assured him while setting up the last records.

“Ya know my band is going to play at a party on Friday I was wondering if you wanted to come see us…” he queried. My eyes rose from the box to him.

“I would love to honey, but this weekend Mia will be with me, and ya know…” I lifted the empty box walking towards the counter. “Maybe next time,” I assured trying to hide the fact that it probably wasn’t gonna happen. It’s not that I didn’t support his dreams. I just wasn’t interested in following around a cover band whom members were pretty much only trying to gain popularity in order to fuck chicks was not my thing. You could hear the lack of passion in their performances; they didn’t care about their music, they were not able to weigh the lyrics and to give you an experience. Order Rythm… what a shitty name. Just as Mick would say: shitty name a hundred per cent of the time shitty band.

“Oh right, how is she doing?”

“She is doing great. She’s growing up so fast and she’s…” I was interrupted by the ring of the phone.

“Remington Records, Maya speaking, how can I help you?” I answered picking up the receiver.

“Oh Maya finally! I looked for you everywhere…” it was Ruby, my colleague at the club..

“Hi honey, what’s up?” I could hear an infomercial about slimming pants in the background.

“Yeah you know that I had booked this photoshoot for my book something like two months ago? Well the photographer is A-M-A-Z-I-N-G, but I can’t really go. I was wondering if you were interested in taking my place.” I had spent the past weeks looking for a photographer on a budget without success.

“Uhm I would say yes but how much is that?” I asked. I was not willing to waste my savings for a photoshoot with a guy I didn’t even knew.

“Uhm I believe it is 600 but I already paid half of it, so you’ll have to pay 300 and give the rest to me whenever you have it.”

“I don’t know Ru, you know I’m trying to save up some.”

“Oh c’mon I’m gonna lose ‘em anyways so you don’t have to pay me right away.” A few seconds of silence followed, I was weighing up the pros and cons of the offer.

“Well… I guess I can do it. But I’ not gonna pay you if the photos sucks, deal?” If I was going to spend a whole month of rent on pictures they better be worth it.

“Deal!” she exclaimed, “Did I already tell you how much I love you?”

“It will never be enough. I gotta go, see you tonight Ru.”

*later that same night*

“Did you forgot to put on pants, sweetheart?” Vince’s voice joined me as soon as I climbed over the window, he jokingly gave me a glare of disapproval. I looked down at my micro-shorts: they were black denim with some cool leather fringes on the sides.

“Why? It would be such a shame not to show this nice booty.” I replied getting closer to him to kiss his cheek. His arm embraced my hip.

“How you doin?” he questioned, while I fixed his blonde Barbie hair behind his ear. I looked around at the party guests - as usual a ton of people was hanging in the living room.

“I’m doing great… Is that David Lee Roth?” My attention was caught by the singer who was sitting on a couch with a plate full of rails.

“It seems like everybody wants to party with us, isn’t it cool?” I nodded in response.

“Do you think he would mind if I ask him to sign my ass?” I questioned; Vince leaned back to admire my lower back once again.

“I believe it is worth a signature,” he agreed.

“Well then I’ll go get my autograph, but first lemme find Tommy, he has some stuff for me,” I grinned caressing Vince’s fluffy hair one more time before leaving. I walked through the crowded room looking for the drummer. I grabbed a beer on the way, waving at some people I knew. After wandering around the small apartment for what felt like an eternity, asking people for Tommy, a guy directed me towards Vinnie and Tommy’s room, where he was supposed to be with some chick he had met. I knocked on the door one or two times and then opened it since there was no response.

Bad choice.

“Fuck, we said we’re busy here!” a girl screamed stopping but not moving from her position, she sounded pretty mad. Laying on Tommy’s bed, underneath the red-haired girl wasn’t Tommy, instead it was Nikki.

“Shit.. I’m sorry I didn’t know” I apologized looking at the two of them. Nikki lifted his hand waving at me in a sort of awkward and embarrassed salutation, his pants pulled down to his ankles. I lifted my hand as well. “Well, sorry for interrupting, ehm… have fun,” I muttered awkwardly, closing the door behind me. Okay that was weird. I didn’t even have the time to process what had just happened as Tommy decided to show up right behind me. Fuck him.

“Where the fuck was you? I might have just experienced one of the most traumatizing moments in my entire life.”

“Oh you mean Scarlet?” Tommy let a hand go through his hair trying not to seem so amused, “That girl is wild isn’t she?” I gave him a hard look.

“I’m not interested in knowing what that girl does in bed. I’m more interested in the special snow you promised me.” I switched subject for the sake of my mental stability.

The drummer puffed sliding a hand in his pocket “Well May-May you know I always keep my promises.” He handed me a bag full of white dust.

“Is this for real?” I asked over excited while opening it and picking up some with my red painted nail. Tommy nodded looking at me while I snorted the little quantity of dust, the party was about to begin.

Nikki’s POV

I pulled up my black jeans looking at the lady that was now resting on Tommy’s bed. I couldn’t remember her name but for sure I would have remembered that she wasn’t the girl for me. Her experience and extravagance was not enough to compensate the desire to shut her up every time one of her annoyingly high pitched moans - that seemed fake as fuck- left her lips.

I fastened my belt and left the room without saying a word. Vince was right behind the door waiting for his turn.

“Third ride?” My question made him giggle like a three year old who had got caught doing something bad. He sneaked in letting me out. I fixed my hair walking calmly towards the party. Some girls were dancing to Bringin’ on the Heartbreak by Def Leppard. I looked around for some booze only being able to find a half empty beer.

An easily recognizable laugh burst through the room, mixing pleasantly with the music “Oh c’mon let me go!” I turned looking for the girl that lately was the object of my desire. Tommy was holding her wrists pulling her on the couch with him while she was playfully trying to escape. She stumbled giving up on her attempt and landing straight on the drummer’s lap.

“Oh shut up, stop it!” I moved joining the duo, taking a sip of my almost empty bottle.

Tommy stopped tickling Maya’s sides as soon as I reached ‘em.

“Oh look who is gracing us with his presence,” she greeted me fixing her leopard blouse – one sleeve had slipped down her shoulder.

“That quickie lasted a little too long, Vince was so impatient waiting for you to come out,” Tommy added letting her free.

I shrugged “It’s not my fault, she wouldn’t shut her mouth… plus she…” My explanation was interrupted by Maya.

“For how much I would like to hear about your sexual encounter, I’m gonna go,” she announced lifting a black denim jacket from under Tommy’s butt.

“C’mon May-May I told we’re going but later!” The drummer protested causing her to back off a little in order to escape from his hold.

“It’s so early, are you really going home?” It was barely one in the morning.

“I’m not going home, I just wanna buy some booze down the street, there’s nothing to drink around here.” She wore her jacket ready to leave.

“You CAN’T go outside like that all alone.” Tommy glared at her shorts.

Maya rolled her eyes “Said my father…” She was not going to give up. She was so fucking stubborn it was almost annoying.

“I’m going with her,” I volunteered finishing my beer. Her pretty pouty face suddenly lit up in a smile.

“Chivalry isn’t dead after all… Let’s go.” And with that she made her way to the window.

I followed her not knowing that the 20-minute walk was going to be more interesting than the party itself.

#Motley Crue #motley crue fanfic #motley crue fanfiction #nikki sixx fanfiction #douglas booth! nikki sixx #nikki sixx imagine #nikki sixx #vince neil imagine #vince neil fanfiction #Vince Neil #Tommy Lee #tommy lee fanfiction #tommy lee imagine #motley crue imagine #mick mars fanfic #Mick Mars #mick mars imagine

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im-a-special-bebe · 4 years

Text

Beautiful Liar

Warnings: Violence, language, Drug Lord AU

(Reposted from my AFF account)

Molly’s his adopted sister, Mary Jane’s his best friend, and HeroinE’s the pseudonym his favorite author goes by – at least that’s what he tells the outsiders. Drug Lord Chae Hyungwon has the right friends in the right places, because the ones in the wrong place at the wrong time don’t make it out. He’s got the keys to the castle and his eyes on the gold coffers. He just doesn’t expect to find a different kind of treasure.

When Hyungwon walked into his biggest rival’s grandest casino, he didn’t expect the night to include broken bottles and scraped knuckles – and he hadn’t even been kicked out yet.

When Yoon Mi Cha decided to head to her father’s main business for a drink after a rough day, she didn’t expect a hailstorm of bullets.

But as they were both about to find out, C’est La Vie.

Part 1 | Part 2 (Coming soon)

Chapter – 1: Fake People Showing Fake Love to Me

‘Another water for you, Sir?’ the smartly-dressed bartender asked politely as he wiped a glass down, though Hyungwon could feel the judgement in the man’s stare.

‘Yes. Don’t like to start the party too early.’ Or at all in this case, he thought as he managed a wry smile that turned out to be more of a grimace.

How the kingpin of an entire country’s illegal drug business had been the one to end up on a recon mission to scope out an enemy was anyone’s guess (especially since he had no clue what to look for in the first place), but Hyungwon grudgingly put that thought away for now.

He looked around the large room, a slightly disdainful expression taking over his handsome features. Yoon Moon Jae, esteemed owner of this establishment – and his primary business rival – had taken being part of the underground much too literally. Not only was the huge casino three floors below the first level, but the cavernous space was exactly that – a man-made cave, complete with exposed fake, jagged rock walls. The heavily mountainous appearance was lit up by scones of actual fire that cast flickering shadows around the hundred odd playing tables and seating areas and created an ominous aura along with contrasting chrome pendant lights. The overall effect was like stepping into a sci-fi movie.

Nonetheless, the actual centerpiece was what Hyungwon was seated beneath. A large amount of funds – gained by encroaching on his territory, no doubt – had gone to the massive chandelier that hung above. The behemoth glass giant was made up of a beehive of thousands of little shelves that contained countless colorful bottles of liquor, and it was these shelves that were lined with LED-lights, hideously incongruous to the nature of a chandelier itself. The glass converged to a steep point that coincided with the center of the bar he was at.

Lovely, let’s just wait for that to fall on our heads.

As a rule, the young, twenty-six-year-old drug lord (and prominent mafia affiliate) absolutely detested bar stools. Per the usual pattern, his tall stature ensured that he was hunched over the tiny seat, his head resting in one of his long-fingered hands, and he was sorely tempted to just slump down on the bar instead. His body started to settle into an uncaring slouch, and he winced as he heard the distinct crack of his phone hitting the floor after falling out of his pocket as a result.

‘Goddammit.’ He cursed, impatiently brushing his ash blond hair out of his eyes as he bent to pick up the broken device. Through the corner of his beautifully-shaped and well-trained eye, he noted that someone had taken up the seat beside him.

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

‘Oh Gosh, you scared me!’ Mi Cha exclaimed as the man next to her straightened up.

For a moment she forgot how to speak.

Her first thought was that it was unfair for a man to have lips like that – puffy, plump, a delicate natural shade of petal pink that women would kill for. Mi Cha couldn’t help but stare at how beautifully his perfect cupid’s bow aligned with his long, straight nose. She’d seen her share of pretty faces – she was a model after all, and about fifty fashion shoots later, all the features seemed to blend together, each prettier than the next, and yet none compared to his ethereal exquisiteness. Her curious eyes wandered over his high cheekbones, sharp jawline, and his hooded eyes, colored a deep aquamarine by obvious lenses, but so eerily electric all the same.

A flat eyebrow, dark against his flawless skin arched at her questioningly, and Mi Cha realized that maybe her perusal had become a little too obvious.

‘Didn’t see you there.’ He said at length, his voice a lazy, gravelly drawl as she cleared her throat.

‘Yeah, me neither.’ She replied as the bartender turned away, having noted her order of a Tequila Sunrise. She was starting off strong with the purpose of being drunk enough to forget her own name. One cranky director, two rather handsy co-models, and three different bouts of not-her-fault dressing downs later, she figured she had enough justification.

Too bad all she got was half a sip.

When the first bottle shattered, Mi Cha assumed that someone had probably just been clumsy. When the second one broke, she thought that maybe an argument had broken out. It wasn’t until the third one burst right in front of her that she heard the distinct pew, pew, pew, and falling bodies.

That’s when the screams began.

In the resulting mayhem that caused a maelstrom of people moving in all directions, there was nowhere to run. The chrome lights overhead exploded as they were struck by stray (or purposeful, there was no way to tell) bullets, further reducing the visibility until only the haunting illumination from the wall scones remained. Her blood froze in her veins as she uncomprehendingly lowered herself to the floor, crouching under the bar for shelter, her father’s gruff voice ringing in her ears.

‘You here that sound, my girl?’

Seven-year-old Mi Cha had nodded hesitantly as they stood in the vast garden which could be considered the backyard of her house, both unsure of everything and a little scared of why the man she trusted most suddenly had a weird gun in his hand.

‘Daddy, what is that?’ she’d asked, pointing to the strange attachment.

‘A silencer,’ he’d replied as he’d shot a tree again, ‘If you ever hear this, you run as far as you can, understood? Promise me.’

Her tiny pinky finger had quietly wrapped around his.

The forgotten memories swirled in her head, everything too fast for coherent thought, and as she snapped her head around, searching for a way out of this hellhole, for the second time that night, her eyes met startlingly bright sea-green.

The stranger from before blinked slowly. Before her overwhelmed mind could register that although he shared her uncertain position, his gaze exposed an unnerving calmness, unyielding hands gripped her in a punishing grasp and she was roughly dragged to her feet.

She stumbled on her tall heels, cursing the fact that she chose to come here straight after the shoot ended, and right after she was jerked upright, a harsh blow struck the side of her face.

And that was the first time she’d known what that felt like.

Tears reflexively streamed down her cheeks as she tried to get past the pounding in her brain. She fell into someone, and a now-familiar voice said to her lowly, ‘Hey, snap out of it.’

She looked up to see ash blond hair and full lips pressed together in a disapproving grimace.

‘So nice to finally meet you, Yoon Mi Cha.’

The woman turned and met the shallow, bloodshot eyes of a man she didn’t know.

‘What do you want from me?’

‘Why don’t you ask your father?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ She said truthfully.

‘All in good time.’ was the chilling reply.

Who’s this?’ his sleazy voice crowed as he gave the blond man behind her a once-over. Mi Cha felt a shiver run through her as she saw that they’d been surrounded by at least ten men, all clad in disheveled black suits in varying stages of disrepair, and each man a worrying degree of being more brutal-looking and ham-handed than the last.

‘N-No one.’ She managed shakily, and the middle-aged thug in front of her grinned, his beady black eyes flicking from her to their other captive.

The handsome stranger who now had a gun painfully shoved to his temple. Although he somehow looked more annoyed than appalled at the situation.

‘Nobodies don’t make the guest list~’ the thug said, his sing-song voice rousing laughter from his accomplices.

Mi Cha met the man’s eyes, his gaze steely and boring into her, and she knew that she couldn’t just let him die.

‘Boyfriend.’ She choked out, ‘he’s my boyfriend.’

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

Not that Hyungwon fancied death-by-degenerate all that much, but he couldn’t help but feel a little miffed at being dragged into a mess that he hadn’t help create in the first place.

‘Let me do you guys a favor and make sure you stay together until death do you part.’ The apparent leader of this sorry band of miscreants cackled.

The only indication that he’d winced was given by the slight pursing of his lips as the man backhanded the young woman. This time, the force of it brought her to the glass-littered floor. This time, she didn’t get up.

He watched as a lackey carelessly gathered her slim body. With a thin strap of her deep-cut floor-length red dress slipping down one shoulder and one long, pale leg exposed by the slit that ran up to a few inches below her hip, she seemed rather fragile.

‘Let’s take a hike, pretty boy.’ The man holding him jeered, distracting him from his observation.

Dear God, they need more work on their dialogues.

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

Hyungwon had ended up in the empty back of a nondescript black van with his wrists cuffed to a handhold above his head. Apparently, his sardonic look hadn’t gone over well with the brutes for hire. His lovely companion had ended up tossed onto the dirty, thinly-carpeted floor of the vehicle, her hands restrained behind her back and pulling her body in what was sure to be a very uncomfortable position. However, she was still out cold, which was good, because she hadn’t been mentally present to experience the gangsters disgustingly grope her legs to remove her phone from her thigh holster strap. Unlike the rather daunting name and purpose, the thin material had only contained an ID, a credit card, a couple 50,000 won notes, and her flashy new iPhone. All the men had cared about was her communication device, and after apprehensively witnessing what had happened to her, he had wisely tossed his own cracked phone over.

He watched the lights zoom past outside the darkly tinted windows, and as they became scarcer, he noted that they were moving into the shadier parts of town. Where people like him roamed carelessly. A line from the conversation earlier kept spinning through his mind.

‘Why don’t you ask your father?’

She’d looked like she genuinely hadn’t known what was going on, or why she was being practically hunted.

A glance at the fallen ID by his Italian leather-clad left foot gave away the barest of details – Yoon Mi Cha, 25 years old, Resident of Seoul.

Still, a name was a start.

In the rush to get the victims away, their driver had ignored too many speed bumps to count, and as the car jumped from the impact from another one, the woman on the floor was jerked back into consciousness.

She struggled like a frenzied animal, trying to get free of her bindings, and panicked dry sobs fell from her mouth as she took in her surroundings. Her terrified dark eyes wandered rapidly before they settled on him as heaving breaths fell from her mouth in stuttered gasps.

‘Where are we?’

‘On the highway to hell, if you will.’

Despite her alarm, she scowled at him in irritation.

‘We have to get out of here.’ She said.

‘My necklace. There’s a bobby pin.’

The traffic lights they swept past painted her pale face with soft red and green through the dirty dimmed windows as multiple queries warred in her stunned gaze.

The clear winner was of course, “Who the hell are you?”, but she didn’t ask.

‘You’re not law enforcement.’ She said. It wasn’t a question.

‘Never said I was.’

With an almost bursting silence, she shuffled onto her knees and drew near before pausing apprehensively between his long, outstretched legs.

She had obviously come to the realization that since she was still hindered by her bound hands, there was only one way to get to the tiny object they needed – and she didn’t like it.

‘Yes, this was all my master plan to get you to breathe on me.’ Hyungwon deadpanned, impatient at her hesitation.

Her timidity gave way to a firm resolve as she moved closer.

And yet, for all his earlier speech, it was him who held unnaturally still when he felt her shallow exhales brush against his collarbone, her eyes never wavering from his.

The feared drug lord not-so-discreetly swallowed as her soft lips traced the impossibly thin polished platinum chain. Her teeth delicately scraped the skin between the toned planes of his chest to take the pin into her mouth and he finally let go of the air that had frozen in his lungs.

Hyungwon was utterly glad that their activities were hidden from the goons by a partition, even though something like that was of course most useful to keep away unnecessary distractions like noises – not to mention that it was the best way to contain blood splatter. He tried not to dwell on that for now since they’d been left alone, which was a great chance to escape.

Absolute amateurs. He’d never make the rookie mistake of letting captives be by themselves – much less do this kind of grunt work himself – but then again, this whole thing was not his style to begin with.

Silky strands of the woman’s long, dark hair tickled his cheek, drawing back his attention as she stretched to her limit, trying to somehow get the bobby pin into his hands. The awkward position also put her perky breasts, tantalizingly exposed by the low bodice of her gown right in his face, and for a second all he could think about was how perfectly they’d fit in the palm of his hand.

Not good.

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

His aquamarine eyes had settled on her and every moment had felt like years as she’d burned with the icy fire of his steady gaze. Mi Cha had given out a shaky sigh of relief when his heavy lids had finally shut, allowing his lashes to brush the tops of his high cheekbones.

She pushed the pin from between her lips and into his hands.

Then his long fingers fumbled, and the blasted object would have been lost on the disgusting shag beneath them had it not been for her quick mouth catching it and settling it back into his grip again.

His startling irises sported a trace of sheepishness before he looked up to silently focus on tinkering with the cuffs.

‘Who are you, anyway?’ he asked her conversationally, as if they weren’t in the back of a dingy van speeding off to God knows where. As if she wasn’t the one who should have been questioning him instead.

‘You first.’

‘Hyungwon.’

She waited – with all of two syllables, that was barely an answer, let alone an introduction – but all he gave her was a sidelong glance and a raised eyebrow until she dropped it.

‘Mi Cha.’ She replied stubbornly.

‘Any idea why our lovely tour guides would come after you, Mi Cha?’ Hyungwon drawled.

Her temper flared, but was tamped down by the thought of the very real danger they were in.

‘I don’t know. I’m a model,’ – he briefly paused at that – ‘but I don’t have any connections that would get me in trouble like this.’

‘Well, it has to be something. They mentioned your father earlier.’

‘He doesn’t have anything to do with this either, he’s just a casino owner.’

‘The one we were at?’

‘Yeah, that’s the one. Someone must have pissed off someone else and now they’re after my father. Great.’

Mi Cha sighed in frustration, every passing minute making her more antsy as she rested her head on the partition that separated the back of the van from the driver’s area. If she’d been paying attention, she’d have noticed the way his hands stilled infinitesimally, right before the cuff’s hinge gave way with a too-easy click under his practiced fingers.

But as it was, the large vehicle chose that moment to swerve, threateningly close to tipping over, and she’d have flown into the back hatch door had it not been for the strong arms that pulled her to safety. The van righted itself as she was yanked back, and as a result, Mi Cha found herself pressed face-first into Hyungwon’s collarbone, the light magnolia and mint scent of his expensive cologne filling her nostrils.

She tried to disentangle herself, but he held her there – kneeling between his legs and pressed to his chest – with a slightly hoarse ‘Stay still, the lighting’s better this way.’

Mi Cha could barely breathe as his delicate touch brushed over her wrists and he released her raw and aching hands.

‘Now what?’

‘How good is your speed on the treadmill?’

She pulled off her heels as the lanky man moved towards one of the side doors.

It seemed that they had reached the intended destination, since the van started to slow down from its breakneck pace, but Hyungwon didn’t wait for a stopping point as he yanked the handle back and pulled the door open.

The cold night air was a blast of harsh trepidation in her face. They were surrounded by narrow, dingy streets, littered with broken trash and filth, and towering, empty warehouses and shuttered stores. Busted streetlights flickered eerily. The hushed whispers from the polished company she kept had been little more than cheap gossip in describing how daunting the shady part of town was in person.

‘Jump.’ He commanded, and Mi Cha didn’t have to be told twice as she launched herself out of the damned vehicle, staggering heavily as she regained her footing.

Her companion was much more agile, and she didn’t even have a second to think of anything before his long fingers were wrapping around hers as he promptly broke into a run, dragging her along with him down a dark alley.

Loud, aggravated shouts broke out behind them, and she tried to ignore everything, which was hard to do when the number of footsteps giving chase increased. No doubt, backup had arrived.

The blood rushing to her brain dulled the pain from the debris on the ground slicing into her bare feet. The only thing in her vision was the back of Hyungwon’s ash blond head and his leather-jacket clad back as he led her through one grimy path after another, the buildings so close together that a bike would have had a hard time passing through. The yells and curses behind them grew louder and closer, and chills shot down her spine.

A striking crack sounded as Hyunwon kicked open a thin door, and then pushed her through into an unlit warehouse. Rows after rows of two-story high columns of crates and boxes made the place a maze. They hurried through the gaps and the she was being pushed to the floor behind a large container.

‘Stay here.’

‘Wh-where are you going?’ she managed, her voice shaking.

‘To find a way out.’

‘I’ll come with – ‘

‘No. I’ll come find you. Stay here.’

There was no room for argument with the finality in his low voice, and he gave her what she supposed was meant to be a reassuring nod before he left.

Mi Cha crouched on the dust-covered linoleum, her senses on high alert. A rather ironic Son and Sons stamp stared at her as she stared at its imprint on the crate in front of her.

Then came the echoing voices and footfalls.

Worn out shoes squeaked against the floor as their presence came nearer.

‘Find them! I’m not losing my balls for a high society bitch and her boy toy.’

‘They can’t have gone far, boss.’

‘You can give me that bullshit after you fucking find them, Jang.’

They were closer now, and fear had her mind whirring and her heart racing.

Stay or run?

Run or fight?

Even as the thought crossed her mind, she knew that there was no way she could take on two of them and make it out alive.

Terror fused ice in her veins, and she was about to gather the remnants of her courage and make a run for it when the dull thud of something accidentally falling over had a sudden silence covering the area.

‘That way.’ One of the men decided, and she heard them move away in the direction of the sound.

Mi Cha barely had a moment to let out a small sigh of relief before a smooth palm clamped over her mouth and an arm locked around her, pinning her hands to her sides.

And then she was fighting, twisting, turning, struggling to free herself from the constricted, ungiving grasp.

‘Shh. It’s me.’

Hyungwon.

Her breaths slowly calmed from fraught pants to deeper exhales as he released her.

‘This way.’ He said, and she mindlessly followed him, eager to be out of there.

Once he was sure they weren’t being followed, the tall man quickly moved through tight passageways to get them both outside, but he didn’t stop there. They walked past one dilapidated building after another, until one street was finally lit up by the dim light of a tiny convenience store. With old, blurry glass windows and peeling paint, it looked like you were likely to leave with much less money than planned based on the appearance of the current patrons of the shop.

Mi Cha watched as Hyungwon told her to wait, and nonchalantly strolled up to a man in his early thirties with a receding hairline and a loose black hoodie and jeans that probably needed a good wash. The man looked up from his motorcycle as Hyungwon spoke.

‘Here. I need your bike.’

She hadn’t even noticed him pull out the thin wad of 50,000 won notes.

‘No way dude. This is – ‘

The man stopped, his eyes widening to impossible limits as Hyungwon ever-so-casually adjusted his jacket, giving the man a subtle glimpse of the small revolver tucked into the inside pocket of the soft material.

Well, she definitely hadn’t noticed that either. And if she hadn’t been apprehensive before, she was now.

Just who the hell is he?

The other man practically ran for his life – but only after he’d snatched the money from her companion’s hand.

As the blond man turned towards her, she reflexively took a step back, and a stray sharp shard of glass cut into her foot.

‘Ow.’

Hearing her own voice broke the dam to let loose the flood that she had been holding at bay. In that moment of pause, the adrenaline that had been driving her drained away. Everything stormed into her brain at once – the flying bullets, the way she’d been hit, kidnapped, hurt, the men after her for no reason at all – and all of it hit her hard.

And then she was trembling, her thin arms wrapping around herself and her fingernails digging into her skin.

Her terrified eyes met his aquamarine irises, and something swirled and changed in their depths because then he was moving towards her, enveloping her into his arms. He ignored her initial squeak and as he rubbed a hand on her back, her composure returned bit by bit.

‘Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.’

His throaty voice reverberated through her, and his magnolia and mint scent was calming as she nodded into his chest.

At length, he pulled away, and for a moment, all he did was look into her dark eyes, an undecipherable expression on his face, like he was scrutinizing some idea in his head. She blinked, and the moment broke.

‘You’re good to go.’ He said.

Where would I go? Where do I go? I’m so lost.

‘They might come after me again.’ Mi Cha whispered.

‘They might.’

I’m scared, I’m so scared. I don’t want to die.

‘The street down there leads to the main road. I can give you enough for a taxi.’

Alone? At this hour? I don’t want to. I don’t want to be by myself. My God, I don’t even know this man, but he just saved my life. I … trust him.

‘Can I come with you?’

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

Guilt wasn’t an emotion that Hyungwon was unfamiliar with, but he was able to brush it aside pretty easily for the most part. It was just a little harder that day, when he had this woman who was relieved to see him, who accepted being in his arms as a source of comfort after a harrowing experience, who trusted him.

She did, he could see it in those beautiful, dark eyes of hers.

And yet, he couldn’t just give up on Yoon Moon Jae’s only daughter when she was right in front of him, practically handed to him on a silver platter, all innocence and naivete because she sure as hell had no clue what her father actually did to make his money. The very daughter that Moon Jae had spent years’ worth of time and energy concealing so that no one knew her face and no one had ever heard her name. She was perfect in every way. A perfect beauty, she had an amazing resilience under trying circumstances – and she was the perfect weakness for his enemy.

He almost felt bad. Almost.

‘You’re good to go.’ He said.

Never. It’s too late for you.

‘They might come after me again.’

‘They might.’

They will. You’re a dead woman walking.

‘The street down there leads to the main road. I can give you enough for a taxi.’ Hyungwon forced himself to say.

I’ll never let you go. Just a little more, darling.

‘Can I come with you?’

Perfect.

(To be continued … )

#hyungwon #chae hyungwon #monsta x hyungwon #mx hyungwon #hyungwon fanfic #monsta x fanfic #drug lord au #monsta x scenarios #mx scenarios #hyungwon scenarios #hyungwon fic

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potter-loves-malfoy · 6 years

Note

you have a few favorites? They don't have to be brand new or anything. Just some that you love?

I have some new and some old! Also some Jeddy cuz I’ve been reading a whole lot of Jeddy lately, but I’ll put those in the end! Also, this is gonna be mostly smut because that's what I mostly read unless I’m in a very wholesome mood. This is gonna be long, like very long, I’m bad at picking favorites there are just too many (34 to be exact, apparently and this is the most I could narrow it down). (I also ran out of things to say because I remember loving those fics SO MUCH but I dont remember enough to give a “review”)

The Magic Cat by dot_the_writer

When Harry sees Draco Malfoy with painted nails and wearing an oversized jumper covered in cat fur, his obsession from school comes back in full force. Featuring supportive friends, cute cats and lots of Harry figuring out what he wants.

This one I read just this morning when my best friend asked me to rec her some hurt/comfort (hi Jess) and it’s my most recent favorite. Sooo cute!

A New Page by bixgirl1

Draco just wanted to find out what was up with Potter’s new attitude. Some light stalking, the discovery of a hidden diary, and a lot of wanking later, and he has some answers.

They’re just not the ones he expected.

(Things have changed since sixth year, folks. …Mostly.)

This one also, I read fairly recently and I mean @bixgirl1 fics, do I even need to say more?

The Tapestry of Kinship by khalulu

Harry is at loose ends, Draco is good with needles, and Draco’s young daughter wants to see a certain tapestry repaired. The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black will never be the same.

Helix by Saras_Girl

Seven months after the end of the war, Harry is feeling lost. Fortunately, he is about to be offered an unexpected and sparkling chance to find himself again. [2014 advent fic]

Sanguis Vita Est by Shiguresan

Whilst Voldemort’s prisoner, Draco is made a vampire and forced to take Harry as his first meal. With Draco managing to resist the temptation to drain him, just barely, in a moment of blind rage at what he has been forced to become, he aids Harry in the destruction of Voldemort. But even with that threat vanquished, once back at Hogwarts, Draco finds himself disturbingly addicted to Harry’s blood. And amongst all this, a dark shadow looms ominously on the outline of the forest, watching them closely. A vampire!Draco story and also an ‘Eighth year’ story.

I read this ages ago but I remember hesitating before I started to read this because it’s 312k+ and I didn’t really read super long fics back then, but I loved this so much, also vampire!Draco is a good

Turn by Saras_Girl

One good turn always deserves another. Apparently.

My favorite execution of the “character’s life kinda sucks so character magically gets sent to an alternate universe” trope. Oh also, it’s part of a series

dirtynumbangelboy by magpie_fngrl

After Harry’s unfortunate encounter with his ex, Draco Malfoy makes him a proposition. Draco wants his parents to stop matchmaking him and Harry wants to make his ex jealous. All they need to do is simply pretend they’re in love. Problem is… Draco already is.

Again another amazing fake relationship fic!

Give Me Sweet Oblivion by tryslora

Italy seems like a long way to go to keep a fetish secret. But the club is exclusive, and the far away location, and Muggle nature, promises anonymity from Wizarding Britain. The only problem is that sometimes, great minds think alike.

One of the actual hottest smut fics that I’ve read, recced to me by my friend @the-cellar-spiral Fun fact, we planned and failed to write a kind of sequel to this, we had @tryslora ‘s permission and everything, we just never really had time, but who knows maybe in the future.

Every Me and Every You by bixgirl1

Harry liked his life just fine, thankyouverymuch — so it was bad enough when a sly fairy cursed him to leap into alternate realities. But seeing Malfoy in all of them? Definitely way too much. And worse yet: needing the bastard’s help to figure out how to get out of of it.

It was a disaster waiting to happen, really.

Well… probably.

Another AMAZING alternate universe fic, using @magpiefngrl ‘s tumblr prompt AU’s as said alternate universes that Harry keeps going in and out of, which makes it 974957839 times better! Also Unspeakable!Draco, also the alternate realities are almost always sexual and it’s great

Dating for Dads in Denial by aibidil

In which one wizard designs and another reluctantly patronises a magical matchmaking service, amidst the chaos of children and parenting.

Since You Asked by Magnolia822

Newly retired Draco Malfoy writes an anonymous agony column for the Quibbler, for which he quickly gains a reputation for offering pithy, practical advice. His life is comfortably predictable until he receives a letter from a reader seeking a divorce from his wife of thirty years. The situation seems far too familiar … could the writer be the Savior himself?

Salty Sweet by Aelys_Althea

Draco was a Master. He’d always been one, but having a town of Muggles consider him as close to God’s gift as they would ever receive was certainly validating. Except it wasn’t enough. After years of settling, of conjuring masterpieces with his fingers and his prowess, Draco realised he needed a change.

How hard could it be to find an apprentice pâtissier that did what they were told? As it happened, doing ‘what was told’ was about the last thing on his inevitable prospect’s mind. Trust Harry Potter to be the one to turn Draco’s life upside down.

Moldova’s Magical Tea by aibidil

Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, and—to everyone’s surprise—Draco Malfoy are opening a magical tea shop to revive wizarding tea culture and, hopefully, to bring the community together after the war. Harry, who is unemployed and trying to find his way in post-war society, wants to help his friends with their new business—but that means spending a lot of time around Malfoy. Featuring Muggle music from summer 2001, trips to the Muggle cinema, herbology and magical herbal infusions, and Draco trying to convince Harry that, while he’s still a snarky git, he’s no longer a bigot.

The Critiquer by dysonrules

When Harry submits his cock photo to a renowned Cock Critiquer and gets a terrible review, he decides to take a photography class to hopefully improve his skills.

Career Choices: Harry: Shiftless layabout; Draco: Cock Critiquer

But, In Dreams by kedavranox

Harry is a Seer, with a particular affinity for speaking to the dead, but this comes at a price he’s slowly killing himself to pay.

My Name Was Safest in Your Mouth by alpha_exodus

Harry didn’t ask for Malfoy to walk into his shop after so many years. But one event leads to another, and soon they’re scrambling to help Hermione find the solution to one of the most insidious viruses the wizarding world has ever seen. To make matters worse, Malfoy’s hiding something, and Harry really wants to kiss him—except Malfoy doesn’t date. Ever.

I Can’t Take It! by XxTheDarkLordxX

After the war, Draco Malfoy became an author. A best selling author whose books move the hearts of those who read them. Which wouldn’t be a problem for Ron if all of them weren’t about Harry! It was obvious to him that Malfoy was in love with his best friend but why was it that no one else seemed to think so? He was going to get to the bottom of this and get Harry to stop mooning over the blonde idiot at the same time. Perhaps, they just needed someone to come along and get them to fess up. For the safety of his own sanity, Ron was going to help Malfoy ensnare Harry. That is, if they can get along long enough not to kill each other.

The Full Monty by magpie_fngrl

Harry poses for a naked Auror calendar and Draco goes batshit crazy with lust.

Tea and No Sympathy by who_la_hoop

It’s Potter’s fault, of course, that Draco finds himself trapped in the same twenty-four-hour period, repeating itself over and over again. It’s been nearly a year since the unpleasant business at Hogwarts, and Draco’s getting on with his life quite nicely, thank you, until Harry sodding Potter steps in and ruins it all, just like always. At first, though, the time loop seems liberating. For the first time in his life, he can do anything, say anything, be anything, without consequence. But the more Draco repeats the day, the more he realises the uncomfortable truth: he’s falling head over heels for the speccy git. And suddenly, the time loop feels like a trap. For how can he ever get Harry to love him back when time is, quite literally, against him?

Moon-Eyed by loveglowsinthedark

Draco Malfoy, Head of Veela Affairs at the Department of Magical Beings, does not do people favours.

Harry Potter, recently turned werewolf, is not “people” – not to Draco anyway.

Does Draco plan to fall in love with Harry when he decides to help him? No. Does he end up falling in love with him anyway? Pft, what do you think?

Adventures in Solitude (Are You There, Sirius? It’s Me, Draco) by oceaxe

Draco is grateful to have had Sirius’ portrait to confide in all those years ago, about his sexuality and unwanted feelings for a classmate named Harry. But when he gets the portrait out of storage after twenty years, the secrets he has kept from Sirius all along come out. Secrets about Draco’s role in the war… and secrets about Harry Potter.

Proof of the Pudding by gracie137

When Greg’s bakery opens on Diagon Alley, Draco doesn’t expect it to the place he ends up finding love, but then again Harry Potter had always ended up defying Draco’s expectations.

AKA: The One Where Gregory Goyle somehow ends up running both a bakery and a match making service.

The Rules of Matchbreaking by PalenDrome (nerdherderette)

For Prompt #51:When Draco gets fired, he reluctantly agrees to break up a girl’s relationship for her disapproving mother. Through word of mouth, the one-time gig turns him into a professional Matchbreaker, however he winds up falling for one of his clients and must somehow balance his secret job and love life.[excerpt]:“So who is it? The Curse-breaker and the Veela? The head of the Department of Magical Transportation?” Draco’s eyes lit up. “The Dragon-tamer?” Now that particular Weasley could be fun.

“No. It’s Harry,” Hermione said, the name exploding out of her in a rush.

Draco blinked, stunned into silence.

“Harry,” he said, after he recovered his faculties. “You want me to break up Harry and the Weaselette?!“

One Night at the Leaky by birdsofshore

Harry should have known better than to accept a drunken dare. Especially when Malfoy was sitting right there, looking like that and wearing those bloody tight trousers.

This is the very first Drarry fic I read, while trying to research dares for a seungchuchu fic I was writing at the time and it is the fic that made me ship Drarry and it will always hold a special place in my heart.

Ligabus Filium by Tessa Crowley (tessacrowley)

It should be careful, deliberate, but it isn’t. Like every other part of their relationship, it happens gradually and then all at once, before they even realize it. And when the little blue threads bind them together, there’s no going back.

The Printed Press by Soupy_George

Draco Malfoy was still slightly amazed that he was standing on the doorstep of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. He never would have thought that Harry Potter’s very public and very … sweary, emotional explosion would have led to him offering Draco, of all people, a job.

All Life is Yours to Miss by Saras_Girl

Professor Malfoy’s world is contained, controlled, and as solitary as he can make it, but when an act of petty revenge goes horribly awry, he and his trusty six-legged friend are thrown into Hogwarts life at the deep end and must learn to live, love and let go.

Foundations!verse by Saras_Girl

Reparations by Saras_Girl

Harry is about to discover that the steepest learning curve comes after Healer training, and that second chances can be found in unexpected places.

Foundations by Saras_Girl

When one door closes, another one opens – with a bit of a push. Life, love, and complications. [sequel to Reparations]

So this was included in my healer!Harry rec list but this series is just so good also it has way too many fics in the series for me to link to all of them but once you read the two main fics there’s no way you’re not gonna wanna read the one-shots that come with the series as well.

Are You Mine? by gracerene

A trilogy of fics set in an Epilogue-Compliant Harry Potter ‘Verse, with various accompanying time-stamps and one-shots. Fics are in chronological order.

Not Just When You Want to Be by gracerene

A little over a year after the end of the war, fate seems intent on pushing Harry and Draco together. Staying together is a different matter entirely.

What I’m Waiting to Find by gracerene

James has devoted the past two years to being the best damn Chaser that Puddlemere United has ever seen…and to getting over his teenage crush on Teddy. But when Teddy comes back to England after a long stint abroad, James’s resolve to move on is put to the test.

All of the Time by gracerene

Twenty-five years later, Harry and Draco find their way back to one another.

I read this one fairly recently as well and this is definitely one of my all-time favorite series, the first and third fics are Drarry and the second is Jeddy. I honestly love this so much that I lowkey want to go find @gracerene09 down and thank her for writing such an amazing series. Oh fair warning though, the first fic made me ugly cry and opened a wound that only the third fic could heal so you know, prepare yourself. There are also accompanying oneshots that are also v amazing!

This Must Be the Place by aibidil

When your dad is Harry Potter, your face shows up in Teen Witch, your social media videos go viral, and sometimes your life depends on pretending to date your metamorph godbrother, whom you’ve been over for years, thank you very much. Or, the one where James and Teddy do animal yoga and risqué karaoke and their families could do with seeing fewer videos of them snogging.

I’m a sucker of the fake relationship trope and @aibidil wrote this sooo beautifully

The Hidden Side by gracerene

Twenty years ago today, James Sirius Potter was born into this world. Four years, two months, and six days later, somebody took him.

Oh god this, THIS Auror!Teddy is one of my favorite Teddy’s. Also super intriguing plot and still quite a few unexpected twists even though the biggest revelation you guess/know pretty early on. Oh and background drarry!

#a 'few' favorites #i'm a mess #i got v carried away #favorites #Drarry fluff #drarry smut #drarry fanfic #drarry fic recs #drarry rec list #jeddy #jeddy fanfic #my rec lists

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thoughts-for-tom · 6 years

Text

Always (Tom Holland x Reader)

pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

summary: Y/n is a senior, and she's the top of her class. She's always been busy because of school work and doesn't have enough time for Tom, her boyfriend. Y/n also received an invitation from Ivy League College which is her dream school, and it required her to stay there for a year, which means leaving Tom behind. How will Tom handle the situation? Will Tom fall out of love?

warning: sexual content, slight swearing, unprotected sex, FLUFF SMUT

word count: 1.8k!

It's been a busy week for y/n. She's been doing school works every day because all of their subject teachers basically just dropped all their assignments including individuals works and group works. Y/n rolled her eyes as she saw her partners Dylan and Layla using their mobile phones instead of helping her out with their project. It was a project for their English subject, they need to write a summary of their chosen stories. This is why y/n hates group project because her partners tend to depend on her just because she's the top student of the class.

She stopped on what she's doing when her phone vibrated. She smiled upon seeing who texted her, its Tom.

From: Thomas ♥

hey baby, where are you? I miss you, can we meet?

She always liked Tom's real name even though Tom hates it, that's why she named it on her contacts. Y/n pursed her lips, she wasn't sure what to reply. She still has a lot of things to do and she might have to turned down Tom. She glanced again on her phone when it vibrated again.

From: Thomas ♥

please :(

And that's all it takes to convince y/n to ditch her project making session with her useless partners. She stood up and walked towards Dylan and Layla. Dylan is busy playing video games while Layla is busy stalking some guy on instagram.

Y/n sighs. "I'm going. You two better finish the project or I'll tell Mrs. Williams you haven't contributed and she would mark the two of you zero on this project." She said as she stormed out from the library. She knew that sounded like a threat but serves them right.

Tom is sitting inside a coffee shop near their school. It's been a week since he had seen y/n, they have always been texting each other but that's it. Tom missed her so much, he missed hugging, kissing, and holding her hands. Tom felt his phone vibrate and he can't help but to smile as the excitement rushed into him.

From: Baby

I'm on my way.

Few minutes later Tom heard the door open and he quickly goes to y/n and hug her. They went to their table and Tom can't stop smiling and staring at his girlfriend. Y/n noticed Tom is smiling ear to ear and she laughed.

"Stop smiling like that." Y/n chuckled.

"I can't help it! I'm so happy you're here." Tom said and reached for y/n hands resting on the table.

Y/n gave a peck on Tom’s lips and giggled, “What did I do to deserve an amazing person like you?”

Y/n and Tom spent the whole afternoon talking inside the coffee shop. Every time y/n is with Tom, everything just feels right. It is as if the world seemed to come to a stop and the moment paused for y/n and Tom’s eyes to lock.

“Oh, by the way,” Y/n held Tom’s hand across the table and gripped it tight. “I received an invitation from an Ivy League school.”

Tom’s faced brightened up with what y/n mentioned, “I am happy for you! It’s your dream school, isn’t it?”

Y/n’s face began to frown and slightly lets go of Tom’s hand, “But it required me to stay there for the whole school year.”

Tom didn't know what to feel. Does that mean they're going to be apart from each other? Tom think he won't be able to handle that.

"Does that mean you're going to leave me?" Tom said, in his low voice, almost like a whisper.

"Tom. I--" Y/n stopped. She doesn't know what to say either.

"We can still text each other. We can still communicate online." She said to lighten up Tom's mood, but she knows that won't work. Tom looked at y/n, he loves her and he always wants what's the best for her.

"I'm sorry." Tom said. Y/n didn't expect that. Why would he say sorry?

"Tom, you don't have to apologize. What are you sorr--" y/n was cut off by Tom.

"I'm sorry for feeling this way. I know you want this so bad and I wanted you to be happy but I just can't help it." Tom said, and he can feel his eyes getting watery. Tom's always the cry baby in their relationship, whenever he and y/n have an argument, or when they're watching a drama movie on netflix, Tom always cry.

"I understand you Tom, I do. Please, don't cry. You know I hate seeing you cry." Y/n said as she wiped the tears starting to fall down to his cheeks.

Tom smiled at her. When it was getting dark, they decided to go to Tom's place and watch some movies like they always do. Tom's parents were not around so they can freely do whatever they want, but Tom is not thinking some nasty things. He just wants some quality time with y/n, and maybe some cuddling and kissing.

"You can go ahead upstairs. I'm just gonna cook some food for us." Tom said and kissed y/n on her lips, just a peck. Y/n smile and walked upstairs. It's been a month since she's been here. She missed the scent of Tom's room and suddenly flashbacks of their first sex came rushing into her mind. This is where she lost her virginity, and she was glad it was Tom. It's been a month since she and Tom had sex, and she's being honest with herself, she's definitely craving for Tom's touch. She blushed at the thought, but brushed it away. She turned on Tom's laptop and connected it to the tv.

She picked Everything, Everything because she has a huge crush on Nick Robinson and just right when the movie is about to start Tom walked into his room with nachos, popcorns, sandwiches, and juice. They positioned themselves on the bed with y/n head laying on Tom's chest and Tom's hand wrapped around her shoulders. Y/n rest her hand on Tom's chest while playfully moving it like she was playing the piano. It made a ticklish sensation and Tom can't help but to giggle.

"Nick Robinson is hot." She said when she saw Nick's character on the movie. Tom hummed as a disapproval.

"Hotter than me?" Tom asked.

"Shut up." Y/n chuckles and leaned toward Tom's face.

"Of course, you're hotter." she whispers and gave Tom a kiss. Gentle but long.

When they pull apart from each other, Tom smirked. "You made a mistake doing that." He said, and with that he kissed her. This time it was hard but passionate. It's like they've been wanting this for a long time and they're so hungry for each other.

Tom positioned himself on top of y/n while kissing her, not wanting to break it. Y/n moans as she felt Tom hands roam around her body, caressing gently. Tom kisses went down to her neck and collarbones leaving a mark before capturing her mouth for a kiss.

Y/n moans that me Tom to gain more access into her mouth, and it's been only a matter of second when they find their tongues touching each other. Y/n hands roams around Tom's upper body as her hands find its way to the hem of Tom's shirt. She grabbed it and pull it, Tom groaned and help y/n take off his shirt. Tom is back on kissing y/n while his hands grab y/n's shirt and literally ripped it apart. Y/n moaned as she heard some of the buttons from her shirt fell on the floor. Y/n didn't even noticed that Tom already unclasped her bra and throw it on the floor. Tom stopped while looking at y/n body.

"Beautiful." he said goes down and started nibbling and sucking y/n breasts. Y/n arched her back at the sensation Tom was giving her.

Tom kisses went down into her stomach. Tom quickly unzip her jeans as she felt the eagerness of y/n to touch her down there. Tom smirked and happily obliged, he throw y/n jeans and undies on the floor. Tom kissed her again while his hand caressing y/n breast and the other playfully rubbing her cherry.

"Please." y/n begged as she moved her hips. She moaned when Tom started to insert his fingers and thrusting them into her. When Tom felt her wetness he removed his fingers and unzip his pant and throw them on the floor together with his underwear. Y/n watch Tom's huge member sprung upon removing his pants. The next she knew she is holding it with her hands and started jerking it off. Tom moaned as he felt the pleasure rushed into him.

It was a matter of time when Tom felt y/n mouth on the tip of his member. That's when Tom lost it, he moaned and watch as y/n sucking his manhood. The warmth and the way his manhood touched the tip of y/n is sensational, but Tom doesn't want to cum yet, so he positioned himself on top of y/n again and started kissing her. Y/n felt the tip of his manhood touching her entrance, and she moaned in Tom's lips when she felt him inside her.

Tom started to move slowly and deep and when he felt y/n had adjusted he started to thrust fast, hard, and deep. He felt y/n hands on his back while he buried his face on y/n neck.

"Fuck. I'm gonna--" y/n moaned as she felt the familiar sensation. Tom continued to thrust inside her after her orgasm. Y/n moaned as Tom keeps hitting her spot.

"Shit. I'm coming." Tom said, but he realized he wasn't wearing a condom so he had no choice but to cum outside. Tom pulls out his member and release it on y/n stomach.

Y/n moaned at the sight. Tom quickly grabs his shirt on the floor and wiped his release on y/n stomach. He kissed her and positioned himself beside her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't wear a condom. I didn't see this coming." Tom said and chuckled.

"I wasn't expecting this to happen either." Y/n said, still panting.

"I'm gonna miss you." Tom said, and kissed her.

"So bad."

"I'll miss you too." Y/n said, and this time it was her turn to cry. Tom quickly wiped her tears.

"I'll visit you every holidays." Tom said.

"No need, I'll make sure I'll be home every holidays" Y/n said.

"I love you." Tom smiled.

"I love you too, Thomas. Always." Y/n said and wrapped her arms around Tom. Hoping that this would not be the last time.

Masterlist here.

I hope you enjoyed it! Tell me your thoughts.

If you want to be tagged on my upcoming oneshots, click this Taglist and fill-up the form.

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland imagines #peter parker imagines #peter parker smut #peter parker #spider-man #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #fanfiction #tom holland oneshot #mcu #avengers infinity war #tom holland as boyfriend #tom holland boyfriend #tom holland au #tom holland headcanons

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katekyo-hitman-aus · 6 years

Text

au where Skull, Fong, and Reborn know each other beforehand

It was a tiny little baby in Fong’s arms. It was cute. And it was a monster, Fong decided as he tossed the baby to it’s mother. A high pitched shriek sounded from all the surrounding females of his life. Fong realized women were the most dangerous and could probably kill him by accident.

He sweated when he felt his mother’s stare behind him, her naturally long nails almost clawing Fong’s neck. Where was his father????

Yi-Sheng clicked her teeth in disapproval at Fong’s actions. Fong received many fan smacks the moment the purple baby was here.

Hours later, Fong was stuck with Changying, a girl who was only 11 months old and somehow liked him unlike other people.

The boy was pretty sure Changying was mad at him-as mad as a purple baby could get. But then when she saw Fong play with the other cousins, she cooed and banged her arms on the high chair for Fong. She could barely say anything in chinese except for Fong and fried dumplings. But she grew to be even more adorable, much to Fong’s horror. He didn’t need his friends picking on his little sister! He and Changying were considered the closest pair of cousins and doted on each other.

For example, they’d fall asleep over stupid shows and try to explore the streets of the city only for Fong to get wrecked by his own father and Changying quickly wailed when Fong got a bashing or two from their family.

Fong has never been so thankful for Changying. She was the one who’d always cry over her big Brother aka him, it literally changed his life. Life in this shitty shack never seemed better. And he’d eventually got the chance to learn martial arts for his crybaby cousin. Changying cried even more and he panicked.

But turns out it was tears of joy because Changying could actually defend herself. She couldn’t really fight though aside from knocking people out in one blow so Fong got even more tough training.

As years passed by, Fong and Changying both grew more subdued as a result of all the politics surrounding their family and eventually separated. Both still managed to find each other without saying anything though. 10 years later, Changying is back home with a wilted look in her pink jade eyes and dark hair that is roughly cut up to her shoulder blades.

Fong is wincing from all the deep bruising he’s received from his masters. Fong is now 14 years old.

He doesn’t notice her due to all the stinging cuts on his hands until a broken cry screams in rage. Fong’s eyes widen and all is not okay. Fong slumps his way to hug Changying, his rage boiling as he realizes that she is even more malnourished than he was at the age of 10 and that was when he was surviving on scraps.

“Big Brother! Who did this to you?” She cries, her head still pounding from the Man.

Fong grimly smiles and gently rubs off the dirt of her hands. Changying looks at him with narrowed eyes, a bit puffy from all the crying in the rain she did.

“No one but me.” “Bu-but-” “No one.”

That was the most scary Fong has been. Changying sniffles and buries her face into his stomach. Her stomach growled as she looks away.

“You seem hungry. Sit down.” He smiles. She knows that was a command.

She looks at the table, trying not to frown but does it when Fong gives her a warm bowl of soup. She smiles weakly at Fong and Fong scolds her for eating too fast.

“All you do after that is throw it back up Ying. Your stomach isn’t that prepared to eat a lot of food like you used to.” Fong spoonfeeds her the herbal soup, hands shaking.

Absentmindedly, she knows this isn’t right– it’s all messed up, she nearly chokes on the soup. But the China she knew years ago is forever gone. Fong puts down the spoon in order to feed himself too. Both siblings are suffering and they each tell their tale.

Changying’s been sold by her school teacher in order to make dues to the Chinese trade of slaves. Her owner let her loose when she couldn’t do anything within the first month and beat her. She had a friend but he died and had been fed to the wolves. Changying watched in a gilded cage in horror, tryng to break free and save him.

Her fingers burned as the wolves ate their last dinner and got shot with a short pistol. Nothing went right until she freed herself due to newbie guards. One of them pitied her enough to have 5 minutes of freedom. She went back to her house but she couldn’t find anything. The new residents just glared at her in fury and scorn.

She lowered her head into her knees and listened to Fong. Fong didn’t know how to start it but eventually, he told her everything.

“Mom and dad were killed. And then I joined the Underworld.” Changying looked at him, mortified for Fong and clung on to him as he reapplied his wrappings on his knees and patted Changying on the head.

“Fong! What happened to them?” She couldn’t believe it.

“Ying, they were pulled into some mafioso territory and got shot to death. No one even attended their funeral thanks to some threats I heard on the streets. But then I got thrown out onto the streets and started working for some Triad member. He’s dead now…” His voice got slightly distant. “Now I’m up to par with the spoiled brats that have more muscle mass and food. Of course I can kick their ass, I’m the disciple of one of the strictest tutors and this is him going easy.”

Changying’s eyes widened but she still furrowed her brows. “But what if they make you do something dangerous??? Like a suicide mission.” Her heart skipped a beat when she imagined it.

No home. Cue her hyperventilation.

A few hours later, she peacefully slept on the dirty mattress as Fong put on his slightly damp clothes on with a pair of new shoes (3 months??? He cleaned it everyday) and new socks that help him feel warmer at the speed he usually goes at in order to attend each Trial.

“Good night, Ying.” He gently placed a western coat over her shoulders.

On this foggy night, Fong could see a bonfire and drugs placed everywhere. He blanched when one of the newbies showed up with a bunch of illegal firecrackers in his pants.

The man bursts into sparks, howling in joy from the adrenaline. Fong angrily curses him out and everyone stares at Fong in amazement until Fong gets his face all bloodied by knuckledusters.

The other cronies laugh in a hypocritical way, stepping away from the leader with rapid steps and almost pissing their pants in one way or another. Fong tries to retaliate and happens to catch both arms but then Changying’s name is shouted. He slowly turns back-

He’s taken off guard and his face is buried into the dirt with 3 pairs on hands on his shoulders and hands.

Fong grit his teeth to stop himself from lashing against Triad members who caught word of his cousin’s arrival.

They jeer at him til morning comes and he is so tired, his braid isn’t even held in place anymore and it’s the one thing he thought they couldn’t mess up.

Changying opens the door the next morning to goad Fong into sleeping as she roughly rubs off the dark spots of dirt off his face and chest.

Changying pauses to get a new towel when she looks closer near his collarbone and sees a branding.

The world shakes even more as she finds more markings. Not her big Brother. Her fingernails grow exponentially longer with a tint of purple in the roots of her fingers.

She’s gone in an instant, stomping all around town to find the nearest Triad newbies; they slunk towards her, smelling like her previous…owner. She quickly scratches their eyes out, smiling when they cry as soon as her claws reach their collarbones and sets their shirt on fire.

That’s not much. By the end of everything, they’re curled up on the ground in pain, some even slowly rotting and the leader of it all is just sobbing and she could see his snot as he begs for her to stop everything.

Changying stops and he cries gratefully, spitting at those dying. But then it’s too late to save him as she strangles him slowly and throws him into the lid of an abandoned trash can. Most of the survivors are in a mess of blood and hide as soon as Fong smiles at them coldly when they recover in the hospital.

The Triads are pissed and instantly confront Fong about this for a large amount of time. Each time Fong smiles and says no, something always tackling the main confronter, mainly a few girls that grew fond of Changying’s skittish behaviour but eager affection when caught off guard. The butchers on the corner spit on the Triad’s fancy coats and Fong all welcomes them with poison dripping needles.

Fong instantly gains more power and Changying is thankful for all the towels and hygiene products they own and can trade with the other neighbourhoods for.

Changying eventually learns how to shop on her own when Fong is busy on a mission with the girls in a human trafficking ring. It’s a bit scary but the grumpy Italian man helps her. Her pink eyes flash a thank you in morse code.

He insists on showing her how to haggle with the perm haired ladies and balding grandfathers and shitty people. Changying grins and bows, her bag of goods in his hand.

“Want me to walk you home??”

Changying hopes Big Brother isn’t home yet and agrees. Ying doesn’t learn much besides he’s from South Italy but she barely knows where Italy is and just comments on how interesting he was. And she was telling the truth for once.

“It was nice meeting you, Renato!”

Renato tips his hat as a good bye and shoves the bags into her arms while he holds the rusty door open for her. “No problem little miss-” he dodges the incoming fist that is from a darkly smiling Fong.

“Renato.” “Fong.”

They both dance in the air, Renato cursing as he left all his weapons behind save for a smokescreen and Renato is backed into the corner but sweeps Fong’s knee with his right leg.

Fong is taken over for a few seconds and instantly stable once again when Changying screams bloody murder and throws the goddamn teacups at both males like she was a profession at shotput or something.

“Get in here.” She calmly smiles at the two. They both glance at each other, dubious. She glares once again.

They have no choice and they’re pushed into the tiny house. She inhales, smile twitching like her left eyebrow.

“Why the hell are YOU TWO FUCKING FIGHTING? FOR FUCKS SAKE FONG YOU JUST FOUGHT THE MAN THAT HELPED ME SHOP FOR OUR FOOD AND RENATO THATS MY COUSIN GOD DAMMIT. You’re all pissing me off.” Changying sighs and stabs her juice box so hard it nearly exploded.

…well then.

Fong and Renato both glance at each other, slightly disturbed by an angry Changying. Two bowls of fish land on their heads as she laughs her ass off.

“Considering I’m 14 and both of you are like what… 18-20?? Shouldn’t you guys be mature? You sound like you’ve met each other anyways. Tell me how you met.”

Renato and Fong never tell her that they were both assassinating a corrupt tea house lady that had a flesh eating chihuahua with 3 heads….

They hope Ying never finds out and 2 weeks later Renato visits yet again for the nth time.

Fong tries to shut him out but Ying’s broom gets in the way and she has a saucer of black coffee for him and white tea for her and Fong. Not much happens aside from jabs at each other and dark glares while Changying isn’t looking.

She usually gets used to it unless they ruin her books or any type of curtains. That shit is expensive my friend and she refuses to use Fong’s money. Changying is a bit stingy about that and insistent incase something bad happens in general and they needed the money.

Then it became worse when Renato started handing over wads of cash and Fong smirked at the exchange as Changying grew more done with her two big brother figures.

“Renato! Stop giving me money! I have enough so you should stop handing over your money or else you’ll go broke!”

“Darling, this is nothing compared to what my clients give me after my missions.”

“Missions?”

“Fong didn’t tell you?? I’m an independent hitman who has a decent footing with the people. I get brownie points too, you doof.”

Changying pouts but nods in agreement. “I’ve heard of the Triads doing that. Are you Mafia??”

“Si.”

“That’s yes right?”

“Yes, little one.” Reborn smiles in amusement before his phone goes off. He groans and kisses her on the forehead.

“Yes?” Reborn places his hand on his hip. Changying muffles her giggle into her mouth as Renato continues to sigh dramatically and swing his hips.

“Sorry little one, I gotta go thanks to a personal client.”

“Renato!” “Yeah?”

“You may be a killer, but at least you have more morals than some of the civilians I’ve met. Stay safe.. big brother!” She kisses his chin because she’s too short but still. It’s the thought that counts.

Renato walks out, inwardly realizing how adorable Changying is with her light pink eyes and a row of yellow or blue flowers in her purple flowy hair. And it’s natural.

Fong nods in understanding as Renato breaks down in the middle of the road, screaming obscurities to himself while everyone’s at the market. The locals at the shop laugh behind their backs, nodding in approval at Changying’s choices. The old ladies babble about how good of a boyfriend Renato would be. The old men grumble and pout as they scale the fish.

“We have to protect Changying….I understand why you ended up almost murdering me the first time I saw her. She’s a lot more innocent than most girls.”

Thus the protect Changying squad was formed.

Both of them were gone for a year. That was when Changying got into the most troublesome job, in Fong and Renato’s opinion.

Changying finished all her chores and hummed to herself, taking a decorative knife with her. She glanced at the mirror, covering it up with a striped piece of clothing. The house is so dark that you can barely spot the trap wires and she maneuvers herself around the colorful wires and jump over the round rug right below the ceiling.

“Morning Ying!” A boyish girl laughs at her as she squeals and the door shuts loudly. Changying glares at her.

“Jia!”

Jia laughed again, tightly gripping Changying’s bicep, successfully dragging her all the way in the middle of town. Changying sighed and took a seat next to an old lady. Pink eyes met playful dark blue eyes.

The brunette smiled at Changying, her slanted bangs covering one of her eyes, “Hey! Hey! Did you hear about the local Chinese folks tryna make a circus?”

Changying perks up at the unfamiliar word. Circus?

“Ehhhh?? Chanyi, you’ve never heard of a circus before??”

“Haha, no.” Changying blushes and smiles sheepishly. “I never really did anything really fun with people and I couldn’t do much by myself. I get lost easily haha.”

Jia frowns thoughtfully and decides, “I’m going to take you to it now! They’ve been practicing for a bit now. Maybe you can take some inspiration from it for your traps.”

Changying hums happily as she is once again, dragged for a while, mind racing to a certain time.

(Jia was her new friend she met by accident. She was Russian and Chinese, new in the town. Changying wouldn’t know what to do without Jia. Changying was a recluse after her brother figures left her. At first she refused but Jia dodged her traps. Now they work together to make things a lot harder for her asshole brother figures and thieves. Changying was so amazed by Jia’s enthusiam that they both did actual research on optical illusions and traps.)

Changying yelped as Jia hopped forward, lifting her legs up in a bridal style, dodging all the people screaming at them and 5 minutes later, she was able to focus on all the Chinese music bouncing off the streets and a red lantern floating over her. Children screaming around her ears,

Changying sighed and avoided all the people running all over the roads. Soon, an overwhelming sight greeted her as she pushed through the crowds of people and paper curtains everywhere. Her eyes widened when she saw the tent of circus performers. They looked so pretty!

Her eyes sparkled and Jia covered her eyes, trying not to get blinded.

A few days later; Changying slowly warmed up to the people, albeit shyly, and the others welcomed her.

A few weeks later, Changying was already part of the circus tent, slowly crawling onto a Liger. Her back arched slightly as she put the crown of bells on the Liger. She whimpered when the Liger growled, slightly shaking its body but Changying was immediately off the liger.

She smirked and took the sack of money from grumbling man in the back of the room. The liger didn’t care about them and just stared at Changying. She quickened her pace before anything else happene-

The door slammed, an angry dark skinned woman stomping her way over to the area, screaming for no reason and then the Liger ate her.

Everyone screamed bloody murder.

Well.

That was a thing, Changying smiled nervously. One of the acrobats patted her on the shoulder, replacing her blood stained sweater with a black and red cloak while smiling at her casually.

“Don’t worry about anything! Our animals eat a lot more flesh than normal people. But they recognize people’s behaviour and are designed to eat those who get in the way. We’re probably one of the most dangerous but safest in the area.”

Changying sighed, thinking to herself as they dressed her in accessories.

Of course Jia has to choose the most dangerous circus… I might as well join the chaos. Changying snapped back to reality and grinned with shark teeth.

Jia yelped, dropping her whip and red flats. She looked at the strange aura her friend emitted and tiptoed away with her belongs to the backstage.

“Jia~”

“YING WHAT THE FUC-” Jia got slapped

“Language!” Changying wagged her finger at Jia, who was fucking terrified. Who knew her best friend could travel 40 yards within the blink of an eye?

After Jia’s slight heart attack, they both got ready and Changying tightened her and Jia’s hairbuns and stuck in tiny pins.

Later that night, it was a successful show. Changying was a stunt performer who dabbled in fire acrobatics and Jia introduced everyone and was one of the many people who pulled out volunteers for several events.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Thank you for the show and we’d like to give out one more prize for 2 volunteers!” A huge amount of hands instantly waved to Jia, wanting something.

Jia grinned and yanked out an Italian man and the other man in a pure red chinese top. The Italian was fluent in Chinese and talked with the other man. Jia’s smile was a bit strained since they ignored her but then she yelped as Changying kicked her ribs softly.

“Changyi!!!” Jia whined, rubbing her sore stomach.

“Jiaaaaaa!” Changying giggled, secretly glaring at the two volunteers, as she hugged Jia. Jia blinked.

“You know them two?”

“Of course! They’re the big brother figures I talked about! The one in red is Fong and the one in black is Renato.”

Jia just gave the giant box of mooncakes and coin chocolate to both of them and announced the show’s end. Most people didn’t want to leave but then Jia swung her whip at the stubborn Triad members. Jia smirked as they squealed like babies.

“Jiaaa. Was it that neccessary?? Besides, I think they were flirting with the wrong girl.”

The brunette stared at her in disbelief, slowly twitching. “You’re the only girl who’s shorter than most people and you have purple hair and glow in the dark flower crowns….. I’m pretty sure they knew it waas you.”

Fong and Renato gave the trio of Triad members a death stare. They all shivered. Changying just smiled mysteriously.

“I’m sure there’s another girl!” She reasoned. “Maybe they thought I was new and wanted to help me…???”

“Just don’t.” Fong, Jia, and Renato’s voices deadpanned at Changying. When the brothers came home earlier, they were surprised by a bunch of pressure tile traps and etc. The whole house looked like a mess until Changying arrived and set the house on purple fire.

“How are you doing that??” Renato and Fong gaped.

“Oh uh…I may have almost died and apparently I have dying will flames…. Jia told me. She’s also part of the mafia like you two.”

Renato rolled his eyes and hugged Changying tightly. Fong waited for his turn.

They were all tired as fucK.

(notes: Skull is obviously Changying and she’s cousins with Fong. She’s an acrobat and that is a heart attack inducing occupation but as long as she’s happy and not dead, Renato and Fong are okay with it.Changying(skull)’s parents were dosed with mist flames when Changying got sold. They themselves have forgotten they had a family and the both split up, feeling distorted in their relationship. Renato is the 2nd heir to a mafioso family but ensures that he won’t become the head due to heavy security provided by his allies that he asked (blackmailed). He’s made it his goal to become a famous hitman. His old teacher used to be one of the best even if he was a spartan tutor. Renato has the personality of a brother who gives no shits about what he says in front of old ladies.Fong and Renato often meet each other by accident and they hate each other so much until Changying(skull) makes them get along due to existing :)Jia is just a random background character that’s a very sneaky lady. She’s slightly older than Changying and has an obsession for cute things. Changying doesn’t know this thankfully. Jia may or may not keep every article that Changying has given her throughout the year. Jia is a scholar and went here on a whim. She’s very rich but very cheap about many things excluding food or necessities.and Changying is very very innocent as stated in this au fic. Not much to say about the cinnamon roll except that she could kill people if she wanted to but she has too much self restraint and would have the strength of a marshmallow if not for her acrobatics regime along with helping everyone in her neighbourhood out. She stronk lmao. Only bends over for people she really likes. Knows like people who see her everyday and won’t remember the time she accidentally saved an important man’s life and got a bunch of raises in her old job. Has the best luck in the world when it comes to shoot outs in China. She nearly died thanks to a bullet and that’s how she ended up activating purple flames. thank you for readingggggggg :DDDDD)ps: idk why I do this lmaooo. Fem skull is one of my aesthetics :)

#Skull Fon and Reborn Meet First AU #khr #katekyo hitman reborn #katekyo hitman aus #reborn khr #skull khr #fon khr #katekyo hitman fics #fem!skull #submission

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skvaderarts · 3 years

Text

Hiraeth Chapter 31: Reinstate

Chapter Thirty-One: Reinstate

Masterlist can be found Here!

Note: Sorry for the upload being a few hours late. I had one of those days where something happens and it just pisses you off, so you take a nap and when you wake up, it’s 8pm. SMH.

(-~-)

One week Later…

Stretching on and on for what felt like miles, the looming, almost oppressive structure towered over them like some sort of vast Eldredge monstrosity. Clad with dark brick and even darker windows, there was no clear-cut indication that the residence was even occupied, aside from the immaculate condition in which the grounds were kept. Although slightly overgrown in regards to the thick ivy that clung to the top of the high wall that bordered the corner lot, and the equally thick secondary, almost blue variety of foliage that crawled up the grey and red bricks that covered the home, it seemed deliberate. All of the hedges were cut, all of the thick cypress trees had been pruned, and not a single blade of grass was out of place on the side of the fence they occupied. Even the flowers themself that stood tall, basking in the glow of the mid-morning sun seemed to be too well-shaped. It was as though someone had meticulously plucked every petal in order to force the buds to form a certain shape, or that had been purposely bred to do so automatically. All in all, a very strange sight.

Admittedly, the top of the gate and walls were no different. In addition to being a frankly overkill solution in regards to keeping out unwanted visitors, every wrought iron spike and delicate curl stretched upwards in perfect uniformity, abnormally clean, and clearly under the care of someone who was more than slightly obsessed with the upkeep of the environment around the manor. It was one thing to clear away debris and old plants, but to polish the gates in an attempt to keep their natural shine for as long as possible? That was something else. That would literally take forever, and it would have to be done constantly. Who had the time or the inclination to do something like that?

Nico had insisted on coming, certain that she would have some new and exciting stories to share with Rock the next time she talked to him. Maybe she could send him pictures? She felt like he might be into that, but with everything going on at the moment, it probably wasn’t wise to start contacting members of her family. Who knew who might be watching. The last thing that the plucky young gunsmith wanted to do was unknowingly contribute to the death of one of the people she cared about most, especially when they were family. She just knew that she would never be able to forgive herself for doing something like that, even if it hadn’t been her intention.

On either side of the gate were what seemed to be guards. They stood there like statues, unmoving sentinels with a clear and defined purpose: to keep outsiders from entering the grounds unless explicitly permitted by someone from within the building. And by the looks of it, they were nowhere near that lucky. Despite the fact that they had now walked the distance of the entire wall, no one from within seemed to have noticed their presence yet, more than likely mistaking them for simple passers-by. It was an easy enough thing to do, considering how gloomy it was. The cool breeze and light rain hadn’t helped their odds of being noticed sooner rather than later. Umbrellas tended to block your line of sight.

Peering through the gate from afar, not much more than the stone path that led to the front gate was visible from this angle. What looked to be a front door was present a few yards away towards the left of the property, but they couldn’t be sure from here. The cypress trees that lined the half-circle driveway made being able to discern these things from as far back as they were challenging. Still, they needed to gain entry to the property, so they were apparently going to have to bite the bullet and give up the element of surprise a little. How unfortunate. They had been hoping to maintain that for as long as they could.

Approaching the gate, Magnolia stopped for a moment and took a long, slow breath before proceeding to press the call button on the gate. Vergil noticed, but said nothing. It wasn’t his place to, and he knew that better than anyone else here probably did. Only once had he walked the halls of this establishment, and it had been so brief and so long ago that trying to recall the specifics felt like trying to remember the details of a dream you had experienced decades ago. He had been an entirely different person then, but coming here had been a decisive move on his part that had proven to be a positive decision despite the path it later sent him down.

When no one responded, she cleared her throat before turning to one of the guards. Perhaps one of them would hold the answers to why she was still standing here without a response of any kind to fall back on. “Excuse me kindly, sir. Surely someone is home? I’ve never seen this place empty in the four decades that I’ve walked this earth.”

The tall man turned to her, seemingly dismissing her existence outright. He didn’t seem at all pleased to have her standing anywhere near the gate. “I’ll have to ask you to move away from the property line. The lady of the house isn’t accepting guests. The property is on lockdown, you see.” He paused for a moment, seemingly distressed by something that he had just said. After adjusting his collar, his tone became sterner, more than likely a direct result of him noticing the fact that she had company for the first time. “Don’t trouble yourself with the details. They aren’t important. Just vacate the premises, ma’am.”

She got the impression that he had said more than he was supposed to, and that in of itself was enough to pique her curiosity. It was very rare that something like this happened, but now she got the distinct impression that she understood why seemingly no one was home. They were all safely inside of the confines of the manor, guarding themselves against some unknown threat. That was worrisome. They didn’t tend to hide. “Lockdown? Whatever for?”

”I’ve said more than enough already. Off with you.” The man said, clearly miffed. The guard on the other side of the gate seemed to notice the situation, turning around to face them both. It seemed that if she needed to be removed from the premises, then he would be part of the solution. But upon noticing who his partner was talking to, he stood at attention, motioning for the other man to stop speaking. He stepped forward and looked at her closely, tilting his head to the side slightly before standing at attention again, mouth agape.

“Pardon my intrusion… but are you… It is you!” The man recoiled in surprise, motioning for the other guard to stand aside. Clearly confused, the other man did as he was instructed, but gave his compatriot a skeptical look as he did so, clearly not comprehending what all the fuss was about.

“We were told not to allow-” The first guard started, looking between his partner and the strange woman at the gate, the latter of which was giving him a fierce look of disapproval in regards to his treatment of her thus far. The older guard shushed him, clearly not entertaining any further interruptions on his behalf. This conversation was over.

“Belay that. Do you have any idea who you just disrespected?” The older guard asked as he unlocked the front gate and slid it to one side, nodding politely to Magnolia as she and the others entered the front gates. Vergil didn’t pay the man any mind, but Dante, Nero, Nico, Lucia, and V were thoroughly perplexed. Didn’t Magnolia’s family live here? How did no one here recognize her? Sirrus didn’t seem surprised by their reaction, but he did seem slightly agitated.

“Forgive him, Lady Ludwig. He is new here, and he has no idea who he is speaking to. Please, you and your guests are welcome to enter. I will alert one of my benefactors to your presence. Please, enjoy your visit.” He stepped out of her way and moved to close the gate again, much to the ire of the other guard who was clearly still out of the loop as to what was going on. “It has been quite a long time, has it not? Not to be insensitive, but I thought you long dead! When you approached the gate, I thought I had just seen a ghost!”

“Think nothing of it, Briar. Family affairs drove me away, and family affairs have brought me back. That is simply the way things work around here.” Magnolia bowed politely, a tired but happy smile on her face. This was going to be a long day, wasn’t it? “It is good to see that you are well, however. Seeing you here after such a long time… it was a pleasant surprise. I trust that my little sisters are here?”

He nodded, gesturing towards the front door. “That way, ma’am. Lady Aluta is out of town, but Madam Willow should be back shortly. She had to step away on an important business trip. I can’t imagine she won’t return before dinner. She never misses it.”

“Of that, I have no doubt. That would be unlike her.” Magnolia’s face was plastered with blatant discomfort at the prospect. There had been a part of her that had hoped to run into her youngest sister. Aluta was concise and brutal at times, but she was logical and level-headed above all else. Utterly ruthless and cunning, but able to be reasoned with. On the other hand, Willow could be very…

Just then, the doors to one of the third-story balconies above them flew open, and out stepped a young woman with soft brownish-gray hair. It trailed down towards her waist as it and her long gray robe blew in the wind, her eyes traveling towards the gate. After a moment, they settled onto Magnolia, and she gave a surprised gasp. “And just when I thought my day could not become more interesting! Tantine, is that you?! At last, you’ve come home!”

Magnolia gazed up at her before her eyes went wide, and she covered her mouth with her hands, clearly taken aback by the sight that unfolded before her. “Hydrangea is that you, ma chérie?! Surely it hasn’t been that long?! Little lady, when did you get so… tall?!”

Without warning, the young woman vaulted over the railing, eager to meet up with them. Alarmed looks crossed the faces of both Nero and Nico as they watched her plummet towards the ground, while V starred on in hesitant expectation. He had the feeling that she knew what she was doing, but it was still alarming to watch her vault over the edge like that. But surely someone her age knew how to not fall to their death off of a tall building like this? There was no way that she would have done that if she didn’t think she’d be able to land safely. At least he hoped so. He would find out soon enough either way.

V’s assumption proved to be correct a moment later when about two-thirds of the way down, her fall slowed somewhat, and she was able to come to a gentle stop on the gravel coated pavement, the young summoner noticing for the first time that she was barefoot. Dante and Lucia shared a curious look, but said nothing, seemingly just along for the ride at this point. Sirrus snickered, shaking his head. Oh yes, he never got tired of this place. He needed to visit more often.

As soon as she stood all the way back up, she sprinted over to Magnolia, throwing her arms around her and hugging her tightly. Magnolia reciprocated the gesture, lifting the small structured young woman off of the pavement as she embraced her, clearly overjoyed to see her. It really had been that long, hadn’t it? Goodness…

I am so sorry that I have not come to see you sooner! I received all of your letters, and knowing your mother, it was probably quite the challenge to send them to me at all!” She shook her head as she lowered the young girl to the ground, clearly considering something that she hadn’t prior to that moment. But they would have plenty of time to take a trip down memory lane once they were inside of the house. The rain and wind were picking up speed, and it was starting to become unpleasant to stand outside in the cold, unwelcoming conditions. “Should you ever wish to stop by, my doors are always open to you, dear girl. Please know that.”

“Believe me, aunty Magnolia, I would never doubt that for a second. And now that I am old enough to make my own decisions, one of the first will be to visit you. I’m sure mother will be thrilled.” She shook her head, the sass in that statement evident. She then gestured towards the front entrance, surging forward in a sort of gliding sprint towards the front entrance, the ground barely moving under her feet. It was as if she were a skipping stone, skimming over the surface of a placid lake. “Hurry, let’s get inside. I hear there shall be a violent storm soon. Best to not be caught outside in it if you can help it. I don’t exactly know of a spell that can cure the common cold just yet.”

She stopped for a moment, turning in the direction of the front gate as she flagged down the guards. “Briar, I haven’t the slightest idea what you're doing out here at the front gate, but thank you. Please go inside and get out of these awful conditions. As for you, Benson…” She glared at the other guard, the man seemingly feeling the weight of his impoliteness crushing him in earnest now. A thousand different variations of regret and nervousness gripped him tightly as he awaited her decision. “... I’ll let the injured party decide what will become of you. We told you to watch the gate and turn visitors away. We did not instruct you to be inhospitable towards them. That’s my mother’s job.”

He nodded low, clearly not looking forward to Magnolia’s decision. “Forgive me, Ma’am.”

For a moment, Magnolia shook her head as she turned towards him, folding her arms across her chest. So this was her decision, then? There were so many decisions she could make based off of that kind of gifted authority, but there was no need to be sadistic or blow things entirely out of proportion. He was simply an overly loyal employee who had gone a bit too far in regards to his assigned duties. It wouldn’t be right for her to lambast him over it. “As you were, then. Return to your post.”

The guard looked relieved to still have his job, and eagerly returned to his station, more than likely going over how he had managed to get himself into a situation like that over and over again in his mind. He needed to be more careful going forward. As the group approached the front steps, Vergil turned his attention towards her, peering over his shoulder momentarily at the guard as though he himself had considered further action on her part. “You’ve decided to let it go. What a waste of a learning opportunity for him.”

Magnolia smirked, a light chuckle emanating from her closed mouth as she snorted through her nose. Vergil wasn’t entirely sure what she was so amused about, but he had the feeling that he had missed something pertaining to this situation. She was crafty. It was entirely possible. He didn’t verbally inquire as to what was so funny, but he did give her a curious look as they reached the steps that lead to the front door. She picked up on this and shook her head, realizing that he had misunderstood her intention.

“Let’s see if he feels that way after he stands in the rain for a few hours. You might change your mind, in that regard.” She said dismissively as they approached the front door, waiting for Hydrangea to open it. One could only hope that having spent as much time as he probably had around her family would have taught him not to get smart with strange women, but apparently, that was a lesson that had to be reinforced. “It won’t harm him, but it will absolutely give him time to reflect, and perhaps he will undergo an attitude adjustment.”

“Or perhaps he will be struck by lightning, and your dear uppity sister can hire a less openly hostile gateman. A net gain either way.” Sirrus said with a slight smirk as he passed her by, attempting not to laugh. His body had healed for the most part, but that didn’t mean that his ribs didn’t still hurt like hell whenever he laughed. It was best that he not push himself any further than what was necessary considering the state that he was in, even if he was positive that it probably wouldn’t do much.

A moment later, Hydrangea held out both hands and pushed them towards the front door, a loud clicking sound echoing through the space they occupied as the front doors flung open to reveal the entryway of the vast structure that they had been given such a hard time about entering. The young girl then turned to face them, a bright, proud smile on her face as she stepped back into the doorway and disappeared, only the sound of her voice remaining as the space occupied by the doorway rippled like water and overtook her.

“Welcome to Château Ludwig! Make yourselves comfortable. Tea will be out shortly.”

(-~-)

I hope you liked this chapter! This was a blast to write! I’ve been wanting to get a little time for Magnolia in, and I think this was probably the best way that I could accomplish that! Your comments on the last few chapters have been amazing, and they always make my day when I read them!

The cover art will be done within the next week, and then I will be getting the first test prints in to take pictures of! I hope you end up liking it!

#V #Vitale #Devil May Cry 5 AU #My Post Devil May Cry 5 AU #Magnolia #DMC #DMCV #DMC5 #Devil May Cry #Post Devil May Cry 5 #Devil May Cry V

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chimchimeebabo · 6 years

Text

Euphoric Ecstasy: Part 2

Jungkook X Reader

“N-no...” I mumbled under my breath, feeling my pussy grow hotter and hotter under his intense gaze.

“What the fuck did you just say princess?” Jungkook barked back, making me feel small once more.

But I wasn’t gonna just let him dominate me like this, I was gonna show him who was really in control.

“I said no, Jungkook.” I smirked, raising my brows seductively as I slowly began to gain my confidence.

At first he was taken aback, but then switched back to his stone-cold demeanour. His hands twitched by his side and his head tilted to the right, as if observing my every move.

I slowly inched away from the bed, making sure to grab the handcuffs that were always under the bed in case of any emergencies. I chuckled to myself in the darkness as I knew Jungkook was completely unaware of my actions.

Slowly, I pushed him onto the bed and grabbed both of his hands, using up all of my strength to cuff his hands and legs to the bed.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Jungkook spat, gritting his teeth in seething anger.

I was ready to tame the beast...

“I just wanted my revenge on you Kookie, I just wanted to make you jealous,” I fake pouted, trying to stop the smile that was threatening to creep onto my face.

“Now be a good boy for me and don’t cum until I say so.”

His only response was a deep growl, and judging by the hardness of his crotch, he was already turned on.

Slowly, I began stripping my dress off, the dim light from the bright city lights the only reflection on my body in this room.

Other than it was just pitch darkness.

I then began, taking my bra and panties off, leaving me in nothing but my naked form.

“I swear to god, once I am out of these cuffs I’m going to fuck you merciless.” He grunted, licking his lips at the sight of my bare, glistening body.

I sucked my fingers slowly, dribbling saliva all over them.

I then began to touch myself, massaging my nipples and my clit, all at the same time.

“Mmmmm-fuck!” I cried out in pure bliss, throwing my head back at the sight of Jungkook feeling so helpless in the situation.

I crawled onto his erection and began grinding, steadying my pace just enough to keep him wanting more.

“Y/N, keep going baby, fuck...” He groaned under his breath, attempting to place both hands on my hips.

“Uncuff me now.”

“Not yet,” I giggled, gliding my hands through his shiny, brown locks. “I’m not done yet daddy.”

I trailed my hand along his jawline, peppering kisses from across his chest down to his abdomen.

I then took his belt off and straddled his hips, stopping him from any movement whatsoever.

Once he was finally in nothing but his boxers, I smirked in admiration at what I had done.

******

“Baby, your cock looks so good, I can’t wait to taste it...” I whined, biting my lip as I pumped his length hesitantly.

“Fucking suck it babygirl, I wanna feel the back of your throat, I wanna cum in your mouth...” He sighed impatiently, his face beginning to grow pale and his eyes darker than before.

I giggled once more and kitty licked the shaft of his cock, stroking it faster and faster with each pump.

I earned a few more moans before putting the whole thing into my petite mouth.

“Mmmmm,” I moaned, gagging on his big, thick length. “You taste so good daddy.”

“Kitten, I’m gonna make you scream so loud that the neighbours are gonna have to complain,” Jungkook chuckled, trying to maintain his breathing. “Have your fun for now.”

I sucked all the way up and down, fitting every single inch into my mouth, not missing one bit.

I relished in every single groan he was expressing, feeling myself grow wetter and wetter. I needed him so badly, but I couldn’t show it yet.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” Jungkook breathes raspily, his eyes rolling back in euphoric ecstasy.

“Too bad,” I smirked, pulling away from his cock, a string of saliva and cum running down my lips. “Sorry Kookie, maybe next time.”

“Y/N! If you don’t make me cum I won’t fuck you for a whole week.”

I laughed in response, knowing he wouldn’t be able to resist me for that long.

“My turn.” I smirked, uncuffing his hands free from the handcuffs.

I instantly regretted it, seeing his mouth rise up into a wicked smirk.

“I wouldn’t have done that if I was you...” He tutted in false disapproval.

He grabbed my wrists and flipped me over, stopping me from escaping. My breathing was growing heavy once more as I attempting on grabbing the handcuffs, but to no avail as he got there first.

He grabbed my wrists and cuffed them to the bed posts.

I signed in defeat, my arms and legs falling limp.

“Kitten, I think I need to teach you a lesson,” Jungkook purred, flipping me over so I was on my stomach.

“Count.”

I whimpered, knowing what was next to come.

His harsh, firm slap was the only noise in this room.

This was the only touch I had received from him on my lower region all day, and I had relished in the pain and the pleasure all in one.

“One!” I cried in out in agony.

Again.

“Two!”

Again.

“Three!”

After seven more sharp slaps to my ass cheeks, I was practically weeping, my ass red in the air and my cheeks red also due to embarrassment.

“Has my slut of a kitten learnt her lesson?” Jungkook asked, although he didn’t require an answer.

I nodded, sniffling in response.

“Know your place next time.”

He hummed in approval at my obedience and flipped me over once more so I was now facing him.

“Please touch me, please daddy!” I cried out, feeling my core ache for his damned touch.

“My baby is impatient, huh?”

I nodded eagerly, receiving a dark chuckle in response.

“I’m going to ruin you, and I’m going to ravish in it.”

I already felt ruined due to his words, and the knot in my stomach was only growing more and more, waiting for pent up release.

He blew his hot breath over my core, causing my body to jolt up in less than a span of two seconds.

His hands began massaging my perky breasts, as my breathing grew heavier once more.

One hand was on my breasts and one hand was currently trailing its way up my inner thigh.

Taking his hands off my breasts minutes later, he began to pay full attention to my pussy lips, as the juices literally began to ooze out. All for him. He licked his lips and plunged forward, licking up a stripe and down again.

“Shit babygirl, you taste so sweet..” He smirked, inhaling my scent as if it was intoxicating to him. He began sucking my clit viciously, leaving me a complete mess before him.

“Ahhhhh, don’t stop!” I whined, digging my fingernails into the crook of his neck.

I attempted to close my legs due to the pleasureable shock it was giving me, but he kept them open with his strong arms, causing my juices to ooze out with even more ease.

His fingers replaced my clit as he began attacking my hole with his tongue and his mouth onto my juicy pussy lips.

He was eating me out so intensely that all I needed was his fingers inside of me and I would automatically cum.

His fingers began making it’s way to my hole, shoving its way in without any warning.

One, two and three fingers were added in.

“Daddy!” I screamed so loudly the whole street could hear, but I didn’t care.

All I could focus on was the way his long, slender fingers were pumping into me so rapidly.

My body was on overdrive and I knew I was gonna cum any moment.

“I-I’m gonna-I’m cum-“ I couldn’t even form proper coherent words as I began to ride out my orgasm but was stopped to a halt as he glided his fingers out of my hole with a pop.

I cried out in annoyance, my full on pout making him almost feel bad.

“Now you know how it feels...” He chuckled, putting his fingers into my mouth.

I sucked on them as if I was sucking on an ice lolly, or most preferably, his cock.

He bent down and kissed my lips roughly, our tongues fighting for dominance. Of course though, he won, as per usual...

“Daddy, please!” I whined out in protest as he wasn’t giving me what I really wanted.

“Please what?” He teased, rubbing my clit harshly as I digged my fingernails into his shoulder blade.

“Fuck me so hard I won’t ever be able to walk again, put your deep, thick cock inside of my pussy, please!” I practically screamed, sighing at the end of my begging.

“Will you ever look at Jimin again?” Jungkook questioned, raising his brows.

I shook my head nervously, swallowing down a dry gulp.

“Good, because you’re all mine..”

“This pussy is all mine...”

“I’m all yours daddy...”

He postitioned himself at my entrance upon hearing my words, smirking to himself, clearly satisfied.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you kitten.”

Without any warning he rammed into me full speed, causing me to scream out in pain.

“Fuck, daddy!” I screamed out again as he held my body on top of his huge length. I couldn’t contain my cries any longer.

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scriptmin · 7 years

Text

Absolute Yoongi

Summary: But then what good would he make as an outlaw if he did not take risks? If he did not play with risks? It’d been years since he’s had this much fun.

Yoongi would think that after an entire decade of running with various packs below ground, he would have discovered all there was to see of the side of the world relevant to his survival and livelihood. A heart seasoned, hardened, against unimaginable cruelties, gore, immorale, knives that were not always metal blades—but rather, the words slipped from cunning tongues—plunged into the backs of former allies, comrades, friends, family, drummed unfailingly beneath cement-like ribs broken and repaired beyond count.

Yet as he slinked low in his seat, housed by the warm fumes of drip coffee and fresh bakes on the day of Sabbath, an entire twenty-four hours traditionally dedicated to rest and recovery—deserving even for the most inhumane—it would be a lie for him to claim that he foresaw the elephant-like stomps of a figure that perhaps did not even break five feet, the sudden occupation of the seat across him and the slamming of crisp, white documents imprinted with neat black wording in rows and rows of unintelligible phrases before him.

He did not quite expect a pair of round, curious eyes of toffee staring back at him, intercepting his field of vision with sentiments displaying a hardened resolved, yet those same toffee eyes were wavering, shaking, signs of a fallible confident front that seemed to crumble inch by inch as the seconds ticked by, a silence bursting at seams to be addressed. Yoongi merely balked.

Who is this girl?

“W- Well, what are you waiting for? Go on, s- sign it.”

As Yoongi pondered every possible explanation for this pretty stranger to be sitting in front of a man who had not been expecting anyone’s company—the most likely reason being she had mistaken him for someone else—the documents on the table were flipped over by small, hasty hands, contents becoming legible now that they were faced in his direction. His eyes skimmed the surface, picking up the words “the provider”, “receiver”, “shall oblige and respect”, “aforementioned duties and boundaries”—and it slowly dawned on him that these phrases were clauses, the entire stack of fifteen pages no less a contract. But for what purpose exactly?

Yoongi eyed his newfound companion inquisitively—taking in the palpable anxiety that was quite literally oozing out of her pores as she sat perched like an owl, torso hunched forward in anticipation, her hands clamped between her thighs and the surface of the wooden chair beneath, in an attempt to perhaps conceal their trembling state. The girl was most likely sprinting to make her arrival, the sides of her forehead glistening with a thin sheen of perspiration, brunette strands having fallen loose from her ponytail, framing her oval-face with youthful, schoolgirl femininity. Yoongi hadn’t thought characters like her existed beyond novels, a character so full of naïvety and submission that a natural-born predator such as himself could not resist feeding off of.

Then the expertise that came with a decade of putting up pretenses, of sly, slick manipulation had kicked in, fueled partly by the attraction to the girl’s undoubted beauty, even if she appeared a tad too childlike for Yoongi’s usual tastes. It would make a rather entertaining story to recount with Namjoon over the beer they agreed to be having later tonight—it wasn’t every day a guy like him had some puny girl slamming down bizarre contracts in their faces.

And so Yoongi had reclined in masculine contempt against the backrest of his seat, right leg kicked up to rest by the ankle over the knee of his left. With lithe fingers, he had grasped the papers, lifting up from the table’s surface and holding it over his face, just low enough for him to peek over and observe the shifting pupils of the girl before him.

Yet in spite of all the other logical, practical reasons that flitted through his mind, his following actions were perhaps inspired by more emotional drivings, in the form of undercurrents of desire to break away from his mundane routine running beneath his skin, under his uncountable façades. And from the moment she entered his field of vision, a beautiful mess of disheveled hair and near-tangible nervousness, a sight no less than absolutely adorable, he knew that informing the girl of her mistake might just be the stupidest thing Yoongi would do in his life.

“What… exactly is this?” He began carefully, meticulous in crafting a front of recognition for her, yet not the contract.

The girl shifted and squirmed, unable to meet his eyes as she responded with equal caution, and perhaps embarrassment, “I- I had some time on my hands last night. Figured it would be good to have some established guidelines if we’re going to do this right.”

Yoongi squinted at the documents in his hand, a myriad of doubt and disbelief parading through his mind. Had this girl actually written up a contract for some guy she most probably found a random dating website? Could someone truly be so cluelessly endearing?

“Well then, I’ll have to read it before I sign, don’t I?” He tried to remark flippantly, thumbing through to the next page where he began to narrate its contents in an immaculately spiteful tone, “Let’s see now… The provider shall render services typical of a faithful romantic partner to the receiver in the below stated means, although it is preferred that he makes an effort to be creative beyond the provided examples: one, hand holding is an obligation in the presence of, though not limited to, members of family, friends and acquaintances. It is therefore recommended that he learn the names and faces of those listed in Annex A as soon as possible.”

Yoongi raised his brows, cracking his neck. “Two,” He eyed the girl pointedly, only being able to catch the crown of her head as her chin dipped, her gaze focused on something beneath the table—perhaps the twiddling of her fingers—before returning his line of sight to the document in hand, the beginnings of amusement faintly marking his lips. “He shall engage in displays of affection appropriate to that of a couple six months into a relationship, although kissing should be avoided unless a situation that potentially compromises the believability of the relationship arises, in which the provider must be the instigator of a mouth to mouth connection lasting no more than- this is a work of art, really.”

In response to the tossing of papers back onto the table, airy undertones of disbelief and blatant mockery apparent in his voice, the girl coughed, her voice tender and abashed, “I- I know it sounds ridiculous. But it will help prevent complications down the road.”

“Complications?” Intrigue at the prospect of uncovering more about the girl and her surely class-A backstory had propelled Yoongi’s body forward, his arms coming to rest at the edge of the table as he peered at her like stargazing telescopes, with every intention in the world to draw out once more the endearing shyness that had afflicted the swirling amber crystals in her eyes when she first came to him—and with much success. Yoongi smirked in triumph. “And what such complications might you have in mind?”

“Well…” Her head was angling down again, thicker locks escaping the grasps of her hair tie. Yoongi squinted, his hands itching with the urge to pull all that hair out of her face. Didn’t she feel stuffy? “You and I are entering a contractual partnership with specific gains—I need the performance of a boyfriend, and you get paid for doing it, we’re going to part ways once our objectives are met. The clauses will help us refrain from acting needlessly, so we won’t develop a genuine attraction to the other.”

Yoongi’s head tipped back, enlightened but exasperated, eyes rolling up to the ceiling before returning to the girl, only to find that she had remained stagnant in her position, unchanged in her logic, albeit there was a splash of rose across her cheeks, her bottom lip noticeably reddened having been subjected to the tireless gnawing between her teeth. At least with the angle of her head this way, she wouldn’t have noticed the feral-like prowl Yoongi’s gaze alone had on those lips of hers. He wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting, to be honest, but much like her sudden arrival, Yoongi certainly wasn’t expecting it to lead to becoming someone’s pretend-boyfriend.

Therefore yes, yes he was absolutely positive that this girl had to be fictional. In what kind of alternate universe had she been raised in to develop a personality as unorthodox as this? Or perhaps this was all an expertly orchestrated hidden camera prank broadcasted live— how many people were watching? How many were already laughing?

“Hello?” Came the gentle prompt, a tiny palm waving over the expanse of perplexity that was Yoongi’s current expression, his forehead creased, brows pinched, mouth half-agape. He blinked once, twice, then retracted his jaw firmly shut, gathering his composure. “Are you going to sign it or not? I actually have somewhere to be after this.”

“Pardon me,” Yoongi began carefully, “but remind me again why you opted for this instead of simply… getting a boyfriend?”

The petite girl across him huffed, supposedly in disapproval of his forgetfulness if he were to eventually become her fake boyfriend. But it was quickly overridden by dejection that had appeared in the form of slouching shoulders and gravity-pulled corners of her lips as she spoke, “You’re not my type.”

Yoongi almost choked.

“Finding a real boyfriend takes time, and I’m running on a deadline here. I just need someone to shut my sisters up.”

“And how did you find me?”

He knew he’d asked a wrong question when her features then contorted into that of confusion. “It was you who found me. How many clients have you had that you’re mixing things up?” A tiny fist true to her elfin stature came up to her lips, her own brows furrowing with thought as she mumbled under her breath, “Not good… not good at all…”

“Oh. Right… Man, I really have to get myself organized. Don’t worry though, you’re like, my only client right now.” Only half-appeased by his response, the girl dropped her fist, focus turning to Yoongi’s hands and how empty and unmoving they still were. Noticing her expectance and patience slowly wearing thin, he jerked them to action, arm reaching round to his back pocket to retrieve his wallet, withdrawing a chic, black card from one of its leather compartments. “I’ll look through this contract one more time before I sign myself over. Wouldn’t want you to waste all that effort into typing this up.” He was then sliding the card across the lacquered surface of the wooden round-table where he’d purposefully stopped, fingertips just barely grazing the side of her hand. The fervent fluster decorating her cheeks was juxtaposed with yet another sly, humoured grin on Yoongi’s part. “How about you go pick something you like from the bakery?”

“I already ate, actually.”

“I’ll have a hazelnut coffee.”

“O- Okay…”

And he watched her submit without much fight at all, a response that triggered yet another wave of dominant triumph as he clutched the papers and slinked back into the comfort of his seat, slowly becoming at ease in the presence of this stranger, despite their meeting only lasting ten minutes at best. He began investigation with Annex A, where he was met with a page full of little portraits, names and short trivia about each positioned just below the pictures. And it was in a span of another five minutes that Yoongi had gotten himself acquainted with all five other members of her family—her parents and their company owned an arsenal of five-star hotels across Asia. Her sisters were not too shabby themselves: the oldest was a third year resident at a university hospital, the second had just started writing for the city’s biggest newspaper, and the third was apparently traveling the world and holding art exhibitions for her high-value sculptures.

In other words, they were the ideal power family, perhaps having been the most recent generation of a long-running pedigree line of business execs, doctors, lawyers and other prominent figures. And it was in this background that he began to wonder exactly where she had her place.

Aside from being the stereotypical youngest child that everyone else doted on, and carrying signs of a well-fed, well-clothed rich girl in the designer clothing that looked terribly mismatched and unsuited for her, there was nothing about her personality nor aura that would constitute as one of them. If the timidness she displayed oh-so generously before him, a stranger, were to be replicated even in the safe and secure environment of her home, in the presence of closest kin, Yoongi was absolutely positive that she would be run to the ground.

“One hazelnut coffee and… that cheesecake thing over there- please? T- Thanks.”

The perfect prey for the perfect predator, Yoongi noted. She was utterly hopeless.

Bzz. Bzz.

True to the habits of a busy man, Yoongi’s hand had gone to the little black rectangle that sat upon his end of the table, the single press of a button illuminating a screen chock full of pending matters that screamed for his attention. He exchanged the papers for his mobile, part of his mind returning to true reality, but it was quickly noticed that none of these messages were recent. And it was then, in the peripherals of his vision, that a similar rectangle screen had gone dark on the other side of the table, this one in the colour of white and pink, the frame of the phone decorated by little cartoon stickers. Her phone.

With the fade-out, he had by sheer luck managed to catch a glimpse of a polite where are you? disappearing into the blackness after the notification had automatically timed out. And then, then he had been surely rattled out of his all-powerful, testosterone-induced pedestal when he thought of her real “contractual partner” contacting her, and her realisation that she had been sitting and quite literally revealing half her backstory to the wrong guy.

Yoongi had been the instigator of many despicable things, yet he never resented himself for any of it as much as he did for the vile temptation to invade the privacy which he himself valued to the point of ruthlessness should anyone dare breach it. This self-mutilation stretched further, deeper, along with the furtive glance spared her way to note that she had moved to a side counter, waiting for her order to ring up, and then his eyes had returned to the device, inside of his cheek caught between gnawing teeth.

Finally, his hand shot out, snatching the mobile and bringing it across the table, hiding it between his thighs as he allowed himself one peek at the screen. He found two pending messages:

[2:13pm] Kim Taehyung: Hey are you like late or something? Youre on your way to Wings café right? call me if you need help im already waiting inside.

[2:53pm] Kim Taehyung: where are you? i’ll wait for another 15 mins if not i’m just leaving

“Here’s your—”

“Wha- fuck!”

“—coffee…?” She was eyeing him strangely, almost judgmentally, as she returned to the table with a small tray in hand, a steaming takeaway cup and plate of cheesecake laid delectably atop it. Yoongi on the other hand was doing everything in his power from screeching, going red-faced trying to ignore the throb in his kneecap after he had jerked in surprise (totally guilt-triggered) and knocked his knees on the underside of the table, further cementing his belief in karma. “Are you okay? You didn’t come off as such a scaredy-cat.”

“I’m alright,” Yoongi tried to reply levelly, a phrase meant to assure himself more than it was for her. He quickly clipped the phone beneath his thigh. “I was just caught off guard.”

“That looked painful.” She was separating the contents of the tray now, placing Yoongi’s coffee on his side of the table and pulling the rest of the miniature tray towards her. And though her words were supposedly offered out of concern, it was blatantly obvious that the dessert on the table had captured her full attention, for she had not spared an extra glance his way after her initial reaction, toffee eyes excitedly trained on the cake slice.

Shaking his head, Yoongi merely returned the contract to the table, retrieving a pen from his jacket pocket. He had made sure to regard her the same attention she had regarded him with, adopting a faux aura of coolness, so it was only natural that he had delighted in the snap of her head when he clicked his pen, flipping in an I-couldn’t-care-less manner to the last page where two horizontal lines were positioned at the bottom, just below the concluding paragraphs.

The line on the left, labeled “provider’s name and signature”, was obviously blank, whereas the one the right had been filled up by a tiny scrawl in a sky blue gel pen. And… is that silver glitter? Yoongi had only barely managed to make out the scribbling, a signature which was just a disastrous conversion of “Y/N” into cursive lettering.

“Y/N.” Yoongi had repeated out loud. And he could swear her face had reddened just by the sound of her name. He brought the tip of his pen towards the black line, a blank that seemed as eager as the girl in front of him to be filled up. Aware and self-assured by her attention, Yoongi brought the tip down, meeting at last the crisp white sheet with smooth black ink. “Consider me signed over.”

“Huh. That’s it?” The girl remarked. “That’s your signature? Just ‘Kim Taehyung’ written out?”

“You’re not one to be making comments.” Yoongi tapped the butt of his pen against her own signature. “What’s up with the decoden pens? I thought this was a formal and leeeegally binding contract?”

When she had pursed her lips shut, a face of childish defeat overcoming the initial look of question, Yoongi never did realise that he had been smiling at her. Never did realise that in the span of fifteen minutes, this elfish girl with a devilishly adorable blush-reflex at anything he said had already carved a little spot for herself in the back of his consciousness, had gotten so settled in that for one reason or another, the protective and borderline paternal instincts which remained largely dormant in Yoongi, had begun to stir and awaken.

She was staring back at him. Perhaps having noticed that his gaze dragging on too long was a sign that his mind was someplace else. When Yoongi finally returned to the present, it was he, for the first time, who felt oddly jittery in his seat, the eyes that had been trained so dearly on her suddenly unable to find a comfortable place to rest, now that she was the one observing him.

Coughing and clearing his throat, Yoongi broke the silence. “Just eat your cake, babe.”

“I- I will…” And the atmosphere between them had returned to that of their initial confrontation—light, curious, and slightly awkward.

“So I’m a pretty open guy,” he then began, driving the open-ended exchange to an area with more purpose. He had to unlock her phone. “I don’t believe in hiding anything, so I think we can start off with exchanging phone passwords.”

“Isn’t that a little…”

“Why, you hiding something?”

A dash of pink had darted out the corner of her mouth, licking clean a tiny dollop of cream that had stained the edge. With a full mouth, she quietly answered, “No…”

Surely, such a poorly-planned and juvenile excuse would plant suspicion and doubt in the mind of any other girl. In this modern era where everything, from birthday reminders to intimate diary entries, was kept and stored away in handheld devices that never left the side of its owners, the revelation of something as personal as the password to this digital Pandora’s box was something most people would think twice, think triple, and still emerge with an answer along the lines of no.

Yet as Yoongi already gathered, this girl was no ordinary girl. This girl was one overflowing with naïvety, with untainted trust in humans until they blatantly acted out of line, and even then, her definition of overboard would be skewed to the point where she could be taken advantage of and wouldn’t even realise until the perpetrator himself bore a confession.

“It’s not like we’ll ever have the need to go behind each other’s backs right?” Yoongi was sliding his phone across to her, number pad to enter his password already prepared. He didn’t want her glancing at those more-than-questionable messages lined up on the screen. “Mine’s one-two-two-one. Try it.”

She transferred the dessert fork from right to left, and with her now free hand, tentatively keyed in the combination. The device was unlocked, number pad dividing to reveal the home screen of his phone.

“Your wallpaper’s pretty dark.”

He quickly locked it shut again, and her line of sight returned to him as he brought his own cell down to his lap. “Mmm. And yours?”

“Oh- hang on, I’ll get my phone—”

“No no no, it’s fine!” The girl froze, the look of perplexity much like the one she had given when he knocked his knees on the table returning to her face once more. Yoongi checked himself, then expertly removed the agitation from his next words: “You can just tell me.”

Adorably enough, her hands had stopped digging through the purse she wore slung across her torso, coming back to the table where she picked up her fork again. “Um, okay, it’s one-zero-zero-four.”

Yoongi’s hands were already moving under the table, retrieving the device that sat beneath his thigh.

“So what do you do, you know, for a living?” Whilst maintaining an innocent conversation chest-and-up, he had expertly keyed in the digits, maneuvering swiftly past the home screen and into her messages. Yoongi had intended to delete the chat entirely, but caught himself mid-swipe when he considered that she might notice the sudden absence of the chat, and instead opted to put a dead-end to all potential attempts of doubting his identity.

“Oh, I’m a college student. On my third year now.”

“Mm…”

[2:59pm] You: sorry I changed my mind. please don’t contact me anymore.

“You, um.” Yoongi jolted. “You must be pretty busy even on Sunday, huh?”

He’d quickly tucked the device back under his thigh, replacing the emptiness in his palm with his own phone in case she leaned over for a peek. “No babe, just settling some stuff. I don’t usually text while I’m on a date, I promise.”

“You don’t have to call me pet names, y’know. I mean it’ll be good to do it in front of people, but when it’s just us, it’s kind of weird. We only just met.”

“Well,” Yoongi began, one arm leaving the surface of the tabletop to reach for her fork. She gave it up to him without much thought, and he had nonchalantly fed himself a small piece of the cake before returning the utensil to her. “If we’re going to convince anyone of your new relationship status, we oughta start with convincing ourselves first, no?”

“I suppose…”

Bzz. Bzz.

[2:59pm] Kim Taehyung: uh… ok i guess.

Heh. Subduing a victorious smirk, Yoongi had deleted the four chat bubbles, wiping out all traces of the gaudy Kim Taehyung in her life. And then he was moving on to her contacts list, scrolling, scrolling down to the K section where he’d replaced the string of digits with his own number.

Done deal.

“You sure you’re not busy? You’re spending awfully a lot of time on your phone.”

More like your phone. Slipping her device back under his thigh, Yoongi returned to the conversation with full gusto, confidence boosted now that he no longer had to worry about her finding out about his cosplay acts.

“You’re right, no more of that. I’m all yours now.” The influx of undivided attention seemed to reel the girl back into her shy and awkward demeanor, for she had avoided the adoring gaze Yoongi had enveloped her in, opting instead to speed through the rest of her dessert.

“You said you had someplace to be afterwards, where is it? I’ll drop you off.”

“What? N- No, that’s not necessary. I’m just going to my volunteer session. We have family day every Sunday at the community centre downtown.”

Yoongi shifted, resting his cheek in his fist; a position that, although expressed his comfort in her presence, still conveyed enough about his interest in the matter. She appeared more at ease with this. “You volunteer? That’s cute.”

“Uh… Yeah. What about you? What do you do?”

“Me?” His head cocked, mostly out of reflex, as his free hand reached for his coffee, thin, pale fingers going round the warm circumference of paper. “I don’t do much.”

“Then what made you… do this?” She gestured roughly to the space between them, the flailing of her palm indicating the rather peculiar positions they now held in each other’s life. Internet strangers to pretend lovers. Yes, rather peculiar indeed.

While his partner seemed absolutely captured by the discussion, Yoongi was more than glad to be rid of it. “I was bored.” He shrugged, hand moving to swirl the brown liquid. “Needed something fresh in my life. Something… unexpected.”

His eyes flickered back up towards hers, and with the sudden focus her body had reacted completely instinctively— a small flinch, rapid flutter of lashes, a gaze that simply could not seem to settle on any one thing. Yoongi was smug about the power he held over her, but now he had become quite enamoured, deciding idly in the back of his mind that he could watch this girl all day and be able to ignore, suppress, the slow but sure crescendo of his heartbeat.

“O- oh, looks like I’m running late.”

In a blink, she was setting her fork down, abandoning the uneaten half of her dessert; she was gathering her bearings, her belongings, tucking the contract under her arm before she slung her purse back over her shoulder. And she stood, the screeching of the chair violently snapping Yoongi back to attention. “I have to get going.”

“Of course. Good deeds don’t magically get themselves done, now do they?”

Clack!

“Hey, I think you dropped something.”

Both her head and his had dropped to identify whatever it was that had landed on the varnished floorboards, although one of them already knew what it was. When she had bent down to retrieve what she already recognized to be her cellphone, Yoongi had shot out of his seat, beating her small, dainty hand to the chase.

Wiping the screen on the fabric of his jeans, Yoongi had presented the device to her, smug grin juxtaposed by her shy gratitude.

“T- Thanks.”

When her hand came up to grasp the phone, Yoongi had held it just a tad tighter, feeling her tug on the other end for a split-second extra before he finally let go, grin stretching wider.

“You’re welcome.” He observed her tuck the device back into her purse, his hands now clothed by the inner lining of his jacket pockets. Casually, he asked again, “You’re sure you don’t need me to drop you off?”

“I’m sure.” There was so much vibrance on her face, from the pupils in her eyes to the generous curve of her lips, her cheeks free from the peachy tones that had adorned them so faithfully throughout the entire meeting. When she wasn’t so busy getting flustered, Yoongi was able to sift out hints of elegant maturity that could have only come with age; the exact kind of beauty that pierced his every barrier and shook his soul to its core.

“Can I trust that we’ll be meeting again soon, Mr. Kim Taehyung?”

This newfound venture had the potential to develop into a weakness that led most who dealt in the underworld to their demise. And perhaps, Yoongi too could be risking more than he could foresee by reaching his hands out to her. She was a special type of danger, but his hunger for a good gamble overpowered all the cons, was driven by the amount of risks he would have to take. He knew well the adversities she could be exposed to by being roped into his world, however shallow and temporary her presence may be. And in a certain perspective, he might have even felt sorry that she had to mistake him, of all people, for her arranged boyfriend, considering not just any woman could have the will to stay with a man like himself. But then what good would he be as a gangster if he did not take risks? If he did not play with risks?

“Yes… yes, you can.”

It’d been years since he had this much fun.

#bts fanfic #yoongi scenarios #bts scenarios #bts fluff #yoongi fluff #bangtan fanfic #min yoongi

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aristocraticundyne · 7 years

Text

Things That Break - Wolf 359

Daniel Jacobi was, by definition, a pretty horrific person. By the age of 20 he was already responsible for thousands of deaths, isolated from whatever family he had left, and presumed dead himself by his 26th birthday. He was stoic and blunt, to a level of which usually much concern would be raised. But Jacobi was also talented at all the wrong things, chemistry, technology, clockwork. Bombs, explosives, tuning out the dying screams of thousands. Daniel Jacobi was trigger happy. Warren Kepler was also a pretty horrific person, for different reasons. He was successful, charming and mysterious. He was high up in the rankings of Goddard Futuristics business which meant he had authority and exercised it regularly. Kepler was a smart man, a professional man, but he lacked an army, he lacked tools, pawns to lead. Space travel was never a real consideration for him, he was paperwork and fountain pens and black ties. But there were some loose ends Cutter needed cleared up, and Kepler was more than happy to do the dirty work if it payed off for him in the long term. The Hephaestus station had been compromised, which wasn't really part of the plan, and Kepler had to go up there and take back control. Renée Minkowski, the only person up there that Kepler believed had any brain cells, had let her team slip. Goddard Futuristics favourite insane doctor Hillbert had completely ran off course, Escaped Convict Doug Eiffel was missing in action floating somewhere in the abyss of Wolf 359, Unit 214 kept breaking and Captain Isabella Lovelace had returned from the deep depths of literal death. This was one hell of a loose end. Warren Kepler compiled a team, his pawns. Super Scientist Alana Maxwell who was one hacked password away from the wrong side of the law and our dearest genocidal bomb expert, Daniel Jacobi. Skip to 4 months later, and it was the day before the Contact Event day. Where all Goddard Futuristics work built up to this moment, finalised proof of alien contact. Wolf 359 was unpredictable, no one knew what it would disperse out or what the effects would be on their ship or crew, but one thing was for sure; Kepler's ratings would go through the roof. He sat back in his leather chair, eyes closed and scotch in hand, dreaming of a life back on Earth. Dreaming of a reality where he could march into Cutter's office and show him he was worth it, worth the faked deaths and conspiracies and coverups, that it was worth breaking Doug Eiffel of all men out of prison, that it was worth letting Hillbert loose on the crew. He would be so proud of him. A small smile spread across his face at the thought. "Sir?" There was a crackled voice on the coms system, patched directly into Kepler's room, a private call. He recognised the voice. "Jacobi, it's late. What do you want?" Kepler's voice was smooth and calm like the midday sea. He always tried to deal with Jacobi kindly, he was a troubled boy but he meant well, and he was always loyal. "I think there's something we need to discuss, Sir, it's about the Contact Event" Kepler's smile faded a little and his mind switched to work-mode. There were so many things that could go wrong with the Contact Event that it barely warranted thinking about. "You can come in, Jacobi" Kepler said. After a few moments Jacobi was leaning on the side of Kepler's desk, thick boots to compensate for the weird gravity up here, Goddard Futuristics company blue overalls rolled down and tied at the waist, white tank top and grey slouchy hoodie. Jacobi didn't own and item of clothing that wasn't decorated with burn marks or oil stains or chemical stains, he was a scruffy kid, with barely any manners. "Sir..." Jacobi pointed upwards and stared at Kepler's disapproving expression. Unit 214 was always watching, listening, it was her job but it was also an inconvenience. Privacy was not an option on this ship. Kepler sighed and cleared his throat. "Hera...block out all sensory details you acquire from this room and regulate the oxygen and temperature levels. Jacobi and I need to have a private chat." Kepler always spoke like he was making a request, however everyone knew it was a blatant command. Hera, Unit 214, glitched slightly, she always did. Maxwell said they were working on it but everyone was aware that 'Working on it' simply isn't enough. "Yes Sir, removing all sensory system updates from your room" She said calmly and then the coms system went quiet. Jacobi visibly relaxed. "They are planning something" He said, staring at the wall. "We know they are, and we are on top of it. Right Jacobi?" Kepler raised an eyebrow. Jacobi nodded, his gaze falling to the floor. "Everything's covered Sir. If Lovelace or Hilbert try their secret room trick, all I have to do it click a button and-" He illustrated an explosion with his spread out palms and fingers. "And the others?" Kepler asked. "Maxwell has Hera sorted, Eiffel is harmless and Minkowski is nothing without her crew. Sorted" Jacobi turned to face Kepler, still not smiling. "Now now, I wouldn't say that Doug Eiffel is harmless, he is a convicted criminal" Kepler smiled wide as he reminded Jacobi of that, yet it was still a kind smile. Jacobi shrugged "Yeah well there's no children here for him to endanger so I think we will be okay" he looked back to the floor with a smirk. Kepler's smile lingered as he looked over Jacobi's features. "Jacobi, tomorrow is very important" The younger man tsked, a movement that bobbed his whole body a little "You told my family I was dead, perhaps I'll finally get to live up to their expectations after tomorrow." "Now now..." Kepler interrupted him "I don't want that negative attitude..." His hand landed on Jacobi's thigh. They had touched before, it was surprisingly rare to make any bodily contact up here because everyone was so busy and there simply wasn't any need for it. But a million miles away from Earth, the warmth of another human's skin was somewhat comfortable. Kepler often found himself with his arm around Jacobi's shoulders or waist, or with their hands touching, Jacobi's dirt clad, overworked hands tightly gripping Kepler's neatly cared for and large ones in times of stress. Not because Kepler needed the support, but because he felt Jacobi did. So it was no surprise when Jacobi didn't even flinch at the feeling of Kepler's heavy reassuring hand on his thigh. He was too caught up in his thoughts to notice it. "Jacobi-" "Do we get funerals out here, Sir? Or will you just throw my body into the atmosphere and let the star take it considering my family buried me 4 years ago" Jacobi stared at the wall as he spoke. Kepler smirked "Jacobi, you are over thinking things, tomorrow will be fine. Whatever happens, happens!" He smiled warmly and took a sip of his drink. Jacobi nodded slowly, and rested his hand ontop of Kepler's. "Tonight could be our last night alive, Sir" Kepler put his drink down "Technically it's always night time here, it's space..." Jacobi rolled his eyes and looked at Kepler "You know what I mean" He mumbled. The younger man stood up and walked around to sit on Kepler's desk right infront of him. Kepler leaned back with a chuckle as Jacobi looked him up and down. A full suit and tie, as always. "Sir, What do you miss about Earth?" Kepler noted how Jacobi's voice lilted like a school girl's as he spoke, asking a question to the only teacher and role model he had left. "Available booze, the order of it all, proper toilets, appropriately placed kitchen knives for me to stab you with when you get annoying" Kepler's lips curled into a smile and Jacobi chuckled, although they both knew that Kepler wouldn't hesitate to actually do so. "Did you have a wife? Kids?" Jacobi asked. Kepler shook his head and looked down to his own lap "Always too busy, I also despised the idea entirely. And you?" Jacobi laughed and smiled warmly "Can you imagine me meeting someone? 'So Daniel, what do you do for fun?' 'Oh I make explosives and I'm technically a terrorist, how's your meal?' Yeah no" Kepler chuckled deeply and looked to Jacobi "Isn't that how we met?" He reached both hands to explore Jacobi's thighs, he was a skinny boy, but Kepler still gained a sense of comfort and relaxation from slowly stroking knee to hip with open palms. Jacobi glanced at his hands "Yeah but you were recruiting me. It's different" he said shortly. Kepler sighed and dragged his hands away "Can I enjoy my scotch in peace now or is there something else you've thought of to say that's worth my time?" Jacobi thought for a moment "I guess I just wanna say that I'm thankful to be able to be part of this team. It's been an honour to serve under you Sir" He stood up and started to leave. Kepler had a ghost of a smile on his face "Sure...Jacobi, I'm not going to let you die alone tomorrow" His hand caught Jacobi's. Kepler needed something. A distraction, comfort, reassurance, he wasn't sure. Tomorrow was going to be hell. He would have to deal with the star freaking out, alien activity and half his crew turning against him. If he thought about it any longer he felt as though his composed and calm mind would split. Jacobi was scared. He was sure tomorrow's events would kill him, either the star or his fellow crew mates. And if he survived this, his friends might not, Kepler might not, and what would they do without a leader? He thought of his family and his mother, how they have already grieved for him. They wouldn't even notice his death now. Then he felt Kepler's firm hand in his, a contrast from the cold metal he was used to holding. He took a breath and slowly sat down again on his desk. Kepler stood up slowly, ending up between Jacobi's legs. He ran his hands up his thighs and to his hips and pressed their bodies together. Jacobi made a soft noise and melted against Kepler's strong frame, he closed his eyes and it was like being back in bed, his own bed at home in his quiet apartment surrounded by thick blankets and gentle heat. Kepler indulged himself in the feeling of another person's body in his arms, Jacobi was shorter and skinnier but the way his spine arched in to pressed against him, the way his hair smelt like chemicals and sweat and hard trustworthy work, and the way his breathing was soft and fragile in his ear but his heart pounded and fluttered in his chest, he was perfect. "Jacobi, I'm not going to let you die tomorrow" "You can't control that. We never know what the star is gonna do!" Jacobi's voice was low yet angry. "We know that something big is going to happen, we have everything ready and prepared. I trust that you have done what needs to be done. That being said...in the event that something does happen to you.." Kepler sighed with his whole body. For the first time, he fully considered losing Jacobi. It would be a loss to the team, he knew was to do in every situation, he was loyal and not always trouble. But Jacobi was also a pain in the ass, he was quick witted and opinionated. Kepler found his hands wandering up Jacobi's back, into his rough blonde hair, the younger male felt so right in his arms. "...If anything does happen to you, I'll hold you just like this..." Kepler finished. Jacobi's arms linked over Kepler's shoulders. He hid his head in the crook of Kepler's neck "Sir...is this uh, is this cuddle thing permanent?" Kepler pulled away a little, in order to see Jacobi properly. It was a long time since Jacobi had been held like this, since someone's body was this close to his own. The heat of Kepler's chest, the smell of his musky cologne, the way his arms wrapped around him so perfectly, it felt right to be this close. Jacobi felt Kepler pull away, his eyes fleeted over the elder's face and he felt a small pang in his heart at the loss of contact. Before he knew it, Jacobi was resting his lips against Kepler's. Kepler smiled and kissed back slowly, it had been years since contact like this for either of them. Space was lonely. Jacobi was impatient and sloppy, while Kepler, as always, was formal and calm. The two held eachother with wandering hands for what felt like a lifetime, yet it still wasn't enough time. Kepler pulled away with a gentle huff and Jacobi's casual smirk developed into a laugh. "Now now, Jacobi that was exceedingly unprofessional" Kepler smiled and stroked Jacobi's messy hair. "Hm, well in all fairness, Sir, we might die tomorrow and I'm not wanting to regret anything" Jacobi grinned. Kepler calmly slid Jacobi's hoodie off of his shoulders and gave him another soft kiss "So, crazy loose cannon Jacobi is afraid of dying, how...unexpected" "I'm not afraid!" Jacobi protested. "I just have so much left to work on. The Contact Point is kinda a big deal, and I might not get to work with the results after" "Whatever happens, happens. Don't let Eiffel, or the others, get in your way again. You're a smart kid" "You sound like Cutter" Jacobi snorted. "I'll take that as a compliment" Kepler smiled in a way that suggested he was up to something, he seemed to always smile like that. "Jacobi, would you do me the honours of spending your possibly last peaceful night, in here, with me?" Kepler sipped his scotch and smiled as he relaxed back into his chair, feet apart and legs spread. He was a devil of a man. And Jacobi was no angel. "Of course, Sir" Jacobi stood up off the desk with a smirk and lowered himself to straddle Kepler's wide lap. It was risky, and uncalled for and dangerous. In fact Jacobi was pretty certain that the folks back at Goddard Futuristics probably had this ship bugged, they were probably watching the whole thing. Kepler didn't care, he ran his hands down the sides of the kid who was known for breaking things and thought of a life beyond tomorrow, beyond the Contact Event. Everything would change.

#Wolf 359 #Daniel Jacobi #Jacobi #warren kepler #Kepler #Jacobi/Kepler #Wolf 259 fanfiction #space shiiiiiiit

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turnabouttoothbrush · 6 years

Text

Reckoning, Chapter Five

And rounding out the set, today we have Fallen, Aziz, and Cade.

(Happy belated Thanksgiving for the Americans in the audience!)

Cade: Hooo... I love Thanksgiving, but mostly for the cooking portions of it...

Fallen: I love the eating portions of it!

Cade: I know, I know, but... you know... current living arrangements and all...

Aziz: *snorts* Airey’s aunt didn’t ask her to help with any with the dinner arrangements, readers. It was... quite surreal, considering back home Thanksgiving dinner was usually at least 50% Airey’s contribution.

Cade: So by extension, me! And I guess we shouldn’t horn in on their family traditions, but seriously? Ours are so much better...

Fallen: Yeah, Nana’s stuffing might be salty but it’s loads better than the store-bought stuff.

Cade: Store-bought stuff is heresy!

Aziz: Can we just start the fic?

Warm, soft lips caressed my own. The way Axel kissed me made my lips tingle. He was so much gentler, so much more patient, not forcing his way into my mouth right away. He was not at all like Vexen, who was possessive and jealous, or the others. I tensed as I remembered. Axel kissing me made me remember it all; the rape the abuse… even though he was nothing like that, he still made me remember, and I started to cry again. Axel stopped as soon as he noticed.

"Roxas?" he asked looking down at me concerned and a little hurt as I cried harder.

I looked away. "If I said no," I began, trying to calm down a little, "would you rape me just like everyone else?"

"That son-of-a-bitch,"Axel muttered darkly as soon as I'd asked. I could tell that he was absolutely furious, cursing under his breath for a few minutes. He returned his attention to me after a moment, pulling me up into a tight embrace, which I fought until he said something. "I would never do anything like that to you Roxas," he murmured soothingly into my hair. I returned the embrace, sobbing into his chest as I had my second long cry for the day. I nearly missed what he said next, I was crying so hard.

"Why didn't you tell me, Roxas? I would have protected you."

Fallen: Although I guess our aunt not having us help with dinner might have been partially motivated by our recent trip to the ER. (Ruptured ovarian cyst. Not fun, but Airey was back at the ol’ mission the next day, no problem.)

Cade: It’s not like we even took any of the narcotic painkillers until today, just the NSAIDs.

Aziz: We then proceeded to pass the fuck out for like two hours.

Cade: I guess Tramadol’s the good shit after all.

Axel took me to the hospital that night, just to make sure I was okay. I had various tests run on me, to see if I'd caught anything or if the drugs had damaged me. Amazingly enough, the drugs hadn't affected me too badly. With continued non-use of them, the doctors said I should be just fine. Also, much to everyone's surprise, I hadn't caught anything from all that unprotected sex.

Aziz: Of course not, because that would introduce actual conflict into this story. Can’t have that.

So, I was relatively unscathed, except for some mental scarring and malnourishment. The doctors insisted on wrapping my wrists and arm so that they wouldn't get infected as well as keeping me at the hospital until I was stronger.

Fallen: Hope you have a good insurance plan, bucko! Seriously, what kind of hospital keeps someone for observation over “mental scarring and malnourishment”?

Cade: They’re not. It’s an involuntary psych hold, they’re just telling him it isn’t to keep him calm.

Axel waited close by the entire time for support, until he was informed that Saix, who Axel later told me was recovering nicely, was in this hospital as well and went to go see him. When he left, they wrapped my wrists and got me settled into a room, attaching an IV to my arm. I ended up falling asleep before Axel rejoined me.

Fallen: I’m sure Saïx will be happy to see the guy who shot the guy who stabbed him.

Aziz: Or whatever the hell happened in that McDonald’s.

The next morning, I woke up in the hospital, panicking slightly at the unfamiliarity before I remembered where I was. I seemed to panic a lot lately. I was relieved to see Axel close by. The red-head had fallen asleep, chair slid up next to my bed, and was bent over so that his upper half was resting on my bed while his lower half was in the chair. It looked extremely uncomfortable. Xaldin was also close by, looking equally uncomfortable, sleeping in another chair.

I reached over resting a hand lightly on Axel's head, thinking about what he'd asked me the other day about letting him in... He really was pretty and seemed nice… I just didn't know if I could ever love him.

Cade: *cups paws around mouth* YOU PRETTY MUCH JUST MET HIM

I didn't know if I could ever love anybody at all, or what love was even supposed to be like. The last person I'd ever even cared about had been my mother, but I wasn't even sure if what I'd felt for her had been love...

Fallen: Wait, what?

Cade: I want to think that the author is poorly phrasing Roxas not being able to articulate/conceptualize the difference between love for a parent and love for a romantic partner, but...

Aziz: But Roxas is a sociopath and obviously didn’t feel love for his mother, she was just someone who took beatings for him.

Cade: I didn’t want to say it.

I smiled at Axel, running a hand through his fiery spikes and watching him sleep. I wondered what would happen next… where I'd go, what I'd do… "Why didn't you tell me, Roxas? I would have protected you." That's what he'd said. Would he protect me still, even if I wouldn't accept his feelings? I mused.

Aziz: Buy a gun and protect yourself, ya weenie.

I must've subconsciously gripped his hair, thinking about it more, because he grimaced, muttering something groggily, before opening his eyes. "Roxas," said Axel, smiling at me when his eyes focused in on me as I let go, "how are you feeling?" He asked, sitting up, grimacing again as he stretched.

"Alright," I said softly, pausing for a long moment debating whether or not to give him an answer to his question yet... "Look, Axel, about dating you…" I began but stopped when he gripped my hand.

"It's okay, Roxas, you don't have to think about that, or answer now. You've been through so much already," he said squeezing my hand tightly.

Fallen: I’m glad Axel has at least some semblance of tact and sensitivity in this fic.

Cade: Yeah, but I’m sure it won’t last.

Fallen: No, seriously, he’s actually pretty decent at not pressuring Roxas into things... at least compared to some other fics...

I took a deep breath, leaning back against the pillows to make sure I kept from crying about the past again. Axel was being so kind to me… he was the first person to be nice to me in a long time.

"Hey Roxas?" Axel said, running his thumb along the top of my hand.

"Yeah?" I asked, eyes still closed.

"Xaldin told me about what happened to you, your dad, the abuse… Vexen," He started.

Aziz: Didn’t occur to you that he might want to tell Axel on his own terms, eh Xaldin?

I pulled my hand away quickly, making him look at me. He looked like he felt sorry for me, but it was quickly replaced by shock when he saw the look of anger on my face. I had opened my eyes and was glaring at him.

"Don't you dare pity me," I spat at him angrily

Aziz: #relateable

before looking away. I saw him smile out of the corner of my eye as I continued to sulk.

Aziz: Although if some asshole smirked at me after I say that I don’t want to be pitied, then I’d definitely be hopping out of that hospital bed to tear him a new asshole.

Fallen: But you have an IV in this context!

Aziz: I’d use the tubing to strangle them.

"Fair enough," He said quietly before going quiet for a long moment. "Will you stay with me after you're discharged from the hospital?" he asked, making me look at him wide-eyed. "I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to, if you'd rather live with someone else… or you can join my gang if you'd like…" he continued, looking like he was wondering if he'd said the wrong thing.

Join his gang huh?

Cade: *as Roxas* Revenge killings, turf wars, prostitution rings, buying and selling drugs... sounds like a nice, healthy environment for someone with my tragic backstory!

"Why would you want me to stay with you?" I asked, confused.

Aziz: *as Axel* That’s what it says in the script. Look, Roxas, I just work here.

Fallen: *also as Axel* Besides, I made a tidy profit off of cutting that last batch of Columbian flake with laundry soap, so it’s not like I don’t have an extra house if you’d like some space.

I wasn't quite sure what he could possibly hope to gain from helping me. Well… besides changing my mind about him for the better...

"I want to protect you," Axel stated, staring straight into my eyes as he grabbed my hand again. "And I don't want anyone to hurt you ever again."

Fallen: So keep him the heck away from gang life!! Geez!

I looked at him, this time I was the one who was shocked.

"What do you say?" Axel asked, patiently waiting for my answer.

I squeezed his hand looking at him gratefully. "…Okay," I replied nervously.

Cade: And so the recently-freed child sex slave agrees to move in with a man he knows almost nothing about besides 1. he runs a gang and 2. he’s attracted to him.

Fallen: Sounds totally plausible, right?!

Aziz: You forgot 3. he literally killed someone right in front of Roxas. In a McDonald’s.

I ended up staying at the hospital for three days. Axel didn't leave until I did, occasionally sneaking in candy from the vending machines for me and sharing it with me, much to the nurse's disapproval. I'm pretty sure it was because they didn't like the fact that I got candy while the other patients didn't, but I think that they were too afraid of Axel, knowing who he was, to stop him.

Aziz: Which... actually brings up another point... nothing ever happens to Axel for shooting someone in the face in a McDonald’s in the middle of the day. There’s not even any mention of him having to take steps to avoid the police. They simply don’t exist.

Cade: Don’t exist... or are in his pocket?!

Aziz: Exactly. It seems that for all intents and purposes Axel’s gang is the law around here.

Fallen: Geez, what is this, Brazil?

Aziz: So basically if it turned out that Roxas had, in fact, just walked right into another underaged sex slavery gig, he’d have no recourse whatsoever. Axel’s the most powerful guy around. No one’s gonna rescue him this time. There is no bigger fish.

Cade: Stop it, Aziz, you’re making this story seem actually interesting and we all know full well that is exactly the opposite of where this is going.

"Axel?" I asked on my second day in the hospital as he handed me some skittles.

"Yeah, Roxas?" he asked, eating one of each color at once.

"How old are you?" I asked.

"Twenty-three," he said leaning back. "Why?" he asked. I smiled at him.

Fallen: *as Roxas* I’m sixteen.

Aziz: *as Axel* Fuck.

"Just wondering," I said. A seven year difference, huh?

Cade: If I were him I’d be a bit more concerned about the fact that this is legally statutory rape and could get Axel in HUGE trouble (y’know, if law enforcement were an actual thing in this fic) than the precise number of years in the age gap.

Fallen: And so the sex offender shuffle gets a new verse.

youtube

He didn't look that much older than me…

Cade: That doesn’t make it okay.

Aziz: I mean, for goodness’ sake, there’s nothing wrong with writing ~problematic~ things like rape and grown-ass adults shacking up with sixteen-year-olds, but you could at least give your characters a modicum of sense about it.

Fallen: Yeah, find a way to get across to the readers that you, the author, know it’s fucked up. Because otherwise, we... kind of start to worry about you...

Cade: To be fair the author was probably sixteen or younger when they wrote this.

Fallen: That’s actually extra worrisome.

"Hey, Roxas," Axel said, interrupting my thoughts.

"Yeah?" I asked, looking at him again.

"You're not eating your candy," he said. I gaped at my hand. It was already becoming rainbow colored. I must've looked funny to Axel, who had a good laugh at my expense while I pouted at him a little.

His laugh was the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard,

Cade: Well, he is voiced by Quinton Flynn.

I thought, looking over at him, never wanting him to stop. I wanted to hear him laugh like that every day if possible; it was nothing like I'd expected it to be. Even more unexpected to me was Axel in general. I didn't think any gang member, much less leader, could be anything like Axel was.

Aziz: Oh, just wait until you hear about him immolating people later.

Fallen: Roxas really doesn’t care when he finds out, Aziz.

Aziz: *sigh* I know.

"What's wrong Roxas?" Axel asked playfully, smirking at me as I stared at him.

"I'm just not hungry right now," I said, handing him my skittles. I audibly protested when he promptly ate them.

He laughed at me again. "If you don't want me to eat your candy, don't give it to me," he said amusedly, laughing lightly when I pouted at him again. "I'm sorry, Roxas," he said, sitting next to me on my bed. "Can I make it up to you?" he asked.

"Yes, actually," I said, smiling up at him.

Cade: “I want you to find my father Lexaeus and bring me his head. Shoulders are entirely optional but I want him to still be warm.”

"Will you take me out for ice-cream later?"

"Of course," Axel said, "What's your favorite flavor?"

"I, uhh, I don't know, I don't remember trying it…"

Fallen: Then why ask about it specifically? Especially considering it hasn’t come up at all before.

I said, looking down so he couldn't see the look on my face as I absentmindedly wiped my hand on the sheets. Axel placed a hand on my chin, lifting it despite my efforts to stop him.

"Guess I'll have to get you some of each flavor then, won't I?" he asked, beaming at me when I smiled at him happily instead of looking depressed.

Fallen: Does the author remember that ice cream stores’ll give you tiny spoonfuls of flavors you want to try before you actually buy anything?

Aziz: No.

The first thing Axel did when I got out of the hospital was take me to an ice-cream parlor. I swear, the person taking our order looked at Axel like he was daft for ordering one of everything. I probably would've too.

Aziz: No, they don’t remember.

"You could've just taken me here another time to try something new," I said, laughing at him a little. Axel laughed as well.

"Yeah, I guess I could've," he said, resting his chin in his palm and smiling at me from across the table.

"Axel," I said, reaching across the table and grasping his free hand. The red-head looked more than surprised by the action.

"Roxas?" He questioned.

"I want to join your gang," I said, staring into his eyes.

Cade: “I want the power that comes with violence and black/red-market dealings.”

I'd been thinking about it ever since he'd mentioned it. Axel looked like he were about to protest, but I squeezed his hand, quickly adding, "Don't try to talk me out of it, besides, you already said I could."

"You're mind's made up?" he asked cautiously.

"Yes," I said determinedly.

Aziz: *as Axel* Well, okay. So I guess since you have experience with it, I’ll have you turning tricks for now. With time you can work your way up to negotiating the purchase of third-world refugees from human traffickers - don’t stress too much about it, I’ve been known to play favorites and guess who’s Daddy’s new favorite ho~

Fallen: Pfft, not starting him off as a mule? And what about the initiation?

Aziz: Reaching ‘Daddy’s favorite ho’ status is the initiation. Just comes easier for some.

He smiled at me, which surprised me a lot. "Alright then," he said, sitting back and letting the hand that I wasn't holding fall across his lap. "May I ask why?" he asked.

"I want to be part of something… I want to feel like I have a purpose for once in my life," I said,

Cade: ...and cooking crystal in a basement somewhere then cutting it with sugar constitutes that?

Fallen: No, no, silly, it’s black tar heroin you cut with sugar. Meth you cut with vitamins and MSM.

Cade: I’m starting to uncomfortable with how much you know about this.

Fallen: What? This is just common knowledge.

and I don't want to rely on you fully to feel safe… I want to protect myself.

"Are you sure you don't want to go to school or do something else instead?" Axel asked.

I laughed a little bitterly. "I never even started school," I said.

Aziz: All the more reason to start.

Fallen: I like how Axel brings it up but doesn’t push the subject at all once Roxas politely declines.

I knew that he was just making sure that I really wanted to do this, but I'd made up my mind already and didn't really want to be questioned about my decision.

"Okay, as long as you promise me that you'll stay out of trouble and dangerous situations," Axel said. Even now he was trying to protect me.

"I promise," I said.

Cade: Tune in next time for this fic being boring as sin and Roxas actually keeping that promise. For now.

Aziz: Joining a gang is the literal opposite of staying out of trouble and dangerous situations by definition, what the fuck?

Fallen: I don’t think the author has a very good grasp of what a gang is.

Cade: Where the heck’s my story arc about Roxas getting thrown into prison and having to duke it out with rival gang members in the exercise yard? ...actually, now that I say that I’m pretty sure I would not want to read that coming from this author.

Aziz: When does he get shitty tattoos?

Fallen: Yeah. Author really does not know what a gang is like.

Cade: Can this even be blamed on it being 2008? I don’t think gang education was exactly lacking back then, er...

Fallen: No, back in 2008 we’d been taught in public school more about gangs than what shows up in this fic. And mind, we’re from one of the cushiest areas in metropolitan Atlanta.

Aziz: To be fair, though, it is still Atlanta. Having at least a vague idea of how gang life works is pretty relevant, even in the suburbs.

Cade: Where the heck is the author from?

Aziz: Profile doesn’t say.

Fallen: Well, regardless... it wouldn’t kill them to do a little research on the subject they’re writing about. And I don’t mean the kind of ridiculous “I could probably author a thesis on this now” research we tend to do, literally just take 30 minutes to watch a documentary. Plenty of good ones out before 2008.

Cade: Research makes your fics sooooo much better, trust us, readers.

Aziz: Well, anyway... with that out of the way...

To be continued!

#fallen #aziz #cade #sporking

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