#maybe my luck has run out from so many times I have made risky decisions regarding my academic life.

[dxdx]

It's amazing how in every groupal project the worst or longer part ends up going to me 🤡 (we raffle the parts lol)

Jupiter in the 9th, I trusted you but you let me down

( my jupiter in the 9th saying "haha bye bitch" and leaving me there just hanging-)

#do your fucking work #extra points of disapointment cause your not only in the 9th #YOU'RE IN A GOOD SIGN FOR IT AND ABOVE EVERYTHING YOU'RE MY CHART RULER #where's the luck you're supposed to give with highest studies 🤡 #WHERE #maybe my luck has run out from so many times I have made risky decisions regarding my academic life. #and those risky decisions turned out well instead of going wrong #crAshInG #hIT a WaLL #rIGHt nOw I need a MirACLe #i NEED YOU I NEED YOU I NEED YOU RIGHT NOW #yEAH I need you right now #so don't let me don't let me don't let me dOWn #it's IN mY hEAd #darLiNg i hOpE #thAT yoU'll bE hEre wheN I nEeD yOu thE mOsT #ok enough chainsmokers for today

[the-silentium]

Quits

Masterlist

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Words: 2200 words

Warnings: TUA season 1 and 2 spoilers, violence, blood, swearing.

Requested by: Anon!

Hi!! Can i get a five x reader where the reader gets shot or stabbed or something but doesnt tell anyone and ends up passing out? Thanks!!

A/N: I’m back at my requests! Thank you Anon for this sweet lil’ idea and I hope it lives up to your expectations as it does with mine  ❤ Requests are still open!

You remember a time when you took pride in your capacity to make the right choice at the right time. When school asked you what you wanted to do in life, you chose the right one from the start unlike the majority of your friends who had to change classes multiple times and were now a happy veterinarian. When life put on your path the incarnation of your perfect partner, you decided to take it slow to see where it went. Fortunately for you, you quickly saw through his facade and kicked him out before he could create more permanent damage to your heart. 

Your life was full of important decisions that were though at the time. Sometimes you had to take some days to think about it when other times it took you hours. They were all risky shots that could end up badly for you in the end so you liked to take your time to think about it. 

This is why when Five Hargreeves, your childhood closest friend, knocked at your door one day and asked for your help to stop the fast-arriving apocalypse, you didn't think twice and immediately accepted. How could you make the bad choice by helping him save the world? If he failed you would die, he would die, everyone would die and this is obviously the bad end of the story, right?

Well, as of right now, you were starting to doubt it. After failing to stop 2019's apocalypse and after Five had time-traveled every living Hargreeves plus yourself in the 1960s, you found yourself in two precarious situations: one, you were back in your 13-year-old self and two, you were not fighting two crazy hard-ass Commissioners, but three crazy hard-ass IKEA mafioso! 

It was a miracle that you survived the raid on the Hargreeves Mansion unscathed. You had thanked your luck for allowing you to live another day, although you regret ever doing so. Clearly, you had jinxed yourself, for surviving the Swedes ambush at the Mexican consulate wasn't as painless as the raid. 

A very well-sharpened knife had managed to pierce your skin, getting in your abdomen all the way to the hilt before you managed to kick the white-haired man down a nice flight of stairs. Your medical instinct pushed you to hastily insert some absorbent tissue into your wound to control the bleed and allow you to check it later. 

Sadly, one thing led to another and you were now sitting with all six Hargreeves who were currently trying to formulate a plan of some sort while Diego was focussed on his JFK conspiracy and you were literally bleeding out. 

The once pristine washcloth you had stolen in the kitchen was completely soaked, staining your blue shirt with dark red spots. Speaking of spots, hundreds of tiny black ones were now dancing in your line of sight like dark fireflies. 

"Has anyone here done anything to screw up the timeline?" 

You lifted your hand hoping to get the attention of the others, obviously working when Luther asked what you'd done. 

"Anything yet, but would it screw the timeline if I died here?" 

You saw Five frowns in confusion, his mouth opening on a question before yelling your name when you couldn't hold yourself up anymore and fell to the ground. Strong arms lifted you from the floor and you landed on a comfy cloud. You smiled in contentment, it has been a while since you had a proper night of sleep. This cloud will be perfect for a nap. 

Tiny slaps on your left cheek forced your eyes to open and meet a concerned blue gaze. 

"So pretty." You mumbled, still focussing on the blue eyes frantically scanning your face. 

Oh did I mentioned earlier that you had a crush on Five? Because you do and it is not small if after 15 years your heart still accelerates when you merely meet his gaze. 

"Don't sleep okay? Keep your eyes open!" You laughed at his command, it is the same thing you told him the day he lost consciousness at Leonard's cabin. You had a snarky remark at the tip of your tongue but it died on your lips when darkness forced its way upon you. 

………………………

Even before your mind was operational enough to create thoughts, your brain was already running full speed and relentlessly reminded you that your abdomen was on fire. The pain was a great ally into your mission to wake up and open your eyes. Maybe you would be able to ask for some painkillers. 

The harsh neon light shining over your head made you tear up the second your eyes opened to assess your environment. You tried again, slower this time, and found yourself confused by your surroundings. 

Many times in your childhood you had passed time in this room, planning pranks, doing homework, reading, or just hanging out. Nothing had changed excepted the walls that were now covered in equations and names. 

Groggily, you attempted to seat up, your abdominal muscles screamed in agony at your movements forcing you to stay on your back. The groan that erupted from your throat alarmed a passer-by who raced to the door, opening it so fast that it collided with the wall. 

"She's awake!" Klaus shouted in the corridor when he saw your wide-open eyes. He only had time to put a foot into the bedroom that a blue light appeared out of nowhere announcing Five's arrival. Your heart was beating too quickly by the time Five had pushed Klaus out of his room and slammed the door shut behind him. 

“What were you thinking?!” Five's anger caused you to frown. What did you do? You searched your mind for an answer and quickly found one in the vivid memory of a knife diving into your flesh. 

You opened your mouth to talk your mind but nothing came out of the desert that was your throat. Noticing your problem, Five caught a water bottle from his nightstand, cautiously brought it to your lips, and let you drink small sips of the freshwater. Satisfied, you coughed once to prepare your throat. 

“Now you know how it felt so we are quits.” You answered, referring to the time in Leonard’s cabin where you felt like the world had stopped when Five lost consciousness. You took care of him as best as you could despite your field of expertise being animals you had a basic understanding of the human anatomy, so with your trembling hands covered in his blood while desperately trying to not notice how much there was, you worked as effectively as you could to keep the love of your life alive. 

"This is not a game! You could have died!" You would have believed his angry eyes if only his hands weren't shaking so much. You were friend with Five for long enough to know how to read his temper and now, he was scared. 

"But I didn't." You tried to calm him down with your calm voice. You remember jumping at his neck the second he woke up that time he passed out, why couldn't he do the same instead of yelling at you? 

You watched him open his mouth a couple of times before closing it, clearly thinking through what he was going to say. When he finally chose, his voice was barely audible. "Selfish." 

You blinked in confusion at his statement. "Me? Selfish?" With each word now, your voice was raising until you reached the point where you were yelling at the blue-eyed 30 years old man. "Everything I did was to save the damn world from the apocalypse and you call me selfish?! I took a fucking knife to the gut and dealt with it for the sake of the world and you call me self-" 

"I wasn't talking about you." Now this stopped you good. You frowned in confusion, not seeing where he was going. "I was talking about me." 

Your head tilted to the side, searching your brain as to why Five would call himself selfish. All he did was for his family, he never acted for himself, so why?

"I almost let everything down to make sure you made it back alive. I almost let the world end for you because I can't imagine living another 45 years where you're not there." His words were soft, a tone that you weren't aware was used exclusively around you. His gaze fled yours, switching between the scribbles on the walls and the foot of the bed. 

Color rushed to your face for his words definitely sounded like a confession to your ears. Your childhood self had waited for so long to hear something of the type, so long that you thought the friendzone was the ultimate area that you would be welcome in. You accepted that your feelings were strong enough to be pleased by his happiness even with someone else. 

A smile formed on your lips causing Five's heart to miss a beat in its rhythmic pumping. "I-"

"Guys they are doing it!" Klaus' loud voice on the other side of the door cut you off. 

"Doing what?" Allison had joined her brother at the door, confused of his antics. 

"Admitting their undying love for each other!" At this point Five had opened the door swiftly, his murderous gaze fell on his siblings, daring them to say something more. It was at this moment that Klaus realized how scary his brother was in reality, he wasn't the little Number Five anymore, but a grown-up man who could easily murder him in a thousand ways possible. 

"Oh heck no!" The words fell off your mouth against your will, the embarrassing situation making you nervous so your brain tried to defuse the situation by stating the opposite of what Klaus wanted. From your point of view, you totally missed the way Five's eyes lost their deadly rage, instead showing his pain at your words. He was quick to hide his feelings once more, but his siblings had enough time to acknowledge his true emotion. 

Slapping Klaus behind the head, Allison got a hold of his shirt and pulled him away to let the two of you clear this out. Everyone knew you two were pinning each other when you were younger. Even when fighting the two apocalypses! It was clear as day for the rest of the family, however, it wasn't the case for the both of you. 

The door slammed back in place once more making you jump and hiss in pain when your abdominal muscles contracted. In your field of vision, you noted that Five had tensed before closing his hands in tight fists and made his way to his desk, the only place in the room you couldn't see because of your incapacity to turn around. 

You knew what you said must have hurt him, it clearly seemed like you had rejected him. Stupid defense method. 

"Five?" No answer was given, his heavy breathing being the only sound resonating in the room. "I didn't mean that." A scoff fell off his lips. 

"You think I'll believe that?" The venom in his voice told you just how much you had hurt him, squeezing your heart in shame. 

"When you disappeared 15 years ago I developed a system to protect myself from new heartbreaks. It hurt way less to force myself to believe that my feelings for you were nonexistent than acknowledge them and continue living without you, Five." Water appeared in your eyes, pooled down your cheeks, and soaked your new shirt. "I was so used to deny my feelings that-" Your voice broke when a sob forced its way out of you. 

Hands found your cheeks, drying the wet trails before pulling you into a firm chest. You managed to slip your hands around his waist and cried for as long as needed. The exhaustion of the last endless days caught up to you along with the fact that the subject of your love was very well alive and here to stay, fueling the flow of tears falling down your eyes. 

"I really didn't mean it." You managed to croak out between sobs. 

One of Five's hand went to your hair, stroking your head tenderly. "I know." Your grip onto his shirt tightened when a kiss landed on the top of your head. 

Slowly, he pulled away to lay you back down onto his bed and snuggled to your side when your anxious eyes found his. One of his arms went under your head while the other took care to not accidentally touch the general area surrounding your wound when snaking around your waist to keep you as close to him as possible. 

His body heat was very much welcome, you snuggled your way into the crook of his neck in search of comfort. 

"Rest. I'll be there when you wake up." He whispered into your hair when his button-down crumpled in your hands. 

You sighed, allowing yourself to relax in his embrace. "I love you Five." You had to get it out before you let yourself fall asleep for you were scared that later would be too late. 

"I love you too." Delicate patterns were traced by his skilled fingers onto the bare skin of your waist making you shiver. Your heartbeat accelerated at his chuckle before stabilizing when you fell into a peaceful slumber.

#five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #number five #the boy #tua s1 #tua s2 #the umbrella academy #my fic #the swedes #fluff

[marvinswriting]

trapped

ANOTHER BORROWER JANIS FIC? A N D IT'S LONG (ish)? wow.

Trusting Damian was probably the best decision of my life. Not that I've had to make many life-changing decisions. 

It didn't take long for Gretchen and Kevin to find out that I've been caught. It took them even less time to want to meet Damian for themselves. 

Even though they all knew each other now, I was still the only one visiting Damian often. Gretchen was still slightly scared and Kevin just couldn't be bothered. I mean, fair.

We (It was really just me) had made a new path through the house right to Damian's room but I was the only one to use it often. It leads behind an outlet abnormally high in the wall where Damian's desk was. He used to use it to plug in lights (as you would and outlet) but now it sits there without screws. 

But that's not where I was right now. I was sitting in the combined living space next to Gretchen. "I saw it, I swear."

She was whining about a mouse which, to be fair- was scary, but it wasn't near us right now so why carry on like this. 

"Ariel will get it, I'm sure."

"Janis," I don't think I've ever seen Gretchen this stressed. "It was so close to our house! We live in a pocket of room between beams of wood! It could be on the other side right now."

"But at least it's not on this side."

"Maybe not now but it clearly was." Kevin says walking into the room holding what used to be a bag full of granola.

I curse under my breath, taking the bag from him. "All of it?"

"And the rest of our food."

"Kevin, that was our stash for the week!"

"Do I look like a mouse? Why are you yelling at me?!"

Sometimes our dysfunctional family arguments got so loud I'm surprised we didn't get caught.

I run my hand down my face. It's still early, maybe six pm. We don't even think of borrowing until past midnight. 

"What are we gonna do?" Gretchen asks. She sounds like she might cry.

"I'll go get Damian." I say. We don't ask for his help often. Ever since that night, he just leaves out granola chunks once a week and I visit just to talk and hang out with somebody other than my roommates. But he did say whenever he needed help to get him, so-

"You can't go that way!" Gretchen hissed as I went to shift the block of wood we use as a makeshift door. 

"And why not?"

"Janis, are you stupid?" Kevin deadpans. "Gretchen saw the fucking mouse over there."

Oh right. Maybe I am stupid. 

Huh.

"Well, I can't just walk through the house."

"We can go borrowing on our own," Gretchen says. "You've gone soft and dependent, Janis. Damian won't always be there. What happens when we have to move, or he moves out? You're losing your skills. Look-" Gretchen throws a thimble at me- and hard.

"Ow!" I whine as it bounces off my shoulder.

"Janis four months ago would have caught that." Gretchen shakes her head, earning a murmur of agreement from Kevin.

"Okay, I'm shitty. Sure. Whats you're point?"

"We don't need Damian to borrow. We're borrowers. It's in our name." 

"Fine," I say, shoving borrowing tools into my bag. I get Gretchen's point. I also know she and Kevin don't trust Damian. But I don't see an issue with asking for help- at least not anymore. Maybe Gretchen was right, now I'm soft and dependent, but at least I've got a friend. Other then roommates that bully each other.

"Are we going now? It's still early." I ask.

"I'll do a quick lookout," Kevin says before disappearing. 

Gretchen and I stand in silence for a bit. 

"I'm sorry for yelling." She says quietly. We never apologize. I guess I'm not the only one soft. "After that night with the cat, when you met Damian- I thought you were dead. And yeah, none of us are friends but you're still my roommates. You're the closest thing to family a borrower is gonna get. And I just want to see you safe. The bond you've formed with that human- it's not it."

I scowl. "Sweet sentiment, Gretchen, but you don't know what you're talking about. You want to see me safe, well Damian is the only reason I am here and I am safe. You don't trust him but you also never put in the effort to try."

"All I'm saying is from an outside perspective, this is a sure way to get yourself killed."

"Anything we do we can get killed!" And we're yelling again. "Fall off a table, run into the cat, get caught by a human-"

"Yeah! Get caught by a human! You said it yourself, Janis!"

I cross my arms. "That's different."

"How so?"

"He isn't gonna kill me!"

"Intentionally."

I freeze, meeting Gretchen's eyes. She shrugs, seemingly happy her point got across.

I never thought of it. Damian and I had both been so careful around each other. It's never a thought that even entered my mind.

And I won't let it now.

I shake my head, regaining my composure and glaring at Gretchen. 

"You're wrong."

"Am I?"

"Yes." I'm determined to stand my ground and not let Gretchen in my head again. "Damian is careful, he isn't reckless. He sees me and another living creature, nothing less than."

Gretchen shrugs as Kevin walks back into the room. "You're funeral. I won't attend."

"Woah." Kevin holds his hands up. "What did I just witness?"

"I'm officially dead to Gretchen, I guess."

"Cmon guys." Kevin seems genuinely saddened by this normal occurrence. I'm cut out of Gretchen's life every other week. 

"No! I won't 'come on guys'! When Damian decides he bored with keeping Janis around and exposes all of us we all have to pay for her reckless behavior!"

"Damian wouldn't do that." I put my hands on my hips.

"Would he not? You're not even four inches tall. You think you have some big impact on his life? Your friendship isn't mutual! Unlike you, Damian probably has a life outside these walls! He doesn't care about you!" Gretchen's voice gets softer as her anger dies. "And I'm sorry the only way I could get that through to you was by yelling. I know its hard for you. But-"

"No."

"What?" Gretchen takes a step back at my cold attitude. Tears are burning in the corners of my eyes, but I refuse to let them spill. Kevin seems mildly annoyed at most. He looks like he could use some popcorn. 

"You don't know what you are talking about. You never put in the time to meet him and-"

"Janis do you hear yourself?! You've got the same two arguments. You don't know him, he isn't like that. How can you not see this only ends up with you hurt?! Emotionally or physically!"

Call me immature, but I don't want to hear anymore. So I walk away. I duck into my room, Gretchen calling after me. 

We still have a couple more hours until we need to borrow anyway. 

"Janis."

"Go away, Kevin."

"Gretchen is just looking out for you."

"She's doing a shit job at it." I look in my mirror past me to see Kevin hovering in my doorway.  He didn't seem to have more to say, so instead, he changed the topic.

"The Hubbards aren't home. We're thinking of doing a quick trip before they get back."

"Do we know when they get back?"

"No."

"Then that's too risky."

"You don't get to talk about risky, Janis."

I shrug. "All I'm saying is we can go four hours without food."

"Janis."

"Fine!" I throw my hands up in defeat. "I don't know what you two gain from a death mission or what point you're trying to prove, but let's just go get fucking food."

Kevin smiles, but it's forced. He isn't happy, he's just relieved he got his way without too much of a fight.

We don't take our normal route this time. We have to go the long way to avoid the mouse that attacked Gretchen. This route requires us to climb up and it leads out to the counter and its probably my least favorite course. 

I curse as I lose my footing on a nail and almost fall. 

"Jesus, Janis." Gretchen says from above me, but she seems more concerned than annoyed. 

"Yeah yeah." I mumble, regaining my composure and continuing to climb. 

We all make it to the entrance (without falling). Kevin goes out first to do a quick lookout and Gretchen and I stay back in silence. 

This entrance is also a broken outlet, but unlike Damian's, there was still power going through it, so pushing it open was always a dangerous task. 

"All clear." Kevin waves us out. "Ariel is on the sofa."

From the kitchen table, you can see the front door which leads into the living room. And sure enough, Ariel is asleep contently. 

There's a lot of things on the kitchen counter, none of it is food. A napkin holder is blocking my view of the front door, and there are a couple of cups scattered around as well as papers or any random object put down. 

There's a gap in between two counter tiles, maybe the size of my foot. It's an easy step across, but we have to be careful not to drop any of our tools down there. We'd never get them back.

"There's no food." Gretchen deadpans. 

"Really." I roll my eyes. After what my roommates said, I was feeling less and less sure that I should ask Damian for help. It made me feel guilty because deep down, I knew they were wrong. But- what if they weren't? 

Unlike you, Damian probably has a life outside these walls!

It'd be shitty luck, but pretty par to how my life generally goes. My pity party is interrupted by the sound of the front door opening. 

Shit.

We all collectively freeze as the sounds of voices fill the building.

"Guys!" Kevin the first to snap out of it as he pulls back the outlet, holding it for us. I nod and begin speed walking over when I hear a cry from behind me. 

I whirl around to see-

Gretchen's got her foot stuck in the crack.

Of course.

The voices are closer, and I'm right in the middle of the outlet or Gretchen. My mind momentarily flashes back to when Gretchen left me with the cat but we meet eyes and all bad morals disappear. 

She's crying and I can tell it's from both pain and fear.

I rush towards her, ignoring the cries of protest from Kevin.

My mind is in overdrive, picking up every noise while simultaneously blocking it all out. 

I can hear Damian and his dad, their voices clearly heading towards the kitchen, but my mind has tunnel vision, focusing on Gretchen.

Gretchen reaches out to me like a lost child. I grab her forearms and she does the same, and I lean backwards with all my weight. Gretchen cries out in pain but her foot doesn't move.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I look up momentarily and freeze upon seeing Damian enter the kitchen with his dad behind him. 

We're too late.

We're done for.

Fuck.

"Janis." Gretchen whimpers.

"I'm trying."

I bend down and grab Grechen's ankle, trying to lift her foot out from the source. I can tell she's trying to stay still and quiet, maybe they won't notice-

A shadow falls over us, and I freeze.

Fuck.

I don't even want to look up.

Fuck.

If its Damian, then that's embarrassing.

If it's his dad, then we're dead.

I glance up-

Damian is standing with his back to us, leaning against the counter talking to his dad.

He's blocking us from the view.

I could break down and cry in relief, but we've still got a problem. Upon seeing it’s sort of safe, Kevin rushes over to help. He lifts Gretchen up while I pull out her foot. Gretchen lets out a muffled cry but she’s free. She leans heavily on both Kevin and I as we make out way to the outlet again. I don't bother looking back, I'm busy carrying half of Gretchen's body weight.

That's gonna be sprained for a while.

And we still need food.

Fuck.

-

"Janis, I know it's you."

I sigh and step out from where I was hidden in the shadows. "What are you doing out here."

Damian is standing with his arms crossed the center of the kitchen, strongly resembling a disappointed mother.

"You guys were almost caught."

"Blame Gretchen." I shrug, avoiding Damian's gaze.

"Is she okay?"

"We're no doctors but she's probably not gonna be borrowing for a while."

Damian tsks. "You need food?"

"No, you don't have to worry, I can do it myself. I don't wanna be a bother you probably have other things to do-"

"Janis."

"Yes," I mumble, glancing up. Damian looks like he can't decide whether to laugh or be concerned. "What?"

"I offered. You aren't a bother."

"Okay," I said softly.

I guess I let Gretchen's words get to me more then I realized. 

Damian grabs granola before turning back to me. "What would you have done if I didn't see you?"

I shrug. "Died, probably."

Damian obviously did not like this answer. "Janis."

"What do you want me to say?! We're small and inconvenient and it's a big dangerous fucking world!"

"You can ask for help next time."

I hug myself slightly. "You'd get annoyed fast if I asked for help every time. I'm a borrower, I should be able to do this on my own."

Damian doesn't try to fight my point. "Can I pick you up?"

"Why?" I question but nod anyway.

Damian reaches out and gently scoops me up, letting me fall into the palm of his hand before holding me to his chest.

"Because I want to talk with my friend and not risk her getting caught. We're gonna go to my room"

Friend.

Take that, Gretchen.

"Okay." I laugh softly as Damian makes his way through the house.

tldr, gretchen is a bitch but its from the heart @realmisspolarbear @musicallygt @sourishlemons @smallsoysauce

#g/t mean girls #mg borrower au #tiny janis #borrower janis #borrower gretchen #tiny gretchen #tiny kevin #borrower kevin #giant damian #g/t writing #g/t #Giant/tiny #sfw g/t

[gunnerpalace]

And I’m 💯 sure that you’re blocked and you can eat it.

But I would like to talk about this idea a little, actually. So, here are a couple of points:

The thing that a lot of modern-day “Bleach fans” don’t get is that as far as Japan is concerned, the only thing that really sells Bleach to the mass-market general audience is Ichigo and Rukia interacting. The hard truth those “Bleach fans” refuse to accept is that most of fights sucked, most of the mysteries sucked, and other than the two of them (and maybe Toushirou and Byakuya) most of the characters aren’t interesting to the average person. If you liked Bleach for any of those three reasons (or any other minor reasons), then you are in the absolute minority of nerds.

The cold, iron truth of economics is that you sell media properties in one of two ways: either by drilling down to a highly dedicated fanbase (e.g., moe-blob anime with extremely jacked-up Blu-ray prices) or by appealing to as wide and shallow an audience as possible (e.g., the Marvel Cinematic Universe). The interesting thing with Bleach is that those two audiences, by the numbers, are actually interested in the same thing: Ichigo and Rukia, and more particularly, IchiRuki.

Bold claim, I know. But you don’t have to look hard to see it. This is why the musicals were focused on them. This is why the LA movie was focused on them. And this is why both of those deemphasized other ancillary characters, especially Ichigo’s human friends like Chad—or Orihime: because they are essentially irrelevant to that largely singular fixture of the series and are forgettable other than to some hardcore nerd. (The only other thing that comes remotely close to being as iconic are the Soul Society fights, especially Ichigo vs. Byakuya.)

This is also why every time the property has been reinvented for a new market (again, e.g., the musical and the LA movie) the focus has always been on early Bleach: because it most showcases their interactions and establishes their foundational emotional connection. This is in large part why arcs that more and more deemphasized their interactions suffered increasingly worse sales, to the point that Bleach was consistently ranked 20th out of 20 in Weekly Shounen Jump’s ratings on a week-to-week basis. Less Ichigo and Rukia, and especially less Ichigo and Rukia together, means less sales. This is why TYBW and WDKALY sold abysmally, and I’m willing to bet that CFYOW’s numbers aren’t too great either considering it features neither of them at all.

This is furthermore why Studio Pierrot gave them so many moments, like the ice-skating and fireworks date that they used to send off the anime: because IchiRuki sells. And not much else does.

So, having established that, let’s talk about your idea.

Ichika and Kazui don’t make sense, because their existence in TYBW isn’t established. They simply appear, like the rest of the ending, with no buildup or explanation. In other words, there is no reason to invest in them as characters; they are simply designs walking and talking on a page. (And surprise, the only people who cared “about” them at all were people like you who were pleased as punch that it was evidence that Ichigo and Orihime, and Rukia and Renji, fucked. And even you lot don’t care about them, because there is nothing about them to possibly care about. You care about them as symbols and nothing more.)

However, what would make even less sense is to introduce them without having TYBW at all. For the anime to jump from Ichigo and Rukia having an ice rink not-date to having Ichika and Kazui running around in their places would be a bit like jumping from Star Wars: Episode V - The Empire Strikes Back in 1980, to Star Wars: Episode VII - The Force Awakens in 1983, instead of having Return of the Jedi. It really isn’t possible to overstate how much that big of a leap would lose an audience, whose reactions would be, “What the fuck is this? What happened?”

As I have previously calculated, animating TYBW would take about 4–5 seasons and about 3–4 years of production. So, unless you wanted to pull one of the strangest continuations ever in media history, you’d be waiting for that to wrap first, and presuming its financial success (which is dubious, for the above outlined reasons, and its relative historical print failure which got the manga cancelled).

Setting all that aside, Ichika and Kazui are not photocopies of Rukia and Ichigo; they are genderflipped photocopies of Renji and Orihime. There is a reason why, despite the best efforts of IH here on Tumblr Dot Com, the IR community has never warmed up to them: why would you take a cheap clone knockoff that can’t even trace the original properly when you could just have the original? This will likewise hold true for a general audience. If a random-ass person in Japan knows anything at all about Bleach, it’ll be Ichigo and Rukia. Going, “This isn’t them, but here’s the same great taste but less filling!” is going to get you a response of, “No thanks.”

Setting that aside, what exactly would be the premise? The Espada were retconned in from the aether and people were fine with them, since they were basically just the inverse and mirror of the Shinigami. But people didn’t much care when Xcution were retconned in from the aether. And they didn’t like it when Yhwach and the Sternritter were retconned in from the aether. And they really don’t care now that Tokinada, Hikone, and Aura were retconned in from the aether. Are you really going to have a fifth group of baddies we never even vaguely heard of before showing up? Or are you going to just recycle a set? “Oh, no, Aizen has escaped Muken and has made the Super Fullbringer Espada…” Please. The concept is tapped out: it either has to keep inventing new bullshit and pretending it was always around, or it has to recycle the same ideas but in a less exciting way. Or it has to be rebooted.

It is clear that something or other is happening with regard to Bleach for this “anniversary” event, but the evidence, in my eyes, doesn’t match what you would see for TYBW being animated, let alone for some kind of Boruto-style series.

The event has been marketed in a rather low-key fashion, which is weird considering the 2020 Olympics are a once-in-a-generation event which provide the perfect hype vehicle (and which Shueisha has been using to push other WSJ properties). If you were working on a large or risky project, you’d want a lot of hype—either to prepare the audience, or to maximize your initial buy-in and returns if it’s going to flop (e.g., Anthem). Being cautious indicates both the scale and risk are small.

The emphasis on the voice actors who are appearing at the event are all for classic and popular characters: Ichigo, Byakuya, and now Rukia. You know what fans don’t like? Having a bait-and-switch pulled on them where their classic faves are affiliated with something, only for them to be radically deemphasized in the actual final product. (Just look at the three recent Star Wars movies for some proof of that one.) It is far more likely to be something focused around them.

MegaHouse is making new Bleach figurines this year. But the designs they’ve chosen so far are… Fake Karakura battle Armored Yoruichi (who I’m excited for), and Hueco Mundo style unreleased Grimmjow. If you were going to make merchandise for TYBW or a next-generation show, it’d make a lot more sense for that merch to be… actually related to those events, rather than “classic” designs, now wouldn’t it? To go to the Star Wars well again, they weren’t trying to sell Qui-Gon Jinn or Lando Calrissian toys with The Last Jedi.

To me, all the evidence indicates that whatever it is will be some sort of “Greatest Hits” OVA or something like that, with a focus on the Aizen era of the series. Maybe a lot of the “best” battles redone in really high quality. Maybe a video game. Maybe a reboot of the series from the start. Hard to say. But it doesn’t look an awful lot like TYBW, let alone a next-generation effort.

Now, I’m not saying that either of those things are impossible. I’ve been wrong before in this life (for example, I didn’t think Putin would invade Crimea), and I will be wrong again. I could be wrong about this too. I can only speak in probabilities.

But what I will say with confidence is that committing to TYBW would be fairly dumb as a business decision given everything that is evident about what makes Bleach sell.

And committing to a next-generation series at this stage before doing TYBW would be even dumber.

And doing a next-generation series without doing TYBW would be even dumber still.

Now, stupid people are in ascendancy worldwide in all kinds of endeavors, so it’s not outside the realm of possibility that someone greenlit something so dumb. But if they did, I don’t think it’s going to do so hot.

So, good luck, I guess.

#Asks

[buckyfullerene]

Jorden van Foreest Wins Tata Steel Chess Tournament 2021

GM Jorden van Foreest became the first Dutch player in 36 years to win the Tata Steel Chess Tournament. The 21-year-old grandmaster defeated his compatriot GM Anish Giri in a dramatic playoff after both had finished on 8.5/13.

"On top of the world," was Van Foreest's answer to the question of all questions—how he felt after winning the super-tournament in Wijk aan Zee.

The oldest brother from a large family of chess players won the "Wimbledon of chess," a tournament of 13 classical rounds over the course of 16 days by remaining undefeated, scoring plus four, and winning the blitz playoff in the armageddon game. He also broke 2700 for the first time as he won 30 rating points.

Meanwhile, it was a massive disappointment for Giri and his fans. The Dutch number-one seemed destined to finally win his first major tournament in which GM Magnus Carlsen participated, but instead he lost his second playoff in Wijk aan Zee, after the one in 2018 against Carlsen.

On the decisive moment, at the end of today's armageddon game, over 80,000 online viewers were watching the combined Chess.com broadcast streams (Twitch, YouTube, and international channels), and more than 700,000 watched over the course of the day. These are incredible numbers for over-the-board tournament play, normally only seen during world championships. The chess boom is real, and Wijk aan Zee profited from it.

The many online spectators witnessed a special moment in the history of Dutch chess. It has been mentioned many times, but van Foreest finally did what predecessors like Jeroen Piket and Loek van Wely couldn't: become the first Dutch winner since GM Jan Timman won it, 36 years ago, in 1985.

A big part of van Foreest's success was his final-round win against GM Nils Grandelius, and that win was largely based on his highly successful opening preparation.

"I have to give a big shoutout to my second, GM Max Warmerdam," said van Foreest. "We had this position on the board this morning. He said, '13...Bd7 is the human move.' We played around a bit, we got to this position with 16...Qb8, and he played 17.c4 and said it was slightly better for White according to the engines, but I didn't know the follow-up."

"In general, it's a very risky line for White," van Foreest added. "I believe Black is better if he knows it, but in this situation, the line is really very well-suited for this game."

Van Foreest continued playing the engine's preferred choices, including the wonderful 21.Nb5!. Grandelius initially defended well but got low on time and at one point collapsed. A nice final touch was van Foreest's king walking to h6, in the style of GM Nigel Short's win vs. 1985 winner Timman.

"It's crazy, it didn't really get through to me yet, I just finished the game. It was a really tough game, and I think happiness will come later," said van Foreest after this game, not realizing how prophetic these words would be.

By then, he knew that his win was going to be good for a tiebreak because it became clear that Giri was going to draw his game. Spanish GM David Anton was in control in this game but failed to convert his long-term advantage.

For a while, Giri's prospects did look rather grim. After two and a half hours, his wife IM Sopiko Guramishvili—on a short break from her own commentary—told an interviewer of the Dutch national broadcaster NOS: "I'm pretending not to be nervous!"

Giri himself was strolling confidently through the playing hall after almost every move he made and was out of trouble when he could play the thematic ...d5 pawn break.

GM Fabiano Caruana, who could still catch the leaders, had little chance for more than a draw against GM Aryan Tari, but that cannot be said about GM Alireza Firouzja. The Iranian teenager was doing rather well against GM Radoslaw Wojtaszek, and he had good chances to finish on the same number of points as Giri and van Foreest.

His Sonneborn-Berger (SB) tiebreak, however, was worse. During the round, it was already clear that a win wouldn't be enough for Firouzja to make it to a playoff, which according to the regulations would only be played by two players.

The all-Dutch playoff was scheduled to start at 18:10, two tables away from Firouzja-Wojtaszek, who were still playing. When these players reached the time control, the arbiters asked them to move to one of the tables farther away so that they would be less bothered by the moves of Giri and Van Foreest.

Firouzja was visibly disturbed (understandably so) and refused to leave the table. While the playoff was underway, he spoiled his promising position, and afterward, he was very angry at the arbiters and shouted at the main organizer. The whole affair was a stain on an otherwise wonderfully organized event in pandemic times.

The regular round saw two more decisive games. For starters, a win for the world champion, who at least managed to finish a bad tournament on a plus score as he outplayed GM Maxime Vachier-Lagrave in a Grunfeld.

"He went for a plan in the middlegame, which probably wasn't very good," explained Carlsen. "After he sac'ed the exchange, I think I was considerably better. 29.Nd2 was pretty nice, giving up another pawn but eventually winning based on domination."

"The overall performance was … shameful, to be honest," Carlsen reflected. "There were really very few moments of redemption in the tournament, it was really quite poor, and I have to do better in the future."

Besides van Foreest, another young grandmaster broke into the elite club of 2700 players for the first time in this tournament. GM Andrey Esipenko finished with a win against the luckless GM Alexander Donchenko.

The playoff consisted of two blitz games; the time control was 5|3. Giri missed a chance to take the lead.

Giri was also better in game two, where he won a pawn. However, too much had been traded by then, and van Foreest held it to a draw with accurate defense.

The match went down the wire with an all-decisive armageddon game. Van Foreest won the toss and chose to play with the black pieces.

Once again, it was Giri who took the upper hand, this time in a must-win game for him. He reached a winning position indeed but then blundered it all away in one move, missing an intermediate check, despite thinking for half a minute on that fateful 26.c6.

The Giri-Van Foreest armageddon game. Photo: Jurriaan Hoefsmit/Tata Steel Chess.

As the players got low on time, it was van Foreest's turn to blunder, first a pawn and then a full piece. Giri was winning again.

In a hectic final phase, the moves were made so fast that the digital chessboard stopped registering them after move 58. To the online viewers, it looked like Giri lost on time in a winning position.

In reality, four more moves were made, and Giri turned out to be the last to blunder. In the final position, he couldn't prevent his opponent from queening a pawn, and as he leaned back in disbelief, he resigned while letting his clock run down to zero.

"In these blitz games, it basically comes down to a lot of luck," said van Foreest. "He played the better chess, but maybe I played the faster chess in the end. Blitz is just a coin flip basically."

Some viewers must have felt uncomfortable with the fact that a 13-round classical tournament is decided in a time scramble like this—especially the ones who were rooting for Giri.

Van Foreest: "I felt bad for Anish, and I felt a bit bad about this game. There was a lot of throwing pieces around. You don't want to win this way but it happened like this, and I'm just really happy now."

The youngest of the two Dutchmen, who is a friend and has helped Giri as a second in the past, praised Giri: "Full credit to him, he played a really good tournament, really deserved to win it. I mean, he could have won both of his last games too, but that is just how it goes."

Giri (second), van Foreest (first), Esipenko (third). Photo: Jurriaan Hoefsmit/Tata Steel Chess.

Thank you all and have a nice day :)

#chess #tatasteelchess2021

[lovehugsandcandy]

Find the Lady (BP, Ash x MC)

A/N: So I started this when I was amused by the hijinks of BP and abandoned it when it started to get old but then figured I should try to finish it...because I do love me a snarky LI, don't I? This was already posted in AO3, sorry if you already read it.

Pairing: Ash x MC; mentions of Courtney x Mario ‘BrainMelt’ Bautista, Bachelorette Party

Length: ~3600 words

Rating: PG-13 (Swearing. Someone (?) drinks too many Bloody Marys and gets sick.)

Summary: Find the Lady but Mandy’s the Lady and, if Ash can find her, he’s not letting go.

Ash had to do a double-take, a triple-take, hell, a quadruple-take, when he walked by the open door of the Peanut Butter and Banana Quickie Chapel & Pawn Shop at the far end of the Strip. It wasn’t unusual for the gaudy gold doors to be propped wide open in the spring, Vegas heat not yet in full force, comfortable days still the norm before the fire of the summer arrived; the chapel was small enough that he was able to peer inside, past the makeshift pews, past the smoke machines and disco balls, all the way to the far wall where linen flowers and neon lights surrounded the glitter-gold script of their slogan. One-stop shop! We’ll put a ring on it and take it off your hands, too!

However, none of the garish decor caught Ash’s eye. Instead, it was captured by the trio who stood with their backs to him, speaking to the Elvis impersonator. Now that he looked closer, he could tell that it was the blond girl who hooked up with the magician and the hotshot doctor who just happened to live out East near Mandy. These two were just secondary to the sight that stole his attention though because, right in the middle, always right in the thick of everything, stood the gorgeous lawyer herself, braid cascading down her back as she spoke animatedly to Elvis. 

He wanted to head in, to say hello and take just a second to bask in her attention, to see her face, but he had to pause. If she was here, talking to a quickie minister with Reed at her side, it could only mean one thing. She definitely wouldn’t want him popping back into her life at this exact, special moment. So he took just a minute to watch, her hands flying through the air as she gestured to the flowers, the pedestal. He had to smile, melancholy as it was. He was glad it worked out for them. She deserved to be happy.

~~~~~

He hadn’t seen her in six months; hell, it felt like they had barely spoken over text since she left for the airport with her friends and his heart, but she was never far from his mind. He always knew that he was little more than an interesting diversion in her life, a wild story about the time she was in Vegas and met a two-bit hustler while on the run from the mafia, but for him? She was no drunken exploit or tall tale. Yes, it had been short romance, but it was the first time a tourist wove a path into not only his bed but his mind and his bones and his soul. He could still see her, clear as day, standing on the roof of his shit apartment, bathed in the sun's glow as it peeked over the mountains. 

He would recognize her anywhere.

Which is why he had to do another double-take on the Strip that night. He was in the middle of a game of Find the Lady, a pair of eager college-aged tourists focused on his hands as they followed the familiar routine, over-under left right left, when a dark braid caught his eye for the second time that day. He turned his head, quickly, too quickly, and his hands stuttered, the second card falling from his palm to the pavement below.

The girls in front of him laughed as Ash gaped at the card on the ground. He never messed up this game. “Wow, ladies.” He pulled his best smile out. “I think you both distracted me. You win this time.” He knelt to grab his card and held out the deck again. “Best two out of three?”

Once they had finally wandered off, after five more games where he made sure he focused only on his cards, not the gorgeous brunette he was certain he saw, he scanned the crowd intently. Nothing. He looked around.

“Jayson, man, did you see-?”

“I’m not helping you.” Jayson held up his discs. “I’ve had no success tonight because you keep telling people my mix tape is just me at karaoke.”

“It is you at karaoke. It’s not even good karaoke; it’s a clip from your phone at Club Yamang that ends with you screaming at a bouncer as they throw you out.”

“I told them I paid my tab.” Jayson glared.

“Yeah, with a stolen credit card.”

“Man, shut up, you don’t need to blow up my spot.”

“You have no spot.” Ash was still scanning the crowd, Strip packed with tourists and grifters and hustlers enjoying the glittering facades around them. “Do you remember-”

“I remember nothing.” Ash sighed as Jayson stalked off, clutching his CDs under one arm as he looked for his next victim.

With one last look around, Ash shook his head and got back to work. It’s not like she was here to find him anyway.

~~~~~

The next night found him outside the strip club, LIV DUDS blinking in the window. Shitty exterior aside, it was always packed on Saturdays, an easy way to catch willing coeds as they streamed out of the club, high on the buzz that only scantily clad strippers provided.

He was far from the door, eyeing the crowd and waiting for someone who seemed willing to play, when a shout made him turn.

“BACHELORETTE PARTY PART TWO! WOOHOO! ALL THE FUN WITH NONE OF THE GUNSHOTS!” His jaw dropped. It was the blond again, Courtney, the one with the enormous wild streak and dirty mind. She was bouncing, vibrating, visibly excited at being in her element again. And trailing behind her? Ash watched as the three amigos walked out, the senator’s ex and the one with the sketchy job and then, trailing behind with a blush on her cheeks and smile on her face, there she was. Mandy always took his breath away, every time he saw her, and this was no exception.

He stood, frozen on the spot, watching her talk on her cell, hands gesturing, as Diana put her hands on her shoulders to hustle her into a waiting Dryve.

Crap. 

He sprinted forward but watched as the backdoor shut, car lurching and pulling out into traffic.

Fuck. He glanced around, eyes falling on an idling cab. He dashed to the window, knocking frantically.

“I need a- Gene?”

Gene rolled down his window. “’Sup, Ash?”

“I thought you were still pretending to be a human statue by the Bellagio.”

“Meh. Gold paint took forever to wash off, especially when it got inside those tiny shorts and irritated my-”

“TOO MUCH INFORMATION!” Ash grimaced, making a mental note to bleach his brain as soon as he got home. “Anyway, I need a ride. Now.”

“I’m on my break!” Gene gestured to the tuna sandwich in his hands. “I haven’t eaten all day!” The words were barely intelligible around the giant bite in his mouth. 

Ash could just make out the taillights of their car heading downtown. With a deep breath, he opened the door and yanked Gene out of the driver’s seat.

“What the-”

“Here.” Ash pulled open the back door and shoveled him in before hopping behind the wheel, turning the engine, and peeling out. He could just make out the rideshare and had suddenly never been so grateful that the Strip was a long, flat line. “Just sit and enjoy.”

There was a rustling in the back and then a thud as Gene dove towards the floor. “My sandwich!”

“I’m sure it’s fine.”

“You stole my cab.” He was pouting, brushing off the grime from his food, but Ash sensed that it was halfhearted as he settled into the seat and stepped on the gas.

“Not stealing-you’re in it!”

Ash saw Gene take a giant bite of his dinner in the rear-view mirror. “Still stealing,” he sulked.

“Risk I’m willing to take.” He didn’t know what he would say to her if he caught up to them. ‘Congratulations’ seemed a little too fake, ‘Remember me?’ a little too bitter.

“Grand theft auto here. I can’t believe I took financial advice from a thief!”

“Not a thief, I’m borrowing. Much like one does with a loan when they incur a debt. But I’m giving your collateral back when we catch up with that car!” Ash concentrated on darting between traffic, keeping the Dryve in sight, winding his way up the Strip, past the familiar glittering lights and lively casinos. “And, come on! It’s Vegas! Live a little!”

“View’s different back here.”

“That’s the spirit. Enjoy the ride, man.”

Gene gazed out the window. “Did you know that Dirty Harry’s has half priced drinks tonight?”

“Yeah, they do every year on Clint Eastwood’s birthday,” Ash answered idly, focused on getting closer to the girls’ car, gaining some distance as it started to slow down.

“Hmm….” Gene peered at him. “You’ve been doing this a long time, haven’t you kid?”

“Stealing cabs?”

“Hustling on the Strip.”

“About ten years.”

“You ever think about doing something else?”

Ash thought to the manuscript saved on his laptop, forty thousand words, a treatise on hustling tourists and taking risks in the world capital of risky decisions, only partially completed before he lost his motivation, right around the time he realized he lost Mandy for good. He thought about his book and how maybe he could write from anywhere, even from the ritzy East Coast city where doctors and lawyers met and drank expensive whisky with their expensive degrees on the wall. 

He swallowed. Gene was still looking intently at him, eyes peering into him like he read minds. “Sometimes,” Ash responded with a shrug. “But right now, I’m just thinking about catching up to that Dryve.”

“Just don’t crash my cab. I don’t need anymore debt!”

“You got it.”

Finally, after running two red lights, a nerve-wracking close call with a drunk tourist, and inventive insults from the backseat that Gene should definitely trademark, the Dryve pulled up to a stop; he could see the Girl Scouts jump out and file into their hotel.

He screeched to a stop in front of the building, wincing as the valet dove out of the way. “Ok, take your cab, Gene. Here’s my stop.”

He slammed out of the cab but the “Hey, Ash?” from behind him made him turn.

“Yeah?”

“Good luck with your girl.” He had to smile. Of course Gene knew who they were chasing. Ash had always been obvious.

“Thanks, man. Thanks for everything.”

With that, he raced into the lobby of the hotel, the same hotel where he had accidentally rescued them from the gunman, the same hotel with the forest penthouse and shitty security that seemed to allow Norwegian murderers open access to guest rooms. He shook his head. Focus. No time for a walk down a truly trippy memory lane now; he had to find them. Where could they be?

Luckily, raised voices at the bar to his right were a clear signal. A loud commotion, raised voices, and breaking glass? Bingo.

He skidded into the bar and froze. And blinked. And blinked again. “Ummm....”

“Oh! Hi, Ash.” Aisha gave him a quick wave and then returned to the task at hand, trying to corral an overwhelmed Courtney while bobbing and weaving to avoid the signature hand flap. “Courtney, come on!”

“But....” Ash grimaced as her hand collided with Aisha’s shoulder, the slap barely audible with the noise of the insanity in front of him. “But...”

Diana peeked around her friends, barely visible behind the giant thing in front of him. “Hey, Ash.”

“Hi, Diana. Umm...” He blinked again, wondering if he blinked enough times, the vision in front of him would fade. Did he hit his head? “Is that an ostrich?”

She scoffed at him. “It’s an emu!”

“Why the hell do you have an emu?”

Courtney was still flapping her hands, limbs vibrating as she stood; Diana edged away from her and muttered,  “.... because we’re staying in the rain forest suite again?”

“What. Do emus even live in the rain forest?” The emu looked unfazed. 

“Who cares, Ash!?! Do I look like I watch National Geographic?”

“Yes?” He took in her prim outfit, the severe look on her face, and the bottle of electrolyte water in her hand. He nodded definitively. “Yes. You look like your idea of a wild night is binging National Geographic in a bathrobe and fuzzy slippers while wearing a face mask and drinking a green juice.”

She wrinkled her nose. “That was so specific that it feels like you were spying on me last weekend.”

He rubbed his temples. “Ok, where the hell did you get an emu?”

Courtney had calmed enough to join the world of the semi-functional and jumped in, “Ash, it’s Vegas! You can get anything here!” She lovingly stroked the neck of the bird; it seemed like it enjoyed the attention. Then again, who knew? “They still haven’t supplied any cute animals, so we had to find our own!”

“You mean, you stole it from the zoo.” Ash whirled to see Mandy walking in, a severe man in zookeeper garb trailing behind her.

“Borrowed!” Courtney’s voice did the screech-thing again.

“Stole and hid it in the suite until it escaped because no one fed it!” Mandy put her hands on her hips.

“What?!?! I left it cocktail weenies and made it Bloody Marys from the mini fridge!”

“It eats seeds. Insects. Grass.” The zookeeper edged closer. “It can’t metabolize alcohol; since water is scarce in their natural habitats, they have a tendency to consume vast amounts of liquids so it has reserves when-”

The zookeeper trailed off as the emu made a few grunting noises and, in a stunning display, threw up partially digested hot dogs and red liquid onto the bar floor as the entire group lunged backwards. They all looked at each other in stunned silence.

“Of all the vomit I thought I would see, I really didn’t think it would be from that.” Diana blinked, looking down at the violent red stain on the floor. For once, Ash agreed with her completely. The emu squawked and looked around, nosing its beak towards the bowl of peanuts on the bar. 

“Did that emu just boot and rally?” Courtney sounded as shocked as Ash felt.

The zookeeper sighed. “They really are amazing animals with a fully developed system of-”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, enough with the zoology lesson.” Aisha glared. “Can you get this thing out of here?”

The zookeeper glared. “It’s not a thing. It’s the second largest bird on Earth with a wingspan of-”

“Ok.” Mandy patted his arm. “It’s amazing, but can you please remove it? I’m sure it wants to get back to the zoo.”

“Fine.”

Ash stepped out of the way, watching the zookeeper coo in some bird-language that made the emu duck its head and follow him out of the bar.

“Wow.” Courtney had stars in her eyes. “That creature is majestic.”

Mandy shrugged, catching Ash’s eye for the first time. He felt his heart stop. “Hi, Ash.” Hell, time stopped.

“And that’s our cue...” Courtney grabbed Diana’s arm, and he barely registered them brushing by, Aisha hot on their heels as they entered the bowels of the casino. The only thing he registered was Mandy’s gaze, pinning him in place with the weight of months of unspoken words and missed opportunities. 

She stepped closer and still he couldn’t move. “Earth to Ash.”

“Hey.” He looked behind him, taking in the open pair of barstools, past the pile of emu vomit on the ground, and set his shoulders. “Do you want to grab a drink? Not Bloody Mary’s?”

He could barely focus on anything else as they settled down at the bar and waited for their drinks. The dim lighting made her seem shadowy, gauzy, as if she were floating in and out of his daydreams; he had to shake his head and take a swig as soon as the beer was placed in front of him. It seemed like she was already so close to fading away, back into her normal life and out of his reach.

“I wondered if we would find you.”

Her voice brought him back to the present, and he shrugged a shoulder. “Vegas is a small place for a local. Also, the four of you cause so much trouble it was only a matter of time.”

“Courtney causes so much trouble.”

“And you’re right there with her.” The smile was impossible to stop. “I seem to remember you getting into trouble all on your own.”

“And I seem to remember you bailing me out a few times.”

“Don’t need to do that anymore.” He winced as the words came out far more bitter than he intended.

“Ash? Why are you…?” She put her hand on his arm and he inhaled sharply, as even that simple touch sent his mind spinning. He pulled away, needing a bit of distance, any distance, something to give him space from the memories of another bar, just like this, another time when he wondered if he would ever see her again. She sighed, watching him, dark eyes cautious and waiting, before she leaned in again to aver, “You know I missed you.”

He had to turn away so she wouldn’t catch his eye roll. “You stopped texting me but it’s ok, I get it.”

“I’ve been working on some things, Ash. I’m sorry but-”

“It’s fine.” He shrugged, lifting his glass. “It’s all transient. You know how it is.” 

“We had something real. You know we did.”

“Aren’t you getting married!?!”

“WHAT?” She stared at him. “To who? What?!?”

“To Reed? The doctor?” Ash shrugged, turning away from her to hide his face. “I saw you at the chapel. And it’s your Bachelorette Party. Congratulations.”

A hand on his cheek turned his face, so he could see Mandy gaping at him. “Reed? Wait, what? No, no, no. He’s here for the wedding, too. Courtney is getting married.”

“Wait, Courtney?” Any happiness he may have felt at the implication that Mandy might be fair game was supplanted by his shock. 

“Yeah. To Mario.”

Ash was so glad that he hadn’t taken another sip of beer because it would have ended up splattered on the marble of the bar. “The MAGICIAN?”

Mandy shrugged. “I think it’s good for her. She needs a bit of stability in her life.”

“I agree, but a magician named Mindblaster is the stability here?” Ash couldn’t stop the scoff.

“Ok. So it’s not a ton of stability.” Mandy smiled. “But they really are a great fit. And she’s happy.”

“Huh.”

She caught his eye. “And I’m not getting married.”

“I see…” It felt like the air had left his lungs. “So, are you saying you’re single?”

“I don’t know about single…” Ash felt his face fall as Mandy looked up at him, curiously. “There is this guy I like….”

He turned to face the bar, grabbing his beer. Of course.

A hand on his arm stopped the bottle halfway to his mouth. “You fool. You know my type. Japanese-American street performers?”

“Pretty niche, you know.” He had to smile ruefully, trying to keep the bitterness from his voice. “You remember you left him behind, right?”

She swallowed. “Ash… I’m moving to Vegas.”

“What?”

“My firm has a rotation program for high potential lawyers.” She looked at her hands. “I was selected and get to work with a top partner at a different branch across the country for nine-month trial period. If it goes well, I might have a permanent position.” Finally, she raised her head to meet his eyes. “It’s a big career opportunity. And I requested to come to Vegas.”

He carefully placed the bottle on the bar. “Are you serious?”

“Starts in two weeks. I want to be more than a tourist here. My career is so important to me, Courtney’s moving here, but I mean…I was hoping you…”

He cut her off with his lips. He just couldn’t stop himself from kissing her, pulling her close so the bar stool tilted and she was supported by his hands on her waist, her thighs against his, reacquainting himself with her lips and her tongue and the small of her back and the soft noise she made in the back of her throat and how her hands clutched his jacket as if she was afraid he would vanish.

Pulling back, he had to grin, eyes tracing over her face, the soft look in her eyes. He’s had some big wins in his life but this one takes the cake. 

“And here I was, thinking of moving out East.”

“Wait, what?” She was still so close to him and he watched the individual lashes surrounding those beautiful eyes flutter as she gazed at him.

He shrugged, feeling bashful. “I missed you.”

“Well, you’re lucky my type is extremely rare back home.”

“Your type....” He couldn’t stop the grin spreading across his face. “Tell me all about this street performer you like. Total hunk, right?”

“No one says that anymore.”

“Dashing hustler by day, fearless mafia fighter by night?” He smirked and leaned closer, drawn to the smile playing around her lips; it called to him, to his every cell, urging him closer.

“You legit peeled away as soon as we got shot at.”

“With an amazing sense of self-preservation?”

Finally, her grin broke into a wide smile, beaming across her face, and burned into his brain. “Oh my God, shut up and kiss me again.”

So he did. Nine months of this with a chance for more? That’s a gamble he’d take every time.

.

Tags:

Perma Tag: @leelee10898 @emichelle @client-327 @choicesgremlin @brightpinkpeppercorn @thequeenofcronuts @lilyofchoices @choicesarehard @desireepow-1986

This Mess: @tinypenguincheesemachine, @lizeboredom 

#playchoices fanfic #ash tanaka #ash x mc #bachelorette party #amy writes

[jaggedwolf]

TSCOSI Ficlets #1

Villains pretending to be redeemed

McCabe is an inconvenience. Park had hoped they would panic, betray him, add credence to his cover. Or that Patel would get suspicious at someone Park never mentioned, take care of that problem. No luck there.

They're alive, and worse, they're on the Iris with him and the merry band of insurgents. 

Now Park has to keep track of everything he's ever let slip to McCabe, make sure none of it contradicts what he tells the rest of them. Quite frankly, he's not trained for this. He's not even being paid for this. 

The crew gets more used to his presence. McCabe quickly realises Park has nothing to offer in this life and they'd have better luck looking expectantly at someone else. The gaping hole that used to be his left eye doesn't get infected. All things in favor of his operation.

Yet, every day on this ship tires him.

He wants to walk out of the airlock and let the cold vacuum of space take him. He wants to corner Patel to tell her everything so she can end things with a bullet to his head. He wants to go to sleep and never wake up. Screw humanity, screw the IGR.

He wasn't made to be a spy. If they hadn't had Shelly, he never would have agreed. 

Frederick might be dead or incapacitated (another great aspect of the on-the-run life was the complete lack of information he was used to), but the IGR has an excellent chain of command. Someone else is in charge of Shelly now, someone else knows the terms by which Park could keep her safe, someone else is listening to the coded messages Park taps into his watch every night.

So, he wakes up. 

Spends yet another day pretending he cares about the lives of anyone on this ship.

Time for a sex-off

Violet really isn't sure what she's witnessing, but she figures she'll follow Krejjh's lead and watch. Eat some of their fruit jerky while she's at it. 

Arkady frowns at Brian's most recently made point. "Okay, what about a bar?"

"Uh, dude, did you forget I literally worked at a bar on Rydell? Yeah I've had sex in a bar." Brian chuckles.

"With a bartender?" tries Arkady. 

Arkady's losing this argument and knows it. Krejjh certainly thinks so. They hoot and holler with every act or partner Brian lists off. Though Violet imagines they'd do the same if Brian had confessed to an entire life of celibacy. 

Brian's smile shrinks. "Alvy."

"Shit, dude." Arkady shoots a worried glance at Violet, as if Violet is any better at lightening the mood. 

Brian shrugs it off. "It's fine, man."

Seems fair enough. Violet's been tracking Arkady's yes's - she's not trying to, but her brain logicking out her girlfriend's past seems to be an unmutable feature - and many of them had to have dated from Cresswin or the war. Has to be some losses there, even if Arkady’s deft tale-telling elides that.

Brian suddenly looks pleased with himself. "You've never slept with a Dwarnian."

"No shit," grumbles Arkady. 

"First Mate Patel, are you saying this doesn't entice you?" Krejjh struck a ridiculous pose, their face offended. 

Arkady squinted at Krejjh, silent. Violet snickered. She refilled all four cups of moonshine, idly attempting to retrace the origins of this conversation. 

"Moving on," Arkady finally says, turning back to Brian, "sex outdoors."

"You got me there, bud. Nope," admits Brian.

"I think," says Arkady, "that this competition calls for some calibration. You're half a decade older than me, you've had more time at this. Back me up, Violet. You're the scientist here, isn't there something about experiments and controls?"

Arkady smiles at Violet, her face playing at casual, her dark brown eyes filled with warmth. Her leather jacket's half-slipped off her, and Violet's gaze is transfixed by the revealed bare arm as if she's never seen it before. She wants to pull Arkady into a kiss, drag her back to her room and do about fifty percent of the things Arkady's listed. There are plenty of experiments and controls she'd like to test there. 

Instead, Violet breathes out and responds with a "There are way too many factors at play for both of you, even without the age difference. I'm not sure any calibration would be fair."

Krejjh and Brian high-five. Arkady sulks, leaning even more into Violet, and Violet can't help but think they've won regardless.

Shaky Hands

Sana, Violet decides, is a far better patient than Arkady. It's a comforting fact to latch on to as Violet examines the burned flesh of Sana's forearm, the preliminary treatments done. Sana doesn't object to Violet's procedures, nor does she take offense to Violet asking if she's injured anywhere else.

"Rest of the crew?" asks Sana, her breaths ragged and eyes unfocused. She's seated on the medbay cot, her uninjured side slumped against the wall. Her shaking fingers are interlocked in her lap. Adrenaline after-effect. Temporary reflexes of muscles and tendons that would fade away.

"In the cockpit. We're clear of the planet, from Arkady's last update." Violet sets up one of the medbay's scanners above Sana's arm.

Sana simply nods, closing her eyes.

The Iris's medbay is a large room, with Sana and Violet only occupying a small corner of it. A pang of guilt strikes Violet. Maybe Sana would have appreciated having someone else around too.

Violet looks over the scans on the screen and the diagnostic inferences the software has made. "I may have kicked Arkady out of the medbay."

"Good call." Sana smiles weakly, dimples showing. "Can't have the first mate distracted while the captain's out of commission. How's my arm looking?"

"With the Iris's equipment, you might not even have a scar after this." Violet flashes what she hopes is a reassuring look at Sana. "You'll want to keep use of that arm to minimum, though."

"Okay." Sana doesn't relax at Violet's good news. In fact, she seems tenser. She blinks open her eyes. "And the tremors? There's nothing to worry about there?"

Sana sounds uncharacteristically disbelieving.

"Captain, I can take more scans, but I'm not seeing any nerve damage, if that's what you're worried about."

Sana sighs, her body relaxing against the wall. "Thank you, Violet."

Conversation to have later, maybe with some cross-referencing of Sana's medical history. It had taken a while for Violet to notice that the captain's reticence in sharing details of her own experiences, especially compared to the others.

"It'll take me a few minutes to wrap your arm up, you can go to sleep after that." Violet retrieves what she needs and starts work on Sana's arm

Sana shakes her head. "We should head back up to the cockpit after this, I'm sure the others have questions."

Violet fixes her gaze on Sana. "Didn't you make an announcement the other day that everyone had to listen to me when it came to medbay stuff? You're in the medbay, ergo-"

"I should listen to you." Sana almost looks proud. "Are you sure they don't need anything from me?"

"They're fine, and if they did, Arkady would have commed me by now." Violet adjusts the pillow on the cot. "You can rest, Captain."

Gunpoint

Arkady stared up the barrel of the gun pointed at her. She scowled. Made a show of pressing her wrists against the handcuffs that trapped them behind her back.

"Well, human," said Krejjh from the other side of the gun, a forced grin on their face, "the tables have twisted."

The dwarnian mercs behind Krejjh chuckled. That boded well. Meant they were buying the hasty cover story. Two of the mercs were whispering, jostling each other, and finally someone yelled at Krejjh something in Dwarnian. Whatever it was, it startled Krejjh.

"Why would I"-Krejjh stopped themself, hand holding the gun dropping limply by their side. They continued their reply in Dwarnian. That only seemed to piss off the mercs more, and an argument ensued.

The only non-English Arkady had ever learned was a healthy smattering of swear words, but the merc's expressions provided plenty of reading material, as did the way Krejjh's ears flared back. Easy enough to guess at the little group bonding suggestion Krejjh had rejected.

The mercs had started to doubt Krejjh. Shit. Two against ten would've been risky even if Arkady had been armed. She took a second to assess the situation before arriving back at her original decision. If they survived this, hopefully Violet and Sana wouldn't get too annoying about it.

"Hey, ass!" Arkady's words carried over the din of voices arguing in Dwarnian.

Krejjh turned to her, face stoic, but Arkady could see the signs of confusion. Krejjh hadn't had to do too many in-person cons. Might as well make it a little easier on them.

"Yeah, you, you purple piece of shit," spat Arkady. When Krejjh only took a single step towards her, she kept going. "What, you're too scared of humans to even approach one you've restrained?"

Krejjh's voice was uncharacteristically slow and serious. "I've never been scared of a human." They took another step forward.

This close, Krejjh blocking most of the other mercs from view, Arkady risked glancing at the gun and then Krejjh's brilliant red-yellow eyes. She gave the slightest nod. Krejjh's arm jerked, and they snarled, "You-"

"Me," mocked Arkady. "I've killed so many of your kind during the war. Pretty satisfying. Some deaths were quick and simple. Others, not so much. Want me to go through the list? The first one, now-"

The gun struck right against Arkady's nose, sending her stumbling to the ground shoulder-first. Blood filled her nostrils and relief her lungs in the same haggard breath that followed. A loud roar of approval came from the mercs, even some clapping. Arkady pulled herself back up to one knee. A sliver of blood slipped over her lips into her mouth.

Krejjh was panting heavily. They still looked pissed as hell at Arkady's little speech, and that'd work great for the crowd. Krejjh spun back to the mercs. They waved a free hand back at Arkady. "That good enough for you, fellas?"

The merc that had first yelled at Krejjh clapped them on the back. Arkady's lips quirked, and she reshaped the grin that threatened to show into yet another scowl. She shouldn't have doubted Krejjh pulling through.

For all the shit she'd given Krejjh, at the end of the day, they were a soldier, same as her. 

Accidental Guardianship

One of the teenagers - the human one - has been staring at him recently. Longer than at anyone else. (He is excellent at noticing when he's being watched. It had been a useful skill to cultivate.)

Park briefly considers the possibilities. Perhaps she thinks him the biggest threat on this ship? Laughable. No depth perception, and Patel and the Dwarnian both exist. She's uncomfortable with the eye-patch? No, given her and her friend's background, she's seen far uglier sights than him. He snorts midway through considering the idea that she's chosen him the way her friend has chosen the Dwarnian. He has nothing to offer there.

It doesn't seem to be a problem yet, so Park does nothing. He thinks she isn't planning on stabbing him in his sleep with that knife of hers either, but he does check the locks on his door. Better to be safe.

Instead, she finds him in the kitchen one evening. Her footsteps are silent, and her question entirely unexpected.

"You were an analyst for the IGR, right?" Her brown eyes are intent, but wary, as if he might react the wrong way.

Park presses his hands flat against the table where he sits, and decides not moving is the best strategy. "Most people lump it all together under 'Agent' but yes, that was my job title."

"My mom did that too." The teenager slowly flexes her hand. "At least that's what Dad always said." Her hand stills into the form of a fist. "Then again, he always said she'd ditch it and finally join us again, so who knows what he knew."

An unexpected distaste settles into Park's mouth. His job had been a good one. Hard-won, too. But there was a very good reason Park had made sure the only person he was responsible for over those years had been himself.

Shelly had been the exception. Then again, she'd barged into it all. Left him little choice in the matter. Or perhaps that was a justification to cope with how little he knew about her current state.

A matter for another time. The teenager looked at him expectantly, and he realizes, dread in his gut, what she wants from him.

"There were many analysts working for the IGR." He tries to say the words kindly, but that's never been one of his strengths. "I wouldn't have-"

"What? I'm not stupid, of course you wouldn't know her," the teen spits out defensively. "I...wanted to know what the job was like." She crossed her arms. "If you're not still following the IGR's NDAs."

That he could do. Should he? That was probably in the presentation the captain and Violet had given the crew without the teenagers knowing: Acceptable Conversation Topics For Fourteen-Year-Olds. (Arkady had several objections, and not that Park disagreed, but it made the already thorough presentation even longer.)

He'd hated when adults had lied to him when he was growing up. Always subtleties they assumed he didn't understand, or they thought the world would right itself before any of it became his problem.

He is tired of lies. The others can harangue him about it tomorrow if they want.

Daemons

He'd expected the worst in Zone Z. There was plenty of data to be gained from a spare body and its daemon, with no useful intelligence coming from either. He didn't need to be a scientist to list the obvious experimental setups - separation, intercision, simply touching his daemon.

He always had lacked imagination.

Hyeona's gurgling croaks used to be a reassuring rumble. As he had worked overtime, the raven perched on his shoulder. As he had woken up in the morning, her beak pecking at and rearranging his hair. As he'd walked away from Agent McCabe for the last time, her black wings fluffed up just enough to brush against his ear.

He didn't think he could hear any of her calls the same way. Not after they'd been the background music to her pecking his right eyeball out, claws digging deep into his face. The IGR had a fondness for turning allies against each other, and what greater allies were there between human and daemon? He wondered if forcing Hyeona to do that had been a new level of achievement for them, or if she'd simply demonstrated an existing technique.

After, she didn't look at him.

She didn't look at him as they finally left Zone Z, she didn't look at him as he didn't shoot the dwarnian, she didn't look at him as they boarded the Iris. She flew as much as she could, even chose the ground to rest her feet on over his shoulder. There were too many practicalities to discuss in those early days of the renegade life, and that detail, like so many others, was pushed aside. In any case, the facts were simple.

His hands were the cleanest they'd been in decades. Still, his soul turned away.

#we're just gonna batch'em #maybe i'll finally get around to finishing whumptober a month later #so many good prompts...... #is this just the agent park edition #maybe so #tscosi / #i...should really back up these ficlets somewhere more searchable/long-term-y #but that is future jaggedwolf's problem #as always #ficlets #tscosi ficlets #fuck is park my fourth fave character now have i done this to myself... #answer: yes #tscosi

[uas-fics]

Chapter 2 Of ‘The Pandering Country Western Star’

Chapter 1 - Epilogue 

---

Kiwi snuggled down in Tweek's hair as Tweek tapped his finger on the table top. Craig's livestream would start any minute. Would Craig use the script Tweek edited for him? No, he probably scrapped it. It was too much. It didn't make his fans feel good about Craig keeping his personal life a secret from them.

The more Tweek thought about the whole situation, the angrier he got about it. Coming out is hard and terrifying. No one should be pushed to come out to the world like this — especially not at the hands of a bitter ex. Craig was right to break up with him! He dodged a bullet, as far as Tweek could tell.

Tweek's phone dinged and he picked it up, keeping one eye on the laptop in front of him. 

The text message was from Craig. 

"I'm going to start my livestream soon. Wish me luck? :)“

"Luck ;)" Tweek typed and chewed his lip. 

This was too risky to send. He didn't even know how long ago Craig broke up with his ex. Was it a month? A year? Two weeks? Was he pushing too fast? 

Besides, Craig probably didn't even see Tweek like that. He was a famous country star after all. There were men much more like him out there he could pursue. Men who were famous and used to Craig’s lifestyle.

With a sigh, Tweek went to delete the wink and replace it with a star or a smile, (he hadn't decided which one) when Kiwi took hold of a lock of Tweek's hair and pulled. Tweek yelped, his thumb going right down on the send button.

His heart froze in his chest as he stared down at his mistake. A scream rose up from his throat but died down the moment the livestream started a few seconds later.

Craig smiled at the camera, waving. He held up the black and white guinea pig from his wallet photo and moved his paw to wave as well.

"Howdy," He greeted, and Tweek realized just how much of an accent Craig put on for his fans. "There's quite a crowd here, huh, Astro? I think this is my biggest livestream yet."

Astro didn't look all that impressed. Craig set him down in his lap.

"I'm guessin' you're all here because I said I've got some really big news. I can tell from the chat, you all seem to think it's music related." Craig's smile strained. "It ain't."

Craig took a deep breath, scooting a little farther back. Best Tweek could tell the livestream took place in Craig's living room, which was nothing but Western aesthetic: decorations made with wood, barbwire, and rope covered the wall behind him along with a rustic painting of a pasture with some tiny black, white, and red dots (probably cows or horses, Tweek realized) on it.

"This isn't how I wanted to do this." Craig sighed. "I had other ideas. Plans much classier than this, when I was in a much happier place in my life, but circumstances changed. I want y'all to hear this from my mouth and not the front page of a magazine."

Craig shook once. His face twisted like he was going to vomit, but he swallowed any bile back down.

"I am gay," Craig stated simply, pulling Astro so he pressed against his stomach. "I have always been gay. Since I was still in my mama. That's just how it works. That's how God made it work."

Tweek tensed. Around this part was when he started to edit out the pandering. If Craig went on about God and how He has a purpose for him, then he threw out all Tweek did and went back to the first draft.

Craig's eyes flicked up, looking beyond the camera, then back. "This has been a hard decision for me and a shock for many of you, I'm sure. Or maybe it’s not. Maybe you could all tell and never bothered to let me in on the secret."

Tweek let out a breath he did not remember taking. He slumped forward so abruptly that Kiwi fell from his hair. Kiwi landed, somewhat gracefully, if a little wobbly, on the table.

"Sorry!" Tweek reached out to comfort Kiwi, but he turned and flew up to his perch in his cage.

Craig continued, "Like I said, this isn't how I wanted this to happen. I’d rather had y'all meet my husband after we got engaged or married, but that ain't gonna happen now, I guess."

Pain flashed across his face for a fraction of a second. "I'm sure y'all find out why when Country Western Living comes out since that's where my ex outs me. I think publishing it is downright dirty and shows a lack of journalistic integrity, but I'm not a rich ol' magazine editor." He shrugged. "What do I know — besides you don’t tell other folks secrets for money?"

Tweek couldn't help but smile. Craig was going to throw that magazine right under the bus for this, wasn't he?

"I can say, I spent years hiding myself from people, both family and friends, and from the world itself. It was hard, and I felt like a liar. I heard conversations about folks like me that made my stomach churn. Conversations that I'm sure wouldn't happen if the people in the room knew I was like the people they were talking about."

He cleared his throat. "Even if it's not a perfect coming out story, I think I'll be much happier now, and I know I can make music truer to my life and with more passion than ever before. I want this to be a good thing for all of us."

Astro pipped and began to roll out of Craig's lap. Craig smiled down at him then set him on the floor.

"Don't worry about Astro. I'm still keeping an eye on him. He's safe," Craig reassured. He settled himself back in his seat before continuing, "Now, I know some of you don't ‘agree' with people being gay, and, well, I can't change your mind, but if you don't, it isn't my problem."

Craig fixed the camera with a hard look, his accent falling for the last sentence.

That wasn't part of the first draft or the edited one. Craig was supposed to offer to answer questions from the livestream after he mentioned how coming out would make his life better.

Tweek leaned so close his nose nearly touched the laptop screen. 

He was proud for Craig. 

Even as he answered, somewhat invasive, questions about his sexuality, he seemed relaxed, as if a heavy weight hanging over him just dropped to the ground and missed him.

Well that's what it was, wasn't it? No more hiding. No more lies and fake girlfriend stories. No more feeling like a gay fly on the wall when people bash the community.

"Ok, um, Little.Shop.Of.Yaoi280, I don't know what a ‘uke' or a sea...seem...see-mee? Whatever are and I don't think I want to," Craig was saying as he read through the comments. "Yes, KittyKatLover, I have read the Old Testament. I also read all the verses that say God loves me and made me how I am. That's all I want to say about that."

Tweek finally fell back in his chair, running his hands through his hair, with a goofy smile on his face. Craig handled those kinds of questions a little better than Tweek did the first few times he got then online. Nowadays he deleted invasive or backhanded comments on sight. He used to argue, sometimes with sources, sometimes without, and it would keep him up at night with worry.

He'd have to advise Craig to copy his current method and not his old one.

"Ok, I think Astro wants to go nap with his brother and sister, so one more question," Craig muttered, more to himself than the stream. "Let's see...I like this one. PikachuKetchumAll151 asks me if I could have come out like I wanted with a husband at my side, what would I have said."

He hummed a moment. "I would have announced the man with me is the love of my life and I am blessed to introduce you all to him, but that isn't going to happen any time soon, unless," Craig smirked, "I get very lucky with dates in the near future." He winked.

Tweek fell out of his chair and to the floor, eyes wide. No. Craig didn't. He didn't just ask him on a date on a livestream like that, did he?

"Oh, jeez!" Tweek's mouth gaping open like a freshly caught trout as Craig finished up.

The screen was dark for only a few seconds before Tweek's phone began to ring. Shaking, Tweek answered it without looking at the number.

"Tweek?" Craig asked. His voice was nothing but excitement. "It's over. Did you watch it? All of it?"

"Did you ask me out on a livestream?"

"Hmmmm, no," Craig replied, almost coyly, and Tweek remembered how to breathe properly. "I wanted to ask if you'd like to hang out, actually. I'm not ready to date anyone else right now, but making friends who are also gay and have been out longer than me? I would like that."

Tweek forced his voice to stay steady as he replied, "Yeah, I'd like that too."

---

Red tapped her nails against the lacquered wood of her desk. Her stomach twisted with disgust. She might just vomit over all the negativity surrounding Craig.

She shook her head. No, it's a very vocal few. Most of the reaction towards Craig coming out as gay had been positive. He had plenty of congratulations and even some fanart for him with the Pride flag. Some celebrities even tweeted they were proud of him.

"About time. You'll be happier now, Craig! #LoveisLove" The frontman of Moop, Stan Marsh, tweeted. His partner, Red's old friend, Wendyl, as well as the rest of Moop, also sent Craig their support. Wendyl even went as far as to argue on Craig's behalf in the comments. 

Not that Red planned on showing that to Craig. She couldn't risk him getting involved in an online shouting match and ruining his aloof country boy persona.

Her eyes drifted over the copy of the magazine on her desk. Craig and Thomas were on the cover, walking out in a park and holding hands. Craig’s focus was solely on Thomas and not the beautiful scenery. They must have assumed deep in an isolated park would be a safe place for a secret date. Clearly, they were wrong. 

For what seemed like the hundredth time, Red skimmed the article. The picture Thomas claimed they would publish, one of him and Craig kissing, was nowhere to be found. Red didn’t believe Thomas lied about the photo. When he called, he was stammering nervously and the stress made his tic act up so badly he had to keep starting his sentence over and apologizing.

From Red’s best guess, the photo was probably on private property and the magazine couldn’t legally publish it, but this could use it against Thomas anyway. Not that it mattered in the end. Thomas already admitted he and Craig were dating in the article. 

Red closed the magazine then tossed it aside. Even if Thomas had been tricked into talking, he still was the reason Craig had been strong armed into coming out before he was comfortable, and that pissed Red off.

Grumbling to herself, she turned back to scrolling through the comments on Craig’s latest post, a picture of Petunia in sunglasses and a tiny cowboy hat. It never ceased to amaze her how much he dotes on his pets and treats them like his own children.

Unfortunately, even on a post of a rodent dressed as a cowgirl, people were making hateful comments and asking invasive questions.

Kevin opened the door, steaming bowls in his hand.

"I have leftover chili or microwave ramen." He held up the bowls in turn. "Which do you want?"

Red didn't look up from her computer. "Ramen."

Chili was too heavy and spicy for her stomach to handle. Kevin watered down the romen every time, so she didn't have to worry about making herself sicker.

He slipped the bowl next to her then looked over her shoulder with a frown.

"You need to take a break from those," He told her before spooning chili into his mouth.

"I want to, but I can't." She slurped up noodles. "I'm going to report every bashing comment that might break Twitter's terms of service so Craig doesn't have to see it." Twitter probably wouldn't do anything, even if the comment did break their TOS, but it made her feel better anyway, since Craig decided deleting comments would only make things worse.

Kevin rubbed between her shoulder blades. His hand was warm from the bowls, relieving some of the tension.

"Craig's a big boy, Red. He can handle some hate comments. He's probably been preparing for it for most of his adult life." Kevin set his bowl down to walk behind her. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders then rested his chin on her head. Given how tall she was, when she sat was about the only time Kevin could do this.

"I know, but..." A noise of uncertainty left her throat.

He kissed the top of her head. "It'll be alright. Someone else will do something worse soon and everyone will forget about Craig being gay."

Red set a hand over one of Kevin's, smiling softly. He was such a good husband, so caring and sweet and understanding. She hoped Craig would find someone like that for himself one day.

"Hey, do you know who the guy Craig's been texting nonstop is? Some gay internet celeb, right? The one who helped him with the script?" Red asked abruptly.

"Tweek Tweak, I think is his name," Kevin replied. "I checked out his channel: he's got an alright voice and seems like a good guy. Craig really likes him. We should take bets if this is another case of Tuckers falling in love instantly."

Red rolled her eyes at the joke.

“Good thing I’m a Stoley now, huh? Or you would be worried."

Kevin laughed. “Good thing for both of us!”

Red hummed to herself a moment before pushing back her chair, nearly sending Kevin to the floor. She jumped to her feet and spun around.

"I'm done with this for tonight," Red announced, taking Kevin's hand. "You're right anyway. Craig is a big boy." She kissed his cheek. "So, com'on, let's go watch ‘Battlestar Galactica’."

---

The house was much less "Cozy Ranch, Sweet Tea with Lemon on the Table Next to a Fresh  Rhubarb Pie" Charm than Tweek expected, Craig could tell just by the confused expression on his face as he looked around the living room. After the livestream, Craig put most of the western decoration back in the attic where it usually stated. If he had to stare at a ‘Live, Laugh, Ride Horses’ on the wall all the time, he’d vomit. Every time he had tried to ride a horse before, it either nearly threw him off or tried to eat his fingers. He could live and laugh  just find without them

"Something wrong?"

"No. It's just...big. Wow. Way bigger than my apartment." Tweek spun around. "If I let Kiwi loose here, I'd never see him again."

"It's not that big," Craig defended, deciding not to mention that was the main reason he didn't like his own pets wandering outside their pen without him around. Once he and Stan and Kevin spent the better half of a day searching for Stripe when he escaped from the pen

"I think my parents' coffee shop could fit in here," Tweek muttered, bending down to get a closer look at a stone carving Craig got from a trip to Peru.

"You're parents own a coffee shop?" Craig put his hands in his pockets. "So you're from a business family?"

"It is why I have my degree in business management." Tweek reached his hand to touch the nose of the carving but flinched back. "Did you ever go to college? I mean, I think Stan said he met you in college, didn't he?"

Craig picked up the carving, making Tweek stumble back a few steps.

"I left to become a music star," He twisted the carving over, brushing his fingers along the maker's mark at the bottom, "but I was learning about the physics and chemistry required in the fuel propulsion of jets and rockets."

Tweek blinked at him. "So you left college to be a rocket scientist to sing about drinking beer and trucks."

"You know," Craig set the carving back on the table, "my parents had the same reaction."

"You could have gotten us to Mars." Tweek straightened up. "But, you know, I admire that you took the chance and left that path to follow your dream." He grinned. "Really. It's admirable. My parents would have flipped out if I dropped everything to tour." 

He paused then quickly added, "Not that I want to. I like being able to record from my house. Little stage performances are enough for me."

Craig laughed. "No, I understand. It's pretty heart pounding to have a million eyes on you at once."

Tweek shuddered at the thought.

"Hey, come on, my kids are excited to meet you." Craig put his hands on his shoulders and steered Tweek out of the living room and down the hall.

"I've been telling them only good things these past weeks," Craig continued. "How talented you are and what nice handwriting you have." He paused at a door. "I let Petunia sniff your revision, and she loved it so much she nibbled on the paper."

Tweek snorted as Craig opened the door.

The pen took up a sizeable corner of the room and was surrounded by a knee height fence. Inside were several beds and many toys and hidey holes for his pets. Craig noticed one of the sipper bottles was getting low and made a note to refill it, along with their food dish which somebody (Probably Stripe) knocked over into the bedding again.

“Wow.” Tweek’s mouth gaped. “I thought guinea pigs were kept in cages like hamsters, not something like this.”

“I built it myself,” Craig proclaimed, “though, I went a little overboard in size. Three pigs don’t need this much room.” 

His plan was to let Petunia have a litter and have himself an army of guinea pigs, but once recording and touring started up, Craig found it was hard enough providing enough care and affection for the ones he had, so he took all three to the vet to be neutered. According to the vet, they  would live happier and healthier lives that way anyway.

One of the guinea pigs shuffled around in the hammock and poked a nose out. Petunia looked around before spotting Craig. She gave a squeak and scrambled out to hurried over, probably expecting treats. Her noisy journey from the hammock made the other two peek out from sleeping under a fake log.

Craig stooped down and picked up Petunia. He held her out for Tweek to hold.

"She doesn't bite," Craig mentioned when Tweek hesitated. "Promise."

Tweek took her and held her carefully to his chest. Stroking her long, brown fur, Tweek leaned over the small fencing to look at the others.

"She's soft and those two are really cute," he complimented with a nod to Astro and Stripe the Sixth.

"Thank you. I'm proud of my boys," He reached over and scratched Petunia between the ears, "and my baby girl."

Petunia moved her head against his palm with a happy noise.

Astro grew jealous at the attention Petunia was getting and began to get rowdy in the pen to steal some of it for himself. With a smile, Craig stepped into the pen and sat down. Instantly, Astro was in his lap with Stripe the Sixth settling down next to his leg.

Tweek wavered a moment before following after Craig and taking a seat in the pen.

He opened his mouth when his body went stiff.

"Ack!" He pulled his hand to his chest. "She licked me!"

A grin spread across Craig's face.

"That means she likes you." He scooted closer so they sat side by side, much to Stripe’s annoyance as he had just got comfortable.

"Like a dog?" Tweek stared down at Petunia in awe. Clearly, Tweek hadn’t had more interactions with rodents than average house mice.

"Yes, they are very affectionate critters." He pressed his leg against Tweek's, resting his palm on Tweek’s knee. Tweek tensed, but relaxed a moment later and didn't move away.

"Oh? They are? Well, you know, this," Tweek whistled softly, "is what birds do when they like you. They talk around you and sing."

"I didn't know that." Craig leaned a little closer. Their shoulders were touching now.

"Yeah. They sing and tweet all day if they're happy and safe."

Craig hummed a wordless tune, raising his finger to brush a lock of Tweek's hair back. Before his hand left, Tweek set his on top of it to keep it against his cheek.

"Do you want to know what guinea pigs do when they like someone?" Craig tilted his face towards him.

Tweek mimicked the action, twisting his body a little and disturbing Petunia. She made a whining squeak, alerting Tweek that his action displeased her, though he paid her little mind.

"What else?" He asked as his fingers gently squeezed Craig's hand.

"Something a little like..."

The gap between them grew steadily smaller and smaller until Craig pressed his lips against his.

"This." He pulled back, tapped the ends of their noses together, then pressed his luck to kiss Tweek again.

After a few blissful moments, the two parted completely.

This time when Petunia was disturbed she crawled out of Tweek's lap to trot to Craig's. She climbed over his crossed legs and snuggled down next to Astro.

"W... w... " Tweek stammered.

For a fleeting moment, Craig's chest gripped with worry that Tweek might be trying to say "Why did you do that?!" or "What made you think I wanted that?"

"’Wicked’..." Tweek finally breathed.

A snorting laugh escaped through Craig's nose. "I guess it was. Maybe even ‘radical’ or ‘tubular’?" He teased.

"No, I mean," Tweek chuckled, "'Wicked' like the musical. Jimmy gave me tickets to a performance he's helping with next month. Would you like to come? Like as a date?"

If he could grin any wider, his face would have split right down the middle.

"I'd like that, but you know what I'd like even more?"

Tweek's face dusted pink but he smiled too.

"What?"

"You let me take you out for a date tonight since I don't want to wait a month." Craig moved Stripe to his lap as well. The two already there made irritated squeaks but allowed their sibling to snuggle down between them.

Tweek nodded, pushing his hair back from his face.

"As long as there's no mechanical bull wherever you take me." He laughed. "My friend, Jason, rode one once and broke his arm when he fell off."

Craig's expression twisted into disgust before he could stop himself. Tweek furrowed his brow, nervously fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

"Tweek, I have a confession:" he took a breath, "I hate country music."

Tweek stared at him before bursting out into laughter.

"Oh, right, uh-huh." He elbowed him in the side. "That's a good one. If you want to go someplace with a bull, that's fine. Just don't expect me to ride it."

"I'm serious," Craig deadpanned. He leaned to allow his head to fall back. "I guess ‘hate’ is a strong word. I used to like it. I was raised on the stuff, after all."

Tweek lifted himself on his hands to turn to fully face him. His prompting look encouraged Craig to continue.

"When you said you thought it was admirable that I left school to pursue my passion, well, it was actually the opposite. Rocket science is my passion. Music is a job."

"What?" Tweek shook his head. "That doesn't make sense. That's not how it works."

"That's how it ended up." Craig shut his eyes. "Stan needed help taking all his Moop stuff to a venue, so I offered my car. The owner's daughter overheard me singing to myself and said she'd pay me to sing for her."

"Did you?"

"Thirty dollars for singing a cheesy country love song to a girl? Hell yeah, I did." Craig snickered at the memory. "After that, she told me she could get me on stage for a bit if I wanted. I didn't want a glamorous life of a music star, but I was a broke college student and performing there got me a free dinner and whatever tips I made."

He opened his eyes with a frown. "Then it all kind of snowballed from there. I got asked to come to sing there more and more and soon other places were asking for me, and Red offered to be my manager and before I knew it," he fell back, startling the guinea pigs, "I was famous."

Tweek stared at him, big blue eyes searching his face before he took a breath. "Why would you keep doing something that makes you unhappy?"

Craig shrugged. "Money. I sing what people want to hear from me and, until recently, pretended to be what they wanted completely. Just a good old Southern boy who sings songs that pander to other good old Southern boys."

"So, are all your songs just pandering? That can't be all you ever wrote." Tweek chewed his lip. His brow furrowed. Craig could only assume he was thinking about all the songs of Craig's he knew to check himself.

Craig pushed himself up onto his forearms. "I didn't write any of my songs, actually. When I was first starting, Red introduced me to a lyricist. He'd make the lyrics. I'd help with the instrumentals if he needed it."

"That...really?" Tweek moved to sit on his knees.

"Yeah, his name is Thomas." A pang hit his stomach, but he took a breath and went on, "Thomas actually did live a country life, a little. More to draw from than I have. He has Tourettes, and his mom sent him to a ranch camp for kids like him every summer from when he was eight to eighteen."

"Wow, so you’re really a fake," Tweek replied, unamused.

“I don’t auto tune myself or lip sing during concerts. Besides, I’m not the only one. An old member of Moop, Eric Cartman? He left to make a Christain Rock band called Faith+1. Fucker’s as far from a holy Christain man as you can get.” Craig snorted. “He’s even more in it for the money than I am. At least I care about my fans a little. That man would push them into the fires of Hell himself if he was offered a dime for it.”

“But you’re still faking! I mean,” Tweek ran a hand through his hair, “all of your songs can’t be pandering party songs, can they?”

"I do have one song that wasn't just a cash grab."

"Oh, yeah? Which one?"

"‘Hazel Eyes.'"

Tweek’s face twisted in thought as he tried to recall the song. Craig couldn't blame him if he didn't know it. ‘Hazel Eyes' barely broke the top forty for a week then faded into song obscurity. It was still his favorite, though for bittersweet reasons now.

Craig hummed the first two bars at the start of the chorus before he sang, "Black hair; Hazel eyes, looking at me with love long disguised. Hold my hand where dad and mom can't see. Let me with you and you with me. Please never look away from the future of we, my lovely hazel eyes."

Realization crossed Tweek's face.

"I remember that song. I really liked it, but didn't know the title."

Craig bobbed his head. "Thomas wrote that for me."

"Didn't he write everything for you?"

"No, I mean for me. Thomas...he was my boyfriend. I'm the ‘Hazel Eyes' the song talks about." Craig winced, realizing that bringing up a love song his ex wrote him with the man he just kissed was not his best plan.

"Oh..." Tweek chewed his lip "Wasn't Thomas the ex who..."

"Yeah, that Thomas," Craig confirmed. "I think that's another reason I don't like country much anymore. Everything I sing is by him. It's just salt in the wound."

A hand fell on his shoulder, so Craig lowered his gaze from the ceiling. Tweek smiled softly at him.

"Do you want to write a song with me? I'm not the best. I didn't go to college for it or anything, but maybe together we could make something good."

"So, what I told you isn't a deal breaker?" Craig asked.

Tweek shrugged. "No, I guess not. Maybe I can help you break into other genres, or if you want to leave professional music altogether and be a rocket scientist, I can help with that, too, if you want. I find people are much happier when they can be themselves and follow their passions."

Craig stared at him before chuckling. Tweek was such an amazing person.

---

The night wind was pleasant as Craig and Tweek walked side by side down the street. Craig readjusted his coat. For once, he didn't look like something a western store threw up on: A blue zip-up jacket over an old Moop shirt, black skinny jeans, and a chullo hat with a geometric pattern and yellow tassels.

Tweek mocked the skinny jeans when he first noticed them until Craig pointed out that's what he had on as well. At that point, Tweek blushingly hurried them into the theater to find their seats.

Craig raved excitedly about the play they'd watched. Tweek was so pleased that Craig liked it. He'd suggested it on a whim. It was the first idea his brain could provide him with that wasn't ‘kiss him again, you fool!' He hadn't expected Craig to actually agree, but he hadn't expected Craig to confess he’d grown disenchanted with singing country music, either.

"Alright, so were Elphaba and Glinda low key in love or something? Or am I just reading that subtext now that I'm allowing myself to?" Craig wanted to know, lightly swinging their combined hands while they passed under a streetlamp.

Tweek laughed. "I've never read the book, but in the musical, it's platonic, I think."

"You've never read the Wizard of Oz?" Craig stopped and fixed Tweek with a startled expression.

"What? Of course, I have!" Tweek scoffed. "‘Wicked' is based on a book that’s based on the ‘Wizard of Oz’. I've never read it, so I don't know if Elphaba and Glinda are lovers there or not."

Craig chuckled. "Well, I'm going to assume they fucked at Shiz at least once."

With a chuckle of his own, Tweek began to reply when a new voice cut him off.

"Hey! Hey! Craig, you—cocksucker!”

Tweek flinched, spinning around. Sooner or later, he knew some crazed fan would come to harass them. Why did it have to be tonight though? Even with the skinny jeans thing, the night was going so well!

As the man neared, Tweek’s heart pounded in his ears. They weren't too far from the theater, so there had to be more patrons nearby who could call the police if a fight broke out, right? 

Scanning around, he saw only a huddle of people across the street, though they seemed to pay the couple and the yelling man no mind.

A disheveled man with short, messy hay-colored hair ran up to them and Craig stiffened. The man had bags under his eyes so deep that they rivaled the ones Tweek had when he was in the worst of his teenage anxieties.

"S-sorry!" He stammered, doubling over to pant. "I didn't mean to say--fuck!--that."

Tweek straighten. He wasn't much taller than the man, and nowhere near as tall as Craig, but he could be intimidating if he wanted to be.

"What do you want? We're busy right now," Tweek told him firmly. If they left quickly before this man started shouting at them, the night could still be salvaged.

Craig put his hand on Tweek's shoulder. He turned to him, and Craig shook his head.

With a deep breath first, Craig looked to the man. In an uninterested tone, he greeted, "Hello, Thomas."

Tweek stifled a gasp. Thomas? The Thomas? The one who forced Craig to out himself? That asshole?

Rage bubbled up in Tweek. He gritted his teeth and curled his hands into fists. If this jerk tried to cause trouble he would—

Craig wrapped his hand around his and squeezed without breaking eye contact with Thomas.

Thomas looked at their hands then looked away guiltily.

"Craig, I need to talk to--asshole! I need to talk to you." He chewed his lip. "Please."

"Why? So you can sell whatever I say to a magazine again?" Craig somehow remained coolly detached when he spoke. Thomas winced as if Craig just punched him in the gut.

"Craig, please, I didn't mean to. They had--they had a picture of us and--Balls shit!--we were kissing. How could I reply to that? Mother fucker! There was nothing I could have done! They would have run the picture anyway if I didn't answer. I--shit cock!-- I had to tell the truth!"

Thomas slumped forward, shrinking down like a dog about to be scolded for breaking a vase.

"I'm sorry. I did what I thought was best for you."

All at once, Craig’s aloof attitude broke. A low growl ripped from his throat as he stomped forward a step, getting into Thomas' personal space.

Jabbing a finger at his chest, he snarled, "‘Best for me'? If you wanted what was best for me you would have called me when it happened. Not Red. Me. You would have stood by me and helped me figure this out, but you wussed out on me and didn’t even answer my calls."

Thomas’ breath shook as he took it. He blinked hard, but under the streetlamp's light, he couldn't hide that his eyes were wet. 

A pang of pity hit Tweek's stomach. 

Thomas still loved Craig and probably did do what he thought was best. The cold indifference then a blast of sheering hot fury must have hurt more than Thomas let on.

Tweek reached out and grabbed a tassel of Craig's hat. Pulling it, he managed to make Craig step back.

"I'm sorry. I got scared, Craig! I'm not...Look at me! Who would want to come out dating someone like me?" He whimpered.

"I did — would! I never gave a fuck about your tics or how you looked." He squeezed Tweek's hand so hard, that Tweek bit back a yelp. Craig didn’t notice. "But that doesn't matter now, I guess. Goodbye, Thomas."

Craig pulled Tweek down the street. Tweek looked over his shoulder to see Thomas sigh heavily and slowly walk the way he came. The huddle of people instantly turned their attention to him when he neared. They started to console Thomas, but Craig took Tweek around a corner before he could see more.

"Craig..." Tweek started, "Um...that was—"

"Harsh?" Craig stopped, and Tweek bumped into his back. "Yeah, I know. It's the first time we've seen each other in months. He's been avoiding me. I guess it all came up at once."

Tweek twiddled his thumbs. It wasn't his place to say, but he couldn't hold his tongue on this. "I think he really was sorry."

"Yeah, I know," Craig repeated. "I know." He sighed. "Sorry. I just...I'll forgive him some time, but not right now. He threw my whole life out of sync and didn't even have the guts to help me set it back up. I think I'm entitled to making him squirm a little."

Tweek shrugged nervously. "Yeah, maybe, but you're not going to make him suffer too much, right?" 

At least Thomas seemed to have friends to help him through Craig’s retribution, but Tweek still felt pity for him. Breaks up hurt, he knew that from experience, but all Tweek's breakups had been over issues much more trivial or minor than what Craig and Thomas went through.

"Another couple of weeks or a month, and I'll reach out," Craig muttered after a moment's thought, "but, Thomas and I are over. I couldn't ever trust him fully again." He flashed a smile at Tweek before taking his hands gently in his. "At least, I got one good thing out of this."

He bent down and kissed Tweek, slow and sweet. Tweek chuckled and rested his forehead against his.

"I wish I'd been able to meet you when I was younger. I think you would have made an awesome first boyfriend," Craig said with a lopsided smile. 

"You know, I think I just thought of a great idea for a song if you'd like to head back to my place for the night and work on it," Tweek offered.

"I'd love that."

---

AN: Epilogue posted in a week

#south park #creek #Criag Tucker #Tweek Tweak #Revin #Sp Red #kevin stoley #Fanficiton #multi chapter #sp creek #Sp Thomas

[janeaustentextposts]

What was it about the relationship between Anne and Lady Russell that made Anne trust Lady Russell's judgement about Frederick and his unsuitability when Anne obviously thought (and desired) the exact opposite, to accept him? Was it because she was as good a mother as Anne had? Why would she still call Lady Russell her 'great friend' after essentially wrecking her future hopes? Also supposing Anne wanted her to stick around after she and Frederick married, how do you think he'd react to that?

Okay, as I’ve gotten older I’ve dug deeper into my defense of Lady Russell. Is she a perfect human being? God, no. Are her motives and actions reasonable, given their context? Absolutely.

Anne is still a teenager–a very sheltered one–when she meets Frederick Wentworth. For all her virtues, Lady Russell knows damn well that Anne hasn’t really been out in society enough to become widely appreciated and socially adept. And this is a whirlwind romance–a total of three months passes between their first meeting and their final (for eight years) parting. Lady Russell is a snob, yes, but every point she raises has a certain kind of validity–they know NOTHING about Wentworth or his people, apart from his brother being a curate who is almost equally new to the region. Wentworth’s own traits are as evident as they can be over a brief acquaintance. He has no money, his career is risky as hell and this is a very unstable period for peace between England and foreign powers. There was the American war, then war with France, and then MORE war with France, and–hint–there’s gonna be lots more war with France. Wentworth is said to be lucky, and he knows it, and he trusts it. Whatever his insane charisma levels might convince Anne of, Lady Russell is not a bad or wrong person for feeling that luck can and will run out and isn’t something to build hopes on. Lady Russell has no reason for repressing her opinions when they come from genuine worry for Anne’s future with this totally unknown quantity who has swooped into town and charmed her so thoroughly. Sir Walter is openly snobby about the lowering nature of the connection, but Lady Russell’s objections are far more practical.

Wentworth is that dude in leather on a Harley revving the engine and telling Anne to hop on.

Anne isn’t stupid, either. Whatever she feels for Wentworth, Lady Russell is not quite a mother-figure (though there’s overlap and complexity, I will allow,) but also a friend. And Anne doesn’t have many of those–certainly none with so deep and long a connection as Lady Russell. So when your best and oldest friend in the whole world is legitimately deeply concerned for you and a HUGE change you’re about to make? You listen. Marriage is for life. Marriage IS your life, when you’re a genteel woman who cannot respectably earn her own living.

Also, Lady Russell convinces Anne that to reject Wentworth is ultimately for Wentworth’s own good, too–we aren’t explicitly told why, but it’s indicated that this is the primary motivation which ultimately sways Anne to end the engagement. For herself, Anne is still somewhat willing to take on the risks laid out by Lady Russell–but she also doesn’t wish to be a burden on Wentworth when his career is at a precarious point. Prize-money being how a naval officer might make a steady fortune, the need to support a wife and any children (particularly after Sir Walter has refused to settle a dowry on Anne, if she marries Wentworth,) might drive a man of Wentworth’s nature to run deadly risks in order to take enemy ships. This, I’m guessing, is Anne’s reasoning for why marrying Wentworth now, when she knows she will bring no money to the union, seems increasingly like a poor idea.

Anne does desire to marry Wentworth–but not at any cost. Whatever she might later come to feel and realize about her judgement and Lady Russell’s judgement and the choices that were made, there were a LOT of Good Reasons™ against marrying Wentworth.

Like, IT COULD END SO, SO BADLY.

As to wrecking her hopes, I think Anne owned her decision, and that’s part of why she’s so faded and miserable–she only blames herself.

Which…and it pains me to say this because Anne Elliot is bae…she’s not…wrong? Lady Russell advised her, as a friend, and gave decent warnings about very real risks and concerns with this match. Lady Russell was not unreasonable, and Lady Russell had no power other than to give her advice. Sir Walter is holding the purse-strings and being a total dick for no reason other than snobbery. At least Lady Russell gives a fuck what happens to Anne.

Wentworth is, of course, pissed af, and our sympathies are sort of with him because we know the frustrations of being unable to make people see things your way, but logic is simply not on his side, here. It’s his persuasion of Anne against Lady Russell’s, and he loses. Maybe that’s part of why he later claims to want a woman who knows her own mind…but only when that mind aligns with what he wants. Also why he principally blames Anne, as well, though he of course knows Lady Russell was the primary influence pointing out all the vulnerabilities in the marriage to Anne and so he resents that she said anything at all. But as Anne owns the decision to break the engagement, he lets her.

And let’s not forget that they could have gotten back together a mere two years later, had it not been for Wentworth’s resentment. A little patience and some secure funding and a show of long-term fidelity, and Lady Russell’s objections and Anne’s fears could have been done away with, then, if Wentworth had been even a little yielding in his pride. He has only himself to blame for six of those years of miserable separation.

I think in the maturity of their later relationship, Wentworth would come to forgive and appreciate Lady Russell, and Anne doesn’t blame Lady Russell (and is right not to. LADY RUSSELL DID NOTHING WRONG.) If Wentworth was going to be the sort of man to pissily forbid Anne to remain in close contact with her oldest and dearest friend when it’s primarily their own choices which caused them grief, even after they have reconciled, he’s not a man who is worthy of her. He may be away from England for long periods of time, and Anne will likely then have great need of close friends and wise counsel. It might take him a little while to get the toxicity towards Lady Russell out of his system after holding on to it for so many years, but isn’t the point of the story kind of that having the grace to admit you were wrong and move on from past mistakes is the healthier way to live and love?

#Ask Me Anything Austen-Adjacent #AMAAA #Jane Austen #Persuasion #gif

[kjs-s]

French leave

Pairing  Steve trevor x reader

Fandom Wonder Woman

Summary Steve’s mission goes wrong and he has to ask for help from a nearby traveling circus

Prompts Wheel of fortyne tarror card - Upright - good luck, karma, life cycles, destiny, a turning point, Circus AU, “I'm pretty good at providing distractions.” 

Word Count: 3260

Warnings: None i can think of

A/N: This is my entry for @goingknowherewastaken and @jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets Divine me a masterpiece challenge. I chose the wheel of fortune and I used it upright.

Modern AU Diana is his boss and Etta is another spy in this one. The inspiration behind it was Madagascar 3 ans Macgyver.      

Steve had spent the last hour shopping for a suit in numerous shops around Paris. He had flown in town that same morning, landing at a private airport so that any French officials wouldn’t notice him entering the country. Being a pilot made his job as a spy easier since he could fly his own plane anywhere he needed to be. The mission Diana had sent him to was a very risky and dangerous one yet he was one of the most qualified people in the service.

 ‘’Thank you for being early Steve. We don’t have much time so I will need you to read the file when you go home tonight. You would be leaving tomorrow to get settle in.’’ Diana gave him the file and started a video from an armed robbery in Bern.

 ‘’I don’t understand D. Why am I looking into a robbery that already happened? I thought the agents that you sent to Switzerland told you the robbers escaped. Do you think I will find any information they missed?’’ He skimmed over the case file his coworkers have been working on.

 ‘’No, Charlie and Sameer did an exceptional job despite the lack of evidence. They managed to figure out where the thieves will strike next.’’ She switched the camera footage with three invitations. One to the gala at the Louvre to promote a new exhibition based on World War 2, one in Turkey for a jewelry exhibition and one of an international expo in Dubai.

 ‘’They are certain the next target is one of those events. They will take the ones in Asia and suggested that you are the best qualified for the Paris one. You know more about World War 2 than anyone else in the organization after all.’’

‘’So, my mission will be to do what, stake out the place to identify whether the thieves will be there or not? Disguised as a waiter I assume.’’ Steve despised intel gathering missions in which all he had to do was watch and guard a place. He always asked Diana for something more challenging.

‘’Nothing like that. You will go to the gala as a guest. We are always working on an ID to help you pass as a historian who specializes in World War 2. The museum has invited many historians to attend and I know it won’t be hard for you to fit in. The difficult part of your assignment is that we need you to steal the painting.’’

It took some time for Steve to process what Diana had just told him. Apparently, the mission was for him to steal the painting from the museum before the thieves show up and hide it inside the museum. Charlie and Sameer would be doing the exact same thing on their respective missions. After the authorities would be notified they would search everyone whoever looks suspicious, the spy there would put a tracker on them and apprehend them when they reach their hideout. As for the hidden items, Diana was in charge of calling an anonymous tip as to where their whereabouts are the next day.

 Steve was looking around trying to strike up a conversation with any of the other people at the gala. He has done many solo missions in the past nevertheless being there without Etta still felt a little strange. She is always a pleasure to have around and it looks less weird for a couple to sit around a talk. However, since she was working on a job in Monte Carlo Steve had to improvise. So far, he had talked about his fake job to a professor from Cambridge and listen to an author describe his latest book in much more details that he cared for.

Finally, after two hours he found an opportunity to head towards the back of the exhibition alone. He quickly made it to the control room and took out the guards there. Knocking them unconscious was easy for him and he noticed from the cameras that the corridor, which the painting was hanging on, was empty. Running towards it immediately was the first mistake he made on that mission. Not due to the guards woke up but because he didn’t do anything to not get caught on camera. If Etta were there, she would have made the cameras run on a loop for an hour to show the corridor empty still Steve didn’t think of that.

His second mistake was not double-checking what security measures the French had taken. Diana had informed him about the ones he would have to face getting to the painting. Yet nobody knew about the alarm the curator had put on the frame the day before. Therefore, when Steve took the painting off the wall it sounded and he found himself running towards the exit. He assumed someone must have seen him before since the guards were already chasing him minutes afterward.

He carefully left the painting in a closet, not the safest option and not the hiding place he was intent to use, and he went back to the gala. He removed his tie and put sunglasses on however that didn’t work. He started running once again outside the Louvre and entered the Jarvin gardens. He meant to visit them during his stay but he had not studied where he could go to hide from the guards.

Luckily, he saw a traveling circus and hoped he could lose them in the crowd. As he was running, he kept looking behind him to check if the security guards were still chasing after him. He had thrown his glasses away although that didn’t achieve the goal Steve wanted. He tried communicating with Diana who was looking out the museum from their headquarters. She advised Steve to lose the guards without being compromised and that was the right decision since the thieves didn’t end up attacking the Louvre. They were in the jewelry exhibition in Turkey and Charlie did a great job. Instead of just stealing the jewelry he replaced them with fake and made sure the alarm would sound off while they were reaching the case. He tackled them and pointed them out to the authorities who were able to pin the other robberies on them as well.

As for Steve while he was running, he was trying in the meanwhile to lose his tail and remove his suit jacket. As a result, he collided with you and tackled you to the ground interrupting a conversation you had with your fellow performers.

‘’I am terribly sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.’’ He helped you up and in the process tried to hide behind your friends. He didn’t even consider that you might not speak English and that he had to switch to French.

‘’You are not looking right now either. Is something wrong? Do you need help?’’ You looked towards the direction he came from and saw two men in suits looking around.

‘’Oh you are speaking English, and yes, do you see those two men over there with the black suits? They wrongly believe I stole something from them and I am hiding so they can lose me. Could it be possible to let me hide here with you?’’

‘’We are having a show in a while. However, before I start I can distract them and give you enough time to go to that trailer over there. The one with the gold star. It’s mine and you will be safe there. Don’t worry, I'm pretty good at providing distractions.’’

You hoped you weren’t committing a crime by harboring criminal but after years on the circus, you felt like you could read people easily. Steve seemed like a trustworthy person and he didn’t seem like he was carrying anything he had stolen. Besides, your trailer had nothing valuable and worth stealing in.

You turned to your friends and pointed towards the guards, telling them how they looked like as if they weren’t having fun. You tapped your best friend and fellow acrobat on the shoulder and asked her to join you. The two of you stood in front of the two men who had concealed their weapons upon entering the circus grounds.

You spoke to them hoping you weren’t doing anything stupid trusting the stranger so much.

‘’Gentlemen you seem like you haven’t planned to visit us tonight. We haven’t had anyone wearing a suit here since we started. Are you interested in our acrobat show that is about to start or are you here to look around and maybe play some games?’’ You smiled sweetly at them like a salesperson trying to promote the circus. You hated when the ringmaster wanted any of his employees to act that way but now it was necessary.

‘’Thanks for the information ladies. We will look around a bit and we will come to enjoy your show afterward.’’ The guards who spoke signaled the other to split up and they checked their pockets fearing you had pickpocketed them.

You noticed Steve giving you a thumbs up from inside the trailer and let the guards go saying you would have to warm up for the performance. Tonight you would be only on the trapeze because the show the previous night was tough on your arms and you needed to rest a little.

While you were taking a bow, you spotted Steve sneaking out. You grabbed a coat and boots and went after him.

‘’Hey you, wait up.’’ You noticed his surprise and how he made sure nobody else was around.

‘’Hi. I don’t remember your name right now still thank you so much for the assistance. I really appreciate it. I’m afraid I have to go now.’’

‘’First of all, we didn’t properly introduce ourselves. I’m (Y/N)…..

‘’Steve’’ He tried to shake your hand forgetting the urgency of the situation he was on.

‘’Nice to meet you. Would you mind telling me what that was all about? Those two were clearly security guards from the museum. You stole something from the Louvre didn’t you?’’ You were trying to figure out what was happening despite your earlier assumption that he must have done nothing wrong. You were drawn into his eyes and due to your gift of reading people, Steve seemed like a genuinely decent guy.

‘’I stole nothing. They only thought I did because I accidentally tripped and lifted myself dangerously close to touching a painting. You can search me if you don’t believe me. Where you do think I would have something I stole, in my pocket?’’ He emptied them showing you that he only had a phone on him that he had called Diana with earlier. She had told him about the thieves’ imprisonment and to lay low for an hour before flying back to London.

‘’You could have hidden it somewhere. In addition, why are you trying to leave without being seen by anyone, even the person who helped you earlier?’’

‘’I am only trying to go back home. I flew to Paris a few days ago with my own plane and my boss needs me back tomorrow.’’ He noticed you hesitation and explained that he is a pilot who is allowed to fly as a hobby from time to time. You continued being apprehensive so he suggested going with him to the private airport.

It was only a short walk nonetheless; as soon as you made it, there you encountered an unpleasant sight. Apparently, Steve had somehow been compromised because the plane he had used was now a pile of metal scraps.

‘’I can’t believe this.’’ He kicked one of the pieces of metal that from the look of it used to be part of the engine.

‘’I’m sorry about your plane Steve. I’m sure your boss will understand. Moreover, if there are no flights out to wherever you need to go, you can always catch the first one early in the morning. Also, if you don’t have any money for a hotel you are welcome to stay with us.’’

Steve was moved by your kindness. He noticed your uncertainty about him only an hour ago and the fact that you were nice enough to help him figure things out made him want to reveal everything to you. So, instead of lying about company policy providing him to fly on another company he told you about being a spy.

‘’So you hid the painting within the museum just in case some actual thieves want to steal it? That was a risky yet brilliant plan. Diana seems like an excellent boss.’’ You were impressed by their adventures and how he talked about her with adoration.

‘’She is, taught me most of the things I know apart from flying. (Y/N) did you mean it when you said I could stay on your trailer tonight? I don’t want to be a burden.’’

‘’You won’t be. Nevertheless, if someone asks, you just joined us and I’m training you as a new acrobat. From some of the story you narrated, I guess you can pull it off.’’

The crew of the circus welcomed Steve warmly the next day and informed him that they were about to leave Paris in three days. Steve couldn’t argue since he informed Diana about his problem and she had no other agent who could help him out. Even if it would take him a little more than a week to reach London.

The first day was uneventful with you giving Steve a tour of the circus during the day and had him observe your preparation for the show. Your arms were no longer in pain and you trained normally on every number you were good at. Steve was impressed by your flexibility and strength that he took a video of you to send to Diana. From the moment you came up with the story of him training to be an acrobat to join you, he thought you would make a great spy.

The only issue with your lie was that Steve couldn’t do acrobatics to save his life. Every time he tried during your stay in Paris, he ended up with bruises

‘’Don’t worry we are leaving tomorrow and I’m sure while we are on the road we can find another skill for you. The ringmaster wants to see if you can be in one of the shows in Rouen or Calais. Let’s see what we can come up with.’’ You reached to get a pen and paper to write down all the occupation he could do.

‘’I can do that.’’ You turned to see him staring at the knife throwers with a joyful expression. He was worried that if he didn’t find something he would be in trouble.

The rest of the days went by quickly with Steve being a part of the knife throwing team. He was excellent at it and he became friends with everyone on the crew. You were proud of him even though you knew it wouldn’t last. He loved his job as a spy and nothing could change that.

Steve hadn’t thought about what to say to everyone when they reached London. Etta called him when she returned from her mission to ask how he was and he revealed to her that the thought of not going back had crossed his mind. She was supportive of whatever he wanted to do. However, Diana was as impressed with you as he was and Etta had heard her saying how you would be a great asset in their team.

‘’We will be in London in a few hours. We will set at Bedford Park so you can arrange how you will go back to your headquarters or your home from there. We will stay for a week if you want to come and visit or watch a performance.’’ You knew this day would come and you didn’t want him to see how sad you were. You had grown fond of him within the short period of time you spent together and you wished you could at least be in touch.

‘’(Y/N) I need to tell you something.’’ He made sure nobody could hear you so that they won’t find out about him being a spy or that he was trying to take you away.

‘’From the first time I saw your skills, I was impressed by you. I took a video of your training and send it to my boss. I was hoping she would agree that you have what it takes to work for us. On top of that, I really like you. I would hate to stay here without you on my side. Please don’t say anything right now. I will give you my number and if you are interested, you can call me anytime you want. And before you argue with me I thought about staying here and join the circus with you but there are criminals I still need to catch.’’ He wrote down his number, gave you a hug and left to find the ringmaster so he would quit.

Two night afterward, you still hadn’t called so Steve was certain you wouldn’t. However, he still missed you and decided to watch you perform on the first show in London. Diana and Etta asked if they could come along. Steve didn’t notice the look the two women shared when they left to get ready for the circus.

None of them saw you around before the show to speak with you. That made sense when during the show you worked a lot more than any of your friends did.

‘’Thank you all for joining us tonight. We will be here for a long time. Having said that, this show tonight is special to us. One of our best acrobats who had been here with us for years just had her last show. (Y/N) please come here to take a bow for everyone.’’ You were so touched by the gesture. You had spent the day saying goodbye to your friends and promising to visit them, yet you had no idea they would give you flowers and praise you in front of everyone.

Steve was so stunned that Etta had to pinch him to react. When everyone else got up to leave, he ran over to you.

‘’Hey Steve what are you doing here? I thought our official meeting would be tomorrow. Right, Diana?’’

‘’Yes, nine in the morning. Don’t be late we need to appoint someone as your trainer before becoming a spy. Probably Etta will be right for the job.’’ She winked at you and left you to go back to Steve who was greeting the other performers. You asked him to come and find you when he was done so you can pack together.

‘’I had no idea you were about to come work for us. When did you decide that?’’

‘’A few hours after you left. I called you but Diana answered it and arranged for me to start work tomorrow. She said she would bring you up to speed. Guessing from your expression, she wanted to surprise you. So, surprise, we will be working together.’’

Working as a spy with Steve turned out exactly as you anticipated it. You loved being his friend and after two months of working together, you decided you could see yourself as a couple. Once again, Diana and Etta knew everything before the two of you but it was Etta who won the bet about who would confess their feelings first. It was you.

@writing-journeyx   @sprinkleofhappinessuniverse@ohyesmarvel@agentpeggicarter@buckyofthemyscira @romantichen @once-upon-an-imagine @locke-writes@lucetheding @marveliskindacool@captainrogerss   @jurassicbarnes@uncomfortable-writers@theassetseyeliner@sgtbxckybxrnes @thetherianthropydaily@dresupi@caplansteverogers @captainrogerss@dirajunara-archive@imamotherfuckingstar-lord @outside-the-government@thefanficfaerie@admiralamott@yallneedtrek@goingknowherewastaken @girl-next-door-writes @janeykath318@kaitymccoy123 @musikat18

#DivineMeAMasterpieceChallenge #steve trevor x reader #steve trevor imagine #wonder woman #modern au #my writing

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Wrought Iron Machine (Part 23)

I swear to God I spell Ghazan’s name differently every single time but like who needs proofreading. *Shrug*

Azula thinks herself to be recklessly ambitious at best and something of a flat out fool at worst. She dresses herself in tribal wear. Around her neck and in her hair, she wears a splendid plume of bright red and yellow feathers with a dash of orange here and there. Equally adorned in feathers is a gold fringed bra with many beads and dangling gems. It is a risky apparel choice for a high scale event. But Fire Of Agni is high risk--everything about them. In way of a skirt she wears an authentic Sun Warrior piece--all four of them will wear such. They will all perform barefoot and with a simple golden band around their biceps.

Her hair is tied up in a high ponytail, fashioned into a golden cuff. In her bangs are a few wooden beads. Under her eyes are three horizontal  finger trails of golden face paint.

Zuko stands at the opposite end of the room, entirely topless, exposing his new chest piercings. Azula had questioned that decisions but ultimately it is up to him what he has pierced. He too has weaved some feathers into his hair. Alongside the vertical face paint over his unscarred eye is a similar trail down his chest.

Trying to use her voice as little as possible, Azula motions TyLee over. The girl skips over. She has gone overboard on the feathers. Azula pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. “You’re going to have to pluck some of those feathers.” She instructs in a whisper. She helps TyLee pick a few feathers from her braid and her outfit. She replaces them with a wood-bead necklace.

“Can you give me a hand?” Mai asks from across the room. She instructs Zuko where to weave the shells into her hair, muttering something about how she’ll have the stylists fix it later. She waves off Zuko’s reluctance with a flick of a wrist decorated with a bamboo and palm leaf bracelet. She fingers the shark tooth necklace Zuko gifted to her.

After fussing a tad more with TyLee’s outfit, Azula turns her attention back to her own appearance. Her stylist finally emerges with overly large gold-plate earrings. With careful hands they fix them into her ears and begin brushing her hair. She watches the other members of their makeup artist team get to work on the other three. She instructs the man doing her hair to give it some waves.

“Oh you look so, so cute, Azula!”

She is going for fierce, perhaps even a little feral. But she doesn’t protest, she has to save her voice for more pressing things. Instead she nods in way of a thank you.

“You all look so cute!” TyLee claps her hands together. She fishes around in her personal bag and snaps a few photos. Azula frowns, she wasn’t picture read. TyLee throws her arms around her and snuggles her.

“Careful with my make up.” Azula says softly. “We don’t have time to do it all over again.”

“Oh sorry.” TyLee loosens her hold.

As soon as she runs up to Mai, Zuko approaches her. “Are you sure you want to do this? You can just play your guitar and TyLee can fill in for you.”

Azula shakes her head. “I need to do this Zuko.”

She sees him bite the inside of his lip. She is worrying him.

“I’ll be fine.” Azula insists as as one of the makeup artists adds a few final touches. “I promise.”

Their crew packs up their tools and Azula motions for her bandmates to stand before her.

When all is said and done, Azula is satisfied. She has worked hard to design their costumes and they have come together just as perfectly as she had planned. Perhaps, better, with their hair and makeup in order.

Her content smile fades.

She can’t help but feel as though they’ve gotten all dressed up for nothing.

.oOo.

Kuvira stands in her dressing room, her stylist just having finished fashioning her hair into a elegant and braided low side bun. It had been tricky to find the perfect outfit so last minute, having something custom made had been out of the question. So instead she wears something she found a second-hand store of all places. Deep forest green in color and with a high, black collar. She had handed it over to the band designer and let the woman and her team make tweaks and adjustments. To make it into something more unique. The woman hasn’t failed her. Her stitchwork is impressive with lovely embroidered patterns. She has taken it upon herself to adorn the hem and sleeves with black gems and sequins. All in all it is a rather ritzy gown.

Baatar chooses to wear the dress suit and top hat from the music video. Their designer pins a few broaches to the left chest area; their logo, a guitar, a saxaphone, and a music note among other small symbols.

She slips into the dress and asks Baatar to help her with the zipper. To her relief it goes up without a hitch. She smooths the fabric down and drapes her arms over Baatar’s shoulders. He kisses her on the cheek, sending her teardrop earrings swaying. “You’re going to do wonderful tonight.”

Kuvira rubs his shoulders. “As long as you’re here I will.”

The man flushes and rubs the back of his head. She intends to draw the small moment out.  But P’Li barges in. “Have you seen my monocle anywhere?”

“Have you tried your own dressing room?” Kuvira quirks a brow.

“That’s the first place I checked.” She grumbles, pushing at her conductors hat. The V shaped tail of her suit flap about as she picks her way through the room. Her dress shoes click loudly on the ground.

“I found it!” Ghazan calls. He gives P’Li a second to look over before tossing the eyepiece to her. The man standing in the doorway looks more suave than he has in a long while in his long tailcoat with his beard and long sweep of hair combed and styled nicely for a change. He has a few copper pieces threaded into his hair and beard, she could imagine that Ming fancied it.

The woman appears next to him clad in a pair of over-large goggles and a pair of loose fitting overalls. In the pocket are a faux wrench and a faux hammer, they will serve as her drumsticks tonight.

Fashion-wise they are at their best, they will match well with the mechanic, orchestral atmosphere they are trying to create while Kuvira does her best to represent the jazz side of the band.

With luck, they will bring their crowd into a new world, at least for the twenty or so minutes it takes them to play their introduction and sing their three songs.

Kuvira checks her makeup a final time and asks her stylist to highlight her beauty mark a little more as another works to curl a few more strands of loose hair. She inspects the other three and asks if they have any final requests.

“Make my face look more dusty.” Ming instructs. A good idea if she is going to be playing a mechanic.

The stylists take a step back and Kuvira takes it with them. She observes the band as a whole, finding herself satisfied. She goes to join them and motions for their photographer to do his thing. The camera flashes.

Kuvira picks up her decorative cane and leads them to the designated seating area.

.oOo.

They watched an hour’s worth of bands some of them more pleasing than others. Though she absolutely hated some of them, stylistically--Kyoshi’s Power Fist to name one--but regardless they were all undoubtedly talented. Kyoshi’s Power Fist, if nothing else had been unique with their corpse paint and guttural vocals. They were among the new debuts. It is the very same category Fire Of Agni are about to perform under.  

Azula is dissatisfied to know that, that meant she will be among the first few bands to perform. But they are the last of the newer bands. With luck the crowd has been warmed up enough.

Standing behind the curtain she is horrifically nervous, maybe even downright terrified. But they need this. They need this more than anything or they will have nothing. Nothing but a smug Ozai taunting them. She is a mess up away from having to resort to begging the man to take her back.

“You’re gonna do great.” TyLee gives her a quick kiss. On a normal day it would have washed the nerves away.

“I hope so.”

She hears the announcement and they are on stage. It puts a dismal pang in her heart to leave the introduction fully to Zuko. “It took a lot to get here.” He announces. “When we started out we could barely scrape together a simple music mover. We were just a small candle.”

The crowd cheers.

“Now we’re here.” He pauses. “And our Fire Of Agni can’t be extinguished.”

The knot returns to her belly; perhaps water and bad press can’t put them out. But a small cyst can smother them completely.

“Get ready Southern Air Sounds, because we…”

“Are the flame!” The crowd chants over him.

Without missing a beat, Azula tears into the first song that they have written. Normally she would save that one for last, but Agni forbid she can’t make it through the whole show. She wants to start strong.

The guitar wails in her hands, in tune with Mai’s bass. TyLee is surrounded by a collection of drums both standard and tribal. If all went according to plan, her drum display will be surrounded by a ring of dancing flame.

So far things are going well, she is forcing out her screams, powerful as ever while Zuko provides backing vocals and a steady flow of fire. Halfway through she sends a thin trail of flames in the direction of TyLee. The wall dances around their drummer as she wails on the cymbals. With each hit, Azula and Zuko flare the flames higher until the song fades out.

The crowd is frantic with cheers. So much so that Zuko almost can’t announce their second song. One of their newer ones. Azula passes her guitar to him so that she can move through a Sun Warrior traditional belly dance. It is something of a cop out, but she likes to think it a clever one. Fire Of Agni has never performed an instrumental version of any of their songs. Not until now. But it leaves a critical window of rest for Azula’s tortured vocal cords.

She tries not to dwell on the injury as TyLee begins. Instead she sets the scene, trying her best to imitate what her music mover had in terms of the haunting blue lighting. TyLee is doing a stunning job of creating a foreboding sound. It is a low and rhythmic pounding of a large fox-deer hide drum. TyLee beats upon it slow and steady with a single drumstick nearly as large as the drum itself. Next to her stands a newly hired woman. She is draped in a feathered cloak with a shekere. Every few beats, the woman gives it a shake. For herself, Azula occasionally gives her rainstick a shift. With each beat a new cloaked figure emerges. One stands with a kora gitar another stands with a small balafon. TyLee has worked tirelessly to teach others to play djembe drums and bongos among other things. TyLee ends the ominous intro with a hit on a gong. A moment of pause and Zuko and Mai begin with their guitar and bass respectively.

Azula has worked just as tirelessly as TyLee to learn this traditional dance inside and out. The beads in her hair smack against her neck and back as she goes through the twirling parts of the dance. The gems stones glimmer across her middle as she shifts and rolls her waistline. The crowd is wholly quiet, they listen more closely than they have in a long while. Towards the end of the song, the guitar and bass fall silent.  The song tapers off into a rhythmic beating of the drums. And Zuko comes to dance with her. A highly intimate dance. Close with his body pressed against hers and his hands trailing over her torso.

That is when she spies Ozai in the crowd. The man crosses his arms, his face the picture of disgust.

Azula ignores the man, her performance is better than it ever has been and she isn’t going to sabotage it just to make the man uncomfortable.

By the end of their dance the room falls into complete silence again. They leave no room for cheers and get right into their final song. The song Azula has been dreading. The one with the shrillest shriek midway through.

Her voice seems to have already reached its limit by the end of the first chorus. Her mind screams at her to cut the show short. But ambition takes over. She moves into the tricky climax of the song. She lets out a scream but it isn’t the one she had in mind. Her voice cracks and pain sears through her throat.  

It is instinct to try to cry out in pain.

She fights back tears.

And she makes a mistake.

She looks into the crowd.

The smirk on Ozai’s face is wickedly smug.

Azula’s stomach lurches. He has come to watch her fall and he is getting the show he paid for. Her voices has failed her.

She has failed her band.

Failed herself.

.oOo.

Kuvira cringes at the sound that tears from her rival’s throat. Reflexively, she grips Baatar’s hand. It isn’t normal. It is pained and horrible. And she feels some sort of secondhand agony.

There is something overwhelmingly unsettling about watching the poor girl get escorted by a team of paramedics from the stage. It is a wonder the girl is keeping herself together. Deep down, Kuvira knows that the girl will break behind the curtains.

She looks to Baatar who wears a sympathetic grimace.

But the fire isn’t extinguished. The band pushes on with the girl’s brother taking her parts and the drummer taking his. Kuvira is impressed with their quick thinking. Though it leaves her with a sneaking suspicion that they were well aware that the girl was having vocal trouble.

Kuvira is left with way too much time to dwell on it. She finds it hard to pay attention to any of the following bands. She can’t focus on Tears Of Yue, the new band she had been looking forward to. She hopes that she will calm by the time Wan Shi Tong’s Waltz, the very band that inspired her to start her own, took to the stage. They are on after her band, she is thankful for that. With luck she will be able to watch them and enjoy them in full without having to worry about her nerves.

For the time though, they are frayed and frenzied. She simply can’t get the sound of the Fire Of Agni girl’s faltering scream out of her mind. Out of her ears.

She forces it to the back of her mind as she is beckoned backstage.

Wrought Iron Machine is one of the last bands to perform. It is both intimidating and thrilling. She knows how these shows work, they start with lesser known bands to warm up the crowd and move into the esteemed and renowned ones. She is starstricken to be among them. Only Tui & La, Chong And The Nomads, and Wan Shi Tong’s Waltz perform after them.

It settles her anxiousness some to know that, even if they don’t win, they are famous enough to perform nearly last. They are on in ten minutes. That leaves her with ten minutes to sooth her baby. She is under the impression that her own anxiousness has reached the child-to-be. She rubs circles on her belly in an attempt to get the baby to stop squirming so much. It takes Baatar kissing her belly and murmuring something soft and cooing to sooth the babe. Baatar rests his hands on her waist and presses his forehead to hers until they are called onto the stage.

They have a few extra minutes as their full orchestra plays through an extended version of what will be their newest album.

“Let’s kick some fuckin’ ass everyone!” P’Li shouts, as Ghazan pops a bottle. He fills all of their glasses until he comes to Kuvira, “sorry, none for you.” With a boyish grin he skips over her glass and fills Baatar’s.

“Fuck you too, Gazhan.” Kuvira jests.

“Here.” Ming holds out one of her watery arms. “Drink.”

“Gee, thanks, Ming.”

Baatar chuckles.   

They set their glasses to the side. P’Li and Gazhan make their way on stage first. Ming waits for the claps to die down before following them. And then She and Baatar wait for round two to die off. She lets the venue go completely quiet before they walk, hand in hand, onto the stage. Her cane thumps on the floor and echos.

She skips the greetings and goes right into her operatic introduction. After another moment of quiet Baatar and P’Li start in with their lead and rhythm guitar and Ghazan follows with his bass and Ming with her drums. The orchestra doesn’t begin until the chorus.

The set itself is a chaotic flurry of moving cogs, wheels, and spokes. A fully functioning and whirring machine that spits smoke and sparks at designated intervals. It doesn’t take on a particular shape, it is more or less a collection of clanging parts that look aesthetically pleasing.                                                                                                            

The crowd is hyper with an energetic buzz that they had lacked since Baatar’s near departure. Kuvira grins at the crowd. Their first song comes to a close and her nervousness give way to exilheration. “It’s wonderful to be here again.” Kuvira leaves a pause for applause. “How long has it been, Baatar?”

“Ten years.” He replies.

“Ten years.” Kuvira repeats. “Ten years since we first came here. We were just a rookie group.” She runs her fingers through her hair. “Raava, I didn’t expect us to get this far.” The smile doesn’t leave her face. Because she has made it, they have made it. She wishes that her childhood self--even her teenage self--could see her. “For a second I thought that…”

Baatar rubs her back. “But we have. And of course we have the lot of you to thank for giving us enough attention to land a spot here.”

“And for supporting us despite our…” she considers her words. “Our mishap.”

The crowd gives another uniformed cheer.

“You guys kick ass!” P’Li announces.

Ghazan pulls out another bottle. “If you got a drink, you better drink with us. Most of us anyways, Kuvira still isn’t invited.”

This time the crowd gives a few light-hearted boo’s.

“Pregnant.” Ming points out.

Another round of cheering. “Congratulations!” She can’t place where in the crowd the booming voice has come from. Kuvira gives a soft laugh, looking down to cover a light blush, and wipes some locks out of her face. “Thank you.”  

Ghazan finishes his toast and they enter their second song. She scans the crowd for the frontman of Wan Shi Tong’s Waltz. It sends a pleasant trill up and down her spine to see the man nodding his approval at their new take on jazz. It is surreal to have her idol staring up at her with approval.

She unravels her braid and tosses her head back for the final note.

She doesn’t think too much of it, moving into their final song just feels so natural. She may not be able to dance with her baby bump in the way, but she can still give the crowd a show. She puts extra care into her vocals; working with flawlessly through more difficult vibratos.

She adds a flare of metalbending from shifting platforms up and down for she and her bandmates to stand upon to crafting herself a case of stairs to lean on when the baby started acting up.

Normally with a crowd so energetic and lively she would enter it. But her management and doctors had advised against so she leaves that to Ghazan and P’Li, settling for simply brushing fingers with front row attendees.

Ghazan and P’Li finish out the song from within the crowd. The last note echos about the venue only to be swallowed up by cheering and hollering. Kuvira is grinning rather uncontrollably. Perhaps even laughing. One hand falls to her baby bump and the other holds her microphone to her lips. She manages a few thank you’s before they are motioned off of the stage.

They have made it.

Victory or none, they have left an impression.

#Avatar #Legend Of Korra #Kuvira #Azula #Baatar #Zuko #P'Li #TyLee #Ming-Hua #Mai #Ghazan #Fanfiction

[vagrantblvrd]

Infinite Possibilities (1/1)

Summary: When it comes down to it, it’s not that Ryan and Jeremy refuse to tell the others how they met, no. It's more that depending on who asks (and how and why and when), the story changes.

Or: Five ways the Battle Buddies didn't meet and one they did.

Notes: Inspired by exchanges with @miss-ingno and YorkandDelta who wanted to know how the Battle Buddies met in this AU and gave me the idea for this ridiculousness. <333!

AO3

Gavin’s the first one to ask.

Too curious for his own good, and takes the opportunity provided him when Lester calls them in for a risky job he claims he can’t trust anyone else with.

It’s an odd decision on Lester’s part, bringing the four of them in on this, considering the history they have with each other.

Not quite allies, not quite enemies, and not quit sure which side they should land on because there’s gut instinct and stupid human want.

Jeremy’s wary around Michael and fondly exasperated with Gavin. Michael’s eyeing all of them like he can’t believe his fucking luck to be stuck with so many idiots. Gavin is vaguely amused by the whole situation because aside from Lester, everyone here has tried to kill him at least once. And Ryan -

Gavin still unsettles him. Something about him makes it easy for Ryan to let his guard down around him even though he knows better. (Los Santos is a good teacher in that regard.)

“The two of you seem to know each other,” Gavin says, examining the array of weapons Lester’s acquired for their use.

If he was anyone else, Ryan would think it’s an idle comment. Just a simple observation, like what a nice day it is or my goodness, Lester certainly did get them a lot of explosives, didn’t he?

But this is Gavin. The only person to survive the Vagabond, extenuating circumstances or not.

Ryan shrugs, tugging a grenade out of Gavin’s hands because no.

He remembers what Gavin can do with those, and he’d like to keep his car in one piece this time if it’s not to much to ask for. (It really, really shouldn’t be.)

“You could say that,” he agrees, because Gavin’s not wrong.

========

Ryan’s separated from his squad on an operation when he runs into a kid in the same boat.

Young, probably straight out of boot. Clean-cut with his jaw set, and a good little soldier who has no damn clue what happened to set things off like this but damned if he isn’t going to do his job. (Because orders, and it hurts remembering how young Ryan was when he figured out the people giving them weren’t always right.)

This mess isn’t his fault, though, and Ryan really should have listened to his gut on this one, that bad feeling he had during the briefing and every moment after that up to the moment things went to hell on them.

Bad intel, and part of him wants to think it wasn’t intentional, but considering how quickly things went to shit on them – how prepared they were for his squad - he knows it was.

“Landmines that way,” Ryan says, and feels a twinge of guilt as he takes ammo off fallen soldier.

One of theirs, maybe even this kid’s friend with the way there’s a spill of chain and a set of dog tags hanging from his clenched fist. The way he watches Ryan with narrowed eyes, but hasn’t made a move for the rifle he’s carrying.

There’s no rank insignia or anything to give the kid to work with, which is kind of the point since Ryan and his squad were never here on a mission that didn’t happen.

The fact that things went to hell so badly that this kid and his unit got pulled into things going to make it a hell of a lot harder for the brass if (when) word gets out about this one.

“Landmines,” the kid echoes, hint of an accent to it – Boston maybe?

“Yeah,” Ryan says, mouth twisting. “My squad found them the hard way.”

The damn minefield wasn’t the start of things, but damn if it didn’t do just as much damage.

Killed Hopkins straight off, and enough blood to think Wilson was living on borrowed time. Kerrigan could still be out there, stubborn as anything, but he’ll be making his way to the extraction point with the package they came here to for.

There’s no route out of here that will get him there in time for a chopper ride out of here, not with how much is relying on that package getting home, so Ryan’s on his own here.

The kid hisses in sympathy, and Ryan looks away, tapping his fingers against his thigh as he thinks.

The mountains here play merry hell with communications, and the only road in or out twists its way though several villages and small towns. They might be able to get their hands on a vehicle, get somewhere safe they can call a chopper in, get the hell out of here.

Ryan looks at the kid as he realizes the direction his thoughts have gone. His own squad is fucked, which is something he’s deliberately not thinking about now, but this kid -

This kid’s squad is out there somewhere, but there’s enemy militia combing the area who tend to shoot first and ask questions never. Ryan doesn’t want to leave the kid here, but he doesn’t have time to stand around arguing with him if he’s determined to regroup with his squad.

“You have a plan?” the kid asks, looking to Ryan for answers as if Ryan knows what the fuck he’s doing.

“Follow the road. Steal a car. Get the hell out of here,” Ryan says succinctly, and shrugs at the look it gets him.

It’s not the best plan, but they’re short on options. There’s a route through the mountains, old hiking and game trails, but in the dark it’s all but a death sentence. A few miles to their east there’s a supply camp, but with the militia out there -

“We’re fucked, aren’t we?”

“Not necessarily,” Ryan hedges.

“Right,” the kid says with a resigned little laugh, “that’s real convincing, pal.”

Ryan cocks his head as the kid sticks his hand out, this look on his face that says he knows they’re probably going to die, but fuck it.

“Jeremy,” he says. “I’d say it’s a pleasure meeting you, but uh, you know.”

Ryan laughs, and shakes Jeremy’s hand.

“Ryan,” he says, “and yeah, I do.”

Their odds aren’t great, but things could be worse, so there’s that.

========

“I don’t buy it,” Gavin says, soot smudges on his face and this cut on his cheek from flying debris.

Ryan groans, ribs aching from the force of the explosion, and somehow manages to sit up, putting his back to the trunk of a fallen tree for support.

“Yeah?” he asks, smiling in spite of himself at the look on Gavin’s face.

Job’s done, and Jeremy and Michael are on their way to pick them up because someone - Ryan’s not going to name names (Gavin) - blew his car up.

Again.

Gavin makes his way over to Ryan and drops down with a groan, hesitating before he leans against him.

Ryan freezes for a moment before he realizes it’s pretty cold out and neither of them are exactly dressed for it. (Of course Gavin’s trying to steal his body heat like the clever little thief he is.)

He watches as Gavin stretches his legs out, hissing softly as he checks his ankle’s range of motion after that spill he took earlier.

“Yeah,” Gavin says with a quiet chuckle.

Ryan hums, putting an arm over Gavin’s shoulder when he presses closer, because because heat conservation or something along those lines.

========

Jeremy calls him a mother hen for this, but Ryan needs to make sure his body armor’s on right before they go out. Superstition or something else, Ryan doesn’t know or care.

Michael’s watching them from across the room, eyes tracking Jeremy as he heads over to talk to Gavin. (The whole reason Ryan’s so insistent on double-checking everyone’s body armor because he’s so...cavalier about wearing his own, and that worries Ryan.)

“Something wrong?” Ryan asks, moving to check Michael’s body armor.

After a brief altercation that Ryan refuses to call a slap fight Michael relents with moderate grace, and lets him check the straps, the way the armor lays.

Michael shrugs.

“You and Jeremy,” he says, making a vague gesture in their direction. “You work together before all this?”

Another job for Lester, and the four of them have worked together enough that genuine trust is starting to form between them. (Which is nice, because stealing a fucking SWAT truck isn’t going to be easy.)

“Occasionally,” Ryan says, wondering what brought this on. “I’ve worked with you before too, in case you’ve forgotten.”

Michael scowls at the deflection, before it morphs into a sly little smirk.

“Yeah,” Michael says, because he’s never going to let Ryan live that one time – one time – Ryan had wasn’t great at driving, “and you still cant drive for shit.”

========

Ryan’s been out on medical leave, but the team’s kept in the loop when it comes to gossip.

All the little scandals like the one involving who keeps eating other people's lunch out of the break room fridge. What idiot fell on their ass running the obstacle course doing something they shouldn’t have for a stupid bet. How McCallister wrecked a squad car he had no business driving because someone questioned his skill behind the wheel, which.

Wow, yeah, didn’t see that one coming.

The new sniper they brought in from Boston - Dooley? - to replace Hammond when he fucked up his shoulder helping his cousin move. (Hammond’s never going to live that one down, because who the hell does that?)

Ryan doesn’t see the guy at all until the third day he’s back at work, and when he does all he can think is that the rumors about him have to be true.

Dooley either managed to impress someone high up or has amazing blackmail material on same, because there’s no way he meets the height requirements to get into the police academy, land a spot on SWAT

To be fair though, people have done worse than having that bit of their records fudged or wearing shoes with lifts in them to make the height different less glaringly obvious in person for the job. (Watching him shoot, makes Ryan wonder if someone saw that and knew fudging his records was worth it.)

“Impressive, wouldn’t you say?” Carter asks, glint in her eye as Dooley trots over to the target examine the shot grouping, and she knows how Ryan gets.

“Rumors say he has a problem with heights?” Ryan says, because he knows how she gets.

Protective of her people, and if she called Ryan down here like this she wants a favor.

And true to form, Carter slides him a look, corner of her mouth ticking up just the slightest bit.

“Figured you’d be the best bet to help him out with that,” she says. “Theater kid right? Used to handle lighting?”

There are days Ryan regrets sharing that part of his life with his teammates, but seeing the bright smile on Dooley’s face as he heads over to them, he thinks it might not have been his worst mistake.

“I think I could figure something out,” he says, earnest little smile on his face when she shoots him a look.

“Just don’t break him, Haywood. He’s a good kid,” she mutters, as if Ryan would ever do something like that, heaven forbid.

========

Michael’s not wrong about being a better driver than Ryan. Whipping the SWAT van around tight corners and slinging it through narrow back streets with ease as they they evade the police chasing them.

Choppers in the sky, and it that would be a problem if Gavin and Jeremy didn’t have that angle covered. Black gunship lifting off a roof overhead as they pass by just as planned.

Michael sliding Ryan a grin at Gavin and Jeremy’s whoops of excitement over the comms as they smoothly drop into place behind the police choppers.

“Thought he had a fear of heights?” Michael asks, nearly putting the SWAT van on two wheels as he takes a sharp right, Ryan bracing himself against his door as he does.

Ryan smirks as the police choppers realize they’re being hunted, too slow to move out of the way  in time as Jeremy opens fire.

“Give him something to shoot and he’s fine,” which is more or less the truth.

========

This job requires more finesse than the usual ones Lester sends them on. Has Ryan and Jeremy being fitted for tuxedos, which is new.

Gavin’s absolutely delighted watching as Jeremy holds still for the tailor as they scrutinize  the fit of his tuxedo. Michael’s leaning against the wall looking highly unimpressed with Lester’s latest plan, and Ryan -

“Oh, you look lovely,” Gavin says as Ryan steps out of the changing room, tugging uselessly at his too-tight collar.

Ryan’s eyes narrow, but Gavin seems to be sincere. Circles around Ryan making these little noises of approval before stopping in front of Ryan again, gleam of amusement in his eyes.

“Not your first time wearing one of these?”

Ryan’s eyes cut to Jeremy who looks a little harried as the tailor and his assistant position him him this way and that.

“No.”

========

Officially, there’s no such thing as rival agencies when both parties work for the same government.

Unofficially -

“Jesus Christ,” Ryan mutters, shoulder aching where the other agent shot him.

Impressive aim with the clear intent to kill, and Ryan needs to have a talk with his superiors about what constitutes need to know information when he gets back.

If he gets back.

“Come on out,” the other agent calls, acoustics taking his words and twisting them, adding an eerie echo that sends a shill up Ryan’s spine. “I just want to have a little chat.”

Ryan’s bleeding through a tuxedo that costs more than he makes in a year. He’s trapped in the underbelly of the hotel an auction dealing in state secrets and being hunted by an agent from another agency. He thinks it’s fair to say that this is not his best day.

This was supposed to be an easy mission.

Get in, get the files and out again without being caught. The cover he’s using is an established one, reputation built up over the years, and well-respected in this community.

Trusted, even.

“No?” the other agent asks, sounding disappointed. “Guess that means I’ll just have to find you.”

Ryan’s got a bit of a reputation at the agency for being creepy when really it’s more that he has a knack for theatrics.

This agent, however, is making him reevaluate his fellow agent’s concerns because it’s amazingly unnerving.

The worst part is they’ve been manipulated into this position, someone looking to use them to further their agenda.

Setting them at cross-purposes, his handler had mused before Ryan lost contact with them.

Playing their agencies against one another and no way to tell who was in the right, or how high up any of it went. (Ryan and this other agent mere pawns in whatever game they’re playing, and it burns realizing how blind he’s been.)

Ryan’s earpiece is long gone, abandoned near the beginning of this little cat-and-mouse game, and it’s just him and his wits and whatever luck he has left to get him through this.

Ryan checks his weapons, and realizes he’s down to half a magazine and his last throwing knife. Regret for that foolish decision to leave his garrote in the agency drop box because he felt it wouldn’t be needed after all.

Hindsight and all that, he supposes, and pushes himself to his feet to finish this one way or another.

========

Gavin’s side-eyeing Ryan so hard he can’t help but laugh.

“Stop it, you’re bleeding you idiot,” he chides, but it’s tempered with this exasperated sort of fondness as he puts pressure on the gash along Ryan’s ribs.

His hands are cool, soothing, and Ryan relaxes into his touch.

He can hear Michael fussing over Jeremy a few feet away, snapping and snarling at him in worry. Jeremy deliberately provoking him every now and then because he’s an asshole.

Another of Lester’s jobs out of the way and a few more scars to add to their collection.

“Haywood,” Ryan says in an atrocious mockery of Gavin’s accent as he takes over the job of making sure he doesn’t bleed out on them. “Ryan Haywood.”

Gavin scowls at him, but it’s belied by the mirth in his eyes and gentle touch as he checks Ryan for other injuries.

========

“Hey,” Michael says, keeps his voice down so Jeremy won’t notice. (Won’t look over and know they’re talking about him.) “He going to be okay with this one?”

Jeremy’s tough, can take a hit better than any of them.

Used to throwing himself fist-first into a fight, wild grin on his face and a snarl behind his teeth. Worse than Michael, really, and he’s the one with the wolf on his back.

Know that doesn’t help when this latest job of Lester’s hits a little too close to home for comfort.

Someone setting up fight rings that don’t play by the rules Los Santos abides by when it comes to them. Doesn’t care if a fighter dies in the ring so long as they bring in a paying crowd beforehand.

Rumors that they’ve been forcing people into the ring, grabbing them off the streets and worse. No way to know how long it would have gone on if they hadn’t made the mistake of snatching one of Lester’s contacts and brought his attention to what’s been happening.

Jeremy volunteering to act as bait before any of them could say a damn thing because he knows his way around the fight rings, who else better? Stubborn set to his jaw and this look in his eyes that said he’d rather it was him than any of them.

The look of surprise on his face when Michael stepped forward to volunteer as well. (Eyes flicking to Jeremy and his, “What? You think you're the only one here who's gone into the ring? Get over yourself, asshole.”)

“Jeremy will be fine,” Ryan says, because this time he’s not alone. “You’ll be watching his back in there the whole time, right?”

Ryan’s needed elsewhere, much as it galls him, and none of them want Gavin anywhere near the fucking place. (He’s fast and agile, resourceful as hell, yes, but the people they put in the rings are goddamned vicious. Desperate and terrified and all the more dangerous for it.)

Michael looks to where Gavin’s talking to Jeremy. The two of them with their heads bent over Gavin’s laptop as they go over every step of the plan again, Jeremy pressing close to Gavin.

“You know,” Michael presses, worried and angry and scared because he’s never seen Jeremy like this. “About this.”

That -

“He’s got us,” Ryan says, because God help anyone who tries to hurt one of them now.

========

There are rules to the fighting rings in Los Santos, ones Ryan’s worked hard to keep in place.

Every so often though, someone thinks they can get creative. Think they’re being clever with their little loopholes. (That he won’t find out.)

His contacts tell him about some asshole with a ring on Elysian Island, close to one of Simeon’s operations.

When he goes down to check it out, he leaves the mask and face paint at home. Doesn’t want to spook the people behind it before he makes his move.

He finds a kid facing off against a behemoth of a man nearly twice his size.

The kid’s got blood on his teeth and a manic look in his eyes. Looks to be running on nothing but sheer will-power and he’s winning>.

Fights mean, dirty, and doesn’t give a fuck about it as he drops his opponent and turns to face the crowd, eyes landing on Ryan like he knows.

“You next?” the kid demands, bravado running high.

Ryan watches as the kid prowls closer to the chain link fencing meant more to protect the crowd from the fighters than keep them inside the ring.

The crowd around him is losing their minds at the challenge, voices yelling for blood merging to create a nightmare cacophony of sound.

The kid’s.

Ryan’s, if he accepts his challenge and steps into the ring.

Anyone but theirs.

Ryan looks around him. Sees the faces looking back with this horrible hunger in their eyes that sparks that steady burn of anger in his chest into a blaze as he  rises to his feet to bring it all tumbling down around them.

========

“It didn’t happen like that, did it?” Michael asks, tired and hurting, and trusting Ryan not to hurt him as he cleans the blood off his face.

Ryan sighs, looking over to where Gavin has Jeremy. Quiet words and gentle hands, one curled lightly on the back of Jeremy’s neck to help ground him. Ryan picks up the tweezers to pick splinters out of Michael’s hands, jaw clenching at the choked off  noise Jeremy makes as Gavin carefully enfolds him into a hug.

“No,” Ryan says, because he’s not infallible, and Los Santos is full of people worse than he could ever be. “But I wish it had.”

Maybe then he could have gotten Jeremy out of the fucking ring sooner.

========

Gavin’s on the good stuff, dopey grin on his face and a mess of uncoordinated limbs and messy hair and-

“If you aren’t careful you’re going to tear your stitches.”

- injuries.

Deliberate, intentional, and bound to scar. Ribs that have to hurt like a bitch, and this new fear of being left alone that makes Ryan want to break something.

Gavin makes a face, pulling the sleeve of his shirt up to look at the bandage on his arm, hitching his shoulder slightly because he’s got another one there too that limits his mobility.

He’s a mess, and Ryan doesn’t know why the hell Michael and Jeremy trusted him to keep him safe while they deal with thee fuckers who did this to him when he should be the one out there looking for them.

Michael knows Gavin the best out of the three of them, and Gavin’s always been comfortable around Jeremy. Ryan is -

“Ryan,” Gavin says suddenly. “Are you ever going to tell us how you and Jeremy met?”

Ryan makes the mistake of meeting his eyes, and while Gavin’s puppy-dog eyes aren’t nearly as effective as Jeremy’s or Michael’s, they’re not to underestimated.

“Gavin - “

Gavin needs to rest, sleep, and is fighting it with everything he has even with the painkillers working their magic, stubborn as always. Fragile look in his eyes, and God help him, Ryan understands.

He can see the moment Gavin realizes how close to giving in Ryan is, this little a-ha moment reflected in his eyes.

“I’m injured, Ryan,” he says, manipulative asshole that he is.

“Fine,” Ryan sighs, pulling Gavin’s sleeve down to cover the bandage because the heat’s being finicky and it’s cooler in the room than he’d like.

The last thing they need is for Gavin to get sick on top of everything else.

========

There’s a certain level of irony in Ryan going to a vet clinic when he can’t patch himself up. (There are rumors out there comparing him to a rabid animal that needs to be put down, and some days he even believes them.)

If Lindsay has opinions on the matter she never lets it show when he shows up on her doorstep. Just chatters at him about the weirdest things with steel in her eyes daring him to insist that no, he really doesn’t need stitches for that knife wound or a mild anesthetic while she removes the bullet in his thigh.

Certainly no need for a blood infusion after dragging his half-dead carcass to her clinic and texting her a sad smiley face to let her know he was around back.

“Okay, well you can just shut the fuck up right now, asshole.”

“Lindsay - “

The cops are probably still looking for Ryan, and while he appreciates her putting him back together again, he can’t stay here.

“Swear to God, I will neuter you right here and now if you try to tell me you’re fine,” Lindsay growls, sounding like she means every word.

Ryan blinks at her, stunned speechless.

Lindsay nods sharply and strides over to the door, opening it just enough to bark out an order for someone to bring her a blood bag.

“Nice,” Ryan mutters, shrinking back when Lindsay walks back over to him.

She crosses her arms and glares at him, and it would be more intimidating than it already is if he didn’t know her anger is born out of concern.

“Not to quibble,” Ryan quibbles, “but I don’t think whatever blood type you have on hand is compatible with mine.”

Ryan’s no expert, but science and all that. (Although he does remember reading something about pig blood a while back, so maybe - )

Lindsay arches an eyebrow at him, and with impeccable timing the door opens and someone walks inside.

“Ah, blood bag, you're here,” Lindsay says, not unlike an evil villain in a movie.

The guy sighs, like he’s talked with Lindsay about this before.

“We’ve talked about this before, Lindsay,” he says, faint thread of amusement in his voice. “You know how I feel about that.”

Lindsay gives him a delighted smile and gestures for the poor bastard to come closer for introductions.

“Vagabond, meet blood bag - “

The guy clears his throat pointedly, and Lindsay sighs as though he’s being completely unreasonable in this.

“Yes, yes, fine. Vagabond, meet Jeremy.”

There’s a pause, a look on Lindsay's face, and this long, tired sight from Jeremy because he knows what’s coming next.

“He’ll be your blood bag for the evening.”

...what.

Lindsay smiles beatifically at Ryan as though she’s not one of the most terrifying people Ryan’s ever met.

“Now be good and do what Jeremy tells you to do, or I’ll be back,” Lindsay warns as she turns to leave “And believe you me, buddy, but you do not want that to happen.

In the silence that falls after her exit, Ryan and Jeremy stare at each other, not really sure what to do now.

“Uh,” Ryan says, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

Jeremy, though.

“Nice mask,” he says, like he’s complimenting Ryan on something completely normal.

“Thank you?” Ryan says, watching Jeremy gather medical supplies and God knows what else before moving over to roll up one of Ryan’s sleeves. “What the hell is going on?”

Jeremy shrugs as he swabs a patch of skin on he back of Ryan’s hand with a prep pad before inserting an IV needle.

“Universal donor,” he says, gesturing at himself, like he’s completely unbothered with this whole situation. “And I owe Lindsay for saving my life, so. Blood bag.”

That.

What.

Jeremy raises his eyebrows and looks around the room in which they are the only occupants like he’s checking to make sure no one’s looking. Checks again one last time and lifts the hem of his shirt to show Ryan the handle of the gun tucked in his waistband.

“I do crimes,” he says, grinning at Ryan. “This is just a side gig.”

Ryan still has no idea what’s going on, but he’s more terrified of Lindsay coming back and making good on her threat. (More of a promise with her, really.)

“Okay?” he says, watching Jeremy as he pulls up a seat beside him as he finishes setting up for the transfusion.

Easy, practice motions like he’s done this before and knows exactly what he’s doing, and then he looks at Ryan as the transfusion starts.

“So,” Jeremy says, waggling his eyebrows at Ryan with ridiculous smile on his face. “Come here often?”

========

Gavin buries his face against Ryan’s side, soft, helpless laughter squeaking past his lips.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he says. “Lindsay would never call Jeremy a blood bag. She’s too lovely for that.”

Ryan raises an eyebrow at that because Lindsay is a terrible human being who absolutely would call Jeremy a blood bag, and they both know it.

========

“They’re going to figure it out one day,” Jeremy says, infinitely amused as they watch Michael tackle a squawking Gavin off the couch for some offense or other. “You do know that, right?”

Ryan shrugs, because he’s fairly certain Michael, at the very least has an inkling about the truth. All the things he and Jeremy have let slip in the past, but it’s just so fun fucking with them about it.

“Yeah,” Ryan says, popping open a can of diet soda and sitting back to see who’s going to win this tussle. “But it’s more fun this way.”

========

Ryan’s in line at the grocery store because even notorious criminals need to eat. It must be payday or something like it because there are several people ahead of him in line with full carts, the other lanes just as full.

Not ideal, but he’s in no rush at the moment with his latest job behind him and nothing lined up for a while.

He’s watching the woman at the register arguing with the cashier over an expired coupon when there's a clatter behind him and a panicked cry of “Oh shit, no!” before he feels a cart hit him.

When he turns, it’s to se a guy with a look of utter dismay on his face, apologies spilling out of his mouth as he wrestles his cart back under control.

“Oh my god,” he says, sounding mortified. “I’m so sorry, are you okay? I didn’t mean - “

Ryan misses whatever the poor guy is saying, because Ryan is busy staring at his face.

It’s a nice face.

A very nice face.

A very nice face Ryan is staring at like an idiot because he likes looking at it that much.

A very nice face Ryan is staring at like an idiot because he likes looking at it that much that is now frowning at him, and, oh, fuck, he’s being creepy about things again isn’t he?

“No, no,” Ryan says, remembers that smiling is a thing people do. “I’m fine, really. Just surprised me is all.”

The guy looks skeptical about that, but there’s something cautiously hopeful to it as he asks Ryan if he’s sure about that.

“I’m fine,” Ryan reassures him, even though his ankle stings like a bitch and he’s sure he’s going to have a bruise from the cart with how hard it hit him.

“Are you sure - “

“Ryan,” Ryan interrupts, holding his hand out because he’s an idiot and this poor guy has apologized more than enough for an accident. (Also his face and how much Ryan likes it.) “My name’s Ryan, what’s yours?”

Ryan’s secretly pleased he managed to get that out without flubbing, and almost misses the once-over the man gives him.

“Jeremy,” the guy says, hint of color on his cheeks as he realizes Ryan caught Jeremy checking him out. “Uh. Sorry?”

Ryan smiles, stupid bit of hope in his chest because maybe Jeremy likes his face too.

========

“I do,” Jeremy says, laughing like an idiot when Ryan looks at him, because he’s had a few drinks and working on another in a bid to catch up to Michael. “I like your face a lot, Ryan.”

Jeremy’s expression goes all goofy on him as Gavin’s voice reaches them, indignant only the way Michael can make him.

“I like their faces a lot too,” he says, stupid soft and far too damn honest.

“Yeah,” Ryan says, and stops to clear his throat because these idiots do that to him. “Same.”

Jeremy snorts, and Ryan reaches out to take his drink from him because he knows Jeremy’s itching to help Michael gang up on Gavin.

Jeremy beams at him, darting in to smack a loud kiss to Ryan’s cheek before stumbling over the others.

Ryan watches him, and then decides to borrows a page from Gavin’s book as pulls his phone out to record the disaster sure to come for posterity. (Definitely not for blackmail material.)

#Jeremwood #jeremavinwood #ragehapppy #Teeth Like Razor Blades #vagrant fic #Battle Buddies

[impracticaldemon]

Chaos Theory: Sasuke Ch 5, Decisions (Indiscretion Part II)

by impracticaldemon

Author’s Note:  This one-shot about Sarutobi Sasuke of the Ikemen Sengoku universe quickly became a 3-chapter story. Now I bring you Chapter 5. Which is actually Chapter 4, Part II. Part I was mostly about Mitsuhide. Part II is about Sasuke and my character, Chieko. 

Please see this post for the Mitsuhide-Sasuke-Kenshin conversation that formed part of the basis for the story (other than chapter 1 - I don’t know where that came from).

NOTE: RATED M for sexual situations and sexual content. Over 7500 words. You’ve been warned.

Words:  ~ 21,000 Total | ~ 3300 per chapter; Ch 4 ~ 4000; Ch 5 ~ 7500 Full Story is also on:  FFN |  AO3     Chapter 1 |  Chapter 2 |  Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 

Written for @iamaikotachibana , and because I have a total weakness for Sasuke myself. Apparently, I also enjoy writing Mitsuhide.  ~ Imp

Chapter 5—Decisions (The Price of Indiscretion Part II)

He looked a little dishevelled, and his face was even more devoid of emotion than usual, but it was definitely the same man who had kissed me—whom I'd kissed—just two hours earlier. Despite everything, I felt a rush of relief, followed by happiness, and then—I blamed my jailor's parting words—a warm, fluttery, excited feeling that I tried my best to set aside. Yeah, good luck with that.

A moment later, Sasuke alighted silently on the tatami. His eyes did a brief sweep of the room, and then he crossed to the window, beckoning me to follow. When I came up beside him, he rested a hand on my shoulder and bent down to my ear. Sadly, his words were prosaic.

"Could you open the window screen and look around for me? I don't want to cause even more problems for you."

The second sentence told me that he was berating himself—might even be quite upset—behind that blank face of his. I tried to ignore my reaction to feeling his soft breath on my ear and neck, and slid open the screen as requested. Then I took my first careful look at my surroundings.

As Mitsuhide had implied, my new room was still in the same living area of the castle, which meant that I was three floors up and facing the back of the castle. There was at least one major difference, however; there was only a short, rather steep eave of tiled roof in front of my window, instead of access onto a much wider area with a comfortable slope.

"Sasuke? You can look for yourself—I don't see anyone."

Sasuke nodded, and peered cautiously out through the window. Unlike me, he gave the layout below only a cursory glance before examining the area above. Shortly afterward, he gently closed the wood and paper shade and slid down to sit on the floor, his back against the wall. I sat down awkwardly beside him, unsure what to do. For lack of better ideas, I took the lid off a nearby ceramic jar. The water inside wasn't for drinking; rather, it was designed to help cool the room. I could use whatever cooling was available.

"Roof access from above is difficult, but not impossible," he murmured, mostly to himself. "But one would be very exposed to attack from both above and below. I believe that Lord Mitsuhide is correct: there is only one reasonably usable access route under present circumstances, and it's internal. That's unfortunate."

"Sasuke? Can we talk?"

He slowly lifted his head and met my eyes, but although he appeared as impassive as usual, I could now see a definite flush in his cheeks. Then his brown eyes flicked away and down for a moment, and it appeared to require a significant effort to drag them back.

"Chieko. I owe you an apology. Two apologies, in fact. I hope you will allow me to at least partially redeem myself." He turned so that he was facing me properly, and bowed deeply. It made me feel very uncomfortable, and rather lonely. "Moushiwake arimasen deshita."

"Sasuke… Whatever you think you're apologizing for, that's way over the top." I tried to keep my tone even, but half-formed anxieties were swirling through my brain. My inner voice—or saner self?— wasn't impressed. You're worrying more about this relationship than about having your life controlled by Mitsuhide! Talk about weird priorities and a previously sub-standard dating life. The whisper in my mind was unaccompanied by Lord Snaky-Smile, but managed to mock me just fine on its own. I pressed on. "No, seriously… Sasuke, if you don't raise your head and start being more twenty-first century boyfriend than sixteenth century ninja, you're really going to start freaking me out."

Sasuke immediately sat up, his eyes wide and just a little panicked—although maybe that was my overactive imagination. He gingerly took my left hand. "So… we're still going out? I wasn't quite sure. It would not be unreasonable for you to change your mind."

"Change my mind?" I repeated, puzzled.

I thought I saw the ghost of a smile cross Sasuke's face. "Most women aren't as resilient as you are when faced with possible imprisonment, torture, and death." He looked thoughtful for a moment, and then added: "Not that I've spoken at length to many women, and none—other than you—who have recently been threatened with those outcomes in my presence. My assumption may be faulty."

"Well, I can't say I'm thrilled about the possible options, but how is it your fault that Mitsuhide has peculiar tastes in recreational activities?"

Sasuke looked away again, although at least he held onto my hand. His response was what I expected—now that I'd thought it through a little.

"Lord Mitsuhide's behaviour is both logical and surprisingly forbearing for this era. He is taking reasonable precautions against being associated with a probable enemy spy should things go wrong. That's much more difficult now that people know he's seen me. He might not have seen me if I'd arrived sooner and left sooner last week. It would have been much less likely, at least. And you wouldn't be under suspicion if he hadn't been able to connect you to me, which was entirely my fault. Among other things, I took a chance by leaving directly through your window. It is only because the Oda warlords hold you in such high regard that you are still relatively free. Unless Lord Mitsuhide has ulterior motives."

I was going to point out that Mitsuhide always had ulterior motives, but something told me that Sasuke already knew that.

"Why didn't you tell me that you were going to follow me here?" I asked. "Mitsuhide wasn't wrong when he said that it was very risky for you. Maybe if I'd known, it would have gone better."

Sasuke shifted uncomfortably. "Well… I don't know quite how to say this, but your expression tends to lend itself to openness and honesty—which I admire. However, since I was still hoping to find a way in to see you undetected, I wanted any watchers to assume that you were on your own."

I sighed. "You thought my expression, or whatever, would give you away. Fine. At least you put it more nicely than Mitsuhide. You know, if this is going to be the last time I get to see you for a while, then maybe we could at least sit together for a few minutes?" Do you realize how much you care about this man? Is it getting through to you?

"I'm supposed to be putting together a list of my previous comings and goings. You'll be safer when that's done." I couldn't tell what Sasuke was thinking, but his answer disappointed me. Not that he was wrong, but he'd been a lot more passionate, and a lot less reserved, earlier in the afternoon. Then I told myself to get a grip and be reasonable—the situation had changed since then.

"Oh." I tried for neutral, but it still came out sounding sad.

Sasuke's gaze sharpened, and he scrutinized my face intently. I thought I saw or sensed surprise under the stoic mask. Before I could say anything further, he lifted my hand to his lips and kissed each finger in turn, before pulling me into his lap and cradling me against his chest. As before, his heartbeat wasn't nearly as calm as his expression. I snuggled as close as I could, curling my free hand into his tunic. It was a relief, despite the heat. Note to self: I think I'm falling in love. When did this happen? By return memo: Duh. And work on the meaning of the word 'falling'; we discussed this.

"I wasn't sure what you thought of me, after my inappropriate behaviour with you earlier…" His voice was subdued, and he sounded even guiltier than he had when he'd apologized for getting me into trouble with Mitsuhide and possibly the other Oda warlords.

"Inappropriate behaviour?" I was genuinely confused, and not sure how to react.

"I meant to kiss you, not attack you. Having you fall on me clouded my judgement. I'm very sorry about that. I had hoped to strike a balance between being boldly assertive—as recommended by Lord Shingen—and being respectful of your comfort and boundaries, which is just… just… the right thing to do… Chieko?"

He probably stopped because I was doing my best to remind him that whatever we'd done, we'd done it together. Specifically, I was running my fingers over his neck and upper chest, and liking what I found. He was probably the world's most athletic geek, and he was mine—except for a bit of unfortunate overthinking. Yes, Mitsuhide could theoretically have us arrested, or impounded, or whatever the right word was. But he'd given us until sundown, and that was still quite a ways off. He—Mitsuhide—was undeniably a master at intrigue and deception, and would probably lie sooner than tell the truth, but I was going to bet on him keeping his word within the boundaries he'd set out.

I looked up when Sasuke ran out of words. "You managed boldly assertive very well," I assured him, fingers still stroking the skin just below his collar bone. "And my boundaries appear to be very flexible around you." Or pretty much non-existent. "I'll have you know that I turned down Lord Nobunaga himself—although Hideyoshi almost killed me for objecting to his grabby hands. Nobunaga's hands, I mean."

"Yes… you told me about that. It made me anxious for you—given the more or less absolute rights of high-ranking samurai in this era—but you managed the Oda warlords quite well after that. I still don't know—"

Before he could finish the sentence, I pressed my finger against his lips.

"We don't have unlimited time. You've got to be out of here before sundown—by a reasonable margin so that I don't have a heart attack—and I'm determined to get Mitsuhide to let me resume my normal duties after that. Plus, before you go, you have a list to write."

"…I take it that you're willing to take the chance that Lord Mitsuhide is telling the truth?" I couldn't blame him for sounding dubious.

"About staying out of my—this—room for the rest of the afternoon? Yes. But you're clearly in more danger than I am, so it's your call. What do you want to do? I'm absolutely certain that one way or another you'll get us to Kyoto in time to catch our wormhole home. If you want to write up your note for Mitsuhide, and then figure out the quickest, safest way to leave, I'm good with that." I wouldn't like it very much, and my body wasn't onside at all, but I could be sensible. Probably. Being this close was giving me all sorts of ideas.

Sasuke's stoic demeanour was cracking. He looked visibly conflicted.

"I don't want to make things worse, and they could be much worse. At the same time, I don't want to let go of you. A number of Lord Mitsuhide's actions and comments made me very uncomfortable—about your safety. However, it was clear to me that I had to remain silent; I hypothesize that he was testing my discretion as well as exploring your motives."

"It's okay. I wasn't expecting you to jump out of the ceiling to defend me."

Sasuke was suddenly looking down at me from close quarters, hands on my shoulders and eyes narrowed, as if my words had triggered something that he'd been trying to suppress. This time there was no conflict in his expression, only frustration verging on anger.

"Whether you were expecting me or not, I did want to defend you. I didn't like the way he handled and threatened you." Sasuke's hands tightened on my shoulders. It was finally making sense to me now how a number of Mitsuhide's comments had been aimed at provoking Sasuke, not just me. "I wonder if I've been here too long," he continued. "It wasn't easy to stay hidden. I had to remind myself that you would not appreciate any unnecessary violence, and that I could intervene if something drastic happened—at least for long enough for you to escape."

"Oh no, no, no… We are not going to discuss you sacrificing yourself or anything like that. Nobody dies, and in four or five weeks, we go home."

Sasuke stared at me from behind his glasses, and then his lips twitched briefly into a classic Sasuke smile, complete with hints of humour, self-deprecation, and shyness. "Sorry. That was melodramatic on my part. "

"This whole era is melodrama, isn't it? Though I do my best to keep things moderately normal." I was babbling. The smile was turning me to mush and heating me up all over at the same time. Why wasn't he—oh.

My eyes closed and I drew in a long, deep breath when my hair was brushed aside and warm lips closed gently on my temple, and then trailed kisses down toward my jaw. I wanted to tell him "Good choice, I wanted you to stay," but it came out as something embarrassing like "Finally."

"I couldn't resist," Sasuke murmured in the vicinity of my ear, sounding slightly defensive. "The most rational choice by a significant margin is to leave as soon as possible, but I wanted to kiss you again and your expression..." His teeth gently worried at my lower lip, and one of his hands found its way to the back of my head to pull me closer. I could feel his body tensing against me and under me. "You looked like you wanted—"

"You weren't wrong…" I turned a little and leaned into the kiss, feeling his tongue slip between my lips and the slight hitch in his breath when I shifted further so that I could wrap my arms around his neck.

As though we had all the time in the world at our disposal, we made the most of this kiss, parting to breathe, but never for long. Soft, deep, longing—loving?—kisses; harder, deeper, passionate kisses. Our problems became a hazy blur in my mind, not quite forgotten but worth putting aside for as long as possible.

"I don't pick very good times for this," Sasuke said eventually, looking slightly drunk, and very much the opposite of cool and collected. I tried to find it endearing—I mean, it was—but my mind was more focused on things like "too many damn clothes" and "don't care if somebody walks in so help me…"

"When in the Sengoku," I reminded him, leaning back a little to watch his face.

"Jeopardizing our safety for a kiss?"

"I can totally imagine Masamune saying it was worth it." Not that he would stop with a kiss, if he could get away with it. …Heaven help me I was citing Masamune as a role model.

"Date Masamune is one of the most powerful warlords of this time."

"So? He said you were an excellent ninja—and a surprisingly strong swordsman—as I recall. That's very high praise."

"Yes. While I remain loyal to my current employer—"

"Who is clearly mentally unstable."

"—It is gratifying to have job offers from both Lord Masamune and Lord Mitsuhide."

He sounded calm, but he wasn't, and I didn't want him to be. Problem was, I knew that his head was still in conflict with the rest of him. I'd been there before and recognized the symptoms, even on a super-stoic astrophysicist-ninja. But I'd been listening to his heartbeat, and I was sitting in his lap. Some reactions weren't so easy to hide.

"Sasuke? You always worry about me, but what do you want? I said it was up to you, but you never really answered." His face was already flushed, but his cheeks darkened further. That suggested possibilities that were far more appealing than they should be—given the time and place, and our very new relationship. You must really, really like this guy if a blush is turning you on—turning you on more, that is. I didn't bother to argue.

"I should… prioritize our safety." Sasuke's voice was low-pitched and tense. "There is no rush, probably. For us, I mean. I expect to survive any immediate battles."

"Okay, I guess. But you're dodging the question. Again." I ran my fingers over Sasuke's face, tracing his features and lingering on his mouth, before moving to the line of his jaw. It wasn't playing fair, but Mitsuhide—and Nobunaga, and Masamune, and even mother-hen Hideyoshi—had taught me that life in the Sengoku was pretty much anything but fair, so you had to make up your mind and take some chances. In fact, there weren't any guarantees in modern-day Japan either, just better percentages. Or was I just rationalizing my behaviour? If you need to ask that question…

"…I'm not very good with words." Sasuke's eyes had half-closed, but he opened them in order to study my face again. His gaze still retained a measure of its usual piercing inquiry.

"I don't know about that—you're pretty eloquent on the subject of ground spikes."

I let my hands rest on Sasuke's shoulders, leaving myself open to his scrutiny. I felt pretty self-conscious—who wouldn't?—well, other than about half the Oda warlords, who just didn't do self-conscious—wait, where was I? Trying not to totally throw yourself at the cute ninja while he's in danger of torture and death? Or maybe trying to incite the cute ninja to throw himself at you instead, so that you don't feel quite so guilty about it? …Which isn't very nice. I was reluctantly acknowledging the uncomfortable possibility of the latter, when the cute ninja took my face in an almost crushing grip and kissed me breathless.

Oh wow. In that instant, I caught a glimpse of how Sasuke had accomplished so much in four years: when he was focussed, he was driven. His mouth was greedy on mine, demanding everything, and stealing away every breath and soft moan. I found myself on the tatami under him, with no clear memory of having gotten there and no desire to be anywhere else. Hands as strong as Mitsuhide's—and just as unyielding—held my wrists to the floor by my head. Unlike earlier in the afternoon, I was conscious of having willingly ceded control to somebody a lot stronger and heavier than I was. It was as if I kept having to relearn that Sasuke was a lot more than an awkward Sengoku fanboy cosplaying a sixteenth-century ninja. My body knew it, my heart knew it—wait what?—but my brain persisted in seeing an attractive but awkward grad student.

My lips were abraded and swollen by the time I was allowed to breathe freely again, but it was sensation and need that had choked off my ability to form words. I managed a sound between a moan and a whimper when the next hard kiss found the soft skin just below my left ear and immediately became an insistent, skin-breaking bite. Instead of moving on, as he had with my collarbone earlier in the afternoon, Sasuke continued to deepen the bruise.

"Nnnnnngggh… Sa-suke?" I spoke his name in a hoarse whisper, and his mouth lifted from my neck. A moment later, he let go of my wrists and sat back on his heels, across my hips. When I looked up at him, I saw a kind of grim satisfaction lurking behind the heat in his eyes. His breathing was ragged, and when he spoke, his voice was darker and rougher than it had been before. Maybe I should have been upset, but all I felt was curiosity and rapidly escalating desire.

"…He kept touching you. He deliberately set out to intimidate you by physically restraining you and compelling your obedience. A standard interrogation technique, of course; I know that. I can't fault his reasoning or execution. But the way he went about it—the way he held you and forced you to look at him…" Sasuke took a deep breath, and then scrubbed a hand across his forehead, wiping away sweat and hiding his expression.

He sounded a little more like himself when he spoke next, but still keyed up. "I know that jealousy is a pointless, even reprehensible emotion. Also, being possessive is neither logical, nor appropriate, although it is a common failing. …I never expected to feel this way." The last words were spoken mostly to himself. I found him strangely unapologetic, given his usual courteous and considerate behaviour. Something or someone—probably a mind-reading snake—had pushed buttons that I'd never even considered in relation to Sasuke.

I stared up at him, and lifted a hand to my neck. That was going to be one hell of a bruise, although adrenaline and endorphins were more than compensating for any discomfort. And he'd done it partly—or more than partly—to get back at Mitsuhide in some way? Or as a warning? More like a mark; stop avoiding the thought. The suspicion that I should be concerned about his motivation grew—but I was having trouble thinking much past the weight across my hips. There was nothing mild or dispassionate about the expression on Sasuke's face right now, and that just made me want him more. It was ridiculous, and possibly dangerous, and I didn't need a voice in my head to tell me—again—that the time and place were all wrong.

Sasuke's fingers brushed damp tendrils of hair from my face and rested briefly on my cheek. The gesture wasn't, in itself, suggestive, but there was heat in every contact now, and muscles tightened from my abdomen to my thighs, responsive to his shift in weight. Ridiculous or not, dangerous or not—

"Are you sure you aren't upset with me about this?" he asked suddenly. The fingers skimmed along the fabric covering the line of bruises on my collarbone, and my skin quivered in reaction.

"Positive." I kept my voice as steady as I could. Was he really still worried about that or was there something else? I couldn't tell.

"Or for letting you get trapped here by Lord Mitsuhide?" And very softly: "Without stepping in to help."

"I'm sure. In fact, I'm a lot more worried about y—"

"If you want me to go, you'll have to say so."

I drew in a sharp breath at the uncompromising words, and then all but stopped breathing. I hadn't noticed him unfastening the upper ties of my summer-weight kimono and sheer under-kimono. His hand was now pressed flat against the skin between my breasts. Only my obi, fastened tightly with a bow in the back, held the thin silk and gauzy linen partially closed. Whatever happened now, there was no opium to excuse it.

I licked my lips and swallowed, knowing that he could feel my heart pounding, and the heat of my skin. "I… don't know if I can send you away," I whispered. All of my attention was focused on his hand—strong and lean, a little more calloused than I'd realized; no longer the hand of a twenty-first century grad student. He probably used or trained with a weapon every day. "I should, though." I finally raised my eyes to his, feeling desperately torn. I never should have teased him earlier; I should have known, or guessed, that feelings ran deep with him.

His expression was… I'd never seen or imagined him with that look. Intense, reckless, burning—completely committed to his current path despite knowing the potential costs.

"…You asked me what I wanted. I want to touch you. As much and as far as you'll allow. I want us to be lovers, whatever that means to you. You told Lord Mitsuhide that we weren't exactly lovers, and you only recanted under duress. So tell me"—his free hand set his glasses aside and deftly unwound and discarded the green cowl that sat like a scarf on his shoulders—"what will it take?"

Oh… Oh sweet gods and goddesses… Some part of my mind registered that he'd been hurt by my denial, and I truly regretted that. The rest of me felt his words like a jolt to every lust-inflamed nerve-ending, and I swear my vision blurred. Sasuke had never lost sight of his promise to get me back to the modern day safe and sound, and he'd risked himself time and again to look out for me. But he really wanted this—wanted me—in the here and now.

"I was wrong." My voice wasn't working properly, so I cleared my throat.

Sasuke just kept watching me, both patient and impatient. Focused. The hand on my chest was heavy, even without weight behind it; I wondered if he felt the same heat from that connection as I did.

"I was wrong—about not being lovers. I'm so sorry." I meant it. I'd known better since we first kissed. "Mitsuhide always winds me up, and—"

"Leave him out of this."

Right. "Sasuke…" My head was still playing catch-up with my body, but was no longer so far behind. "You've done as much as anyone could do. You don't need to do more, of prove something, I swear. And"—I reached out to touch his arm, sliding my hand along bone and sinew—"I want what you want."

"The time is wrong… and the place is wrong… We both know that." But his hand moved, caressing the soft curve of one breast through the fine silk.

"Mmmmm… True…" I arched my back and felt my toes curl, just in anticipation of feeling his touch directly on my skin.

"And I can't promise—I don't have—" He caught my head as it fell back, bending down to kiss my lips as his fingers traced circles around a nipple that was already tight with arousal. When he let his palm slide over it and around it, I moaned, and then bit my lip in an effort not to be so loud. I pressed myself upward into his hand, and even more tightly against his hips. The angle was wrong; I couldn't alleviate the heat and tension coiled within the wet folds of overheated skin surrounding both my core and the sensitive bundle of nerves that ached most for a lover's touch.

"What—are—you… nnnggggghhhh…" More slowly than I wanted, Sasuke's hand slid under the still-confining fabric of my kimono and began to stroke the sensitive, sensitized skin beneath; I could feel the tension in his fingers now, and the slight tremor in his body that spoke of forced restraint in the face of overwhelming desire and emotion.

It felt strange to be so vulnerable in front of him, and there wasn't even the cover of darkness to alleviate the feeling. I'd always tried to seem as confident as possible when he'd dropped by, as a matter of pride and so that he wouldn't worry. But now I was almost shaking with need, and pride was crumbling before lust. Good to know the sins have their uses… Even my snarky inner voice was less than coherent.

"Do you think… you could see me—just me—despite the others?" The words were halting, even as he continued to caress my skin. My whole body was burning, aching to be touched more; my hands, balked of the ability to reciprocate, kept reaching out to him, trying to draw him closer. I couldn't understand what he was trying to tell me. "I want you, all of you—even at the wrong time… and in the… wrong place." He turned his attention to my other breast, pushing the fabric roughly aside this time. "Will you have me?" His fingers stroked and teased the hard bud of the nipple until I finally managed to wrench him down on top of me so that I could kiss him—lips, throat, chest.

"…Stupid, clingy, ninja clothes…" The tunic was knitted as well as belted—impossible to remove without real effort. I gave up and twisted my hands in Sasuke's hair, kissing him as hard, as demandingly as he'd kissed me before. I loved the feeling of his body on mine, although the hard length of his cock against my thigh was at once exciting and a reminder that there were still decisions to make that I wanted to ignore.

"Chieko." Sasuke grabbed my upper arms, pinning me to the floor and propping himself up on his elbows. "You need to understand—"

"Whatever it is—"

"You are surrounded by powerful men. And I'm not—Oda Nobunaga, or Toyotomi Hideyoshi, or Tokugawa Ieyasu… Or the kitsune, Akechi." The way he said the last name suggested that he wasn't a fan.

"He's more of a snake," I muttered.

"Chieko…"

"Sasuke, I'm all yours. You're going to have to take my word for it, and trust your judgment. That's how it goes."

He buried his face in my chest, wrapping his arms around my waist. Then he found my breast with his mouth, and let his tongue caress the nipple. I clutched at his hair, moaning; how could he not understand what he was doing to me? Or maybe he did. I was already a panting, needy mess by the time he turned his attention to my other breast, still pinning my lower body under his, his strong arms holding me still when I started to writhe.

When he looked up at last, he had the feverish look from before.

"Clothes…"

"Mm-hm." Finally!

I watched with lust-induced unselfconsciousness as Sasuke sat back on his heels and stripped off belt, tunic, and kimono-shirt. It was absolutely worth the wait, I decided, entranced by his sure, swift movements, and the lean torso and tightly-toned arms that emerged from all the fabric. Muscles and tendons stood out in sharp definition under the mostly-smooth skin, and I longed to be able to touch him, to run my hands over it all.

Sure enough, there was a barely-healed wound on his lower ribs, which still looked painful, although Sasuke had evinced no trace of pain in any of his movements. Then I noticed that the forming scar was hardly the only one there. Impelled by concern, my eyes traced the lines—some faint and white, others more puckered. What the hell had happened to him?

I suddenly realized that Sasuke had stopped moving, and was sitting quite still, watching my face. I loved how he looked, stripped to the waist, flushed with desire, and need raced through me all over again—to be held against him, skin to skin, with nothing between us. He looked away for a moment, then shrugged in something like embarrassment, still not quite meeting my eyes.

"I just wasn't fast enough, when I first got here. I underestimated the training required. That's all. I'm fine now. Please don't worry about it."

"That's not going to work for me, but I can put off worrying for a while longer."

"…Thank you." There was real relief in his tone, and then he rose and stood me on my feet in order to first unfasten, and then unwind, my pretty obi. My kimono, free of the belt and already most of the way off my shoulders, slid to the floor and pooled around my feet. In the custom of the time—as strange as it had been, at first—I wore no undergarments other than the under-kimono, and it clung to me for only a moment before following both obi and kimono. For the first time that day, shyness overtook desire, and I was glad to be facing away.

Sasuke's arm wound around me from behind, and a hand brushed my tumbled hair forward off my shoulders so that we were finally skin-to-skin. Desire came flooding back, heat radiating from the place where his arm held me just under my breasts. Then his lips touched my ear, warm and soft and almost too gentle. I clung tightly to his arm, my head falling back against his chest. The sensation on my ear grew stronger, as lips were joined by tongue and teeth. I felt my knees start to buckle, and the rise and fall of Sasuke's chest against my back sped up, his breath becoming more of a rasp. When his free hand moved from exploring the curve on my waist and hip to caressing my breast, I moaned aloud despite myself, and tried to turn so that I could allow my hands free rein over my lover's skin. I didn't get my way, and it was almost too much.

"Sasuke…" His name came out in a rough whisper. I tried again. "Sasuke… please…" The muscles within my core kept contracting, and I was already so wet with desire. I couldn't imagine more sensation, but I craved it in order to find some kind of release. "Touch me everywhere, let me touch you, please…"

I felt, as much as heard, the sharp hiss of indrawn breath, and then the arm around my ribs slid to my waist. After the barest hesitation, warm fingers began to stroke the soft skin of my lower belly, fingertips brushing across the top of the curls of damp hair concealing my most sensitive, most intimate places. I really did stumble then, but I was suddenly picked up and cradled in Sasuke's arms, and held tightly to his chest.

"Chieko… I want you even more than I imagined… I want all of you… But—"

I pulled his head down to mine, kissing the words from his lips, winding my tongue in his. A very short time later, I was gently laid down on something soft—my futon?—and I finally got most of my wish. Almost as soon as I touched the cool linen, Sasuke's weight settled against me, and a leg wound over mine. His lips once again found my mouth, and ear, and neck, as though he couldn't get enough of kissing me and tasting my skin. I pressed myself closer to him, and then ran my hands through his hair, and across his broad shoulders, and down his side, careful of the injury that he seemed to so completely disregard. As soon as his mouth left mine, I set my lips and teeth against his skin and set about marking him as he'd marked me earlier in the afternoon.

"Chieko."

"Mmmm… But it's my turn…" While my mouth teased and sucked and nipped at his skin, my hand trailed down to trace around his hip bone, and then lower still, to slide over the taught muscle of his outer thigh. I was gratified by a distinct, involuntary tremor at my touch. He was still only half-undressed though, which seemed unfair.

"Chieko—wait. How far… I need to know… I can't promise..." To my surprise, Sasuke set his hands on my shoulders and pushed me far enough away that he could see my face. Had I done something wrong?

"Hmm?" Despite my concern, I smiled to see him there beside me, his face no longer expressionless, his skin bare and warm and inviting to the touch. I hadn't really forgotten our situation, but it felt remote, and I hoped it would stay that way for a while longer. "Okay. I'll listen. Promise." I started to reach out again, then pulled back my hand. Was it weird how much I liked touching him?

"Thanks." He pushed damp hair back from his forehead, and then slid his hand down from my shoulder to my hip.

"That's… not helping. If you want me to listen, I mean."

"Right." He carefully stilled his hand, and visibly collected himself, looking aside in the way that he so often did. When he looked up again, his face was nearly devoid of expression for the first time in quite a while. "…There's no adequate method here… not really… of birth control." He kept his eyes steady on mine, and if he was embarrassed it didn't show. That helped, to a point, sort of. "That doesn't mean—that is, there are other ways… to be together."

Of course there were. And I wanted to explore those possibilities—just not right this moment. What I wanted, more than anything, was for us to be as close as we could possibly be, to have him within me, to feel that intense pleasure together, if we could manage it. Part of me was frustrated—almost irritated—that Sasuke hadn't just allowed me—us—to let passion get the better of good sense. It would have been easier. Then it hit me that it was deep, consistent concern and affection—that's a pretty weak word, are you serious?—for me that had made him push me to make a clear decision.

"…Chieko?" The level tone now held a hint of anxiety. "I should have said something sooner—I did try—but that seemed… presumptuous… And it's been difficult to think straight." Yes, yes it had.

"Sasuke." I whispered his name, not out of a need to be quiet, but because I was trying to come to terms with how much he meant to me.

He pulled me close again, and I lay there for a moment, soaking in his warmth.

"You don't—you won't—regret taking a chance?" I asked.

"No." The answer was quick, firm, absolutely certain. I felt my heart pound against my ribs.

"Then… even though it's… totally cliché"—and you know what, dear Snake? cliché isn't so bad—"take me, I'm yours." I couldn't help a grin, all of a sudden elated with life, and laughing at myself for using such an old line, at such a time, and meaning every word of it.

"I—really?" The hopeful surprise in Sasuke's voice just made me want to laugh more, for some reason. When he suddenly pinned me under him, and pressed his forehead to mine, I saw that that he was smiling, although the desire was vivid in the flush on his cheeks and around his eyes. "…I hope you're prepared—I won't go easy on you."

"No—Sasuke—seriously? Anime again?"

But that was as far as I got, as first my mouth was claimed, and then everything else. Feverish hands stroked my body—arms, sides, breasts, hips, belly, thighs—and finally, finally, caressed and explored the slick, wet folds guarding my core. Oh sweet gods… oh fuck… oh wow… My blood roared in my ears, and instead of being able to reciprocate his touch, I felt my head go back with a wordless, desperate moan.

My hips writhed, utterly beyond my control, when fingers slid inside me, tentatively at first but then with greater assurance, stroking my slick inner walls until my muscles began to convulse. More heat—how was that even possible—and then overwhelming, aching sensation, as the pad of his thumb found and rubbed the tight, engorged bundles of nerves at the very apex of my slit.

"Mmmmmm—nnnnnngghhhhhh—Sa-suke—need you—want you—so much…"

A short—but too-long—pause—and then hand and fingers returned, and his mouth suckled a breast, while one leg hooked tightly around mine as if to close whatever gap was possible. His cock, hard and already wet, pressed deep into my thigh, and somewhere among all the rest, I registered intense satisfaction at knowing that we were both finally, completely naked together, skin to skin in the most intimate way.

Sasuke finally shifted, trailing kisses up my chest and neck to my mouth. He was back on top of me again, breathing heavily, eyes unfocussed. My hands clung to his back, fingers tight on his skin, as he ground himself against me. I couldn't hear my own moaning, whimpering sounds for the blood rushing in my ears.

His mouth moved from my lips and neck to my ear.

"Now? Is that… okay?"

"Okay? Yes… any time—please—" I squirmed against him, so wet I would have been embarrassed if I hadn't been completely past rational—or even irrational—thought.

I felt the head of his cock slide over trembling, pulsing folds, press hard against the tight entrance to my core. Then with a low groan that goaded my arousal to desperation, he thrust into me, hard and deep, holding nothing back. I know I cried out, my fingers clawing at his skin as I tried to pull him in ever farther, and deeper. Make me yours, I whispered to him in my mind, and be mine. I want everything you have to give. Then there was nothing left in the world but the need to move together, reaching for and claiming every sweeping wave of pleasure, every intense, scorching moment of our bodies joined together.

When I reached my limit, orgasm overtaking and drowning all other sensation, I found his name on my lips like a prayer, and it tasted sweet and familiar. Sasuke… I think… No, I know… I love you. I cherish you. I want to be with you no matter what. How did this happen to me? My body shuddered around him, and my teeth closed on his shoulder. A moment later, I felt his release within me, hot and hard, all rhythm overset by the short, wild thrusts of climax. His cry was incoherent, his face vulnerable in passion. I love you—I just didn't know, before. I'm happy, so happy that I got to find out. I felt tears on my cheeks, from the still pulsing, overwhelming release, and from emotional overload.

Fingers, strong and competent, brushed away the tears. Sasuke kissed me softly, first on the corner of one eye, then on the cheek, and finally on the lips.

"Chieko—please—please tell me that I didn't hurt you in any way…"

The anxiety in his voice brought me back to myself and reality.

"No… not at all… no. I feel wonderful. Maybe a bit overwhelmed with—with everything. I think we should stay together forever." The last part slipped out unbidden.

To my surprise, Sasuke's response came immediately. "We will." Then he rolled onto his back, pulling me with him to lie in the hollow of his shoulder, bodies still touching all along my length. "I hope you won't mind too much."

I laughed, still quivering and euphoric. "No… And you can show me the stars."

"Yes. Although in point of fact I'm studying astrophysics, not astronomy. …Looking at the stars is just a hobby."

"That's fine, I've noticed you're pretty good at your hobbies."

"Chieko?"

"Mm-hm?"

"I couldn't say this earlier—or rather, I didn't want you to think it was just… a line." I went still, my eyes fixed on his profile. He turned his head, his brown eyes clear and calm. "I love you." He shrugged awkwardly—especially awkwardly since I was lying on one shoulder. "You may already know that, but I wanted to tell you anyway."

On the off chance that you're spying on us, Mitsuhide, I hope this is causing cavities. But… thank you for giving me this. Because I think you did. Maybe. Did you have to shoot my boyfriend first, though?

"This is a pretty good anime," I told Sasuke, finally finding the energy to prop myself up on his—very, very nice—chest. "I'm no expert, but aren't we short a few totally-avoidable misunderstandings and one unnecessary parting?"

"And several interfering friends who try to help but just make things worse. And rain. The next time it rains I'll come find you so that we can kiss in the rain." He sounded thoughtful. Very Sasuke. I gave up on staring into his face and snuggled into him instead.

After several blissful minutes, I finally looked over at the light filtering in around the window-screen. It wasn't fair... I sat up, only a little shy about my tumbled hair and naked body. I let my hand wander over the planes of Sasuke's chest, trying not to think too hard about the scars on his sides, arms, and—now visible—legs. There weren't as many as I'd thought, and he'd obviously made his peace with them. Then I leaned over to kiss his lips.

"You're probably trying to figure out how to say that you have to go without making it sound like you want to go," I told him. "But it's okay. Despite how things went—which I can't regret—I really do want you to be safe."

"…Thank you." Sasuke trapped my hand against his chest, but didn't otherwise move. "We've still got well over an hour until sunset, although I wish it were more. It won't take me long to write a concise report for Lord Mitsuhide—I'm good at reports."

"Oh?" My attempt at being cool and practical was sabotaged by my treacherous body.

"I want to make love to you again."

He said it quietly, but decisively, and I felt my heartbeat rise along with the heat in my cheeks. When he pulled me down on top of him, I went willingly.

[END—FOR NOW]

A/Note:  Your notes, reblogs, likes, and PMs are always appreciated! I hope to write a conclusion to this story, so please be patient with me!

Tags:  @ikemenprincessnaga  @shell-senji  @flower-dragon  @acrispyapple  @nalufever @hidetheremote  @llama-in-socks  @eliz1369  @yum-chan  @cherryb0mb79  @canadiangaap

@kitsune-mana  @rosyangel95  @blueberrypancaaaakes  @under-sengoku-skies @vespeshadowmoon

Please comment or send a PM if you’d like to be tagged.  I apologize if I missed anyone.

#ikesen #ikesen fanfiction #sarutobi sasuke #akechi mitsuhide #chaos theory #imp writes #impracticaldemon

[imagine-wannaone]

Bae Jinyoung Royalty Au

(Excuse the messy header (As always rip)) So or 1k this is a slightly longer fic I guess?? I fill like it’s in a different style but it’s probs not. Anyway, thank you~

> • You didn't want to steal, and you certainly didn't think theft was a clever or good thing to do, but in dire circumstances humans do whatever they can to survive, > • You tried not to steal anything of much worth to anyone, nothing that'd change their life, > • An apple here, a slice of bread, a ring or a necklace, maybe some clothes if you were feeling r i s k y, > • You'd grown up in the poorer part of the city with your parents, struggling to make it until they couldn't and you had to on your own, > • So you just floated, I guess, taking whatever odd jobs you could get your hands on, > • Which wasn't really enough, so as much as you hated it, you became kinda really good at thieving and pickpocketing, > • Some of the poorer kids relied on you for food, so you were really kinda trapped in this way of living, > • So you try to think of different ways you can get some food, because you really shouldn't stay to the same tactics or people, for they had a job to do and families to provide for aswell, > • So your mind turned to one target, one that you knew wouldn't notice if a few pieces of food and maybe a cloth went missing, > • The palace, the royal family, > • A hugely risky target, yes, but at this point you were desperate enough with not a whole lot to lose, > • So you plot, plan and scheme because, although you couldn't graduate from your secondary school from being caught up with trying to survive, you're crafty; wise, > • So you manage to find some blue prints of the palace after trading your shoes and a block of cheese, > • You then spend the rest of your spare time on the roof of the highest building in the city, watching the patrol patterns of the guards and memorising it, > • As well as the blind spots for cameras and where the shadows lay at what time, > • By the end of the month, you were pretty prepared: the map of the palace printed to memory, the kitchen was the main place you needed to navigate to, > • You set out, clothes black to blend in and without shoes for silence. You were confident in your plan. > • And it works, > • You sneak from shadow to shadow and manage to slide in, > • And never have you seen anything so grand, red carpets laid lazily for hallways and hallways, it seemed to relax the setting with high ceilings and painting and vases, > • It made you angry, how people could live so luxuriously while people like you had no choice but to steal, > • You pushed down your unprofessional anger and slipped into the kitchen, > • You nearly froze when you saw the absolutely extraordinary range of food the royals had, some of which you'd never seen before, > • You took a little bit of everything so they wouldn't notice anything had gone, before you left silently the way you came, unknown and unimportant, > • And that night you, or any of the street kids, weren't hungry for the first time in a long long time, > • The food you'd taken lasted around a week before you were forced to take an apple from a stall again, and the guilt you felt overwhelmed you, turning the apple sour in your mouth, > • You felt no guilt stealing from the royals, so you decided maybe you could go again, > • And again, > • And eventually you went roughly once a week, pushing your luck further and further everytime, waiting for the guards to finally find you or pick up on your movements, > • Waiting to be caught, > • But it's about 2 months before something does happen, > • You're creeping your way out of the kitchen, now armed with a black bag attached to you, a new black shirt and leather black trousers, having traded something fishy smelling from the palace to a merchant for your outfit, > • When you hear the guards marching in sync towards the area you were slipping from, > • You panic, and although your heart starts beating a mile a minute, you're a street kid, you can always find a way out, > • So as the marching sounds approach at an all too fast pace, your eyes scan the perimeter for an alleyway to run or a box to hide, > • But just as you're about to take your luck with the shadows, you feel a hand wrap around your wrist and pull quickly, and you stumble, > • You're pulled into what you can only describe as a broom cupboard, a wooden door quickly, quitely closing behind you as you're tugged against a body, a hand over your mouth in the darkness, > • Who does he think you are, you're not so amateur to scream when there are guards nearby, > • So you rip the hand from your mouth, only to hear a soft 'ssshhh' before behind you, the breath tickling your ear, > • You do as commanded, not stupid, standing still and quiet, > • You hold your breath as you hear the guards march through the kitchen and out again, completely on edge, but the warmth from the body behind you is strangely calming, their hand still on your wrist rubbing anxious circles in the back of your hand and an arm around your waist to keep you still, > • The silence settles and you wait for 5 minutes before you spin away suddenly to stare at whoever saved you for some reason unbeknownst to you, > • His face is small and handsome, his hair neatly cut and his features perfect, skin clear nails cut perfectly, > • His good looks would be daunting but he's so cute it ruins the effect, > • As well as the fact that he's wearing a huge pink shirt that makes him look smaller than he actually is and wow, > • A whole ass cutie right there, > • He looks so young as well; you're about to ask him why he isn't in bed - he needs his beauty sleep, > • Although you predict he'd probably still be beautiful without sleep, > • From his appearance and the situation you're in you come to realise he's one of the princes, > • You only ever recognise around 3 of the princes, the older ones, because the younger ones aren't ever seen outside of the castle, > • So although you know the boy infront if you is infact a prince, the posture and look in his eye is a giveaway just by themselves, you have no idea which one, > • "Who are you?" > • The question comes out quick in a low whisper, > • "I think I should really be asking the questions here," > • He says it with a gentle time but you know he's right, you nodded your head only because you know he can't see you properly since youd walked back into a shadow, > • " You know, I watch you around once a week slip into this kitchen to take whatever, but I'm still clueless to anything about you," > • You hum lowly; you knew it was too lucky to not have been seen before, so the fact that this prince has in fact noticed you doesn't come as much of a surprise, despite being a little unsettling, > • I mean being watched is creepy as hell even if the watcher is cute, > • Beauty does not excuse him of his crimes, > • But then you're a thief soooo . . . > • You're just plotting how and when to escape when his hand wraps around your wrist again, almost as if he can read your mind, > • You're slightly upset you're so easy to read, > • "Hey, I have a deal I think you'd find very interesting," > • He whispers and his eyes sparkle in excitement and as if a decision was made within those few seconds in his mind, > • "Oh?" > • You raise your eyebrows, slightly intrigued but guard still up, you do not trust the royals, > • "First, what's your name?" > • You contemplate the question, whether to answer the question truthfully, and you figured there's not a lot they could learn about you with your name, > • And, annoyingly, something about the prince infront of you made you want to be truthful and honest, > • You hate it, > • But you answer truthfully anyway, > • "Not many people know but the younger princes aren't allowed out of the palace, at all, but I think thats stupid. I want you to help me out every now and again, show me the city, the world," > • The tone of his voice breaks your heart a little, and although you don't live a great life, you love the city for the people and the variety and the secrets it holds, you can't imagine not being allowed out, > • But you know the request isn't as simple as it seems, > • "Why should I?" > • you whisper it quietly is a tone that's soft, half way through to giving in already, the situation the prince is in unfair even by your eyes, > • "Because I asked, and because I watched you stealing from my house for a solid 2 months and said nothing," > • The fact the prince doesn't threaten to call the guards, the fact that he doesn't resort to forcing you to do it makes you decide instantly that you're going to help the boy stood infront of you, > • "Meet me here, next week at 2 am, come in black, a face mask and cap maybe. A tiny amount of money." > • You slide towards the door, ready to return to your hut for the night, > • "It's Jinyoung, by the way," > • You smile a little before slipping, > • (Almost literally at the smile he sends you) > • Into the night, > • You spend a good amount of time plotting what to do before you return to the castle the following week, slipping into the cupboard silently, praying this isn't a trap, > • When the door cracks slowly open a few minutes later you're ready to pounce, but relax slightly when Jinyoung wonders in, a smile tugging at this mouth the minute he spots you, > • He does in fact follow your orders, wearing  matching black shirt and leather trousers, > • The look would be mysterious or threatening, daunting or scary, but with Jinyoungs soft face his aura doesn't change, > • It really blows you away, how he can make anything stylish and cute, > • What warms your heart is the small, tightly packed bag Jinyoung holds out to you when you greet him, packed to the brim with food that could last you a few weeks on end, > • You want to hug him but then remember you're supposed to be a mysterious hardcore thief, > • But he thought about you and gave you a life line, so you wrap your arms around him anyway, and he seems to invite the hug, even from someone so low down on the social status as you, > • You sneak out at the beginning of the next round of guest patrols, and you help Jinyoung climb over the fence, > • When you land safely on the other side his eyes light and his shoulders relax, a carefree happiness settle in his eyes and you decide the risk is definitely worth it, > • So you lead Jinyoung to the west side of the city, where the night market brings the place alive, > • Because jinyoung can't go out, not many people would recognise him, and the cap to cover his clean cut hair, the mask to hide his face, he's just another citizen, > • His eyes sparkle with the bright lights, the variety of people, the smells from all the fried food stalls and loud haggling, > • The place to you was somewhere you used to love, easily blending in and stealing small items without the blink of an eye, some people would even give you something small for free, > • But only now, with Jinyoung by your side, do you take in the bustle of the place for the first time, > • It's alive and that makes it special, > • By the time Jinyoung arrives at the palace safely again, he's high on life, stuffed with street food and eyes holding the neon lights, a small keep-sake tucked into his pocket, > • And this continues, around once a week or two, you take Jinyoung to see a different part of the city, > • It takes a whole month to plan, but you manage to sneak him out one day as well, taking him to all the shops that do the best things for the lowest prices, the cafes with the best pastries, the best people to chat to, > • You take him to the rooftop to see the stars and even push the boat to watch the sun rise, > • And he surprises you every time, how he brings down your thoughts of the royals, being kind and gentle and thoughtful, > • He really captures you attention, you find yourself simply staring at his profile, taking in the details of his face completely as you know that one day you'll have to stop this, you want to remember his every detail, > • He knows you're staring a lot of the time, perceptive to his surroundings, but doesn't mind at all, although occasionally a light blush dusts his cheeks at the intensity, > • Sometimes he turns to stare back, and you sit just looking at each other, > • "Y/N, why do you never take me to your place?" > • The pure innocence in his voice makes your heart crack a little and you breath in quickly, > • "I'm not sure it's a place you'd like to see, my prince," > • He leans against your shoulder and hums, the sound rattling through your own bones to rest in your heart, lodging itself there, > • Jinyoung knew you probably didn't live in the nicer parts of the city you'd shown him, since he knew you where a thief, but pressed Anyway, > • "Y/N, if I have any say in this country in the future, you cannot just show me the good parts, as I will not be able to help the worse parts. Please," > • The look he sends you makes your heart melt and the thoughts in your head to loose their direction, and you nod you head slowly, understanding his viewpoint, > • So you lead him to the worst part of the city, pointing out certain people and what they do and you show him the kids, who are still awake telling stories only kids can find humour in, and he passes them some food out of the bag he always packs for you so they instantly love him, > • Showing him your part of the city is like opening a part of your heart to him, and that there may be hope for the future, when Jinyoung gets a say in what happend to the city, that he could help, > • The way he doesn't look down on anything there, the kids too skinny, the broken clothes and tired laughs, the tiny room you call your home, makes hope flame in your heart, and that's the most powerful thing you've ever felt, > • So you decide, the next time is the right time to show him the most breathtaking part of the city, the most underrated part, > • The city sits next to the sea, used as a port for trade, > • But there's the small beach, your favourite place, somewhere many people think isn't big enough, grand enough to be worth anything, > • But you watch jinyoung's eyes as you show him the cove, sand covering the ground, the sea a dark navy from the night sky, a few stars fighting against the darkness with a few large, odd rocks bopping out from under the sand, the moon hazy ahead, > • And you can see he understands the small beauty of such a place, he just gets it, > • So you settle down on one of the rocks, dropping your feet a little into the water, leaning back to relax, Jinyoung making you the most relaxed you may have ever been, > • You feel him drop down next to you and copy your actions, your heart warms tenfolds, incredibly fond of this royal, > • Which honestly shocks you to pieces because weren't the royals awful and selfish? > • Is Jinyoung even a royal? > • At this point you didn't care, he was Jinyoung, he didn't care for the label added to his name so neither did you, > • "You are, perhaps, one of the most interesting people I have ever met, Y/N," > • You don't call out the fact that he probably hasn't met that many people, trapped in the castle, > • You move to look that him, the outlines of his face visible and the moon in the background, > • Jinyoung was a picture you never wanted to stop looking at, > • "Oh?" > • You smile softly as his gaze shifts to you, his handsome face coming into your view, another picture you're going to save in time as one of the parts of your life, a strong friend, > • "You put your life on the line for me every week, and what do I give in return? You really make me feel like there's no one else in the planet who matters," > • You can't say you felt butterflies, or bees, or any sort of animal in your heart or your stomach, but just a complete sense of safety, > • "You give more than you imagine Jinyoung, you bring a warmth to my heart I haven't felt for a long time, a happiness in my stomach, a dizziness in my head, a reason to wake in the morning," > • In that moment, you acknowledged this was a conversation perfect for your surroundings, > • for what else should you talk about in the dead of night, the sea beneath your feet and moon above your head? > • "Well you've helped me discover more than I thought possible, as well as my own heart," > • The shy smile encourages you to pull forwards into his warmth, > • And under the dark sky, the world falls apart as your lips touch with the promise of discovering a lot more.

#bae jinyoung #jinyoung #wanna onemww1 #imagines #headcanon #oneshot #fluff #royalty au #wanna one imagines #wanna one oneshot

[coffee-for-himchan]

Comeback (Zelo mafia/gang AU pt.1)

Requested by: a nice anon

Word count: 8k+

Genre/warnings: Mafia/gang AU (contains violence and swearing, alongside the regular mafia stuff too. But, as always, has cuddles and fluffy reunions and the rest of that stuff too, so no worries. It ain’t that dark)

Summary: He never thought he’d be coming back to his childhood home - not after everything that had happened there. Not after the night that turned his life around completely, and lead him to the way of becoming who he was now. But the mere thought of coming back to his roots and coming back to possibly meet you just like he used to every day almost six years ago had him basically running back into the right direction. Or maybe the wrong one, as disaster was just around the corner yet again, wanting you to part ways once again. 

THIS IS PART 1 // PART 2 IS HERE

It was a chilly autumn afternoon, and he was finally heading home.

Wandering along the all too familiar streets seemed so unusual yet pleasing after all this long time spent away. It caused tiny flashbacks that traveled down his spine in little daggers of nostalgic pain with every step he took, and he wasn’t sure if he liked it or not.

Not the childhood memories - those were the best times he’d gotten to experience in life so far, and he loved them with the whole remains of his heart. What he truly hated was the fact that it all was long gone, and his heart and feet had guided him here quite aimlessly as none of it was present anymore.

There was nothing left, he was more than simply certain.

Over the years he’d picked up the habit of cutting open and ripping apart old, already almost healed-up wounds in order to let them bleed once again with a new sensational burning feeling that filled his whole body with an unknown ache. After all, he wouldn’t be the “new, tall guy who was raised by Yongguk” if he wasn’t going to act this way. Among all the good things and habits Yongguk had taught him, some bad ones have rubbed off on Junhong as well.

And he’d developed the habit of thinking too much and not letting go.

Yongguk had warned him multiple times - he’d get nothing but pain from moving back to his old childhood home. And possibly get into trouble as well, though it was unlikely. But there seemed to be no way to prevent it, so instead Yongguk figured it might be better to help him than to not let him go. He was an adult already, after all, and was allowed to make his own decisions.

It’s not like he was going back to somebody - that’s the part that would only stay in his memories, as there was no one to go back to. He simply missed the past, as well as had enough of putting up with Daehyun who he had previously been living with. He was a quite messy and annoying housemate.

He’d grown up and had been raised right. It was time to go back now.

Entering the apartment felt a little good, but even more than that - simply uncomfortable. He’d seen a lot during the years. He was specifically made to watch the violence, being brought to the frontlines and pulled into risky situations during his practice period. He was always exceptionally good at all he was told to do - the learned how to use a gun in just minutes, and it didn’t take him long to learn how to see through the enemy and figure out their next move. But still, after all those sights and the events witnessed, after all the countless deaths - nothing compared to the pain he felt when he remembered what had happened here. And nothing ever will.

He had taken only a few things along, and it didn’t take him long to set them up. He waited for a night hour to get the rest - he’d learned to rather do missions at night than at daytime. And moving his belongings and furniture to a new place was a mission.. right? He treated it as one at least.

He sat down to look outside the window just to figure out nothing much had changed during the time he spent away. He was fifteen when he left, and now he came back as a young man in his early twenties. Yet he seemed like the only thing that aged, as everything else looked the same. The grayish buildings, and the half-lifeless trees in the yard. The faces of tired people who hurried through their lives to seemingly leave something behind, just to end up underground with no memory left of them instead. Yup, everything seemed still has hopeless as it used to be.

He noticed faces he hadn’t seen for years, and knew he would get loving yet sympathetic stares from all of them once he’d inevitably meet those people on the street, in the yard or in the middle of the staircase. He knew the words those people would tell, and knew the answers.

“Choi Junhong, is this really you!? Look at yourself, you’ve grown so much.”

“Yeah, it’s really me, thanks, miss.”

“Are you just coming by, or..?”

“No, no, I’m going to live here again from now on.”

“But.. Are you going to be alright here?”

Will he be alright? Only time will tell. So instead of digging up memories or thinking of how to prevent the many inevitable encounters with the people living in these nearby apartment complexes and going all back and forth through the yard every day, his thoughts kept trailing back to the only person he really hoped would still be around somewhere here.

His eyes were searching for you to be somewhere outside, and he promised himself to simply sit around and wait for your frame to appear somewhere. He could try to go and knock on your door, hoping you or your parents would answer instead of a stranger. But he rather wanted to meet you somewhere outside, just to spare himself the pain if he’d actually have to face a stranger upon knocking on your door, having to understand the fact you’d in fact moved away just like he did back then. Years have gone by, but if everything he’d known about you was still true to this day, you’d come around if you were still here. You never liked staying home that much anyways.

With a sigh, he figured he should probably do something productive. Youngjae had informed him about the plans for the night, and he wouldn’t get to set things up and clean up anytime soon considering he had no clue what state and condition he’d come back in tonight. He had to at least prepare himself a bed to sleep in, and a shower to wash the bloody aftermath of killing away.

But right as he got up, something caught his attention. With the very corner of his eye he noticed something familiar, yet quite different from how it used to be. But it was enough for him to recall the person he was looking at and a smile formed on his lips. He wasted no time running down the stairs, truly using his long legs to the fullest and skipping four steps at a time.

You were still here, and he simply couldn’t believe his luck.

You stood in the middle of the street, being busy typing a message on your phone. He ran outside, stopping dead in his tracks as he realized you were right there - only a few feet away from him. Not knowing what to do at first, he simply stood there and stared for a moment.

He could see your profile clearly, and he had to admit - it took his breath away. He’d recalled all your childish features, and he could see them all clearly even now when you’d grown up, and seemed like a whole other person. Almost.

For him you’d always stayed a teenager in his mind and imagination, and he couldn’t believe how beautiful you were aged up. More beautiful and breathtaking than he could ever imagine.

“(Y/N)!”

You were about to head into the opposite direction, slipping your phone into your pocket as you heard the voice and froze.

You knew it, didn’t you? Yet you couldn’t wrap your mind around it, up until you turned around to face the person calling.

Junhong-ah.

A moment of silence followed as you stared at his tall and dorky figure, standing in the middle of the street, smiling and panting a little as strands of hair kept falling into his eyes, but he didn’t seem to be bothered by it.

“Junhong-ah,” you whispered, still standing there, a smile forming on your face as you stared in disbelief. He was right there, in front of you, and not somewhere far away, having left you without a trace.

He was back home.

“Junhong-ah!!” all senses finally came back to you, and as the initial shock had died down, you simply ran into his arms.

Damn, he sure was shorter when he left. Like, a lot shorter. But he’d already figured you wouldn’t really be able to coordinate your bear hug that well, so he leaned in a little, and caught you in his arms with a swift move, letting you wrap your arms around his neck as he spun you around.

Leafs kept crunching under his feet, and the wind was nagging away at his ears, making them turn a light shade of red. But he didn’t care. He was holding his whole world in his arms once again, after all of these years. And after all of these years, he was finally able to properly smile again. Truly, and from the depths of his heart.

“Junhong-ah, you giant!” you cried out in happiness, the sound of your almost unchanged voice sending a wave of warmth down his spine as he stopped spinning, yet refused to let go, holding up your frame in a hanging position.

“Put me down, c'mon! I want to hug you properly!! And well, stand on the ground as well, if possible..”

“Or you could simply wrap your legs around my waist so we’re face-to-face,” he said, making you instantly blush, “God, I haven’t seen your pretty face in so long. Let me look at it.”

A little hesitant, but you did as told, soon feeling the support of his arms on the lower half of your body. And as you looked up, you were met with the eyes you missed oh so much. The most beautiful eyes in this world.

“You’re not worse yourself, Junhong-ah.”

For a while you stood there, trying to understand how this could even be possible. Yet all of the what-ifs and hows didn’t matter in the least. You were scooped up in his arms, just like you were always convinced it was supposed to be. Yet it never happened, because he’d moved away.

“What are you doing here though? Please tell me you’re staying for longer. Or at least tell me how to reach you once you’re gone again. Oh God, I’ve missed you so much, why did you vanish without a trace!?”

It all came out like a shameless waterfall when you spilled it right to his face, and it took him only seconds to feel all of the old feelings rising up in his gut. But he tried to repress it. For now, at least.

“Even better. I’m staying.” he said, and hoped to hear another one of your cries of happiness or laughs. Yet all he was met with was sudden silence and a worried stare.

“Wait.. Are you saying you’re..”

“Yes. I’m staying in my old apartment.”

He cursed to himself for ruining the atmosphere, but, since it couldn’t be helped anymore, he gently put you down, feeling like it was the appropriate time to let go anyways. Or at least not hold on that desperately strong.

“Junhong-ah.. Not to say anything, but.. Will you manage?”

You were looking up at him, your hands gently placed on his chest. A sudden thought pierced through his mind, and he wondered how you’d react if he told you he was quite scarred on that same exact spot you’d placed your hands on. Would you still want to rest them there if you knew he wasn’t picture perfect underneath all his clothing anymore?

“I..” he scratched the back of his head, looking away for a bit before turning back to you, “I hope I will. I’ll try my best.”

Your arms were wrapped tightly around him in seconds once again, and he felt glad and happy you returned the clinginess and the desire to be close.

“You dummy. This won’t end well. Why did you even decide to move back in first place!?”

“I missed home,” he said quietly, closing his eyes and exhaling rather loudly, “Well, or anything that’s still left of home. You, for example.”

You froze, making him notice the sudden change in body language and chuckle.

“Yes, you heard right,” he poked his nose at your hair, “I’ve missed you so much it started physically hurting at some point. Because you are a part of home, (Y/N). You’d always been and will always be. I had to come and see you.”

He told you he wanted to catch up as soon as possible, and was quite devastated when he heard you had studies planned ahead for the day. Him finally being back after everything that had happened was a miracle, and an occasion you were even ready to skip lectures for, but you held yourself back as good as possible. And he’d insisted you should go to study as well.

He was back, yes. But you couldn’t sacrifice your studies for him. So you unwillingly teared yourself away from him, promising to come by in the evening. Well, until you heard he had other plans, involving work. Hanging your head a little lower, you told him you’d hop by the next evening.

“You know the way,” he smiled a sad smile, making your heart shatter into a million pieces, “I’ll be waiting.”

You gave him a last smile, and left.

It was hard to concentrate on the mission at night. Youngjae had planned it to be a three-piece thing. Jongup had agreed to join willingly, as he was everywhere where blood could be spilled. And Junhong was replacement for Yongguk.

“You know he’s been  having a hard time recently,” Youngjae had told him earlier, making him nod in agreement, “And it would be nice if you could take on this task instead of him. It won’t be that hard, I promise.”

In theory there was nothing new or unusual about the mission, yet Junhong felt like he could be shot at any point because of how little attention he actually paid to the scene.

All his thoughts kept travelling back to you.

“What’s up with you today!?” Youngjae called rather harshly, making him snap back to reality, “I swear, next thing I know you’ll be drooling all over the place. What’s distracting you so much?”

Was screaming out “my former best friend who I’ve had feelings for all along and whom I’ve been just reunited with after more than five years” appropriate? It probably wasn’t, so he stayed silent.

Coming back to his old-new home with surprisingly less scars and wounds than planned later that night, he crashed into bed, waiting for all the days that would follow. All of the days that would once again feature you from now on. He didn’t know how it will turn out, and he didn’t know what to do to make it a good and safe situation for you. All he knew was he wanted to be around you, in any way possible. But preferably in a romantic way, as that was always supposed to happen, but never did.

* * * * *

“Junhong-ah!!”

No, not now. Not now and not ever again. It was his last night here, and he’d leave early in the morning. He wasn’t ready to face you yet, or face you ever again at all.

He wasn’t just leaving the neighborhood - he was leaving town. Probably forever, since from now on it was just him and his older brother. He was leaving to go into the unknown, and there wasn’t any space for you in his life anymore.

Even despite the fact you’d already taken up his whole heart.

He didn’t turn to face you, and kept walking on through the dimly lit street just to get away as soon as possible, even though he knew he couldn’t keep you away. You wouldn’t let him go without a proper goodbye, and he feared that the most. So when he heard his name being called out in desperate cries a few more times just to feel two arms wrap around him from behind, trying to prevent him from moving, he finally gave in. He stopped, and stood there, with his head hung down low.

“J-junhong-ah.. A-are you r-really leaving without even saying g-goodbye?”

He’d always been the one to prevent you from crying. To cheer you up when someone or something else had brought you down, and to make sure you were alright. Being the cause of your tears was a new feeling, and it didn’t spark a sensation of positive emotions inside of him. It rather made him feel hate towards himself and his actions.

“Yes, I am.”

He tried to resume walking, but you were clinging hard, crying and begging him to stop. It pained him, but he couldn’t help it. If he’d stop and turn, he’d do just what he really shouldn’t. And he wasn’t letting any of that happen, just to spare you and himself the additional pain that it will bring.

Fifteen years of age - is that enough to truly love someone? He kept asking that to himself every time he took a glance at your face, and every time he felt himself getting a little too close to you, wanting to be hugged, scolded, playfully laughed at or literally done anything to by you. It had to be just some type of teenage hormones or the things adults kept telling their kids all the time, right? Yet he refused to believe it.

After all, anyone at any age knew how to love. You could ask a five year old, and they’d tell you that they loved their umma and appa. You could ask an old, lonely retired person, and they’d tell you they loved their cat or dog, or their dear friends who they went off to play bingo with every Sunday. Parents loved their children, and best friends loved each other as well. Love came in many different ways and forms, so why couldn’t he feel love and attachment to you in the ways a man loved a woman, even though he was only fifteen years of age? Who said it was impossible?

“J-junhong-ah, please stop,” he heard your voice slowly fading away with every sentence, and what he’d feared the most happened only after a second. You slowly but steadily loosened your grip and let him go.

He continued walking for only two or three more steps before stopping right there and then abruptly. He heard your close to silent crying, but didn’t move, turn or do anything about it.

“A-am I..” you were choking on your own tears at this point, afraid of a voice crack if you continued speaking, “Am I.. R-really of no m-meaning or significance t-to you?”

Your words pierced like a dagger through his heart, and he felt himself starting to become visibly emotional as well.

“You mean so much to me, (Y/N)-”

“Then how comes you can’t even tell me a proper goodbye!!” your screams filled the street, and he was glad there were no people around, as well as no houses nearby. It was a quiet part of the town anyways, and a part of the street with no buildings around.

“H-how can you simply walk away from me like this?!” he gave in, slowly turning to face your devastatingly broken frame that was just a few feet away from him, shaking and sobbing as the harsh, cold wind didn’t help the situation at all, making you shiver, “We’ve.. We’ve know e-each other for so, s-so long, and now you’re s-simply throwing all of that a-away.”

His feet guided him back to you, and he knew he was doing wrong. But he couldn’t keep himself away from you anymore. So much pain was straining him all of a sudden, and this moment would bring him a little bit of closure. A sense of pleasure and affection in between the harsh reality that had occurred and would haunt him forever from now on. He’d be happy once again for a short moment, before he’d never be able to feel the same way ever again.

“It’s h-hard for you right now, J-junhong-ah, and I’d be l-lying if I said I knew how h-hard it is,” you continued talking on, having no sense of time and space whatsoever anymore, “But w-why do you have to t-turn away from me!? Out of a-all of the people, I w-want to help you the most, Junhong-ah. Y-your’re more than important to me, and I don’t know h-how, but I-I’ll make it better, I swear-”

You were cut off with him cupping your face with both hands rather harshly, and making you look up to him. Your tears kept dripping on his hands, but he didn’t seem to mind. He just looked at you, giving you a pained look and a broken smile.

And a soft kiss right after.

He didn’t know what he was doing, and neither did you. It was not only your, but his first kiss, and he figured he should be nervous to try what he’d seen in movies and had read about in a few books. But the recent events foreshadowed everything else in his live, and upon putting all of his emotion out recently, he was left emotionless. Drained and pained beyond belief, too sensitive to feel ever again. Until he let his mouth meet with yours.

After all of these years, he still recalled it. Recalled every single detail, except of remembering if he’d done anything wrong or not. It had felt so good, so nice and welcoming. You��d clung onto him back then, kissing back after a moment when you’d gotten the hang of it surprisingly fast, and you’d held him close. Told him “I feel the same way” when he told you he loved you. Cried once he let go again, and stood in the middle of the street when his frame vanished into the night. And after that, he never saw you again.

He walked on, and lived his life knowing he’d left you alone on the street, whispering for him to come back into your arms, letting tears drop to the ground as shaky sobs escaped your trembling lips. Leaving you to be alone, and leaving you for good, because he was the worst of all kinds. Or so he thought.

* * * * *

Days, weeks and even months passed, and he was still trying to get used to it. You would come around every now and then, and keep him company in evenings when his mind played tricks on him, telling him horrible, untrue things. He always welcomed you with open arms, holding you close and chuckling right into your ear as he felt the familiar loving feelings rising up in his gut at your touch. Nothing had changed indeed, he figured. You still took his breath away with every single movement and action.

Could it be possible that you still loved him? He couldn’t help but wonder, even though he knew it wasn’t right. After all, his life was far from being the same as before he left, while yours had stayed relatively unchanged. And it was far from being a safe and appropriate life, one that he’d like you to get involved in.

“So, are you still staying with your parents?” he’d blurted out on one of the first evenings of being re-united, sitting on the couch of his apartment with you and watching a movie.

“They moved away,” you told him, making him raise a brow, “The initial idea was that I’d move away, but soon we figured it would be better if I stayed and they’d leave. They’d been wanting to live in a larger apartment for years already, and this place is much closer to university than any other apartment I’d be able to get if I moved. So they gladly moved, and I stayed.”

“I’m so happy you did,” he said, making you chuckle and chuckling along, barely paying attention to the movie as all of his attention had been directed towards you since the moment you walked in through his apartment door a few hours ago. Letting the happy mood linger in the air for longer, he enjoyed the solitude until he had to go and do a few dirty deeds again tonight. Yongguk was still absent from activities, and that meant Junhong had quite a bit of assignments and burdens in his hands.

He was lying to you, which was another fact that kept him from confessing. He’d figured that walking up to you and saying “hey, I’m part of a mafia gang now” wasn’t the right thing to do, and after hearing a few genuine questions, had unconsciously let lies escape him.

“So, are you working already or still studying?”

“I’m.. Studying, actually,” he said, surprised at his own words. But what else should’ve he said? “No, (Y/N), I’m killing”?

“Computer science, if it interests you,” he vaguely remembered the talks of his hyungs about their destroyed life plans from long ago, and someone had said the words “computer science” back then. He couldn’t recall who it was anymore, but he thanked the person with all of his heart now. He was able to make up a good lie because of them.

“Wow, weird,” you chuckled, making him let out a questioning sound.

“You never seemed like the computer geek type, if you ask me. I thought you’d be off to do dance or something, to be honest, since that was what you’ve always loved doing,” you said, looking up at him and waiting for a reply.

“I did want to do dance at first, but… After, you know what..” he trailed off, instantly making you regret bringing it up at all, “I changed my plans. But don’t worry, I still dance from time to time. I’ve just given up on the dream of doing that for a living.”

* * * * *

The pain was inevitable after all, and with every passing day he felt like he was either getting closer to disaster or closer to paradise. There was a mutual desire in between you two that no one had the guts to admit, but it could be felt every time you entered each other’s homes. The burdens of a passionate and burning atmosphere hung over the room, with you two awkwardly in the middle of this whole mess, sprawled on the couch and throwing each other sneaky glances while the other one pretended to look away and not notice at all.

He couldn’t help but notice you were still the same person as before, just grown up now. You were still just as cheerful and as amazing as he remembered you, mesmerizing him with every single thing you did. You still sparked happiness and a feeling of endless joy inside of him by just being present, but most of all you still seemed desirable to him.

What had simply been emotional attraction had become physical attraction over the years as well, and he couldn’t help but stare you up and down when he thought you didn’t see. His main reason for loving you was still your personality and who you were as a person, but he just couldn’t deny how much he wanted to let his hands trail over your body. Feel those curves that left him speechless. Grip on those hips that swayed gracefully from side to side whenever you walked, as if calling him teasingly and challenging him to hold onto them. Leave trails of marks on your neck and collarbones that couldn’t be covered with any type of makeup, just so anyone would know. He’d grown up, and so had his desires.

It was inevitably the same to you. You still saw him as the boy who’d stood up for you during childhood countless times, some of those times even getting into fights and getting a bruise of two from swinging fists. Comforting you when you fell down from the swings. Helping you with schoolwork, just to realize he wasn’t capable with dealing with those problems himself and take you on a walk instead. The same boy that had eventually kissed you the night before vanishing for years, and told you he loved you with trembling lips and a pained stare.

He was the same, just grown up. So tall and well-built it took your breath away the first time you saw him again, until you looked up at his face and realized he was still just as cute as when he left. Still the same smile, and the same happy aura and emotions. And the fact his tight grip almost squished you when he hugged you and his now much lower than before voice told you he’d missed you only added to his aesthetic. You felt all of the old feelings, and hoped they hadn’t died down within him either.

It was a particularly rainy evening when he felt like he needed someone to bring him back to life. Nothing seemed to go right - B.A.P, despite being one of the leading gangs, was facing troubles every day now, and Yongguk’s absence from activities seemed to only put more and more burden and strain on everyone else’s shoulders. Himchan was used to leading nowadays, but knowing his best friend was in emotional withdrawal and troubles made him a quite cranky and worried man, ordering everyone around harshly just to apologize afterwards. And the others weren’t better themselves - everyone, all of a sudden, seemed to have some type of personal issues coming around the corner. Including Junhong.

Memories of that night kept coming back, and he called you up to come and join him in his darkest hour and the most emotionally painful time in life once again. You came in minutes, just to sit and talk the night away with him. Or at least to start it off like that, since your mind was telling you to do something slightly different this time around.

“Junhong-ah, can you explain one thing, please?” you asked, listening to the sound of raindrops hitting the window as you sat with your back against the cold, white wall on his bed, holding your knees close to your chest. He turned to you, and his glance seemed a little alarmed and wary, or so your thought at least as it wasn’t that easy to see in the poor lighting. The moonlight crept it’s way through the windows, and the only other light source was the fairy lights that were hung on the wall behind you. You’d brought them over to his place, and, despite his attempts to laugh at you and tell you that he wasn’t a teenage girl and wasn’t in need of fairy lights, he still loved them. He loved any type of attention and affection from you, after all.

“Remember when you..” you bit your lip slightly, starting to play with your bracelet to mend the rising anxious feeling in your gut, “Remember when you were walking away from me back then.. The day before you left?”

He remembered. You saw his sudden change in expression, and were sure he clearly knew what you were talking about. Both of you had lived in the present during this whole time, as you didn’t dare to bring up the past. You didn’t want to hurt him, yet you wanted to know a thing, so you spoke on.

“Junhong-ah, did you really want to, you know.. Leave me without saying goodbye first?”

He stayed silent for a moment, and you wondered what was going on inside his mind, as his eyes displayed a sense of pain yet again, and you were mad at yourself for being the cause of it.

“I.. Please, don’t be mad at me..”

“So you did,” you signed, lowering your head a little as you looked at your bracelet, carefully thinking of what to say next.

“Didn’t I matter enough, or-”

“No, no, it’s nothing among those lines,” he was a little too quick to correct you, feeling bad for making you feel that way about his actions.

“Then why did you do it?”

Silence hung over both of you, and you waited. Waited for him or yourself to say something, as this was clearly leading to a confession. It was a game of who would give in first. And a game of “true or false” to the statement “I still love him with all of my heart, and he loves me too even after all this time”.

“I had a hard time without you here, you know,” you chuckled a little, remembering, “We did text and call for a while, and I even thought I’d manage, but then you.. simply vanished. And I was so afraid, I thought I’d never see you again.”

“I though I’d never hear you laugh again, and I though I’d always have to cry on my own from then on, with no one who could cheer me up. You were my only friend, you know? I never really found new friends after you, and-”

“(Y/N), I-”

“And I thought that when you kissed me back then, you kissed me goodbye.”

It wasn’t far from being the truth, but conditions had changed since back then. He couldn’t help but know this wouldn’t end well, yet he wanted to give in. To cave in at the feeling of utter pleasure and satisfaction when your mouth met his again after all this time. To make you his just to take good care of you, but he wasn’t sure if he could guarantee you that.

He was still lying to you. And sooner or later the truth would be revealed, but he hoped for “later” to be the case as his lips parted, and his voice sounded just a little too raspy and dry to make it seem like he wasn’t on the edge of giving into his desires that had fueled him to come and find you in first place.

“And I never kissed you hello. Could I possibly do that now?”

* * * * *

He awoke the next morning to the sun shining on his face through the almost-closed blinds, and a yawn escaped him. He blinked a few times, staring at the ceiling just to freeze dead in his tracks as he felt something moving against his chest.

You were there, snuggled up at his side with the sleeping face of an angel. To be honest, at this point he was more than sure you were one, so he put in extra care to escape from your grip without waking you up and destroying the beautiful sight in front of him.

He stood there for a moment, looking down on your frame, a slight smile forming on his lips as he recalled the events of the previous night. Making sure to leave a barely-there trace with his fingertips on the marks he’d left your neck and making sure to adjust the blanket so it would cover your bare shoulder, he walked out of the bedroom just to get ready for the day and went towards the kitchen afterwards.

Breakfast simply had to be on him this morning, and he prayed he wouldn’t burn down the kitchen while making it. Or, well, attempting to make it.

He recalled it all clearly. The almost familiar taste of your mouth when he leaned in to kiss you and you didn’t resist, and your muffled begs for more. He recalled resting his hands on places he’d oh so desperately wanted to rest them on, and he remembered your positive response. Tongues battling it out and not wanting to let the other win. Clothes piling up on the ground. The most pleasing of your sounds crawling in and out of his ears as he himself let some of those slip. Marks being left on each other’s skin. Spending a solid amount of time destroying one another just to fix it all up afterwards. But most importantly, he recalled the words that had to be said long ago leaving your lips as you laid in each other’s grip, unwilling to move and do anything after finding each other in such a way finally, after all this time.

“Junhong-ah, tell me you still love me.”

“I do, with all of my heart.”

“Good, because I love you too.”

He soon heard water running in the bathroom, and put on the kettle to heat up some water, knowing you’d walk in just a few minutes later. When your frame appeared in the doorway, he turned to face you, and smiled instantly at your unusual shyness. All types of feelings had been bothering him since the very morning, and he imagined it must’ve been the same for you. But none of those feelings were unpleasant, and he took a step forwards, indicating for you to come closer.

“You look like an angel while asleep,” he mumbled into your hair after wrapping you up in his arms, “And taste like heaven.”

“I don’t recall you being this cheesy,” you chuckled, clearly blushing at his remarks, but not minding them at all. After all, this was exactly what you’d wanted - a romantic addition to this already quite beautiful relationship you shared, and a few cheesy compliments seemed just right on time now that things had kicked off.

“Isn’t my fault you’re messing with my head,” with a swift move, you were seated on the kitchen counter and his face was hovering above yours, his lips meeting your soon enough to experience what he’s been craving for since he could remember once again.

“Watch your dish, master chef,” you teased and chuckled as he pulled away immediately after hearing some screeching noises coming from the frying pan. Praying to God he didn’t in fact burn anything, he left you to chuckle at his almost non-existent cooking skill while he fixed it all up, just to direct his full attention back to you seconds later.

“Still edible?”

“I guess so.”

“Good. I’m quite hungry,” you couldn’t help but feel extremely happy at the change of atmosphere, hoping you wouldn’t ruin it with the next sentence.

“Junhong-ah?”

He directed all of his attention back to you, leaving the frying pan unattended yet again as his arms loosely wrapped around you. There was seemingly no way to keep him away from being affectionate this morning, and you carefully traced his jawline with your fingers as his face was hovering above yours, his eyes as dreamy as ever.

“What are those scars on your chest from?”

You felt his muscles tensing a little, and he let out a nervous breath, turning his head away. Despite knowing you’d eventually ask, he still hadn’t thought of what to tell you. So instead of coming up with an excuse, he tried to play it off as if he was ashamed about it. Which wasn’t far from being true anyways.

“They aren’t that visually pleasing, are they?”

“No, Junhong-ah, that’s not what I meant-”

“Quite ugly if you ask me. Don’t be afraid of admitting it. After all, it’s true and bloody obvious anyways-”

“I shouldn’t have asked, right?” you sounded worried and hurt, and he directed his stare back at you, hoping you didn’t take it personally.

“A car crash,” he simply answered, pinning his head against yours, “But nothing important or serious, really. I was seventeen, so that was long ago already. No need to worry, it’s all healed up and fine, okay?”

You shook your head, deciding not to continue the conversation. He was clearly avoiding the topic, and you figured he’d eventually tell you himself when the right time would come around the corner. If it would come at all.

“I don’t mind them,” you told him quietly, giving him a tiny, soft kiss, “I’m sorry for asking. Just know I don’t mind them at all, since I love all there is about you. I just wanted to know what had happened.”

“It’s alright. And I’m glad,” he smiled at you, and everything seemed to be back on track. The frying pan made sizzling sounds yet again, and he had to leave you to sit and chuckle again as he was trying not to fail his attempt at making breakfast.

Yesterday everything seemed so.. So full of the past and burdening. Too serious and dramatic, whereas this morning was like the calm after the storm. He was truly happy, ‘till the bottom of his heart, and you returned the feeling. So fooling around the kitchen just like usually, with the exception that this time around stealing kisses was involved too, you spent the morning together before having to wander off into separate directions for the day. Hopefully not for too long though.

* * * * *

You’d just come home from university, and it was rather late already. Putting down all of your belongings you’d taken along, you made your way further into the apartment, crashing onto the couch and browsing through your phone.

Tiredness had suddenly taken over your body, and you were sitting there, refusing to move or do anything really as spending some time on your phone seemed like the right thing to do. Upon answering a text from your friend, you went back onto the conversations screen just to notice Junhong’s name close to the top of it.

Memories of last night kept creeping their way back into your mind, and you couldn’t help but smile at it. He’d been there for the whole time, so close it was almost unbearable. Refusing to let go. Pleasuring you in every possible physical and emotional way. Giving you all the needed attention. Spiting out the truth after such a long time.

But it all was disturbed by loud knocks on your door. You furrowed your brows, walking up to it and peeking at who was standing out in the corridor, as you couldn’t really think of a person who could bother you this late in the evening.

An unknown man dressed all in black was there, refusing to leave until you answered. Mild fear immediately crept into your heart and soul, but you’d figured he was simply looking for someone else. He’d mistaken your apartment for someone else’s, and was about to leave. Or so you thought before hearing an unpleasant, harsh voice from the other side of the door.

“Open up, bitch, I know you’re right there in front of me.”

It took your breath away, and made you paralyzed, unable to move. Taking a few steps back, you almost dropped your phone while dialing the only person who your mind was capable of drifting back to.

“Hey, (Y/N), I just wanted to call-”

“Junhong-ah, there’s a man outside my apartment,” you whispered quietly, patiently waiting for a reply. The banging on the door continued, and only got louder with every second.

“What’s that noise in the background-”

“He keeps knocking, Junhong-ah. He’s been there for a while already, and he won’t leave until he gets here. Please..” you gulped, feeling your voice starting to shake a little, “Can you, like.. D-do something about it?”

“Wait for me. I’ll be there in a second.”

You couldn’t even properly respond as he’d hung up already, without any additional hesitation. And when you put your phone in your pocket, what you feared the most happened.

The door handle started spinning rapidly. He was clearly working on getting the door open.

You were about to go hide. About to go get any type of weapon to use against the man if there was the absolute need to do so. You were about to do it all, until the door creaked open, revealing his silhouette right in front of you.

“What a stupid little girl you are,” he said, stepping forwards and making you back away instantly, “Thinking I’d just leave. Didn’t you hear me?”

“What do you want?” you simply asked, feeling a little delighted upon realizing he wasn’t visibly armed, “I don’t have anything you’d possibly desire.”

“Yeah, except of a rather interesting family history and past,” he said, grinning as he got closer with every word, “And this lovely apartment that probably holds just what I need. Give it to me, and no one will get hurt.”

What was he talking about? Family history, apartment? He really must’ve had the wrong person in front of him, and you collected yourself, standing up straight.

“I don’t have the slightest clue what you’re talking about.”

“In that case,” he said, tilting his head and cracking his knuckles, “I’ve got no fucking use of you. You’re beyond useless, and definitely not worth sparing.”

He attacked soon, getting a strong hold of you the second he approached completely. No matter how hard you tried, you simply couldn’t resist his strong grip and weren’t able to move and fight back properly, as he had way more strength and force than you did. All of your kicks were useless, and all of your punches not worth throwing. He would win anyways, yet you tried.

Your faith was seemingly decided when he noticed the widely open door that lead to the balcony.

“How about you go for a little skydive, honey? Maybe a free fall?” he chuckled, pushing you out into the balcony and leaning your upper body over the railings. At this point you were already crying, fighting back with all you had in order to not let yourself fall. In order to not let this end. Yet it looked like your faith had already been sealed as you slowly felt your body going weak and your spine cracking as your feet lifted from the ground.

It was all going well for him, until the guy received a punch to his head and got tugged back into the apartment rather harshly. Your frame yanked back, and you sank on the floor, quietly observing the view in front of you.

Junhong had in fact made it just in time.

“Wow, wow, what is Yongguk’s right hand doing here?”

“Shut it and say a prayer.”

“I’d advise you to do the same thing. Since when are you fighting for justice?”

“Since I got into this mess.”

It was a full blown fist fight, and you felt fear creeping through you as you watched him. Sure, he was fighting to keep you safe, yet you couldn’t completely wrap your mind around what you were seeing. Was this.. really Junhong?

His muscles were flexed, and a little bit of blood was dripping from his eyebrow. His moves, attacks and defense was giving away the fact he’d done this a million times at least already, if not more. His face giving away the fact he enjoyed every successful punch, and his rage filled glance setting mild fear into your already trembling body.

This was far from being your cute Junhong-ah. This was a completely different person.

You crawled back into the room, watching him as he beat up the guy to death. Watching as blood stained the carpet, and as the man’s skull cracked at the impact with your wall. Listening to his broken whines and Junhong’s grunts and muffled screams as he punched harder, without even aiming properly at this point already. Watching as Junhong carelessly took a life, not holding himself back at all.

Watching as he killed a man.

When all was done, silence filled the room. You heard him panting as he stood with his back to you, his head hung down low. It took him a moment, but he turned back to face you, and worry was written all over his face as he approached, hoping you were all safe and fine.

“(Y/N), I-”

“Junhong-ah, is this really you?” you whispered, making him freeze dead in his tracks. Immediate fear went through his bones, and he thought out his moves.

Storming in. Punching and killing a man. It didn’t matter he’d done it all for you - it was still a sight you were seeing for the first time. Of course you were afraid.

“Yes, it’s really me,” he sighed, stretching out his hand and being surprised as you flinched away. Blood was staining it, and it only made all worse.

It had eventually come down to this. He’d showed his true face, and now the love of his life was curled up on the floor right in front of him, afraid to speak or move. Afraid, because she found out the truth, or at least a part of it, and couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe the fact that the guy whom she loved dearly was such a monster.

“(Y/N), listen, I’ll have a lot of explaining to do, but just know it’s really me,” he’d started, just to be met with a pained glance. Tears were straining your cheeks, and the words that left your trembling lips would stay in his memory for long, as they’d shattered his heart into a thousand little pieces upon leaving your mouth.

“No, you’re not the Junhong-ah that I’d known all this time. I don’t know who you are, but please explain. And bring the old Junhong-ah back, that is, if he hadn’t been a lie all along.”

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