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sekhisadventures · 1 year

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On the Nature of Souls

Valdrakken, a Room Above the Roasted Ram, Early Morning on the Second Day After Dissonantia’s Attack

Grimo was grinning ear to ear as he examined the fang that Jaie had gotten him, his goggles scanning it intensely as he nodded. “Yeah… yeah this is genuine one hundred percent high grade demon bits! Yer sure it was his?” he asked.

Jaie sat in her bed, the pandaren in a long white nightdress as she sipped from a mug of herbal tea the innkeeper had brewed for her. An ancient pandaren remedy that she’d taught them over the course of her time in Valdrakken. They had been worried that the dragonflights and their allies would be hesitant to trust mortals, but the drakonoids seemed insatiably curious about creatures from outside the isles. Jaie had made fast friends with the innkeeper, who was eager to learn all he could about modern cooking techniques from her.

“Yeah… I don’t really remember it… but Nelen told me I basically beat Az’arad to a pulp while I was all hopped up on Zhan-min’s brew.” she chuckled in a tired way, she still had deep bags under her eyes but she couldn’t sleep forever. Nitika knew the most about healing however, and had flat out insisted she stay in bed for the next several days after her ordeal. Almost losing her soul and almost being blown to bits by Raszageth’s power? It was a miracle she had survived at all!

If Grimo’s grin got any bigger, his head would fall off. “HAHA! YES! FUCKIN’ FINALLY!” he shouted triumphantly as Jaie winced, “This is perfect! I gotta get my ass back ta Bilgewater ‘n get to work NOW! Oh man Jaie I could fuckin’ KISS ya!” he cackled.

Jaie sighed, “Please don’t. Your breath is the stuff of nightmares.” she replied.

Grimo didn’t even hear her, the goblin already out the door and halfway down the stairs, making a beeline for the portal back to Orgrimmar! He was so focused on finishing his detection tool that he almost collided with Shalandrae and someone else on the stairs!

The druidess frowned at him, then shook her head in an annoyed way and walked to Jaie’s door, knocking gently on it. “Jaie, are you okay for another visitor? I’d understand if you need a break after Grimo…” she smiled at her.

Jaie nodded, “Yeah, I’m fine. I can’t sleep anymore… what is it Shalandrae?” she asked.

“Well, you remember how yesterday after you woke up you said that Dissonantia had tricked you into believing she was someone else… by being in her human form? Because none of us had ever seen her that way before?” she asked.

Jaie nodded, “Yeah… she looked way too young to be over a hundred years old. She didn’t have her horns or wings in that form either, she can hide them when she’s not a worgen!” she said, putting her mug down on the nightstand.

Shalandrae nodded, then beckoned her companion in as a faint clip clop sounded on the hardwood floor, and a draenei wearing the tabard of the Dragonscale Expedition entered. “Jaie, this is Aziguni, the draenei woman I met in the Ohn’ahran Plains that day we saw Raszageth for the first time.” she said.

Aziguni smiled at her, “I apologize for interrupting your recovery Miss Swiftpaw, but when Shalandrae told me the details of your encounter I felt my skills may be needed.” she explained, taking her book from her belt and opening it, showing Jaie several pages of wildlife sketches. Drawings of the barkar hunting hounds of the centaur, an ottusk standing next to a lifelike sketch of its Tuskaar companion, and the like. “I am used to drawing animals for my research records, but I am equally able to draw humanoids. If you can describe this warlock’s human form in detail, I may be able to make a sketch of her so that your allies will know what to watch for if she attempts to fool them again.”

Jaie grinned, “That’s a great idea! I mean, a ‘red haired Gilnean woman with a thick accent’ doesn’t narrow it down much…” she chuckled, nodding to a chair near her bed as Aziguni pulled it close. The draenei sat down on the chair, crossing her legs and propping the book against them as she opened it to a blank page and took out a charcoal stick.

“Now then Miss Swiftpaw, please, as much detail as you are able to remember…” she nodded as Shalandrae leaned into the wall to watch, curious as to how well the draenei would be able to match the reality of Dissonantia’s human form.

In the dining area below, Nelen was hard at work researching the nature of souls. He had been horrified to find out that Dissonantia had actually succeeded in casting her soul-stealing spell upon Jaie, but at the same time confused as to how in the world she had managed to resist it! He certainly wasn’t complaining, but he had to know if it was a one-time fluke, or if it was something about the cave she’d cast it in, or what… after all, Dissonantia would likely try it again eventually.

That being said, after yesterday it could be a very big eventually. It was quite likely that Dissonantia would have gone to ground after Jaie’s display of martial arts might and elemental power. The warlock likely had no idea how she’d done that and would wait until she’d be certain it wouldn’t happen again before returning.

Next to him was Edwood Vargas, who was muttering over Nelen’s copy of ‘The Inscrutable Nature of Being,’ a treatise written by an ancient Kirin Tor magi on soulcrafting and how magic could affect that part of a person.

To his right was Zhan-min, who had offered to help… but had found out pretty quickly that unless it involved elemental powers or alecrafting that he was pretty useless at research. He sighed, looking into his mug of ale. He felt horribly guilty about what had happened to Jaie. Even if it had worked out for the better in that she’d forced Dissonantia into retreat and even managed to acquire one of Az’arad’s fangs… well… Jaie had almost died because of him. It was enough to make him want to hang up his maces.

Nelen sighed, lowering his own copy of ‘Souls and Their Power’ onto the table, taking off his glasses and rubbing at his tired eyes. He’d been up late into the evening and had barely slept trying to crack the secret of Jaie’s inexplicable resistance to Dissonantia’s fel magic.

“It doesn’t make sense… I mean, I’m happy it happened. Incredibly so… but how on earth did Jaie manage to avoid having her soul ripped away? From what she told us Dissonantia hit her point blank with the spell. There’s no precedent for escaping something like that in any of my tomes…” he sighed.

Edwood shrugged, “Search me matey. I try ta stay away from it myself. Strikes too close ta what Arthas…” he paused and hocked a wad of something into a spittoon with a bell-like chime, “… did to us. That’s why I practice th’ school o’ Destruction. I’m basically a fire mage who stopped givin’ a shite.” he chuckled.

A cackle came from his shoulder where Guzzle sat. Edwood had been worried when the second floor of the Inn had been blown apart, but after the battle Guzzle had been located stuck in a snowdrift in the abandoned outpost. The blast had flung him out of the building entirely.

Zhan-min grunted, then downed the last of his ale and stood up, “Mm… ‘scuse me boys. Need ta take a ‘study break’ as it were…” he mumbled, heading to the door.

Nelen sighed as he watched him go. Jaie had already forgiven him. After all while the brew had almost killed her, it was because she’d overdosed due to Guzzle getting distracted and it had allowed her to free herself. From what she said the power it gave her let her rip the chains apart on her own… but while Jaie had forgiven him, Zhan-min hadn’t forgiven himself.

He ambled out of the bar into the crowded streets of the city, walking along through the throng of people towards the crafter’s area… the as he passed a bridge he paused, looking over as the sound of a familiar flute reached his ears. “Hm?” he blinked.

Across the bridge was the Little Scales Daycare, where dragon whelps spent most of their days in the city. It was like something out of a storybook. A small play area set up on one part of the platform, a nap area with huge cushions, a large collection of storybooks, and toys strewn about everywhere.

Sitting amid some of the whelps was Sekhi, playing on her flute for them as the infant dragons watched her curiously.

She paused as her ears flicked, then looked up, “Oh! Hi Zhan-min!” she waved to him, then looked to the dragons. “Sorry, I think I gotta go for a bit. I’ll come play some more music for ya guys later okay?” she smiled, getting to her feet as the young whelplings chattered excitedly and waved her goodbye, the vulpera walking across the bridge to her friend.

“Heh, you ‘n yer music Sekhi…” he smiled, “I wish that was my thing right now, but I’m all thumbs when it comes ta instruments. Can’t carry a tune ta save my life… or anyone else’s…” he sighed.

Sekhi pouted at him, her ears folding back. “Zhan… it wasn’t yer fault. Ya did warn Jaie, ‘n your thingy prolly saved her from Dissonantia’s demons…” she said.

Zhan-min snorted, “Yeah… fat lotta good it did… saved her from th’ demons only ta almost blow her up.” he muttered.

Sekhi frowned, “Yeah, almost! We fixed it though! Ya helped me, remember? We sent Raszageth’s spirit-stuffs back up inta th’ storms! She’s really, truly free now ‘n Jaie is gonna be all better soon!” she nodded.

Zhan-min shrugged, “Eh… I dunno… I just… feelin’ like maybe I shouldn’t do brewin’ no more if there’s that big a risk ta it.” he frowned.

Sekhi shook her head at him, “Zhan-min… your beer makin’ is how you do your shaman stuffs… every shaman has their own way of connectin’ to th’ elements, your’s is that.” she nodded, “Ya can’t give it up! It’d be like me throwin’ away all my instruments!”

Zhan-min shrugged, “Eh, I mean… I don’t wanna but…” he trailed off, looking away from the fox-like shamaness. “I feel like maybe I should after that…”

Sekhi frowned at him, then walked around behind him and held out a fingertip, whistling under her breath. As Zhan-min looked away, lost in his own self-loathing, Sekhi charged her finger with lightning and jabbed him firmly in the midsection!

There was a sudden sharp crack and the pandaren man jumped in shock, “G-GAH! W-what’d ya’ll do that for?!” he demanded, turning to face her as he rubbed where she’d touched him. The charge in Sekhi’s fingertip hadn’t been enough to injure him, but it’d still hurt!

Sekhi huffed, “ ‘cause you’re bein’ a doof!” she yipped at him, frowning… then her expression softened. “Jaie forgave ya. Ya can’t ask for more ‘n that… ‘n she wouldn’t want ya ta give up brewin’ ‘cause one brew turned out bad…” she nodded, “ ‘n besides… you’re a yippin’ shaman! Brewin’ is how ya talk to th’ elements. Ya can’t quit ‘n still be a shaman… ‘n I don’t think ya want to!”

Zhan-min sighed, then rolled his shoulders, “Mnn… I don’t… but…” he muttered.

Sekhi jabbed him again, in the belly this time, but Zhan-min didn’t feel that one. They didn’t call him ‘Irontummy’ for nothing after all. “BUT NOTHIN’!” she barked, “Tell Jaie. Tell her, to her yippin’ FACE, ya wanna quit makin’ beer.” she frowned, “Better yet, tell Galdia…” she smirked, raising her eyebrow.

Zhan-min winced imagining how that would go. Jaie would get upset, she’d insist that Zhan-min keep doing it, she’d go on about how his brews were one of the reasons she wanted him to join Avalon in the first place! Galdia… he turned a little green under the fur as he imagined how the beer-guzzling mag’har would react to news of his retirement. “Ah… hah… maybe ya’ll got a point there lil’ missy…” he muttered.

Sekhi giggled, wagging her tail behind her, “Yupyup!” she nodded, “Look, ya wanna take a break then take a yippin’ break… but don’t say ya gonna quit so easy. Ya might as well say you’ll stop bein’ a shaman.” she nodded as she smiled at him, then she looked up as her ears perked up. Above them flew… well… it was pretty disturbing looking, but then it was basically a horse fly that was actually the size OF a horse.

“… ew…” winced Sekhi, “I wish he’d find a new one…” she muttered.

The giant insect came in for a landing at the stables and its rider dismounted. He stretched, paid a rather unhappy looking drakonoid for the mount’s lodging as it clicked at him and tried to lick the stablemaster with it’s proboscis, then he ambled towards the entrance to the Roasted Ram. As he did he hummed an old song under his breath… in trollish.

Edwood and Nelen looked up as they felt his aura before they saw him, and Ed grinned widely. “Ahoy there matey!” he waved.

“ ‘ey mon! Heard ya had some fun wit da queen bitch in da Span!” said Mola’raum as he walked into the bar, his spear balanced over his shoulder as the runes on it glowed with a sickly green energy. The Maldraxxi troll walked to the table and flopped his long gangly body down in a chair.

“Sorry I couldn’t make it to da party wolf mon.” he shrugged at Nelen, “I be dealin’ wit’ dem Djaradin up north when de call went out. Can’t be answerin’ me gemstone in da middle o’ a buncha giants.” he nodded apologetically. “Nitts be tellin’ me wut happened…” he said, suddenly more serious, “Dissonantia tried ta take Jaie’s fookin’ soul?” he asked.

Nelen nodded, “Yeah, and somehow Jaie was able to resist it.” he replied, “But I’ll be damned if I can work out HOW! Ed and I have been going over tomes all bloody morning…”

Mola’raum raised an eyebrow, then smirked. “Uh… I know how she be doin’ it mon.” he grinned.

Nelen’s head jerked up as he locked eyes with the death knight, Edwood looking at him rather intensely as well. “How?” asked the worgen, rather pointedly.

Mola’raum chuckled, “Wolfmon, ya remember wut be happenin’ in da Shadowlands right? How we joined up with da covenants ta stop Zovaal…” he grinned at him. “Remember wut dey did so ya could stand toe ta toe with ‘is Mawsworn?” he asked with a smirk.

Nelen frowned, but Edwood grinned suddenly, “… ah… o’ course! No wonder Jaie fought it off!” he cackled, “It wasn’t JUST her!”

Nelen looked at his former schoolmate, then at Mola’raum as the troll smirked at him. “… okaaaaaay, I feel as though I’m missing something here. Fill me in?” he asked.

Mola’raum grinned, “Da soulbondin’ ritual wolfmon.” he smirked as Nelen’s eyebrows went up. “Dissonantia never did it, remembah? She say she didn’t fookin’ need it… but ya did, ‘n so did da rest of us…”

Nelen nodded slowly, closing his tome carefully. “Of course… no wonder it wasn’t in any of my tomes… none of these magi ever went to the Shadowlands until after they died…” he whispered.

Mola’raum chuckled, “Ya mon! It be one of da reasons de covenants started doin’ it in da first place! Azeroth not be da first world where de Kyrian had ta worry bout soul-suckin’ warlocks!” he said, “… eh… no offense Ed.” he added.

Edwood chuckled, “Aye, I get it Mola… but aye, that’d do it. First bloody thing th’ Maldraxxi told me when it was me turn fer th’ ritual… Soulbonds are forever.” he nodded.

Mola’raum grinned, “Bingo bruddah.” he said, “When Dissonantia started yankin’ on her soul, whoever she be bonded ta back in Ardenweald be feelin’ it… ‘n dey yank back! Ol’ Dis never had ta win a game o’ tug o’ war ta get a soul before!”

Nelen let out a sigh of relief, “Thank Gordrinn… I was afraid it was a fluke or something… but if anyone who’s soulbonded is immune to her power…” he started, but Mola’raum suddenly looked deadly serious as he held up a mail-covered hand.

“Woah mon. I nevah said we be immune ta havin’ ‘em taken.” he warned, “Soulbondin’ HELP, but all it mean is dat Dis gotta overpower TWO souls ta get our’s. She still be Dissonantia, she strong enough ta do that if she be figurin’ out why it didn’t work…”

Nelen frowned, “… damn… you’re right. Still, knowing my bond to Dacures back in Revendreth can help me fight that off definitely makes me feel better.” grinned the magus. Dacures had been a rather scholarly Venthyr that Nelen had made friends with during their time in the Shadowlands, and after a long night of academic pursuit the vampiric man had offered the soulbond to ensure that they would remain connected in their love of learning.

Mola’raum nodded back, “Ya mon. De only one dat likely be totally immune to it be me… ‘n I wouldn’t be recommendin’ how I did dat one.” he smirked, “De death ritual… well… it fookin’ hurt fer one.” he nodded.

Nelen winced at that. As a death knight his soul was permanently bonded to his own body ensuring that, even if he died, he would return a few days later unless his form was totally and utterly destroyed. He was basically his own phylactery, a ghost possessing his own corpse. “Mmm… I think I’ll pass…” agreed Nelen.

Above them, in her room, Jaie peered over at Aziguni’s sketchbook, nodding. “The chin was… yeah, just a bit more pointed there… and the nose was sort of… prominent. Not huge, but… definitely noticeable… and… yeah, YEAH! That’s her!” she said, “Wow… you really are good at this…” she whispered.

Aziguni smirked, “I have lived for many many centuries Miss Swiftpaw. I have had, how do you say… a lot of practice.” she replied, tearing the page out and handing it to Shalandrae. “Here you are my friend. Your worgen nemesis, without her fur.”

Staring up from the page was a lifelike image of a human woman in monochrome, with a few annotations by Aziguni. A line to her hair reading ‘red’ and her eyes reading ‘hazel’ and such, but so realistic that Shalandare could almost imagine the drawing winking at her. “Excellent, thank you SO much Aziguni! This is going to help us out a lot!” she grinned, “Dissonantia won’t be able to use her human form against us now…" she paused, looking back down at the drawing with a frown, "... and it would have worked too. I wouldn’t have looked twice at this face in Stormwind…” she said, a chill going down her spine.

Had Dissonantia used her human form before to spy on them? They’d have never known if she had, she had always insisted on remaining a worgen the entire time she’d been part of Avalon. None of them knew the truth of Dissonantia’s immortality, the had no idea she’d cracked the secret of anima. They just knew she consumed souls to extend her life. For all they knew this is what she’d always looked like in her human guise.

Shalandrae nodded, then ducked down the stairs to share the drawing with Nelen and the others, knowing the magus would be able to use his own scribe techniques and arcane magic to make copies of it to share among the members of Avalon and Savage United with ease.

Jaie watched her go, then glanced at Aziguni, then smirked and laid back in her bed. “Just ask her.” she giggled.

Aziguni blushed, glancing at Jaie. “Er… I beg your pardon Miss Swiftpaw?” she asked.

“Jaie. Just Jaie.” she grinned, “And just ask her. I saw how you were looking at her when she left. I may still be punch drunk from what happened, but I’m not blind…”

Aziguni blushed, then gathered up her things. “… perhaps, when the world is not in danger…” she said, “I mean, I still have my duties to the Dragonscale Expedition. I cannot be doing those when I am distracted…” she protested, tucking her charcoal stick and her book away.

Jaie smirked knowingly, “I dunno, you seem pretty distracted right now…” she said, then yawned, “Buuuuuuut… I could use a nap after all that… just, think about it okay? Shalandrae has been through a lot these past few years… she deserves a win.” she murmured, curling up under the blankets.

Aziguni chuckled softly and walked to the door, closing it gently behind her. Then she glanced at her sketchbook and opened it up, showing another portrait she’d drawn recently from memory. It showed Shalandrae, smiling at the viewer.

“So… I am what you would consider a ‘win’ then?” she smirked, tucking it away, “… perhaps… perhaps…” she shrugged.

#adventures in azeroth #world of warcraft #warcraft fanficion #warcraft roleplay #dragonflight

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marchtothefuckingsea · 2 years

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Ace Of Clubs: Chapter II - First Case

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

Word Count: 2.3k

Chapter Warnings: Canon violence. Lightly proofread.

Summary: Someone is messing with Ace. They finally ask Nick a pressing question.

So the animals debated how they might drive the robbers out, and at last settled on an idea

Recap:

"The captain left maybe, fifteen minutes ago." Nick said, following my gaze. I nodded, walking off. I heard the rustling of gathering items as I exited the room, before two pairs of footsteps joined me.

I called out, "Night!" to the detectives as they split off to their own cars. I paused for a brief second, looking around cautiously and pulling my switchblade out of my pocket. I walked briskly to my car. A tall figure suddenly appeared next to me as I reached for the handle, and I leapt back, my blade springing out of its holster…

I simultaneously pressed an arm to my side, a choked cough escaping my throat as I hunched over in pain.

"It's just me." Renard said, resting a hand on my shoulder. I jerked back, another cough causing a jolt of pain to rip through my stomach. I leaned against my car, face screwed up in pain as I attempted to compose myself. "Jesus fucking christ." I gasped. I took a deep breath before straightening up.

"Sorry, I just wanted to talk to you." He apologized, his hands in his pockets. "I was thinking, you said you have people after you, right? Tracking you?"

"Yeah, and?"

"Is it safe for you to be staying in that apartment of yours long term?"

"Probably not," I agreed reluctantly. "But it'll do for now." He frowned, his eyes glancing around, watching for anything out of place, before returning to mine.

"I'll be fine." I smiled reassuringly, trying to convince him as much as myself. I turned back to my car, tugging the door open and settling into the driver's seat tiredly as I watched him walk away. Truth be told, the whole settling down thing had concerned me, too. I wasn't really sure how I was going to do this, plus work with the police, and still stay under the radar.

I drove 'home' in somewhat of a pained daze, the lack of painkillers just now catching up to me. As soon as I unlocked the door, I entered with caution, checking every room habitually, before heading straight to the bathroom and downing the pain relievers. I sighed, splashing water onto my face and stumbling to the bed. I flopped onto it with a groan, remembering I should probably change my bandages. I rolled onto my side, contemplating if I really needed to or not, dozing off into a restless sleep before I could decide.

I awoke with a start, breathing hard as my eyes darted around the room, the remnants of a nightmare clinging to my consciousness. I glanced blearily at the clock that read 5am and groaned, carefully propping myself onto my arm. I swung my legs over the edge of the mattress, stumbling into the 'kitchen' and making myself a strong cup of coffee.

"Back to the old routine." I sighed under my breath, though I could have screamed it out and no one would have heard me. I slumped into a chair at the dining table, resting my head on my arms tiredly and sucking in a deep breath. My heavy eyes struggled to open after every slow blink, but I knew better than to allow myself to drift off again.

The coffee maker became silent. I pushed myself away from the table with great effort, wincing at the slight pain that remained in my abdomen, a reminder that I had to take the painkillers before I left. I chugged down my first cup of coffee in only two breaths, before refilling the cup and pouring the rest in a thermos. I fell into the chair again, taking a more leisurely sip from the cup and pulling one of my father's aged books towards me.

I stayed this way for most of the morning, enveloped in the ancient texts and transfixed by the elegant handwriting. I had read through each of them at some point- most likely skimming through the pages trying to find out about another type of wesen- but I tried to find the time to sit down and allow myself to be immersed in the tales, the journeys my father and his, and many others before him, had lived through and were written.

I was startled out of my trance some six hours later, when my phone rang loudly.

"Hello?" I answered cautiously.

"It's Nick." I sighed in relief.

"Yeah, what's up? Anything new come up with the case?"

"We have an address, we think it's a lead. Was wondering if you wanna tag along?"

"I'm on my way." I said before he could finish. A text popped up on my screen moments later, the address. I glanced up, frowning when I realized I had drank the thermos of coffee too. I shrugged on a jacket, heading out the door and fumbling with my key before turning it in the lock, briefly jiggling the doorknob to make sure it was locked.

"An abandoned factory?" I questioned as I stepped out of my car.

"I thought the same thing." Hank agreed, looking around.

"Well, we'll see." Nick said, taking the lead.

I fell behind the both of them, taking in our surroundings cautiously. I bumped arms with Nick, who glanced at me questioningly, when I noticed something shuffling among the stuff piled along the wall, nodding my head towards it. We moved closer, before we made our presence known.

"Hey!" The homeless looking man looked up at us, startled. He rose to his feet.

"We just want to talk. This address is associated with the culprits of a bank robbery. Do you think you know any of them?"

"The monsters. I can't tell."

"Who? Who's that?"

He shook his head, becoming agitated. "I can't tell. They'll kill me if I tell."

"We just need names, descriptions, anything. Here, I have these photos here, if you can tell me-" Nick explained, extending his arm to show the man the pictures.

"One of them, his name is Gus. I've said too much." He cut himself off, suddenly panicked, before darting off. We shared a quick glance before giving chase through the abandoned building. I fell behind quickly, the motion of running causing shocks of pain to travel through my torso. I stopped, panting and hunching over, watching Nick and Hank give chase, coming to a stop just before they left my vision. They looked around in confusion before glancing back at me. I shook my head, indicating I didn't see where he went.

I heard footsteps nearing me as I leaned against the wall, suddenly exhausted. Hank was the first to reach me, I saw when I looked up, his hands hovering over me hesitantly.

"You good?" He asked in concern.

"Fine." I huffed. "Still healing."

"From what?" Nick questioned.

"I got attacked. About a week ago."

"That's pretty soon to be up on your feet, don't you think?" I straightened up, setting my jaw. I stayed silent for a moment, before giving them both a tight smile.

"I've had worse." Hank nodded knowingly, though his eyes still trailed over me, making sure I was okay. I walked alongside them slowly as we headed back to our vehicles, listening as they spoke.

"I think I'm going to head home." I said in a low tone. "I'm not feeling that great."

"Are you sure you're good?" Nick questioned. I nodded, pursing my lips. I was fine.

When I entered my apartment, I flopped tiredly onto the sofa, heaving a sigh. My eyes trailed around the room, and I suddenly straightened up when I noticed the book at the table had been closed neatly. I stood up, walking over to it cautiously, as if it might jump up and attack me. I opened it, flipping through the pages until I found the one I had been reading a few hours ago.

"I swear I left this open." I muttered, flipping it shut again and glancing at it suspiciously before I headed off to bed.

I woke up for the fourth night in a row by nightmares plagued with being jumped in my apartment. The past few days, I had returned to my apartment finding little things out of place. It wasn't much; a book changed position here, my laptop closed when I had left it open. Whoever was messing with me had even gone so far as to swap the book I had left on the dining table with a different one. I was losing my mind.

I called Nick, sighing in frustration when I got his voicemail for the second time. I finally settled for leaving a message.

"Nick," I said, my voice edged with the panic I had felt bubbling up to the surface these past few days. "It's urgent. Call me back."

As I hung up, I began to pace in worry. I wasn't losing my mind. I was not losing my mind. I was not losing my mind. Those things had been moved. But everything was so subtle, it could have been the stress, it could have been the fears in the back of my mind coming to the surface. I had done everything I could to hide my tracks since I decided I was staying. There was no way-

I jumped when my phone rang in my clenched hand, nervously checking the caller ID before I answered.

"Nick, I'm sorry to bother you but-"

"Ace, I called you back as soon as I could-" We both said at the same time. I cut myself off, as he did too. I sucked in a deep breath, trying to get myself under control. I was a nervous wreck, but I wasn't going to let anyone see that. I shouldn't have let myself hope that I could settle down, I shouldn't have-

"What's wrong? Are you okay?" Nick demanded.

"Do you know what a..a scythe symbol is?" I didn't bother trying to reassure him. "What it represents? Is it wesen? Grimm?"

"Reapers." He answered grimly. "They're bounty hunters, their main purpose is to kill grimms."

"Have you ever had them come after you?"

"You could say that- Ace, why don't you just come over to the trailer, I'm already here. You know where it is, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah I'll be right there. Thanks Nick. Thank you." I snagged my keys off of the table, fumbling with the lock and taking a second look at how everything was placed. Halfway to my car, I halted. Turning back, I hastily unlocked the door again, pulling my phone out and snapping a picture.

I rapped my knuckles on the door, my eyes darting around nervously. As soon as Nick opened the door, I barged in, apologizing profusely.

"Woah, hey calm down. I have the book out."

"Thank you Nick, really. I'm so sorry about the short notice thing-" I apologized, following him over to the desk. He motioned for me to sit down, standing behind me and pointing out the pages. As I read, I began to put the pieces together, and my mind calmed just a bit; Knowing and having an idea who these people were, and why they followed me so loyally.

I stood abruptly, startling Nick. "You said they've been after you before?" I asked. "They're not now? Why?"

"I don't know. They just stopped sending people after me. Maybe they realized it wasn't working?"

"But if they're out to kill grimms as much as this says they are, they should be all over you. You've probably done the most, honestly, being a cop." I began to pace again.

His eyes sparked in realization. "Maybe they saw that I don't hunt wesen. I arrest them, but I don't treat them differently from any other criminals. I only use my abilities to aid in cases..huh." He trailed off. "But then, what would they want with you? You only go after the bad ones, right? They should've seen that by now."

"I kill them. I'm not a cop, I can't deal with them the same way you do. If they can't be reasoned with, I have no other option."

He nodded. "Ah."

"Did they mess with your things?" I asked suddenly.

"What?"

"Did they come into your house while you were gone, look around, move things?"

"No, they were pretty straightforward." He mused. "Are you sure this is still the reapers?"

"Nick, you don't understand, I've done everything I can to cover my tracks. Especially since I decided to stick around Portland; I ditched my car, changed my phone, god I've done fucking everything and they still manage to find me-" My voice increased I'm distress, the tension in my throat causing my voice to crack.

"Ace, Ace look at me. Calm down." He placed his hands on my shoulders and I took a deep breath, trying to at least calm my rapidly beating heart. I sighed, my forehead coming to rest on his shoulder as he hesitantly pulled me into a friendly hug.

"I'm fine. Sorry." I mumbled after a moment, pulling away. "Just a lot of change happening too quick, I guess. I'm not usually like this."

"It happens to all of us." He reassured me. "What do you want to do?"

"I-I don't know. I think..I think I'm going to head back to my apartment, I guess."

"Is that safe?" He questioned.

"Yeah, I guess. I don't know." I turned to walk out of the trailer. "Thank you."

"If there's anything else out of place when you get back, leave. Call me, and don't go back in."

"I will, thank you."

When I returned to the apartment, I immediately pulled out my phone before touching anything, comparing the photo I had taken with the area in front of me. Nothing had been moved. I narrowed my eyes in suspicion, cautiously walking in, my eyes darting around. There it was. The book I had left lying open on the coffee table was on the page of the Hässlichen; I had left it on the klaustreich page. My eyes skimmed over the page, falling onto the German text.

"'A Hässlichen is a troll-like wesen. They seem to make up the majority of the reapers.' Huh." I read under my breath. I had never noticed, or paid any attention to, that piece of text.

What were they hinting at?

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marshmallowprotection · 3 years

Text

Gladiolus.

Description: Jihyun Kim knew what he had to do to protect both Saeran and Saeyoung, but what happens when he realizes that he needs to help himself and change the course of his life to accomplish it? Will he have the strength to be the Dad that he needs to be for them in the face of his mistakes and victories?

Photographer Saeran AU

Word Count: 10500

Based on this idea and thanks to @dailysaeran for drawing baby Saeran!

[Read on AO3]

Jihyun had heard that the winds of change could come into your life and dismantle everything that you thought would last forever. Life wasn’t always a constant stream where the water would twist and turn around the rocks the same way. The weather would change, the temperature would change, the currents would change, and even the animals that lived in the water would change as the seasons passed.

It had been something that he had gone through twice before, but this change wasn’t one that he ever expected to come. It had been a realization that had been a long time coming, but he hadn’t allowed himself to see just how much he needed to stop and reflect on the man that he became as his life shifted to much more mature adulthood.

The first time things changed, he lost his dear mother and it changed the way that he believed in love. Her adoration and commitment to him had made him believe that he needed to care for the people he loved no matter what, without fail, even if it meant that he would sacrifice himself. In hindsight, now he was able to see how this extreme wasn’t the right way to handle his feelings towards others.

His mother had always loved him and wanted the best for him. But, at that time, he had been a stubborn young man who had layered issues with his mother. It wasn’t her fault that his father had taught him to feel complicated about his mother, and it certainly wasn’t her fault that V had come to realize too late that his father had manipulated him to believe in his lies. He had been so afraid as a child of his father seeing his true passion.

His fears and insecurities forced him into pushing his mother away over and over again, but she kept believing in him and pushing for him to find his dream. Her sacrifice for him during the fire that claimed her life had been what changed Jihyun forever. He thought that to love someone, he had to give everything for the rest of his life, even if that meant trying to help someone by being too pushy.

His mistake here had nearly cost him everything.

It had almost destroyed him, in the same way, that his mother had been destroyed by her love and compassion for her son whom she loved dearly. He had learned the wrong lesson and it was only recently that he was able to understand that.

The second time things changed, he had met Rika, and by extension, he would eventually come into contact with Saeyoung. His love life with Rika had always been intense, blinding as the sun as the two of them tangled their broken hearts looking for a savior to believe in. But, their love wasn’t right for one another at the end of the day, and the more they argued the less idyllic their reality became.

He wanted to help Rika escape from her nightmares and trauma, but he had no idea how to help her in the way that she needed him to. He thought that allowing her to fixate on her darkest and scariest thoughts by subjecting him to them instead of herself, would help her to break free of the chain. She was a star that was on the brink of exploding when he met her, and every single day, he idealized this and found a muse within it.

It hadn’t been a healthy relationship once their feelings became tangled with the fruits of poison but as that realization grew to a fever pitch, V couldn’t ignore the cycle that had been created. Even if they ignored it and tried to make things work, it was never going to work and they were needless in the way that they continued to subject themselves to something that would never make them feel the love that they deserved.

Everyone thought that their love was perfect, but it was far from the truth. This was realized just as they began to help the twins. Saeyoung and Saeran Choi were two young boys who had been living in hell their entire lives, and they were trapped in a cycle of abuse that they could not get out of on their own. Rika had been taking care of Saeyoung for a while, gaining his trust through the church and trying to help him bring more food and clothes home to his sickly twin.

She’d known him for quite some time before Jihyun met him. But, Rika had been upfront with him about the life that this young boy lived, and it didn’t take much consideration for him to so badly want to help. Saeyoung was willing to do anything, try something, or beg if it meant that his brother could be safe and sound away from harm. Their mother was using them to blackmail their father into getting whatever she wanted, and without them, she wouldn’t be able to assert that control.

Rika, at first, wanted to simply remove the boys in the dead of night and run. V thought that wasn’t a bad idea, but when Saeyoung admitted the identity of his father, they both knew in their hearts that running wasn’t going to be a viable option.

It was in their hunt to find a way to get the older twin an escape that V met someone from the agency. A fan of his that loved to buy up so many of his photographs happened to be working for an underground facility that took any intelligent young people under their wings. The man spun it to him like being an escape from reality, an action movie suddenly came to life that would give the budding Choi a place to learn how to use his skills to protect himself.

As Saeyoung had proven to be quite skillful with programming, the books that he had been studying that had been given to him by Rika had come in handy. He was able to prove that his skill was worth the trouble it would take to train him properly to the man, and Jihyun was able to make a deal through that, giving Saeyoung safety within the confines of secret protection where his hacking skills could eventually help him hide everything about himself and his brother.

For the time being, Saeyoung would have to let go of his twin to go into the agency to study and become what they wanted him to be. There was no telling how long he would owe the agency his life and skill, it could’ve been years or it could’ve lasted his entire life. But, the deal would give him time to figure out how to become the strongest person that he could be. It would allow him to protect his brother, which is all he wanted.

In making this deal with the agency, he made a second deal with V for it. Saeyoung was a very firm negotiator when he wanted to be. The promise was that as long as Saeyoung was in the care of the agency, V and/or Rika would have to care for his brother and keep him hidden. It was this large promise to make that meant that everything in their lives would change, but V took this deal because he knew it was the right thing to do. He wanted nothing more than to protect those boys with his entire heart.

He had never been this committed to the idea of protecting children before, but he supposed that he saw his pain in their eyes. He never wanted to see another child hurt from whatever they lived through, no matter how deep the pain buried itself into their bodies. This deal was made and the older twin had to leave without warning. His heart ached to know that he couldn’t tell his twin where he was going.

People in the agency weren’t allowed to have connections with family or loved ones. If they did, people would use them as collateral and the agency couldn’t have their members breaking down every time someone wound up kidnapped or used a prop. Saeyoung couldn’t stomach the idea of knowing that his brother would get hurt when this was to protect him, so when the day came and he had to leave?

He hugged his brother tightly as he was still resting and apologized, leaving during the time before the sun rose with just the clothes on his back. Saeran would be okay, but he had to break his heart into pieces to do it. His little brother was everything to him and just knowing that he could taste some kind of freedom was all he needed to choose to leave. Saeyoung had tears in his eyes that day, but he never stopped smiling.

Those words that Saeyoung spoke still haunted him somewhat, as the undaunted expression in his eyes grew; “Saeran will have a good life. I know he will. He’ll be free to look at the grounds and get any kind of ice cream that he wants after dinner from now on. He’ll get to experience all kinds of firsts… he can read, draw, and try all kinds of things with you, V. He’ll make friends, he’ll fall in love, he’ll have everything that he could ever want. Thank you.”

That hung heavy on V’s shoulders as it was a tall order to fulfill. But, he took that promise and he kept it deeply interwoven inside of his heart. Even as his and Rika’s relationship came to an end in a matter of seconds. Rika realized after just a short time being around Saeran that his pain was too great compared to her own, and it reminded her too much of her mother and the pain that she had suffered.

She wanted to protect Saeran, but this realization had given her the ugly truth. She couldn’t give him the love that he needed alongside V… because her heart was still wounded, and she wanted to heal herself in the right way before she tried to help someone in need in the way that he truly needed. His pain was like her own, and in seeing that, she knew that she needed to end things with V to be able to help herself.

As they had been growing apart over some time, V understood why she chose to do this and he knew that it was coming no matter what happened. They had never been perfect for each other and trying to force themselves to stay together to take care of Saeran simply wasn’t going to help that child in need.

Rika dedicated herself back to going to therapy consistently and decided to put all her energy into creating the RFA so she could help Saeran and other children like him that way, removed from the situation but still close enough to provide help.

She loved V but their love couldn’t ever be more than what it had always been, mere infatuation and trying to cover their wounds with a meager bandaid that couldn’t heal the problem. He cared for her greatly but at the end of the day, love could not bloom and prosper in a garden without a drop of water in the intense heat of the sun.

V understood his failing in their relationship as well, and through her insistence, as well as the urging of Jumin, he decided that he needed to get help for himself as well. Even if getting help was such a taboo in his culture, he knew that he needed it. He knew that his heart was wounded and to be a better man, he had to acknowledge what he had gone through. After all, if he was to be Saeran’s father, he wanted to be worthy of the title.

He wanted to be able to prove to not only himself but everyone around him that he could do the right thing. It wasn’t easy for him to face his demons but it was a process that he wanted to start for his heath. While that started and he and Rika separated, he slowly took the time to lure Saeran away from his mother’s grasp day by day. It started with Rika convincing the woman to let him come to the cathedral every so often.

But, in due time, the longer that Saeran was gone, the less time that his mother was aware of her surroundings and the people around herself.

She had been drinking often since Saeyoung had left and it left her out of her mind for lengthy periods. When she was too dazed to even process what her name was, much less where her child was, that’s when V and Rika snuck in during the dead of night when she was passed out and there was no sign of any watchful eyes from Saejoong Choi.

Saeran was removed from her household and brought to V’s house in the secluded mountains, far from the city but just close enough that they wouldn’t have a lengthy drive if push came to shove and they needed something.

That woman was left in her despair but her fate hung in the balance the minute that she was left alone. They took extreme measures to make it look like the boys hadn’t even lived there in the first place, but whatever Saejoong Choi decided to do with that woman… it would be the price of her sins to face alone now that she no longer could use the boys as puppets. Neither V nor Rika would look back or try to discern her true fate.

It would be up to fate in that case and they would shield Saeran from that reality as much as they could. He might have cared for the idea of his mother as he craved a family where he was wanted and loved, but she wasn’t someone who truly loved her sons. They couldn’t be properly called her sons because she never treated them the way a mother should treat their child. She simply did not deserve that title.

Regardless, with Saeran under his care, he was finally able to wake up one morning and know that he had a bed that couldn’t be taken away from him. He’d been given his bedroom with anything that he could desire. Saeyoung had told them about some of the things that he liked and it helped them figure out what to gift him to make him feel more at home.

It was a lot for Saeran all at once, though.

His eyes flooded with tears that day as he realized that he had a bed for the first time in his life. He looked back at V and asked him, “Is that mine?” The twins had slept on a mat on the floor with only a single blanket to share between them. Saeran often wound up wearing the blanket after he fell asleep because Saeyoung would refuse to take it. So, a bed was like the biggest gift this child had ever seen.

Saeran’s eyes flooded with tears as he hugged V without thinking, looking at him with the most joyful expression in his eyes. V felt his heart jump when he did, and a lump grew in his throat as he ruffled the boy’s hair and smiled in return. This was what Saeyoung wanted, his twin to be able to have the very thing that they had been denied from their birth, a home with a family that would protect him.

He had been barely fourteen years old, but the way his donated clothes clung to his body and how short he was, he could’ve passed easily as a ten-year-old, at best. He was small and barely able to hold himself up most days but that had been a happy moment for him. Saeran had only let go of V to race to the bed, flopping onto the soft mattress and rolling onto his back, laughing and giggling with glee.

His room was a paradise of pinks and blues, very gentle pastels that would cloak him with the sunshine that he had been denied. His room had a large window that he could open if he wanted to see the sky or feel the fresh breeze on his face once again.

There was a view of the garden in the back and the massive trees that lead into the forest further behind that. He could see all of the things that he never could have locked away in his mother’s house.

There were plushies and toys carefully tucked into the room as well since Saeyoung had been firmly adamant that his twin loved to color and all the picture books that he had received made him long for toys and soft things to hold onto.

There was one gift in that room that hadn’t been chosen by V… and it was a ginger tabby cat plushie, something that Saeyoung picked out for him after he snuck out to go shopping with V one day.

If Saeran were to flip the tag around its neck, he would see his brother’s handwriting on the back plain as day. It didn’t say his brother’s name on it but it did say, “For Saeran,” and that would be the only clue his twin needed to understand that it was a gift from Saeyoung. He would discover it when V left him to acclimate to his new room by himself, eyes laced with happy tears as he’d realize his twin had given him a gift.

It meant that his brother was alive and this was where he wanted him to be.

Saeran was hopeful after that, his eyes sparkling with relief and joy. V couldn’t tell him where his twin was or anything about him, but the gift was enough. It was a gesture that would be able to tide him over and keep his heart happy, knowing that he hadn’t been abandoned and his twin hadn’t been killed by their father.

It was a simple gesture but it was the only thing that he could think of to bypass the agency before they even knew it was a problem.

Of course, this opened up another can of worms that V had to deal with. The fact of the matter was, Saeran couldn’t keep his red hair. Even if he was hidden away from the rest of the world and safe with him, they couldn’t trust that his father wasn’t still looking. He would be hunting around for boys with red hair and golden eyes.

V had to explain this to Saeran, who felt a little dejected about not being able to keep his hair but after he learned why he had to change it, he was okay with it. After all, he knew that he could be able to dye it back someday if he wanted. But, for the time being, he had to dye his hair to look like V’s did. This was for a very good reason and it worked with the backstory that he was going to tell people if they asked about him having a child.

Through the false documentation that he was able to create thanks to the channel he had created with his informants, he was able to create an entire fabricated life for Saeran. It took a lot of time to look into his mother’s side, but he was able to make it seem as though Saeran was just a very distant cousin of his from the states that had no other family to turn to. It meant he wouldn’t be in the family registry since it was distant.

It was close enough that a doctored birth certificate and some basic paperwork could give him a new identity overall. It took a lot of money to make it as perfect and legal as possible, but it was well worth the price he paid. To the South Korean government as far as they were concerned in the matter, Saeran would simply be known as Ray Kim, the adopted child of Jihyun Kim. It was as simple as that.

Saeran had been adamant about the name since he got to pick what people would call him. He thought about it for a while until he stumbled upon an interesting idiom. He noticed that nice people were called a Ray of Sunshine. Saeran felt connected with that idea, he wanted so badly to be happy enough that people would never think he was lonely and pathetic.

He wanted to be that person that looked so happy they glowed.

If Saeyoung was watching over him now, he wanted his brother to know that he was happy. So, his new name should’ve been happy. V agreed and let him pick that name since he was giving up a lot to be able to have this freedom in the first place. He was a child that had been saved but he still had limitations on what he could do. Being able to choose his name was one of the small luxuries.

Of course, as soon as the paperwork was ready, V had to dye his hair himself. It took a while to lighten his red locks to a color that would accept the mint dye, but Saeran was a good sport for the entire time that he had to sit there at the table, letting V do his hair in layers as everything started to process. It took a few hours but by the end of it, Saeran’s red was washed away and replaced with a color that was no different than V’s.

The child looked into the mirror once his hair had dried out, blinking a few times at his reflection since he didn’t recognize it at first. His golden eyes stared back at him so he knew that it was his face in the mirror but it felt weird not to see his twin’s face reflected with his own. It wasn’t the same as it used to be, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t okay.

It was okay.

He knew it would be okay.

In a quiet voice, he asked, “Do you think Saeyoung would be upset because I don’t look like him anymore?”

“Saeyoung would be happy that you’re safe here,” V said. He rested his hand against Saeran’s shoulder and they looked back at their reflections together this time. “You’ll always look like your brother, even if you don’t have the same hair color. Nobody can ever take that connection away from you, Saeran. Never forget that.”

“Okay.”

“Do you want to try on the contacts, too? You don’t have to use them when we’re at home, but if we leave the house for something together, I’ll need you to wear them, okay? So, it’d be nice to try to practice getting them off and on your eyes.”

“Are they this color, too?”

“I picked a few different colors out, Saeran. What would you like to try?”

“Um, what about green? It’s like the grass!”

“We can try that.”

—

Saeran adjusted as best he could.

Everything changed so much for him after he finally felt secure. He had room to sleep in, he had a house that could leave whenever he wanted, and he had a new member of his family who liked to listen to him talk for hours about all of the new things that he was doing. V even said that once he felt like he was ready, he could start going to school and hang out with kids his age.

That was a little scary for Saeran to think about. He wasn’t sure about going out in the open with people… he was still scared of being caught by his father and getting his brother into trouble. It was a sad reality that he faced but the decision was ultimately left in his hands if he wanted to go to school with other kids or he simply wanted V to hire him a proper tutor to come and visit the house every week.

Saeran was curious about school… about kids his age. Back at the cathedral, he didn’t talk much to the other kids because he had felt too shy to approach them. He had spoken to some of the kids a few times during the playtime that they had whilst the parents were in the middle of their mass, but he always got too anxious to talk to them beyond a few quiet “hello”s.

It was hard to imagine making friends.

It was hard to imagine going to school, too.

But, everything he saw on the television made it seem like it might be fun. What if Saeyoung was going to a school? Would he want him to go, too? He wasn’t so sure about it, but he could think about it and try to guess what it would be like. After all, V went to a school when he’d been a kid, so that meant that it was safe, right?

Saeran was a gentle soul that liked to learn how to do everything… every meal was spent trying to show him how to do something. Cleaning up meant that he wanted to help V every step of the way, and for the time that he wasn’t trying to learn skills, he could be found outside in the garden that was growing stronger outside. The flowers and vegetables had caught his eye, again.

He spent a lot of time learning about them at the cathedral but he didn’t have long to study the picture book that V got him when he was stuck with his mother. He liked learning about how they drew and what they meant when you shared them with other people. Saeran thought it was interesting that people could share secrets between petals and stems.

They were all so pretty and he liked talking to them whenever he could. They were like his friends even if they couldn’t talk back to him. He never had someone who listened so much before so he liked that about them. His flowers were everything to him, and he felt like they could be what he needed to get by instead of school!

Even if he was curious about what it felt like to have friends that could talk back to him. His flowers were good enough, right?

V told him that flowers grow better when you talk to them, and he took that belief inside of his heart without question. Even though there was so much that he wanted to share with the flowers, he always ran out of time when the sunset. If he could’ve spent all his time in that little garden, he would have. Though, he was always sad on rainy days when couldn’t go outside and see his friends.

He would curl up on the couch with his plushie and stare up at the ceiling for a while, letting his mind wander with thoughts that seemed endless. He was lonely, now, even if he had a family of flowers and V with him. Maybe V was right, he wondered, maybe it would be nice to have some friends that he could talk to just as much as he loved talking to his flower friends. What if he was allowed to have both?

After a particularly stormy day and night that hadn’t let him go outside, Saeran practically leaped at the chance to go outside again. He didn’t even think to ask if V was going to come with him, his little legs just carried him through the house and out the backdoor as fast as they could. He found his way around the puddles and beamed, leaning over with his hands on his knees to inspect his friends.

They looked like they had gotten a lot of water overnight but after how dry it had been, he wasn’t too scared for them. He just wished that he had a chance to see them even when it was raining badly. His flower friends made his day feel a little bit brighter so seeing them made them was always a good feeling he had. He just didn’t know how to see them if it was raining so much all the time!

That’s when Jihyun appeared beside him, crouching down in the dirt next to Saeran with his camera in hand. Saeran cocked his head and looked at him, unsure why he had come to this part of their garden right away. He lifted the viewfinder to his face and pointed it at one of the flowers that he had been admiring, then he lowered the device and showed the image to Saeran.

With curious and amazing eyes, Saeran found himself staring at a reflection of the flower. He’d known that V took photos of things that were kind of like what he saw on the walls of their little house but those were all of the sky and stars. There weren’t photos of flowers in the house, there were a few paintings, but no flower pictures.

He didn’t realize that pictures could be taken of things that were on Earth. Technology was still kind of a fickle thing for Saeran. He had a hard time understanding how things worked, trying to figure out how televisions made their picture happen, how phones could call people if they didn’t have a connection with a string, how cameras worked, how lights functioned to off and on, how a sink made water, and more.

The house that he lived in with his brother didn’t have a lot of things. The kitchen they had was small and he wasn’t allowed in it. His brother would have to get him food and water, and if he’d ever walked into the kitchen without his mother dragging him in there, he would get hurt in the process. He never looked around. He always looked at his feet.

It felt like he didn’t know how anything worked. He always tried to guess how they worked, but the only answer that he could come up with was magic. It made sense in the storybook that he’d read once. Magic seemed like a really good answer, but he couldn’t ever find the fairy or witch that was making it work!

What made V’s camera work?

He was utterly mystified by what he was seeing on the device. He liked the photos that V took of the sky but… he never thought that this was something he could do. V always had a lot of big cameras that he would take outside during the day and night to take longer photos. He said something about exposure, but Ray didn’t know what he meant.

He just knew that whatever magic he did made those really pretty photos of the fluffy clouds come into their living room. V had hung the photo that Saeran liked the most in his room after he asked if he could look at the photo for a while. He thought that asking meant that V would let him look at his screen for a while, but he printed the photo out and put it up when he was asleep. It was a nice surprise!

He spoke up without knowing what he said aloud, “You… you can take pictures of flowers, too? I thought your camera only worked the sky.”

A small smile appeared on V’s face. He paused as if an idea came to mind, and then he leaned over and pressed the camera into Saeran’s hands. Saeran was surprised and looked down at the device in his hands. He didn’t know what to do with it. He was nervous he might drop it if V let him hold it, so he tried to hand it back, but V insisted with another gentle nudge towards him to keep it.

“Lift the camera and look at the screen,” V tapped his finger against the top of the camera where he was staring. “Notice how it shows you what you already see in the garden?

Saeran did as he said, and he noticed the world moved much as it did on television on that small screen. Oh, so, did the cameras that took pictures to take the videos, too? That seemed to make sense to him. He could see the Gladiolus reflected on the monitor. There were a lot of buttons that did things but he didn’t know what they did.

Saeran pursed his lips and looked back at V, “How do you make it work like that? I mean, how do you take the picture?”

“I’d be happy to show you. Can I?”

“Uh-huh.”

So, V adjusted Saeran’s hold on the camera. He helped him place one firm hand on the lens and another on the side of the camera. Then, he showed him how to focus the lens and how to clear up the picture. Saeran felt a little weird about it since this was his first time holding a camera but V was patient as his uncertainty slowly washed away.

He looked at the flower outside of the lens at first, then he looked at the screen again. Saeran thought about it. Would the picture look the same as the real thing? Would someone who saw the photo know exactly what Saeran felt when he was looking at the flower? Or, would they guess as to what he felt? Would they feel that fluttering feeling, too?

“When you want to take a photo, you hit the button. Go ahead, give it a try.”

Saeran hit the switch on the side of the camera and waited a few seconds for the image to show itself on the screen. A wide smile appeared on his face as soon as it did. He couldn’t believe it! He’d taken a photo and it looked just like his flower! Lowering the camera soon, he looked at V who was smiling, too.

He wished that he could show Saeyoung! He never took a photo before and this one reminded him of his brother so much! He was happy, so happy that he had been able to try something new, that he didn’t even realize that he had begun to giggle, “I did it! Dad, I did it! I took the photo!”

“You did a good job, Saeran. Would you like to keep trying?”

V ruffled his hair once again, the mint locks growing messy around his eyes as it would always do whenever the man did that. The breeze was no different, further messing up his hair but he’d decided he didn’t care about that. His hair could be as messy as he wanted and nobody would get onto him for it.

Saeran’s smile didn’t fade away this time. The prospect that he was allowed to try something more than just once was still a foreign feeling, but it was one that he wasn’t afraid of. “Do you mean it? I can take more photos? I don’t have to just take one of them? I can take anything I want?”

“Of course, Saeran. I’d be happy to show you how to take pictures of anything you want. There is no limit to what you can take. Those flowers, those trees, the lake just beyond them, the sky, the clouds, you, me, anything you want! I remember you said that you wanted to be able to see your flowers even when it was rainy… and this way you can. You can take pictures of as many flowers as you want.”

Saeran’s eyes sparkled with excitement. He turned away from V and began to look around the garden for anything that might catch his eye. He didn’t know where to start. He never expected to be able to do something like this! What kind of pictures would he like to see? Oh, could he take photos like V and surprise him the way that he did?

There were so many ideas running through him and he knew that he wanted to try all of them as soon as he could.

He was renewed with the idea that maybe, just maybe he would be able to send these photos to his brother somehow. Wouldn’t Saeyoung love to see them? He gripped the device tightly in his hands and set off into the garden leaving V as he went to take photos of everything. His eyes looking at the earth and the sky, taking photos of everything without feeling like he was being held down.

If he could have photos with him whenever he went off what he loved, he wouldn’t be afraid to try new things anymore. It wouldn’t be scary because he wouldn’t be alone. He could have the stars, the sun, the clouds, the sky, the flowers, his house, V, himself, and anything else that he could think of with him anywhere.

If it was printed or on this camera, he could have it any time he wanted it without having to make a fuss. He wouldn’t have to ask V if he could go outside first, he could sit at the table and see his things while he tried to do other things inside! The idea made him happy and the camera that was in his hand made him feel liberated.

Saeran wondered as if V would let him borrow his camera all the time!

—

Seasons passed and life changed just as quickly as the tides could crash against the shore of your favorite beach. It had been a few years since V had adopted Ray and ever since then, his life had been on a path that was leading him upward to the stars instead of down below to where waters lay underneath his feet.

Ray had been able to go to school and attend the same one that his dad had attended without trouble, and nobody once ever questioned him or thought twice about who he was. They all thought him to be Ray Kim, and nobody had any reason to think that he wasn’t who he said he was. They all assumed that he was who he said he was from the start and that had cleared up a lot of Ray’s fears.

It couldn’t have worked out any better. Ray had been scared to try new things for such a long time but the reality was when V gave him his first camera… It was like a whole new world of opportunity was handed to him. V spent hours showing Ray how to use his camera and he was a faster learner, constantly taking notes and tinkering with ideas that he had just as quickly as he read on what to do.

The camera meant so much to Ray that V decided to give it to him. He had the money to afford a new one, anyway, so he wasn’t too worried about that. It meant more to him that Ray had this thing that made him happy. He loved taking pictures a lot. It reminded V of when he used to use all of his time as a child drawing and painting, and when he saw that passion in Ray’s eyes that he had once seen in himself?

He realized what his mother had meant all those years ago.

She hadn’t been trying to pry into his life or make him do something she wanted. She wanted him to follow his heart. Through therapy, he was able to focus on learning that fact.

He wanted to show his mother that he could do what she did, or at least, what she tried to do. He wanted to support Ray’s dream to be an artist, to be a photographer, too.

Ray’s photos were… breathtaking and he only got better with time and practice. His skill was astounding, he was capable of tricks and feats that had taken V years to figure out on his own so it meant everything to know that giving Ray a camera had been the right thing to do. Even as he got older and studied hard, he never let go of his passion with his camera.

When he wasn’t doing his homework, or spending time with his gardening club, he was taking photos.

His skills were well-admired.

V knew that Ray had potential and he wanted to help him chase that dream even further, but he also knew that Ray’s face couldn’t be shown as the artist for now. It didn’t mean that he wasn’t worthy of a gallery with his name on it but he deserved something to prove how much his hard work meant.

He was stubborn, polite, hard-working, and determined to pay people back for kindness. He never asked V very much if he could help it. Even Jumin had commented that his son was rather selfless time and time again, jesting that he had been spending too much time with his father.

All and all, Ray had grown into an upstanding young man who had a bright future ahead of him, even if he couldn’t have everything. He had a family and friends that cared about him, and he was so very far from the little frightened boy that he had once been. Nobody would have ever believed that the boy with mint curls was once a redhead who lived in fear, clutching to his twin like he was a lifeline.

The RFA had prospered as well, though Ray wasn’t a member of the group.

He was anxious around big parties and crowds so it was better for him to avoid that. But, he still spoke to the members that were in the group that his Dad belonged to. He liked talking to Jumin, as it turned out, they had a lot in common. Ray was polite and formal when he spoke, and Jumin’d been like that all his life. So, they hit it off great.

There had been some trips V and Jumin took, bringing Ray along with them to the countryside since he couldn’t leave Korea for his safety. Ray often spent those days staring at everything he could find and asking Jumin about the history or background of the places they traveled. He loved to learn and listen, and Jumin loved to share that with someone. It humbled V to see his friend and son get along.

Jaehee was courteous to Ray as he often was with her, though, he was the first person to ask Jumin to make fewer cat projects to quote, “not stress Miss Jaehee out.” Ray liked to talk to her because she’d always listen to whatever he was invested in. He would, in turn, listen to her talk about Zen for a while. Their friendship was built on having someone close by who knew what it felt like to want to be heard.

Speaking of Zen, the actor spent a lot of time looking out for Ray… somehow even more so than Yoosung. It might have been because Ray was awfully small for his height and if someone tried to fight him, he’d probably lose before they breathed on him. Zen was always trying to give him advice about the world and Ray took it, but everyone would correct the advice if it turned into his dating advice.

Yoosung was the closest in age to him but they didn’t have a lot in common. They would share notes and study guides often if they shared a subject in school, even though they were going to the same school, but they talked now and again about other things. They surprisingly shared a lot of recipes together and would work to make them if the RFA was in the same place for an extended period.

Rika was around, of course, and Ray didn’t mind her too much. They didn’t talk often but she always checked in on him whenever she got the chance. Her dedication to herself had done a lot of wonders for her, but she still struggled with the fear that she might hurt Ray without meaning to so she kept to a polite distance from him apart from this or that.

V himself was trying his best to be a good father. He made mistakes now and again, but he was doing his best to be there for Ray when he needed someone. Ray had even started calling Dad a long time ago without thinking twice. It was an honor to be given that name, and he would be a liar if he said he didn’t cry that night after Ray went to bed. They spent a long time trying to be sure that bond was tried and true.

Ray had the life that his brother always wanted for him… with one exception to the very rule, he wasn’t in it. Saeyoung wasn’t in his life. He was trapped within the agency and the promise that he had made, but he still thought to this day that his promise was worth it. V couldn’t ever tell him anything about Ray the few fleeting times they got to talk about things on the phone, but he did know that the “cat” was doing better than ever.

Life was different.

But, at the same time, life was better than it had ever been.

However, as he thought about how sad it was that the boys couldn’t see each other, the gears in his brain began to churn. He wanted the boys to have a chance for something, but to give them a chance, he would have to be careful about what he did. As he looked out the window of his kitchen to the backyard, he saw Ray taking photos again, laying in the glass as he stared at the sky once again.

Could he give Ray and Saeyoung a gift at the same time?

V would have to think deeply about this.

—

Seven had received a simple invitation in the mail that wasn’t labeled and wasn’t decorated. It was a mint-colored letter that told him who it was from but wouldn’t reveal to Vanderwood, his handler, that it was a message from someone that he cared about. He had to wait a few days to open it because he had just moved into his new house and Vanderwood had to help him set up a lot of things.

When he opened the letter, he’d been surprised to see that it was a decorated invitation to visit V’s upcoming art exhibition. He was supposedly showing off new works that he had done as well as the works of his new assistant that had just joined him. That didn’t strike him as odd at first, but what did stand out was the message that V penned at the bottom of the letter.

There was just one sentence.

The cat will be there on display. — V

Seven was able to put two and two together. He realized that V was implying that his twin was going to be showing off art for the first time, underneath a pseudonym, of course, but he didn’t once think that his brother would be able to do something like that. He had no idea of the life his twin was living, what he did, what he loved, who he was now, or what it meant to be a part of his life the way that V was.

That was just it… he wasn’t apart of Saeran’s life. He was just his brother that had to leave him, and that was it. He hadn’t seen him in years and a part of him wanted badly to know how he was doing and what he was doing with his life, and this alone should’ve been enough to make him be sure that Saeran was safe and happy.

But, his stomach twisted in knots as he realized that he wanted to go. He wanted to go there and see Saeran in person if he could. It wasn’t a good idea, it was a dangerous idea, but the more he thought about his brother, the more he felt like he needed to see him. He didn’t want to risk any part of Saeran’s new life.

He didn’t want to be the wrench that destroyed everything that Saeran had, because if V was able to do these kinds of things for him, then that meant he was happy. It meant that he had nice ways of living now, and that he had anything he could ever want. It seemed good to know that much, at the very least. He stared at that invitation for the longest time.

He didn’t know what to do with himself because he was between wanting to go to see what he looked like all grown up and happy, but the other part of him warned that if he went, he would risk Saeran’s life all over again. Even if he was careful and lied about everything, it might still put a target on Saeran’s back.

Seven spent a long time thinking about it.

The choice was his to make and V didn’t say that he had to go. He just made it an option that he could choose to come if he wanted. If he could come, anyway. V didn’t know certain things for his own protection. He only knew Seven’s new address for emergency reasons in case something went wrong with Saeran and they had to run through proper protocol.

Should he go and risk it all?

Or, should he stay and keep this letter as a token that Saeran was safe?

It was a big choice to make and he didn’t know the right answer, and there was nobody to ask or talk to about the answer that he wanted to make. Nobody could make it for him and he had to do it on his own. That’s what he always had to do. He always had to decide things that were above his pay grade… it was the price of being the big brother, he always told himself.

In the end, Seven decided to risk it.

He made a plan for it and worked himself into the ground for days ahead of time so he would have a day off. Those didn’t come very often and Vanderwood wouldn’t bother him as long as the work got done. If he didn’t, they would drop by and remind him what was at risk if they’d shirked off when they didn’t need to. When they weren’t supposed to. Their lives were on the line and that was the truth.

The agency had never been like the movies.

It was much, much worse.

This wasn't the kind of life or you could just hack something and get paid for it. They did expect him to be able to do things without a single question. He was expected to absorb information like a sponge and that was all he had to do. If he couldn't keep up with everything that they planned out for him, then it would just end poorly. It would end the same way that Vanderwood had been telling him… in his death.

He didn't plan on dying anytime soon if he had anything to say about it. He was going to keep living because he needed to. There was no other choice in his heart. His brother needed him to be alive and that was the only way it had to be. It was the only way he was going to let it be. He was doing this so he could have the last bit of motivation in his heart to know that he was doing the right thing.

He kept telling himself that if he saw Saeran just one more time…

Just one more time.

It would never happen again and he would never let it be that way. It was a selfish desire because he had already wasted a lot of time by waiting until late that morning with his brother all those years ago. He couldn't leave his brother in the middle of the night. His brother was afraid of being alone in the dark and he waited for sunrise because if he could do anything that day, it would be to leave his brother feeling hopeful instead of the gotten.

He knew that it was going to take some time for them to be able to remove his twin brother from that place. It wasn't going to be easy and it wasn't going to be simple. He knew that it could take weeks for them to be able to remove him.

To leave Saeran was to break his heart. The only thing that he could offer him that last day was the sunrise. He wanted to be able to wash it with him but if his twin knew that he was leaving, he would have tried to come along. He couldn't let that happen. He could have never told him no and that's why he left the way he did.

Seven disguised himself the day of the event. If there was one thing he learned in the agency, it was how to dress himself up and look so unlike himself that he could wander around without fearing people recognizing him. He did have a few favorite disguises that he liked to wear. Even though the agency had forced him to do this because he was young and young people were easy to blend in with the crowd, he had been able to learn that he actually really liked dressing up. He never would have known that before this.

There was just something very validating about being able to dress up. It made him feel good about himself which didn't happen very often. The fact that he had this skill was definitely a comfort because if he was going to break all of the rules, he wanted to make sure that he was going to be safe. Anything that would stop him from putting his brother in danger was going to be for the best.

The gallery show was being held at the same place that he met V. He knew exactly where it was and he knew how to get there. For him to be able to confront it, he decided that the best way for him to handle it was to drive halfway there, and then walk the rest of the distance and get a taxi if he needed it. He was already covering his appearance but he wasn't going to take any chances with someone tracking him. He could never leave any loose ends for himself.

It took a little bit longer to get there, but he was able to get there in just the nick of time.

Seven allowed himself to catch his breath as he stood in the doorway and looked around the room. There was definitely a crowd that'd come to see the show, so it was hard to tell as to where everyone would be. He drew in this short breath and looked around again, trying to spot his brother in the sea of people. He felt dejected when he didn't see him, but he saw V after some scanning and found himself pausing to see what he would do.

"Thank you all for coming today, I hope that you are able to enjoy the collections of work that has been displayed today. What I have been working on myself pales in comparison to my assistant, they prefer to remain out of sight for their privacy, of course, but they want you to enjoy their collection with an open mind. Every artist puts their heart and soul into what they capture, and the reflection on the canvas is just the feeling that you can define for yourself. Whatever you see is what is in front of you. The same feeling that the artist feels when they decide to convey their emotions."

The crowd gave their gentle affirmation in response and cheered for his words. Though, Seven met his eyes and the man smiled back at him. It took away some of the anxiety that he was feeling. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to take the risk?

As the crowds dispersed and began to look around, Seven decided he would do the same thing. After all, nobody would know him underneath this long wig and costume, and since he hadn't seen Saeran, he wanted to see his photos. He managed to find where they were located in the gallery after passing what he knew to be V's unmistakable photos of the sky. He always felt really good whenever he saw those photos of the Galaxy, but he wasn't looking for that today.

The photos shifted from the stars to something else entirely, something he didn't expect to see. The first photo he saw was of the sky… unlike the stars in V's hands, this was the clouds. It was the bluest sky he had ever seen. The clouds were arranged in a pattern that looked like fruits to him, like a strawberry. Saeran had always loved the blue sky… this had to be one of his photos.

If he stepped some more forward, he would find a photo of all kinds of scenery. There were sprawling fields of flowers, beaches filled with shells, lakes and the lily pads that bathed them, even expansive gardens that looked ripe with love and care. It was overwhelming to see all of these photos because they were places that his brother had always wanted to see. It overwhelmed him to see it. Each one of those photographs was labeled with Assistant. It was all by Saeran's hand.

His twin had been able to capture everything that he saw. It was like standing next to his brother as he was able to experience these things for the first time. He missed out on seeing his brother's face for the first time when he got to witness all of this, but seeing all of these photos gave him a chance to have that experience firsthand. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes.

When he came to the end of the hall, he found the last photo.

It was a photo of a single red flower. He leaned over to look at the caption to see what it was called, this one was named Gladiolus. He didn't know that word. Was it the flower? Did it stand for something? It was such an intense looking flower. It made him question the feeling that he was experiencing.

"Gladiolus, named for the Latin gladius, meaning sword. In Rome, they stood for the gladiators that fought valiantly with their brothers in arms. They symbolize strength and integrity. In some cases, they can also mean remembering a Fallen Friend, or thinking of someone who meant everything to you," a humble voice spoke from the side as Seven stood there in front of the photograph.

"Interesting," Seven said, as he turned his head to meet V's gaze. Couldn't alright say what he was thinking. "Does that mean that this…"

V smiled. "Gladiolus grows often in my growing garden these days. My assistant cherishes them dearly because they’re a reminder of someone who he hasn't forgotten since the day he had to move on without them. There are plenty of portraits of flowers here, some of their meanings are listed underneath the photographs. Feel free to look at them all. I'd say this one is the most striking, though."

This flower was dedicated to his older brother… It was a photograph meant to truly symbolize Saeyoung. Saeran hadn't forgotten about him. It had been his biggest fear that his brother would move on and forget about him. Even though he tried to live without thinking about his brother in the life he was living now, he selfishly wished that his brother would still think of him fondly, if not kindly, but at most fondly.

Despite everything, his brother still thought of him after all these years.

V silently stepped to the side and Seven looked beyond him to see what he had been blocking. Across from him and on the other side of the room stood his twin brother, his hair now dyed a minty shade, and green contacts obscured his golden eyes, but there was no mistake. His brother was smiling and laughing alongside those closest to V, those that were in the RFA that V had told him all about.

Jumin Han and Jaehee Kang were conversing with Saeran, while Zen and Yoosung Kim had their hands on his shoulders, being the ones in the room who made him laugh. That was the thing he could see from his vantage point as the crowds were moving in and out of the way. But, there was no doubt about what he saw.

It looked like a family.

Seven felt his eyes welling up with thick tears for the first time in a very long time. He knew he was crying but he couldn't stop it. Saeran looked happy and free and it was all thanks to his Dad, V. He was speechless at that moment and he didn't know what to say. He rubbed furiously at his eyes but it did nothing to quell the tears.

This was all he ever wanted for his twin brother.

"I bought this painting for you," V broke his train of thought by saying something. "This is yours, after all. I know that you can't have any more than this, but that doesn't mean that you can't have a piece of him with you. It's very common for the people that you know to collect, isn't it? Who's to say that you weren't interested in collecting? Think of it as my gift."

Seven wanted nothing more than to hug V at that moment. He couldn't make a scene or be recognizable in any way, but he felt like the man understood what he was trying to say and convey. "Thank you, V… thank you. I don't know what to say."

Their time had run out as an alarm began to react on Seven's phone. V pressed his hand to his shoulder and nodded at him, "Even if the rest of the world tries hard to keep my sons separated, I'll do everything in my power to make sure that they can have a piece of each other to hold onto no matter where they are in the world."

"Your assistant has a very bright future, foster his skills," he smiled back at him despite the pain. He watched as V headed back to the little group with their family. Saeran hugged V and said something that Seven couldn't hear, but the happiness on his face was telling enough. Laughter and all sorts of things spread between them. The group began to talk amongst themselves and by the time that V turned around to see where Seven was, the lonely hacker was gone again.

Just as quickly as he had appeared.

As was the photo of Gladiolus.

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dereksmcgrath · 3 years

Text

I had said before that the number 108 can be unlucky. It wasn’t unlucky at all for My Hero Academia: Vigilantes. But 108 is kind of unlucky for this episode: not only are we focusing on the Villains, but we just aren’t giving their story the structure and emotional weight it deserves.

(I either opened with those remarks or just made a bunch of corny jokes about how “Meta Liberation Army” can be abbreviated as MLA--and I’m saving those jokes for a future review.)

“My Villain Academia,” My Hero Academia Episode 108 (Season 5, Episode 20)

An adaptation of Chapters 220, 221, 222, 223, and 224 of the manga, by Kohei Horikoshi, translated by Caleb Cook with lettering by John Hunt and available from Viz.

My Hero Academia is available to stream on Crunchyroll and Funimation.

Spoilers up to My Hero Academia Chapter 325.

When I teach literature, I refer to the plot as a problem: it is something that the protagonist is trying to solve. This problem can take various forms, but it is often as an antagonist that the protagonist confronts. When this episode has the Doctor refer to a “villain” as someone “who turns nonsense into action,” that’s kind of the point: the villain is here to get the plot rolling. Without them, you don’t have a hero, you don’t have a story.

It has been long accepted by a lot of fans and scholars that superheroes tend to uphold the status quo. I think the first time I gained awareness of this popular argument--although likely not the first time I encountered it--was Dr. Horrible’s mangled remark that “the status is not quo.” More recently, however, I have been reading academic books on superheroes, and not only does that argument persist--that superheroes represent law, order, and upholding traditional norms even in the face of new evidence or out of sheer obliviousness to the need for systemic change--but the argument has become that, if a superhero story does not have the heroes doing something to effect systemic change, then it’s not a good story. I may be misunderstanding that argument, but if I don’t, then it’s not an argument I can stand behind.

The argument is that superhero stories tend to reduce complex issues to having avatars for each side of the issue--the good guy and the bad guy--get into a fight, where we are focused on the spectacle rather than on seeing actual people engaging in the actual work needed to address problems not on the individual level--again, one good guy physically fighting one bad guy--but on a larger scope.

I am oversimplifying this argument, as even those same scholars will point out that, initially, of course there were superhero stories that had the protagonist taking the fight against the system. Superman is one of the ones named most frequently, whether in his initial comic book premiere doing what police and media would not to face down a corrupt senator (a sign of things to come in his later fights with Luthor and in Justice League Unlimited) or fighting the Klan (in the meta sense, fighting their analogue on the radio show and, more recently, literally in the comics). It kind of makes Superman look like one influence on the Peerless Thief in My Hero Academia, but we’ll get to him far later in these episodic reviews.

Even with that exception of Superman, it’s not hard for me to agree with the argument that heroes prop up the status quo. That has been the plot point for My Hero Academia and why this war against the villains has been incoming: a system that depended on just All Might, now depending on a wife-beating abusive father like Endeavor with his crimes not popularly known, has a level of corruption that cannot stand up with just one man’s shining example of honest goodness and integrity to be the Symbol of Peace. It was why I appreciated the manga eventually showing that, yes, there was an entire network of assassins within the Hero Public Safety Commission to keep All Might’s hands clean--and, in retrospect, while Lady Nagant was our first named example, given what Hawks ends up doing to Twice, deadly force may be frowned upon by law in MHA but has to have been something Hawks was told he had legal authority to do. (Also, as I will never stop pointing out, Endeavor unintentionally and unknowingly killed another Pro Hero in Vigilantes, and we’re just supposed to pretend that was fine.)

But going back to this academic argument, about how superhero stories tend to stick to one-on-one battles and don’t let the heroes effect systematic change, I’m ambivalent. There have been a range of superhero or superhero-adjacent stories that have the protagonist making on-page, on-screen, obvious work to not just get into fisticuffs with the bad guy. I already pointed out Superman’s first appearance and his fight against the Klan. I can also identify other examples, some hamfisted like Captain Planet, others more nuanced like Korra reaching out to Kuvira in The Legend of Korra. While the scholarship I read bristles at the idea of reducing these fights to just avatars for good and evil, I shrug and say that kind of comes with the territory of a superhero story. I hate justifying tropes: it’s like saying “this fanservice is acceptable because that’s part of the genre”--which leads to its own set of problems, especially when I hear fools defending sexualized fanservice that is just not needed for the story and is abusive by gender and representation. Heck, The Brave and the Bold animated series had Equinox and Batman battle as giants representing the avatars of chaos and order--which is confusing enough, with Equinox having a vaguely yin-yang motif that debunks any clean separation between chaos and order. And yet, here I am, arguing that this kind of fanservice of a hero and a villain beating each other up is to be expected: you have a debate about ideals of what a hero should do when you see Iron Man and Captain America each representing a side in a fight, whether the poorly handled comic book Civil War or the better film version, and even then, that film also lets the individual personalities get in the way of saying anything meaningful about government oversight and individual agency, ideas better handled in that other Captain America film, The Winter Soldier, and even then that film also gets stuck in just being about Steve and Bucky’s relationship.

All of this is me saying that, when you add a superhero to the fight, you’re going to feel disappointed that almost nothing systematically changes in its setting, not only because, as I’m hinting, these are stories about individuals fighting each other and not stories about the individual against society or nature, but also because a superhero can only change so much of their world for the better before that world no longer looks like our own or a new societal problem has to emerge to create the problem that is the plot itself for wherever the story goes next. Once a hero makes the setting into a utopia, either a new problem emerges to show the fiction of that story and that a dystopia is always married to a utopia, or the utopia is revealed to be hollow (Shigaraki’s word of the day) and fake. My Hero Academia already showed the utopia of a world where people get to live with their Quirks is fake, not only by (largely necessary) regulation of those Quirks but also, as we’ll see more with Spinner, Compress, Toga, Gigantomachia, and others, looking different, or being socially aware, or having disabilities, or being the “wrong” size, excluded you from that society.

What I’m trying to say is that, once you add superheroes into a story to fix the problem, you can’t show what systematic change looks like. How do you write a story where it makes sense that no hero came to save Tenko Shimura from becoming Tomura Shigaraki? What’s a story like My Hero Academia supposed to do to show the problems with a society, if you have superheroes who can fix those problems by beating up the bad guys?

Solution: You have the bad guys beat each other up.

In this corner, the League of Villains, people who were made outcasts because they did not fit in--which reveals the flaws of a society that is not accepting people who may not be able to change their past or their bodily conditions.

And in this corner, the Meta Liberation Army--which reveals how society breeds people in business, media, and politics who abuse laws and societal norms to elevate themselves and create a social Darwinist nightmare.

Granted, these are some foolish schmucks for starting up this fight in public, but I’ll address how the MLA just doesn’t work in a later episode review.

But for now, let the fight begin. No matter who wins, at least we see how society at large allowed these Villains to emerge--and we can either see All For One’s dictatorial forces get wrecked, or see Re-Destro’s fascistic oafs get wrecked.

Unfortunately, no matter who wins, the Pro Heroes are going to lose, too.

I am overly impressed with myself for realizing all of this. And I say “overly” not only because this is arrogant of me but also because I’m pretty sure just about every other person following this series already came to this conclusion: if you want to show actual systematic change, you have to show what the villains are up to, because they are the ones showing the holes in our society that need to be fixed. Either a villain exploits those holes to cause damage to people, or the villain is themselves representative of unfairness in the system and, by breaking the law to save themselves and others, are unfairly maligned as villains.

That being said, I’m not a big fan of the “[Insert villain’s name here] was right” arguments. Yes, Magneto is justified in his goals and ethics, and the debate is the means he takes to them, so his existence is to show why the X-Men are screwing up and need to be more radical. Yes, Killmonger is right that Wakanda’s isolationism is reckless and allows for travesties to persist, but his choices are largely out of individual desire for vengeance, so he’s an example that T’Challa can follow. Taken too far, though, and you get people who preach anti-establishment notions without having an alternative or are just trying to sound edgy rather than actually pointing to the actual problem: it’s someone who celebrates the Joker without recognizing that, no, you don’t want to be that asshole, or who celebrate villain-turned-hero Vegeta just because he looks cool and without appreciating what steps he took to change and what fall he experienced before he got to the point of being a villain.

In all these cases, if done poorly, you have the same tired trend of a villain existing only so long so that the hero changes for the better. It’s as tiresome as I unfortunately sometimes feel reading post after post celebrating how complex and sympathetic the League of Villains’ members can be when, still, a lot of them are just assholes using empty excuses to defend atrocious behavior (primarily, just All for One) or, for the most part, are people put into desperate situations (Shigaraki, Toga, Spinner, Dabi, Twice) who are doing the best they can (Twice, Spinner) even if their actions are not defensible (Toga) or also out of line (Shigaraki) due to their own refusal to seek the legitimate help they need to work through their issues (Dabi).

It’s hard to read posts online calling the League members sympathetic when we have not had a chance in the anime to know their full story. And as with the slow revelation that this setting is not really as welcoming of people of all shapes and sizes as initially hinted, so too do the villains’ backstories show that they were justified in some actions they took, except for those that led to deaths. Too bad none of that really pops up in a meaningful way in this episode that would rather tease out Shigaraki’s back story, keep dangling the obvious answer to who Dabi really is, and short-sells what should be a meaningful friendship between Twice and Giran but is just dropped as fast as Shigaraki takes off Twice’s mask. Jeez, Shigaraki, that is a dick move to Twice…

But I’m already on Page 4 of this rant, so let’s get to the episode already.

Pulling back the curtain yet again, these reviews tend to follow a pattern. Since I first wrote about the MHA anime, my process would be to first re-read the chapters, then watch the episode in Japanese, then watch the episode in English, so as to retrace my steps in how I first encountered most of these stories, as well as to see any patterns in the production process moving from manga to anime to localization. But with this episode, that practice was made nearly impossible given how prevalent the hostility towards this episode, this arc, and this season have been, especially when a friend shared numerous reactions from other viewers about this episode. Seriously, for all the whining I just did the previous four pages, you could read this person or this person who are much better at explaining why the introduction of Re-Destro to the anime sucks, for more than one reason.

So, I had a different approach: I already had the flaws to this episode shared with me by other viewers, then I listened to the English dub, then I re-read the chapters, then I watched the Japanese dub with English subtitles.

And, boy, am I grateful I took that approach, because this episode is a ton of talking--too much talking. For an anime adaptation that cut so much of Spinner’s Leonardo from Ninja Turtles narration, I’m shocked that they kept the boring parts of his narration and cut the only good parts, including the very opening that had a lot more action and gave us a reason to sympathize with these Villains.

I know I’m a snob regarding animation; I have expressed before how, despite my love for animated works, I tend to appreciate them more for what they do with storytelling rather than the spectacle of the visuals. I really dislike works where the value of the work is in the animation alone: I am here to see a story unfold, and if there is no narrative, no plot, no beginning-middle-and-end, then what I’m encountering is a museum piece, not a work of cinema. (Feel free to bash me for that hot take: I’m still railing against Patty Jenkins’s ridiculous argument from this week.)

And as with most forms of karmic punishment I experience, I pay the price: if I rail long enough about works that are only all about the animation and not the story, then my punishment is an episode where all we get is a lot of story and not much in the way of animation. Yet I can’t even say we got a story here, so much as back story, exposition, needless narration--it’s Blade Runner only bad. As much as I have loved how this anime’s storyboards stick so close to the manga panels, the pan over the League listening to Shigaraki’s vague back story felt like the least interesting way to handle this scene, especially when it excises so much of Spinner coming around from questioning Shigaraki to sympathizing with him. Who would have imagined cutting so much of Spinner’s initial narration and the opening from Chapter 220 would screw up how to adapt Shigaraki’s back story from Chapter 222.

The anime cuts how this arc begins in the manga: Chapter 220 starts with Spinner facing off against an extremist group that hates him for his reptilian appearance--a moment that would have garnered more sympathy from the audience for these Villains than this episode is exhorting. We needed a scene to get behind these villains and agree with them, before we are shocked to hear Shigaraki say what we have long expected, that he just wants to destroy everything and make everyone as miserable as he has felt, to wake us up that, no, you may sympathize with these outcasts (to use Twice’s one-word self-description), but you shouldn’t agree with Shigaraki’s goals. (I know Shigaraki relents somewhat when asked by Toga, but it’s hard to backtrack from “destroy it all” to “destroy it all but not the stuff my friends like.” How on Earth is Shigaraki going to destroy Izuku when Spinner somewhat admires the guy and Toga...well, yeah, best left unsaid.)

While watching this episode, I also was reviewing other topics about anime and manga I’m going to go into more detail about later this month, and one topic of discussion is the assumption that anime and manga, by their visual style and story tropes, especially shojo and shonen, tend to be about big expressions--emotional outpours in words, movements, facial expressions, and actions to more easily communicate what is happening, regardless of context.

I hate to keep repeating “ambivalent” in my reviews (another academic word I need to expunge from my lexicon for a bit), but I’m ambivalent about that argument, that anime and manga, especially shojo and shonen, are better at communicating. If your character is unreadable, that likely has an intentional reason: we don’t get much of a read on the Doctor in this episode, not helped by his mustache and glasses, but we also don’t get a read on what Shigaraki is up to.

This episode only heightens my regard, not just about anime, manga, shojo, or shonen, but in animation and comics at large, that not everything is readable in what a character is planning.

On the one hand, I do agree that visual works tend to make ideas easier to comprehend for some people who can engage with such visual works. As someone who teaches English literature and writing in a United States setting, I use comics in my teaching to cross language and cultural barriers, especially for students for whom English is not their primary language or who are the first in their family raised in the United States. And this teaching approach also helps in reverse: I include manga and anime in my teaching to show how not all details cross language and cultural barriers in a one-to-one correspondence, hence the challenges of translation and localization, and how all of us struggle to make ourselves understood within our own primary language to someone else who is fluent in that language, let alone trying to translate into another language or to present ourselves in a different set of cultural norms.

On the other hand, anime and manga are not a fixed genre. Yes, I agree that the images tend to emphasize big eyes, big expressions, and big motions--but that’s like saying all animation is Looney Tunes, or all animation is Disney, or is Dragon Ball, and so on. Likewise, as I’ve discussed elsewhere, shonen is more than just one type of storytelling, and the same goes for shojo. This arc of My Hero Academia is placing focus, after admittedly far too long, on the Villains as the protagonists--and their behavior pokes holes in the idea that things are obvious, when the Villains are themselves such liars, so crafty, have their own hidden agendas, are keeping secrets from each other. It’s as if their behavior is a commentary on this plot and how BONES is adapting it: the Villains are keeping secrets, so this plot is going to keep its secrets for just who Re-Destro and the Meta Liberation Army are, what their personalities are like, and what Shigaraki and the Doctor have in mind for getting what he wants. We’re even kept in the dark as to Shigaraki’s full back story; we’re in the same position he is, knowing just little bits and able to make assumptions from a handful of visual cues and memories, without fully knowing who the hell Tenko is. Add to that Spinner’s struggles to narrate all of this and to get into Toga’s mind and Shigaraki’s mind, as well as Dabi’s own secrets and agenda with Hawks, and we have a story that blows up the notion that anime and manga are easier for reading a character’s mindset: no, they are not always easier, not when the creators deliberately mislead the audience or keep them in the dark for a surprise.

By keeping so much of the audience in the dark, so that we become aware of how deceitful villains can be, and we are put into Shigaraki’s place of not knowing where he came from. This should be a set of brilliant choices by BONES to adapt this arc in this manner. But the problem is, no, almost none of this gets anywhere close to brilliant. It’s not brilliant--it’s frustrating, because we already know what is going to happen. You can just pull up the manga at low cost with a Viz account and read all of this in the order it was originally presented and get the answers ahead of time. And if you’ve been reading the manga all along, you already know how this arc ends, and you know stuff from the next set of arcs so that you do know already what Shigaraki’s back story is, what Dabi was really up to, who survives, who dies. You even learn more about Compress’s back story--stuff that really should have been hinted at much earlier in the manga, and could have been hinted in this adaptation but as of this episode has not.

Maybe that is why the anime removes Re-Destro murdering his assistant: it’s such an odd moment that it is challenging for me to get a read on Re-Destro, as he alternates in the manga between being very friendly and devoted to his comrades but also violent and heartless.

It may be obvious that I didn’t like much of this episode. I think when I stopped taking this episode seriously was when I heard the voices. Like I said, I tend to start with the Japanese dub first before getting to the English dub. And I have nothing at all against English dubs: I would not be listening to them as much as I have, often first before I ever hear the Japanese, and I would not be a fan of so many English-speaking actors in dubs if I had any animosity to the craft, their work, and the benefit they provide for creating a larger audience for these stories. And nothing against Larry Brantley and Sonny Strait, but some of this casting feels off. I wasn’t able to take this episode seriously as soon as I heard the voice distortion that was used for Re-Destro’s phone call: that took me out of the story. If I had the chance for localization, I would really need Twice or someone to call out how freaking ridiculous that Mickey Mouse voice sounded. You have freaking Sonny Strait here: use the Krillin voice, use the Chibi Ragnarok voice, use the Usopp voice--use something, really go bizarre here, it’s just a voice distortion device! And as I said, nothing against Strait, but when I hear Re-Destro when I read the manga, that’s not the voice I have in mind. For right now, HIroaki Hirata in the Japanese dub is closer to that smoothness I expected for this character. But I have no doubt Strait will do excellent as Re-Destro’s empowered form: think Strait’s role in The Intruder II from Toonami. It’s just that Re-Destro in the English dub is lacking that odd refinement I was expecting.

Granted, it’s the same problem for me when I hear Brantley as Spinner: I am making unfair assumptions that don’t suit the goals of the creators when it comes to this character. It is sadly not as obvious in this episode as it is in the manga: this arc in the manga starts with Horikoshi invoking Laird and Eastman’s Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles by having Spinner, who is already a sword-wielding reptilian martial artist, narrating just like how Leonardo narrating at the beginning of the very first issue of TMNT. I wanted a voice for the English dub that is like Leonardo’s, a little higher pitch and more youthful, like what Brian Tochi brought in the live-action Turtles film or what Cam Clarke and Michael Sinterniklaas bring in the animated versions. I think, for the Japanese dub, Ryo Iwasaki’s performance as Spinner is very close to what I expected. But that also may seem too obvious: Spinner may be young, but giving him an older-sounding voice can belie his inexperience, youthfulness, and naivete, similar to how people make assumptions about him by his reptilian appearance. The anime is putting me into my place--I think of Spinner one way other than who he really is, so I’m no better than the people around him who have discriminated against him for his physical appearance.

Just as I have a set of assumptions that unfairly influence how I would cast Spinner, I also think Re-Destro should have sounded more refined and less graveley in the English dub. But my expectations belie that, just the Joker whom he resembles, Re-Destro puts on this cultured facade to hide that he is just another violent gangster thug, someone who would kill his own assistant. I know I cited examples above about how complex Re-Destro is, but it’s hard for me to see him as sympathetic just because he’s crying over something he did out of his own volition: he coldly killed his office assistant Miyashita, his tears and kind words don’t suddenly make this a warm and cuddly death, we don’t get to think of him as our woobie. It only makes it more irritating that BONES so far has cut not only that scene of Re-Destro killing Miyashita but also Re-Destro’s TV commercial: it would clue us in that the reason he has that gravelly voice is because, no matter how much he tries to present himself on TV, he is not that kind of a man.

But since I invoked the Joker comparison to Re-Destro, yeah, I’m disappointed we didn’t get Troy Baker as Re-Destro, as unlikely as I imagine that would be to happen, regardless of Baker’s previous work with Funimation. It does lend a bit more to conspiracy theories on my part, though, given casting director Colleen Clinkenbeard telling Twitter followers to stop expecting Mark Hamill in MHA, it’s never happening--we can’t even get Troy Baker doing his Mark Hamill Joker.

(I’m not being fair to Baker: I’m not saying his Joker is at all bad--it is not, he has been excellent as Joker, especially playing him and Batman in the Ninja Turtles crossover film, but it is obvious Baker is performing the kind of Joker that came out of Hamill, so I’m trying to say he’s doing the “Hamill Joker,” rather than the “Nicholson Joker,” the “Ledger Joker,” or the “Caesar Romero Joker”).

It’s also a challenge to sympathize with these characters when we aren’t getting what this arc should give them: a re-introduction. I hate approaching this episode in a post-James Gunn The Suicide Squad world, but seeing how much MHA owes to not The Suicide Squad of the comics but that motif in so many superhero comics, there is that missed opportunity to reacquaint the audience with who are the members of the League of Villains. So, where the hell is my freeze-frame re-introduction to each League member? There was that fan theory a long time ago that Giran was really Present Mic in disguise: imagine doing Present Mic’s introduction of characters by name, Quirk, and pithy comment, only it’s Giran in the announcer seat this time.

(Don’t even get me started on how annoying it is to have Izuku handling the post-credit preview: give that to Spinner.)

Again, maybe it is brilliant for BONES not to include some re-introduction scenes, whether narrated by Giran or happening naturally in conversation between these characters. These Villains barely know each other’s back story, so there’s no artifice where they would believably share their back stories to each other in conversation in this context. And as I said, Shigaraki does not know enough about his own past, and Dabi is hiding his real identity. But when we’re stuck with Spinner as our half-hearted narrator, who seems not to know why he and Toga are still here with Stain being gone, and when Toga is this dull in her answer about what keeps her going after Stain’s arrest, and when Spinner himself seems not to know what he’s still doing here, all of that does not communicate a reason for us to keep going with this story.

I know this arc is going to get better, storywise at least, just based on how it went in the manga. I can only hope that the animation can capture the chaos that the original manga illustrations showed. But I am trying to think what a new viewer is going to do if this is their introduction to this series. I’m not invoking the Episode 7 Rule, I’m not doing a hypothetical experiment to gauge which episodes are the best to bring a newbie into this series--I am asking, honestly, if a fan was already into this series, and was watching it one Saturday morning, and a friend or roommate or relative saw them watching, they would be utterly lost about why they should care about this. Even the explanation for why Twice is indebted to Giran is presented as such an afterthought that does disservice to a potentially emotional moment, to what is supposed to be a pretty deep friendship, as deep as it can be for a weapons trader like Giran and an outcast-turned-criminal like Twice, so that, when Twice helps rescue Giran, we feel that emotional payoff.

It is honestly shocking that, for all the throwbacks, recaps, and flashbacks we get, including how Giran’s fingers match up to previous places where the League fought, that this still leaves a new viewer in the dark. And the problem lies at the feet of MHA arriving at a fifth-season slump: the series has gone on so long that things feel lazy and making far too many assumptions on what knowledge the audience is bringing. You’re not getting a bigger audience if you keep appealing to the diehard fans and the people reading the manga. After all, why would you keep doing ridiculous recaps and flashbacks if the fans already know what happened?

But speaking of the recaps and flashbacks, that should have been how this episode redeemed itself. As I said last time, if you re-worked the order of episodes to start with the Oboro Shirakumo story, that would be more shocking. But what if this episode could have been the very first episode of the season, and following the trend of previous seasons, make it a recap episode? We already had Izuku narrating a clip show, Class 1A at the pool, a photojournalist visiting the UA Dorms--it would be so much more interesting seeing “League of Villains camping in the woods while in the background Shigaraki gets squished by a giant.” Have the Villains tell campfire stories about how they got here: it would be a great excuse to re-use the animation and save on the budget. You could fit in a few gags, as Toga starts telling a really gruesome story but gets distracted by all the blood in it, while Twice’s story bounces between sugar-sweet happy and grim-and-dark chaos, while Compress and Spinner are stuck trying to keep them focused. It’d be a hell of a lot more interesting than how BONES somehow screwed up a potentially emotional volatile moment between Izuku and Amajiki that would put into question whether Izuku is going to have to kill a Villain and just how devastated Amajiki feels after Mirio lost his Quirk.

And speaking of whether Izuku is going to have to kill a Villain: obviously, this arc is setting up how much more dangerous Shigaraki is than UA gave him credit. Back in Season 2, I hated how Nezu and UA staff referred to him as a “man-child,” given the connotations that have surrounded masculinity and being a man. I wrote that before 2016; in this post-2016 atmosphere, and the increased prevalence of toxic masculinity, I am, once again, that annoying word ambivalent. I am likewise ambivalent how well this series has shown Shigaraki to be able to form the plan he does by episode’s end. We’re only told by Spinner how much faster Shigaraki is getting and how much slower Gigantomachia has become--but the animation doesn’t show that. And we’re being told how great Shigaraki’s plan is--when it sounds ridiculous.

By cutting so much of Spinner’s narration from the manga, we also don’t get a scene where Spinner confronts Shigaraki to ask him what is his plan. Up to that point, Shigaraki has said that, with Kurogiri gone over the last month and the computers at the old League hideout destroyed, they can’t reach the Doctor. Spinner is insistent: what is the plan? Shigaraki responds that he just told them--as Gigantomachia crashes through their hideout. The other characters explain for readers like me who aren’t following: Shigaraki just said Kurogiri was gone; to contact the Doctor, Kurogiri sought Gigantomachia; Gigantomachia would sniff out where Shigaraki is and bring him to the Doctor. Brilliant--that shows more attention to Shigaraki’s planning and scheming, and now, it’s not even here in the episode to make me think this guy is that smart. (This episode also had Shigaraki reveal his plan to have Gigantomachia attack the MLA, whereas it was Spinner who predicted that was going to be Shigaraki’s plan--so, again, we’re not letting Spinner stand out as smarter than we expected, either.)

I know Shigaraki is supposed to be our chessmaster, given his association with gaming, especially when he was faking his ignorance about shogi to lower Overhaul’s guard before defeating him and stealing his Quirk-cancelling bullets. But I’m having the same problem I had when following All For One throughout this anime: it just feels like these two antagonists are getting ahead out of sheer luck and because everyone else is a fool, not because either of them are that great as villains. Give me a Xanatos, give me a Luthor, give me a Norman Osborne (not Clone Saga Osborne, a different one). Show me Shigaraki is more than a pawn for All For One and the Doctor, because I don’t feel anything here, not even when we’re supposed to feel that Shigaraki has some legitimate concern for All For One that just isn’t getting communicated to me, whether by my stubbornness or because the content is not giving the animators and actors what they deserve. Eric Vale can sell the hell out of a scene, but Shigaraki’s talk about All For One is not giving that opportunity to the actor.

My remarks this time are a lot more disorganized and doesn’t really arrive at any conclusion. I have more to say about how this arc works and doesn’t work, especially when it comes to how ridiculous the MLA comes across in underestimating the League, but we’ll get to that next time.

#my hero academia #shigaraki #league of villains #meta liberation army #spinner #long post #mha spoilers

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falling-pages · 3 years

Text

Solara: TamaKyo

Honestly I have no excuse for this except that I just wanted some Tamakyo.

Synopsis: Tamaki and Kyoya finally agree on a name for their unborn child.

Ships: Tamaki Suoh x Kyoya Ootori

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

btw, Reiko is their surrogate <3

Golden rays bounced off the water as the sun dipped beneath the end of the world. Kyoya had always had an odd fascination with sunsets, especially at the beach, when it appeared the star was swallowed by the ocean, only to rise again the next morning. How it died to itself each night before rising into a new day fresh and bright and alive. He knew that wasn’t how it worked--perspectives and optical illusions and all that--but he still found it enticing, how the light could disappear, its only reason for coming again was to bring light and life to the solar system.

He sat in the sand, knees propped up to his chest. His forearms burned with the exertion of keeping them close, but he groaned into the stretch, rolling his neck and arching his back. Vacation was the only time he truly felt relaxed, at the beach especially so--be it because Tamaki’s shirtless body roaming the water or sipping pina coladas while reading a good book, he couldn’t tell.

Crunching sand behind him alerted him of his beloved’s approach. Tamaki never could be subtle, despite his charisma and heavy charm, even less so at the beach, when his long legs sprawled across the uneven ground like a newborn deer.

“The sand is cold, my love,” Tamaki said as he squatted down. “Allow me to warm you up.”

It was a bold-face lie--Fiji in June meant warm sand even in the evenings--but, recognizing his old tricks, Kyoya smirked and allowed Tamaki to settle down behind him, pulling Kyoya between his stretched-out legs and wrapping his arms around his waist.

Kyoya sighed and rested his head against Tamaki’s shoulder, relaxing in his hold. Marrying the Suoh heir meant he had to quickly come to terms with physical affection, a challenge he was never presented with growing up, but Tamaki’s hands on him soon drove away that aversion, replacing the unfamiliarity with a craving need akin to that of a child who needs a stuffed animal to keep the nightmares away.

Given the opportunity, Tamaki turned and attacked Kyoya’s neck and cheek with kisses. He laved his tongue and lips across the skin, so sticky with salt and sand. The air was heavy with pheromones and the scent of flowers, the two of them lost in their tropical paradise. Citrus smells burned his nose, but he just continued to bury his face in Kyoya’s shoulder. A maid had forgotten to pack Kyoya’s cologne, but he didn’t quite mind; he smelled like the soft sheets of their bedroom, the vanilla incense in the meditation room, the eucalyptus in his body wash.

“Sniff any harder and your nose might fall off,” Kyoya teased.

Jerked from his reverie, Tamaki responded with another dramatic inhale, clutching his husband even tighter to his chest. “‘S not my fault,” he whispered, nibbling on his neck, “that you smell so good.” The bite turned harsher. “Good enough to eat.”

Kyoya wiggled away far enough to see his face and placated him with a kiss. “Not on the sand, my darling. That is a mess I do not wish to clean up.”

They laughed, and Tamaki cuddled him tighter, hiding his face in the crook of his neck. Kyoya returned his eyes to the sun, now nearly sunk beneath the sea. It struck a chord in him, a reminder of what he had been meaning to share. He opened his mouth but closed it just as fast.

He didn’t know why he felt so nervous; Tamaki would like it, and even if he didn’t, he would be gracious about it.

“Tamaki,” he whispered, and felt him stir behind him.

“Yes, my dear?”

His mouth felt like cotton; licking his lips did little good. “I’ve been thinking...of names.”

Tamaki perked right up, squeaking out a little sound of excitement at the news. He scooted back, just enough to see Kyoya as he turned his head. His eyes blazed in excitement, lavender, like the slowly dying sky. “You have?”

“Yes. And I was thinking…” Kyoya gestured to the sunset. “Solara.”

“Solara.” An unusual name, to be sure, but classy, and wealthy, and beautiful.

“I know it’s neither Japanese nor French, as we were discussing,” Kyoya resumed with haste, “but I know how much you like nature names, and since Reiko is due in August, I thought it might--”

Tamaki cut him off, grabbing his face and kissing him, more teeth than lips as they smiled, clutching close in joy and anticipation. “Kyo--” he kissed him again-- “Kyo, I love it. I love it.”

Kyoya chuckled as his glasses were knocked askew, but even without them he could see his lover’s brilliant smile and glassy eyes. “I know you really wanted something French, but this is Latin, so it might be close--”

He was interrupted, again, by Tamaki’s kisses, and this time he just determined to stay silent and enjoy the moment, enjoy their clashing noses and teeth and laughter in a way he was never allowed to growing up--a way he only could with Tamaki.

Once Tamaki finished laughing, burying his head between Kyoya’s shoulders, he began to cry so severely that Kyoya dug out his head and cradled his cheeks, wiping away the glistening tears rolling down his warm pink skin. He hiccuped, as Kyoya tried to ask what was wrong, his eyes reflected that beautiful sunset.

“We’re…” his brain stopped functioning, and there were no thoughts behind those eyes. Finding Japanese too difficult at the moment, he switched to French: “We’re having a baby.”

“Oui,” Kyoya said, catching one stray crystalline tear on his jaw. “We’re having a baby.”

“Her name is Solara…”

“Yes.”

“Like the sunset…”

Kyoya shifted away, pressing his back against Tamaki’s chest, so together they faced the night sky. He took his husband’s hand and traced the faint remaining streaks of orange against the midnight blue canvas. The scattered remains until the world comes to life again.

“No, my darling,” he whispered. “Like the sunrise.”

#ouran high school host club #tamaki suoh #kyoya ootori #tamaki x kyoya #tamakyo #kyotama #ohshc #tamaki suoh x kyoya ootori

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lavenderbexlatte · 4 years

Text

play you on repeat

stray kids 11.8k words female reader insert FemDom!Reader x Sub!3RACHA EXPLICIT/NSFW

🖤 warnings: unprotected sex, degradation 🖤

Series Masterlist (Parts 1-7)

connect with me! / masterlist

The three of them follow you all the way to the front door in a line like little ducklings, eager-eyed and silent as you part the crowds of students and friends on your way outside.

You only see those eager eyes when you turn around on the front porch of the random house that's throwing this party. Changbin stands just behind you, Jisung after him and Chan bringing up the rear.

They really want more, then. Their instant agreement kind of surprises you; it's one thing to flirt or make out with someone at a party, but it's another thing entirely to invite random classmates home for an orgy. But you're not crazy or stupid enough to let the chance pass you by. You're all in.

"Okay, boys," you say, "Where are we doing this?"

"Me and 'Bin live together," says Chan quickly.

You regard him coolly. "Just you two?"

"Just us," he nods.

That's promising. You live independently but you have roommates, and while you're sure you could sneak one hookup into your room, three of them might turn some heads. Your roommates are patient, but not that patient.

So you smile at them. "Okay. I trust you three aren’t gonna try any dirty tricks on me?"

"Dirty tricks?" Changbin repeats.

You shrug. "Stealing my wallet. Selling me into indentured servitude. Harvesting my organs. The usual nightmare date stuff."

"Why would we do that?" Jisung asks, looking amused but also concerned.

Is he worried that you don't trust them? That's kind of cute.

You just smile wider. "We don't know each other very well, I’m a woman and you’re three men. You guys might be dangerous."

It’s obvious that you’re teasing them. You can't help but laugh a little, saying it, since you’ve actually been alone with the three of them before, for your school project some weeks ago. Besides, the most unpredictable and potentially dangerous person here is you. That's already been proven. The three of them seem just as amused as you, though, so you've succeeded in breaking any tension that was gathering.

"Did you guys drive here?" you ask.

"No," says Jisung.

"Neither did I," you say, “I was planning on getting drunk.”

"No worries. Called a cab already," says Chan.

His cocky attitude is back as he waves his phone in your direction, the screen showing a little animated car tracing its way to your location. When did he order a ride? More importantly, at what point did he assume you were gonna wanna go back to his place? He's right, of course, and you do want to, but come on.

"Presumptuous," you tease.

He shrugs. "Well, 'Sung has roommates, and I figured you wouldn't want three near strangers at your place."

The flash of his eyes lets you know that he’s feeling quite high and mighty for having made up your mind for you. Oh, you're going to have to break this attitude ASAP.

You set about thinking of exactly how to do that as you meander toward the road to wait for the car, trusting that someone will tell you when it arrives. You stand on the sidewalk in the dim circle of light cast by a streetlamp. Chan wants more, right?

So do you. Three boys...three boys who are all partners, it seems. There's gonna be some finagling tonight, some organization needed. You ponder exactly what you want from them. The options are endless, truly. This is going to be very, very good.

When the car pulls up, Changbin comes over and slings his arm around your waist, like he's the one taking you home and not the other way around (figuratively, at least). You look at him, amused, relishing how you can almost meet his eye with the small difference between his height and yours.

"What's this?" you ask, gesturing at his arm around you.

"I'm being gentlemanly," he pouts, bottom lip pushed out exaggeratedly, "Don't kill the vibe."

He's being silly, you realize. That firm confidence from before is gone, replaced by what seems to be an eager desire for you to like him. He's in luck, then. You already like him.

You climb into the back seat of the small black sedan, scooting all the way over to the far window seat. Chan follows right behind you, settling in the middle with Jisung after him. Changbin is up front with the driver. You can tell that the boys would rather have you in the middle seat by the way that Chan and Jisung are playfully glaring at each other, but you much prefer to have your own space by the window. Nobody likes the middle seat.

The boys busy themselves with their phones on the ride, but you just watch the boys instead. You can tell that they know you're watching. Jisung meets your eye once and looks away quickly, grinning, and Changbin is just barely resisting turning all the way around to look at you head-on. You think you know what you want to do with those two, since they're pretty communicative and easy to read, so you study the real predicament.

Chan.

He's got pretty hands, you notice, as he taps away at his phone. He also has one of those dorky leather phone cases with wallet pockets. You just can't get into those; young people use them a lot, now, but you always associate them with dads and teachers and stuff. Old people. Chan's is full of cards, his student ID and a credit card and others. You peer closer at his driver's license with its tiny picture of him. His curly hair is blonde in the photo, which is cute.

You notice something else, too - his birthdate. Chan is in your year in school, but you never knew...

"Are you...are you younger than me?" you ask him, delighted.

He blinks at you. "How old are you?"

You tell him - a year or so older than him. It's not much, but definitely something in a society that puts so much emphasis on age. It also puts you at the oldest in this group by a bit of a margin, considering Changbin is a couple years younger than Chan and Jisung is younger still.

"That makes me the noona tonight," you tease.

Chan gives you an alarmed side-eye, his pale cheeks blushing furiously and his pupils blown big. He's into the noona thing, too? You wonder exactly how many little one-ups you're going to have on him tonight.

So you're the oldest. Hm. You grin to yourself. So they thought they were bagging a shy, quiet submissive, and instead they got you.

The ride to their place is short, and you're surprised when the cab pulls up in front of a small one-story house instead of an apartment building. Not many students around here have homes, since housing prices in the city are predictably sky-high and out of the average student budget. The boys get out of the car right away, thanking the driver, but you take your time. You study the house, the cars in the driveway (two of them, one silver sedan, one black mid-size SUV) and the neat front garden.

"A house," you say mildly.

Changbin looks embarrassed for the first time that night, as he stutters, "My family - I'm - we have-"

"Fucking PILES of money," Chan finishes for him, grinning, "I pay him rent, can you believe it?"

"I didn't want him to pay anything but he insisted," Changbin says.

"I'm not a freeloader," Chan insists.

"You think I'm gonna make my own boyfriend pay rent when I could buy him his own house?" Changbin grumbles, heading up the front walk.

Jisung has already let himself into the house uninterested in the conversation. He doesn't live there, you remember, but obviously he's no stranger. You follow Changbin inside, vaguely aware of Chan coming after you. It's a cute house, you admit to yourself, as you step in the door and kick off your shoes.

It does look like a house where a bunch of boys live, though. An artists' den. There's music equipment strewn all over the small living room; Bluetooth speakers, a midi board, a full-size electric keyboard, a drum pad. Propped on a small table in the corner is a silver slab that you realize is a YouTube subscriber award plaque, and there’s a Soundcloud affiliate certificate next to it.

"The rumors about you guys are true, then," you say, mostly to yourself, not even thinking.

Changbin looks at you, confused. So does Jisung. Chan just smiles lopsidedly.

"What rumors?" Jisung asks.

"Oh." You can feel your face heating up. "Just that you guys are...musicians."

You were actually thinking about their minor celebrity status, their Soundcloud rapper status, but you don't know if that will come across as...like...offensive? Is it rude to call people Soundcloud rappers, since that’s kind of become an insult? They're obviously even more well-known than you thought, if the 100k subs plaque is anything to go off. Not just campus royalty, but actually somewhat famous. It’s bizarre.

"Musicians," Chan repeats, amused.

You kind of hate the expression on his face. He's still holding onto that weird confident charm from the party, the face that you assume he puts on in these situations to pretend he's not one good hair-pull away from whining and begging.

"You can't pretend that you don't know," you say, more aggressively than you mean to, "On campus, with everyone from school…you guys are super...popular."

It sounds so stupid to say, like you're the ugly duckling in a bad teen movie. 'You can’t like meeeee, you're soooo cool and popular!'

"Are we?" Jisung asks, looking genuinely surprised.

Oh my God. You want to facepalm. You want to grab one of them and shake them.

"You literally tried to seduce me in there," you point out, "Would that have worked if you weren't popular? That's something popular people do. Use their, like, social standing to get people to sleep with them."

"That would make us pretty shitty people," Chan says delicately. "Imbalance of power and all that."

Oh. You didn't mean to accuse them of anything. You open your mouth to apologize, feeling incredibly out of place, but Jisung interrupts you, completely unbothered.

"It's only worked once before, anyway," he says.

"...Picking someone up?" you ask.

Changbin nods, "And that only worked because Felix already had a crush on me and Chan. We just had to sell him on Jisung."

"Hey!" Jisung pouts.

Chan pets his hair placatingly, and Jisung shrugs him off in favor of heading for the kitchen, mumbling about being a fucking catch. But you’re focusing on a different bit of what Changbin told you.

"You guys fucked Felix Lee?" you ask, incredulous.

“Maybe a month ago, yeah,” Changbin says.

The cute, freckled face of dance team captain Felix Lee swims in your mind for a moment, followed by the memory of his chiseled abs from a performance earlier in the year. He’s a rising sophomore, but solidly half of campus has a crush on him. Damn, THOSE are their standards, and they wanna fuck YOU? You gotta start giving yourself more credit.

"So, we're popular," Chan muses.

"You had to have known that," you shake your head, "Literally everyone knows you. First years are so thirsty for you. That's why I was so-"

You cut yourself off. They don't need to know that you were flustered when they approached you, back there. They don't need the ego trip.

So you just affix your best innocent smile to you face, looking the three of them over. Chan, leaning against the back of the couch. Changbin, lining up all four pairs of shoes (theirs and yours) by the front door. And Jisung, returned from the kitchen with a bottle of water that he's chugging like a dying man.

"You didn't invite me over to talk about your social status," you say instead.

"We sure didn't," Chan agrees.

"First things first, then," you say, "Boundaries. You guys have any hard limits? Safewords? Musts and don'ts?"

"Nope," says Jisung, taking another sip of the water to punctuate it.

"No musts or no don'ts?" you ask.

"Yes," he quips.

You can't help the way your smile grows. "Alright. Anyone else?"

"No serious degrading," Changbin says, very very quietly.

“Praise motivated, huh?” you coo, “Cute.”

Changbin looks slightly embarrassed, but his eyes are sharp and engaged as he adds, “And no digs at my size.”

You grin. "Size or size?"

"Either!" he pouts.

"Sounds fair to me," you say.

You fix your eyes on the last one: Chan, still looking only mildly interested and very calm. But you can see the very tips of his ears going red, and then it spreads down his cheeks, and then down his neck as you watch him.

And finally, he says, "I'm not good with praise."

Jisung laughs, loud and ridiculous. "That's an understatement."

You smile warmly at Chan, not wanting him to back down if this is a legit thing for him, "So does that mean no praise?"

"No," he says immediately, "Just that...if you - I get all-"

"Flustered," you finish for him. "Good to know."

You pause for a second, wondering what kind of hard limits you'll need to bring up to them tonight. They don't seem like the kind of partners to push you into anything, if they way they're already tiptoeing around is any indication.

"I don't like hitting in the face," you say, after a moment. "Or blood."

Changbin gives you a look. "Is that the kind of stuff you do on your first night with someone?"

You laugh, "No, not usually. But some people have really specific fetishes, and I live to please. Gotta lay everything out before we start."

Chan nods sincerely, like he knows exactly what you're saying, and Jisung follows suit. You're satisfied that you've covered your bases now. And besides, you really want to get started. You have three beautiful men here to play with.

So you say, "Okay. Who's first?"

You're still smiling, but you let some of your pent-up excitement leak into it, wondering if any of them will take the bait. You wonder if they're starting to think that you're some kind of super strict domme. Very serious, or very demanding, or something. You've had that problem before, with people crumbling before you even get started since you're so blunt about boundaries. Some people take that to mean that you like rigid roles and rules and set scenes.

But that's not really true. After the communication is solidified and you trust your partner, you like to just...let go.

Much to your amusement, the first one to crack is Jisung.

He practically bounces up to you, his face so perfectly cute that you wonder if he practices the look in the mirror. It's equal parts funny and ironic, since he's the youngest and also, from what you've seen at school, the one who wants to be taken most seriously.

"I'm first," he informs you.

You smile. You can't help it. His expression is so open and happy, even though his eyes are a little nervous. It's just so much. You gently nudge Chan away from the couch, and pat the back of it gently, invitingly. Jisung seems to understand you immediately and hops right up, balancing himself on the frame and the tops of the cushions, his legs dangling down the back of the couch. You settle yourself between his legs, standing purposefully, spreading your hands across his back to support him gently.

He leans back a little as if to test you, and you hold him up easily. It's not so much that you're strong, but that Jisung's so lean and slim. And even if he did fall, it would just be the short drop onto the seat of the couch. His eyes go wider as he realizes what kind of game you're playing with him. It's a signal, and you figured he'd be smart enough to pick up on it.

"I've got you," you say, very softly, into his ear.

Even if you look unassuming, even if they're taller and louder and bolder than you. Even if you're a gentle dom who puts up with some antics.

You're in control.

When you pull back and look at him, you swear you can see the little cartoon stars blooming in his eyes. He definitely got the message loud and clear.

He nods, almost imperceptibly, and says, "I know."

And you kiss him. He deserves it. A proper kiss, not like the teasing you'd done to him at the party. You let him lick into your mouth, scrape your teeth gently over his soft bottom lip. He's a good boy, you decide. Certified good boy.

Jisung leans back a bit more as he pulls away from you, and he lurches, loses his balance. He doesn’t go anywhere, since you're still holding him up securely, but he looks spooked. It fascinates you, how quickly he's fallen into the game of it. There's no risk if he falls, and yet...

"Can I-" he asks, " - can I touch-"

"Yeah," you say, cutting him off.

And then he's gently holding your face with one hand, the other arm draped over your shoulder, fingers playing with your hair. His body is much more relaxed as he kisses you, and you relish in it.

Oh, he's a sweetheart, you realize. Not a pushover or anything; he's still cupping your face and smiling into the kiss, confident and comfortable. But a good boy.

"You're so pretty," you say.

Jisung honest to God whines against your lips at the praise.

"It's true," you say, amused.

"He likes that a lot," comes Chan's voice.

You jump, having nearly forgotten your audience again. The other two are standing just beside you, watching intently as you work over their boyfriend.

"Being called pretty?" you ask him, as if Jisung isn't even there.

Chan nods.

"Well, he is," you affirm, leaning in to kiss Jisung's nose, trying to get your groove back.

Honestly, it’s a struggle to keep up with the fact that you’re trying to dom three people at once. You know you’ll do fine. It’s group sex, not a goddamn triathlon. But it’s useful here that you prefer domming psychologically, rather than with lots of physical force. You don’t know exactly what these three are used to, what they’re comfortable doing. A first-time with three people at once probably isn't the best time to fly in with a strap-on and demand people obey you.

So doing this the old-fashioned way, with simple baiting, praising, awarding, withholding…that’s gonna be the way forward.

“Who’s got the best bed for a foursome?” you ask, still holding up Jisung but looking expectantly back at Chan and Changbin.

Changbin nudges Chan with his elbow, "D'you think you could handle moving your pillow fort? For sexy purposes."

"Pillow fort?" you repeat.

"I have a lot of pillows, it's fine," Chan defends. "No big deal."

"He makes a nest with them," pipes up Jisung, "Like a crib."

Chan glares at him, "I'm sorry, I didn't know it was Put Chan On Blast Night."

"Okay, whose bed is biggest?" you ask instead, deigning not to comment on the pillow thing any further.

"Changbin's," says Jisung.

"Then we can go there."

"Yes, ma'am," Changbin says easily, and he turns on his heel to head for the bedroom door on the right side of the house.

It's a small house, so he's quickly out of sight. Chan follows after him. You unwind your arms from around Jisung's little waist, and he lets himself drop dramatically backwards onto the couch cushions. You follow Chan, and Jisung chases after you.

Changbin's room is painted an off-white, the bedding rich dark blue against neutral wood furniture. It's extremely well-done for a college boy's room. You're impressed. It might even be more cohesive than your room. Now, at night, with just the soft light coming in from outside in the gap of his slightly-open blackout curtains, it looks impossibly atmospheric.

"Hold on," Changbin mutters, as you take in the space.

There's a soft click, and a set of fairy lights come on, strung around the perimeter of the room. They're an interesting color array, purple and blue and cool white. It's bright enough to see what you're doing, to see each other, but dark enough to set the tone. Yeah. They have a lot of sex in here. You're kind of excited to be part of it.

"Is there anyone-" you start, before your mind can filter the thought, and you stop.

But all three of them are just looking at you, standing there in a little line. You walk deeper into the room. You can do this. And so you swallow that last trace of lingering shame and ask them outright.

"Is there anyone who doesn't wanna fuck me?"

Jisung and Changbin break out in raucous laughter, and Chan just regards you.

"Why would we not want to?" Chan asks.

"I mean," you huff feeling petulant despite yourself, "Some people have no interest in the P in V stuff and would prefer something else, shut up!"

"You ask a lot of questions," Chan shoots back.

"I'm being considerate," you reply.

"No, I think we're all on board," interrupts Changbin, as if to head off a real argument.

You have no intention of fighting, though. You wonder what kind of people these three have hooked up with in the past. They obviously have no communication difficulties with each other, and yet they're (well...Chan is) being so difficult with you.

"Perfect," you say, "'Bin, c'mere."

Changbin shuffles nearer to you, leaving the others behind, and you look him over carefully. He's broad and strong, much bigger than Jisung. Your approach to him has to be a little different, you think. You make a quick decision: he's gonna be your ally tonight.

You lean into his ear and whisper the plan you've been making up on the fly. He listens. And when you've finished, Changbin grins conniving and bright.

"Does that sound good?" you ask him.

He nods. "I think they'll like it."

"Like what?" Jisung asks eagerly.

"Don't worry about it," you reply.

"I'm gonna worry about it," says Chan.

That dude. So neurotic. You really need to figure out what his buttons are, so you can know which ones to press and which to avoid. It's gonna take more than a little hair-pulling to figure out, you wager.

"'Bin, give me a hand?" you say, gesturing at your top.

Changbin gives you a winning smile and looks gloatingly back at Jisung, then at Chan, and then he reaches down to leisurely unbutton your shirt. You never wear button-downs, but you're glad you did tonight. They make undressing so much more...cinematic.

You shrug off the shirt when Changbin's done, the final button falling open, and you move next to strip off his t-shirt, too. He wears those things tight. He always has; you can't even count how many days in class you've spent staring at the muscular span of his shoulders. This one is the same, clinging to his form ridiculously, like he's trying out to be Captain America's body double.

When the t-shirt is gone, you're greeted with a thick, toned upper body that dips into solid, narrower hips. Not quite cut, no chocolate abs or anything, but he's got some impressive working muscle under his deep-toned skin. Beef. He's beefy.

"Wow," you say appreciatively, running your hand from his collarbone all the way down to his belt.

"What about us?" Jisung asks.

"Patience," you murmur, "Don't you want Changbinnie to feel good?"

Jisung pouts, but says, "Yes..."

"Then you can wait your turn," you say plaintively.

"Can I kiss you, noona?" Changbin asks.

You look at him, amused. "So you heard that conversation."

Changbin shakes his head. "I knew before. Chan-hyung always calls you-"

Chan squeaks, mortified, cutting him off, but you've heard plenty.

"Oh, he always calls me noona," you purr, "Before he knew how old I was?"

"Yes," Changbin says.

That's interesting, to say the least. It means that their approach to you from the start was to defer familiar respect and treat you like an elder, rather than a peer. Hm.

You get a little closer, bringing your face up to his. "Do you talk about me a lot?"

"No," Changbin breathes, "But when we do-"

"Dude!" Chan hisses.

"Don't listen to him," you soothe Changbin, giving Chan a little wink over your shoulder, "Thank you for telling me."

You kiss Changbin, since he did ask so nicely and gave you a wonderful tidbit about Chan. He's a good kisser. Needy; he's pressing you backwards with his enthusiasm. You reach to put your arms around his neck, but then you reconsider. Instead, you fold yourself against his chest, palms flat on his pecs. It gives the illusion that you're much smaller than him, even though admittedly he's not a very tall person.

The change in his body language is instantaneous. Your hunch was right - he likes feeling big. He did say not to make digs about his size. Well, you certainly won't about his height. But his size...

You move down and begin unbuckling his belt.

"How come only he gets to get naked?" Jisung complains.

You glance at him, hands busy unbuttoning and zipping down Changbin.

"I'm not stopping you," you reply, "You could undress without permission. But you'll miss out on all the fun if you just go off on your own."

Jisung blinks doe eyes at you, and Chan huffs out a laugh.

"Some dom you are, yeah?" Chan scoffs.

You shrug. "I can't make you do anything. I'm not gonna force you."

"No?" Chan says.

"That's the fun of this stuff, isn't it?" you say.

You ruffle Changbin's hair playfully, and motion for him to continue undressing himself. Willing all the grace you know you possess, you walk over to Chan, keeping your motions fluid and careless. You want him to see exactly what kind of dom you are.

"The fact that you don't have to listen to me. That's the fun," you say, "You don't have to. But you will. You wanna be good."

Chan swallows hard. "I..."

"I'm sure you like being good," you continue, cupping Chan's face in both of your hands, forcing him to meet your eyes. "You're gonna be good for me, aren't you, peach?"

"Yeah," he says, so quietly that you think you've imagined it, his cheeks burning red.

"I'm sorry," you hum, "I didn't hear that. Yes...?"

"Yes, noona," Chan says.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, noona, I'll be good for you."

"I thought you would be," you say, satisfied. "Go sit on the bed. Against the headboard."

He looks like he wants to complain about that, but you shrug again, punctuating that you're truly not here to force anyone. Domming is about control, not force. If Chan wants to turn over control to you, he will.

And he does.

He scrambles up the bed and sits with his back against the headboard. You can feel his eyes on you, and Jisung's wide, wide eyes, as you return to Changbin.

Changbin is down to his boxer-briefs, and God, he's good-looking. Solid and masculine. You kind of just want to have your way with him and be done with it. But that's not the plan.

“Jisung,” you say.

He jumps, not expecting to be addressed. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay bottoming tonight?”

“’Course,” he affirms, “Always. For who?”

You glance at Changbin, who nods, and Jisung smiles his biggest, most genuine smile, crooked front tooth and all.

“I like this plan,” he says.

That assent is all you need to hear.

“Is there lube?” you ask Changbin.

He turns away, presumably to grab it, and you snag Jisung by the wrist and tug him toward you. Jisung's wide smile is distracting, as you have him lie down on the bed. Changbin's bed is a king, you think, a really really big mattress with plenty of room to use. But when Jisung sprawls out easily, the top of his head is close to Chan.

"You have one rule, up there," you say to Chan, "No touching."

"No touching...him?" Chan asked, pointing at Jisung.

You smile. "No touching. Him, me, 'Bin, yourself. No touching."

Chan looks wide-eyed, almost hurt at your words. You can't tell exactly how he's feeling, so you move around the bed until you're right in front of him, and take one of his hands in yours.

"Is that okay?" you ask, "Are you okay with that?"

"I'm okay," he says.

You look at Changbin, waiting by Jisung's knees at the edge of the bed, and at Jisung himself, watching you upside-down.

"Can I implement the traffic light system?" you ask them, "It's the easiest safeword system for me, I think, with so many of you."

"You mean the color thing," Changbin clarifies.

"Yeah," you nod.

"We've used that one before," says Jisung agreeably, "We don't usually use any safewords but we can do that.

You turn back to Chan. "Does that work for you?"

He smiles, and it warms up his face all the way to his eyes, so you relax.

"Yeah, that works well," he says.

"Good," you say, "So. Color?"

"Green," says Chan.

"Great."

You lean in and kiss him for his trouble, realizing with a thrill that you've really only kissed him one other time. He's damn good at it, too, eager but gentle with just enough pressure. You pull back right as he starts to really melt against you, and drop his hand back onto his lap, in favor of returning to Jisung where you've left him.

Jisung, for his part, is lounging back on his elbows, just watching you, and you nudge his knees farther apart as you settle in between them. You can feel Changbin's warmth behind you again as he hovers, not quite touching you.

"Noona," he whines.

You glance back at him, his chin at your shoulder.

"I know," you tut, "You're already doing a good job for me, gorgeous."

He beams at the praise, and repeats, "Noonaaaa."

You smile to yourself at the lilt in his voice. "You can touch, baby."

There are suddenly lips against the side of your throat, Changbin trailing kisses across your skin, and hands on your waist pulling you back gingerly, as if he's afraid you'll tell him off for being too greedy (which is a good and valid worry). You lean away, down toward Jisung, and coax him upright to peel the baggy t-shirt off him. As you get the garment over his head, you're surprised to see firm abs and pecs. Jisung is small and thin, but apparently very, very muscular. Huh.

"You've been holding out on me," you chide him.

"Don't think about it that way, noona," Jisung says, "Think of it as a nice surprise."

You huff out a laugh. He's being kind of mouthy, but it's cute, so you're gonna let it slide. Mostly.

"Are you in any position to be telling me what to do?" you tease.

Jisung shrugs, lips pursed. You tickle your fingers down the hard line of his abs, grinning when he jumps and squeaks under your touch.

"'Bin?" you ask.

"Yes?"

"Who here is overdressed?"

Changbin hums against your skin, mouthing at the soft juncture of your neck and your shoulder, and says, "Jisungie, noona. And you."

"Not Chan?" you ask lightly.

Changbin grins. You can feel the flats of his teeth against your skin.

"Not unless you say so, noona," Changbin says.

"Good call, gorgeous," you say, leaning back into his touch.

He's hard against your ass, you note. Perfect. You go for Jisung's skintight jeans next, unbuttoning and peeling the black denim down his slim thighs. He's so dainty, all thin graceful limbs, his frame small but masculine and defined. You can see his cock twitch with interest as you get the jeans all the way off, his boxers beginning to tent.

"Excited?" you ask, letting your hand trail over him, gently feeling the outline of him through the thin fabric.

"Yeah," he says, shameless.

"Who should get undressed first?" you ask Jisung,

Jisung must register something in your tone, as his big eyes look from you, to Changbin, back to you.

And then he says, "Me, noona."

"Oh," you purr, "Good boy."

You free him from his boxers, and it's not a surprise when you're met with a pretty, proportional cock, flushed and lovely. You're hit with the urge to feel the weight of him in your mouth. And fuck, this is YOUR game, isn't it? So you lean down and do just that, taking his head between your lips.

Jisung gasps, high and pretty, and you can see Chan's face above you darken. He looks...jealous?

"Peach, you okay?" you say, coming off Jisung to speak.

Chan looks at you, puppy-eyed.

"I want..." he trails plaintively.

"I know you do," you agree. “Don’t be greedy.”

He's still sitting obediently, hands balled into fists atop his thighs and not touching anything. He's the only one fully dressed, and you can tell that it's driving him crazy. He can wait. You know he can.

So you nuzzle against Jisung's stomach indulgently and ask him, "Who next?"

Jisung pauses, comprehending what you've asked, and then he says, "Changbin-hyung."

You place your hand over Changbin's where it still rests in its spot on your waist.

"You heard him, Binnie," you say, "Go 'head."

His warmth vanishes from behind you for only a few seconds before he's back, his now unencumbered cock brushing against your shorts. You grip Jisung's length again, pumping him for a moment, looking down at him with a glint in your eye.

"Here's what's going to happen," you say, standing up properly, "I'm going to prep you for Changbin, baby. And Changbin is gonna have some fun of his own while I do it."

Jisung nods his understanding at your words, his expression delighted, and Chan is all but panting as he sits pretty for you. There's a lovely flush creeping from his ears toward the neckline of his button-down shirt.

You shuck off your own shorts, left now in just your bra and panties. As you look down at yourself, you realize that while they are not a matching set, your underwear ARE about the same color, which you count as a personal victory. It's the little things.

"Hand me a pillow, peach?" you ask Chan.

He nearly topples over in his eagerness to give you a pillow from the head of the bed. You have Jisung raise his hips, and settle the pillow under him, angling him up for better access. He doesn't seem the slightest bit self-conscious, on display to you like that. You almost hate how attractive that is.

"Everyone, color?" you ask.

"Green," chirps Jisung, almost before you're done speaking.

"Green," Chan agrees.

"So green," Changbin groans from behind you, where he's still grinding against your ass.

"Wonderful," you murmur.

You turn your attention fully to the boy beneath you. Jisung is impeccably groomed, maybe even better than you, you think. There's a neat thatch of hair around the base, and he's all but hairless everywhere else. It's impressive.

You trail your hand over his balls, his perineum, to his hole, and he chokes out a moan as you just graze the thin skin there.

"Are you sure you're ready to go, Jisungie?" you ask, and he nods eagerly.

"I wanted to bottom tonight anyway," he informs you cheekily.

Chan laughs, which melts any of your lingering worries that you've overwhelming or neglecting him.

"That's true," Chan says softly. "He told us before the party."

"You guys are so much fun," you say.

The lube is laying on the comforter next to you, so you pick it up, pop the top, and coat two of your fingers in the stuff. You lean down over Jisung again, knowing how obscene you must look together, him all spread out for you and you draped over his lithe little body. You're sure both Chan, in front, and Changbin, behind, are getting an eyeful of the two of you.

"I'm gonna start," you warn Jisung.

"Finally," Jisung teases, "I was beginning to think - shit-"

He's cut off as you ease your index finger past that ring of muscle. The slide is much easier than you expected, but he still whines out in a pitch higher than you would have thought.

"You do this a lot?" you ask him, only half-teasing, slowly pumping your finger and relishing in the easy way he takes you, "You're so open."

"I do, yeah," Jisung agrees, breathless.

"And here I thought you were the bottom of the group," you say to Chan, letting a little bit of bite into your voice, wondering if they're at all into that.

Chan's flush picks back up, and he stammers, "I - mean-"

"He can be a great little hole, too," Jisung says, casually, "I wrecked him a couple days ago, didn't I, hyung?"

Still blushing furiously, Chan nods.

"Interesting," you say simply, turning your attention back to Jisung, "Hey, what happened to those pretty sounds?"

You curl your finger slightly, and Jisung lets out another gasp.

"That's more like it," you praise.

You almost wish you had a strap here, so you could do the next part yourself, too. But your actual plan is gonna be just as much fun, so you can easily be content with this.

"Noona," comes Changbin's voice.

"Yes?" you answer.

"Can I...I mean..." Changbin trails off, seeming embarrassed.

"Can you?" you prompt, amused at his sudden shyness.

"Can I make you feel good, too?" he asks.

"Oh, baby," you simper, "Of course. So good, asking for permission."

Changbin laughs breathlessly, and so does Jisung.

"Isn't he good?" you ask Jisung.

"Good," Jisung agrees, though he nearly chokes on the word.

He seems to be ready for another finger, so you draw out and press back in with two, this time. At the same time, you lean down to take his length back into your mouth. Jisung whimpers again, starting to press his hips down against your hand.

As you're bent over at the waist, pleasuring Jisung, you feel tentative fingers pulling your panties to the side. You wonder if you're going to get the warm press of a cockhead, or-

"Oh," you breathe, pulling off Jisung's cock again to collect yourself as the unmistakable trace of a tongue wanders up your core.

Changbin pulls away just as quickly as he began, and you all but groan in frustration.

"Come on, gorgeous, don't be shy," you urge.

And the tongue returns, more eager this time, as Changbin settles himself fully between your legs. You steel yourself to enjoy while also focusing on the task at hand, prepping Jisung, and keeping your wits about you. Changbin definitely doesn't seem like he's only a sub, and neither do the other two, honestly. They seem like switches, if you had to hazard a guess. It would be in poor taste to let any of them turn the tables on you, now, wouldn't it?

Your mind wanders a little as you scissor and work your two fingers, Jisung trembling and whimpering praise under you, Changbin's plush lips against your clit. How the fuck did you get here?

You're kind of floored to think that maybe an hour ago, you were at that party, bored, barely buzzed, and anonymous, or so you thought. Plain old you. And now you're here, sandwiched between two of the hot, popular guys from Physics class with the third one watching you and white-knuckling the sheets.

A surge of power sweeps through you at the thought. You're here. You have this. You deserve this. And you're gonna have a good fucking time.

"I'm ready!" Jisung is sputtering, "I'm - I'm-"

"Ready," you finish for him, bringing your focus back to the moment.

There's arousal building low in your stomach. Changbin is good with his mouth. You kind of wish you could see him while he's doing this.

"Ready for what?" you ask Jisung.

"More!" he whines, “More, Jesus, two fingers is basic!”

You pull your fingers out, which just makes him whine louder, to reapply lube. This time, you push in with three, and Jisung keens long and low.

"You know, Changbinnie," you say, making sure to keep your voice measured and casual, "You're gonna need to get wet to fit inside Jisungie's pretty hole."

Changbin pulls himself up at your words, leaving your core wet and exposed and distinctly throbbing, and he leans forward to take the lube from you. You stop him before he can take the bottle.

"That's not what I meant," you say sweetly.

There's a fraction of a second while he catches up, and then Changbin groans openly against your shoulder blade, as you continue to work your fingers steadily in and out of Jisung.

"Noona, we have condoms in Chan-hyung's room," Changbin says, "I can go-"

"No," you say, "No need."

And that's all the permission Changbin seems to need, before he's lining himself up.

"Can I?" he asks.

You coo. He hasn't missed a single beat, sweet and obedient and so ready to be good for you.

"You're so good, gorgeous," you say, "Yes, please."

He sinks into you quickly, no preamble, and you can't blame him for being eager because you're secretly just as ready for it. He's thicker than you expected, but you should have expected it, considering the rest of his body. You find yourself panting against Jisung’s hipbone, your fingers pausing inside Jisung as you enjoy the delicious stretch.

“Can I move, noona?” Changbin asks, sounding punched-out already.

“Take it slow,” you instruct him, “This is just a warmup for you, you know.”

Changbin whines under his breath but obeys you, pulling out agonizingly slowly. As you try to keep your head clear, you notice Chan shifting on the bed ahead of you, and you have an idea.

“Okay, peach,” you say, keeping your voice level, “Why don’t you come over here and have a good look?”

“A look?” Chan repeats, “At…”

You smile to yourself. “At whatever you want. Jisung is a pretty picture, I’m sure you know that.”

“And you, noona,” Changbin cuts in.

“And me?” you say, amused.

“Pretty,” says Changbin, by way of explanation, as he keeps up his slow, slow pace.

“Thanks,” you say, arching back against him, figuring he deserves a little reward.

You nod at Chan, encouraging, and he crawls off the bed and comes around behind you. You’re sure he can see everything from where he is - your fingers disappearing into Jisung’s heat, Changbin’s cock disappearing into you. The combined power of Changbin’s steady pace and Chan watching it all is a little overwhelming. You need to narrow your focus or else someone is gonna come before you intend it to happen, and that someone might just be you.

You gently pull your fingers out of Jisung’s hole, leaving him complaining behind you.

“It was just starting to get good, come on!” Jisung whines

“Patience, baby,” you say, giving Jisung a playing smack on the meat of his thigh.

You turn your head fully to look at Chan. He’s staring, transfixed, down on the place where Changbin’s cock is slowly working in and out of you. And now that your brain isn’t focusing on being careful with Jisung, the arousal is really catching up with you. You’re getting close.

Really, you reason, what’s the harm in having a little more fun for yourself?

“Jisungie,” you say, “You wanna give me a hand here?”

He looks rightfully confused, until you reach up and snap your own bra strap against your skin. Then Jisung winks at you, and reaches around to push-pull-snap open the hooks in the back in one fluid movement.

“How’d you get so good at that?” you ask him, amused. “None of your partners wear bras.”

Jisung looks offended. “Who says I don’t wear ‘em?”

“Good point.”

You shrug off the garment, now only in your panties, which aren’t doing much of anything anymore since Changbin’s fucking you around them. Jisung’s eyes are following your breasts as you readjust yourself, sitting up more and shifting your weight onto your knees. Man, your core is gonna be killing you tomorrow…

“Lock it up, baby, shit,” you tease Jisung, “How long has it been since you’ve seen tiddies?”

“That weren’t on a man? I don’t even know.”

“Hm.”

You reach down and start drawing lazy circles on your clit, and you can feel yourself clench down on Changbin at the stimulation. He gasps, and you tut at him.

“I know you can wait for me, gorgeous,” you say.

He whines, “But-”

“Changbinnie. You’re gonna let me feel good, aren’t you?” you ask him. “Don’t I deserve to cum first?”

“Yes,” he grinds out.

“Noona, can I do it?” Jisung asks suddenly.

You’re still hovering over him, all but laying on top of him, and you look down at his face. His eyes are fixed on your fingers, rubbing yourself through your underwear.

“Do what?” you ask, just to be difficult.

“Make you cum,” Jisung answers.

You take your hand off your clit and reach out to thread your fingers through Jisung’s, leading him back to the front of your panties.

“You and Binnie need to work together for this, huh?” you say, “One of you isn’t good enough? It has to be two?”

“I’m good enough,” Changbin argues.

“Shush,” you admonish, “Then prove it.”

You let your hand fall away again, as Jisung takes up the task. He slips his fingers down your waistband, circling hard and tight over your clit. Changbin, obedient to the end, is still somehow keeping up those slow, deep strokes that you demanded. And you have to admit: they’re determined to prove it.

“Jesus, noona,” Changbin whines.

“You’re not gonna cum yet,” you instruct.

“I know.”

Jisung meets Changbin’s eye over your shoulder; you can tell that’s what he’s doing from the smirk on Jisung’s face and the muttered shut up that Changbin stifles into your neck. He gets up on his knees, and you find yourself pressed between them, your forehead against Jisung’s breastbone as his fingers work under you. You glance up, intending to tell Jisung off for making his next move on his own, but the vision you see knocks that idea right out of your head.

They’re making out over you.

It’s so beautifully desperate, Changbin biting and panting into Jisung’s mouth and whining under it all as he fucks into you, Jisung with one hand fisted in Changbin’s hair and the other still dutifully circling your clit, wet and dirty. As you feel your peak coming on, you remember the last member of your party, poor Chan, still relegated to his spectator’s spot behind you all, still under orders not to touch. You look up at him, and God, you wish you had looked sooner.

Chan is standing there, hands cemented at his sides. He’s flushed from the tips of his ears all the way down his neck, to his chest, creeping under his shirt, and his eyes are hungry. But he’s being good, no matter how much he wants to move.

He’s still being good, and that’s what sends you over the edge. You drop your head back down against Jisung’s chest, and gasp and shake your way through your own orgasm. Changbin lets out a moan that borders on a shout, as you surprise him with your clenching walls, and he slows down even more, just grinding into you. There’s something so bone-deep satisfying about it, all three of the boys with their eyes on you and unable to do anything without your permission. They just have to watch and hold back.

You wait until you can speak properly before you say anything to them.

“You didn’t cum, did you, gorgeous?” you ask, swiveling your oversensitive pussy back on Changbin, spots swimming in your vision from how hard you came.

“No, noona,” Changbin says, and his voice is thin with strain but confident.

You know he didn’t, but it’s satisfying to make him say it. He’s holding still now, just standing there stuffing you full. That orgasm cleared your head a bit; you feel more centered than ever. And you feel a little bit bad for Chan, honestly. He’s gotten the least attention from you so far.

“I think Channie really wishes he was you two right now. What d’you think, peach?” you ask, directing the last part at Chan.

Chan doesn’t answer right away, which is just as well, because you can see his erection straining against his dark jeans. His eyes are fixed between your legs, where you can feel your own wetness inching obscenely out around Changbin’s cock.

“I asked you a question,” you say, louder, and Chan looks at your face instead of your pussy.

“I think I’ve been good, noona,” Chan says quietly.

“Let’s get a second opinion, hm?” you say.

You peel Changbin’s hands off your waist and scoot away from him, pulling yourself off his dick, and push Jisung away to give yourself some room. You settle beside Jisung, who sits back down against the mattress and leans on his elbows to look at the rest of you.

“But noonaaaa,” Changbin whines.

“You got some already,” you admonish. “Don’t be greedy.”

Changbin pouts at you, and you reach out and squish his cheeks in your hand. He just lets you do it, and you lean in and kiss his lips. He deserves it, and more.

“So. Consensus,” you say, “Has Channie been good?”

“Not as good as me,” Changbin mutters.

You laugh, and turn to Jisung expectantly for his answer.

“I think so,” Jisung says, “He listens to you much better than he listens to me.”

“How honest,” you say.

You turn and swing one leg over Jisung’s torso, only hesitating for a second as you factor in your body weight on top of his dainty little body and then deciding it doesn’t matter. You sit up straight, facing Jisung so that you can see his expression, trapping his bare cock between your folds, still kind of covered in your stretched and soaked panties, and his stomach.

“Oh, Jesus,” Jisung wheezes, throwing his head back.

“They’re really roasting you,” you say to Chan conversationally, as if you’re not torturing Jisung in the same moment.

“I’m used to it,” he replies, giving you a sheepish smile that shows his deep dimples.

His casual admission is strangely charming, and it makes you smile back. You grind down on Jisung just for a second, just to hear the noise that he makes. He doesn't disappoint, a whine coming up from his chest as his hands scrabble at the sheets. He doesn't touch you, even though you haven't said that he can't. The faultless obedience is thrilling.

"Are you ready for a little more?" you ask Jisung, nodding toward Changbin.

"A little?" Changbin protests.

You send him a wink, realizing the stupid joke. "Oh, come on, that wasn't a dig."

"Thin ice, noona," he mutters.

You raise an eyebrow at that. "Excuse me?"

"Biting the hand that feeds you, hyung," Jisung sing-songs, tilting his head up.

"Jisungie, you talk too much," you tease.

You shift over Jisung so that the head of his cock prods at your entrance. You're still wet and messy from all of their handiwork, and Jisung keens.

"We don't need him, do we?" you nod over your shoulder at Changbin.

"I mean, I was looking forward to the dicking, but - oh shit" Jisung moans, as you reach down and pull your panties aside properly, and let the very tip of him slip inside you.

"This isn't the plan," Changbin complains.

You smile at him sweetly. "I just don't want anyone to forget who's in charge here."

You climb off Jisung, leaving him whining in your wake, and move up to the spot at the head of the bed where you'd sat Chan earlier. The three boys watch as you settle cross-legged, casual as anything.

"I think," you say, resting your chin in your hand and your elbow on your knee, "I think that I just want to watch for a while."

All three of them, Changbin and Chan standing side by side and Jisung sitting half-upright, look at you with matching wide eyes. You tut, looking right back at them and silently making up your mind.

"Come here, peach," you say, making grabby hands at Chan.

He complies easily, coming back up the bed toward you, and you uncross your legs to make some room, patting the mattress in front of you. Chan pauses, kneeling between your open legs, and you turn him around gently by the shoulders. You sit him down with his back pressed to your chest. He's still fully dressed, even after everything that’s gone on, and his silky black shirt is cool and soft against your bare skin. His broad shoulders cover you entirely, but he melts against you, sliding down a little so that his head rests at the crook of your neck, curly black hair against your cheek.

"Jisungie, Binnie?" you say, "I want you to put on a good show for me while I give this poor baby boy some attention."

You let your hands wander to the top button on Chan's shirt. It's not the top button, really, because he's got the first three undone already to show a span of pale toned chest. So you unbutton the next one, and crawl your fingers down to the next, too.

"So I can," Changbin starts, "I can-"

"Yes," you nod, "But neither of you can cum until I say so. Okay?"

"Okay," says Jisung eagerly.

"You have to earn it," you warn, "A good show."

Jisung and Changbin look at each other, significantly, like they're silently concocting their own plan. You decide you can get a hand on that ball, too.

"Channie, wouldn't they be pretty if they kissed for us?" you ask, murmuring right into Chan's ear.

He nods eagerly, and you pop another shirt button. You glance down at Chan's torso, completely bare to you now, all pale smooth skin and chiseled abs. So you ease the silky shirt off his shoulders, down his arms, and discard it off the side of the bed.

By the time you look back up, Jisung has Changbin pinned to the bed, straddling his waist and kissing him right into the mattress.

"Oh," you say mildly, "Promising start, hm?"

You stroke up and down Chan's abs with your fingertips, and he laughs gently.

"They're always like this," he says.

"Thirsty?"

"Out of control," he corrects.

Jisung breaks away from Changbin's mouth, frowning at Chan. "You love it, you asshole. You're just as bad."

Chan nestles back into you more and doesn't say anything, but you can see an answering half-smile creeping over his face. Changbin takes advantage of the distraction to flip Jisung over onto his back, finally flexing the strength you know he has, and bends Jisung nearly in half. His knees are up by his shoulders, and his face is more than a little alarmed.

"Hey, I'm not that bendy!" Jisung protests.

"Yeah, you are," Changbin shushes, "Do you wanna cum or not?"

You grin. "Come on, then."

With a big upside-down sigh, Jisung looks at you, while Changbin digs around in the sheets for the lube.

"You see what I have to deal with?" Jisung asks you, "They're so good and nice for you, and for me? This disrespect. I don't even know - OH-"

Jisung cuts off, and it's obvious what's happening from the way Changbin's hands fly down to Jisung's hips and Jisung's back arches up to meet him. You hum your satisfaction, taking in the blissful expression on Changbin's face, and the sweat already beading at Jisung's hairline.

But you quickly realize that you can't see nearly well enough. They're laying up the bed properly, feet at the foot and Jisung's head against the mattress near yours and Chan's intertwined legs. But if they were perpendicular to you...

"Okay, gorgeous," you coo, and Changbin's head snaps up at the sound of the pet name, "Turn around on the bed so that I can see exactly how nice Jisungie fits around you."

It takes a second, but Changbin processes your words with a slow blink, and grabs Jisung's hips to unceremoniously turn them ninety degrees. Now they're laying across the bed widthwise, and you have a delightful view of Changbin's thick cock sinking into Jisung smoothly. He's set a brutal pace, snapping against Jisung's narrow hips with a force that makes you clench around nothing. He’s obviously making up for the painfully slow pace you made him take on you. It's quiet enough that all you can hear is the perverse squelch of lube and the tiny breathy sighs Jisung makes every time Changbin bottoms out.

"Jesus," Chan breathes, and you nearly jump out of your skin; despite the weight of him on you, you've all but forgotten about him while you're taking in the view in front of you.

"How do they look?" you ask him, reaching up to card your fingers through his hair.

"So good," Chan answers, "So - ah-"

You tug his curls gently, and Chan arches his neck back so that his head rests fully on your shoulder.

"Noona," Changbin says with an edge of desperation in his voice, pulling your attention back to him, "Noona, I'm not, I can't-"

"You gotta hold on for me, gorgeous," you coax.

Changbin nods, digging his fingers into Jisung's hips and making his poor boyfriend squeak at the added pressure. He sits back on his heels, pulling Jisung with him, so that he’s almost upright, giving you a delightful view of their bodies meeting. It makes you groan to yourself, waves of arousal peeling through your gut.

You reach down to undo Chan’s belt and jeans, and it only takes a moment to rid him of those, too. He’s ridiculously hard in his black boxers, and as you palm him through the fabric, you have to admit that he’s the biggest of the three of them.

“Who’s gonna cum first?” you ask Chan.

He drags his eyes away from the sight of Jisung’s arched back, the faint bruises forming under Changbin’s hands, and looks up at you.

“I don’t know,” he murmurs.

“I think Jisung’s earned it,” you decide, “Peach, you wanna give him a hand?”

“Not him,” Jisung gasps.

Chan looks affronted. “Hey!”

“Noona please,” Jisung begs. “Please!”

“Oh, you want me?” you ask, smirking.

Jisung nods, gasping and screwing his eyes shut as Changbin keeps up that punishing pace. You can have mercy on him, can’t you?

Chan leans forward so you can wiggle out from behind him, and you sit back on your heels beside Changbin and Jisung. The view is even better up close: Changbin’s muscles bunching and expanding, Jisung rocking up the bed with every thrust. Changbin’s gorgeous face furrowed in concentration. Jisung’s rim contracting obscenely around the cock still working in and out of him.

You feel delightfully gross, wonderfully perverse and voyeuristic, and you lean down to kiss Jisung. He kisses back like he’s starving, panting into your mouth.

“Pretty boy,” you say, right against his lips, “Do you want to cum?”

Jisung nods, his eyes barely focusing on you, the attention going right to his head. “Yes, noona!”

“What do you need to cum?” you ask him.

“Your…hand, noona, or your mouth, please,” Jisung whines.

You smile at him, leaning in for one more kiss. “You can cum when you’re ready, baby.”

“Yes, noona.”

One down, one to go. You shuffle so that you’re sitting face to face with Changbin and he all but falls forward to kiss you, his hips not even stuttering as they drive forward. His singular focus is impressive. You let Changbin press messy open-mouth kisses against your lips, your cheeks, as you finally wrap a hand around Jisung’s cock.

His whole body jumps when you start jerking him quickly. It only takes two, three, four pumps before Jisung is babbling, begging for your permission even though you’ve already given it.

“Noona, I’m going to – please let me cum, I need it, I need-”

“Go ahead, pretty baby, cum for me,” you say.

That’s all it takes for Jisung to come into your hand with a shout, loud and high-pitched and cracking in the middle. His voice is a rush of power, like adrenaline in your veins, and you keep up your pace, stroking him through his orgasm. You look to Changbin next, watching him as he throws his head back and moans openly at the feeling of Jisung coming around him. His eyes are wide open, still, and he finds your gaze as he finally begins to lose his pace. This is the second person’s orgasm he’s had to ride out, poor thing. It almost makes you want to keep going, see how long he can last…

“I-” he stutters, “I want…”

“Ask nicely,” you instruct.

“I want to cum, noona,” Changbin pleads.

“That doesn’t sound like asking nicely.”

Changbin makes a tiny sound of despair, and tries again, “Please, may I cum, noona? I’ve – God – I’ve been good, haven’t I? Please?”

He’s beautiful, begging so nicely for you. You bring up your hand that’s covered in Jisung’s cum and nudge the dirty fingers against his lips. Without hesitating, Changbin sucks two fingers into his mouth, his tongue working between the digits.

“Filthy,” you coo.

Changbin just whines around your fingers.

“Who are you cumming for, Binnie?” you ask, taking your hand back.

“You.”

“Hm?” you feign ignorance.

“You!”

“Who?”

“You, noona,” he moans.

“Okay, gorgeous, you can cum.”

“Thank you.”

With a final moan that sounds an awful lot like your name, Changbin cums, making Jisung whine out in his high, cracked little voice at the feeling of it. You lean back, just watching and enjoying, as they both come down.

Two down, one to go.

Chan is still waiting for you, though you wouldn’t doubt that he’s a little less patient than he was at the beginning of the session. He’s sitting back against the headboard again when you turn around, just watching you. You notice that he’s actually sitting on top of his hands, and you smile disdainfully at him.

“Oh, peach,” you say, “Are you so fucking desperate that you have to sit on your pretty little hands, to keep from disobeying me?”

“I’ve listened to you, noona,” Chan says.

“Is it so hard for you to be good?” you chide.

“It’s not!” he insists weakly.

“Shit, I think we could go again,” Jisung comments offhandedly, breaking your train of thought.

You look at him, suppressing your smile in favor of a cool stare. “Can you not let me deal with our sweet peach for two fucking minutes?”

“I’m just sayin’,” Jisung defends, holding up his hands in surrender. “Refractory period? Great.”

You decide to ignore Jisung and his big mouth. Chan deserves some undivided attention, and you planned right from the start that you’d have him like this.

Rolling your eyes in Jisung’s direction, you crawl over and take hold of Chan’s boxers, and pull them down his pale pretty legs and off. He looks distinctly shy when he’s finally fully naked for you, so you return the favor by slipping off your ruined panties. You can feel two sets of eyes on your ass as you maneuver yourself onto Chan’s lap.

You’re delighted to find that if you sit up perfectly straight, you’re taller than him. Tall enough that he has to tilt his head back to look at you. He’s all wide brown eyes and handsome flushed skin, and you stare down at him fondly.

“What do you want, peach?” you ask.

“You…” Chan trails.

You walk your hand up his shoulder, up into his hair, and tug at the back of his head. He tilts his chin up, leaning into the action, exposing his long beautiful neck to you. You can’t help it – you lean in and indulgently bite into the skin on the side of his throat.

“What about me?” you ask against his flesh.

You can feel Chan swallow. “I want…to fuck you, noona.”

“I know you can ask nicely.”

As you trail down and add another bite under the first, leaving your mark behind on his porcelain skin, Chan shows you just how well he can ask.

“Please, noona,” he breathes, “I can make you feel good, like Changbinnie, better than Changbinnie, wanna fuck you so good and fill-”

He cuts off with an embarrassed whimper, as if he’d almost let something slip. Unluckily for him, you have a pretty good idea what he was about to say.

“Oh, peach, you’re dirty,” you purr.

“I’m sorry, I-” Chan sputters, but you cut him off.

“No, no, no, no,” you shush him, “I like it.”

You lift yourself up slightly so that you can reach down and line him up with your pussy, and without preamble, you sink down on him. You know you’re still wet and sloppy from before, and Chan groans shamelessly as you settle your hips firmly against his.

“You can have me, but you’re doing all the work,” you inform him.

Apparently, that’s no problem for Chan, because he plants his feet on the mattress for leverage and begins pistoning upwards into you. You rise onto your knees slightly to meet him, making him work harder, rise higher to chase what he wants.

His pace is brutal, his hips moving precise and intense against yours, and you’re shocked to feel a second, penetrative orgasm rising on its own. You’re still so sensitive from cumming the first time, you know you’re not going to last very long. But Chan is having a similar problem.

“I’m not…I’m not going to last, noona, I’m-” Chan moans, sounding embarrassed by it.

You coo at him. His self-consciousness, even this far into a scene, is so endearing.

“Did you get all worked up watching Jisung and Changbin have their fun?” you ask, patronizing.

Chan nods, throwing his head all the way back as he chases his high, driving into you hard. “So good, noona, it was so good…”

You glance over your shoulder at the other two, the mention of them making you wonder what they’re up to, unattended over there, and you’re met with quite the scene.

“It seems like they’re enjoying us, too,” you say.

Chan brings his head forward again with what seems like a tremendous amount of effort, and peels his eyes open. When he sees his boyfriends behind you, his breakneck pace finally stutters.

“Fuck,” he groans, “Oh, Jesus Christ-”

Jisung is standing beside the bed, bracing himself against the wall like he’ll collapse if left only to his own strength. Which is valid, because Changbin is knelt between his legs, Jisung’s cock down his throat and Jisung’s hand on the back of his head, guiding him.

“They weren’t kidding about being ready another round,” you joke, and to your utter delight, Chan laughs.

“And I wasn’t kidding about – noona, fuck,” Chan whimpers, “I’m not – can I cum, noona?”

You hum. “You wanna fill me up, peach?”

Chan’s breath hitches at your words, and if it’s even possible, he begins fucking into you harder. He’s hitting you just right inside, cockhead brushing against that delicious spot and making stars dance in your vision. You can count on one hand how many times you’ve cum just from a partner like this, and you’re salivating at the idea of it. You’re so damn close.

“Yes,” he whines, “Noona please let me, I’ll make you feel so good, I promise, fill you up with my cum and – and-”

“You’ve waited long enough for me, peach,” you say, reaching up to cup his face in both of your hands, forcing him to meet your eyes. “Cum.”

On command, like the good boy he is, Chan cries out, high pitched and absolutely beautiful, and cums. And then, surprise of surprises, he snakes one hand down between the two of you and finds your clit, rubbing into the poor sore nerves like he might die if he doesn’t make you cum.

And you do. You can’t even choke down the squeak of “Chan, oh, fuck!” as you clamp down on him, pleasure bursting behind your eyelids like fireworks and warming you all the way down to your toes.

As your orgasm fades and the world comes back into focus around you, the first thing you see is Chan’s self-satisfied little smile. That smug bastard…

You grin back at him, pushing him away by the chest, “Shut up.”

Gingerly, you climb off his softening cock and off his lap entirely, to throw yourself down haphazardly on the bed. Chan collapses across you, landing heavy over your legs and making you protest for your poor ankles.

“I can confidently say, that was fantastic,” comes Chan’s muffled voice, facedown in the mattress as he is.

“Seconded,” says Jisung.

You tilt your head back to see Jisung and Changbin peering down at you, both looking heavy-eyed and swollen-lipped. They look as drained as you feel, and just as satisfied.

“That was a hell of a show, (Y/N)-noona,” Changbin says.

“Glad you liked it, I worked really hard,” you tease. “Does anyone need water? Food?”

“Cuddles,” mumbles Chan.

“Yeah, you have to stay the night, noona, aftercare and cuddling is non-negotiable,” Jisung agrees.

Changbin nods. “We’re even better at that than the sex.”

It shouldn’t be as touching as it is that they want you to stay. But fondness wells up in your chest, soft delight that they seem to enjoy your platonic company just as much as your sexual company. But this bed is disgusting. Changbin needs to wash his sheets, there’s no way you can sleep here in the miasma of lube and bodily fluids.

And besides, the four of you need to talk about all of this at some point. You’re still their classmate, after all, at least until the end of the semester, and an impromptu hookup like this can lead to some real awkward class meetings. Some pillow talk, some cuddles, and some Gatorade are all in order here.

So you smile, wide and honest and mischievous, and stand up on shaky legs to head for the bedroom door. The boys look confused at your seemingly sudden departure, and you cock a thumb at the other bedroom, across the hall.

“Now, Channie, where’s that pillow fort I heard so much about?”

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