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sourwolf-sterek32 · 3 months

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The Dirt (Your Version)

Summary: Meeting Nikki Sixx and Tommy Lee was a coincidence. Being friends was a choice. But falling in love with them both was beyond your control.

A rewrite of The Dirt with all the highs and lows of Mötley Crüe from your perspective.

Pairings: Nikki Sixx x Reader, Tommy Lee x Reader, Nikki Sixx x Tommy Lee x Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Language, drugs & alcohol

Previous Chapter

Chapter 12- Unexpected News

Once the Theatre of Pain tour ended. Everyone went their separate ways.

Tommy had Heather. Mick had his new girlfriend. Vince had Sharise and Skylar. And you had them as well. But Nikki? You weren't sure who he had when he was home after the tour.

The bassist rarely answered your calls. And when he did answer it was always a guessing game as to how fucked up he was. Some days he was perfectly fine, and you'd talk together for hours. Other days, he was completely off his face and babbled nonsense through the phone until you hung up.

Nikki Sixx was going down a dark path and you had no idea how to help him. Not that he would accept your help if you tried.

It wasn't until a few months later that the band all met up again for Tommy and Heathers wedding.

It was the biggest wedding you had ever been to. There were over 500 guests and Tommy was so incredibly happy, and you were happy for him, despite feeling a little jealous. You couldn't have Tommy. You couldn't have Nikki either. But Tommy deserved to be happy even if it wasn't with you. And Heather made him happy.

The only problem on the wedding day was Nikki. The best man. He was as high as a fucking kite.

When you first arrived at the venue you could instantly tell that Nikki was strung out because he wasn't saying much. Nikki liked to talk. If he wasn't talking, it meant he was fucked up. And as the afternoon proceeded, it became apparent at how fucked up he actually was.

Vince and Mick were the groomsmen and Tommy had asked you to be the grooms-woman, if that was even a proper word. He wanted you to be up there with him and the guys and at first you were a little apprehensive about it. Heather probably wouldn't want her soon to be husband having a girl as a groomsman, especially considering the things you and Tommy used to get up to behind her back.

You should feel guilty about that.

Tommy cheated on her with you too many times to count, but you didn't feel bad about it which should probably be concerning. Any normal person would feel guilty, right? But you were just grateful for the time you got to spend with the drummer, even though it was only short lived.

The guys were wearing matching black suits, so you had gotten a tailored black suit to match them as well. You thought about wearing a black dress but figured a suit would be better to blend in with the other groomsmen.

"I think I'm ready." Heather announced.

You lowered your makeup brush and took one last look at yourself in the mirror. You didn't go overboard with the makeup, just light foundation, black eyeliner and mascara. The scars on your face had faded but were still very visible and made you feel self-conscious even after all this time, but you tried not to think about it.

"Want me to see if the guys are ready?" You asked, glancing over your shoulder to where she was standing across the room with her bridesmaids.

Heather looked beautiful. Her blonde hair was styled nicely, and the long white dress hugged her body outlining her curves perfectly.

Tommy was lucky to have her. It hurt to admit it, but it was true.

Heather smiled, "that would be great. Thanks, Y/N."

You left the room and made your way down the corridor to the room that the guys had claimed as their own when you first arrived earlier this morning.

Thankfully, they were all dressed and seemed to be sitting around on the couches waiting for the ceremony to start. Well, Mick and Vince were sitting. Nikki seemed to be passed out on the other couch and Tommy was fixing his tie in the mirror.

"Heather's ready." You announced, leaning against the doorframe. "Are you guys good to go?"

Tommy glanced over his shoulder at your voice and his face lit up with his usual bright smile as he took in your black suit before nodding.

"Nikki, let's hit it." Tommy announced, still fiddling with his tie as he glanced at Mick and Vince. "Are you guys ready?"

They both nodded but you were too busy staring at Nikki to notice. He had lost weight since the last time you saw him all those months ago. His face now thinner and paler than you remembered.

"Yo, best man. Let's go. I got a wife waiting. Come on!"

Nikki didn't respond though. He was totally passed out on the couch with his sunglasses covering his closed eyes.

You knew his addiction was getting bad. But you wouldn't have thought that he would shoot up during his best friend's wedding.

"You fucking kidding me?" Tommy muttered under his breath before he walked over and lifted the bassist's sunglasses slapping his face gently. "Hey, Nikki. Wake up, asshole!"

"What the fuck, dude?" Nikki groaned, blinking his eyes open.

"Jesus!" Tommy swore turning away and going back to fixing his tie.

"I'm good." Nikki mumbled pulling the sunglasses off his head as he groggily sat up. "It's all good."

"You're most definitely not all good, man. But, whatever, just clean- Hey!"

Nikki tripped over the glass coffee table in his effort to stand, sending the items crashing to the floor loudly as he struggled to his feet.

"Jesus, Sixx." You whispered under your breath watching him worriedly.

It had been a long time since you saw Nikki this fucked up. Not even on tour at the clubs and bars was he usually this bad.

Tommy leant over and grabbed the bassist by the collar of his shirt, "get your shit together. I don't want Heather to be embarrassed, okay?"

"I'm embarrassing? Cool." Nikki slurred taking a sip of his beer that you hadn't realised he grabbed.

"Drummer, come here." You pushed yourself away from the doorframe and walked over to Tommy and motioned to his tie that he was struggling with.

He nodded his thanks as you reached up and began to tie it carefully for him while he glared over his shoulder at the bassist who was now spilling beer while waving his bottle around.

"Let's go marry your fancy ass TV chick in this fancy ass hotel."

"Hey, are you gonna do this on the happiest day of my life, asshole?" Tommy snapped, turning away from you before you could finish as he faced Nikki.

"The happiest day of your life? The happiest day of your life was when I let you join my band."

"Sixx, shut the fuck up." You warned.

Tommy sighed, pulling his half-tied tie completely off in frustration before he turned to look at Mick and Vince.

"Shall I get someone else to stand up there with me or what?"

Vince shook his head, "don't look at me, man."

"I'll do it, Drummer." Mick declared standing up from his seat.

"I-I've already got the fucking rings. Let's just go." Nikki sighed.

Tommy stared at his best man for a moment before he turned and marched out the room without a word. You shared a quick look with your brother and Mick before following him out.

Standing up the front between Vince and Nikki during the ceremony wasn't too bad. The location was right by the beach and the fresh air seemed to be helping Nikki a little, but you had to grab hold of his arm during the vows to stop him from falling over.

He didn't comment on you practically holding him up but seemed to appreciate it though and to your relief, he didn't make any scenes or cause any issues during the ceremony.

After the ceremony, the real party started.

The guys were pretty drunk and having a wonderful time. Tommy had seemed to either forgiven Nikki for earlier or was simply now too drunk to care, either way, the two of them were laughing with their arms around each other's shoulders across the crowd.

Dinner was bought out later that night, some kind of slow cooked meat that usually would have smelt wonderful but only made you feel nauseous.

"Are you okay?" Heather asked, looking over at you as you stared at your plate of food trying not to throw up.

Food never had this kind of impact on you. And you hadn't drunk much either, so why did you feel sick?

"I-I..." You tried to say before you abruptly stood up and rushed off to the bathroom.

You barely made it to the toilet in time before throwing up the little food you had inside. Your stomach churned violently, and you spat into the toilet before flushing away the horrible stench and resting your face down against the cool porcelain lid breathing heavily.

Throwing up wasn't unusual for you. Migraines had that side effect, except, you didn't have a migraine.

"Y/N?" Heathers voice worriedly called out from the main door. "I bought you some water. Are you okay?"

"Yeah." You sighed, pushing yourself away from the toilet before leaning your back against the stall wall just as Heather poked her head around the corner with concerned eyes.

"Here. Have something to drink."

You grabbed the glass with shaky hands and took a small sip trying to wash away the horrible aftertaste.

"You know, my friend used to get sick whenever she smelt pork while she was pregnant." Heather suddenly said, and it took your foggy brain a moment to catch on before your eyes widened.

"What?"

She smiled, "it's okay. I won't tell anyone. How far along are you?"

"I-I... I'm not... I can't be... oh, fuck." You went through a million different emotions within the span of five seconds.

Your period was late. Your pants were getting too tight. That bad food poisoning that lasted for a couple of weeks... holy shit.

"You didn't know?" Heather asked gently a small frown on her face. "If you don't mind me asking, who's the father? I didn't think you were dating anyone."

And then your stomach dropped, and you felt like you were going to be sick all over again.

Nikki Sixx and Tommy Lee.

Oh, dear God.

You hadn't done anything with anyone else since... no. This couldn't be happening. This could not be happening.

Denial.

That had become your coping mechanism.

Complete and total denial.

That tactic worked, until another month passed, and your stomach was beginning to balloon out into a small bump that was getting harder and harder to hide.

You were yet to take an actual pregnancy test to confirm what Heather had suspected, but you didn't need to. It was pretty fucking clear what was happening despite how badly you wished it wasn't.

Vince was hosting another party at his beach front mansion. The thought of being around drunk idiots while not drinking yourself did not sound fun, but you knew Vince would be suspicious if you didn't show up. So, you pulled on a large jacket and went to your brother's house.

The party was loud and rowdy. It was filled with booze, drugs and too many people for your liking.

So that was how you ended up out on the beach behind his house to get away from all the noise while trying to figure out what the fuck you were going to do.

Tommy was off on his honeymoon with Heather. Nikki was at the party and injecting in the bathroom. And Vince was about five beers down while snorting lines off the table... there was no way in hell you could tell them about this.

You sat on the cool sand under the moonlight watching waves crash along the shore in front of you. Music from the party thumped in the background behind you, Too Fast for Love playing for the fourth time tonight because Vince was in control of the playlist.

"What's going on, kid?"

You glanced over your shoulder to find Mick walking down from the house to where you were sitting near the water. He had a bottle of vodka in his hand but didn't seem half as drunk as the rest of the people in that house.

"Just thinking." You sighed, looking back out at the ocean as stars shimmered brightly in the sky above it.

Mick didn't say anything else before he carefully eased himself down onto the sand beside you, wincing a little at the pain in his back, but he sat down despite it and joined in watching the ocean.

"I've got three kids." He suddenly said after a few minutes of silence and your heart stopped.

He knew.

How the fuck did Mick Mars figure it out?

"I've been around pregnant women before. I can tell." He continued to say as if he could sense your thoughts. "That and, you can usually drink me under the table with rum and you haven't touched it at all tonight."

You chuckled softly but remained silent not knowing what to say.

"Tommy or Nikki?"

And there it was. The golden question you had been asking yourself since the wedding.

"I honestly don't know." You admitted before shaking your head at yourself and wrapping your arms around your knees resting your chin on top. "You must think I'm a horrible person."

"No." Mick answered and he sounded truthful. "None of my kids were planned either."

You tilted your head towards him, "do you regret having them?"

It was a horrible question, but you remembered how the older man had been struggling all those years ago when Mötley Crüe first formed. He went from sleeping on park benches struggling to pay child support to... well, he wasn't on park benches anymore.

"At the time? Yeah. It wasn't my choice, and I was broke." Mick answered honestly. "But now? I can't imagine my life without them."

You nodded, biting your lip as you felt tears starting to rise in your eyes. You quickly looked away not wanting the older man to see you cry.

"I don't know what to do, Mick." You said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I never wanted kids. Tommy is married and Nikki... I don't know. I don't know what to do."

Suddenly, Mick wrapped his arm around your shoulders and gently pulled you into his side without a word and that was all it took before you broke down.

How were you meant to tell Tommy and Nikki? How the hell were you meant to tell Vince? How the fuck were you even meant to raise a child? Sure, you were good with Skylar, but that was different. You had no idea what you were doing, and you had no idea what you wanted to do either.

"It's gonna be okay, kid." Mick whispered, rubbing your back gently.

You leant against the older man and cried silently in his arms, but Mick never judged you for it. He kept whispering soothing words to you and allowed you to let out your emotions.

Nikki Sixx was banging on your front door before the sun was even up the following morning.

"Y/N! Open the door! We need to talk." He shouted from outside. "I know you're home. Answer the door."

You sighed, rolling over in bed hoping if you ignored him for long enough, he would simply leave.

You were not in the mood to deal with Nikki's intoxicated state because if he was awake this early that meant he hadn't gone to bed since the party which meant he was either drunk or high or both. Probably both. When you were leaving last night, Nikki was so fucked up. Hell, he could barely walk straight.

"Y/N! Come on!" He continued to shout, knocking loudly against the front door.

Fucking hell.

You sighed before kicking your blankets off and sitting up as a rush of nausea hit you like a truck. Morning sickness was a real bitch.

After throwing up the little contents in your stomach and brushing your teeth to get rid of the horrible taste in your mouth, you were surprised to hear Nikki still knocking on your front door. He was determined, you'd give him credit for that.

Pulling on your dressing gown covering your pyjamas and small baby bump, you made your way across the house and pulled open the front door.

Nikki was pacing along the porch looking stressed out of his mind but also extremely high. That shouldn't have been a surprise considering how much he was snorting last night on top of whatever he had injected in the bathroom.

"Do you know how early it is?" You sighed, rubbing your face with your hands.

Nikki spun around not having heard the door open, and he was marching straight past you into the house without saying a single word.

Okay. That was weird.

You watched him walk to the main room of your house before you closed the front door and joined him, but Nikki was still pacing along the back of the couch, not looking at you.

"What's going on, Sixx?" You asked hesitantly.

Something was definitely wrong.

The bassist eventually stopped pacing and turned to face you properly. He looked wrecked and you knew it wasn't just because of the drugs.

"I had an interesting talk with Mick last night after you left."

Oh. Oh.

Fuck.

"Nikki-"

"Were you ever going to tell me?" He asked, and his voice sounded so broken you wanted to cry.

"I-I don't even know myself. I haven't taken a test." You admitted, despite not needing a test to confirm it.

Nikki nodded, rubbing his face with his hands as he took in a deep shaky breath and returned to pacing the length of your living room. He was freaking out. That was valid, but you had no idea how to calm him down because you were still trying to process it too.

"How-how long have you known?" He eventually asked while still pacing with his arms folded across his chest.

"A month."

"A whole fucking month?!" He whirled around, his eyes wide in sudden burning anger that had you flinching back on instinct. "You've known for a month, and you never thought to fucking tell me?"

You raised your hands to try and calm him but before you could say anything he was already shouting.

"You didn't think it was important enough for me to know? I mean, fuck, Y/N. Does Tommy know? Do you even know who's fucking baby it is? Are you going to keep it, or terminate it? Are you-"

"Sixx, stop! I don't know. I... I... fuck. I don't fucking know!" You shouted back at him matching his anger because if you didn't get angry then you were going to start crying. And you did not want to start crying in front of him.

"Jesus Christ!" He swore throwing his arms in the air in frustration. "What do you fucking know then?"

"I know that you are fucked up right now. So, get out." You ordered pointing at the front door.

"No. We need to talk about this!"

"We can talk once you're sober." You sighed, all the anger deflating out of you as you walked over and opened the door for him. "Go home, Sixx. Get some sleep and come back when you're not high or drunk, okay?"

Nikki hesitated, his dull eyes shifting between you and the door before he reluctantly nodded and left the house without saying or shouting anything further. You had expected him to fight and argue more but were relieved that he didn't.

You were not in the right state of mind for this argument.

Nikki had questions, but right now, you couldn't give him any answers even if you wanted to.

Next Chapter

MASTERLIST pinned to profile

If anyone wants to be tagged just let me know

A/N: before you all come at me for this pregnancy jump scare, just wait for the next chapter.

This is NOT a pregnancy/baby fic (not that there is anything wrong with those fics) but I know a lot of people hate that trope and I don't want to spoil anything but just trust me and wait for the next chapter.

#motley crue #nikki sixx #nikki sixx fanfiction #nikki sixx x reader #nikki sixx x you #tommy lee #tommy lee fanfic #tommy lee x reader #vince neil #mick mars #motley crue fanfiction #motley crue x reader #pov #the dirt #imagine

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julietwiskey1 · 5 months

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If ATLA had a fourth season, what do you think would have been the plotline of Book 4 and what would likely have been the good and bad parts of it?

If we keep the original three then I think it would have gone into Book Four: Air. Likely seeing Aang work to restore the Air Nation and searching for traces of any survivors. Perhaps he sees that culturally they are dead but their are still people who can bend air. Now Aang’s role in the previous three seasons is flipped upside down, he is no longer the student but the master.

We also probably see Zuko, Azula and the gaang search for Ursa. It would serve primarily as Azula’s redemption and growth arc. Let her heal and find love with Zuko and Ursa, maybe even forgiveness by the gaang. Zuko’s story focusing more on his growth as a leader and facing the problems that beset his people that it’s his job to fix. Not just punching the lone corrupt official but making actual changes to his government.

I think to keep it on theme we would see Sokka and Katara try to find parts of their culture stolen. Perhaps even look for water benders like Hama who still know the southern tradition. Though I see this being the most likely to be cut.

The best part of the season would be its emotional beats. Focusing on healing, coming together and love. It would nail down the hope Aang always inspires. Show him and Zuko leading everyone into that new world of peace and harmony they promise.

I think something like this would struggle to keep everyone together. All of these character naturally want to do their own thing now. So why Zuko and Azula need to search with the gaang would be in question. Why aren’t Katara and Sokka going home to heal their tribe? Shouldn’t Aang be heading off on his own now?

That’s what I think is most likely.

Though I personally think if the show knew they would have a fourth season it would have been better to split season three into two. Season one takes place up until the day of black sun. Have it take place in the colonies. Focus more on Ozai and his role leading the war and the struggles Zuko and Azula face at home. Show him as a villain by showing how two of our previous villains who love him still fear him. The gaang runs into a lot more stories like the headband and Hama. Show the oppression of the colonies and how the Fire Nation exploits the land.

Then with the season four show Zuko earning his way with the gaang as they hide in the Fire Nation Islands (not colonies but Fire Nation proper). Show him slowly earning their trust. But most importantly let him interact with the Fire Nation and learning what has to change about his nation. But I think he needs to also serve as a supporting character in several episodes. Where he’s not the focus, but rather holds up or steps out of the spot light for Katara, Sokka, Toph and Aang to shine.

Aang could also be discovering energy bending or another Ozai solution. Make the reveal of energy bending at the end feel like an earned discovery and not a deus ex machina.

During this fourth season Azula, Mai, and Ty Lee take the secondary story plots. Show the fracture of the friend group. How Azula is struggling under Ozai expectations and how it forces her to act contrary to a teenager with her friends. Give her breakdown time to fester and grow. But also show a girl who is deserving of redemption. Who quite simply currently does not feel or does not see any way out or can fully see what is wrong. Her side story can pair with Zuko’s. When Zuko finds a problem and fixes it give it to Azula and show how constrained she is.

And most importantly show Ozai being the villain beyond Azula and Zuko. Let him personally hurt and burn people. Maybe even give an episode where the gaang nearly runs into him and show how he can take them. Make him a terrifying enemy before the final fight.

#Wiskey answers #anon #atla #avatar the last airbender #hypothetical season four #zuko #Azula #Aang #Sokka #Katara #never really mentioned toph did I #probably can have a few episodes showing her maturing #maybe develop her anti war ideology

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damianbugs · 1 year

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please share your dick and bruce fic recs, both sad and fun stuff

–someone who thinks about them a normal amount

OHHH my friend my dearest friend i will totally share the best most crazy brainworm inducing bruce and dick fics i have ever read. i wish i was exaggerating when i say this dynamic changed me as a person, but it is the truth i fear. THE troubled father and son blueprint.

DICK AND BRUCE FIC RECS ON AO3

a pointless resistance by emavee

It starts with a news report running in the background of a greasy little diner, but it ends with Dick dead. Except, it doesn't stop there. It keeps on ending, over and over. Bruce's son keeps dying, and nothing he does seems to make any sort of difference.

MY NOTES: whenever i stumble upon an emotionally repressed individual i imagine a little cartoon person in my head shouting SEND HIM TO THE TIME LOOP because it truly does fix all problems. wonderful bruce and dick writing and the dialogue was so real to me i have tears in my eyes just thinking about it. it is also set during the robin jason era!

Making Time by CaptainOzone

Bruce does not remember anything leading up to this moment. He does not remember teaming up with Superman recently, nor does he remember being anywhere but Gotham proper. He does remember having Robin at his side. Robin, it turns out, is not there any longer. God does he hate magic.

MY NOTES: you'll notice a common theme with these recs and that is bruce needs to be having a horrible time and then is forced to confront his emotions and express them accordingly to dick. there is something very bittersweet about this yet it was handled so wonderfully. again, tears in my eyes.

Catch and Release by snackbaskets

There's a tradition among the family: when in danger, you grab the smallest Robin and hang on tight. But like all traditions, this one had to start somewhere, right? Alternately: three times Dick bodily attacks his father (with love)

MY NOTES: ohhh i think about the last part of this fic like all the time. something so sweet and precious about it to me. such a fun and comforting read.

Afraid of the Dark by WrongLeverKronk

The wind whispered outside his window and the dim moon failed to provide comfort. He was embarrassed. Richard Grayson sat on his bed, above the covers, with his arms wrapped firmly around his knees that were tucked against his chest. He thought everything would be fine when he parted from his friends for the evening, that his confidence would follow him in solitary. He regretted parting as soon as he turned out the lights in his bedroom and became enclosed by the eerie atmosphere. (Or: the aftermath of the episode in which Robin hallucinates Slade. He calls Batman)

MY NOTES: can u hear the sounds of me screaming crying sobbing. one of my first ever dick and bruce fics. fun fact i have never watched teen titans but watched this episode specifically just for fun and then read this and now it is seared permanently into my mind forever. anyways read this.

in the dark of the night by fanfictiongreenirises

“I already have a dad, y’know? So you don’t have to be my new dad. I don’t really want you to be my dad, anyway. We can be friends. Partners.” Bruce seems to sigh in relief, having stiffened up halfway through Dick’s speech. “Friends and partners, then.” And they were in agreement. Bruce and Dick and a series of steps and leaps and jumps.

MY NOTES: sometimes im okay and then i remember how many times dc COULD have made bruce adopt dick and DIDNT because they SUCK and so this fic is here to warm the hearts of all those who need it. so lovely.

After the Wake by nighhtwing (divineauthor)

Fathers should not bury their children. —•— When Jason dies, Dick comes home, and Bruce muses on being a parent.

MY NOTES: a shorter one, but man does it pack a real punch to the heart. i find bruce and dicks dynamic immediately after jasons death the most fascinating and this was a wonderful spin on it!

You Are My Reflection (As I Am Yours) by Fairy527

A rope snaps. A collective scream echoes in the tent. (A threatening low voice. A sinister metallic click.) The Flying Graysons fall, and Bruce is sent back to that fateful night in Crime Alley

MY NOTES: clutches my heart screaming OHH. OH THE PARALLELS. there is just something so personal about the night the graysons fell and the night the waynes died being referenced with one another AND THIS GOT IT SOOO WELL. tears. tears forever.

i can't promise (it's not written in the stars) by konan_konan

Batman is following him, surely, but he’s smaller and faster and he’s not going to let someone take him and lock him up again. Wayne Manor, he’s learned, is just another kind of prison. It may be big and fancy but it is also empty and cold and he’s not going back. Tony Zucco dies tonight, he tells himself. It is the only thing that matters. or: dick loses two soulmates, and gains three.

MY NOTES: oh this fic. i need a moment. soulmate aus can be a real hit or miss sometimes but the way it was portrayed in this literally surpasses all expectation it was just SO GOOD. the dick introspection is honestly one of my favourites like. ever.

In This or Any Other Universe by wildsofmarch

There was a new vigilante in his city: a man who smiled too much and talked too loud and knew his way around a fight a little too well. Bruce wasn't bothered by his antics. Except the man also seemed to know a little too much about him. Who was this Nightwing, anyway? ------ OR: Dick Grayson (DCU) accidentally lands himself in Battinson’s Gotham.

MY NOTES: here it is. my favourite bruce and dick fic of all time forever and ever. im so serious. the tears are not in my eyes because they are streaming down my face. the idea of battinson with a robin was lovely and now that this gives us battinson with NIGHTWING i am just inconsolable. MUST READ.

#dick grayson #bruce wayne #batfamily fic recs #saki batfam fic recs #batfam

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coffee-writesthings · 2 months

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I may or may not have been feeling inspired-- might try to expand it into a proper fic later but this is more of a refined-ish idea dump. A fic of a fic (Taking Running Blind by @thetriggeredhappy and having a similar plot with different main characters. Congrats, your peer pressure worked! :))

Summary: Spy is blinded, and after an earnest attempt to hide it, Engineer and Sniper notice (not crossteam btw, tho that would be another cool angle). They try to help him as best they can. (It's those 3 being shipped together, since I have trio relationships on my mind lately cus i read this rly good book with one in it it's called Iron Widow you should go read it rn)

At the moment it's more like an organized-ish infodump that I might turn into a proper fic at some point

Okay so Spy going blind, I think he would still be able to see light but nothing else. It'd happen because of some sort of injury that Respawn couldn't cover for some reason and that leads to Medic and Engineer getting anxious as all hell about Respawn. Medic would make Engineer take breaks, and it's during these breaks that he is trying to help Spy deal with day-to-day stuff.

I think the first to notice would've been Sniper, honestly. Looking through a scope it's not hard to assume that his sorta-friend is struggling with backstabs for a reason he can't place. What's going on with the Spook?

It gets even more obvious when Spy's knife lands, not into someone's spine, but their shoulder. it still does damage, but it's not a backstab. he's killed immediately by Pyro who was nearby and he's still blind. He thought maybe respawn would fix it but no nothing was fixed. Fuck.

Since he can only perceive light, he has to hide out for the rest of the match, using his Cloak and Dagger to remain alive and make an excuse as to why he wasn't seen on the field. I think he would hide out with Sniper, trying his damndest to not give the game away.

It's in this next half-hour that he starts getting used to how loud everything else is, without the visual clutter to distract him. For some reason he hears the other team's Heavy nearby, and it tips him off that that's actually the other Spy, using a new tactic.

The knife sinks into Sniper's back easily, but he never expected the second spy (our pov spy) to pin him down and start stabbing wildly, finishing him off with a carefully aimed gunshot before returning to the shadows.

Once the match is over, he makes his way back to the base, using the light and large colored arrows he can process as a guide. All of this is under the guise of his cloak, so nobody notices.

Or, at least that was the plan. He manages to fall into the Engineer, knocking both of them over.

"Spy what the hell are you trying to pull?"

"That's not your business." is the lousy attempt at a coverup he gives. If he knew the only way he could tell who he was talking to was by the sound of his voice... that would be bad for him.

"Then get off me, will ya?"

He does so without making eye contact, he couldn't imagine what his eyes looked like at the moment but it couldn't be good (they probs look normal, if the research i've done is correct)

There isn't another battle for two weeks, so during that time he rests up and figures out some very basic echolocation so he can make his way around the base. it's better, in his mind, to look competent than it is to be hidden. So long as nobody can tell he has a problem, that's fine by him.

~~~

Engineer and Sniper get to talking, and find they both think something's up.

"You think his sight's gotten worse?"

"I can only tell ya what I saw mate, and I saw him swinging blindly. You've seen how his stabs usually are, they're point-perfect on that specific spot on everybody's spines! Just doesn't make any sense."

"He did trip over me... Kinda thought it was some short joke but, now that'cha bring it up, it's kinda suspicious."

"He'd never want us to notice."

Engie snorts, "Yeah, I'm pretty sure he'd rather die than admit he needs help."

"What do we do then?"

"We help him, whether he admits he needs it or not."

~~~

The first way they try to help him is subtle, reaaaaal subtle. Sniper asks to take him on a walk, holds his hand and tries to talk to him about that day's battle-- he's a bit blunt but he's got the spirit. Spy complains some, but doesn't really say anything substantial. He's actually surprisingly good at not getting off-track (i've been doing things with my eyes closed as an experiment and your steps can legit get wobbly), using sniper's voice as an anchor of sorts

~~~

Engineer takes the next attempt at getting him to open up, just sort of chilling together though. It's a normal thing they do every couple of weeks to de-stress after battles. Today he thought that it would be nice to watch a tv show together, and it's some history thing idk. He describes some of the images to him, which makes Spy feel a mix of thankful and scared about-- Did he notice something? And he confronts Engie on it, asking what's going on?

"It's been both you and Sniper, what do you think happened?"

"There's no think to it. He pointed it out to me-- you botched a buncha backstabs and it looked like somethin' happened.

"This stays between the two of you and me..." he proceeds to explain what he knows about what happened. He does admit that he is, in fact, blind. He explains that he can perceive changes in light but nothing else. "It's... something like closing your eyes, permanently."

Engie is conflicted, having very little of an idea how to care for someone having vision in a state like that. He's especially not sure what to do in terms of telling Medic for instance (since respawn didn't fix it like expected)

~~~

Still though, he tells Sniper about it after staying up all night doing research on like a million specifics about vision loss (causes, treatment, what to do if it can't be fixed, etc etc)

"Huh, so what can we do right now?"

"He's gonna be real concerned about visibility, so honestly our best bet might be teaching him echolocation."

"You're kidding me!" he lets out a wheeze of a laugh, "Spy, echolocating? Yeah right. By the way when was the last time you slept?"

Engineer responds, "uh, yesterday."

Sniper proceeds to herd him into bed like a border collie, doing everything up to and including a brief attempt to pick him up over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes. Engineer blushes, maybe makes some joke about being a princess

~~~

So anyway they teach Spy how to echolocate (Sniper does, specifically, since he just forced Engineer to get some sleep).

Spy: 'this is a joke, right?"

Sniper: "do you want to do this without help or not? I don't see you being willing to get a white cane" (note: it's super good actually for figuring out ur surroundings and materials, i didn't think it would be as good as it looks but the way it works sounds really damn useful)

Over the next hour or so they do echolocation together, starting with simpler sets of noises (snapping, clicking of tongue, things like that) and then just walking and talking around the base. After a little bit, Spy is able to get a general idea (hehe i misstyped that at first to be gender. Spy is certainly able to get a gender alright) a general idea of the layout of the base. He can't really figure out the rooms without touch and counting the individual doors, and stairs are his worst enemy, but he can do the base mostly.

~~~

The next day is a CTF battle (completely spontaneous for some unknown reason) and Spy hangs out with the intel with Engineer (yknow what fuck it i'm being fancy this isn't 2fort it's Landfall, the foresty one), hoping that the administrator will just think he's having a bad day. They chat while Engie builds and tinkers, about all manner of things. Probably more about what Engie found and remembered in his research.

~~~

Anyway I've been sitting on this a few days, felt like sharing a collection of vibes which may someday be expanded. Btw writing this actually inspired me to take a different direction in an original work lol, I might try to share some of that in the future when I have proper snippets to share

#tf2 fanfiction #running blind remix #sniperengiespy #sniperspy #engiespy #engiesniper #sniper x engineer x spy

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decepti-thots · 6 months

Text

since almost none of the LL arcs made it through to the second round i don't think it's unfair to point out here what i said to lily while round one was going on: the main thing that doing the writeups in the bracket that stood out to me was. it was really hard to do proper summaries of the LL arcs the way i did for most of he MTMTE arcs?

i told them that the one that really made me go 'ah okay' was how. ok, so it was genuinely coincidental that elegant chaos and dissolution were matched up in round one as the two 'functionist arcs', i did not do that on purpose, i was trying to do a thing where round one was not gonna have any hard matchups based on my qualitative knowledge of what is and isn't beloved in the fandom, so the good shit was saved for later rounds, and it shook out that way. but like. i could summarise what elegant chaos was 'about' in a way that would jog the memory very quickly for anyone who hadn't read the comic in a hot second, because i didn't need to lean on the plot but the core theme. 'it's the time travel arc with a trolley problem for our characters at its core', boom, done. and i couldn't do that for dissolution! it is seven issues long, and i can tell you the 'plot', but i couldn't easily tell you... what that arc is. about. there is a division between its ostensible themes and the events that happen. same with the nautica-memory-loss arc. same with crucible! the LL arcs, i consistently struggled to briefly summarise not plot events but... what is it 'about'.

and i think that's why LL #25 made it through where other lost light stories didn't; i have my issues with it, but as with the best MTMTE arcs, i know what it's about. LL struggles to regain the narrative coherency most of MTMTE had where 'theme' and 'plot points' are mostly in sync, and a lot of that is as much to do with the simple fact that demanding a comic relaunch itself to have a #1 is a fucking stupid thing to do, tbh. even as i am more critical of later MTMTE arcs at times, the fact is that the loss of momentum caused by that editorial decision is not something you can just write yourself out of and editorial decisions deserve a chunk of the blame. comics industry, get your shit together. but i do think that LL #25, in being this epilogue that insists upon being its own thing, works to try and recover some of that thematic drive. similarly, i think the mederi arc is the closest LL comes to regaining that synergy between theme and 'plot', and lo, it came the closest as major arcs go to putting up a fight. anyway the moral of the story is that constant enforced relaunches are VERY DUMB. not that i think not having it would have magically fixed EVERY problem, but. seriously. oh my god. bane of the industry.

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zazzander · 1 year

Note

Did you enjoy tsats? I've seen you posting and rebloggin some critics, but was the book enjoyable?

So I haven't actually finished the book yet but at this point... I'm not sure that I will. But I have a lot of thoughts anyway. And I've been reblogging the posts that match up with my own reading experience (mostly because it's becoming clear the book continues to follow this pattern I've already noticed, so I'm not concerned about spoilers anymore).

The thing is, I went into the book with low expectations. I'm not a big fan of Will Solace - though I like the Apollo cabin in general. I was really hoping to pick up the book be shown why I should like Will. Instead, I got a character assassination. Will is flawed, and I appreciate those flaws, but not in the way Oshiro (and it was clearly Oshiro at this point) protrayed them.

I was actually prepared for the mismatched lore and some minor retcons - because every Riordan book includes those! Plus, I'm not opposed to a character-based narrative, in fact, I generally prefer stories with a lot of angst and drama. I also wasn't bothered by the lovey-dovey way Will and Nico interact, I found it sweet.

Unforunately, the book, on a technical level, is poorly written. For one, the central metaphor of the story "darkness vs light" is not done well. It lacks concrete examples.

Is it about their powers? It shouldn't be - that dynamic is more about "death vs life" than anything else. If that is the case - it's odd that Will reacting to "death energy" now. Other characters found Nico's "death energu" creepy, Will found it cool. So the entire conflict wouldn't be in character, that's what the metaphor is angling towards (again, it seems purposefully misleading to rebrand "death vs life" to "darkness vs light").

Is it about their personalities? It could be. Nico often describes Will as unfailing kind in this book, always smiling, always warm. It harkens back to Nico's description of Will as a chill cat bathing in the sunlight. Now, we all know that Will isn't like this, at his heart. The flaws beneath that persona could be his "darkness". However, Nico seems to hate that part of Will. The part that's arrogant, that sees his way of doing things as best, etc. Furthermore, Nico is apparently "all darkness" to Will, but like... what does that mean? Nico is a bleeding heart, he's giving and he's caring, and does Will not realise that? Like, if that's the case, why are they dating? How have they been dating for an entire year and Will doesn't know that? It's just... not good.

But that's not where the problems end. The pacing is slow, the entire book drags. I feel like the characters the couple run into don't push the drama / angst as far as it should, considering this is a book focused on that. There are many more characters who could show where Nico and Will's worldviews fundamentally misalign!

Finally, this is an example of a wider plot / set-up issue: Will's backpack. At the start of the adventure, Will fills a large backpack with "stuff". The only real item we're told about is a Sun Lamp. That's an issue, because if we don't know what's in the backpack there's less chance that Will will actually use the stuff inside. And if he does use any items, it will feel contrived. Furthermore, by this point in the book, Oshiro seems to have forgotten that Will is lugging a heavy bag around. When Will gets tired he doesn't mention it nor Nico does offer to carry the bag.

We know that Will has never been on a proper quest, but he has fought in three wars at this point. He is a veteran! I think the backpack would have been an excellent opporunity to show Will's character and experience. Maybe he knows that he tends to freak out in battle when he doesn't know what he should be doing (if someone's injured then, well, it's obvious his job to fix them) - so he's overcompensating.

Have Will pick up items from various campers as he prepares to go. Maybe he gets grenades from Clarisse, traps from Cecil, a magical flare gun from Lou Ellen. There - now we know what Will is taking to the underworld. We are also reminded of Will's friends at camp. And these items would help make Will more useful! Instead of giving Will random new powers, just... have him use the items he brought with him!

I have no idea if Will does, in fact, pull something out of his bag at some point. But at this point, I'm really doubtful.

((I actually have so many more issues with this book but these are some examples))

I hope you don't mind the rant! I really did go into this book with an open mind - I was really to give it a chance. But pretty much every writing choice Oshiro made is one I disagree with, and that's hard to put aside.

#tsats spoilers #tsats critical #anti tsats

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lahotelbellamuerte · 1 year

Text

𝐎𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮 - ii. american [ アメリカ人]

— ❀ series masterlist ❀ — please [お願いします] — ❀

pairing; han seoul-oh x amara!oc warning; language, minor character death, fluff, plot tbh word count; 9.4k notes; first real chapter of this book lol.

THE WAILS OF A CHILD RANG IN THE EMPTY ROOM. A woman smiled with tears in her eyes at the sound. Holding the new born in her arms, a miracle born out of mistakes and wrongs. A beautiful baby girl was born. Light brown eyes darting everywhere as it cried for warmth. The older woman handed the child over to her husband.

Ryder O'Connor held his little girl in his arms. Tears in his eyes as he held the small child, it was unbelievable that she was his. After many mistakes in his life, he wanted to be the best father he could for her. The man wanted to teach her everything he knew about life.

His eyes drifted to the woman who had given him a child, but she just had a small smile on her face. Her eyes open and closed as she looked at the two. That was until her eyes closed completely, never to open again. Her chest stopping its rise and fall.

Ryder's eyes widened, rushing he wrapped his daughter in a blanket and put her down carefully. Then rushed to the unconscious woman. He shook her shoulders, calling to her to wake up. But the woman never did open her eyes. The man pulled her lifeless body into a hug and kissed her forehead in tears.

"I promise I'll take care of her, I promise," he mumbled into her head.

While in most stories, we’ve all heard of father’s who abandoned their children due to the loss of the love of their life. Let me tell you, it’s never a good idea to do that. Now, Ryder wasn’t perfect himself either, he’s made his own mistakes, and now older. Too ashamed to go back and fix them.

So with this new born daughter, he pledged to himself that he would be there for her. Promised his deceased wife he would care for her.

To this date, he regrets leaving Brian behind, in California with his ex-wife. In that time he was afraid of the new responsibilities. Rather than face them, he decided to run from those problems.

In short notice the man was able to give his wife a proper goodbye. Taking his daughter and his wife’s ashes to the Golden Gate Bridge.

A place his wife actually enjoyed going to. He didn’t know why, it was just a bridge that was orange. But in respects of her happy place, he dumped part of the ashes over.

Amara the little baby in his arms smiled and giggled as the wind brushed her face. She was the best thing to happen already.

In a rented hotel the two lay on the large empty bed. Little Amara yawned in her drowsy state, wiggling around in her pink onesie.

Ryder leaned over to her face, fingers brushing over her rosy cheeks, “Sleepy, hun?” He cooed, wiggling his finger over her face.

The baby just looked up at him with her wide eyes, blinking slowly at the sight of her father. Until they finally closed shut, and her breathing slowed.

Seeing her asleep he sighed and sat back on the bed, brining out his laptop. He opened it and began typing away. Every few minutes looking over to check on Amara. Every time smiling to himself at the sight of his own creation.

A few hours into surfing the internet, he knew that California wouldn’t have what he wanted. He need somewhere new, somewhere where his past wouldn’t haunt him. The man always dreamed of going overseas, but never had the guts to pick up his life and do it.

Now with his wife gone, and Amara in his care. He could start anew just like her. Learn to live somewhere different, and so that is exactly what he did.

"We'll have a better life now, Amara, away from all the craziness here," he told her but the words seemed to reassure him more than anything else.

But life works in funny ways, you can never truly run from who you are. It will follow and find you eventually.

“Amara!” Yelled the voice of Ryder somewhere downstairs.

Eight-year-old Amara secured pink clips into her blonde hair. Looking down and making sure that her uniform was ready. Grabbing her randoseru she made her way downstairs to greet her father.

She gave a him a wide smile, “Mornin’ pops!” She greeted sitting at the dining table where her breakfast sat.

As always a stack on pancakes towered her plate. Carefully she poured her syrup over the stack, wanting the most out of the sugary food.

Ryder was American at heart, he wanted her to experience everything he did when he was younger. And if by making these foods would help that, she was in no way complaining.

He was lucky to have a child like Amara—she ate everything. Well, except onion, for some odd reason the girl detested the vegetable. Has thrown up in a couple of occasions when trying to eat the food. Odd.

The two ate in silence, enjoying each other’s company. Until she looked over at the clock and shoved a little more food in her mouth, “Atode Poppusu!” She then yelled grabbing her bag and running out to catch train.

The American man just sighed and picked up her plate, and placing it in the sink. Everyday that she left for school, he just hoped she returned safely to him. Not completely accustomed to the younger kids going off on their own for school.

Can you blame him? It was his only child to care for, he had no one else. But other than the fear, he was proud of his little girl. Just like his wife, she was smart. It was bad, but he loved hearing all the teachers tell him how gifted she was. It was something he liked boasting about his little old golden girl.

Every other day coming back with some sort of report all given top marks. Each time handed to him like it was nothing, like it was regular homework to her.

Although not many of the kids liked that some foreigner was as good as them. If not better. Ryder never knew that she was teased at some points of her school life. But she never let get to her. Especially when her new friend Neela came to school. He hated when they were singled out all because they weren’t born in Japan.

With Neela around this where her troubles began, seeking out all the fights with their bullies, “Call me or Neela that one more time, and you’ll be getting more than just my fist,” the small girl hissed towers her classmates.

The boys who had caused her trouble in the first place all nodded their heads. Frightened the girl wasn’t kidding and would come after them. Her father on the other hand wasn’t too keen on coming to school over and over for fights she had started.

So, in hopes of getting her fighting under control, he signed her up for self defense classes. The small girl excited to learn more about fighting, and how to do it even better.

Where all the troubles really began.

And once more the echo of her name rang out the halls of a High School, ”Amara!" yelled out a voice from behind her.

The blonde didn't turn around, but rather thanked the lunch lady who handed her tray of food. Picking up her tray she turned around to see the familiar face of her friend, Neela.

"Yes, Neela?" she asked her friend walking towards her seat. Her eyes trailing around to find an empty seat.

The dark-haired girl smiled, "I heard a new kid is coming this week, some saw a white man come in," she let her blonde friend know, a little excited to see how things would come to be.

Amara rolled her eyes, “As much as I love people, oh darling, I don’t really care all that much,” she replied with a shrug, smiling when spotting an empty table. And the truth it was, the blonde’s life revolved pretty much around her inner circle. One was Neela, her small circle of friends, and not to forget her father.

The smaller girl only shook her head and joined her friend at the table, “You know if you tried to talk to others, you would have a lot more friends.”

Amara gave her a mocking smile, picking up her chop sticks and shoving food in her mouth, “I don’t need more friends, I need adventure,” the girl mumbled through her mouth full of food.

“And stop talking with your mouth full,” the brunette cringed watching as Amara smiled with food still in her mouth.

After their little short rant on a new coming foreigner, the two idly chatted about their school life. As most students do, but not without the lingering looks from the rest of the student body. It was always the same, it never really mattered how long they were there for. Then eventually waving one another a short bye, before heading to their individual classes.

For a long time, Amara was known as the top student, she was smart without really trying. But for a while, she got bored of all it. The learning challenges she craved for no longer grabbed her attention. So, she ditched all of it for some time, skipping classes, not doing her homework, or even sleeping during lectures. Her life during that period of her life, was an adrenaline rush, and school wasn’t cutting it.

And all for the chase of the thrill, karma made her way back to bite her. Her father was notified of her situation, and was forced to attend school. Now, she was the oldest girl in the class, because of how much she had fallen behind.

Ryder had given her a long talk about finishing school. Not all the kids get a chance to learn and have the resources that she had. So the girl was given the ultimatum of finishing school or having to fend and live for herself.

As the bell rang, she shoved everything in her bag, waving her professor goodbye, putting on her shoes. To practically run to the trains, hoping to make it on time. Wanting nothing but getting home and sleep all day.

Arriving at the train station, she smiled. It seemed that luck was on her side, shoving her way into the train, she made sure to stay near the wall. Thankfully it wasn’t a far ride back to her stop. As her stop was announced she excused herself moving through the sea of squished people. Then quickly walked her way back home, hoping to just sleep.

As she reached her little quaint home, she noticed her father. The open garage door with an older man working on a new car. Her eyes flickered to the engine crane holding the heavy piece of machinery. Noticing the large boxes littered near the car, she guessed were the new parts.

"Hey pops," Amara greeted her father, hugging him from behind, then moved to stand beside him. Staring at the engine he worked on.

He smiled at the girl pausing his work, "Hey pumpkin, how was school?"

The blonde shrugged, "The same as always," she started by looking at him, "boring," she said and looked back at the engine in front of her, "what are you working on?"

"New car of course," he told her as he held a wrench in hand, “better get back to it, if I want to finish soon.”

The girl nodded and patted his shoulder, “Will do pops, I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

Ryder nodded and watched her walk off to the house he established a while ago. Shaking his head he went back to the unfinished engine.

When they had arrived in Tokyo, he had very little to his name. But luckily the blonde man was an enigma to all the ladies in town. After seeing him carrying a baby all alone, they helped him settle in. And he couldn’t be more grateful with all the help they gave. He was able to get a job and spend time with his daughter. The longer they spent their time in Japan, the slowly he saw this little girl become like him.

He noticed how more questions arose as she grew, all about his hobby with fixing cars. So the man taught her everything he knew, and eventually she made friends that knew more than him. The two become much closer sharing their knowledge on the machinery. The man was happy that he had someone to share a passion with. He couldn't do that with his first born, and he didn’t wan’t to make the same mistake again.

The one thing Ryder was afraid of was Amara finding about the underground. He prayed and pleaded to the gods that she wouldn’t become one of those girls that sold their bodies for money. Of course part of his wish did not come true. Amara was a car fanatic at heart just like him. It was only time when she found the adrenaline blood cruising sport.

While at work he would hear the whispers of his co-workers about the events of the underground. He had heard the stories of how she became the Princess of the underground. Sure Amara didn’t know that he knew, and he liked the cluelessness of it. Relived that she hadn't become one of those girls that sold their bodies—but someone much more than that. A racer.

When Amara was told to finish school, she wasn’t going to flake out to be pulled back another year. For the past few nights, she had been finishing up all her late work. Even as the year had started, the blonde slacked and was reprimanded for her carelessness. Eventually she finished all the work that her professors expected from her. Hunching over her desk, the blonde scribbled on notebooks, loose sheets, and even typed away on her laptop. All to slowly not realize herself slumped over her desk passed out.

A few hours later, Ryder who was in the kitchen called out her name. After silence he called a couple more times only to get no response. The girl hadn't eaten her dinner, which he had ordered ages ago. Annoyed the man got up from the desk and walked up to her room.

"Amara—" he cut himself off when his eyes fell on the sleeping figure.

The blonde lay on her desk, pencil hanging off her fingers still. The man smiled softly and walked over and carried her to her bed. Pulling a blanket over her body and she shifted in her subconscious. Quietly he left the room, shutting the door softly. Letting the girl get her much-needed rest.

When morning came, the blonde was rudely awoken by her alarm. The sharp ringing of the bell causes Amara to groan and slam her hand on the alarm. Begrudgingly she got up rubbing her hands over her face. Hoping to get rid of some of her drowsiness. It only helped so much.

Getting up the girl picked up her uniform off the floor. Glad that before she had started all her work, she changed to more comfortable clothing. Changing into it, she walked over to her dresser to brush the tangles out of her hair. After a few strokes, she put it down and ran her finger through to make sure it was indeed smooth.

Walking out of her room, she headed to the bathroom to brush her teeth quickly. Finishing up in her room, she packed up all her work and shoved it in her shoulder bag. Slinging it over, then walking over to the kitchen. Picking up an apple. A drastic change to the breakfasts her father use to make.

"I'll see you later pops!" she called out hoping he heard her.

Not waiting for a response, she headed out the house towards the trains once more. As she jumped on she spotted her friend. Smiling she shoved through people who were unhappy as she did so.

"Twinkie!" she called out to the dark-skinned boy at the end of the train.

The boy smiled his dimples showing as he saw the familiar blonde, "Amara why weren't you at the races yesterday?” he asked worriedly as she was missing for a couple nights in a row. Depriving them all from their so called princess.

The girl gave him a laugh as he saw her face, "I'm fine, I was finishing up my work, but don't worry I'll be going today,” she finished poking his nose.

Twinkie nodded, "The oldest finally finished her work, about time," he muttered towards her.

Amara rolled her eyes and slapped the back of his head, "Shut up idiot," she told him with a groan. Still a little embarrassed about being the oldest in the school just because she didn’t do her work.

The two then silently waited for the train to arrive at school. Soon enough the two walk into the school not missing the looks they gave the blonde girl.

In Japan, there weren't many foreigners, not that she was one since she grew up in the country. But the fact that a blonde girl like her was even around was eye-catching. The students didn't know how a girl like her was hanging around a guy like Twinkie.

Amara had always been a nice girl, she didn't mind talking with others no matter where they came from. But being nice wasn't always best for her. Got her in trouble plenty of times before. Plus, she was nice until she wasn't. Her father made sure she knew how to take care of herself, and damn well he did it well. Having his daughter end up in the headmaster’s office with bloody knuckles.

Twinkie and Amara entered the school and waved a short goodbye, as they headed to their lockers. The blonde turned the dial on her locker, shoving books she had brought home. Making her bag lighter than it once was, sighing in relief. Shutting the door, she locked it once more and headed to her first class. Math— unfortunately.

"Amara, you weren't in the underground yesterday," Neela's soft voice said to her. As they removed their shoes and placed them in the cubbies, “Again,” she added having to listen

The blonde nodded, putting on the blue slippers, "I was finishing up my work," she told her friend as they walked into the classroom. Their seats were right beside one another.

As Neela settled into her seat, the blonde grabbed all her work and placed it on her professor's table, "I finished all my work, I hope it is to your standards," she told the woman dressed in bright pink. Bowing slightly she smiled at the woman.

The older woman pushed her glasses up her nose and bowed as well, "Amara I'm glad to see you still use your brains, good to have you back," she told her with a smile, making her eyes crinkle up.

The blonde nodded and sat by Neela in her seat. Taking out her notebook and writing down notes as the professor began teaching. It wasn't hard as she was being taught, but that was maybe because she understood the material. As her friends like telling her, she was just smart, she didn't even have to try with a lot of the things she wanted to learn. Her father liked to tell her she was naturally smart, but never used her skills. That included driving and cars themselves.

It had been the middle of class when most of the class noticed a new figure in the room. It was obvious he was new and foreign. His features were very western just like Amara’s.

The man paused and looked at the students, his eyes briefly on Amara, then moving to Neela beside her. He grinned at the sight of her, and Amara suspected the girl did too. If her intuition was right, this new western boy would bring trouble to Tokyo.

"Wrong train," he said to the woman, his voice having a western drawl to it. So not only was he western but American.

The woman walked over to him and grabbed his paper, "I'm new here," he told her hoping she would understand—the woman did not, and spoke to him in Japanese.

By the look on his face, he didn't understand what she was saying, especially once she bowed and saw his shoes. His face was riddled with confusion.

As the woman continued to repeat her words, he still couldn't understand her. Amara sighed and looked at him, "You're shoes," she told him motioning her slippers.

The boy looked at her and nodded, walking out of the classroom to change his shoes. Once he walked back in he made his way to the back of the classroom where they had seats open.

Neela and Amara looked at each other and giggled softly, turning their attention to the professor as she resumed her teaching. As the bell rang almost an hour later, the girls packed up their bags and left the American boy to find his way. Class after class, Amara wondered how he was settling in. She was sure the headmaster thought of asking if she could be his tour guide, but then remembered the type of girl the blonde was. Not that she blamed them, she had gotten into more fights in the school than most thought possible.

Finally, lunchtime rolled around, the blonde's favorite time of the day. Meeting up with Twinkie she grabbed her bowl of ramen, the only thing she loved to eat—that and jalapeño poppers.

"Hey look it's the new kid," she nudged him, spotting the American sitting alone. It was probably time she introduced herself to the American boy.

The two smiled at each other walking over and sitting on either side of the boy. Which seemed to confuse him as he watched the two on either side.

"Japanese food is like the Army," Twinkie began holding the boy's gaze.

Amara slurrping her noodles nodded, "Don't ask, don't tell," she added watching him look her over.

The American didn't say anything, instead, he just continued eating, wanting to be alone. But got company from a black boy and white girl who had been probably the hottest he'd ever seen. He didn’t know he would ever find such a person here.

"Name's Twinkle," he introduced, "Girl next to you, Amara," he said for her as she was preoccupied with her noddles.

Turning to his bag he continued to ramble, "Hey I noticed you ain't have a laptop," he began taking one out of his bag, causing Amara to roll her eyes.

The American nodded, "Yeah," he said agreeing to watch him open his bag offering a few of his pieces.

"I'll hook you up, half price," he offered him, a partial smile on his face as he had one in hand.

The American thought on it, "No thanks,” he eventually replied and shook his head, it was bad enough he was forced to go to school in a place where one he didn’t speak the language. Two didn’t know where anything was.

Amara snorted as she sipped on the soup, "Good choice, cowboy," she said nudging him.

Twinkie paused to glare at his friend who was ruining a sale, "60% off. Hmm? Since we're both army brats and everything," he tried to offer once more.

Taking a sip of his drink he looked at Twinkie, "I ain't got no cash man, and I ain't an army brat," he told the boy seriously looking back down at his food.

Twinkie nodded taking the answer, "Alright, Alright. How about a new cell phone huh?" he paused to take one out, "Everybody needs a cell phone."

The American put his drink down and turned to the blonde, "Does he ever give up?" He asked her his southern drawl making her smile.

She leaned over to him and whispered, "No, but he moves on after a while," she told him pointing her chop sticks at her friend.

He sighed and looked back at Twinkie, and glanced at Amara, "No offense, but I'm probably not gonna be here long enough to remember your name." He told the two.

Amara shook her head at the words, moving back to her noodles she ignored Twinkie's talk about shoes. She had a feeling that his words were very much a lie, and she was never wrong.

"You selling that Sparco steering wheel?" He suddenly asked, catching Amara's attention, oh this is good.

She looked at him and made an impressed face, "You knew what that was?" She asked curiously now turning her head towards him.

The American turned and furrowed his eyebrows, "Why wouldn't I?" he asked her, but now it was his turn to be surprised. Did she know what it was?

The blonde ignored his question, putting down her chopsticks she moved her hand to his arm. Turning his palm to face her, running her fingers over the callouses on them. Putting his arm down she smiled, "You're a mechanic?" she asked him a brow raised as her brown eyes met his.

He furrowed his eyebrows, "How'd you know?" he asked her curiously.

Twinkie laughed, "She would know. She and her pops work on cars all the time," he told him.

The brunette man looked at her and smiled, "Nice to know. What do you drive?"

Amara laughed and placed her hand on his shoulders, "Start with Twinkie first huh? His ride is one of a kind," she said smiling her voice low at mention of her friends’ car.

"One of a kind?" he asked the turned to Twinkie, "Show me."

Twinkie laughed, "Thought you weren't stickin' around?" he asked.

At that, the American shrugged, and so Twinkie nodded, "All right. You comin' right, Amara?"

With noddles in her mouth, she nodded, "I'll meet you at the garage," that she stood and looked at the boys, "Bye now," she waved and walked off clean off tray in hand.

The American boy watched the blonde walk off. Turning to Twinkie he had to ask, "Is she your girlfriend?"

Twinkie snorted, "God no, she's like a sister to me, but don't think about it."

The other boy snorted, “Wasn’t,” not even he knew if he meant that. The blonde was a nice sight on anyones eyes. Rosy lips and cheeks, and not to mention her adorable dimples that appeared with her every smile.

And just like that time flew and Amara rushed home to change to meet Twinkie and Sean she would later learn, at the garage.

Throwing her bag onto her bed, the girl rummaged through her closet to find the perfect outfit. Laughing when she did. Paying homage to her new cowboy friend. She found the most Texas outfit she could find. A red and white plaid miniskirt with a brown suede fringe belt. With a matching top of the same design. Slipping her feet into some cowgirl boots and a hat. She grabbed her keys and ran out of the house before her father could see her. Not needing to be yelled at for her outfit by the man.

Walking to her garage she spotted her beauty. Nissan Skyline GT-R R34 in a beautiful dark blue. She wasn't going to lie, it was one of her favorite cars she's ever driven. The fact that it had been a gift made it all the better, not the gift itself but who it was from.

Making her way towards Twinkie's house, it wasn't long as he didn't live far from her. Parking the car she noticed they were standing by the garage. Getting out of the car she walked over to stand beside Sean.

He looked at Amara briefly and smiled, but took a double look when he noticed what she was wearing, "Amara, what in God's name," he said breathing out his eyes glued to her skin on show.

The blonde laughed, twirling for him, "Just for you cowboy," she said winking at him causing him to blush.

Twinkie rolled his eyes at the two, every person that had met Amara, thought they had a chance. But none were ever good enough for the blonde, no one would ever be. Well, at least that’s what everyone thought.

The cars moved along as Sean guessed each one, but none were it. That was until, Amara nudged him, "That's his beauty."

A bright green Volkswagen Touran, with Hulk written all over it. The inside lined purple fur. Twinkie smiled at the sight of her. That was his prized possession. The very car he worked hard to cater to his likes.

"You coming with us?" Sean asked as he looked at the car, moving to open the back door for her.

The blonde shook her head and patted his shoulder, "Oh no, I'm driving mine," she said walking over to her parked Skyline in which Sean looked awe. He now understood why Twinkie told him not to think about it. There is no way in hell anyone can handle a woman who knew her shit.

Sean had gotten the chance to drive Twinkie's car, and as they got to their destination, he was nervous by the way Twinkie explained things. So new to everything about Japan and its whole underground car rules. Arriving he noticed all the girls in miniskirts and revealing clothing. Not far from what he had seen Amara wear, but somehow he knew they weren’t the same. Sean parked the car, and he and Twinkie made their way out.

The American glanced at all the cars displayed all down the line from his. Noticing all the different people working on them. He then heard her before he could see her. Amara’s Skyline that is, she was a beauty along side its driver.

His eyes watched as her blue beauty pulled up next to a guy leaning on his car as he ate chips. Noticing the older man have his eyes trained on the door, where Amara would step out from.

The blonde pushed open her door, placing her foot out and then the other. Careful to place a hand on her hat as she sat up, not wanting to knock the hat off.

"Ah and so she arrives, the girl of the hour," A voice speaks making her turn to him.

The girl smiles softly at the sight, walking over to him, not missing how his eyes wandered over her body, “And good to see the man of the hour, my dear old Han” she greeted getting closer. Making the girls around his arms scatter.

Finally standing before him, she stole some of his chips in hand. He never once took his eyes off her, “Who are you calling old?” He mumbled looking down at her lips where the piece of chip disappeared.

Amara laughed looking at the floor before moving her eyes to look at him through her lashes, “You of course,” she replied

He just smiled, "Always."

Beside him was Takashi or as everyone calls him DK, "Amara, who's the tourist?" he asked her, his eyes on the other side.

Amara turned to see Sean talking with Neela, something she hoped wouldn't happen. Especially how it would overcomplicate things.

Before Amara could answer Han spoke up, "What's with you and the schoolgirls, D? You're moving up in the world. You gotta elevate your company." he told him as he began to walk away not waiting for a response.

The blonde gave him a look, "And that makes me what, chopped liver?" she tells him as she pats his cheek softly. Using an expression she saw on some Western show a while ago.

Han just rolled his yes, and watched as the blonde walked towards their mutual friend Takashi. He just hoped he wouldn’t do anything rash. Rather than think about it, he just watched Amara’s blonde hair bounce as she walked ahead of him.

"Hey!" he heard him call out to Sean not before wrapping his arms around Neela.

"He was just leaving," Twinkie said separating the couple, being Sean who reluctantly moved away from Amara’s best friend.

Sean furrowed his eyebrows them when Takashi said some things in Japanese. The American only shrugged at the mention, "I'm sorry I don't speak Japanese," Sean told the man standing behind Neela.

Takashi only smirked and paused looking to his friends then he kissed Neela's cheek, "Understand that? Gaijin?"

Amara looked over at Takashi with a frown on her face. Gaijin was a term to call white foreigners, a disrespectful type of way. She heard others call her that a coupe times growing up. But thanks to her reckless nature into staring fights it quickly came to halt. That although didn’t mean she like to hear it being used for others.

Neela felt the need to intervene, "Takashi," she said trying to get him to stop, turning her head and giving him a look.

Then the big idiot Sean continued it, "We were just talking," he reassured her, his eyes them moving to the man holding Neela.

Amara stepped forward and pressed her hand on his chest, "Sean this isn't your scene," she tried to warn him looking at him seriously, “This will only get you into trouble you don’t want to start,” she added hoping that she would knock some sense into him.

Sean looked at the blonde momentarily, he saw the warning in her eyes, but he paid her no mind. He moved his hand to her hips, and physically removed her away from him. Eyes dead set on Takashi, "That word you called me, gaijin or something or other, what does that mean exactly?"

Amara rolled her eyes, this wasn't going to end well. It was hard enough to make yourself known in the underground. But picking a fight with Takashi and his girl wouldn’t help one bit.

"It means, turns around, and keep walking," he threatened him, lips pursed at the sight of the white man who continued to fight his word.

Twinkie in hopes to avoid a fight, "That's exactly what we gonna do. Come on, man, let's roll."

Tired of it Amara walked over to stand by Han who had seemly followed. She too leaned against the car. The left in comfortable silence as they listened to the argument unfold.

"Now, see, that's funny, 'cause I thought this was, like, a free country where a girl could talk to whoever she wants," Sean said turning back around to speak with Takashi.

"He's an idiot,” she hissed smacking her forehead with her palm, Han only chuckled beside her.

Lifting her head she watched as Takashi walked close to Sean, to the point where she thought they would kiss. Obviously not, but she found it funny that they were that close. So she let out an amused grin at the sight.

"You know who I am, boy?" Takashi asked with a smug smile on his face.

"Yeah, You're like the Justin Timberlake of Japan, right?" he asked him seriously.

Amara couldn’t take it, so she moved her head to side and buried it into Han’s shoulder, “This is getting embarrassing,” she whined into his jacket, feeling the rumbles of his silent chuckle.

Takashi just chuckled, not that it was funny, but he was ready to beat this bitch up. Neela tried pushing him back, telling him it's not worth it. Obviously, it wasn't working as Takashi was now riled up over some American boy. The only people who tend to do that.

Han who was beside Amara was smirking as he ate his chips, "You found yourself an interesting friend," he told her turning his head slightly, his breathing reaching her face on his shoulder.

Pulling her head from her hiding spot, she shook her head and looked a her friend, "Sean just leave," Amara called to him as she watched Neela try to calm him down.

Twinkie pushed him away from the two, "Damn, man. You know yakuza?" he tried to explain to him. "The Mafia? Look, sorry, DK-San. Monkey didn't have his banana today." he finished glaring at Sean, doing his best to keep him moving.

The blonde looked over at Han, "Do something," she told him, shoving him towards the commotion, “You always know what to do,” she mumbled eyes big in hopes of persuading.

The looked down at the very eyes that doomed him, "Anything for you," he said giving her a smile, then moved over to Takashi, "Hey, D, let's go. It's time to race."

With that, Takashi pulled back began walking away with his group. Not wanting to deal with the stupid American school boy.

For a second Amara let out a breath of relief that it would all be over. But Sean just had to open his mouth and made her groan out loud.

"Good luck, Timberlake," Sean called out before he could totally leave.

Amara saw Takashi make a complete 180 to walk to Sean. Eyes going wide, she rushed to step in front of Sean, placing her hands on his chest lightly pushing back, "Takashi don't do this, he's a complete idiot who's out of his league," she tried telling him, hoping he would listen to her words.

Takashi paused to look at the blonde, "He has to learn Amara, you know this," he replied and looked back at Sean, "you're the one who's lucky, 'cause I'm about to race."

"Then let's race," Sean replied as if it was nothing.

Takashi laughed and rightfully so, what would a foreigner like him know about racing? Nonetheless Tokyo racing. "With what, huh? Your skateboard? Easy to sound cocky when you got no ride," he finished.

"Take mine," Han said from behind throwing him his keys to his car.

"Let's race," he said finally. Turning around walking to his car, not before glaring at Han that is. The man just giving him a smile, as he popped a chip into his mouth.

The blonde couldn’t help but give Han a look, "You're kidding right?” She said walking in his direction.

He looked at her and shook his head, "No, I want to see what the kid's got," he told her.

"He's gonna wreck it," she told him sighing watching the American boy walk away from the empty scene.

He just threw another chip in his mouth, "You coming?"

She waved him off and watched him leave turning to Sean, "You're fucking insane Sean."

She pulled him into the elevator as Twinkie got in. The two natives of Japan already imaging the worst for their new friend. It wasn’t like they were afraid of Takashi. They were concerned for Sean's safety, especially with what he just got himself into. Sean knew nothing of Tokyo racing.

He suddenly asked the two, "Can he drive?” Turning to look at the duo on his either side.

Twinkie scoffed, "Can he drive?" he repeated sarcastically, "Do you know what DK stands for?"

"Donkey Kong?" he replied jokingly.

Amara slapped the back of his head, "No idiot, Drift King,” she hissed, and she gave a dark chuckle, “And I know damn well you won’t be the winning,” she mumbled more to herself.

He hissed and rubbed his head looking at her, "Drift? What do you mean drift?"

She cupped Sean's face with her hand and turned it to the elevator door. Just in time, the doors opened and two cars drifted seamlessly past them. The vehicles glided smoothly catching his attention. He was in deep shit now.

Twinkie smirked, "Still need a dictionary?"

Amara walked forward to Han's car, "Now Sean do you know the famous painting of the woman who smiles gracefully?"

He rose an eyebrow, "The Mona Lisa?" he answered.

"That's right cowboy, The Mona Lisa, well this is her," she began explaining, patting the car they stood by.

"Built from the ground up," Twinkie added, "We talking forged pistons, bigger turbo, new rods, new crankshaft."

"This is Han's labor, take care of her," Amara said leaning at the window with Twinkie.

Sean's eyes said it all, he looked over at her, "Well, if I needed a 30-second lesson on how to drift..." he trailed off.

Amara closed her eyes and sighed, "Sean, my god, Twinkie," she offered and walked off, patting the car before leaving.

Her eyes found Han and she shook her head, "You have too much trust, but today could be the worst one yet."

He rose an eyebrow, "What makes you say that?” He asks his hand brushing over her exposed skin on her hip.

She chuckled wrapping her hands around his neck leaning closer, "Oh, baby you'll see," she chuckled and kissed his cheek softly. Then pulled away to sit beside him.

There was a saying that some people were born to dance, and it’s true. Another was that people knew how to drive. Takashi was a perfect example of the saying. Ever since he was a child, he was known to be the Yakuza child. Heir to his father’s grand plan and kingdom. But somehow he managed to find interest in a little something more. Racing. Being the son of a powerful man, meant nothing for racing.

Takashi had just this natural aura about driving, he was perfect. His car a crystalline extension of himself. Angry rumbles that echoed, efficient in terrifying everyone. He never missed.

Whileon the other hand of the wheel was Sean. A teenage boy that was way in over his head. He claims to be a fanatic about cars, but she could see he had a lot to learn. She pitied him, but there wasn't anything that could done, but watch him destroy the car. A beautiful car to top it off.

The two lined up next each other, revving engines in hopes of intimidation. Sean had a goofy little smile on his face, but boy would it be fast to fall. When the screams of go echoed.

The screeching of Sean’s car was off. Mistake, to at least any racer, the first thing they did was cringe. He started off to fast to make that sharp of a turn. She just sighed when she watched the car slam onto the wall.

Amara looked over at Han with an "I told you," face. He didn't say anything but continued to look forward. As they had rounded the corner, everyone rushed to the stairs to make sure they didn't miss anything.

Getting up from the car they had been leaning on, she turned and offered her hand. The man looked at it and reluctantly took it. The two hand-in-hand walked to elevators which were unoccupied.

As they stepped into the elevator the screeches and crashes could echo around. Han turned to the blonde, "You know that was you at one point."

She faced him and rolled her eyes, "Not that bad," she told him cocking her head to the side.

He laughed softly, "I suppose so," he added moving closer to the girl in front of him.

It had been known that Han fooled around with whomever he wanted. But oddly there were no girls out there to tell the stories of that. The rumor that flew was that he was going out with Amara. The American girl who grew up in Japan and became the princess of the underground. The very girl that Han had taught to drift. That's when the rumors began, because of how close they had been. But the dating rumors didn't really start until news broke out that he had gifted her a car.

He moved his hands to brush over her exposed skin, making her shiver. It wasn’t any cold by any means, but the effect of his touch made her wonder. In return she moved her hands around his neck once more.

"You look pretty tonight, princess," he said moving his face down to hers. Tipping her hat back so he could see her pretty eyes.

She smiled, "Only for you," she replied and closed the gap between them. Their lips touch and move against each other. He moved his teeth to softly bite her bottom lip, letting her open her mouth. Their tongues now brushing against each other.

Amara moved her hands up to his hair, pushing his face deeper into hers. Making a simple kiss turned into a full-blown-out make-out session. As he gripped her hips she groaned into his mouth. Slowly the two pulled apart, strings of saliva stretching as they did.

"I missed that yesterday," he said to her, eyes moving to look at her face. Every little part of it. Especially the dimples a grew on her cheeks as she smile up at him.

Amara laughed moving her hands to his chest down to his pockets, “And I miss every time," she told him grabbing a bag of chocolate pandas cookies. Opening it as the elevators opened.

He watched her put some in her mouth and noticed they were gone from his pocket, "Hey, princess those are mine," he called her as she walked away from him.

As expected Takashi arrived first at the top, unscathed as usual. It wasn't moments later that Sean arrived with a scrap of a car. Bumper hanging off, headlights exploded, fenders missing, dents everywhere. Everyone was either gasping or laughing at the state of the car.

Amara looked at Han, "Definitely not me," she said patting his chest, whilst giving him his snack back. He watched as the blonde left with Twinkie not far from her.

It had been a disaster, of course, the race. She warned him and yet the boy didn't listen. Of course, it wouldn't be her paying for the damages. It would be Sean somehow. She knew Han would make him work for it.

Parking her Skyline she locked it up and headed straight to her room. Quickly changing into something comfortable. Then a knock followed on her door.

"Yeah?" she called out, watching as the door opened to see her father at the door.

He smiled, "You took the Skyline, so I figure you were out?"

The girl nodded, "It was a mess pops, a new kid tried to race today, didn't end too well for him." she started, "And we tried to warn him not to."

The man shrugged, "Well maybe this will be his beginning to it, he'll learn," he tried to offer.

Ryder had known that eventually, his daughter would find the racing world of Tokyo. But he didn't want her falling into the wrong hands, so he told her about it. Making sure she knew what she was doing. From the looks of it, she's doing alright for herself.

"How's Han?" he suddenly asked.

The girl waved him off, "He's fine—" she stopped dead in her tracks and looked up at her father, "Pops how did you know?"

Ryder laughed, "I didn't, but I do now," he said, "Good night, kid."

As he closed the door, Amara threw herself onto her pillow and screamed. All of it coming muffled. The one thing she was hoping to keep, just spilled like running water. A secret she and Han tried hard to keep.

The following day at school was interesting. Sean would receive looks from everyone. He spotted the familiar blonde and walked over to her, opening his mouth to say something.

She lifted her hand, "Not right now Sean," she told him and patted his shoulder. Most of the day went alike, everyone whispering about Sean's race. The worst one to date.

Amara stayed with Neela for most of the day, not wanting to rile up people if she was seen with Sean. The final bell rang and everyone headed out.

The blonde made sure she had everything in her bag, then looked out to see a car. Sticking out like a sore thumb. Along with its owner.

"I know you're not here for me since you never pick me up," she said to him as she walked closer to Han. Crossing her arms as he smiled while leaning on the car.

"Do you want me to pick you up?" he asked the side of his lip lifting to her a half-smile, "I wouldn't mind," he added lifting his hand to brush her hair behind her ear.

Amara scoffed lightly, “No, don’t need more attention drawn to myself,” she paused to look at his car, “especially, with the choice of transportation you’d bring,” she said motioning to the bright orange Mazda, “But I’m assuming you’re here to Starting to torture Sean?"

"I gotta get paid," he told her with a shrugs, removing his hand from her cheek. She bit her lip at his statement. Amara didn’t know why but his aloofness to everything made him attractive

She nodded and closed the gap between them, kissing the corner of his lips, "I'll see you later," she said and patted his chest.

"Alright, princess," he replied and watched her walk towards the trains, a smile subtly on his lips.

Sean noticed their interaction and looked confused. He’d have to ask about that later, but rather than think about Amara and Han, he made his way over to the man.

"Get in," was all Han said motioning the car.

Sean paused and sighed, "I'll get you your money,” he said solemnly knowing he definitely fucked up.

Standing he gave him an amused look, "Why are you talking like you have a choice?" Han said getting in the car. After Sean was in the car, he drove off the school gates.

While in the car he was curious, he had to know, "You and Amara," he began catching a glance from Han, "are you two a thing"

Han smiled, “Why are you interested?" he asked glancing at him for a moment.

Sean paled at the question, “Uh, N-no, I mean she’s hot—I mean pretty, but if you’re with her I’m not thinking about her like that,” he rambled and blushed looking away from Han not wanting to dig himself in a bigger hole.

Han just chuckled at Sean’s nervousness, “Calm yourself, nothing serious,” he replied not answering his question to begin with.

The rest of the drive was quiet until they arrived at their destination, "There's a guy in there with a paw that owes me some money," Han explained to Sean.

"A paw?" Sean asked very much confused.

Han looked at the bathhouse, "Go get me my money.”

While, Sean struggled his way into the bath house, on the very other side of town were two girls. Neela and Amara, shopping around as they usually do during their downtime. The two laughed at their inside jokes, all while pointing at cute items in shops. It wasn’t rare to see the two out and about, everyone knew the two at this point. Plus spending money on clothes was one of Amara's favorite past times. Especially when it wasn’t her money to spend.

Amara then paused and looked at her friend, “Now, please tell me I’m not crazy,” with a smirk she continued, “You like Sean or just a bit interested, right?” Amara asked as they walked the streets of the busy lit-up streets.

The brunette looked down and sighed, “I am, but you know I can't leave Takashi, he won't let me leave.”

Amara wrapped an arm around her friend, "I know,” she replied sighing and looked up at the dark sky, “But I have a feeling something good is going to happen for you,”

Neela rolled her eyes, “While on the topic of boyfriends, when did you and Han start?” She asked a smirk now gracing her face.

The blonde blushed and looked away, “It hasn’t been long…” she trailed off, “We didn’t want anyone knowing, but I guess with how long it’s gone,” she paused to look at her friend, “It’s about time.”

Her friend laughed at the thought, “Oh its about time alright, I never missed your little doe eyes at him,” she teased, already knowing. Everyone else might hear the rumors, but she knew the minute the blonde had Han trailing behind her with a stupid smile only looking at her.

As they continued to walk the girls talked about no sense that took them away from Tokyo for a little while.

"By the way, I love your outfit," Neela motioned to her cropped pink velvet jack covered with hearts, along with some low-waisted straight fit jeans with a bedazzle cherry on the butt, and to finish off her pink converse peaking out at the bottom.

Amara gave her a twirl, "Awe thank you, but look you over here," she motioned to her feather jacket. As the two arrived at their destination they noticed Sean at the payphone.

"Here comes your second boyfriend," Amara whisperers to her friend. The girl shoving Amara at her words, making the blonde giggle.

The boy looks at the two, "Hi Amara," he drawls greeting her, eyes trailing over her bright pink clothes.

"Sean," she returns with a wiggle of her fingers and leaves the two alone. Smiling as she walked away noticing Han’s car. Placing her bags on the hood, she sits and leans back on it. Staring mindlessly at the neon lights, and people living about on the streets.

Amara didn’t even notice when the sliding doors opened, revealing Han. His eyes darting to Sean talking to Neela, then to his car where he paused. His darling girl sat looking all pretty.

"Not that I don't mind the sudden visit, but what are you doing here?" he asked as she stood from the car to greet him.

She smiled and rose a brow at the sight of him,"Hi Han," she answered instead.

The man got closer his hand reaching for hers, lifting it to his mouth he placed a kiss on it, "Hi princess."

She smiled at the affection, "You do realize we're in public," she told him, not wanting to ruin something they've hidden well for months, even if it has slowly been falling apart.

"Yeah, I don't care about it anymore," he said pulling on the hand was holding. Pulling Amara into his chest, "It's about time everyone knows I'm the only one that can do this."

With that he leaned down to kiss the lady in his arms, feeling her cheeks heat up at the action. Making him smirk into the kiss. Now, he had everything he could ever want in Tokyo. The blonde being the fitting puzzle piece. For a few minutes the two continued locking lips, tongues and teeth clashing. Before pulling apart, he looked down at her lips, loving the sighed of them being slightly bruised all from him.

As the two separated a little more, his eyes trailed over to Sean who was speaking—more arguing from the looks. The brunette walking away from the teen boy.

"I'll call you," Neela said looking towards Amara who nodded and gave her a smile. The three of them watched as the girl walked in.

Han then turned and looked over at Amara, "You coming?" he asked her, hand now lingering on her hip.

Amara broke her trance from Neela and looked back at Han, “I wouldn't decline such an offer," she said smiling looking up at him, lifting to her toes to peck his lips once more.

Sean walked up to the couple, "So you are together?" he asked them, watching the two after their kiss.

Amara crossed her arms, “Why interested?" she asked him seriously a brown raised.

Causing Sean to pause and look over at Han who had an amused smile on his face, “Shut up Amara,” he said rolling his eyes, “those two were made for each other,” he then mumbled crossing his arms.

Han rolled his eyes as he grabbed her bags and placed them in the trunk.

"Wait she's coming with us?" Sean asked as he watched him put the bags away, "It's a two-seater.”

Amara grinned at his statement, “Sure is cow-boy,” following to sit on Han’s lap, legs settling between his.

Sean nodded and made an approving face, closing the door for them. This time hopping in the driver’s seat. His face cringing as he climbed in watching the two make out for a few seconds.

Trying to break the smacking noises, ”Is everything okay back there?" Sean asked Han.

Pulling away from Amara who just brushed her hand through his hair, “I can handle DK," Han replied easily looking towards the teenage boy.

Amara snorted, "Everyone can," she added head leaned onto Han's shoulder, conturing to run her hands through his hair.

Sean rose an eyebrow, "You know about this life?” He was surprised to know that Amara knew what was going on. He wondered if she was in the same situation as Neela who was forced to be into a relationship with Han. It wasn’t that he was bad, but he just hoped he was wrong.

The blonde rolled her eyes, "I grew up here Sean, I knew about it before Han here even arrived," she told him, easing his nervous about the whole forced relationship theory.

Han smiled nodding, "It was, princess here who led me into the business," he finished as slowly slid his hand up and down her thigh.

"But DK he's Yakuza," Sean said carefully, not wanting to see his new friend in trouble with the guy that out showed him days ago.

The couple chuckled, "Wanna be Yakuza," Amara said.

"His uncle's Yakuza, he's just playing gangster in his little storage room. But I need him. He keeps his uncle Yamata from poking in too much." He explained.

Amara played with the ends of his hair by his neck, "Which will get you in trouble once he finds out," she warned him not wanting to see another of the people she cares about in that situation.

Han looked at his girl and squeezed her waist reassuringly, "I'll be okay,” this did not calm her worrying, but settled her nerves for the mean time.

Sean was still confused, "What do you mean?"

Han sighed, "Well, his uncle gets a piece of the action from everyone on his turf. We're on his turf." He told him, "And fifty percent of something is better than a hundred percent of nothing," finishing his tale.

"So you raced DK?" The American asked a smirk on his face.

Han made a face that signaled he hasn't. Making Amara chuckle continuing to play with his hair in reach.

"Why not? Is he that good?" Sean asked in disbelief not wanting it to be true.

"What's the point of a race?" Han asks Sean not seeing the teenagers need to be the winner.

Sean paused and smirked, "To see if I'm better than the other guy," he mockingly replied, of course he would think that.

Amara rolled her eyes, "Wrong, Sean. You shouldn't race just to see who's faster. You race for something important."

Sean furrowed his eyebrows, "Sounds like you had to race for something important," he told her.

She nodded, "Yeah my car and freedom,” she told him.

"The skyline?"

Amara laughed, "No, actually this one," she told him motioning the car he was currently driving.

Sean's face was priceless, "Is that true?" He asked Han who had a proud look on his face.

He nodded, "She won the race and the car, but it wasn't the one she wanted so she gifted it to me."

"And in return, he gave you the Skyline?" Sean asked his female friend.

She shook her head, "No," she answered simply with a blush lightly on her face. Remembering when Han had given her the prized possession of hers.

Han chuckled at her not wanting to explain, "She got the Skyline because she wanted it," he told Sean, “and I give my girl anything she wants.”

Amara smirked, "No, it's because you're obsessed with me," she told him with a smile.

Sean laughed at her words but didn't say anything. With the way, Amara knew her way around cars, the way she looked, and spoke. He wasn't at all surprised Han had taken a liking to her. The more he thought about it, the more he knew he would’ve sailed that ship if Han hadn’t already.

If it hadn't been Neela that he had taken a liking to. It would be Han that he would have problems with. The blonde girl was attractive and smart. The best part—she knew how to race.

#han seoul oh x oc #han seoul oh #the fast saga #the fast and the furious #tokyo drift #amara o'connor #fast & furious #sung kang

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urfavnegronerd · 10 months

Text

dreaming of you- selena

trope: angst because i'm missing someone real hard rn so now its everyone's problem

published: july 20, 2023

warnings: sadness, possible errors (i edited it by myself so i did my best), tried rly hard to use regular punctuation, i haven't used y/n in a fic ever so for now we have a good ol character name that u can substitute if you'd like, alternates from past to present tense but let me know if i messed that up a bit so i can fix it for the sake of clarity, religious themes if you squint (a church, a saint and a prayer, nun too crazy mostly just honoring someone), i think that's it

pairing: oc (amari, gender neutral) x miles (1610 or e42, either works)

wc: 1.7k ish

cielito- little sky (at least that's how my family uses it), amor/ mi amor- love/ my love

Late at night when all the world is sleeping, I stay up and think of you

Time is fleeting, the days turn into months into years and however long. The concept of time is funny because doctors will tell you that you have a new dermal layer about every month. So my body has forgotten and forgotten him. It’s strange because he– Miles, is always in the back of my mind, tucked away quietly for me and only me.

It’s been three years since Miles’ passing.

and I wish on a star

If I were to talk about Miles, I would tell you about his voice and how smooth it would sound

“Amari,” he calls, reaching out for me. I hum a response, distracted by the calculus assignment in front of me. if I had known, I would have given him a proper answer.

“Are you busy?”

“ ’s just a little bit of calc” I mumble.

“Oh. Do you need help?” I shook my head in response, too prideful to ask that of him. I felt him slowly and gently pad his way over next to me, the carpeting absorbing the sound, and put his head on my shoulder. His curls tickled my pierced ears, the scent of his hair overwhelming my senses. The smell of pomegranate and honey, something so soft and kind to me, to my nose, to my body. If I could go back, I would smell his hair over and over again, to keep that part of him with me, always.

“I just wanted to feel you, Mari,” the mumbles into my shoulder sent butterflies into my stomach, the same way they always did.

After I would tell you about his voice, I would tell you about his mind.

Miles had the most beautiful mind, a painting of beauty in a warzone. A small rose, reaching up from the cracks in the concrete, fighting nature with pure willpower, a colorful muse in the bleakest of places. His mind was the birthplace of such beauties, and treasures, treasures that I will keep tucked away in my head. For me and only me. Something to tell the world, to tell Brooklyn, that Miles Morales was not invisible. He was the opposite. He was vibrant and kind.

“Amari, baby, do you like this with drips?” he asked looking back at me, standing on his tip-toes, his hands smeared with yellow spray paint, trying to reach an impossible spot with no one's shoulders to stand on. I look up from my book, perched on a tattered couch somewhere beyond the train tracks. The light he would use to paint throwies and murals was blinding, he would squint with his whole face starting with his nose and traveling to his eyes, brows, and forehead.

“Yeah. I like the drips a lot baby,” he smiled something goofy, something whole-hearted and warm, no doubt the byproduct of the love he had in his home. In his heart.

Miles was soft, too.

He would lie on his back on the floor, staring at the sky on the rooftop and listening to music. He turned his head to me and stared. He stared at me like I was the brightest light he had to look at, like out of all the constellations I burned the brightest. At that moment, he was Galileo and I was the sky.

“Cielito,” he whispered, taking the wired ear bud out of my ear and gently turning my face towards him. “I’ve never looked at someone as beautiful as you, knowing how much they love me. and I like you so much that I can hardly breathe Amari, and it's like I have this thunder in me, in my veins. You make me nervous. but also calm, calm from lovin'. Mari, I love you.”

Instinctively, I blush, bringing the sweatshirt up and over my mouth. Smiling something fierce, I laugh and press my forehead to his.

“I love you, Miles,” I whisper, staring into his eyes. I had never once been so sure about something in my life. But I was sure about Miles, I was sure about his hazel eyes and tightly wound curls. Sure about the way he looked at me like I was the only thing he could see. I was sure about the comfort and calm in his eyes, a small pearl in our Brooklyn neighborhood.

I was sure about the way he kissed me next, sure about how softly his hands held my face. Sure about the small and rough callouses on his wrists, and how no matter how rough the world saw Spiderman, he was soft. comfort, warmth, and all of which are attributes of a home. And the more that I think about it, he was home.

That somewhere you are thinking of me too

I slam my hand on my alarm with a vengeance, and a seething ache in my heart arises as I look around my room. Sage green walls once clad with photos and posters, now stare back at me, tangled in bed, empty. All signs of a life that were once reflected on these walls are gone. Boxes litter my floor, and shelves once full of trophies, plaques, books, and jewelry, are empty. The only remnant I have of this room being full of warmth is in my head, tucked away neatly next to the memories of Miles. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes and tugging off my bonnet, I shimmy into cargo pants and a too-big hoodie. Miles’ hoodie. Folding up my pajamas, taking the sheets off my bed, and neatly folding them, I push the rest of my life into a box half full.

I can’t tell if it’s anger or sadness that fuels me, but I push the boxes into one corner and sit on the edge of my now-stripped bed. I stare at the fire escape, the cool metal being the home to several sleepless nights, endless secret kisses and so much more. Memories of a life that’s been loved.

A surge of emotion hikes in my chest, something that I don’t want to deal with, at least not yet. I pull on an old and battered pair of hightops and hike down the fire escape one last time. One last stop at the bodega down the block for flowers and a bag of sweet plantain chips, lightly salted. One last time to shove my metro card into the reader.

Waiting for the train, I look up and see the sticker Miles stuck on the ceiling rail. I don't think Jefferson had the heart to take them down after he passed. Memories of a boy was loved beyond belief. Tugging the hood of my sweater over my head, I enter the train and grasp the cool metal. Something to ground me at this moment that feels surreal. Something to hold on to, an island in a hurricane.

Stepping off the train, a shiver runs down my spine. The air hangs thick, despite the cool summer weather and a feeling of sorrow creeps up my throat again. Pushing it down, I walk. Walk past the small costume shop and endless coffee chains and then I stop. The church hangs ominously over me like it’s betting on me to turn back. To run from this nightmare, this anger, this pain in my chest.

Shakily, I step forward, swerving behind the building and into the graveyard. Miles is next to Peter Parker, and I huff at the irony of it all. Clutching the chips and carnations in my hand, I walk to the heavily decorated graves. Emotions tug at my chest and prick my eyes. I finally let it leak from my tear ducts and streak my face.

“Hi Miles,” I look at his headstone, half expecting him to respond in his slight Brooklyn drawl. I half expect him to reply Hi, Mari clear as day, like he used to. He doesn’t.

“I leave for school today. It’s far, in Rhode Island.”

I pause, my face contorting violently before finally letting out a choked sob.

“You know, your mom keeps telling me that you wouldn’t want to see me like this. That I should let it out. And I feel so angry about it. Not at Rio, of course. Angry because who the hell gave you the idea that you could leave? Leave before Rio got to scream at our graduation. I’m not angry at you Miles, not in the slightest. You tried,”

My voice breaks.

“So hard. You fought so hard, and I’m so proud of you. I just thought I should stop by before I leave. I brought you bodega flowers, and the chips you like. You don’t have to eat them.”

I clean his grave up a bit, grabbing dead flowers, deflated balloons, and any sort of unsightly thing off his grave. There are a few unlit prayer candles left, no doubt from Rio’s extensive visits, almost all of them being Saint Micheal. Jabbing my hands into all my pockets desperately, I pull out an almost-dead lighter to light the five remaining candles.

“May eternal rest be granted onto him,” I light the first candle, “let perpetual light be cast onto him,” the second, “for my faithful and departed soul, Miles” the third, “o lord” the fourth, “let his soul be at rest” the fifth, “and let him know that I love him.”

I wipe my eyes one final time, kiss my three middle fingers, and gently press them onto the cold and gray granite.

“Always good to see you, Cielito.”

I stare at his headstone one last time.

“I love you, Miles. You don’t have to say it back, mi amor.”

The only thing pushing me to go back home is the fact that I have a long drive ahead of me. I would stay curled next to his headstone for the rest of my life. It kills me to think that he’s alone down there, probably cold. During his funeral, I remember placing his headphones on his chest before the casket closed. His hands were ice cold, the makeup made a poor attempt at covering the small and delicate freckles that littered his cheeks. The finality of it is forever etched in my mind.

Somewhere, I hope he’s listening to music.

I climb back up my fire escape and tumble into my now-empty room. Sitting on the floor, I fold my knees to my chest and stare at the walls.

and there's nowhere in the world I’d rather be, than here in my room, dreaming about you and me.

fin <3

a/n: i didnt finish the get-down on Netflix, but zekes line where he confesses his love to mylene makes me cry every time, i had a really intense astronomy phase when i was little so i loved writing the galileo line it might show up in future fics idk. leave comments, constructive criticism and pointers!! and send reqs! love you goats 🩷

-rae

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potionpeddlerpatchy · 1 year

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Oh dear Patchy, I seem to be having a villain problem, one Shigaraki Tomura, to be exact. If it's not too much trouble, could you brew me up a little something to help?

(I adore your games and am practically vibrating to see everyone's potions!)

Hello dear traveler, I am so very excited to meet with you; I always love seeing new faces around here and providing them with all the potions their heart needs.

And I do very much thank you for your kind words, I do try hard to curate the best possible outcome for those that ask for my services, and I hope I am able to provide the same for you.

You knew you weren’t suppose to like him. Knew that, as a person of your status there were certain rules that pertained to you and how you could be associated with; and especially certain rules on who you may court and unltimately marry.

And a cobbler was certainly not one of them.

Especially one that worked within darkness and shadow, and though he was incredibly skilled, he was always covered in filth from the dyes and waxes he used. And yet Shigaraki Tomura was the one your heart gravitated to.

You didn’t see him as lowly or filthy, you just saw him as a man who was passionate about his work; and how that passion overtook the need for appearances. You would admit, however, that light, being within the warmth of the sun, would do him many favours; but you understood why he lived the way he lived. And you couldn’t help but constantly partake in his services.

Over and over again you would visit his little cart, buying shoes you had no need for just for the chance of a brief interaction with him, only for said shoes to be neatly tucked away within your wardrobe - to never be worn or see the light of day - for they were too pretty, and you wished not to wreak his craftsmenship.

That being said, you had no issue tearing, bending, snapping, and overall breaking those shoes you did own - ones made by other hands - just so you could have yet another excuse to ask for his assistance in repairing them; they always did end up looking better than before when crafted by his hands.

Though you cared little about status, or money, you knew that if you truly wished to follow your heart, you had to actually act on it; you could not just rely on spending your coin on his services and prendting it meant anything more any longer.

But the problem was, he never spoke to you. Only curt nods and hums in response to your greetings, questions, and gratitude. How were you suppose to follow your heart if you did not know if where you heart led to was one of promise?

You supposed that was the structure of what love was; that oft times you would have to go through heartache and rejection in order to find where it was meant to go. But rejection you could handle, it was the unknown due to his lack of proper interaction with you that left you stumped on what to do.

And, as a last resort, you went went to a peddler.

For desperate times called for despereate measure; and though you didn’t believe potions were anything more than coloured and oddly tasting liquid that truly didn’t do much, you were willing to believe and take a chance this once if it meant it could help you with your current struggle.

She bestowed to you a bright golden liquid, a flare of sun, with the promise that one touch would allow a person to see the brightness of the world around them; and what better way to make him speak the truths in his heart over that?

You had your doubts, of course you did. Words tied together in riddles always left your skeptical over if it was truly authenticious; but there was no harm in tyring. No harm in placing a few drops on yet another slipper whose heel you had purposefully broken for him to touch and fix.

Which you did, not waitied on baited breathe when you handed over the limp and lifeless shoe his way; eyes looking fondly, as they always had, when turned the slipper over and over and inspected it.

“I like when you visit” he mumbled, hands already beginning his work as he began delicately hammer small nails in place.

“Pardon?” You retorted, head shaking to break you out of any posible stupor you might have found yourself in - clearly not believing he was speaking to you.

“I like when you visit” He mumbled again, though more clearly “I like it when you’re around, I think your company is lovely.”

He finally looked up at you, briefly, but you still managed to catch his eye; and how bright they were. His ruby eyes, normally so dull and lifeless as they regarded you, were full of life and brighter than ever before - like a shimmer jewel. You coudln’t help but admit that perhaps the peddler was right, especially at his next words.

“I would love more of it, if possible.”

I do hope you kept some of that potion, it is always useful to garner truth out of people - should you want it. Though I will advise, and allow you to advise your new partner, avoid looking at bright lights for the next day or so - you might end up temporarily blind.

#i do hope you like this #sorry its shorter than the others #i am assuming these potions will be #i am exhausted #but nonetheless I hope this is what you are looking for!#🔮.the peddler answeres #🔮.traveler fuzz #🔮.the peddler's peculiar potion sale #shigaraki x reader

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mageofseven · 11 months

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Repressed Love: A DiaLuci Love Story

Chapter 20

Tag list: @astroseuss @zarakem @brielle043 @missloserqueen

•▪︎▪︎◇°●♡●°◇▪︎▪︎•

The family left the thrown room, guided out by Diavolo, who had his arm wrapped around his fiancé.

As they got deeper in the hallway, Satan lost his patience.

"Why didn't you do anything?" The blonde yelled at the prince. "You call yourself her father, but you let that man talk down to her, talk down to Lucifer!"

"Satan--"

The wrath demon ignored his father.

"They needed you. They needed you and you--"

"I did what I could in the moment." Dia tried to speak calmly to the young man, but Satan was having none of it.

"You could have told him to fuck off! That you're a grown ass man who can make his own decisions!"

"Satan--" Before the father could say anything, his son screamed in agony and gripped his head as he fell to his knees.

Lucifer quickly gave Audriana, who was also shrieking and crying from the experience, to his fiancé before collapsing to his knees and pulling Satan into his arms.

His son started to blur, just like at House of Lamentation. The pride demon held his son tight and kept calling his name as his form flicked back and forth

Till finally he passed out in his arms.

The father hung his head and tried to calm his breathing. His daughter's cries seemed so far away as he held his son in his arms.

Everything was falling apart. His son was sick and will eventually die. The king was threatening to take the love of his life away if he didn't find a way to produce a 'proper' heir. His daughter was being tortured by the issues he gave her and will lose both her brother and her other father.

How did things end up like this?

The Avatar of Pride had no clue how long he was on the floor with his son, just that at some point Diavolo had joined him, their daughter calmed and asleep in his arms.

"Lucifer..."

The dark haired man laid his head against the prince's shoulder.

"I'm losing everything..." He whispered.

The prince was at a loss for words. This situation was hard for him too and he was trying so hard to keep things from spiraling more than they already have.

All the prince could do is kneel with his fiancé and continue to hold their sleeping daughter as Lucifer held his son.

When the pride demon found the strength to rise to his feet, he started carrying his son down the hall. His children's rooms were right across from each other. Dia went right. Lucifer went left.

He laid his son on the bed and covered him up. The father laid his own head against the mattress and sobbed. He was going to lose everything if he doesn't act fast.

Eventually he felt arms wrapped around him from behind. He lifted his head and saw Dia behind him, chin resting on his shoulder and eyes closed.

The silence lingered, but the comfort he felt in his love's arms was irreplaceable.

"I will talk to my father." Dia finally spoke. "Surely, I can convince him--"

"Diavolo," Luce interrupted him. "You've told me too much about your father over the years for me to believe that would work."

"I know. I have to do something though--"

"You heard your father." The pride demon turned his body to face him. "It's me that needs to do something. I'm the problem--"

"He's the problem." The prince corrected his love. "Him and his old fashioned beliefs. I don't care about blood; Audriana is my daughter--our daughter. Nothing he says can convince me otherwise."

"But you won't be able to see her again if I don't fix this."

"How? Lucifer, we are both men; we can't have children together in the traditional sense."

"Then I can't be a man anymore; not physically at least."

"I can't let you do that--"

"What choice do we have, Diavolo?" Lucifer laid his hands on the man's chest. "At this point...only I can keep our family together. So please...make this easy for me."

The prince laid a hand on his fiancé's cheek.

"There could be side effects--"

"Then I'll handle them--"

"This is serious, my Light. Your mental state isn't the best as it is. To risk what is already fragile--"

"Is my decision." He insisted, staring deeply into his love's golden eyes. "Please."

Dia closed his eyes once more, looking pained.

"I'll have Barbatos make it and have it ready for tonight."

Luce wrapped his arms around the prince's neck and pressed his forehead to his.

"Thank you." He kissed Diavolo, breaking the man from whatever bad thoughts plagued his mind.

Lucifer was going to save his family one step at a time, no matter what.

Even if it means sacrificing his own body.

#obey me #obey me otome #obey me lucifer #obey me dialuci #obey me diavolo #dialuci fanfic

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krys-loves-otome · 2 years

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Fictober 2022: The Red Shawl

Prompt #6: "Adaptable, I like that." Fandom: Ikemen Revolution Rating: Teen Pairing: Jonah Clemence x Preg!Reader Summary: You have a new dress to wear to the Clemence family ball. There's just one small problem with it. Warnings: Pregnancy, fluff

Also on ao3!

My Fanfic Masterlist

-----

The dress that you had wanted to wear to the Clemence family ball that night, while beautiful with its light pink silks and printed roses throughout the skirt and bodice, it had one small flaw that had escaped both yours and Jonah's notice in the original fitting.

When completely buttoned up in the back, the fabric stretched around your abdomen in such a way that it made it much more obvious that the Queen of Hearts and his future wife simply couldn't wait until after their upcoming wedding to start their own family.

Granted, the change currently was minimal, just barely showing if you turned to the side, it was still noticeable enough that you didn't want to risk exposing your little secret just yet to your future in-laws, the relationship already tenuous at best without scandalous rumors.

Unfortunately, there was no time to buy a new dress that was less secret-revealing or to have this one altered so that your baby belly was less noticeable, so you were in a predicament. The thought did cross your mind to find one of your older dresses and wear one of them. However, they were also much tighter than you had remembered when you tried them on, the risk of exposing yourself much greater than with this pink silk gown.

With a sigh, you started unbuttoning the dress, noticing how it became looser around your abdomen, disguising the truth in the loosened folds while still looking proper and elegant.

Then, you noticed the red shawl that Jonah had given you as a present ages ago sitting on the back of a chair. Even from afar, it matched well with the red printed roses and the pink silk of your dress.

Flushing lightly at the sudden idea, you wrapped the shawl around your shoulders, making sure that your back was covered, and looked at yourself in the mirror, discovering that your belly was no longer largely evident, even with turning to the side and squinting. What would everyone think, if you were to go to a party with your dress only partially buttoned? What would Jonah think? You chuckled at the thought of potentially deceiving all of them.

"[Name]?" You heard a knock on the door. "I'm coming in."

Jonah walked inside, his boots clicking on the floor, looking quite handsome in his new white and pink suit. He smiled when he looked at you.

"I knew that dress would suit you," he said, coming to take a closer look. "It fits you like a dream."

He ran his hands over your sleeves and the red shawl, looking over you carefully.

"And you found that shawl I gave you last year. It's quite adaptable with all your outfits. I like that."

He circled you, looking over your little ensemble.

"No pinching or tightness anywhere?"

"Well… no, but…" You said trailing off, making him look up.

"What's wrong?" He asked, frowning, looking over you, "the shoulders? The length? Do you not like the pattern?"

"N-no, it's just.." you moved the shawl, exposing the unbuttoned buttons.

Jonah flushed pink and huffed.

"That's indecent, [Name]! Leaving your back exposed like that! But, it's an easy enough fix. Did you have trouble reaching these buttons?"

Jonah made quick work of fixing the dress before you could protest, his hands deft and quick. When he looked at you again, the silks were taut around your belly once more. Even the red shawl couldn't disguise it like before. You couldn't help but laugh when his eyes widened in realization.

"It.. doesn't leave much to the imagination, when it's fully buttoned."

"No, no it doesn't." He knelt down and placed his hands around your belly, shielding it from the world, a pout on his lips. "I thought it was perfect for you."

"Well, we didn't count on starting our family so soon either, or that they would grow so much so quickly." You placed your hands over Jonah's, letting your warmth seep into him.

"If only I could tell them," Jonah sighed. "A new member of the Clemence family right under their noses. But, I won't ruin your reputation like that."

"I'd be more worried about ruining yours, Jonah." You smiled. "They already don't like me as it is."

"And I'm deeply sorry for that, [Name]. If only they could see how wonderful you are, how I see you."

"Even the me that planned on going to the party with a few buttons undone?"

Jonah raised an eyebrow, frowning.

"If only there was more time. Add in another seam, more silk."

"It's okay," you reassured him. "As long as I wear the shawl, no one will even notice."

Jonah grumbled, muttering how it still felt indecent. Even so, he reached around you easily, unbuttoning the few it took to loosen the garment, hiding your shared secret once again. Only when he placed his hand on your stomach once again would anyone suspect anything.

"I can only imagine the spectacle that would happen at our wedding, with you much further along."

"We can always have the wedding after they're born. It's only going to get harder to hide the longer we wait."

"With the way you're progressing now, it might be our only option." Jonah stood up, fixing your shawl, sighing again. "By the crimson flowing through my veins, I'd marry you this very moment if you'd have me."

"Family obligations first, my Queen," you say, bumping noses with him. "Gotta prove that I haven't made you into a complete heathen yet."

"Au contraire, future Lady Clemence," Jonah bumped your nose back, "I take pride in having made a hedonist of you."

"You, make a hedonist of me?" You laughed.

"You're the one wearing an unbuttoned dress around my aunts and uncles."

"You're the reason I have to wear a dress unbuttoned around your aunts and uncles!"

Jonah flushed pink, pouted, and looked away. You chuckled and kissed his cheek.

"C'mon, let's pretend to be noble and proper for a few hours, then we can get back to our life of debauchery."

"I couldn't ask for a better time." Jonah smiled, putting his arm around your waist, offering a quiet extra layer of protection for your scandalously hidden back.

#fictober22 #fictober #fictober 2022 #krys's adventures in fanfiction #ikemen revolution #jonah clemence #cw: pregnancy #lil unsure about his one #specifically if I did jonah justice #but oh well #it's out now #day late but who cares #it's cute and a lil fun #and who can ask for more than that

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much-obliged-timothy · 2 years

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Devil May Cry: Surrounded By Fate Part 1

Part 1 of a 2 part AU in which Vergil finds and raises baby Nero (find part 2 here)! I finished my replay of DMC 5 and have so many feels about this family so I’m just going to keep throwing AUs about them at the internet to cope

Escaping the demonic world was a massive undertaking, and Vergil was surprised he succeeded at all.

But it left him weak. Too weak to risk a fight. He couldn’t let anyone - especially Dante - find out he’d escaped until he’d recovered. He was not a fool; he knew that could take months, likely even years.

He had only been trying to seek refuge in Fortuna. He had not expected to discover the child.

His child.

The boy was an orphan, being raised by the Order. It wasn’t just the boy’s appearance that gave it away, nor was it the frantic math Vergil did in his head when he realized the boy’s age.

It was the pull. Like something was tying them together- like the blood of Sparda himself called to its kin.

Vergil made inquiries. The child had been left in Fortuna as a baby. The timeline matched Vergil’s mental math.

He did not know what drove him to do it, but he claimed the child.

Foolish. It was damned foolish of him. He was too weak to reliably protect himself, much less a child. And for as old as he felt, he was young. He’d lost track of time, but once he discovered the date, he realized he’d turned twenty in the time it took him to escape.

He decided to stay in Fortuna. The Knights protected the city from demon attacks, and the place was isolated. It was a good spot for him to rest with little chance of detection. There was no reason for Dante to come sniffing around here, which is what cemented Vergil’s decision to stay.

He investigated Fortuna thoroughly before deciding to hide in plain sight. In his weakened state, the citizens took pity on him. He despised pity, but it meant they were not suspicious of him. They thought he was just a sickly young man putting his faith in Sparda like the rest of them.

The child was a problem.

“Nero” was the boy’s name. When Vergil was too weak to get out of bed, he’d use the time to research childcare. He suspected Nero had not received proper handling as an orphan. He regularly cried when he was left in a dark room to sleep, long, piercing wails. Vergil used his good days to set up a nursery and experiment with night lights until he found one that seemed to keep the child from panic at night.

He also seemed to be touch-starved.

Vergil always held the baby awkwardly in his arms. He didn’t quite know what to do with such a small, fragile being. He’d built himself for destruction, not affection.

But Nero would always grab tiny fistfuls of Vergil’s shirt and snuggle against him. Nero slept best when he was cradled against Vergil’s chest. Most days Vergil was too tired to fight it.

And, admittedly, having the problem of the child around meant Vergil had something to focus his nightmare-addled mind on. He spent much time researching how to raise a child, used his good days to slowly but surely fix up a proper nursery for the boy, and found much of his time eaten up by looking after the child.

He read to Nero regularly. Vergil enjoyed poetry, so when he read it for himself, he decided to just read it aloud for Nero, too. Nero was too young to understand the words, but he always looked fascinated by the rhythmic sound of his father’s voice. He’d promptly stick his thumb in his mouth and gaze wide-eyed and soothed at Vergil as he read.

When Nero learned how to walk, Vergil found himself with a whole new set of problems.

He’d never expected just how much mischief a toddler could get into. Nero was a grabby child, quick to get his hands on anything left unattended. This once included a sword Vergil had stolen from the Order for protection.

Vergil found the boy playing with the sword, too weak to lift it but seeming to entertain himself by tilting it back and forth. His chubby little legs had been dangerously close to the blade of the sword.

Vergil found that he still could move at dizzying speed.

He’d found himself with a whining toddler in one arm and a sword in the other. The next day, he’d promptly gotten a lock for his closet and stashed the sword in there.

He felt his strength coming back to him, but it was frustrating to have been knocked down so much from his previous power. Some days he woke and found he could not move much without becoming overwhelmingly fatigued. It was on one such day that he discovered he did, in fact, love his son.

Vergil had been sitting on the couch reading when he fell asleep, exhausted after embarrassingly little housework. When he woke up, it was dark in the house, and he’d realized he’d fallen asleep for several hours and left the toddler unattended.

He’d sat up so fast it made him dizzy. A blanket he was positive he’d not had when he fell asleep slipped off his lap.

But there was little Nero, indulging himself with a juicebox. He’d managed to poke the straw through the back on his first attempt and spilled a significant amount on the floor. Vergil found he was grateful that a juice stain seemed to be the only damage Nero had managed after several hours with no adult supervision.

Nero noticed him awake and picked his head up. “Da sleepy?”

“Yes,” Vergil said, rubbing his eyes and settling back against the couch. “What did you do while I was sleeping?”

“Play,” Nero said. He held a finger to his lips and made a shushing sound. “Play shhh! Da sleepin’.”

Indeed, Nero had a few stuffed animals before him instead of his usual blocks and hard toys. Vergil was surprised he’d been considerate enough to play quietly when Vergil was sleeping.

Nero sipped on his juice box. Vergil felt overwhelmed at the realization he hadn’t fed the boy since early this morning. The kid must be starving, but Vergil didn’t know if he had the strength to get to the kitchen and make something for him.

“Is there…” Vergil struggled to recall what groceries he’d gotten the other day. “Bread?”

Nero nodded, his hair flopping onto his forehead as he did so. It was getting too long. Vergil needed to cut it soon, which added to the overwhelming feeling. Such simple tasks; it infuriated him that he faltered at the idea of trying to perform them.

“Eat that,” Vergil said. It was not very responsible parenting, but the child wouldn’t wither away from starvation if he went one day without a proper lunch or dinner.

“Toast?” Nero said.

“No,” Vergil said firmly. “Don’t touch the toaster. Just bread, Nero.”

Nero pulled the juice box away so he could put a finger to his lip, like he always did when he had a question. Vergil felt it was becoming a common sight. The boy seemed to question everything.

“Da hungry?” he asked.

“No,” Vergil said.

“I make Da toast?” Nero said.

“No,” Vergil repeated. “Do not touch the toaster.”

Nero got up, wobbling a little as he tried to get his balance. Vergil wondered if he had been so uncoordinated as a child.

Nero waddled over to the couch, pulling himself up onto it and managing to spill a little more juice in the process. Vergil was too tired to care.

Nero had tucked his favorite stuffed dog under his arm. He set it carefully on the couch before pulling himself onto Vergil’s lap and reaching up with his free hand, pressing it to Vergil’s forehead and furrowing his brow in concentration.

Vergil was surprised. He’d done the same to Nero last month when the boy developed a bad cough and fatigue. He’d told Nero he’d been checking for a fever. He found it hard to believe a child with the attention span of a goldfish had actually remembered the motion.

“Da…sick?” Nero said hesitantly.

“Something like that, yes,” Vergil said, pulling Nero’s hand away. “I am fine, Nero. Go eat.”

Nero grabbed his stuffed dog and tucked it carefully against Vergil’s side. He messily pulled the blanket back over Vergil.

“Better?” he asked.

Vergil didn’t know why he had to clear his throat before he spoke. “Thank you. Go eat.”

Nero shifted and Vergil took the dog, holding it out. Nero stared at it longingly. He couldn’t sleep without the damn thing.

“Nero, take it. It’s your toy,” Vergil said.

Nero shook his head stubbornly, despite that longing look. “Nu-uh. He make Da feel better.” Nero pushed the dog back at Vergil. “Keep him! Feel better!”

Vergil tightened his hold on the toy. “You don’t have to let me keep him. Not if you want him.”

“Sick,” Nero said, pointing a stern finger at Vergil. “He help!”

Vergil could not identify what he was feeling. Instead, he focused on Nero’s lackluster, broken vocabulary and decided it was something they needed to work on. He was capable of better speech; the boy was a damn parrot, quick to repeat anything he heard but seemingly refusing to hold a real conversation when he could clip his sentences.

“Go eat,” Vergil said again. He felt strange the longer Nero stayed here.

“M’kay.” Nero looked down at his juice box, frowning sadly. He held it out to Vergil. “Da drink? Feel better?”

Why…? Nero loved his stuffed dog and his juice boxes. Why would a child with little sense of sharing give them to Vergil? Vergil could only stare at him.

Nero pushed the juice box into Vergil’s hand. He hopped off the couch and waddled to the kitchen. Vergil listened to the sounds of a toddler making a mess in his attempt to get a few slices of bread.

He was even more surprised when Nero returned with a slice clutched in each little hand. He stared up at the couch, then to his full hands. He looked at Vergil expectantly.

Vergil lifted him onto the couch. Nero settled himself in Vergil’s lap and held the bread out.

“Here,” he said.

“I’m not hungry,” Vergil said. “I told you I wasn’t.”

Nero kept holding the bread out. Vergil took it from him and set it on the coffee table.

“I’ll eat it later,” he said, to please the boy. It seemed to work.

Nero ate his bread. He yawned and stretched, getting onto his knees and crawling up to Vergil’s chest.

He paused, then stood up and pressed a kiss to Vergil’s head before curling back into his chest. He rested his head over Vergil’s heart, seeming soothed by the sound of its steady beating.

“Night, Da. I love you,” he said sleepily before drifting off.

Vergil had no words. He put his arm around Nero securely. He was amazed to discover he returned the sentiment.

He loved Nero. He loved his son.

***

As Nero grew older, Vergil trained him. While Vergil was too weak to keep at it some days, he always made Nero practice. Nero found it fun, if not frustrating at times.

Vergil sent him off to school with other kids, realizing that Nero had been largely isolated with Vergil most of his short life. It was unsurprising to discover that Nero did not know how to interact with others very well, and quickly became an outcast.

He did make a friend though, a little girl named Kyrie. Her parents, once they realized Nero was the son of the sickly young man that kept to himself in town, looked after Nero on Vergil’s bad days. They had a son as well, a boy named Credo. Nero became incredibly close with the family.

Vergil would never admit it out loud, but he was relieved at the help with Nero. While his strength was steadily coming back to him, he still had days where the exhaustion left him bedridden and unable to look after his son. Any day Nero showed up alone to school, Kyrie insisted on Nero coming home with her after, as she’d learned that Vergil only failed to walk Nero to school if he was too sick to do it.

Being around others heightened Nero’s curiosity. He even began to ask about family.

“It’s just us, Nero,” Vergil told him. “Just you and me.”

It hadn’t been the answer Nero wanted to hear, but he hugged Vergil anyway. Vergil was constantly amazed by how much love the little boy had for him.

Vergil had his own lessons for Nero at home, feeling an education from Fortuna was not exactly the best his son could receive. While Vergil had limited formal education himself, he was self-taught and transferred that knowledge on to his son. They trained and had home lessons and just…lived.

They lived. Vergil had never imagined himself with any kind of domestic life.

But his goal for power shifted. He’d longed to be protected and learned to protect himself when no one came to aid him as a child. Now he had a child, and his need for power shifted to merge his goal with his experience of fatherhood; he wanted to be strong enough to protect Nero from anything.

He loved his boy. For as frustrated and overwhelmed as fatherhood left him, Vergil loved his boy.

He was unsurprised when the Order sought to make Nero one of their Knights. Vergil consented to the training because Nero wanted to do it. He still continued his own training with the child.

It was when Nero was eight, the same age Vergil had been when everything in his life fell apart, that they found themselves training in the forest.

Vergil struck his sword against Nero’s with too much force, still occasionally forgetting that Nero was more human than demon. Nero went flying back from the force of the blow, his sword spinning out of his hands and sticking in the ground.

“Dad,” Nero huffed, looking at his raw hands.

Vergil grabbed the sword out of the ground and instead leaned it against a tree. “You should’ve said something.”

“I trained with the Order today,” Nero said, sitting on the ground and collapsing on his back, arms sprawled. “My hands hurt. Can we take a minute?”

“You’ve done enough training for today,” Vergil said, sitting next to Nero and examining his hands. He put pressure on Nero’s palm, and Nero yelped.

“Ow! That fuckin’ hurts!” Nero whined, jerking his hand away.

“Language,” Vergil snarled.

“Oh. Oops,” Nero said. “I forgot again.”

Still ever the obnoxious parrot, Nero seemed to have adapted to pick up and repeat any bad language he heard. It was becoming quite common now that he was training with adults in the Order. Vergil despised the foul, inelegant language.

Nero shifted so that he could drop his head in Vergil’s lap. Vergil brushed Nero’s hair off his forehead.

“Dad?” Nero said.

“Hm?” Vergil said, back to examining Nero’s injured hands.

“What was your mom like?” he asked.

The question caught Vergil off-guard. “She-”

She left me. She left me to fend for myself when I was just your age, because she loved my brother more than me. I was so scared and I cried out for her, and she never came for me.

Nero sat up, looking worried. “I’m sorry, dad. Forget I asked.”

Vergil couldn’t imagine what expression was on his face for Nero to react like that. Vergil only put a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

Vergil drew Nero into his side, putting his arm around his boy. The idea of Nero scared and crying out for him tore at Vergil’s heart.

Nero rested his head on Vergil’s shoulder and put his arms around him. “I love you dad.”

Vergil rested his cheek against Nero’s hair and closed his eyes. His parents were gone. His brother was gone, in any way it mattered anymore.

But he was not alone anymore. He had a purpose again, a true reason to get strong. He had something to fight for, and fighting was all he’d ever been good at. He was no longer fighting his way through this world unloved and unwanted.

“I love you too, Nero,” Vergil said.

Vergil was not a perfect man, and certainly not a perfect father. He’d gotten more wrong than right when it came to raising Nero.

But he would not make his boy live the same childhood Vergil had. Vergil would always come to Nero’s aid when he was scared and crying out for help. He would do whatever it took to protect Nero and their quiet life in Fortuna.

And for years, he kept that silent promise.

And then Dante unraveled Vergil’s world once more.

#devil may cry #Vergil Sparda #Nero Sparda #dmc vergil #dmc nero #dadgil #DMC #devil may cry fanfiction #dmc fanfiction #DMC AU #dmc surrounded by fate #My writing

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