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mythicamagic · 3 years

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Yang x MC Oneshot: The Red Crane

Summary: The Lao Shu mafia boss is looking for a certain woman- his woman- to be exact. (Not as AU as you might think) Yang x Liliana oneshot.

Rated M for smut

3,000 words

AN: Part of this was originally a rp between me and my friend LadyDiana2000, but I've reworked and extended it into a oneshot. As always you can read this on Ao3 or fanfiction.net via the same username.

Warning: Smut, and the usual themes found in Yang's route aka references to human trafficking.

The Red Crane

The State-Operated Casino in Burlone had been deemed 'neutral ground' for the three deadly mafia families constantly engaged in turf wars. The Falzones barely indulged there due to its leader's distaste, but it was frequently visited by the Visconti and Lao Shu alike, along with regular citizens.

Of course, due to its popularity, copycats popped up everywhere in different territories. Many tried to capture its feel and opulence, but few succeeded.

One such unsavoury copycat lurked in the innermost depths of Lao Shu territory, behind far too many back allies to ever be relevant; The White Crane.

A little tidbit the locals didn't know- or frankly didn't care about- was that its female staff had been provided through underhanded means. Human trafficking valued foreign girls highest, so it was only natural the casino house exotic looking women.

The gambling room was located underground in a transformed basement, drunk men observing the girls. Some were on a cramped stage as entertainment, others waitressing. This newest batch had arrived together, and after a few failed escape attempts and punishments- they'd been shaken enough to be potentially wonderful gifts or products to sell on.

Liliana had never intended to get mixed up with mafia men or human trafficking. One second she'd been enjoying Italy's fine streets, heading towards down an alley- the next…

She shuddered, wiping down a table. Rough hands had grabbed her, snatching her away. She seemed to have been a spur-of-the-moment kidnapping.

Escape proved futile from the seedy casino. Guards were posted outside, and though unsteady with too much liquor in their system, they always overpowered her.

Green eyes dimmed, hazed by the thick smog of cigar smoke.

She'd been fortunate enough to avoid the territory's overabundant drug use, but that could easily change.

I miss you, Elena, Sister Sophia. I hope the children are alright.

It felt like such a long amount of time had passed since she'd seen them- since she'd last glimpsed decent sunlight not smeared by grimy glass.

Glancing at a kiseru pipe held within an older gentleman's hand, she shook herself, continuing with the day's chores.

Have I been forgotten?

----

It's after hours and early in the morning when the owner unexpectedly asked the girls to stay. Usually they'd go to sleep after tidying up. He smiled, standing within the empty casino room. "The time has come for one of you to leave the nest, little songbirds."

The girls shifted anxiously, having sat down in a section of old chaises and lounges. "What does that mean?" one asked.

"Surely you've wondered why you were all brought in here at the same time? Staff are kept in rotation, you see. We need new faces every few months or so. It's just good business. Eventually all of you will be bought or gifted. In this case, one of you will be a gift to the Lao Shu mafia. I hear their leader is without a woman right now."

The door to the basement swung open soundlessly- a man leisurely wandering down white steps.

Liliana stiffened, becoming still as a statue.

"Ah- signore Yang. I didn't think you'd be here so early."

"Mn," a man wearing a fine green changshan ignored the owner, gaze half-lidded. He lowered himself into a seat facing the cluster of women, taking out an ornate pipe and lighting it. Long red hair spilt from broad shoulders- some strands having been tied into a sloppy braid. Liliana's fingers twitched, experiencing an urge to fix it.

"From the looks on their faces, I assume they know the situation," he drawled, flashing his teeth in a mockery of a smile, golden eyes icy cold. As the leader of the Chinese mafia based in Burlone, people knew his name, but he wasn't widely known to the public eye.

"That's the boss of the Lao Shu?" a girl, Victoria, leaned in close to Liliana.

"Yes- but I'm not sure why he'd come here himself," she whispered back, hands drawing into loose fists on her dusty skirts.

Yang watched them watch him, taking a drag from his pipe and exhaling a cloud of curling smoke. "There's not much atmosphere here tonight... give them alcohol if they want it, they look foolish sitting there empty-handed," he addressed the owner.

He nodded, "Chie, would you-"

"No," Yang cut in. "They're busy with me right now. You take their orders. Nothing too expensive, mind."

Miraculously, the owner nodded with the briefest flash of fear, clearly not wanting to displease him.

Some of the girls ordered, though Liliana declined softly, wanting her mind unclouded.

"We'd probably look less foolish if we knew what you wanted," she spoke up, thankful her voice didn't shake. "We were just told something about being 'gifted' a moment before you came in, sir."

"I see."

He'd been collected since the moment he'd walked in, but his eyes unexpectedly burned the second they locked onto her, stealing Liliana's breath. Twin hooks glinted- secured at his hip. "Well, the weaselly owner of this cesspool is going to gift one of you to me," he spoke in a rich cadence, lifting a shoulder lazily. "I'm sure he intends for me to pick at random but I'm not particularly interested in that. If you want to come with me, then speak up," he uttered, accepting a glass of red wine without acknowledging the owner.

"Get on with it, then," one of the more jaded women sneered.

Yang's eyes slide to her. He gazed silently, with such deep, cold apathy.

Like a hawk assessing prey, Liliana stilled. Those tiger-like, vibrant eyes slid shut as he smiled indulgently, "I'm going to tell you now, I cannot abide those who refuse to understand anything. For example...the position they're in," he shot the woman a deadly smirk.

He took a sip, tilting his head consideringly. "You could entertain my men and be passed around, or become my woman, and everything that encompasses."

The implication is startling. Mafia had prostitutes, but he was offering something usually reserved for girlfriends.

This grabbed the attention of many of the girls, though Liliana reddened and glanced away. "Is this a conscious choice?" Amira asks. "Do we say- Yes, I want to be your woman, and that's that? Or are there hurdles you expect us to jump through first, only to be prostituted?"

"No hurdles. That's that," he mimicked, lips curving sharply. "Mn... but it would be unfair not to warn you of my nature. I get bored easily," he drawled. "If you abandon any effort to think for yourself, if you tell me 'I don't know anything' or 'tell me everything'... I will assume your brain is mere decoration. You will become worth less than nothing to me."

"And if that happens, you won't let us go," Liliana murmured, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. She wondered how long this farce would last for, lips thinning.

Yang hummed, expression unreadable as he squinted. "You're skinny," he observed bluntly.

Heat abruptly burst to her cheeks, "I like to share my meals with other people if they ask for seconds!" she felt the need to defend.

"And you went hungry instead? What a soft mindset," he gave a mocking smirk as though unable to comprehend the notion. "I'll feed you, plenty."

The way he said it sounded strangely inappropriate, and she swiftly dropped her gaze, exhaling shakily. His aura was intense- attention feeling heavy. Her thighs pressed together.

Yang took another drag of his kiseru, seeming to enjoy himself. He suddenly noticed something, motioning to Lucrecia. "Woman. Come here a moment."

Lucrecia paled but dutifully stood, padding over with visible trepidation on her face. "Yes?"

His pipe lifted, propping up the ribbon on her shoulder, gazing at it. Golden eyes gleamed. "Are you Hui's plaything?"

She swallowed, stuttering. "I... I don't think so? I just attend to his drinks and food orders," she explained. "The ribbon is something he tied onto me- so that he could monopolise my time."

It wasn't the complete truth, Hui had propositioned her many times. Lili stiffened, gripped by something that heated her blood.

Yang hummed, drawing closer to invade her personal space. "That so?" he purred, voice dropping. "Because if you were Lee's woman, I'd take you just to piss him off," he flashed a sharp-toothed grin.

"Let her go," Liliana burst, standing from her seat. Silence filled the room immediately, her heart hammering loudly in her ribcage.

Ah...

Searing, half-lidded eyes pinned her in place, dragging sensually down her form. Sweat beaded on her brow.

"Are you going to wait around all night or will you finally voice your desire to come with me?" a silky chuckle caressed her hearing, Yang's amusement palpable.

Liliana bristled, biting her lip. Lucrecia's distressed features were enough to draw her forward. "I'm not interested in being your pawn, but yes. I would like to leave this place. Please stop toying with Lucrecia needlessly."

Releasing her friend without another word- a tattooed hand darted out.

Squeaking, Liliana felt herself be tugged down roughly. Prying her eyes open, she shifted on his lap, an iron grip holding her around the waist. Sturdy thighs cushioned her legs- his chest solid with muscle despite his tapered waist.

She opened her mouth to say more- before a mouth pressed to hers. He forced a deep, long kiss against startled lips- tongue brushing against hers, swallowing her muffled noises.

Blushing hotly, Lili tried to ignore their audience, pressing her palms against his chest and shoving to no avail. She couldn't help but return the kiss, stifling less than innocent noises.

Yang chuckled and nipped her bottom lip, scraping sharp teeth over soft flesh while pulling away. "Women usually pretend to be completely enamoured by me," he whispered playfully. "But your glaring eyes aren't unattractive."

"I'm sure you'll receive plenty of glares from me in due course," she panted, cheeks stained red. Green eyes flashed and narrowed, shakily wiping her mouth.

A slow, pleased smile curved his lips, directing his attention to the waiting owner. "I think this one will prove entertaining," he stood.

"Oh! I'm glad!" the man bowed. "Please accept this humble offering. We hope it demonstrates our loyalty to the Lao Shu."

"There's just one thing," Yang sighed with dismay, grasping the hilt of one of his weapons. He lifted it, resting the curve of the hook beneath Lili's chin, metal cool on her skin. Green eyes remained calm, gazing at him quietly.

Yang almost seemed to gentle- just for a moment- before continuing with a playful lift to his voice. "If you're so loyal to us- I assume you didn't mean to steal something that belonged to me."

"W-what?"

A disappointed look crossed Yang's cruel, handsome features. He tilted his head, earring catching the lamplight. "Now that is a pity. I half hoped you'd had the balls to do it on purpose. Never mind," his palm planted against Liliana's back- shoving.

"Wait outside."

Gaping, Liliana stumbled forward. Shooting the girls a worried look, she tried to convey her fear for them, fluttering her hand slightly.

Please get down. Duck for safety. Escape!

Some of them seemed confused, while others caught on, becoming tense.

Hitching blue skirts up and taking the stairs two at a time, Liliana hurried, flinching at a brilliant blaze of colour and light.

She glanced back just once- witnessing Yang swing his hooks down- cleaving through muscle, sinew and bone like butter. Women cried out with horror as the owner collapsed, choking on his own blood.

Fresh air caught in her throat, and Liliana breathed in greedily, lungs protesting as she kept moving.

Multiple swaths of pinks, purples and reds painted the skies, sunset a burning hue on the horizon beyond tiled roofs.

It felt so good to be above ground.

The second she'd managed to race out onto the streets- the guards caught wind of the horror downstairs, drawing their guns and descending into the basement.

Liliana steadied herself against a wall in an alley, hearing rapid gunfire.

Pressing a hand to her mouth, salty tears of relief and worry for her companions welled up. They slid down rosy cheeks, eyes squeezing shut.

She could've run. Seized the opportunity to flee due to the chaos downstairs. Return to the church.

But she knew he'd pursue her.

Hearing footsteps draw closer over cobbled ground, Liliana sobbed, vision blurry as she looked up. But...that wasn't quite the truth. A part of her didn't want to leave this person either.

Yang lowered his bloodied weapon off one shoulder, crimson staining his clothes. Not one injury marred him, as per the norm.

"T-the girls," she managed to choke out.

"It appears they made it out alive," he drawled uncaringly, stepping closer.

"You didn't have to play around like that," she hiccuped, glaring. "Pretending not to know me..."

"Since you're partly to blame for causing my boredom over the past few weeks, a little roleplaying isn't much punishment."

Lili opened her mouth to reply- only to feel hands grab her head, a mouth slanting over hers. The clang of metal bouncing against stone indicated he'd dropped his hook. Shuddering, Liliana pressed herself against him, gasping against his lips and feeling a fresh wave of tears overcome her.

Yang backed her into a wall, body caging her against it, drawing hungry lips down to her neck to place open-mouthed kisses there- biting down.

Jolting, Liliana mewled, gripping him tight. "Y-Yang," she wanted him closer, burying her face in his shoulder.

"I tore Veleno apart looking for you," he hissed in her ear, nipping it. "And some of the other territories. I wondered if the Falzones had finally stolen their precious maiden back- but no. The piss-poor, fucking White Crane 'casino' was holding you. It's precious, really."

Though he smiled jaggedly, Lili could feel his temper spike, coiling tense muscles tighter. His blood-lust hadn't been sated.

She endeavoured to sway it into a different kind of lust.

"I thought..." she mumbled, kissing his chin. "I thought you might've forgotten me."

His tongue ran over the shell of her ear, hands roaming. "Obviously getting kidnapped has hindered your intelligence. I don't let go of my things," he smirked. "Especially not a woman who can glare like a cat. Besides- you returned to me willingly, Lili," fingers marked with intricate tattoos glided over her hip. "You chose to be my woman in there. It's too late to pretend otherwise~"

Her shoulders dropped with relief. Stroking a hand through soft, brilliant red hair, she breathed in his spicy, masculine scent. Her hips bucked of their own accord, a sigh fell from her lips, feeling him grind against her in return.

"Yang-" she breathed, tugging at his hair as he sucked on her collarbone, hand worming between them. "Not here-" a noise escaped her throat, shuddering.

Tattooed fingers pressed and glided against her clit, hidden beneath layers of skirts.

Lifting herself from the haze of pleasure they elicited, Liliana pushed against his chest insistently. With a hiss, Yang ripped his hand away and grabbed her around the waist, retrieving his weapon before leaving the alley.

They didn't make it to the Lao Shu base.

Stumbling as far as the dimly lit docks, Yang tugged her beneath the harsh shade of a boardwalk. The tide was out, allowing Liliana to fall back, cushioned by cool sands.

He gripped her stockings and yanked- ripping a large seam over her sex to allow access. Liliana opened her arms- cradling him close as Yang sank inside her without fanfare or preparation. Lili gasped, wet enough- but needing to adjust to his size once more.

"Did anyone else touch you?" he breathed, eyes half-lidded yet blazing with liquid heat.

"No- no one."

"Good," their breaths intermingled. "Otherwise I'd regret killing them so quickly."

He tugged her dress down just enough to expose a breast, firm grip squeezing it roughly. The way Yang's pupils dilated with every shaky moan she gave made her want to drown him in screams. Liliana clutched at broad shoulders in a death grip as he began moving, rolling lean hips with quick, hard movements.

She hitched her leg, throwing it over his waist- back arching as nails scraped her thigh. His free hand settled at the base of her throat, squeezing slightly.

"I think you owe me an apology," he purred.

"Pardon?- ah!"

Yang gave a rough thrust- cock hitting a spot deep inside that had her choking on a gasp while he simultaneously gave another squeeze. "You know why."

Blunt teeth grit, breath wheezing as he controlled her oxygen flow, cunt clenching hard around him in response. "I'm...sorry, for leaving Lan and Fei," she panted. "I just wanted to quickly check on Luca in town- gn!"

She keened loudly as his other hand played with her sensitive nipple, and threw her head back as Yang began to kiss down her jaw.

"That's a good girl," cold fire brightened his gaze. "Apology- hah- accepted. You were probably sharing food again, hm? That's just like you."

He kissed her hard, using his grip to keep her in place as she shivered with a broken moan. He tasted sweet, rich and decadent and she needed more, opening her mouth just enough for him to force his tongue in.

Yang moved more fluidly, hips undulating against hers with deep, deliberate thrusts. Lili marvelled at his frankly dishevelled look. They never broke eye-contact, bodies plastered together as they made harsh marks into the sand.

They both breathed heavily, the air between them hazy. Lili felt herself getting close, squeezing around him like a vice.

"Liliana," Yang caressed the syllables of her name like a hushed, sinful word. He knew it affected her, and wielded it like any other weapon. "Grip me harder, Liliana. Don't you want me to feel it when you experience rapture?"

Whining, she found purchase on the nape of his neck- digging blunt nails in and dragging them down, feeling him gasp, hips spasming- knocking her own release out of her like a thunderclap.

"Yang!"

He grunted, choking on a dark laugh as he came, releasing inside her. He abandoned her neck in favour of gripping blonde hair- tugging it to yank her head back- a bruising kiss pressing against rosy, open lips.

"Never a dull moment, hm?" Yang chuckled breathlessly, eyes dancing.

Laying in a daze, Liliana could barely formulate words, feeling him pool inside her- their combined juices leaking down her thighs as he pulled out. She knew she'd just traded one cage for another. That this person- this murderer- was just as dark and terrible as the men who had kidnapped her.

And yet, whether it existed or not- Lili imagined she could see it. A fondness in his cruel gaze. She wanted to be kept by him. It didn't make logical sense, but she felt it didn't need to. Yang was a being of impulse, instinct and indulgence. The more he touched her, the more Liliana sank down into the depths of where he resided.

Red cheeks flushed a darker shade of rouge. God forgive me, but I think I'm in danger of loving this awful man.

With a sharp grin, Yang abruptly flipped her over onto her hands and knees, ripping skirts aside and raising her ass- entering her from behind.

"Ah-! A-again? So soon?" she squeaked, moaning.

"What are you talking about? Playtime usually runs into a few sessions," a velvety chuckle resounded in her ear. "Now spread yourself wide, Lili. I want to feel your lungs compress as I hammer into you from behind. That sounds entertaining, doesn't it?"

Lili squeezed her eyes shut, heart thudding wildly. Trembling knees shifted in the sand, dragging apart.

Yes, it does.

#Piofiore no Banshou #yang piofiore #piofiore fated memories #Piofiore #piofiore fanfiction #yang

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jinxedpanda4life · 3 years

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DamiRae Hospital AU?

No I am not writing one, if I could write well I would though! So here are some HCs for a hospital AU. If someone decides to write this then I’ll be your first reader. Also I am sort of basing things off of Grey’s Anatomy just a bit and my limited knowledge of the medical field.

- Starts of as 1st year residents, specialties may vary

- The “Titans” are residents and 1st years that show great promise, this doesn’t really play a role its just what people call them behind their backs

- Dr. Kori Anders is a OBGYN (women parts and birth) resident, a year or two away from finishing

- Dr. Richard “Dick” Grayson is is a surgery resident, trained by the hospital owner Bruce Wayne (who is a world renowned surgeon, has awards, etc), specifically general surgery

- Dr. Garfield Logan is pediatrician (kid doctor) res, bonds well with kids, but is considering going back to school to become a vet instead

- Dr. Jaime Reyes is an oncology (cancer doctor), having had cancer as a teen and is now forever trying to rid the world of it, works mostly with kids and teens

- Dr. Jonathan Kent is a physical therapist that works with pain management. Up beat guy and is always trying to brighten his patient’s lives.

- Dr. Damian Wayne is a surgical intern, blood thirsty little thing, hoping to become a neurosurgeon (brain, spine) (or cardiothoracic (heart, lungs) both are competitive)

- Dr. Raven Roth is an anesthesiologist (the drug person that knocks you out) and is starting her surgical internship (she wanted to do more than just help people get high essentially or whatever) has no current preference for any specific surgical field

- Add in characters:

-- Dr. Jason Todd, trauma surgeon (fits too well)

-- Dr. Timothy Drake diagnostician (medical detective basically)

-- Dr. Donna Troy gynecologist

-- Terra Markov is a nurse (i don’t like Terra but nurses are the actual best)

- Story stuff:

- Damian and Raven meet as they are put under the guidance of the same resident

-Damian has an automatic dislike for Raven because she knows everyone already and is equally, if not much more, knowledgable about surgery, the OR, the ER, protocol, etc He also thinks she is cold because she rarely shows emotion (pot kettle Damian)

- Raven can always be found in the medical archives researching old cases and studying new ones, Damian stumbles upon her when looking for an old cardiomegaly case (enlarged heart).

- Raven gets along with all of the past ‘Robins’ making her a go to intern

- Garfield can be seen whenever he is not needed trying to flirt with Nurse Markov and often goes to Raven to sulk

- Damian and Raven are always early to pre-rounds and are typically the first ones there (usually early in the morning, getting there before 500)

- Jon bumps into Damian more often than not and they start becoming friends (Damian is reluctant at first and is still you know Damian about everything), Damian even recommends patients to him

- Though Damian doesn’t want to really ‘hang out’ with anyone he reluctantly hangs out with the Titans, because of Jon and Dick

- When in a large group when at a bar, club or whatever Damian tends to stay close to Raven because 1) they actually have things to talk about 2) she isn’t loud

- Raven & Damian are both assigned to a case that is frankly befuddling and have to start spending long nights and early mornings together to figure it out

- Over that period of time they learn things about each other:

-- Raven learns:

Damian has a dog (Titus) and cat (Alfred)

He is single (Kori told her) and lives in an apartment close to the hospital

He has lived in various countries

He is trained in multiple martial arts

He prefers his tea with brown sugar and a slice of lemon

His eyes are a true emerald color with a ring of gold and flecks scattered within

He may hide it well but when Raven compliments him he becomes flustered

He speaks to himself in Arabic when he curses, trying to remember something, doesn’t want anyone to know what he is saying

He isn’t always an asshole

When he actually smiles a true and genuine smile, she has heart palpitations

-- Damian learns:

Raven has two tattoos (neither are a bird), a gang tat (she is saving up to get it removed), and a mantra in Azarathian; Azarath Metrion Zinthos

She immigrated from Azarath when she was around 8

Her notes are in Azarathian

She actually feels a lot of emotion and knows how to control them

If she is not reading about a current or past case she is reading any book or file she can get her hands on, he has caught her reading in multiple different languages; Azarathian, English, French, Russian, Arabic, Dutch, Mandarin, (could be more or less)

She lives alone and has a cat, Nevermore, and thanks to Dick he already knew she was single

She likes all tea, no matter how prepared, but prefers the sweetener to be honey

Her hair is black but shines purple, especially under the ER lights

Her eyes are a purple that at first glance look blue, like Elizabeth Taylor, he realizes though her eyes are galaxies on their own

When she smiles the world actually stops moving, her eyes shine like stars and he never wants the world to start moving again

She always wears a necklace with a gold and ruby ring at all times (it was her mother’s wedding ring)

- When Damian starts having le feelings for Raven he considers actually seeking medical advice as this has never happened to him before

- Raven tries her best to contain her feelings when at work, going so far as one day a month staying home just to scream, cry and feel her feelings

- It does not help that new feelings towards Damian start popping up, especially since he starts bringing her tea and hanging out with her at work

- During the middle of their 2nd year of residency someone holds Raven hostage in the hospital to fix someone that person loves (this person had connections to Trigon and knew who Raven was)

- That was not a fun time for either Damian or Raven; Damian was outside the hospital pacing trying to figure something out with the other Titans trying to calm themselves and him down

- Shots are fired and when all is said and done, Raven gets shot in the abdomen and the hand (she was in ICU for a hot sec)

- Damian seemed to be there every time Raven woke up, he was always checking on her during rounds even though he wasn’t on her case

- Raven did have to have surgery on her hand and in her abdomen (idk where i’m not getting that specific), she hated being, in her words, coddled

- Even though Raven was right handed (the one that got shot) she learned how to do everything, writing, eating, going to the bathroom, etc. (many of the other residents are impressed since she keeps working on it after her other hand heals)

- Raven’s room also becomes a space for other residents to destress and just vent about their day. She listens and gives advice, all without looking up from whatever she was doing.

- During this time Raven becomes hooked on Pretty Pretty Pegasus

- Raven’s room is also full of cards, flowers, etc all from fellow staff and some from patients. When she leaves (she spends a couple weeks in thanks to multiple surgeries, recovery, and other minor injuries) all of the gifts litter her apartment, the cards end up in a box by her desk, she presses the flowers, and stuffed animals are donated to children’s shelter (she keeps some that she has grown attached to)

- During this time Damian is more of an ass than usual (people notice and tease him)

- Damian at some points keeps working without breaks/sleep for hours on end. Dick pulls him aside after noticing, scolds and forces him to sleep in one of the on call rooms. (He really wanted him to go home, but Damian wasn’t leaving)

- Once Raven was discharged Damian and Garfield help her back home (clothes + gifts + Raven w/a healing hand/other injuries = need help) the other Titans would have helped but were needed at the hospital

- Garfield leaves after dropping off Raven and Damian (and her stuff) as he is called in on a Peds case (could be fake, may not be) and Raven & Damian spend the rest of the time basically watching terrible movies. (with Nevermore sitting on both of them)

- That is the night Damian realizes that not only does he like Raven, but he like likes her. He starts devising plans on how to get her to date him.

- All his plans basically are thrown out the window because of one reason or another (he kept overthinking it)(poor guy)

- It is not until their 3rd year of residency that Raven realizes her feelings towards Damian (Have I made it clear she likes him? I can’t remember...)

- She realizes her feelings when she has to crash at his place for a night (because he lives ridiculously close to the hospital, like how expensive is that??) and he tries to make sure that she is as comfortable as possible

- She never realized how much he cared for her? Like she was always helping him out and there for him but she never realized he reciprocated that care? *Shocker*

- Raven becomes kind of a mess because of all her emotions that she is trying to bottle up. (all the corks are disintegrating and the jar is overflowing)

- Raven is during her Ortho rotation (bone surgeon people, they are cool, ik from experience) that she actually gets a good release for her emotions (setting peoples bones and drilling and hammering in pins is actually therapeutic)

- Raven thinks that may be the specialty she chooses

- Damian saw her as a mess and could not fathom why she was said mess, he figured it was about a romantic interest after someone made an offhand comment about her love life and she became a blubbering mess (very un-Raven like)

- After all of well *motions with hands* that Raven asks why Damian doesn’t have a s/o or someone

- He says there is only person that he has been meaning to ask out (looks pointedly at Raven)

- All Raven says is “Go for it.”

And that is where my HCs end. Now if anyone who happens upon this post decides to write a Medical AU with any of these please tag me, tell me, message me.

You do not have to give me credit, I just want to read it.

This took me a couple of days to write up, so if it is disjointed I apologize.

If anything needs to be corrected for any reason let me know!

I hope this fuels some imaginations!

-I may post more HC AU things if they come to mind, we will have to see.

#damirae #damian x raven #demonbirds #teen titans #raven #damian wayne #rachel roth #headcanon #medical au #au

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zigtheeortega · 3 years

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thieves in the shadows

part one | read on ao3

pairing | mal x mc [but other pairings could be implied]

word count | 6.5k

warnings | this is a crime au, so there are quite a few warnings. violence, blood, knives, guns, police, criticisms of religion etc. my mc is a detective in this series.

tags | @raleighcarrera, @pixeljazzy, @natesewell, @choicesarehard, @jaxmatsuo, @pantcmime

author’s note | so for the last day of blades week, the lovely @pixelsandkink hosted a sleepover and one of the questions were “what type of au’s would you like to see?” and the idea of a crime au wormed its way into my brain and i haven’t been able to stop thinking about it! i tried to get the whole story done by epilogue day for @bladesappreciationweek but i only managed part one, so more’s to come – i really hope you like it !!! disclaimer: i had to make the names a bit more realistic since they’re human in this au, so tyril is ty, imtura is immy, and my mc zilyana is yana. another disclaimer: people hc imtura as black so she’s written as such in this fic!

•─────────────────•

bullets pelted the crates they were crouched behind, wood splintering in every direction. bodies were strewn across the warehouse, the unmistakable pools of blood streaking across the stone.

“raine! to your left!” immy yelled her way, barely sparing her a glance before unloading her clip, shell casings clinking against the ground.

the gun trembled in yana’s hands. she’d shot one before – practice at the gun range, glass bottles in a back alley – but never a live target.

before she could edge around the shield of crates to take her aim, the cold steel of the blade dug into the skin at the base of her throat.

“well, well,” the voice said. “you seem to be in a bit of a bind, detective nightbloom.”

––––

when she first got assigned to the case, she didn’t want anything to do with it. she was minding her business, just coming off of the high of the egovore case – she’d busted a druglord selling hallucinogenic laced opiates that’d killed a handful of teens in the area.

she turned the new case down initially, citing she needed a break, but in reality… she didn’t care to go undercover again. she’d been asked to do things she never wanted to do, like flirt with vicious criminals who could snap her in half without an ounce of remorse.

don’t get it twisted – she was meant to be a detective. it was in her blood.

but the things she was asked to do took a bit of a toll on her and she needed time to recuperate. she was exhausted, and quite frankly, wanted to be yana nightbloom for a couple of weeks before jumping into another identity.

however, when mayor valleros showed up to the station requesting to speak to her privately, she knew there was no getting out of it.

that night she curled up in bed, reviewing the sensitive case files as well as her new identity, hoping that she could wrap it up in a couple of months.

––––

the taxi dropped her off at the seedy motel on the outskirts of the city, just a couple blocks away from the auto shop.

she suited up in an outfit that “raine” would wear, tucking her gun into her belt, before making the trek.

the sun was low behind the old buildings, most of the strip abandoned or looted, graffiti covering nearly every inch of wall space. tents were scattered in empty lots, a handful of homeless people pushing their carts towards the tents as the last slivers of light dissipated.

all she knew about the area was that a man popped up a couple months prior, bought almost every plot, and set up shop.

he clearly bought the dying businesses so they would stay out of his way.

she’d memorized every inch of her file, committing her persona to memory as well as any details about this crew, which were surprisingly next to none.

mayor valleros couldn’t prove it, but he had a sneaking suspicion that the string of robberies targeting big businesses and millionaires was somehow connected to this rinky dink shop.

the garage was halfway open, the light coming from it trickling out onto the street. the trunk of an old convertible poked out, and she could hear the bass line of a soft rock song the closer she got.

the file she’d received was nearly bare – she was walking into the situation blind. from her knowledge, they were always open to recruits, but they turned away quite a lot of people. they had a serious vetting process and didn’t trust just anyone.

she probably had little to no chance of getting in, but she was gonna do her damnedest to earn their trust.

when she approached the car, she took a slow cautious step inside, hand firmly on hip, ready to pull her gun out at a moment's notice.

a quick cock of a handgun pulled her attention south.

the man rolled to a stop from underneath the car, flat on his back against the scooter, brow quirked, the barrel of his gun pointed up at her.

“and who might you be?”

“i could be asking you the same thing,” she said, hand still on her hip.

“toss the gun over.”

she sighed, tugging it out from her waistband, squatting slowly to place it on the ground, skitting it towards him. she stood up slowly, hands in front of her in surrender.

he snatched the gun, before pushing himself up till he was standing. he slid her gun into his waistband with one hand, keeping his other trained on her.

“gimme the blade in your boot, too.”

she tried keeping her composure – she always kept a pocket knife on her but she nearly forgot it was there. how the hell did he know?

“fuck me,” she cursed under her breath. “if you insist,” he grinned, then motioned his hand towards himself.

she dug it out of her shoe, tossing it over. “how could you tell?”

“lucky guess. didn’t really know if you had one,” he shrugged, pocketing the blade.

they stood in silence, sizing each other up. his eyes raked over her body, lingering on places she was glad she had covered in baggy clothing.

“so, you gonna tell me your name?”

“no.”

“have it your way, rando. you’re not getting past this garage unless you give me something. doesn’t bother me a bit.”

“you clearly seem bothered,” she muttered, shifting her weight to her other foot.

she probably shouldn’t have been so bold, but if he wanted to shoot her, he would’ve done it already.

“nope. i don’t have shit to do. i could do this all day,” he raised a single brow, the one with a slit shaved into it.

“raine,” she said, the one syllable begrudgingly making it past her lips.

“now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he cocked his head to the side.

“you’re not that smart if you think that’s anything more than my street name.”

“street name? what are you, a fed?” He laughed, motioning the barrel of the gun upwards. “show me your waist and back.” “didn’t know ty hired perverts as door greeters,” she rolled her eyes, tugging her shirt upwards, slowly rotating to show off her stomach and lower back, proving she wasn’t wearing a wire.

his brows furrowed as a loud, booming cackle sounded from the doorway.

“you’re just gonna let her talk to you like that, mal?” the tall woman laughed, crossing her arms when she came into view.

“why’d you just say my name like that? i had a whole thing going,” he all but groaned, running a hand over his face.

“eh, who gives a shit. not like she’s in a position to do much, anyway,” she shrugged, her biceps flexing with the motion. “plus, she clearly knows who ty is. she didn’t just waltz in here – armed, might i add – for nothing.”

“who sent you, raine?”

yana shook her head, already slipping into the new, abrasive personality, scrunching her face up in disgust. “i’m not telling you two bozos shit. bring me to ty.”

the woman closed the gap between them in a couple steps, towering over her. she was easily six foot (even taller if you counted the locs piled atop her head), tattoos riddling every exposed inch of her body, her menacing grin gleaming in the dim light. her hands fisted the fabric at yana’s neck, tugging her just high enough that the tips of her shoes brushed the concrete.

she leaned in, quirking a pierced brow. “bozos?”

yana’s resolve was weakening with every second she was dangled by the tall woman. mustering up the last bit of her strength, she furrowed her brows and looked her dead in the eye.

“yeah. you heard me. bozos.”

the woman howled with laughter, and set her down, tousling her hair. “i like this one. she’s fiery.”

“of course you would. you like ‘em when they talk back,” mal chuckled, lowering the barrel.

she sucked her teeth, shrugging. “the harder to tame, the better.”

“i’m not here for either of you.”

“raine, was it?” she ignored the dig, holding her hand out to yana instead. “immy. i’m kind of the brawn around here if you haven’t noticed.”

immy jabbed her thumb at mal, smirking. “he’s not the brains of the operation. don’t worry about that.”

“hey!” he said, holstering his gun. “you’re really gonna disrespect me like that in front of some rando?”

“damn right i will. right this way, raine,” immy said, offering her arm. yana eyed it, forcing a grimace.

“i highly suggest you take my arm so i don’t have to restrain you.”

yana laced her arm through immy’s, her taut muscle telling her everything she needed to know – she could not fight her way out of this one.

they weaved through the shop, making their way down a dim hallway towards a back room. the decor was modest, much like a bar you’d see on the edge of town where the patrons are always the same and everyone minds their business.

mal walked in front of them, approaching the big wooden door, rapping his knuckles on it a few times.

she was so wrapped in the adrenaline rush of it all that she hadn’t really noticed quite how attractive mal was. she’d dealt with attractive criminals before, but none that were as infuriating and arrogant as him. most of them minded their business and didn’t let those feelings surface, even if it was in a joking manner.

she guessed she was staring a bit too long – when she met his eyes, he winked.

“ayo, someone’s here to see you,” he yelled, leaning his hip against the door frame with a smirk.

“come in.”

“wow, bossman didn’t even hesitate,” immy said, seemingly impressed.

“maybe he knew she was coming,” mal mused before pushing the door open.

the room was large, the bookshelves lining the walls filled left to right, top to bottom with books. the black leather couches looked straight out of a casting call room, much to her distaste.

his desk was massive, seemingly a bit out of place with the rest of the more toned down decorations – long, polished mahogany with intricate carvings up and down the sides.

his posture was perfect, his fingers laced in a neutral pose. as they approached the seats facing his desk, he pushed his book to the side, slipping his glasses off and placing them on top of the cover.

“i’m assuming someone sent you,” he stated, rather than asked, expression unreadable.

“no one sent me. i don’t have a crew,” yana answered, trying to keep as calm as him.

“someone must have told you about our operation.”

“well, you’re not infamous by any means, but people are definitely talking,” she shrugged.

he stood, taking slow steps until he was at the front of the desk. he glanced at immy, then the chair, and before yana knew it, she was shoved down into a sitting position.

she tried to remain nonchalant as he leaned against the edge of the desk, arms neatly folded.

“so what do you think you know about us?” he asked with a small smile, bright blue eyes piercing.

“i know you’re ty, the head of the group. i don’t know much else,” she was being completely truthful with him, glad to drop the facade (albeit briefly).

he nodded. “that’s good. we want as little information out there as possible.”

he leaned down, long strands of hair falling in front of his shoulders, holding her gaze.

yana wasn’t one to squirm under pressure, but the way he was looking right through her, as if he was browsing the core of her being, she couldn’t help but ball her hands into fists to stop them from trembling.

“what’s your name?”

“raine,” she murmured, struggling to keep her face neutral.

his eyes subtly flitted around her face, probably trying to pick up on her microexpressions – she’d been trained in the art of facial expressions and lying, so she was thankful in that moment that she’d actually paid attention to the presentations.

he leaned back, looking at mal and immy. “she’s trustworthy.”

just like that? she kept her breathing even, trying not to visibly relax. she expected it’d be a bit harder than that.

“so, raine. what exactly do you want to do here?” he asked, walking around the desk to sit back in his seat.

“last time i worked with a crew, they cheated me out of most of my cut.”

ty nodded, eyes focusing in on her face again.

“i’m not here to make friends. i just want to make enough money to stay afloat,” she said bluntly, letting a bit of the truth shine through again.

he nodded again, putting his glasses back on, flipping through the book.

“we all pull our own weight here. we’re all expected to defend ourselves in any situation we’re in,” he said, voice low, scrawling notes in the margins of the book.

“can you shoot a gun?”

“yes.”

“can you wield a knife?”

“yes.”

“hand to hand combat?”

“yes.”

most of the training was because of the academy, but she’d been a scrappy teen – she’d got into plenty of fights and had always been able to hold her own.

mal plopped onto the seat next to her, leg strewn across the armrest, popping a stick of gum in his mouth. “she’s gonna need a little bit of training. immy and i got her.”

ty arched a brow at mal, seemingly in slight annoyance. “training?”

“oh yeah, she strolled in here with a gun and a knife and i took her out before she could cock it,” he laughed, shooting a wink her way.

immy laughed, too, but ty wasn’t nearly as amused. “she’ll need to be at Mal’s skill level at least by our next phase.”

“‘mal’s skill level’? what the hell does that mean?” mal asked, sitting up straight.

immy’s soft chuckles morphed into her friendly booming cackle that yana had been introduced to a couple minutes before.

“you’re clearly weaker than immy. no one’s touching her,” ty said simply, delving back into his work.

mal sighed, standing. “cut me some slack, boss. not my fault she’s taller and buffer than me.”

“yes, you should blame genetics.”

yana found herself rolling her lips together, failing to back a smile. ty caught her eye and the corner of his mouth quirked up.

for just a second, she felt comfortable with them, but she had to bury that thought and keep at the task at hand.

they were criminals, this was an investigation. no attachment, no complications.

“when nia gets here, ask her to go shopping for raine,” ty said, then resumed his work.

“you got it, boss,” immy said, pulling yana to her feet, leading her to the bookcase across the room.

she pulled a book back, revealing a keypad. she typed a long string of numbers and popped her thumb on the screen at the bottom, stepping back so that the bookcase could shift. a set of stairs appeared, leading downwards, most likely towards a basement of some sort.

“are you guys gonna kidnap me or something?”

immy grinned. “nope. all the good stuff is down here.”

the concrete staircase led to a long hallway, multiple doors on either side. “your room is the last one on the left, right after the gym.”

“gym?” “yeah, you think i could upkeep these guns without a routine?” immy joked, walking with her to the end of the hallway.

her room was surprisingly big. king sized bed, walk in closet, huge bathroom with a separate shower and tub – it was larger than her apartment.

“i’ll leave you to it,” she said, pointing towards the dresser against the wall. “there’s some spare clothes in there.”

and then she was alone.

the shower she took was quick – she even stuck a chair under the door handle just in case. she didn’t trust anyone here enough to take a long shower.

she tossed on the clothes, wrapping her long dark hair up in a towel. right about then she’d wished she’d planned things out a bit better. all of her case materials were back at the motel, and she desperately wanted to update the case files with what she’d learned.

ty, mal, immy, nia. ty, mal, immy, nia. she committed the names to memory, and the appearances of the former three, too.

a knock at the door took her out of her train of thought.

she answered it, surprised to see mal standing there in a loose fitting floral top, way different than the hoodie he’d worn when she first met him.

“here,” he said, handing her the gun and blade. “forgot to return these in the excitement of it all.”

“thanks,” she said, turning to put both on the side table near the door, leaving mal standing there.

“you gonna invite me in?” he asked, leaning against the door frame.

she shrugged, feigning nonchalance as he strode in, plopping on the edge of her bed, legs sprawled wide while he leaned back on his elbows.

“so… raine. ready for training?”

“yep.”

“not talking much? understandable. i should probably introduce myself, though. properly.”

she eyed him, crossing her arms.

“i’m mal. i own all of this,” he said, gesturing around him. “volari’s the last name. well, the last name i picked.”

she nodded, knowing that she couldn’t reveal any personal information unless directly asked, trying to calculate out how to skirt around questions without being suspicious.

“the shop’s a front. kind of our homebase, ya know?” he popped his gum, gaze flitting up and down from her loose fitting clothes to her face.

“why are you looking at me like that?”

“just trying to figure you out, raine,” he emphasized her fake name, a knowing grin spreading.

yana rolled her eyes, crossing the room to the mirror, tugging the towel off her hair. “there’s nothing to figure out.”

“yeah, sure,” he said, sarcasm lacing his tone. “meet me in the gym tomorrow at 5 a.m.”

“that’s super early,” she said, watching him through the mirror as she raked her damp hair into a bun.

“we’ve gotta fit in your first training before we open shop,” mal winked, standing up from the bed.

“oh.”

“‘night,” he said, giving a lazy salute, before tugging the door shut with the toe of his shoe, leaving her standing alone.

––––

she barely slept that night, unable to stop the unending rolodex of details flitting through her mind.

names, height, build, tattoos, notable scars, voice – anything that she’d recognize regardless of a bad dye job or style change.

she gave up after a while, getting up when the clock said 3 a.m. slipping her blade into her waistband, she headed to the gym, hoping that she could cardio her way into a short nap.

the gym was immaculate – top notch equipment neatly lined the walls with more than enough space throughout for a group of five.

after scanning the room, she opted for a treadmill, deciding that sprints were the best way to tire out both her body and mind.

each pump of her legs was more painful than the last, the aching burn flickering up her legs with every slam of her shoe against the belt.

keep going, keep going, keep going.

yana didn’t give up. never was a quitter, never would be a quitter.

sweat beaded across her back and forehead, her breathing in tandem with her strides.

when she crossed the mile line, she slowed her pace, opting for a light jog for as long as she could handle it (another mile or two).

the sound of a singular shoe squeaking had her grasping for her knife, ready to point it at the intruder. But before she could get a grip on it, another hand snatched it from her waistband, flicking the blade out, training the tip at the base of her neck.

mal grinned at her. “not bad.”

she panted, flyaway hairs sticking to every slick patch of skin. he used the tip of the blade to delicately flick a strand off her shoulder.

“reflexes could be a bit faster, though.”

he lowered the knife, tossing her a cool towel instead.

“it’s 3 a.m. and i wasn’t expecting anyone,” she grumbled, dragging the towel down her face to sop up the sweat.

“correction: it’s 4 a.m. and you should always expect the worst.”

“why are you here so early then?” she snapped, flinging the towel over her shoulder in exasperation.

“same reason you’re here. can’t sleep,” he shrugged, before reaching behind him to tug off his white tee.

she finally got a full look at him and she wasn’t disappointed.

tanned, muscled torso, riddled with scars and tattoos alike, peppered with hair all across his front. It was really fucking hard not to stare.

she averted her eyes as he did a couple warm up stretches, leaning and stretching and looking oh so gorgeous while he did it.

his right arm was covered, a full sleeve from shoulder to wrist. the other arm was a half sleeve, his forearm bare except for a small tattoo with daggers and blood drops.

she’d noticed his gold earrings when she’d met him, since it was one of the flashiest things about him.

but the singular nipple ring? that was new. and definitely something she didn’t think would stir something in her.

she strode across the gym, trying to put some distance between them, grabbing the small weights. yana squatted and lifted and squatted and lifted but nothing she did could distract her from the soft grunts coming from mal across the room.

he was on a fucking pull up bar, tugging himself upward, hair tied back, sweat beading on his brow.

one of the biggest undercover no-no’s was getting involved with anyone while on the case. Even if they’re surrounding the case – not even a main target – it was all but forbidden.

unless… it was for intel.

get a fucking grip, dude. she shook the thought away, all but spraying herself with a hose at the thought.

“it’s about that time,” he said, a while later.

she pushed through her last few crunches, shaking off the burn as she stood up.

“i fail to see why i need to be trained. i don’t even know what we’ll be doing,” she said nonchalantly, stretching her arms.

the easiest way for her to get intel was to pretend like she didn’t care. It worked with most male egos she came across – the second she acted like she’d rather be anywhere else, the man would all but spell out his diabolical plans with a diagram and a play-by-play.

“i think you’ll at least need to know how to defend yourself. never know what situations we’ll get into,” he said, vaguely, scrubbing his own towel across his chest and torso.

unfortunately, that told her nothing.

“alright, so first thing’s first, we’ll need to roll out these mats –”

immy slammed the door open, cutting off mal’s first order.

“nia brought the grub! get in here before i eat it all,” immy said, throwing a knowing look at yana.

she looked to mal, waiting for his direction.

“go ahead. i’m gonna finish up my workout. save me a plate, alright?” he asked, striding towards the weights.

yana slipped past her and into the hallway without a second glance, trying to look anywhere but the sly grin that stretched immy’s mouth.

“so what was going on in there?” immy asked, teasing.

“nothing. just training.”

“just training. suuuure,” she said with a laugh, clapping yana on the back, knocking the wind out of her.

they trudged up the stairs to the autoshop, yana’s legs crying out with each step. she was regretting the workout in that regard, but a tiny part of her brain was revelling in the time she spent with mal, mind reeling over each physical detail of him.

they made their way to the tiny kitchen (much smaller than the one underground), greeted with a few platters of breakfast food and a smiling woman.

“hi! i hear you’re the one who took over my bedroom,” nia grinned, giving a friendly wave. “it’s so nice to meet you.”

she cocked her head to the side, making sure to make a slight spectacle of almost not trusting nia’s friendliness – had to lean into the “raine” persona, right?

nia’s smile didn’t waver as she gestured at the food. “i thought i could give you a bit of a warm welcome. it was undoubtedly nicer than theirs, huh?”

ty chuckled under his breath, stepping away from the counter with a steaming mug of coffee. “you know us too well, nia.”

immy snorted, grabbing a plate and piling up the bacon and pancakes. “thanks, chief.”

nia laughed in response, handing a plate to yana, encouraging her to eat.

it was such a weird atmosphere. the night before was pretty tense – yana was tense. she was petrified of sleeping through the night for fear of someone coming in the room and offing her.

and to be greeted with platters of food and a chill atmosphere? madness.

it made her a bit nervous considering in her experience some of the most heinous crimes were committed by tight knit crews that considered each other family. she couldn’t help but wonder what kind of shit she’d gotten herself into.

she piled her plate with fruit and oatmeal, leaning against the wall as she popped a spoonful of cinnamon oatmeal in her mouth, chasing it with a sliced apple.

“glad to finally tip the scales. i didn’t think we’d be adding anyone to the crew, but i’m so happy you’re here,” nia said, taking a sip from her mug.

“i think immy’s woman enough for the both of us,” yana shrugged, shoveling another spoonful in her mouth.

“don’t tempt me, raine. i have no issue telling you exactly what i wanna do to you,” immy lifted a brow, licking the underside of her spoon very slowly, holding her gaze.

nia nearly choked on her tea, mumbling a soft “excuse me” as she grabbed a napkin to blot her mouth.

“flustering the nun. another tick off my bucket list,” immy cackled.

“former and i was training,” nia threw a pointed look at her, locking eyes with yana right after.

“you’re here with us now. that’s all that matters,” ty said, with a bit of finality, hushing the rest of the conversation.

mal burst into the room, drenched in sweat and half naked. “pancakes? oh fuck yeah. thanks nia.”

he piled the food on his plate, plopping down on the barstool at the counter. he glanced back at yana, then patted the seat next to him with a smirk. “i don’t bite.”

she rolled her eyes, rigid stance betraying the fluttering in her chest. she slid in next to him and ate silently, eyes trained on her food.

“so, boss, what’s on the agenda for today?” mal asked through a mouthful of food.

ty stared at him in disgust, setting his mug down to address the room. “we have a lot of planning to do. these next few jobs have to be absolutely seamless if we want to evade law enforcement.”

“what, you’re saying that the pigs caught wind of us?” immy asked, annoyance lacing her tone.

“no, not to my knowledge,” ty shook his head, a single wrinkle appearing between his thick brows. “but we won’t be able to keep this up for long.”

he strode over to the spread of food, grabbing a single grape, tossing it into his mouth. “each his has to count. there’s absolutely no room for mistakes.”

everyone nodded in agreeance.

“mal and immy, you’re with me. we’ll be planning escape routes, seeing if they match up with our physical map, scouting the areas – the grueling work. nia,” he said, glancing down at her. “you’ll take raine shopping. she’ll need a dress for the gala.”

he trained his gaze on yana, gaze penetrating right through her. she held her breath, hoping that nothing about the way she ate, sat, breathed tipped him off –

“get her a wig, too.”

––––

a power nap and a couple hours later, yana and nia were in nia’s car, driving towards the center of the city to the mall.

“i’ve never been to a gala before,” yana murmured honestly, watching the storefronts pass by, gradually getting more and more expensive.

“once you’ve been to one, you’ve been to them all,” nia shrugged, flicking her blinker before turning into the parking garage.

shopping was fairly painless. nia took her to her favorite store, forced her to try on a handful of dresses, and thankfully the second one fit (and was both of their favorites).

“this is too much,” yana said bluntly, trying to mask her eagerness to wear the floor length gown.

“no it’s perfect. you’ll fit in seamlessly,” she said, swiping her card. the cashier handed her the plastic covered gown, and they were out again.

“i have a few wigs back in my room that you can try on. i’m thinking a short blonde bob for you,” nia said, reaching out to gently push yana’s long dark strands over her shoulder.

nia was beautiful. her long red curls soaked up the sun and reflected the gold – she was clearly the best of them all with a heart big enough for everyone and then some.

her eyes were soft, smile even softer, with curves even softer than that.

there was something about nia that felt like home. yana brushed the thought away, redirecting her mind to the event.

“what am i supposed to do at the gala?”

“schmooze some rich people, make them think you’re high society, gain their trust, all of that,” she said simply, unlocking the car.

–––

after a quick wig fitting, nia flipped a hand mirror yana’s way, grinning widely. “you look gorgeous.”

“oh... that’s different.”

nia frowned. “different as in bad?”

“no, not bad,” she said, running her hand through the short blunt bob that didn’t even graze her shoulders. “just different. i’ve never been a blonde.”

“oh, you’ll be alright,” she reassured her, grabbing a mannequin head with a long blonde wig on it, pre-styled with curls and braids galore. “there’s always a first time for everything!”

when they emerged from their room, ready to head to the event in an unknown location (which made yana insanely nervous), the rest of the crew were neck deep in planning, mumbling amongst themselves.

“we’re out! be back in a few hours,” nia waved without a second glance, jingling the car keys as she went.

the three of them looked stunned when they laid eyes on yana. immy’s mouth upturned into a smirk and mal’s scarred eyebrow lifted – even ty looked a bit taken aback.

“you clean up well, raine,” immy nodded, gesturing to her gown.

“thanks,” she said, a bit uncomfortably.

as yana, she was flattered; as raine, she was bothered.

“uh, well, i’ll be back soon. bye.”

“wait,” mal called as she turned her back. “here.”

he slipped a blade and a thin leather strap into her hand, gently closing her fingers around it. “just in case.”

“is this –” she stopped, looking at the buckle and pouch. a thigh strap for the blade.

“yup. stay safe, raine,” he winked, returning to the table, which was covered in maps and loose papers.

–––

the gala was pretty boring.

maybe it was because she wasn’t exactly sure why she was there quite yet, so she couldn’t properly gather intel, but either way the attendees were bland.

nia blabbed on and on about mundane things with the men, laughing, twirling her hair, and gently resting a hand on a shoulder at the right time.

they were putty in her hands.

yana on the other hand was as charming as she could manage, trying to coax information out of the men who were two seconds away from getting handsy.

an hour and a half in, nia took the stage, which surprised her.

what shocked her even more was the fact that the gala was for charity. specifically nia’s charity.

she commanded the stage like she belonged there, and by the end of her speech about taking care of the people of their city, every socialite was scrambling to add an extra zero to their checks.

“this is your event? for your charity?” she whispered in nia’s ear between shaking hands and thanking the patrons.

“yeah! i’ll tell you more about it on the way back,” she said offhandedly, before leaning in to hug a woman covered in decadent jewels.

when they made it to the car, nia spilled immediately.

“so, i’m the face of the charity by day. it’s fairly new and pretty small,” nia started, keeping her eyes on the road.

“and you failed to mention your connection to it because…?”

“the crew thought i should wait to tell you.”

“i feel like i don’t have all of the pieces here, though.”

she sighed. “you don’t.”

yana raised a brow.

“i’m a former novitiate. a nun in training, if you will. i trained at a large church in the heart of the city, and my dream was to eventually head an orphanage and lead troubled youth to christ.”

“what changed?” she asked cautiously.

“my eyes were open to the corruption of the church before it was too late, thankfully. i couldn’t handle the greediness. it felt like every decision was driven by profit, not spirituality. their numbers were dollar amounts, not souls saved,” nia sighed, slowing to a stop at the red light, tugging the wig off her head. “each case was hand chosen for potential monetary gain. nothing was genuine.

“after leaving the church, i created the charity specifically to take care of homeless citizens, since we have a huge population of them. we’re focused on small victories like proper kitchens and distributing survival kits right now, but we’re working towards bigger things.”

“so… why was i involved tonight?” yana asked earnestly.

“because you’re a new face. a pretty face. virtually undetectable to these people. i can’t do all of it on my own, you know,” she smiled.

“so what does this have to do with the crew?”

“i’ll let them explain that to you,” nia said simply, ending the conversation.

––––

when they entered ty’s office, the rest of the crew were there, sitting around, drinking and chatting.

“there’re the pretty ladies,” immy slurred from her seat, holding up her nearly empty mug of beer.

“any news?” ty asked after taking a small sip of what looked like scotch.

“raine did awesome, just as i suspected,” nia beamed, throwing her arm around yana’s waist.

“that’s what i love to hear,” mal said from the seat next to immy, winking when yana caught his eye.

“i told her a bit about the gala, and my charity, but i thought i’d wait till we were all together to explain further.”

ty nodded. “that was the right move.”

“i’m all ears,” yana said, slipping into the open seat next to immy.

“you ladies earned a drink. let me grab you one before we get started. beer okay?” mal asked, jogging out the door towards the kitchen.

“beer’s fine,” yana called, slipping her heels off and rubbing her aching feet.

as soon as they both had their drinks, ty addressed her, launching into a full explanation.

“nia’s our best judge of character. i’d apologize that you weren’t kept in the loop until now, but you know how these things work. we can’t compromise the mission,” he said, stepping up from his desk to pace.

“nia is also our decoy, if you will. she’s the one who draws in the potential targets so we can gather information and plan. the rest of us are… not quite on good terms with the law,” he said, pausing his stride to look at yana.

immy laughed, throwing back the last of her beer. “you can say that again.”

“what’d you do?” yana asked, eyes darting between mal and ty.

“well, i’ve just done a lot of dirty work for people,” immy sighed, wincing. “and it backfired.”

“i’ll refrain from speaking about personal matters,” ty said, a hint of pain in his gaze.

“unlike the boss, i don’t mind telling you. i can’t remember a time where i wasn’t pissing off some cop. the list is endless,” mal grinned.

“you can’t just ask us and then not tell us what you’ve done,” immy complained, sliding her mug onto ty’s desk, quickly grabbing a coaster when ty’s gaze turned sharp.

yana shrugged. “i don’t know. i’ve always been a bit of a problem.”

it was true. growing up in foster care toughened her up pretty early. protecting her brother from bullies kept her in trouble.

they were never formally adopted, but they spent so much time in the same foster homes over time that kade just became her brother.

she got into the normal scrappy kid problems, stopping eventually when she’d racked up enough petty misdemeanors to potentially get time.

instead, she begrudgingly joined the force. she never liked being a cop, but she loved detective work.

it wasn’t her dream job, but it was the job that let her be whoever she wanted to be. yeah, sometimes she hated slipping into a different identity every couple of months (or years), but she couldn’t picture herself doing anything else. at least right then she couldn’t, as she sat amongst a crew that she’d infiltrated with no issue – she was playing them like a fiddle, and they had no clue.

“good thing we like to fix problems here,” mal said, eyeing her as he tipped his drink back.

nia laughed nervously, gripping her bottle tight. “okay, can we continue? please?”

“thank you, nia, as always, for keeping us on track,” ty said, nodding her way. “our operation is one that some would consider the… vigilante sort.”

“as in, you’re taking matters into your own hands?”

ty nodded again. “we’ve all experienced corruption in the city at different levels, and we’ve grown tired of sitting idly by while nothing gets done by the same officials who get reelected term after term while having no record of accomplishments.”

“and you think i’m a good fit here?” she didn’t know why she blurted that question out. it’s like every time she was on thin ice she ventured farther and farther, begging for it to crack.

“i saw it in your eyes, raine. you want to help people,” he said, holding her gaze. “this – our operation – can be how you do that.”

“i still don’t know what i’m getting myself into. i can’t decide anything without knowing,” she said, honest again.

“you’re going to have to decide.” his voice was firm, unwavering. he knew exactly what he was doing – every step of the past twenty four hours was a test, each interaction with each member converging to this moment.

she looked to each person in the room, from immy’s bright gaze, to nia’s warm inviting eyes, to mal’s sultry stare, to ty’s – his icy blue eyes were piercing. like the first time she met him, he was staring right through her as if he could see the essence of her being if he searched hard enough.

“i’m in.”

––––

#playchoices #bladesaw #mal volari #mal volari x mc #tyril starfury #nia ellarious #imtura tal kaelen #my fic #jade writes choices fics

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deanstop13billyjoeltraxx · 3 years

Text

Superposition

a deancas college roommates AU :)

Chapter 11 is up on AO3! Chapter-by-chapter masterlist here.

Happiness Feels a Lot Like Sorrow

Present

Dean was doing his best to uphold his end of the scotch-induced bargain of Monday night. At the very least, he told himself, it would make the next week more bearable, with Cas lingering in his apartment at all hours.

He’d still been making himself busy. He spent twelve hours at the shop on both Tuesday and Wednesday, trying to catch up on the work he’d missed while he’d been out. Bobby had saddled him with the worst of the lot; Honda Odysseys and GMC Yukons that needed tire rotations or oil changes before enormous families made their Christmas treks. He’d started on Cas’s car, but hadn’t gotten much further than getting the old timing belt off.

By the end of his shift on Wednesday, he was exhausted. It felt good, though, being back in the shop, music accompanying him (at a decidedly lower volume than normal), his hands constantly occupied, mind numb from the easy work.

As he drove home from work, a sign in a shopping center caught his eye. Before he knew what he was doing, he was pulling into the parking lot of a local bookstore. He turned off the Impala’s engine and walked into the store, not entirely sure what he was looking for.

It was by impulse, really, that he picked up a copy of The Great Gatsby. It was a special edition, with extra content bound up at the end. He remembered Cas saying something about that book once. It seemed like a reasonable gift.

Dean almost put the book back on the shelf three separate times before forcing himself to the checkout counter. He paid for the book in a hurry, tossing it into the back seat when he reached the car. Stupid, he thought to himself. He wasn’t even one-hundred-percent sure that Cas still liked that book. He supposed, if he chickened out, he could just give it to Sam, instead.

When Dean arrived at the apartment, Sam announced that he was picking up Taco Bell for dinner. Dean and Cas replied “crunchwrap” at the same time when Sam asked them what they wanted. He raised his eyebrows and the synchronicity, but didn’t say anything, just made a note in his phone. Cas went bright red. Dean stared resolutely at the ground.

Cas was sitting in the armchair with a book as Dean sunk into the couch, exhausted from two long days in a row. The history channel on. Dean wrinkled his nose and punched in the numbers for the Food Network.

“You watch the history channel? By choice?” Dean asked, feigning disgust.

Cas smirked as he closed his book. “I wasn’t really watching it,” he said, “But on occasion, I do like to listen to the conspiracy theorists on Ancient Aliens.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “That’s what you and Sam do all day? Nerd out over crazy historians?”

“Mostly,” Cas said sarcastically. Dean snorted.

“You sure you don’t want Sam or I to drive you home for Christmas?” Dean said. He’d made the offer the day before, but Cas had refused.

Cas sighed. “I’m sure. I appreciate the gesture, but Christmas with my family is the last disaster I want to saddle with myself after…” He waved his hand generally.

Dean nodded. “You still talk to any of ‘em? Your family.”

“Occasionally,” Cas said. “My father called yesterday to ask your same question. I suspect he suddenly feels quite guilty about his treatment of me, considering accountants make quite a bit more than small-town preachers.”

“He’s worried about his retirement fund?”

“Most likely. I do still talk to Anna, though, on a regular basis.”

Dean felt a memory pull at his brain. “She’s the, uh, the therapist, right?”

Cas smiled to himself. “Indeed.”

“I’m assuming you’re spending Christmas at Bobby’s?” Cas asked after a beat.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean said. “The usual thing. It’s always a good time.”

A smile tugged at Cas’s lips. “I’m glad.”

Dean drummed his fingers against the side of the couch. “You know,” he started, and he was already regretting it, “Sam wants you to come. To Bobby’s. For Christmas.” He cringed. The words sounded lame, like he’d made the whole thing up.

“He does?” Cas asked suspiciously.

“Yeah, but I told him it’d probably be weird, you know,” Dean said with a shrug. “Big crowds aren’t your thing, and all.”

Cas eyed him. “Why didn’t he ask me himself?” He wondered. “We spend a lot of time together.”

Dean stared at the TV. “I dunno, that’s on him.”

Dean could still feel Cas’s eyes on him. “Is this your way of inviting me to spend Christmas with you?” He asked.

Dean nearly fell off the couch. “What? No,” he rushed out. “I mean, it’s not… Not with me. With everyone. I dunno, if you’re gonna be here anyway…” He cleared his throat. “I mean, Christmas alone is kinda shitty. Especially in this shithole,” he added as he gestured at his apartment. “You can come if you want,” he said finally. “Everyone would probably be happy to see you.”

Cas was staring at him, staring through him, like he always did. Dean turned his attention back to the cooking show playing on the television.

“What?” Dean snapped.

“Nothing,” Cas said, tilting his head. “Déjà vu.”

Dean’s chest tightened at that. “Anyway,” he said, clearing his throat. “What d’ya say?”

“Okay,” Cas said eventually. “I’ll come, unless that would make you uncomfortable.”

Dean’s head snapped up. After everything, he hadn’t really expected Cas to say yes. “Uh, no, man, like I said on Monday. New start.”

“Right,” Cas said slowly. “And you don’t think we should talk about why we need a ‘new start’, as you say?”

Dean glowered at the TV. “Nope,” he said. Did he always have to make everything difficult? It had been three years, and Dean truly wanted nothing more than to forget about all of it. He didn’t want closure, he didn’t need closure. Neither of them did, seeing as Cas would go back to his glamorous life in less than a week, anyway.

He could feel Cas’s eyes on the back of his head, but he ignored them. “If that’s what you want,” Cas said, his voice resigned.

Dean sat up, then, finally facing Cas. “Don’t you?” He asked, unsure if that was a question he was ready to hear answered.

“I suppose, in a way,” Cas said.

“What the hell does that mean?”

It was Cas, now, who looked away. “It doesn’t mean anything,” he said. “Nothing important, anyway.”

Dean wanted to pry, but knew he would be a hypocrite if he did. He got up and moved to the kitchen for a glass of water. He brought a second one to the living room for Cas, who uttered his thanks.

“You ever finish that thing you were working on in college?” Dean asked.

Cas raised an eyebrow at him. “I thought we were on a clean slate. ‘Forgetting about everything.’”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Come on, that doesn’t count.”

Cas took a sip of his water. “If you’re referring to the pages that are sitting in your bedroom at the moment —” Dean winced “— then no.”

Dean shot him a confused look. “Why not?”

“I… Lost the inspiration,” Cas said carefully.

“Oh.”

Cas regarded him thoughtfully. “You ask me a lot of questions,” he said. “Am I allowed to do the same?”

“You can do whatever you want,” Dean grumbled.

Cas gave him a sideways grin. “I mean, will you become willfully taciturn if I ask you questions about yourself?”

Dean was ruffled at being called out so bluntly. “No promises,” he muttered.

“What has your life looked like the past three years?”

Dean wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t that. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Not real interesting,” he said. “Working for Bobby during the days, bartending at nights. Saving up money for Sam’s college. Living here.” He shrugged. “Pretty normal, I guess.”

“Do you still bartend?” Cas asked.

“Nah, I quit that when Sam got his scholarship,” Dean replied. “I make enough at the shop to cover what that money won’t.”

Cas smiled. “That’s quite impressive.”

“I’m just a mechanic.”

“I meant paying for Sam’s college.”

Dean felt heat crawl up his neck. “Not a big deal,” he said.

“I would have thought you were on your way to settling down,” Cas said slowly, like he was choosing his words carefully. “But that doesn’t appear to be the case.”

“No,” Dean said, and this conversation was getting dangerously close to acknowledgement of their history. Dean didn’t dare look at Cas. The fact that he thought, after everything, that Dean would be anywhere close to “in a relationship” was downright comical.

Dean, too, chose his words carefully. “I could say the same about you,” he said. “Unless there’s some guy waiting for you in KC,” he added, realizing he couldn’t possibly know otherwise. “Which, if there is, he’s kind of a dick for not —”

“There’s not,” Cas interrupted.

And that was surprising.

Dean hadn’t realized it until that moment, but he had fully expected Cas to be halfway down the road to marriage by now. The fact that he wasn’t erupted feelings that Dean wasn’t entirely ready to face.

“How’s the eye?” He asked, changing the subject.

Cas put three fingers up to the bruise, which was looking less black and more like splotches of blue and green. “Better,” he said decidedly.

“Good,” Dean replied.

They stopped talking, each turning their attention to the program playing on the TV. Dean had a brief moment of disassociation, watching the scene from somewhere beyond himself. It was strange, he thought, to be sitting in his living room with Castiel Novak, two twenty-somethings living vastly different versions of the same life. Inexplicably, he felt the same thing he’d felt when he was eighteen, lying in the dark, talking to Cas across the room. He felt known, he felt seen, like each and every part of him was open for voyeuristic display. It was nothing Cas had said, nothing he had done, it was just him. The way he pushed and pushed against Dean’s shoddy walls while somehow managing to meet him in the middle, every time.

Dean was grateful for the distraction of food when Sam returned. Dean was quiet during dinner, finding comfort in an observatory role. He wondered at Sam and Cas’s closeness, after only a few days spent holed up together. He rolled his eyes when the two of them began communicating in sign language, because of course Cas knew sign language. When Cas’s eyes flicked to Dean after Sam signed something, and the two of them laughed, Dean huffed and gathered the trash to take it out.

It was a frigid night, his breath visible in the low gleam of the floodlights. He tossed the bag over the side of the dumpster and paused. He dug in his pocket, and, finding both his lighter and a pack of cigarettes, lit one up and leaned against the dumpster.

Dean wasn’t sure how long he stood there, taking long drags until the end of the cigarette burned his fingers, and then just standing, staring into the parking lot.

“Dean?” A gruff voice called, and he turned to find Cas standing across from him, a tan trench coat thrown haphazardly over his black t-shirt and jeans. He cocked an eyebrow at Dean. “What are you doing?”

Dean dug the pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket in answer. “Smoke,” he said.

Cas gave a short nod and made his way over to the dumpster. He leaned against it, next to Dean, shoving his hands deep in the pockets of his coat. Dean gave him a sidelong glance, but Cas was looking straight ahead, deep in thought.

“You and Sam seem to be getting along,” Dean said, his voice gruff.

“Your brother is extraordinarily kind,” Cas said in reply, not bothering to look at Dean. “He talks about you often,” he added.

Dean snorted. “Yeah, well,” he said, but didn’t complete the thought. He hadn’t bothered to throw on a jacket, and he shivered as the wind blew straight through his thin flannel. Cas was standing close, their elbows almost touching, and Dean could have been eighteen again. He could feel it, somewhere deep in his stomach, that same bundle of nerves and excitement that had always come when Cas was just a little too close. He almost shut his eyes against the strength of it, but he willed it away, looking at Cas instead.

Cas still wore that intent expression on his face as he stared off into the distance. “Hey,” Dean said, elbowing him in the arm. “You creating world peace over there or something?”

The ghost of a smile. “No,” Cas said. “I’m just thinking.”

That was vague. Dean raised an eyebrow. “’Bout what?”

Cas side-eyed him. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Dean rolled his eyes and made a motion with his hand that said, go on.

“It’s just strange,” Cas started, wrapping the coat tighter around himself, “That I should end up stranded here, in Lawrence, of all places.”

Dean resisted the urge to pull out another cigarette before continuing this conversation. “I guess,” he said.

“Stranger still that your shop should be the one closest to me at the time.”

Dean shrugged. “Yeah, I mean, it’s kinda weird,” he said. “I never expected… Well, that’s why I hit my head, anyway.”

Cas whipped his head around to look at Dean in confusion. “What?”

And, yeah, this was embarrassing, but Dean couldn’t exactly stop now. He rubbed the back of his neck. “When I heard you talking to Bobby,” he explained, “I just kinda… Well, I was pretty friggin’ shocked to hear you, of all people.”

Cas stared at him. “Oh,” was all he said.

“So thanks for this,” Dean said, aiming for levity as he pointed to the soon-to-be scar on his forehead. He smirked.

Cas faced forward again. “I didn’t mean to shock you,” he said. “Actually, I had no idea it was you under that truck.”

Dean furrowed his brow. “What, even after you talked to Bobby, you didn’t figure it out?”

Cas shrugged. “The life I always pictured you might be living was very different than the one you live.”

Dean immediately felt defensive. “Okay, asshole, my life is —”

“I didn’t say ‘better’,” Cas interrupted. “Just different.”

That shut Dean up. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but he asked anyway, “What did you picture? For me?”

Cas narrowed his eyes. “Nothing very specific. I suppose a girlfriend, a good job, doing something you like, in a place that you liked. You used to speak so fondly of Texas, I thought maybe you’d moved there. You told me, once, that you had thought about engineering. I usually pictured you like that, an office job. A stable life.”

Dean was watching Cas paint that picture. An office job, coming home to some faceless girl and planning his life around the possibility of an okay-marriage and two-and-a-half kids, waking up at forty and wondering what exact point in his life had lead him down this road. It looked wildly unsatisfying from where he stood.

He just made a grunt of understanding. “Well, you were way off, pal,” he said.

Another small smile, like it had almost been contained. “Apparently,” Cas said.

“You know,” Dean said, uncomfortable with the attention placed on him, “You didn’t turn out how I thought either.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well after… You know, I read that thing you wrote. And it was good, Cas, it was damn good.” Something lodged itself uncomfortably in the back of his throat as he recalled the nights he spent wondering where Cas had been, what he’d been doing. He coughed. “I guess I just expected that, by now, you’d have published it. Made a shit-ton of money and bought a douchebag-sized house in, like, Ohio, or something.”

“You make it sound like it’s disappointing that that isn’t the case,” Cas said, and, though he was giving Dean a smirk, his eyes looked sad. Dean felt a pang in his chest at having caused unintentional pain.

“No, no,” he said quickly. “Not… I dunno, I guess… I thought that writing stuff made you happy. And…” And you deserve to be happy, even without me. Dean had the words, they were right there, but he couldn’t say them, couldn’t take that first step in bridging the now-unacknowledged divide between them. “Well, it’s not like I pictured you depressed or anything,” he said instead.

Cas turned to look at him. “Are you happy, Dean?”

The gravity of the question, the look in Cas’s eyes, curious and almost pleading, sucked the air right out of Dean’s lungs. And there was something screaming at the back of his brain, that no, he wasn’t, that he hadn’t been, that he could never be, because the one key ingredient to that happiness was —

“Yeah,” Dean replied in a small voice. “I guess so.”

Cas stared at him for a moment longer, still searching, before dropping his head and turning away.

“Are you?” Dean asked, almost defiantly, as if the question had been a test that now he was forcing Cas to take.

“I’m very fortunate,” Cas said carefully. “If I am unhappy, it is of my own doing.”

And that totally wasn’t an answer, but Dean let it slide. It was cold, and his back hurt, and he was tired from a long day at work. Silently, he pushed off the dumpster and began to make his way back to the apartment. Cas joined him, settling into a comfortable gait by his side. The air was languid between them, like it was too heavy to move.

Dean let both of them back inside and Cas excused himself to take a shower. Sam was watching something on TV and raised his eyebrows at Dean’s re-entrance. Dean just ignored him, settling onto the couch, thinking about fate and happiness and whether or not the two might be connected.

---------------

taglist! let me know if you want to be added/removed :)

@nguyenxtrang @castielsbeeslippers @fortiusnitius

#supernatural #deancas #destiel #destiel fic

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downwiththeficness · 3 years

Text

In the Bond-Chapter 6

Summary: Lilah often wished she’d never said yes to working with the Gecko brothers—usually while dodging gunfire. At no time was she regretting that decision more than when she’s hanging upside down from the ceiling, staring down a group of hungry culebras and one (1) extremely powerful sun god.

Word Count: ~6,400

Warnings: Spitting (Kind of)

A/N: This is an AU of my Story In the Blood, which can be read here. Basically, this fic explores what would have happened if Lilah had met up with Geckos before she met Brasa.

Taglist: @symbiont13

Start from the beginning Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Read on AO3 Masterlist

Lilah stared at the picture in front of her, memorizing the details of the staff. It was made of wood, intricately carved, and kept in a glass case. The stand it sat upon was very likely pressurized, any change in weight would set off the alarm. There were no heat sensors in the display room, but there were motion sensors and a steady rotation of guards. Not super tricky, but not child’s play.

“Do you have blueprints of the building?” she asked, eyes looking to Brasa.

She’d been careful in how she looked at him for the entire meeting, not wanting to give away how she could still feel his lips ghosting across her skin. Though she hadn’t shared any more dreams with him, Lilah couldn’t keep her mind from going over how nice it felt to have his weight on her, how his hands (which she later realized were gloveless) felt as they coasted over her body.

“I do,” he replied, gesturing to Javier.

They were sitting in the vast room that served as Brasa’s office. Seth was standing next to the desk, going over the staffing schedule. Like most businesses, they had set shifts. Also like most businesses, their turnover rate was fairly high—the pay was definitely not enough to hold on to the more experienced or more talented staff. This, of course, was all good for them.

Richie was sprawled in the chair next to her, “We got any of those explosives left?”

Lilah glanced at him, “Why? You want to blow a hold in the floor, drop the staff and its stand through to the bottom, and haul ass out through the sewer system?”

He smiled, lifting a shoulder, as if she’d perfectly described his thoughts. She took the blueprints from Javier and checked them over to see if they could make that work.

“As fun as that would be,” Lilah said, “and it would be pretty fun, the building doesn’t have an underground tunnel, sewer or otherwise. The foundation is too thick for that.”

“Well, damn,” Richie drawled, “Guess we’ll have to go with the old smash and grab.”

That wasn’t a bad idea, but Lilah hated to bring that kind of attention to them. It would not only set off the alarm, but the police station was less than three blocks away. Not a lot of time for their getaway. Better to do this nice and clean.

“Again, totally a fun idea, but not a smart one.”

Seth stood up, rubbing at the back of his neck, “Looks like we got about a half hour rotation for security. Plenty of time.”

It was plenty of time. There was no safe to crack, just a series of security measures to override. In some ways, that was more tricky. Lilah stared at the blueprints, her brain running over options.

“We’ll need a key card,” Richie prompted, sitting up and resting his forearms on his knees, “If we can get that, and the six digit passcode, we should be able to disable the system with no problem.”

She cut a look at him, “You have any ideas about how we can go about getting the card and code?”

He laughed, “Yeah.”

“Care to share with the class?”

“Knock out a guard, take the key card,” he explained, as if it were the easiest thing in the world, “There’s only one on-site during the evening hours.”

Not the worst plan. To be fair, that was usually how their plans started out. Still, it left something to be desired.

“And the code?” She prompted lightly, setting the blueprints down on the desk in front of her.

“Oh, we’d threaten him first. Get the code that way.”

She blinked, “And if he’s lying.”

He paused, “Alright, we try the code first, then knock them out.”

Too messy.

Lilah gathered the photos she’d discarded in her lap and set them on the desk by the blueprints, “Maybe we get the code a couple days before, then wait until the gap in the rotation, break in, take the staff, and walk out.”

Richie smiled wide, “And, how do we get the code beforehand?”

That was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it? They were lucky the codes didn’t roll over randomly—just one code assigned to each guard and used whenever they were on shift. Low maintenance, but high risk for this kind of location.

Seth crossed his arms, “Richie, you still got a couple of those tiny cameras laying around?”

Richie had bought about a hundred of these little cameras for ‘security purposes’, putting them around the bar. The move had paid off when they caught one of the bartenders taking some extra cash from the till at the end of shift. He’d never let Seth forget about it.

“Yeah, I got a few.”

“Alright,” Seth said as he braced his hands on the desk, “Lilah, you’ll going in and plant one of them in the line of sight of the keypad. We’ll monitor until we get the passcodes.”

Lilah observed him with a wry smile, “Look at you, making your way into the future.”

He rolled his eyes, but smiled, “Don’t get used to it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she replied dryly, her smile holding. It would take an act of God to get Seth to relinquish his way of doing things. Despite having an actual sun god in the room, Lilah was doubtful that she could get him to budge.

She rolled up the blueprints and handed them back to Javier with a nod of gratitude. He smiled wide at her, the expression self-satisfied. From across the desk, Brasa stood a little too quickly, a little growl cut off at the back of this throat.

“It seems you have this all in hand,” he said, a little too formally. “Lilah, I have the response to your edits in my personal library. If you’ll follow me.”

He turned and walked off towards a wall on the far side, hands tapping out a series of numbers on a pad situated on the wall. The smooth surface clicked open, and he pulled on it to reveal a hidden doorway. Impatiently, he looked back at her, a little nod indicating that she should hurry up.

With a click of her tongue, Lilah made her way towards him, moving through the doorway and into an incredibly dark hall. When Brasa pulled the door shut behind them, there was nothing to guide her way. Lilah felt her lungs draw in a shaky breath as she struggled to see. He stepped up and around her, taking her hand.

Lilah didn’t like the way she gripped the leather, didn’t like that she couldn’t see what was ahead. Still, she followed him until he slowed, the sound of keys being entered into a pad signaling that they’d come upon their destination.

When the door opened, he pulled her into a room that was lit with warm amber light. She blinked, her eyes adjusting. She knew this room. She knew the color of the walls, the texture of the ceiling, the feeling of the bed that dominated the space.

Already knowing the answer to the question, she asked, “Whose room is this?”

“Mine,” he replied, already moving to the far side and through an open door.

Lilah followed, feeling out of place. Awkwardly, she stood in the doorway and looked around the smaller, cozier room. Cast in dark wood and soft, sumptuous fabrics, the room was lined entirely with bookcases—floor to ceiling—that were absolutely stuffed with books.

Curious, she moved along the shelves nearest to her, hand skimming the tomes. There were languages she recognized and many that she didn’t. Her hands itched to pull them from the stacks and thumb through them. She wondered how long he had been collecting books, and how many of them filled this relatively small space.

At the center of the room was an overstuffed couch that sat opposite a desk with a computer and files scattered over it. Brasa was gathering paper and slipping it into one such folder, shoulders tense.

Lilah regarded him carefully, “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t spare her a look, tossing the file down and reaching for another, “I’m fine.”

“Yuh huh,” she said, “Seriously, what’s up with you? Five minutes ago, you were fine. Now, you’re...abusing office supplies.”

His expression, when he looked up at her, was incredulous, “What?”

“You’re throwing around files like they did something to you,” she couldn’t keep the laugh out of her voice.

His face hardened, and she could see the irises of her his eyes flicker. Lilah crossed her arms, waited. She’d found that if she waited a moment, he’d usually answer her, no matter the question. This seemed a good time to test that theory.

When her, admittedly small, patience ran out, she asked, “You going to tell me, or are you going to pout about it?”

“I’m not pouting,” he shot back, standing to his full height and circling the desk slowly.

She watched him warily, noting how tightly he was wound. He looked ready to lash out, and she was definitely in the line of fire. Irritated by his behavior, she shifted a little on her feet, unable to let it go.

“Well,” Lilah bit out, “You sure as shit aren’t talking about it.”

Slipping his hands into his pockets, Brasa gave a humorless laugh, “You are impossible.”

She sneered, “That’s the second time you’ve told me that. It wasn’t true before, its not true now.”

His glance skittered away, “I realize that this is new for you, but you are walking a thin line.”

Lilah repeated the last three words, her eyes narrowed in confusion, “What the fuck does that mean?”

When his eyes found hers again, there was anger there, and not a little betrayal, “Flirting with other males in front of me is not going to get the response you want.”

She was...still confused. After a few more seconds, she was pissed off. Lilah took a step towards him, her jaw clenched.

“Who the fuck was—you know what? No, that’s not the point. The point is that you think I’m the kind of person who would do something like that to get a rise out of you.” She took a step back, “No, I’m not the asshole, here. You are.” And then, “You can email me the edits, okay?”

Without waiting for an answer, Lilah walked as calmly (and quickly) as she could through his bedroom and out into the hall. In the dark, she cursed lowly and felt her way along until she reached the door, grateful that it was locked from this side and she didn’t have to wait for Brasa to key in the code.

Before she moved back into the office proper, Lilah took a deep breath and schooled her features. Her emotions were oscillating wildly from shock, to incredulity, to anger that burned hot in her belly. She hadn’t done a single thing wrong, and to be accused of...she didn’t even know what, made her want to blow something up. Damn shame that she’d already used all the explosives. Lilah took another calming breath.

With a well placed lie, she managed to get through the next few minutes of packing up. She was careful to keep conversation going on the way home, even stayed at the bar for a drink. Lilah gave nothing away as she quietly seethed. It wouldn’t do any good to vent this kind of frustration—not that she could really tell anyone. Her personal relationship with Brasa was still secret, and she wasn’t going to upset the delicate balance that she’d set up with a childish outburst—unlike some people.

Lilah spent the evening vowing to hold this grudge as long as she could stand it, her fury remaining at a low simmer in her belly. When her phone vibrated in her pocket, she opened a text message from an unknown sender asking her to talk. She deleted it, focusing on the job she’d been contracted to perform.

Three days later, she was sitting in a van parked a block or so away from the museum, checking the comms.

“Everyone hear me?”

Seth’s voice sounded, “We can hear you. Now, shut up for a minute while I get this lock open.”

They had to do things the old fashioned away for the outer locks on the back door, no key code security measures. Lilah had rolled her eyes at the excited look on Seth’s face as he threw down his lock picks onto the table where they’d rolled out the blueprints Javier had loaned them.

From over the line, she heard Seth make an approving grunt, the sound of the door opening a moment after.

“We’re through the first set of doors.”

Lilah nodded, eyes on the computer in her lap, “Guard is starting his rotation. He’s just left the office.”

“Ten minutes for a full round,” Richie murmured, “I’ve clocked it.”

Again, she nodded, “I started the timer. Get in the office, cut the security feed.”

The museum had upgraded to digital a while back, but their servers only uploaded once an hour. She checked the clock. They had three minutes until upload. She watched Seth and Richie approach the office and bypass it for the server room. Two minutes. They were moving leisurely, almost sauntering through the hall. Wasting time.

“Pick up the pace,” she said.

“We’re on it, princess,” Seth retorted.

“Then get going” Lilah shot back in sing-song. “You’re down to a minute, fifteen seconds.”

On the screen, they found the server, and slipped the USB she’d made for them into the drive. Thirty seconds left. Lilah switched screens, watching the little yellow bar make its way from left to right. Fifteen seconds. The bar went green and she smiled.

“Server’s crashing,” she confirmed lowly. “Get out of there.”

With a salute to a camera that wasn’t recording, Seth grabbed Richie from where he was looking at the electronics, hauling him towards the next checkpoint. They would have to wait until the guard crossed back to the office, turn off the motion sensors, and get the staff out of the case.

That was the tricky part. The case was bolted down to its stand, and they couldn’t risk the sound of a drill alerting the guard. They’d have to manually unscrew the case, hold down the weight sensor, lift the staff, replace it with the dummy weight, close the case, and get back to the checkpoint before the guard made their next round. Thirty minutes was a long time, but there was a lot to do.

“Guard’s coming,” Lilah warned.

They ducked behind a corner as the guard passed, Richie watching him discreetly. When it was safe, they circled around to the next room where the staff was on exhibit. Motion sensors disabled. On to the case.

Lilah appreciated how efficient they were, when they were focused. Moving as a single unit, they worked their way around the case, wrenches in hand, making quick work of it. Once they had it off, Seth reached into the bag they’d brought with them and held up the staff they’d created as a temporary replacement.

Richie had spent a few hours putting it together, and from a distance it looked pretty good. It would, at least, buy them enough time to get away and make the two hour flight back to Mexico. With any luck, it would be a few days before they figured it out. Lilah didn’t count on it. She’d booked a flight within an hour of when they were going to finish the job. No bags to check. Straight through security and onto the plane.

Lilah watched as Richie slipped a knife over the pressure sensor, his other hand nimbly plucking the staff from the stand. Seth carefully set the replica into place, both men holding very still as Richie pulled the knife free. After a second or two where both looked to be holding their breath, Richie stuffed the staff into the bag as Seth replaced the case. Screws ratcheted back into place, motion sensors reactivated.

“Don’t forget the camera,” Lilah prompted, laughing when Seth scoffed and spun on his heel, snagging the device and pocketing it on the way down the hall.

“Guard’s on his round,” she whispered, “Get to the hallway. Now.”

Moving quickly, Seth rounded the corner, barely clearing it before the guard stepped into the room. They hustled back the way they came and out into the alley, locking the door behind them. Lilah closed down the computer and threw it in the backseat of the van, turning over the ignition. A few minutes later, the sliding door was opened and both men jumped inside. The van was already moving before they got the door closed again.

“Without a hitch,” Richie drawled as he relaxed in his seat.

Seth smiled at his brother, “That was good work.”

“We’re not done yet,” Lilah called back, “Still have to get it across the border.”

“Ah,” Seth sighed, “That’s the beauty of it. The postal system is going to do all the hard work for us.”

Reaching back, he pulled the prepped box from the third row of seats. He snapped at Richie, who handed him the bag. Into the box went the staff, with a little bubble wrap for protection. A little packing tape, and it was all sealed up and ready to go.

Lilah pulled off to the side and into the parking lot of the mail center, watching as Seth hopped out of the van and dropped the package into the chute. It would be at the bar within a few days. Easy peasy.

She slept on the plane, an alarm set for sunrise. Since she’d last seen him, Lilah had refused to sleep during the day, and only for a few hours at a time. It made her irritable and a little foggy, but she didn’t want to see him. Whenever she thought about their last interaction, Lilah got angry all over again. She’d take a little hit to her functioning to have their next meeting be completely on her terms.

Lilah had gone over the conversation a hundred times, wondering how he’d gotten the impression that she’d been trying to goad him by flirting with—she actually couldn’t figure out which male he’d been concerned about. Best she could figure, he was working off an old framework, the power imbalance between himself and his queen. That wasn’t going to fly, not with her. She had too much going on to deal with a partner (was he even her partner?) who’d go off half-cocked at the slightest feeling of jealousy. No. Lilah had other shit to deal with.

It was with regret that she knew she would have to go and speak with him. Lilah couldn’t avoid him forever—she snorted at the thought—things would have to be cleared up eventually. Besides, she needed to get back to her sleep schedule if she was going to be of any use to anyone. Better to rip this metaphorical Band-Aid off quickly, and soon.

Arguing that she had to deliver the next draft of the treaty, Lilah stashed the staff in the back seat of her car and headed out into the dying sun. The two hour drive gave her enough time to work out what she was going to say. First, she was going to demand an apology. Lilah deserved that much. Then, she was going to discuss boundaries for the future. That seemed like the adult thing to do. Lilah congratulated her self at how mature the plan sounded in her head. Reality, however, wasn’t quite so easy.

As she pulled into the parking lot, Lilah debated leaving the staff in the elevator to be found by whoever might be walking by and hauling ass back to the bar. That, unfortunately, would put the covering of their expenses (for which she had receipts) at risk. She’d never live it down if she came back empty handed. So, into the elevator she went.

In the carriage, Lilah felt warmth crawl up her side. She sneered to the ceiling, “Stop it.”

It stopped.

Steeling herself, Lilah stepped into the red light and headed for the bar. Brasa already knew she was here, so all she had to do was sit and wait for him to come to her. She pushed up onto a bar stool and set leaned the staff next to her legs. When the bartender approached, she ordered a bourbon, watching him pour the shot. When she tried to pay, he waved her off, telling her it was on the house.

Suspicious, she pocketed the cash and picked up the glass, sniffing. Nothing smelled off with it, so she took the tiniest sip. Tasted fine. She set it down. Suspicious. Lilah very rarely got free drinks, her looks too severe, her manner too cold. To be fair, that was her preference most of the time. Lilah didn’t have the energy or the patience to fend off advances from drunken men.

A shadow appeared beside her, but it was too cold to be the person she was waiting for. Lilah looked up, unsmiling.

“Can I help you?”

The man flashed his teeth, “I’m Benny.”

Lilah continued to look at him, unamused.

Uninvited, he sat, leaning an arm on the bar top, “You’re not what I expected.”

She debated answering him, a half dozen cutting remarks flying through her mind. In the end, she settled for turning her attention to her drink and ignoring him. Best course of action, really. Lilah needed to save all her quips for the person she was actually mad at.

“You don’t talk much, do you?”

At this Lilah rolled her eyes, fixing the guy with a look that said, ‘what the fuck do you think?’

His expression grew still, and she could see the glint of his game face, though he worked to control it. He growled, his hand grasping her arm above the elbow. The grip was painful, and Lilah only just managed to keep her expression cool as she felt the very real danger he presented to her. She was armed, both gun and knife, but she was technically in enemy territory. Starting a fight with one might mean starting a fight with all. Her eyes scanned the room, too many possible enemies nearby.

She’d have to talk her way out.

Heat pushed at her back.

Or not.

Benny let her go, sliding off the stool and taking a step away. Lilah craned her neck to confirm what she already knew.

“Oh, thank God,” she murmured, reaching down and picking up the staff, “I got what you asked for.”

Brasa’s attention was on the culebra who was backing away. He stared them down for a few more seconds before his eyes turned to her. Lilah held up the staff, shaking it from side to side a little.

He glanced at the staff, glanced at her, then turned, “Come with me.”

Lilah stared at his back for a second before she sighed and followed him through to his public office. There was no conversation as they traversed the stone pathway towards his desk. When he reached it, Brasa leaned his hips back on the desktop, gloved hands folded in front of him.

Wordlessly, Lilah handed him the staff. He took it, held it in both hands for barely a moment before setting it aside. For as much effort as he was going through to get ahold of it, he certainly didn’t look pleased to actually have it in his possession.

Unable to take more silence, Lilah said the only thing she could think of, “For the record, I wasn’t flirting with him, either.”

First shot fired. Lilah shifted on her feet in preparation for return fire.

Eyes dropping down and to the side, Brasa pushed his hands into his pockets and released a heavy sigh, “I regret how I reacted last time we spoke.”

Well, that was unexpected. Lilah had expected him to double down on it, not express regret. Still, that wasn’t an apology. It did, however, take the edge of her anger.

Lips pursed, she replied, “I’m sure you do.”

Another sigh. It looked like she was going to have to take lead on this, if she wanted a resolution. Lilah very deliberately did not think about why she might want resolution as opposed to giving him the eternal cold shoulder.

“Hey,” she began, holding up her hands, “You can’t get angry any time I’m nice to anyone around me. I have work to do, and that involves having good relationships. Jealousy is not a good look.”

He nodded, “I am unused to these feelings and I am struggling to control them.”

A good explanation, but not an excuse for the behavior.

“That’s okay,” Lilah responded, taking a step forward, “But you need to talk with me about them and not...make assumptions.”

Another nod, “I’m sorry.” There was her apology. “I will try.”

She saw it for what it was, a gesture of good faith. Mollified by his words, Lilah’s shoulders dropped. She hadn’t realized how much tension she’d been holding in her body for the last few days. And now, she didn’t quite know what to do with all the built up anger. Suddenly, she was very tired.

“Good,” she said, “Let’s call it rule number one: if something is bothering us, we’ll talk about it.”

At this, he stood up straighter, his eyes finally finding hers, “I can do that.”

“Okay.”

“Are you going to continue blocking me?” He asked in a small voice.

Brows together, Lilah responded lamely, “Blocking?”

He shrugged, “I haven’t been able to feel you while you were acquiring the staff. I worried.”

Ah. Lilah wondered if he’d picked that up. Of course he had.

“I’m sorry,” She said reflexively, “I needed a little space.”

He licked his lips, eyes regretful. Lilah felt a stab of remorse in her chest. She hadn’t meant to make him worry, she just needed to take a little time for herself to work out her feelings. And, she couldn’t do that if she could feel him with her in the interim. Still, she could also make a gesture of good faith.

“Alright,” she breathed, moving closer to him, “Rule number two, if we talk about it, we won’t block each other out of spite.”

Looking placated, Brasa reached out and took her hands, “I’m glad you are safe.”

“Me, too,” Lilah laughed, “There was no danger. We got in and out with no problems.”

He shook his head, “That isn’t the danger I’m worried about. The culebra out there? Benny? He’s been stirring the others up. He knows who you are to me, and I don’t put it past him to strike out at you to get to me.”

Setting aside the question of how Benny figured out that Lilah was bonded to Brasa, she took a minute to think, “Should I pull a weapon next time?”

He smirked, “You’re a terrible shot.”

“I didn’t say it would be a gun.”

“Oh?”

“I still have my knife. I did alright with the last guy. Got him twice before he threw me through the window.”

Brasa winced, “The point is that he was able to throw you through a window before I got there.”

“That is a good point,” Lilah said seriously, though she could feel a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

He rolled his eyes, “Be serious.”

“I am,” she shot back, “I can handle myself in a fight. Usually.”

That was only half a lie. Lilah could handle herself with humans, most of the time. She’d been struggling to hold her own in a fight with a culebra ever since she’d first come up against them. But, he didn’t need to know that.

Deciding that she needed to change the subject, Lilah nodded to the staff, “What do you need it for, anyway?”

He drew he a little closer, expression serious, “I intend to close the portal between this world and Xibalba, so that no others like me come through it.”

She blinked, “Like you?”

Brasa hummed in confirmation, standing and leading her to the side where the secret door was open and waiting.

“Culebras were slaves there, treated as slaves, culled when needed,” he explained, stepping into the dark hallway. “Xibalbans are, as a whole, selfish creatures—destructive, vain, apathetic. Despite my birth status, I experienced what it was like to be subservient to them for many centuries. I don’t want this world to see that kind of pain.”

Lilah listened quietly, walking with him into his bedroom and through to his library where she sat on the couch at his side.

“I’ve done a lot of research,” he continued, “With the relics you acquire for me, I can close the veil permanently.”

She waited a few seconds to make sure he wasn’t going to explain further, then said, “I’m completely on board with this plan.”

He smiled, “I thought you might be.”

“How many more relics to I need to get?”

Brasa laid his arm over the back of the couch, “Three. A cup, a book, and a knife.”

“Sounds easy enough.”

“It could be,” he replied, reaching out to trace along her jaw, “I still worry for you. I think I always will.”

She could feel the heat of his body beneath the leather, and she found that she wanted to feel his hands—for real, this time, instead of vague remnants from a dream. In the moments of quiet, her skin remembered what it was like to be caressed by those hands, to feel his fingers curl around her.

“Why do you wear the gloves?”

His hand dropped, his head pulling back. Lilah regretted her words immediately, but he stopped her when she made to apologize.

“You know I’ve killed people,” he said plainly, “My queen, she made me do things that I couldn’t say no to. At first, I thought I was doing the right thing. I believed in it. In the end, I think I did it because I enjoyed it.” He looked down at his hands, “I guess I felt like if I didn’t touch them, if I didn’t feel it as I killed them, I could put distance between what I am and what I was made to do.”

Lilah was quiet a long time. He wouldn’t look at her. She could see the shame on his face, in the slump of his shoulders. She made a decision.

With deliberate slowness, she picked up his hand, saying, “I think we need to make new memories with these hands, then.”

Checking to make sure he was okay with it, Lilah very carefully pulled the glove off. His hand was a nice, normal hand. No scars, neatly trimmed nails, a wide palm with surprisingly fine boned fingers. Watching his face, she lifted it and placed it on her cheek, the warmth seeping in immediately. Lilah held it there, letting him feel.

He swallowed audibly, thumb swiping over her cheekbone. The touch was soft, delicate, testing. With just as deliberate a pace, Lilah pulled the glove off the other hand, placing it on the opposite cheek. He was breathing hard, eyes unfocused, plush lips parted. She could see the way his pupils were dilating, taking over the iris and bleeding a little into the white.

Lilah didn’t know why she did it, but instinct had her moving closer, swinging a leg over his hips and pushing him into the back of the couch. He kept his grip on her cheeks, letting her settle into his lap. Lilah dropped her forehead onto his, eyes half lidded. His body was fire hot beneath her, and she could tell that he was itching to move, yet he remained docile.

Letting the moment expand between them, Lilah touched her nose to his, bumping it affectionately. He smiled, his hands pushing into her hair.

“See?” she prompted gently, “New memories.”

He nodded even as he lifted up to kiss her, his hands holding her steady as he slipped his tongue inside for a taste. Lilah ran her hands down his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he kissed her nearly senseless. The scent of him, the way his arms wrapped around her middle and held her tight, the taste, it all mixed together in a way that made her lightheaded.

Brasa jerked back, pulling away even further when Lilah made to follow him. She panted, blinking as she took in the black of his eyes, the fangs that had descended. He hadn’t nicked her, she couldn’t taste blood, but she did notice a strange tingling on her lips, over her tongue.

“What?”

He ran his tongue over his lips, “I can’t kiss you like this.”

Her brows furrowed, “Because of your teeth?”

Mouth twitching, he shook his head, “Because of the venom.”

She drew in a breath, “I have no idea what to do with that information.”

He touched her mouth ever so gently, “Kissing you is arousing, Lilah.”

“Uh huh,” she said, nipping at the pad of his forefinger, “That’s kind of the point.”

Hand dropping, Brasa searched for words, “The muscle that controls the venom is reflexive, I can’t control it. Kissing you… like this...you’re very likely to ingest the venom.”

“And,” Lilah prompted, following his line of thought, “You think I’ll suffer from some of the effects.”

“Yes.”

They were going to have to get past this, sooner or later. Lilah voted for sooner.

Settling further into his embrace, Lilah cupped his jaw, leaning into his space, “Are you likely to be aroused any time we kiss for more than a moment?”

Eyes bright, he nodded, “Very likely, I think.”

“Then,” she reasoned in an even tone, “You’re going to settle for quick little kisses for the rest of our relationship?”

To give him an example to go by, Lilah dropped down and pressed a soft, but fleeting kiss to his mouth. He tried to lean up to get at her again, but she pushed him down, surprised by how willingly he submitted to the motion.

“I mean,” she continued, giving him another quick kiss, “If that’s what you want,” she kissed him harder, but just as quick, “I can try to accommodate you.”

He looked so torn, sitting underneath her weight, hands rubbing at her hips, pulling her into the hard planes of his body. Lilah might have had mercy on him if she thought he would get over his hesitation on his own. Deliberately, she gathered all the bravado she had in her body, using it to do what might normally make her feel too vulnerable.

“You know what that means, though, right?” she breathed, her mouth barely brushing against his, “No deep kisses, no sliding my tongue against yours,” she carded her hands back into his hair, pulling gently and reveling in the little contented moan he made. Then, she went in for the kill, “And definitely no biting.”

Brasa flinched, and she knew she had him. His grip on her hips tightened to near pain, his body rigid. Biting was so deeply ingrained in his kind, a need so deeply held, that to deny it was unthinkable. Lilah knew this, and she was definitely above using it.

She released her hold on his hair, palms on either cheek, “Do you want that?”

“No,” he rasped, a low growl building in his chest.

Smiling, she asked, “Then, what are we going to do about it?”

He looked at a loss, “I don’t know.”

Lilah thought for a moment, half a plan already formed, “You said I could ingest the venom and feel its effects. Is that better than a bite?”

Hesitation, then a curt nod.

“Okay then,” she said lightly, “How about we start with that? We can work up to a bite when you feel more comfortable.”

Lilah had no idea when she’d become so relaxed about him kissing her, biting her, and all the things that went along with that act. What she did know was she wasn’t going to sit stagnant, waffling about the rightness of it. Lilah wanted more kisses, and that was enough for her.

When she moved to kiss him, he pulled back a little, shifting to the side. Lilah, off balance, fell to the cushions. He crawled over her, hips settling between her thighs, though he held most of his weight on his arms. She laughed softly, letting her body relax into the couch.

“Just a little,” he urged, expression eager, “To start. To see how you do with it.”

Willing to let him experiment, Lilah nodded, chin tilting up with the gentle pressure his his hand.

“Open,” he whispered, his mouth hovering over hers.

Lilah’s lips parted, her eyes falling closed. She felt his jaw flex, felt little drops fall onto her tongue. They were hot, like the rest of him, rolling over her taste buds to burn down the back of her throat. She swallowed reflexively, taking whatever he was willing to give her in that moment.

When he lifted a little, Lilah opened her eyes to see him searching her face. She didn’t quite get why he was so nervous—he’d told her that the venom wasn’t harmful, that the effects were pleasing. Still, she was charmed by the concern.

And then the tingles started. Over the length of her tongue, her lips, the inside of her cheeks, down her neck and into the pit of her belly. Little tingles everywhere, as if she were covered in little tickling bubbles. Lilah huffed out a breath, grinning.

“Good?”

She nodded, “Very good.”

Though clearly pleased, his face was serious, his gaze looking her over and clocking every little movement.

She said his name to capture his full attention, “This is nice.”

His mouth kicked up on one side, “Wait until it peaks.”

“Peaks?”

Brasa hummed a little, pushing hair away from her face, his touch light. A moment later and she knew what he meant. The pleasant tickle turned into a searing burn of pleasure, her muscles going lax and nerves firing sporadically. She let out a startled yelp, her hands coming up to dig into his broad shoulders.

“Hush, querida,” he murmured, hands running along her sides.

As quick as it rose, so did the feeling subside. Lilah was left sucking in air as she gained control of her limbs again. She wiped sweat from her forehead, her hand trembling.

Staring up into his carefully guarded eyes, Lilah gave him a soft smile, “That’s a good start, I think.”

#from dusk til dawn #from dusk til dawn: the series #Brasa #In the Bond

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kotalefanzu · 3 years

Text

Pitch Pearl ATUS AU- Part 3

ahahaha. i finally came back to wite the finale. WOOOO. im still sorry about waiting so long oof.

where we last left off, danny had a dream about phantom, in which he tells him about the creation of the natural portals. he leaves danny, saying that he’ll come running back soon enough. when he wakes up, jazz tells him that sam and tucker have gone missing.

danny takes a second to process that information along with the dream and his brain just shuts down. he goes on autopilot, acting like he didn’t hear a word she just said. jazz tries to snap him out of it to get some sort of reaction but when she actually looks him in the eyes, filled with exhaustion, fear, and helplessness, she realizes that he doesn’t need any more things to worry about and goes to tell their parents not to bother him.

when she leaves, he blankly goes through the motions as he normally would. just like before this all happened. he checks his phone with slight hope that they may have tried to contact him, but after realizing he spent ten minutes just staring at it, he puts it away and doesn’t check it again. the walk to school is nothing but a stream of consciousness and he doesn’t even really feel awake anymore. everyone is just a blur while his brain refuses to process anything around him.

he gets to class, looks at his friends’ desks, and notices two cleanly carved DP symbols on them. it makes him start giggling a little, then laughing loudly, before he sinks to the ground crying out of frustration and overload.

a town meeting is called in the middle of school. the missing children line up with the new influx of ghost sightings and they want to check to see if any more kids have gone missing. someone points out the danny got taken last and the two missing children were his friends. others bring up the lunchroom incident and start pestering him with questions, seeking answers. danny waits for his family to quiet everything down before explaining everything from his first day in captivity all the way to last night’s dream. many people want to push the blame onto danny for painting a target on their heads and force him to deal with it on his own while others want to use danny as a bargaining tool to save their lives.

the fentons reject every suggestion and say that the most important thing here to do if to protect the children and find a way to defeat the ghosts now that blocking their way into the human realm is no longer an option. they explain that giving danny up might be a trap if phantom was able to kidnap sam and tucker but didn’t head straight for danny. he is told to safe and not try anything.

the GIW are called in to work on locating one of the portals and storming the ghost zone to rescue the missing children. danny is desperate to help and spends most of his time reliving unwanted memories just to give any form of information that might be helpful. after a while they send him away to try getting back to normal life as he needs a form of distraction.

at lunch, he is cornered by the other teens who ask if he is really just going to sit there and do nothing. danny is hesitant to lead more children into the ghost zone where they could be hurt, but they are determined and at this point, he is willing to risk it. after stealing a bunch of weapons from his parent's old weaponry vault, he finds a natural portal and opens it. they get sucked into it and arrive in the courtyards of phantom’s keep.

the ectoplasm flooding his system is mildly overwhelming but he pushes through it and begins guiding everyone to the dungeons where they would probably be kept. he notices while navigating that strangely everything is the same as it ws before he left, from to the decor to the guard rotations. when they reach the dungeons, sam and tucker aren’t there. it confuses him. he tries to think about where else phantom could have put them and a small voice whispers, ‘check your old wing’. its actually easier to sneak back to his old wing due to all the times he has snuck in and out of it. while the rest of the group aren’t so used to the routes, following him makes it a lot easier. waiting in the common room of the wing are sam and tucker, posed like lifeless dolls and dressed in clothing uncomfortably similar to what danny once wore, though less extravagant. their skin is pale and lifeless and their eyes are glowing

perched on their heads are silvery circlets. danny motions for the rest of the group to stand behind him. sam and tucker slowly turn to look at them and another battle breaks out.

its obvious from how they are fighting that while they wont strike to kill danny, they dont care about sparing the rest. the group slowly works out a system of one half distracting sam while the other go to hold down tucker and remove the circlet. as soon as it comes off, the glow from his eyes fades and he stills like they pushed his power button. with one less person constantly firing at them, its a lot easier to do the same for sam as she can’t fight them all off. dash and kwan take up carrying the limp, unconscious people and they make off with their battle spoils to the portal.

danny reopens the portal and makes sure everyone gets through, doing a headcount. when he is sure everyone is accounted for and out of the ghost zone. he thanks them and seals it, locking them in the human realm with him on the other side.

it takes a while for the group to finally tell someone what happened and they start fearing how to explain to the two dead to the world people who still haven’t woken up yet. they finally fess up when jazz drives by and asks where danny is. they silently just show her sam and tucker and watch the emotions flicker rapidly on he face. in the end she settles on heartache and gives a weak smile, telling them that she’s glad they are back but wishes they could have brought her brother back as well. she is more forgiving when they explain that it was his decision and they didnt have time to stop him before it was too late.

back in the ghost zone, danny stares blankly at the sealed portal, wondering if he should just step through now before its too late. just as he reaches out his hand, he gets pulled in a tight embrace as phantom laughs in his ear.

“What did I tell you, Starlight. You would come running back into my arms soon enough. Let’s go back home. You’ll find I didn’t change anything when you left. We can go right back to how it used to be before. Like you never ran away from me.”

he stays huddled up in his room for most of the time, only coming out when phantom wants him to accompany him on an errand or when he has to attend meetings with phantom. the faces are familiar. he made a few friends during his captivity and while the circumstances are grim, its pleasant to see them again.

for starters, clockwork was a common face when danny began getting incredibly homesick. phantom had requested danny be allowed to view the present of his ‘loved ones’ lives and he had spent every moment he could watching them throughout the day and making sure they were fine. clockwork also had hilariously awful puns, though they werent allowed to actually say them anymore after phantom got jealous and forbade them from speaking to danny. danny still carried the one-sided conversations and it seemed to cheer clockwork up from the decree. princess dora, now queen dora, was also a good friend of his, often discussing with him the pain of living with overbearing nobility. she had done a double-take when he approached her and sat him down to calmly ask what happened, though he could see the tension laced through her. after recounting she took a long sip of her tea and looked him in the eyes. she told a seemly random story of her exploring her kingdom and hearing a bard singing about how the mighty dragon princess stole the dragon king’s crown and the mighty dragon queen took her dear brother down. the piercing look in her eyes before she moved to a new topic told him more than enough.

the few moments of reprieve they offered was not enough to outdo the lappet treatment of phantom that allowed for no rejection, but it was something and it was all he could ask for.

sam and tucker wake up finally after being in a coma for two days. after scanning the room filled with their classmates, parents, and the fenton family, they quickly realize the only one not there that should be is danny. sam is the first one to speak, immediately yelling at them for trading them for danny and going off about how they need to go back for him as soon as possible. dash defends them by telling her that its not their fault danny closed the portal before any one of them could drag his skinny self sacrificing ass through it. they cant reopen it without him.

sam quiets down after that and tucker takes out asking all the questions he can think of to find a way to fix this. there has to be a way to reopen the portal.

(a cut back scene to danny interacting with phantom. im not good with writing abuse mixed with love very well so go ahead and use your imaginations okay uwu)

sam and tucker also end up secluding themselves and working nonstop on trying to figure out how to save danny. jazz stops by every day to check on them and pass on homework and anything she hears about the ghosts to them. while they start cleaning up the room to take a break and finish schoolwork, sam trips on a piece of paper and is about to fall. only she is caught in mid-air and surrounded by a neon lime green aura, one similar to danny’s though his is a bluish mint. the aura dissipates and she hits the ground with a soft thud but everything stops as tucker and her look at each other in shock.

“That was you!”

“That was me!”

homework gets pushed aside again for experimentation and documenting. they might be able to reopen the portal after all.

#im so nice to characters #look at my kindness #arent i so nice #i edited this #less typos this time around owo #sorry there is going to be another part.#there is so much #danny phantom au #Danny Phantom #danny fenton #pitch pearl au #pitch pearl #tw: toxic relationship #tw: brain washing #part 3 #part 4 coming soon promise

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adonis-koo · 4 years

Text

don’t call me angel

Note: a parting gift for the new year! I hope you all enjoy because snarky best friends Seokjin/MC is my new favorite trope 🥺

↳ Summary: Life as an assassin was never what it was supposed to be, filled with bloody knuckles and bruised skin, sleepless nights and empty tears spilled. Life was hell, but it looked like just a fracture of heaven when Seokjin was with you. Until he’s become distant, tense when you speak to others, different, but just enough for you to subtly notice.

↳ Genre: Assassin!AU, angst, fluff, smut, fwb(?)

↳ Word Count: 14k

↳ Pairing: Seokjin/Reader, Jimin/Reader

↳ Tags: MC and Seokjin act like an old married couple, so much banter, jealous!Seokjin, dirty talk, begging, MC cries during sex, breathplay, overstimulation, oral (female receiving), tongue fucking, vaginal fingering, sex toys, bondage, possession kink, spanking, did I mention begging? Begging kink? Penetrative sex, MC doesn’t like to sub but Seokjin turns her into a little bitch, angry sex, HEAVY degradation, edging, cumplay

Namjoon | Seokjin | Jungkook

The seat was cold, the good news was your ass had become numb at least an hour ago, regardless, the metal outdoor chair that had been seated in front of the cafe that was well past closing time was anything but comfortable. Your knuckles were nearly blue and you had kept your teeth from chattering. How the guards didn’t bother to ID check you at this hour was honestly god sent. One lonely girl, three in the morning, a silenced beretta strapped to your stomach that was concealed by the hoodie you wore.

You thought at least the weeb kitsune masks you had begged Seokjin to buy would’ve raised some suspicious if not their interest in harassing a young girl late at night. But alas, it was early morning, freezing and you could tell even with an AR-15 in hand they all would much rather be in bed asleep. Surely they would’ve seen your lip twitch in a scoff had it not been for the black medical mask: Sloppy.

No wonder this was like stealing candy from a baby when your target hired shitty club level security. Glancing back down at your phone your eyes flickered up once more to the figure across the narrow street, also seated on a bench, Seokjin never did like the cold either.

You couldn’t even finish typing before fumbling with your phone at the familiar sound of the silenced shot sound, pulling the pistol from its holster you had quickly rolled from your chair to kneel before firing two shots into the men who had hardly any time to witness their coworkers splattered like pancakes on a sunday morning onto the ground.

“Can you fucking wait five seconds!?” You snapped standing up as you pushed the safety back on your firearm, “You’re lucky we’re as well trained as we are.”

Seokjin who had been strolling across the road suddenly flung his arms up in the air, his face shielded by the- in his opinion- ridiculous kitsune mask and medical mask both. But you knew his expressions well enough by now to practically see the snarky, raised brow and incredulous look, “You were the one who wanted to take governors avenue! Seokjin it will be faster.”

Your lips curled in anger as you squinted at him from your skewed, darkened vision of your mask, this little shit was mocking you! “It was! Who the hell wants to fucking scale a cliff at three in the morning!? Not me!” You opened your mouth only to scowl as you twisted around to face the direction you had been slowly commuting.

Technically the more discreet route would’ve been cliffside but that was also under heavy regulation and Yoongi didn’t have enough clarence, or strings to pull to get you an entry card. Therefore scaling would’ve been your only option, but jesus fuck! Three in the morning, nearly negative ten degrees. It would the slowest pace, but safest.

But for fucks sake you killed people for a living who wanted to freeze their ass off cliffside when you had a direct path. It was the most risky and crawling with security but goddamn was it less cold between the buildings and a whole lot closer to your destination, so honestly? The choice was obvious to make, Seokjin just wanted to complain and gripe about not getting his way, to which you’d ignore or tell him to suck it up, like now.

“You know what? Whatever, the longer we stay here the more likely trucks will be on rotation, come on put the bodies in that alley way, snow will cover up the rest of the blood.” You were already dragging the meathead of the group into the narrow alley as Seokjin groaned, kicking at the fresh pile of snow before- most likely rolling his eyes and doing as told.

“Wouldn’t have to put a body in an alleyway if you did what we were supposed too.” Seokjin grumbled under his breath as he slumped the last body down next to it’s new grave for the next...hour at most? Your brain was constantly ticking in the future, that would be enough time...If everything went too plan.

“Oh shut up where’s the fun in that.” You slapped his back earning a grunt from him as you let out a breathy laugh, appearing out of the alley way as you made your way back up the street.

This villa was technically under curfew yet the guards on rotation really just didn’t seem to give a shit, most likely out of not getting paid enough and less loyalty to their boss then to their wives, it was the cars Yoongi said you’d have to watch out for. They were the higher rank and the ones that could track you down if things went from bad to worse.

The good news was that was the last hurdle of this night...well on the outside of the mansion, The lights were all on and you could hear the music blaring even from here, they’d surely be up all night in celebration, Wonho and his cronies at least. Everyone else...well they might get the hint the party was over when you took your leave.

Seokjin and you had parted ways as he made his way to the watch tower that overlooked your room, or well the vacant one you’d be scaling too. The mansion was a little more tricky, guards were suspicious at every rattle and noise they heard and the time slot for you to scale up five floors was going to be crunched.

“Any day now.” You sighed, leaning back against the brick wall, branches uncomfortably sticking and poking every end of your body as you did your best to not breath as any time you did the bushes would rattle, a thin layer of snow was nearly coating your whole body and you couldn’t feel your fingers anymore, “Seriously for fucks sake, what are you doing? Taking a piss off the tower? It’s fucking cold and the little paranoid freak won’t stop staring at my bush everytime I try to move.”

“Staring at your bush?” Seokjin’s voice crackled from your intercom as he tutted, sounding thoroughly unamused and you could almost see his snide lip curl, “You need to go back to languages class.” You only rolled your eyes as he continued, “I just set up camp and got rid of the bodies, you’re underneath your window right?”

You managed to get up against the building and set yourself down but two guards just wouldn’t leave the perimeter despite rotation, glancing up you could see the ledge of your room’s window even from the ground but there was no way you’d make it fifteen feet without a bullet in the ass, or potentially head, “Yeah but those two won’t leave, can you get them out of here?”

“No there’s two over on the east side that could see from the position they’re in, let me wire Yoongi and see if he can help. Just sit tight for now.” You let out a silent groan as you pressed back against the wall.

You couldn’t say you weren’t getting paid enough for this, because in most casing you definitely were but honestly? No amount of money was worth sitting in ass freezing snow waiting for god only knew how long just to get inside. You closed your eyes trying to imagine the inside of the mansion, Wonho was rich, he’d have heating, it would be warm, maybe you could even get a drink if you’re lucky.

You nearly jumped out of your seat at the sound of the two guards who had been on standby suddenly rushing over to the east as if something urgent had happened. Fuck you could only hope Kim hadn’t blown his cover, he was a careful guy, there was no way it was him. Hopefully, he should be in the building by now.

“Yoongi scrambled their gates lock system, you have five minutes before west guards make their way up.” You didn’t need to be told twice as you stood up, wasting no time to utilize the window seals for your climb. Had you not been awake for over seventeen hours this would’ve felt like a piece of cake.

Your arms were still strained however as you paused, groaning as you muttered, “Namjoon better have unlocked that fucking window.” Kim was supposed to prep your room before making his way down to scope out the main floor, he was never sloppy, but being tired, sleep deprived and the first phase of hunger setting in was really making you question your life choices. Or what little choice you were given at least.

“You know if you keep bitching they’re gonna see you.” Seokjin replied, suddenly snorting as he continued, “Actually, bet they will. I’ll finally be free from your constant whining and stubbornness.”

Clacking your tongue you pushed open the window before climbing through, sighing you collapsed on the ground, temporarily closing your eyes as you replied, “Maybe, but your life would be a hell of a lot less fun without me.”

“Well it will be if you don’t get your ass up, come on Y/n we don’t have all day. Some of us don’t get the luxury of going inside.” Seokjin complained as you rolled your eyes, standing up as you shut the window. Turning around you made your way for the closet, pushing the hood down and peeling off your facial wear.

“Boohoo, suck it up. This shouldn’t take longer than a half hour at most.” Stripping down you let your skin bask in the heated warmth of the indoors. Your blood was pulsing and throbbing at the drastic temperature change as you began to dig through the closet. You could only hope Wonho had already drank enough to not be entirely straight on his feet or else this was going to be a lot longer than you wanted.

This however, was a celebration after all, Wonho just successfully took down one of Rio’s biggest militias and long time overseas rival. Everyone would be drunk tonight, and if not they were well on their way.

“Wow you couldn’t even dress for the occasion,” Seokjin whistled low while tutting, as if in disappointment as you stood up straight, glaring over your shoulder at the window where he undoubtedly had the scope of his sniper aimed on your ass, only covered in a plain pair of black thermal underwear in hopes of keeping you warm. It did not.

“I’m here to lynch him Jin, not sleep with him.” You rolled your eyes as you pulled the dress from the closet, pulling it over your shoulders before tugging down the tight material that strapped against your body, your cleavage decently on display, hopefully enough to keep Wonho’s interest compared to all the other, more than likely attractive women to keep his attention. Kicking off your boots and peeling off your socks you could hear Seokjin scoff through the static, “Could’ve fooled me.”

You decided to ignore his comment as you slipped on the heels, you were already fairly tall as it was and if he couldn’t see you before he definitely would now given you were at the same height as a fully grown man, “Alright, I'm on my way to location, keep me updated if rotation for guards changes.”

“On it.”

Shoving your clothes into the bottom of the closet you firmly shut the door before making your way out of the room, the hallway was packed just as you assumed yet no one questioned you stepping out of the room, all to absorbed in their conversations, or the person they were lip locked with. Shuffling through the hallway you made your way to the elevator, the woman inside was almost completely wasted, knocking you to the back where the greasy older gentlemen stood with a slight drunken leer in his eyes while licking his lips at the sight of your breasts.

Grimacing you folded your arms as you ignored the packed, alcohol reeked scene, finally breathing relief at the ding of the door before exiting the elevator.

The main floor wasn’t much better, it had been completely trashed and bottles had littered the floor. Honestly it rivaled that of a much more expensive, and dangerous version of a frat house. Your eyes however weren’t trained on the floor anymore as you scoped the crowd, your eyes landing on the three piece clad blue suit and slicked, styled hair as you swooped in, strutting towards the figure before standing beside him with a hum, “Fancy seeing you here.”

“We were briefed on this in the same room Y/n.” Namjoon glanced at you as he rolled his eyes, ever the pragmatic, glancing at your figure before giving a small nod, “Good to see you didn’t bust your ass trying to get in.”

Your lips twisted into a scowl, you were never known for your scaling skills and maybe that was why you snubbed Seokjin’s idea of using cliffside to get in, regardless, you made it and that was what counted, crossing your arms you said, “And if I had, do you think you could get Wonho to swing the other way?”

To that he rolled his eyes once more. Namjoon and you...had a long history one that was naturally shared with Seokjin of course. He was the leader of your group...well...as much as he could be. Operations were rarely held as a full team but usually he’d always lead them when they were. You and Seokjin were the first two to be assembled onto the team, or the first to meet Namjoon at least. You had met him before when you were younger though, briefly.

Not only was Namjoon a good assault expert and spy but he was like the glue that kept everyone from killing each other. He had your respect and that was the highest honor someone could ever receive from you. He was an excellent leader.

“You are the most stale person I’ve ever met,” You muttered under your breath, his lack of banter however was always something that made you grumble, he was dry, pragmatic and could always be relied on to get the job done. But where was the jazz? Where was the spice? The drama? Talk about boring, “Is the target on sight?”

“Back corner of the room on the right. We have company.” Namjoon tutted, his tone of voice suddenly on edge making you stand up straighter, glancing around in search for what he meant. What you found however was the familiar sight of burgundy hair and a charismatic smile that could rival the sun.

Squinting your eyes slightly you felt confusion suddenly cloud your thoughts at the unexpected appearance of your interrogation expert, “What is Hoseok doing here?” You glanced at Namjoon curiously but his expression told you he was just as in the dark, and his brooding eyes let you know he was less than happy about it.

“Who knows,” His eyes flickered to the ground, his icy glare enough to freeze someone had he looked up, “Park loves keeping us in the dark.”

It was the truth, in all fairness. Park almost always used the whole team for an operation yet never told one another, just leaving you all in the dark as the puzzle pieces fell together. You supposed you didn’t have a reason to know why Hoseok was here, but a heads up would’ve been nice had things gone sideways.

This was how Park ran though, it’s what made his business, his elite group from potentially selling him out and turning on him. You can’t leak an operation if you don’t know who else is apart of it. He always had more than one motive for something like this. You knew he did, you just couldn’t figure out what.

You shrugged, glancing at Hoseok’s figure one last time before letting your eyes slowly flicker to Wonho, he was still cramped up in the corner with his friends and right hand man, all laughing and looking about as drunk as you had hoped. Good.

“Where’s your little protege at?” Your lips curled slightly as you quipped.

Namjoon couldn’t stop the snort from escaping his lips as he curved an eyebrow at you, flecks of amusement in his eyes, “Sitting at home probably beating the shit out of a punching bag. Made him sit this one out, it’s too important and I don’t think he has enough experience for something like infiltration yet.”

Humming you glanced back at your target, “Not a lot of faith there huh. He’s never gonna gain experience if you don’t let him.” It was ironic for you to be the one saying that given he hated your guts for an unbeknownst reason but you did feel for the kid. He had potential, he just needed to hone it, and maybe mature a little.

“Maybe when he doesn’t threaten to choke slam you anytime you’re in the same room.” Namjoon replied as you threw up your hands, you couldn’t help it. Well maybe you could, you were well known for instigating when someone was in a bad mood but still, you had to keep yourself on your toes somehow.

“Alright fair enough,” You surrendered with a sigh, “Let’s just get this over with, stand here any longer and Seokjin is gonna be up my ass about how he’s cold. You should head for rendezvous, I got things from here.”

Namjoon only nodded as he replied, “Copy. Good luck L/n.” With that Namjoon took a step back before disappearing into the crowd, leaving you alone as you subtly kept your eyes on your target as you began your trek over to his location. Lingering around the bar as you shifted your expression into a far more pleasant one. It took a few more minutes but you had caught Wonho’s eyes just as you had hoped, tossing him a shy smile as you glanced away.

It was almost too easy getting his attention, you had played this little game for only a few more minutes before you watched him abruptly dismiss his friends as he walked your way. You had to drop your gaze back to the floor the glass you held still completely full despite acting as if you were casually drinking.

“I don’t think we’ve ever met, the names Lee Wonho.” Wonho had smoothly introduced himself as he loosened his tie, his eyes not leaving your figure as you bashfully glanced up, resisting the urge to let your lips cave into a full blown smirk.

Rather you kept the seemingly innocent look on your eyes as you smiled sheepishly, “O-oh...I...I didn’t realize you were the owner of the estate, Choi Dahyun, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

It was like a fish and reel and Wonho was practically racing towards the dry land as he wolfishly grabbed your hand you had extended, pressing it to his lips as he smirked, “The pleasure is all mine.” You had to resist the urge to cringe as you smiled once more. Easing into conversation with possibly one of the biggest underworld leaders at the moment.

It took months to set this up, to get to this moment in time. Finally, you’d be able to rest once this was over. It was almost amusing to think about, Wonho was a man in his mid forties, a whole empire behind him that had been passed down to him by his grandfather, he dealt in mafia affairs, one of the biggest narcotic dealers on the blackmarket and his stock of stolen military weaponry was uncanny. And yet, he was about to meet his demise by a pretty face and a set of tits. The irony was something you’d revel in for days and something that would look shiny on your resume.

It was almost too easy getting Wonho up to your room, you had even kept your eyes peeled, feeling as if this was too easy. Did he know? You could feel the small sliver of paranoia in the back of your head. Did Wonho know who you were? Was this apart of his plan? You couldn’t help but wonder. At this point though, did you have a choice? It was now or never.

You nearly grimaced at the way Wonho’s lips practically sucked against yours, his teeth messily gnashing as you pulled him into the room. The door shutting behind him as he whirled you around pressing you into the wall.

What you didn’t expect as your airflow to suddenly be cut off with a gag, Wonho only pulled away enough to look at you, smug and sneering as he hummed, “Nice try but I know Park’s bitches when I see them.” You gave an ice cold smile as you winced at the squeeze of his hand on your neck, “Why did he send you huh? Were you looking for the storage of narcotics? The data we hacked from Jang? Or did you just wanna get your little panties wet with the best?”

You let out a squeezed scoff, “You think you’re some hot shit don’t you? Well let me tell you, trying to be mr badass and take me on by yourself was the worst thing your dick driven ego has done yet.”

“Uh Y/n we have a problem.” You could hear Seokjin on your intercom, “I’m seeing a big head count on the eastern end of the perimeter, I think the bodies from earlier might have been discovered, are you almost done with Wonho?”

You could hardly focus on his voice though when you were thrown across the room, wheezing as you were knocked against the dress, falling to the floor with a thud as your body ached in pain, “You underestimate me little girl. You think I’m the leader of the most powerful group on the planet? I’ve already crushed Yun’s little militia, next I’ll sweep Jang out from under his feet and when I’m done with him? I’ll fucking string Park on his ass for his little boy to watch. I could be god-”

You jolted at the bullet pierced through his head, blood splattering the ground and leaking from the now grotesque state of what was once left of the man-god Wonho, or so he proclaimed himself to be. Sitting still for a total of ten seconds before you finally spoke, “Thanks- but I really wanted that on my resume…”

“Can you be grateful for once in your life? Get dressed and fucking light the place up we need to go now. There’s a helio on sight and I think Wonho was storing a good portion of his army in the warehouse.”

Standing up you made quick work of your dress and heels before opening the closet and dressing in your outfit once more, your lips curled into a smile at the sight of the small bottle of gasoline Namjoon had left as a parting gift. Perfect.

Pulling the hoodie up you popped the lid off the bottle before splashing gasoline throughout the room, opening up the window you poured the rest down the wall, your nose wrinkling at the pheromone smell before quickly throwing the bottle over your shoulder and scaling the wall. You could hear yelling and gunshots in the distant causing your adrenaline to spike as you swore under your breath.

Pulling the lighter from your pocket you lit up the gasoline, the fiery path licking at its substance as it spread up the wall and into the room. Quickly you glanced each direction before hurrying back to the watch tower. What was the gunfire from? And furthermore you couldn’t hear the helio.

“I’m headed for rendezvous, you good?” You had quickly pushed yourself up against the wall. Holding your breath as the two guards hurried past towards the west side, what happened?

“Already halfway there, you better hurry up before I decide to leave you.” Seokjin tutted as you scoffed, was that a challenge? He knew you could never say no to that.

Getting to the plane was already difficult as it was, the place was crawling with guards and security and by the time your room had exploded the whole place was being evacuated. It was an absolute mess. But the large crowd of panicked civilians gave you a big out to escape through the crowd on the bright side.

You couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief when you saw the plane, Seokjin leaned up against the set of stairs in place scrolling on his phone, “Did you hear about Hyuna trying to get into Jimin’s pants last night?”

Peeling both masks off as your hoodie knocked down you looked at him incredulously as you both stepped up into the plane, nodding at the guard who shut the door as you huffed, “We literally just finished killing one of Korea’s biggest crime lords and you’re fucking concerned about who Hyuna is sleeping with?”

“It’s a valid concern!” Seokjin replied indignantly, pushing his own hoodie off before throwing his masks onto the other couch, collapsing on the couch you both stood in front of as he groaned, “Should be for you too since Jimin is the one trying to get in your panties.”

You groaned at his words, sluggishly flopping down next to him. Seokjin had been incessant on bringing up the younger college boys crush on you the past three weeks and just as every other time you still didn’t understand what he was getting at. Your body involuntarily curling against his own as Seokjin pulled you close. His chin resting on your head as you dug your nose against his neck, “Shut up.”

Seokin only snorted, “You know I’m right.” You could only let out a yawn, ignoring his probing. The kind he did when something bugged him but he never wanted to outright say it. It had been like this since you had the unfortunate luck to garnering Jimin’s undying attention. You had never pried though as to why it bugged him. At least not until he got on your nerves.

Regardless, you were glad the day was finished. Wonho had finally been lynched and you would get the well deserved rest you had earned.

“Shoot her.”

Your heart was racing and it hurt to blink. When did things come to this? No… you always knew this would be the outcome. Everyday of your miserable existence was spent in preparation for this, all the blood that stained your hands, all the screams that would forever haunt your memories, you knew it would come to this. You just didn’t think you’d be on the losing side. If there was one thing you were never prepared for, it was him who’d pull the trigger on you.

“I said: shoot her.” He snarled, the gun aimed at your forehead had been shaking, god you remembered this so many times.

Glancing up weakly his expression was one you’d never forget, the way Seokjin’s eyes were blown out, his knuckle white from how harshly he gripped the gun, adrenaline in his own veins forcing it’s view into life as it shook. He looked horrified, as if living the horrors he’d dream of every night, “Shoot her Kim and you could go places. You’ve come so far, you’ve already killed so many...What’s one more?”

You swallowed thickly, fear shooting through your veins at the way Seokjin’s expression morphed, his fear suddenly dampening as if curious by his words, his eyes leaving yours as he turned his head ever so slightly, as if listening to his every word, “Seokjin jesus christ don’t listen to him. Please.”

“Do it. Pull the trigger Kim, just another faceless person to add to the body count.”

Fear twisted onto your face at the way he tightened his grip on the gun, slowly his lips curled into a smile, almost sneering down at you. Of course it would end like this. The way it was supposed to end, “Better luck next time L/n.”

The scream in your throat had ripped out as you shot up from the sprawled on position in bed, the wet substance of tears dripping down your cheeks despite the constant tremor in your body, your breath shaky as you ran a frantic hand in your hair. It was just a dream! It was just a dream! Seokjin would never do that to you. He never did.

You jumped at the sound of the door opening, a small whimpered sob escaping your lips at the sight of Seokin’s sleep ridden appearance, having heard the familiar cry through the walls as he sat down on the bed, wordless as you practically flew into his arms, a hiccup escaping your lips as you burrowed into the safety of his neck.

“Shhh, it was just a dream.” Seokjin hummed gently, lips pressing into your hair as you choked out a soft sob, “Was it the same one?” Wordlessly you nodded as you forced the ugly sob down your throat, tears silently treading down your cheeks as Seokjin laid you both down, his arms securely around you as he tucked you away against him.

Your tears slowly began to cease at the feeling of his hand stroking your back, occasionally tangling and playing with your hair as he continued to pepper your head with soft kisses soothingly, your heart rate had finally begun to slow down as Seokjin murmured, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No.” You spat out, your voice raspy, anger twisting in your veins despite your watery eyes, your hands had balled into fists against the white shirt he wore, “I hope he’s rotting in hell.” Seokjin only sighed, pulled away a little as he laid his head on the pillow you both shared.

His eyes had that soft gleam in them, the kind he’d only reserve for you in moments like this, when it was four in the morning and you’d have to be up soon for debrief, “You know I never intended on shooting you, right?”

Your eyes dropped to his chest as you felt his long fingers brush your near cold tears from your cheeks, “Yeah, but that doesn’t change the fact that he still tried to convince you too,” You were well aware of the bitter tone your voice held as you bit out, “Wish I could’ve been the one to kill him. I would’ve been a hell of a lot less merciful.” You snarled anger twisting in your eyes at the mental image, “He’d be begging for me to kill him.”

“Y/n…” Seokjin could feel a piece of his heart chip at the borderline insanity in your voice, the kind he and you both tiptoed on every day, you had been put through such a horrendous childhood, it amazed him Park hadn’t put you both in a mental ward yet, or at least in therapy, ”He’s dead.” Seokjin cupped your cheeks, his gaze penetrating your soul the way it always would in these late, dark hours, “You need to let it go. Holding on to this isn’t going to do anything for you.”

You felt your lips quiver, a small scoff escaping your mouth at your own patheticness, a new fresh stream of tears trickling down your cheeks as you murmured, “I wish I knew how.” You knew he was right, that you needed to let the resentment that had festered in your mind for your childhood, the horror you went through, you needed to let it all go. But how? Where could you begin? There was just so much. And it wasn’t like you could go to a regular therapist for this.

“Shhh.” Seokjin cooed softly, pulling you close to him as you let out another soft sob, curling against his warm body for safety.

The only person you would ever trust on this planet, you both had gotten on one another's nerves now more than anything. But Seokjin was all you had left in this world, you’d never let go of him, “Just try to fall back asleep, I’ll be here if you wake up.”

Your eyes were already falling heavy against your cheeks, the smell of strawberry body wash he insisted on using lulling you back to sleep, you’d be okay. You’d be okay as long as Seokjin was with you.

“So, rough night?” The boldness in your casual words, as if you hadn’t been sniffling and bawling your eyes out last night, was immense, if not annoying to everyone in the room, all dead eyes with a lack of sleep. You raised your brows at the silence you were met with at the oval dining table everyone sat at as you took a sip of the motor oil Yoongi considered coffee.

The only person who had been absent at the table was Taehyung- who had been getting cozy with a governor's wife in Peru, not out of actual interest for her. But for his job at seduction and information retrieval, he could undoubtedly have everyone their knee’s for him in the matter of ten seconds if he wanted. The power of being hot and knowing it.

Namjoon only sighed as he facepalmed, his protege though- the one with the permanent brooding scowl on his face ever since he laid eyes on you let his face screw into an even more sour look, as if that was even possible.

You couldn’t stop the snort from escaping your lips as your eyes met, “We’re not here for small talk.” Jungkook suddenly snarled at you, as if breathing the same air as you pissed him off. It probably did.

You whistled as you leaned back in your seat, thoroughly amused at the way he gritted his teeth and snarled like a rabid dog, “Aite damn. You don’t have to give me such a constipated look though- I mean seriously, you look like you’re about to bust the fattest shit since birth.” The gurgled choke came from Yoongi- the only person who could appreciate your dry yet somewhat cheeky sense of humor.

Jungkook suddenly stood up from his seat, slamming his hands on the table as he growled, everyone not bothering to intervene, as they all knew this was the only form of entertainment they’d ever get when you were all in the same room, “Is this some fucking game too you? Park has never called for all of us to be in the same fucking room. And all you can do is crack a joke?”

You clacked your tongue as you leaned back in your seat, such a hot head...Namjoon’s protege was something else. Not that you minded though, at least not completely, it meant you had someone to provoke meanwhile until Park could be benevolent enough and make time for you all, “He’s never called us together since you’ve been here,” Your eyes cut slightly and your words pointed, “This isn’t the first time and it won’t be the last. Now get your panties out of a twist, me and Seokjin just lynched Wonho, whatever this is, can’t be more difficult than that.”

Jungkook was, the newest addition to the team by a little over a year. You didn’t know the details and furthermore you didn’t care.

As long as Namjoon trusted him you would as well, as you did trust his judgement. He was pragmatic and had a good read on people and if he thought Jungkook was worth taking in, then you’d imagine he had a good reason to believe so.

And the more you worked with Jungkook- against his will, you could understand why. He was a remarkable marksman and a hell of a shot, but he was also ill tempered, foul mouthed and had the maturity of an eleven year old boy, dare you mention it made sense given he was the youngest out of you all at the staggering infant age of 21.

Jungkook would have chipped a tooth at how hard he grinded his teeth together, glaring you down as if you’d explode upon contact, his childishness never ceased to amaze or amuse you, his sour expression almost made you laugh. Fortunately, it was a good thing you still had some self restraint left, being ever the observant and noticing the bulge in his pants you were almost eighty seven percent positive that was not a boner.

You didn’t think Jungkook would kill you, but you wouldn’t put it past him to take out a kneecap if you pushed enough buttons.

The doors, thankfully opened to the sight of Park Woojin, CEO and billionaire to one of the world's largest corporations, he was well known for his reserved yet charming nature and was almost always doing good works, funding for charities and such. He also just so happened to be your boss, the one who owned his own elite team of assassins and special unit for his every underworld need at the drop of a hat. He was untouchable. He was the devil in a three piece suit, walking in as if he had owned your lives.

It only served to make you angry that he did. Jungkook was a talented kid, he was smart and a good shot, you could commend him all day long- though never to his face as he didn’t need an ego the size of Park’s- but if there was one thing you couldn’t understand, it was why in gods name did he willingly sign his life away.

On long nights you and Seokjin often mused the question; why would he do something so stupid? It was different with the rest of you, you didn’t get a choice in doing this, being who you were, Park did own you, he owned all of you. And for Jungkook to just...sign the contract. You couldn’t wrap your head around the concept. He didn’t just sell his soul to the devil, he gave it to Park on a silver platter.

“Good you’re all here.” Park pulled the seat out at the end of the table as he sat down, everyone had quickly straightened in their seats…besides you, too tired and not enough of a will to live anymore as you stayed slumped in your seat with said cup of motor oil in hand, “I have places to be so I’ll make this quick. L/n and Kim have terminated Wonho Thursday early morning. I’ve only found out last night that they were actually in deal with Jang.”

His dark eyes suddenly pierced on you, “You said Wonho was planning on destroying them correct,” You gave a brief nod, “My thoughts are he was attempting to earn their trust and take them out from the inside. Jang refuses to believe that and is out for redemption at the moment. You’re all to keep a low profile for now. They don’t know I was the one who sent you and right now we’re under suspect. No one is going on any missions or operations until this is resolved, understood?”

Everyone gave a nod yet no one spoke a word making Park stand up as he nodded, “Good. You’re free to stay or go but make sure you’re discreet in public. Especially you Y/n, you were the one inside the mansion last seen with Wonho.”

You only yawned with a nod, not taking his words too serious. This wasn’t the first time this had happened either. And if Jang seriously thought his shotty guys could take you out he was an actual idiot. Or at least that’s what you told yourself because you honestly didn’t have the energy to care anymore. Briefly you noticed Jungkook seemed to tense and Namjoon had shot him a look making you and Seokjin both glance at one another, as if catching the same moment.

At least there would be something to gossip about later.

Most people assumed by your dry, snarky and cynical personality you were above mundane things such as gossip. They were wrong in every way possible. What could possibly be more fun than to laugh at others misfortune and continue to spread false information, you and Seokjin took delight in hearing about any sort of campus drama, teammate drama, anything you guys could get your filthy hands on for discussion.

Hoseok was the first to jump out of his seat with a groan as soon as Park shut the door to the room, “Could’ve just sent us a text. Thanks for lighting the whole fucking mansion on fire by the way.” He sent you a sharp smile, yet when you looked closely you could see the minor flecks of annoyance that could cloud any sunshine smile he gave.

You clacked your tongue as you shot him finger guns, ignoring his annoyance because in all honesty if he wanted to get pissy with someone then he should’ve mentioned it to Park in the five minutes you briefly saw him, “Not my fault Park didn’t let us know we’d have a little imp crawling up everyone's ass last night. And here I had hoped you got toasted with the rest of that place.”

Hoseok couldn’t stop the laugh from escaping his lips, though annoyed, he was also one of the few who didn’t mind you. Well, most of the team didn’t mind you honestly. Hoseok in particular enjoyed word spar with you and was possibly the only person who never took it personally, “I’m like a roach babydoll-”

“Gross and ridden with diseases?” You cringed, initially realizing where he was taking the sentence but unable to resist another potshot.

“Unkillable.” Hoseok sent a wink, he was about as much of a playboy as Taehyung was, in all honesty, but the fact that he had really likened himself to a roach was both, cringeworthy and ballsy at the same time.

Seokjin lifted his lip slightly in disgust as he scoffed, “Babydoll and roach don’t belong in the same sentence.” He stood up as well, stretching out with a yawn, his hair dusting over his bangs and his eyes just as tired as everyone else's yet you could notice he seemed tensed and a little annoyed for reasons unknown.

Hoseok only let the smile curve on his lips again, pushing his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants as he replied, “And Y/n would still jump in my bed if she went home with me.” You indignantly parted your lips to reply you most certainly would not. But then again...No words came out of your mouth as you considered, honestly, who were you to object to that?

“I...yeah okay fair enough.” You had come to terms with it, mutually agreeing that you would definitely sleep with him in such a scenario while watching Seokjin grit his teeth, looking at you sharply though you didn’t understand why.

Hoseok sent you a wink before exiting the room making you snicker, you were a shameless person, you wouldn’t lie and pretend like you were offended by his words when he was right.

Shrugging you stood up to join Seokjin as he rolled his eyes, choosing to say nothing though you could tell something snarky was on the tip of his tongue. You supposed you’d have to confront this new behavioral change eventually, just not right now when everyone was curiously eyeing you both.

“Y/n! It’s so good to see you!”

You froze at the angelic, sweet voice. All you wanted was a warm croissant roll and something sweet to drink. Was that too much to ask for anymore?

Coughing you whirled around to see the beautiful face of Park Jimin, his smile precious and sweet and eyes were practically sparkling at the sight of you. Why, why did he have to like the grungy, dead eyed kid that didn’t even go to college? You only hung around for the overly expensive coffee at this cutesy cafe.

You see, the problem wasn’t Jimin, well it was, but it really wasn’t because of him. He was the sweetest soul you had ever met and for some reason, had the most heart melting crush on you, except it was one sided.

Awkwardly, given he was your bosses son. If Park ever caught wind Jimin was associating with you, you were positive not even god could help you in that situation.

You still couldn’t see it. The fact that they were actually related. Jimin was nothing like his father, he was sweet and gentle, he’d probably cry if he ever had to hurt a fly, let alone a human.

And that was the saddest part.

Jimin wasn’t even aware of the empire he would soon inherit. The girl he had a crush on that he’d have to string up like a puppet and use for his benefit. You’d have to watch his father crush every ounce of innocence he had. The idea, actually hurt to think about.

You couldn’t help but wonder some days, if his smile would be the same after his father told him you were a slave assassin, that you had killed over hundreds of people and tortured plenty of others when Hoseok needed an extra hand, would he still like you when he saw the blood that stained your hands and the wrath in your veins?

Jimin, was the only person on the planet, that could possibly make you feel ashamed for who you were, what you did for a living. Jimin was like the sweet humanity you had been void of your whole life. You liked his presence, you genuinely could see yourself with him. Happy. But that was a reality you’d never indulge in. No this wasn’t a fairytale, and you weren’t going to act like there was a happy ending for you when there wasn’t.

“Don’t you have class?” You didn’t mean to come off as standoffish, but you could never fully get to know Jimin, at least comfortably. Furthermore, as much as you enjoyed his company you couldn’t help but wonder if Park knew about it already. About this, about his son’s interest in you. Was he waiting for the right moment? It was difficult to say but you didn’t want to risk it, you could toe the line with Park all day long but you knew when it was time to straighten up. The sooner you could shoo Jimin out the door the better.

Jimin raised his brows slightly, the soft tufts of honey blonde hair covering his forehead as he tilted his head in confusion, “It’s winter break Y/n. Are you busy…? I’m sorry if I interrupted something.”

You could almost feel invisible sweat bead down your neck as you gave a tense smile, “No of course not! I just uh…” You glanced away, unsure of how to tell him the truth, you were avoiding him like the plague in some false hope he’d get the hint and stop coming around, “Sorry, you know I’m not in college. I don’t know off weeks for shit.” You offered a weak, apologetic smile, accepting your fate that you’d just have to entertain him for a few minutes.

At least until Seokjin got tired of waiting for his french hot chocolate you were holding and you knew he got pissy if you took to long at the counter. Jimin only laughed softly, that pretty smile on his plump pink lips and his nose was red from the cold weather outside, “It’s okay, going to college isn’t for everyone. But that’s why I’m here, I…” He trailed off for a second and you could vaguely see the pink dusting his cheeks that couldn’t have been from the cold weather, “I noticed you haven’t been here in awhile. I was almost sad at the idea you were avoiding me…”

“Why would I avoid you?” You gave a strained laugh, forcing your mind to not list every single reason on the long list in your head, “I was just out of town visiting family. But uh- I’m back now. I have some time off from work too so it’s nice.”

Jimin’s eyes suddenly lit up, the way they always did when you brought up your personal life. It wasn’t a secret he was curious about you more then he should’ve been and you would always shut down questions that borderlined too close to the truth on who you were.

So to see you volunteering information like your job and family had Jimin obviously excited. You couldn’t help but mentally cringed at your lie. If only he knew you didn’t have a family and your job was far from artsy and cute like his major in photography.

“Oh? I’m glad to hear then! I sometimes get worried I mean...I know you have your roommate but I just can’t help but get worried if you get lonely, you can always call me you know.” Jimin gave a sweet smile causing you to shift in your spot, glancing away as you gave a cough, rubbing the back of your neck as you shrugged.

“I really am fine...think of me like the hermit on the mountaintop- besides me and Seokjin have known each other since we were kids, I’ll be dead before he crawls out of my ass,” You huffed making Jimin laugh once more, his eyes crinkled like little crescent moons and his whole being radiated nothing but warmth and gentleness.

“Y/n,” You jumped at the sound of the devil, Seokjin held your upperarm like his life depended on it making you wince as you shot him a look, “Hey Jimin!” He gave a tensed smile before leaning a little closer to you, “Y/n we’re supposed to head to the grocery store, do you have our drinks?”

You furrowed your brows in confusion at his tense tone, you never went with him to get groceries either…”Uh...yeah?” In your line of work you never openly questioned him in these moments before shooting Jimin an apologetic smile, “Sorry....See you around though.”

Jimin looked a little disappointed, his face falling slightly making your stomach sucker punch as his eyes flickered to Seokjin’s hand on you, “Oh...of course! I’ll see you later Y/n, take care.” You couldn’t even hear Jimin finish his sentence as Seokjin dragged you out of the cafe, your lips twisting into a snarl at his heavy manhandling.

“What the fuck is your problem?” You dug your feet into the ground as you glared at him, you were waiting for him to interrupt but he didn’t have to drag you out of the building! And what the hell kind of excuse was getting the groceries? You were supposed to stay in the cafe and enjoy your drink instead of staying outside in jack frost’s asshole.

Seokjin only dragged you along the street, gritting his teeth as his eyes flickered around, his voice low and stern as he snapped lowly, “Guy seven o’clock by the entrance hasn’t took his eyes off you since we entered the building. Call me paranoid but given what just happened I’m not risking it.”

“Oh for christ’s sake.” You dug your heels into the ground as you forced him to stop, groaning as you threw your arms up in the air, “No seriously what the fuck is your problem? I don’t give two shits about the guy who was checking out my ass from where I stood, guys can’t even breath in my direction without you getting all pissy anymore.”

Seokjin suddenly glared down at you his eyes darkening a little as he grabbed your arm, “Stop fucking shouting,” His growled with a low voice, “Let’s just get home you’re being delusional.”

Your lips parted in offense, brows shooting up as you scoffed. You could endure a lot, you could be called a frigid bitch when you turned down guys, you could be called a whore, a slut and everything else in between. But you would not stand for being called delusional when you knew damn well you were not.

“Delusional!?” You shouted purposely as he dragged you along the sidewalk, “I’m not the one who looks like something crawled up his ass and died just for talking to Jimin. You did the same shit yesterday morning at that meeting too! Just fucking admit you have a problem and tell me what it is!”

You nearly yelped as you were shoved into a back alley, your drink dropped and your back pressed into the cold brick wall and Seokjin towering over your as he shoved a hand over your mouth, You scowled while looking up at him as he mouthed for you to ‘shut the fuck up’. You could hear muffled talking and the distinct sound of a radio before crunching footsteps walking past, “Fuck I just saw her.” “Shut up and spread out she’s around somewhere.”

You swallowed keeping your heartbeat steady as Seokjin let go of your mouth, quietly grabbing your hand before you both began to further down the alleyway, “Are you done being a drama queen?” Seokjin grunted quietly, glancing at both ends before dragging you to the right and popping back out onto a main side street, you shouldn’t be too far from your apartment but you’d need to be careful if you didn’t want to be followed.

“This conversation isn’t over.” You snapped back quietly, letting Seokjin lead you to the safety of your shared home. The rest of the trip back was silent and most people glanced at you both like you were two delirious crackheads and to be fair you felt like one too with how much sneaking Seokjin made you both do.

Sighing you opened the door to the apartment walking inside as you tucked your tongue into your cheek, choosing to stay silent as Seokjin carefully shut the door before locking it, his eyes peeled on the small glass panel that revealed the outside world as you crossed your arms. Sighing he back away from the door as he stretched out, “At least we’re stocked up on food, those guys will probably be around for the next few days, which means no going outside.”

He gave you a pointed look as if having already forgotten what you had said while outside. Seokjin paused after a moment, noticing your lack of banter and complaint before honing in on your rarely serious expression.

Sure you looked dead most days, and most would assume you were always serious and both glaring at everyone, which was partially true. But most didn’t see your furrowed brows and lips pressed together as if focused on Seokjin’s figure alone, “Oh jesus christ…” Seokjin groaned as he turned around walking towards the kitchen as he ran a hand through his hair, “I don’t care who you choose to sleep with Y/n, it’s not that deep.”

Your lips twisted into a scowl as you followed behind him, glaring holes into those stupid broad shoulders of his. He could act like he didn’t care all he wanted but you knew something was up and obviously it needed to be addressed before it bled over into your work life, which could potentially be fatal for you or him, or possibly both of you, “Don’t feed me that line of bullshit Seokjin! You’ve been broody for the past month, whatever is bothering you just fucking tell me.”

Whipping around Seokjin’s eyes suddenly squinted into a glare as if warning you to drop the subject, his jaw beginning to clench as he growled lowly, “Who says I’m brooding? That’s you’re trope not mine. Drop it Y/n, when have you ever cared before?”

You suddenly stepped back at his venom like words, your jaw dropping before you felt anger shooting through your veins that heroin had nothing on as your fists suddenly bawled up. How dare he say that! After everything you both have been through? How dare he fucking act like he had the right to say that! “Where the fuck did you get that idea? Are you dead in the head?” You snarled, stepping closer into his bubble as you shoved at his chest, “We’ve been through over ten years of utter hell and you have the fucking nerve to say I don’t care!? I’ve done nothing but try to talk to you and you won’t stop bitching and acting like you’re fine when you obviously aren’t!”

“And when I said drop it you won’t fucking listen. You’re so stubborn you know that?” Seokjin snapped, suddenly stepping closer as he backed you against the wall, “You only bothered to ask because it fucking suited you in the moment- don’t you act like some saint- like you actually didn’t notice beforehand. You’re only asking because I took you away from your idiotic dream boat Park-fucking-Jimin.”

You couldn’t even believe the words you were hearing at the moment. You could admit he was right, you had noticed beforehand but you didn’t assume it was detremential, or that it was something he even wanted to talk about it. And fair enough, you should’ve asked anyways but seriously!? Bringing Jimin into this was such a low blow, “Do you ever hear yourself right now!? What does Jimin even have to do with this!? I’m fucking tired of being dragged away, glared at with snide comments anytime I interact with another male, so I’m sorry it just so happened to be with Jimin, and who the hell gave you the right to dicitate who I like and who I don’t huh?”

“Oh so you do like him?” Seokjin accused vehemently, anger burning in his eyes as he lunged down, caging you between his arms, his breath hot and nose close to brushing against yours, “Like him, when he doesn’t even know who the fuck you are? What you do for a living? That you’re his dad’s personal assassin at beckon call? I’ve known you my whole life, have had your back for fucking years Y/n, years. I know who you are and I don’t give shit- I never did. So why are you out daydreaming about shit that won’t happen? Can’t happen? I won’t fucking let you run off on some childish notion and get killed because of it okay!? You are all I have in this goddamn world and I’m not about to lose you!”

Your lips had been sealed shut and your pupils dilated as your head pressed back against the wall as you glanced at him, he...he what? It was quiet for a moment but Seokjin’s intense gaze didn’t falter, as if waiting for you to argue back. As if anticipating your resistment, yet it never came. Instead, you let out a snort, as if realizing what this was about and why your partner had to be a dramatic premadonna, “Are you seriously jealous? For real?”

You watched him part his lips several times like a fish out of water before snarling, “I’m not jealous! I’m just being your babysitter before you do something dumb.”

Clacking your lips you sighed exasperatedly, you should’ve known something like this was going to happen eventually, “I never said I liked Jimin, and where the hell did you get the idea I was gonna run off with him? Where? Do you honestly think I’d leave? I mean, seriously.”

Seokjin’s face was flushed now, looking both embarrassed but too angry to admit it as he clenched his jaw once more, his hands suddenly grabbing at your hips with a possessive squeeze he was well known for when he became insecure.

“You look at him like some doe eyed damsel in distress,” He growled, stepping closer, his hot breath against your ear stirring your body as you felt his hands slide to your ass, giving it a harsh squeeze.

“And I’m the delusional one,” You rolled your eyes, ignoring the way warmth quickly spread between your legs, “Seokjin, we’re partners. We have and always will be. Maybe the idea is nice but you're right.” You let out a breathy moan at the feeling of his lips suddenly attaching to your neck, giving a nip at your skin in warning as if not evening wanting to hear about you liking the idea of being with Jimin, “You’re the only person I have left too dumbass, the only person I trust, you’re just as stuck with me as I am you.”

Seokjin immediately hauled you up against the wall, the muscles packed against his arms bulging against his white shirt as he held you up, tongue hot and lathing against your neck before letting his lips drag against the shell of your ear, “Never said I was complaining dipshit. Im gonna fuck you in every single room tonight,” You’re lips quivered with a quiet moan at his hips thrusting into yours, his thick hardened cock restrained in his jeans brushing against your thigh, “Make you forget everything except my name.”

“God you’re so possessive.” You sighed as he kept hold of you, moving you to the counter to set you down before grabbing at the hem of your shirt, peeling it up as his lips moved down your neck. You could feel a brief smile on Seokjin’s lips, as if knowing you were right, yet not bothering to apologize. It was okay, you didn’t want one anyways.

When you knew him your whole life, it was easy to say this wasn’t the first time this had happened, whether it was him or you. Sleeping together was both convenient and safe. You trusted one another more than anyone else, it made sense you’d keep one another satisfied sexually.

Seokjin made quick work of your bra before attaching his plump lips to your right bud making you let out a louder moan, his hips slotting between your thighs as you squirmed beneath him, your cunt already sticky and clinging to your panties, “Mmm fuck, you like it though, I know you do. Always moaning like a little bitch when I say you’re mine.” Seokjin gave a cocky smirk as he squeezed on your left breast before sucking against your right bud again, your breathy laugh mixed with another moan.

He was right, you did think it was hot, there was nothing like angry rough sex at three in the morning, rough whispered words saying who you belonged too while the bed rocked into the wall, “Well if you’d just fucking admit you’re jealous this wouldn’t happen.” You wheezed at the feeling of his hand wrapping around your neck, squeezing just enough to make you gag at the expense of your airflow, “You know choking me is a good way to get a roundhouse kick in the gut. It activates my fight or flight response.”

Seokjin glanced up at you, his eyes lidded and smug as he dragged his tongue down your stomach, edging against the hem of your pants as he loosened his grip on your neck, “Can you not be sexy for five minutes?”

“Impossible.” You sighed dramatically as you leaned your head uncomfortably against the cabinet that held all of your mugs, acting as if this was an everyday topic rather than him about to eat the soul from your pussy, “We aren’t newly weds Seokjin, is foreplay really that necessary?”

Seokjin scoffed between your thighs, popping the button on your pants and unzipping them before curling his hands beneath the material as he peeled them off along with your panties. The cold air of the apartment was enough to make your soaked cunt all the more excited.

It had been too long since Seokjin had properly fucked you and your body was ready to wither beneath him, covered in sweat and cum from round after round of sex, “It isn’t when you’re that easy to make wet, look at that cunt,” He licked his lips, grabbing your thighs as he put them over his shoulders as he leaned down, a small whimper leaving your lips as your pussy lips spread and your wet cunt on display as he licked along your inner thigh, “So fucking wet and we haven’t even gotten started yet.”

Your lips twitched in annoyance at him as you replied, “Well if someone wasn’t so picky about where we had sex this woul-Oh!” You let out a high pitched moan as Seokjin wrapped those damn plump lips around your sensitive clit, having not been touched in over two weeks making your eyes snap shut at such intense attention, “Oh fuck…” You moaned softly as your hands tangled in his fluffy tufts of black hair.

“Yeah that’s what I thought,” Seokjin hummed before letting his tongue drag back against your clit once more, your hips eagerly rolling along his tongue as you felt his hand follow up your thigh until his fingers began to tease your entrance, “Mmm fuckin’ mine, bet Jimin wishes he was buried in this little cunt right now.”

You couldn’t even properly respond as Seokjin pushed a finger inside you, your walls clenching as his tongue lathed against the sweet spot of your swollen clit making you yelp as you kicked against his back, “F-fuck, Jin.”

Pleasure was rapidly spiking through your body and it was nearly pathetic how quick Seokjin could make you cum when he wanted too. Pushing another finger inside you he curled his fingers into that spongy little spot that had your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your back arching in probably an unflattering way as you whined, “Beg for it,” Seokjin lazily demanded, as if he could suck on your pretty clit all day, and if challenged, he probably would, “Fuckin’ beg for it.”

“You’re such an assh-Oh! Fuck please! Please jesus christ Jin please!” You whined at the way he harshly sucked your clit to get you to shut up, his fingers digging into your g-spot making your walls rapidly clench and convulse around his fingers, your orgasm as close as your hands tugged against his hair, “Mmm! Shit please, let me cum all over your face please.”

Seokjin let his tongue slip past his lips as he continued lathing against your clit, eyes focused on your fucked out expression as you clenched around him nearly screaming at the way your orgasm hit you all at once, walls squelching around his fingers as they were coated in your cum. Seokjin expertly helped you come down from your hazey high as your thighs began to tremble, pulling his fingers from you as he stood up, licking his lips smug as he demanded, “Suck.”

With quivering lips you parted them obediently as Seokjin pushed them into your mouth, sucking the salty thick substance from his slim fingers as he gleamed down at you proudly, “Bet he jerks his little dick to the idea of you sucking on his fingers too.”

Popping his fingers from your mouth you huffed, running a hand through your hair before clacking your tongue, “How many times do I have to say I don’t like Jimin.” It seemed that was the wrong wording though as any mention of Jimin’s name from you had Seokjin curving a brow, picking you up by the thighs Seokjin had lead you down the hall as he nipped against your neck, “Stop saying his fucking name.”

You were dropped at the head of the bed, subjected to watch Seokjin pulled his shirt over his head to reveal the godlike body beneath, there were more than plenty of scars and bruises, a few nicks here and there but his muscles were chiseled and toned from his years spent as an assassin. You’d kiss every scar on his body if he’d let you, “I’m not saying anything, I’m just saying Jimin- oh shit.”

You swallowed when he opened the nightstand drawer to grab the handcuffs that had been conveniently left there from the last time you both had slept together, his tongue tucked into his cheek as he raised his brows, your cunt dripping in arousal and cum at the way he always looked so hot when he was pissed, “Oh shit is right you little brat.”

He didn’t hesitate for a second as he straddled your stomach, your first reaction was to fight him but it was little use as he grabbed your arms, shoving them above your head as he wrangled your wrist into one side, “Maybe you shouldn’t be such a fucking smartass and I wouldn’t tie you up.” Seokjin successfully cuffed you to the railing, leaving you at his mercy as he straightened up, looking down at you like you were dirty beneath his feet, “But that little cunt likes it right? My filthy little bitch likes to be tied up and made to take what she’s given, right?”

Your pupils narrowed into a glare, not in any position to be objecting when your pussy was coated in cum and begging to be stuffed full of his cock yet you couldn’t stop the words from leaving your lips in a bratty fit of rage, “More like you can’t keep me in one spot without the help.”

Seokjin’s lips twitched at your defiance, yet on another hand also not surprised by it long too used to your bratty ways as he grabbed slid off you to grab your thighs, pulling them back over his shoulders before you felt a sharp sting on your ass making you yelp, “Should I gag that little bitchy mouth too?”

You couldn’t even find a haughty reply before suddenly whimpering, the feeling of his wet, warm tongue plunging inside you making your walls clench around him while giving a breathy moan, his fingers teasing their way up your clit before circling your sensitive bud, “Fuck! A-ah! You’re such a dick.”

His hand immediately left your clit to slam his hand against your ass in warning, the sting traveling to your cunt in excitement as your walls clenched around his tongue once more, a laugh escaping your lips that you disguised as a moan before curling your back at the way his tongue roughly dragged into your g-spot, the skin of your hands digging into the cuffs as you rattled against them.

Your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your hand as Seokjin let his fingers circle over your clit once more, a whine of objection leaving your throat as he pulled his tongue from your, licking his lips as he continued to play with your sensitive bud, “Have you considered shower sex before?”

No amount of pleasure in the world could keep the glare off your face, watching the way that little shit’s lips were tempted to pull into a smile as you sneered, “You want my pussy at all or should I go ask Jimin for some help?”

His gaze twisted into a mutual glare, eyes darkening and it was only now you realized you had royally screwed yourself over as he dropped your thighs, almost ignoring your words for the moment as he stood up.

Your eyes however dropped down to his pants as they slid to the floor revealing the thick angry cock bouncing up to his abdominal, it was not only long but it’s girth had your body clenching all over against and his bulbous tip would always be a painful stretch no matter how much prepping, “Oh yeah? Well how about we give him a call then? Let him decide if you’re being taken care of?” Seokjin asked, his voice in a near sneer as he grabbed your legs, pressing them against your chest making you whine, “Let him know this pussy is getting stuffed and cumming all over my dick?”

You struggled to kick your legs as the feeling of the thick shaft of his cock running against your wet, cum coated cunt, rubbing past your clit as you moaned, too much teasing being done to you as Seokjin growled, “Want my cock you little slut? Then beg, I want to hear how bad you need it.”

Whining your face twisted into a rare pout, you had already begged once today and he was really going to make you throw your dignity out the window? You whimpered with a gag at his hand suddenly grabbing back against your throat again, “Should I get out a vibrator too?”

Your body was heating up with fresh arousal at the idea but before you could even reply Seokjin squeezed at your throat, “You know what? I will, I wanna see my little bitch in tears tonight, see how bad she needs me.”

Seokjin leaned over your body before grabbing the wand that was inside the nightstand, your thighs already rubbing together in need of another release. You couldn’t help but swallow at the click of the vibrator, the buzz worst then any gun to your head could imitate, “Spread your cunt, I know you like being a little whore and putting it on display.”

“Maybe I’d like it more for Jimin.” You challenged, eyes squinting as Seokjin gritted his teeth, not hesitating to pry your legs open before roughly pressing the vibrator into your clit, a loud whine echoing off the walls as your hips spasmed and rocked up into the vibrator.

“Jimin this, Jimin that,” Seokjin rolled his eyes, his jaw clenched as he turned it up a setting, moaned whimpers escaping you as you tugged rapidly against the restraints that held you, “Just admit you like being turned into a little bitch, you like when I play with this cunt until it’s dripping wet and soaked in cum,” You cried out at the feeling of two fingers plunging back inside you, the lewd wet squelch of your walls rapidly clenching around him as he clacked his tongue, “Is your little pussy gonna cum again? Do you need cum?”

“Please.” The cracked whimper wasn’t as enticing as you had hoped but you could hardly process a word anymore, too much stimulation overwhelming you as Seokjin sneered at your pathetic attempt

Seokjin suddenly curled his fingers inside you with a growl as you kicked your legs and your eyes began to burn with tears, “I know you can do better than that. I said: Fucking beg.” His fingers continued rapidly curling into your g-spot, the vibrator in your clit almost too much to handle as he skillfully continued to edge you.

“Mmm! A-ah fuck, please! Please! Shit, wanna cum so bad, please!” What was left of your dignity had completely crumbled as the words flew from your lips, vision blurring with tears as your body burned to intensely only for Seokjin to pull away, “Please! Need it so bad, please.”

Seokjin let the sadistic smile twist onto his lips, watching the way your body quivered beneath him, the tears trickling down your cheeks and completely submissive beneath him, turning down the vibrator before letting the tip circle around your entrance, enjoying the way your body twitched as he hummed, “Are you gonna be a good girl and apologize? You should be thankful I play with this cunt as much as I do.”

Dragging the vibrator up your slit before coaxingly rubbing over your clit, a small sob escaped your lips as your hips bucked up into the vibrator, his fingers pushing back inside you before curling once more into your g-spot, “A-ah I’m sorry! Please, please, please I’m sorry!”

Your cracked, whimpered words like music to Seokjins ears as he felt your walls tighten around him, “And what do you want baby? Use your words.” His mouth near watering at the way your hips rolled against his fingers, your little hole taking his fingers so easily as your face became nearly unrecognizable to anyone else besides himself. “Mmm! Please!” You whined your clit thrumming with vibration as you cried, a new stream of tears dripping down your cheeks at his torture, “Please let me cum, please! Need it so bad, please.”

Seokjin let his tongue graze against his lips, reveling in your pleading as he finally let out a smile, turning the vibrator up once more that gained another sob from you as he coaxed, “There’s my good girl, now cum all over my fingers, be a good girl and cum.”

Your walls were rapidly clenching around him and your clit was throbbing as the moan caught in your throat, the force of the orgasm enough to rip it out into a scream as a new sob escaped your, your body twisting and snapping in hot searing pleasure.

“Mmm fuck that’s a good girl.” Seokjin guided you through your orgasm with ease before gently pulling his fingers from you and turning off the vibrator as your thighs trembled. Your mind nearly blank as you continued reeling from pleasure.

You barely even registered when Seokjin had uncuffed you from the bed while whistling, “Jesus, I think this is the most fucked out you’ve ever been, are you gonna be able to take getting stuffed full?”

Despite his words he and you both were well aware this was far from the first time you had been this fucked out, Seokjin didn’t even looked worried at the way you trembled, having become so well acquainted with your body, “I didn’t just beg like a cheap pornstar to be told I’m not getting dick.”

That was enough to cause that annoying windshield wiper like laugh to sound as he spread your legs making you jump, mirth in his eyes at your crabbiness, having never been a fan of begging- or subbing before but Seokjin was also aware he was the one exception, “I know you love my dick but calm down it’s not going anywhere.”

A breathy whine escaped your lips as Seokjin let his thick bulbous tip circling against your entrance before pushing inside you, the stretch burning and pleasure shooting through your sensitive walls as Seokin didn’t bother to wait for you to adjust, his hips immediately slamming into yours as your back arched with a whine, “You know- you never did answer me, should we call him? Let him listen to your little pathetic moans? Let his dick get hard at the idea of fucking my girl.”

Your mind could hardly register his words, too caught up at the feeling of his cock squeezing into your small hole and brushing over your g-spot with each stroke as your hands clawed against his back, “Fuck- are you insane?” You tried to turn it into a snap but all it came out as was a pathetic whine, hips rolling with his as his hand dragged down to rub over your clit again, a moan escaping your lips at the sensitivity as you clenched around his thick shaft, “My phone’s back in the kitchen.”

Seokjin let out a moan before huffing, “I’m trying to be sexy, can you play along for once?” You both couldn’t help but let out a shared strained laugh as his hips continued to roll against your’s, his cock completely coated in both your cum and arousal making a mess against your thighs. Unexpectedly Seokjin pulled out of you making you whine as you popped up indignantly, royally fucked out with dried tears on your cheeks and a hoarse voice, “I am not finished with your dick yet.”

Sitting up Seokjin pulled you into his lap, the first time you’d gladly be manhandled all day as you quickly grabbed his throbbing dick, pumping his base a few times before properly sinking down on it, a quiet moan escaping you both as he let out a strained chuckle, “You’re such a fucking-”

You yelped at the loud smack of his hand stinging against your ass, “Cockslut.” Your walls clenched at the degradation, hips suddenly rolling as you bounced against his thick cock, whining as you buried into his neck, “Oh you like that? Being my little cockslut?” You moaned at the feeling of his hand spanking against your ass once more, the sting burning in your skin making your walls clench harder, “Riding my dick because you’re a needy little slut? Does that cunt need my dick?”

“Mmm please...!” You whined, having been teased too much to challenge him anymore, skin slapping against skin with every bounce of your hips, you were so fucked out on his cock you could hardly focus on anything but the way it’s thick throbbing shaft split your pussy open and the way it rubbed just the right way into your g-spot, “Yes, my pussy loves riding it.”

The wet squelch of your body clenching around him forced a moan from Seokjin’s lips, “That’s right, my dirty little bitch.” You whined at the smack of his hand on your ass once more. Seokjin’s hand dived down to your clit once more, rubbing it as you cried out tears immediately stinging your eyes once more at how sensitive it was, hips bucking and bouncing against him as his tongue dragged against your neck, “Gonna cum all over my cock? Make a big mess like the little bitch you are?”

“Y-yes.” Your voice desperate and cracked as Seokjin rubbed down on just the right spot against your swollen, sore bud causing you to clench once more, Seokjin let out a long deep moan as you felt the warm thick string of his release cream inside of you leaving your pussy a swollen, sticky messy as you slowed your hips down.

“You know…” You had to pause for a second as you let yourself heave and gulp for air, coming down from your high of sex before continuing, “If you ever feel like you’re being replaced, you should just talk to me about it- seriously.” You leaned a little away from him to look him in the eyes.

While angry sex was a personal favorite between you both, it was by no means an actual remedy to your problems, and Seokjin knew this, his eyes a little bashful as he sighed, arms wrapping loosely around your waist, “No...I...I was just childish...I never liked sharing you when we were younger either, this isn’t any different I just…”

He set his chin down on your shoulder to get away without having to look at you, feelings were always something that felt a little awkward to discuss, but you cared about one another so much you both would always force it out from the other, “You mean so much to me Y/n, I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you, whether it’s from dying, or you just getting tired of me and leaving-I just- I need you. You’re the only reason I have left to keep going.”

“Seokjin…” You sighed, pulling yourself off his now softened cock before properly seating yourself in his lap, your legs loosely wrapped around his waist before wrapping your arms around him in a much accepted hug, “I’m not going anywhere. And if you feel like I’m going too, you need to talk to me about it. I know you’re a total dumbass and it’s difficult to believe but you’re all I have left too. I’m not going anywhere, we’re partners, always have and always will be,” You pulled away from him before giving him a cocky wink, “Til death do us part motherfucker. Now let’s go watch a movie or something, your cum makes me feel like a sperm bank.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” Seokjin furrowed his brows as you stood up, hobbling over to his dresser as you grabbed a hoodie.

“The same thing as beatface.” You wiggled the hoodie over your head before rolling your eyes. Your life was anything but easy, and there was still so much to come, but you’d be okay, you and Seokjin would always have one another’s back, and even the sky could fall but you’d be fine. As long as you had him, “You know what? Nevermind, you’re worthless Kim, just pick a fucking movie.”

#bts #bts x reader #bts x y/n #seokjin x reader #seokjin x reader smut #seokjin x y/n #jin x reader #jin smut #seokin smut #assassin au #assassin!seokjin #assassin!reader #bts au #bts assassin au

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the-final-sif · 4 years

Text

interview about writing processes

Hey Lady Sif,

thank you for taking time for us and agreeing to answer our interview questions.

Since this was of short notice we decided to change the deadline to June 19.

We hope the time frame suits you.

Here are our questions:

Can you shortly describe us your writing history? How did you start off? How did you come across fanfiction?

Do you have a writing philosophy that helps you overcome challenges in writing?

Could you describe your writing environment? (workplace, prefered writing tools, fandom discourse, discourse with friends)

What inspires you to write and post in and for a fandom? What triggers your headcanons? Does your educational background influence your writing?

In how far does your fandom experience influence your writing?

In how far do you work with others to create fan content? And what ideas do you integrate in your writing?

Are there certain steps you take/decisions you make when/before responding to a post/prompt?

When and why did you decide to host writing events like your fake fics event? What was the purpose and how did you approach the title prompts?

How would you describe the difference between writing alone and writing spontaneously with others (first in creating fan theories and headcanons and second in creating fanfiction)?

Do you think knowing that others read and can comment on your texts subconsciously influences your writing?

What motivated you to create a story where your readers can decide for an ending (name)?

Is there anything else you consider important in your writing process that you would like to tell us?

Thanks again for your time and effort, we are very much looking forward to your answers!

If you’re interested we’ll keep you updated on our findings.

Kind regards, Dana and Helena

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Can you shortly describe us your writing history? How did you start off? How did you come across fanfiction?

I started writing when I was very young! I was a huge reader, and even before I was writing stuff down I was a storyteller. It’s a really important part of my family & how we communicate with each others and others.

My first experience with fanfiction was when I was,, 7 or 8? That sounds about right. I hand wrote a fanfiction called “ShoppingCats” which something between warrior cats and Cats vs Dogs, but also made primarily of my OCs (+ a handful of warriors characters I liked). I still have most of it, it’s sitting in my desk drawer in it’s original binder, since my mother saved it.

I came across fandom spaces / online fanfiction in 2012 with fanfiction.net, and published my first fanfiction in 2013 (under Rosae-Sif on fanfiction.net). I’ve taken breaks as my interests changed & life got chaotic, but I’ve always enjoyed retelling stories that I hear and changing them to suit me more / explore new themes, so I’ve stuck with it after all this time.

Do you have a writing philosophy that helps you overcome challenges in writing?

Yes! I write for myself above all else. It’s fun to write stuff for other people sometimes, and I like getting feedback and what not, but I never let that be the focus of my writing. I always try to write what I want to be reading, so when I go back and reread what I’ve written, more often than not I find I’ve produced something that makes me happy, and that helps keep me going when a lot of other things couldn’t.

Could you describe your writing environment? (workplace, prefered writing tools, fandom discourse, discourse with friends)

Uhhh, I don’t really have any one set thing. I mostly write on my laptop, sometimes I use a notebook + pen. I have 5$ fountain pen that I got that I really love when I have writer’s block.

I think the most consistent “workplace” for me is actually discord/my friends. Almost all of my AUs/fics/ideas start as me storytelling (either typing things out or out loud) to someone else. That’s where the spark comes from, and then that slowly is refined through several iterations until I have something I like.

I really like taking long walks with headphones & nobody else around. That’s when a lot of the very early forms of my favorite ideas come to me. It’s a key part of my writing process the few times I get stuck on stuff too. I just go walk till I figure it out.

I don’t really get involved in discourse much. I like debating people, but I try to stay away from destructive stuff and just have my own fun corner where I create things. I’m in fandom for fun, and I refuse to let me experience be tainted by people who try to turn it into Discourse Central.

What inspires you to write and post in and for a fandom? What triggers your headcanons? Does your educational background influence your writing?

As I mentioned before, I write and post primarily for myself! I have a lot of ideas in my head all the time, and things I want to see, so I create those things and then put them here. It’s fun when other people interact with me + add onto my ideas + create things in response!

My headcanons are usually just kinda,,,, coming out of my brain. I think it’s just how I am. I have a question or a thought and I start looking into it and before I know it, a whole new thing has come out of it.

I think my family actually influenced a lot of my writing style more than anything else. I mean, I was homeschooled for a long time, and my parents were very encouraging of whatever weird projects I was creating (my dad once even let me cut down and drag actual brambles into the basement to create a warriors style fort). I was allowed to dress however I wanted (during high school I worn nothing but PJ pants b/c they were most comfy for me, and also I had/have several capes that I would rotate through), I was allowed to dye my hair (still do! it’s current a side shave in red + purple + blue!), and I was encouraged to just,,, be weird and happy. I think that shows in how I write. I pursue the ideas I want to go after, I indulge myself, I commit to thinks and I focus more on what I want to write rather than what I feel I should write.

That being said, a lot of science nerding that comes out in my writing is def from my educational background. I’ve got a bachelors and stuff. I did take some writing classes, but to be honest, I think my fanfiction experience influenced those a lot more than they influenced my fanfiction (years and years of writing constantly and quickly paid off in college where I would BS papers the night before and get top marks on it).

In how far does your fandom experience influence your writing?

Hmm, I don’t think it does that much? I mean, for the BNHA fandom in particular, I think that seeing all the cool content + ideas other people create really keeps my brain chugging along and creating new things, and god, having seen people make fanart and fanfiction for my stories has been one of the best feelings I’ve ever experienced, but I don’t think that’s really changed how I’m writing.

At my core, I’m still doing the same thing my 8 year old self was doing with her pencil and that binder full of paper. I take the strange thoughts out of my head, and I follow them onto the paper until I create something that makes me happy.

I’ve had some negative experiences of course. I mean, everyone does. They’ve all been fairly minor, mostly just people trying to tell me I’m wrong about stuff that’s either in an AU that’s already not supposed to be canon, or stuff I’m right about. Most of the time it’s just annoying. Sometimes it’s concerning. I ignore or delete the annoying stuff, I don’t want to give it any of my time or attention.

The concerning stuff I try to reply to. It’s been rare, but sometimes I get comments on certain fics trying to tell me what’s being depicted in my fic isn’t abusive when it absolutely is. I try to correct that and link to resources when I do get that. I usually don’t get a reply, but a few times I’ve had people realize that what they thought was normal was actually abusive behavior. I’m happy that I’m able to help people come to that realization.

In how far do you work with others to create fan content? And what ideas do you integrate in your writing?

Hmmm, I’ll be honest, I’m not quite sure how to answer this one. I don’t exactly work with others when creating my fan content? All of my writing (save one RP collab homestuck fic from ages ago) is done by me exclusively, and most my ideas are also mostly from my own brain. Although I will say one exception to that is @windschildfanfictionwriter whose an amazing bnha writer I chat with fairly frequently when I need help figuring something out.

It’s less of “working” with people, and more discussing things/ideas, and being excited about stuff. Sometimes literally all I need is someone to be my rubber duck while I talk about an idea for 2-3 hours to get it solidified. People in my discord server often help me by betaing (editing/reviewing) my wips. My adhd means I often make weird mistakes, and they’re wonderful at helping me catch that.

As for ideas I pull into my writing, it’s hard to pick out specific ones. I think I kinda create + absorb + integrate lots of stuff at once. A lot of the times my ideas don’t come from things other authors write, but instead come from things other authors didn’t write. When I see an thought/idea/thread in a story that isn’t followed up on, or isn’t handled how I think it should be handled, that often inspires me to either use a similar base concept or similar thought but in the way I wish it had been done.

Are there certain steps you take/decisions you make when/before responding to a post/prompt?

Not really? I tend to just go with whatever comes to me or what I already had prepared. I’m rather impulsive, so unless it’s a delicate subject matter, I roll with whatever’s going on.

I do always make myself take a step back before responding to stuff that annoys me/any sort of anon hate. I have to remind myself it’s not worth the effort and I should focus on positive/fun stuff. I’ll admit though, I have a very combative nature that can get the better of me sometimes. I’ve gotten better at that though! Hooray for proper adhd medication to help prevent destructive stimulus seeking behavior and therapy! Although I do still like to debate stuff for fun, I just don’t let myself get hostile about it.

When and why did you decide to host writing events like your fake fics event? What was the purpose and how did you approach the title prompts?

Oh, I just saw the post and thought it looked fun so I reblogged it. Stuff like that is mostly an impulse more than anything else.

I just kinda went with the flow for the titles. God, I got so many of those, I still have a lot of them sitting in my inbox, most of which I probably won’t ever post. For the ones I did do though, I picked ones that sounded like fic titles I would actually use, and then asked myself what sort of story I would use that title for. Then I just kinda wrote whatever came to me.

How would you describe the difference between writing alone and writing spontaneously with others (first in creating fan theories and headcanons and second in creating fanfiction)?

Hmmm. This one is also a bit hard. It’s rare I truly “write alone”, most of my stories start as a form of oral storytelling and then are adapted to “proper” writing. Most of my theories/headcanons start the same way.

You’ll notice a lot of my posts start with “Also” “Okay” or “I’ve been thinking” or “You know”. When I’m writing my headcanon/theory posts, it’s all written very conversationally because I’m still following my family’s storytelling in a way. It’s a public post, but I’m not just making statements to a void. I’m still talking to people, addressing them, leading them through stuff. It’s just how I communicate on a very fundamental leave.

I’m still writing for myself, I’m creating for myself, but I’m doing it with others. I’m telling a story constantly, and sometimes I’m telling that story to myself, but I’m still telling it to someone.

I think you can read that in my fics, with the perspective I tend to use. I use limited third person POV, but when I’m writing, I try to write it how the character I’m writing from the POV of would tell their own story. I’m not just describing what’s happening, I’m letting this character tell their story through their own voice, to others, to me. It’s a core part of my writing, and that makes it hard to say that it was ever really written alone.

Do you think knowing that others read and can comment on your texts subconsciously influences your writing?

I mean, it’d be impossible for it not to. But I don’t think it influences me that much. I’m still writing for myself most of the time, and I hold onto my bullshit tightly. I don’t change my writing based on what I think other people want to see from me.

That being said, it’s still something I think about. It’s more of a conscious choice, but specifically regarding my stories that have abuse in them, I try to connect in elements of realism and common underrepresented traits/habits of abuse (which I do try to check via research when I can) and ensure that they are then called out as what they are. I’ve gotten a number of comments/asks/discord messages from people telling me that my works helped them realize they were in a crappy situation / understand what they were going through, and that’s something that’s important for me.

I think The Green Eyed Monster is an example of that, where I explore platonic stalking/obsession/pressuring. It’s something I don’t see taken seriously often enough, so I wanted to frame it in a serious but realistic light and make it clear that what was happening was wrong and harmful. I wanted to explore this concept, but I purposefully did it in a way that I hoped would help others who might’ve dealt with it on some level understand it for what it was, and I think it really shows. In the comments of that fic, there’s a lot of very personal responses/stories from people who went through similar experiences. I think that’s important, so it’s something I try to do when I can.

The other thing is I do 100% put references/lines in certain stories with an evil grin on my face knowing that a certain handful of my commenters are going to rip their hair out over it, either because they have no idea what I mean by it, or they know exactly what I mean by it. But hey, I’m a hurt/comfort writer at heart, so you can hardly blame me.

What motivated you to create a story where your readers can decide for an ending (name)?

Oh, uh, “Seven Year Old Katsuki Has The Ability To Kill A Grown Man And No Concept Of Legality”.

I actually can’t remember the exact inspiration for this one? I think I saw uhhh, Markiplier, playing a text adventure game, and I got curious about creating something similar.

I considered using a platform meant for text based games, but true to my family’s long history of needlessly complicating things and creating things where they aren’t meant to be created out of some mix of spite and creative hubris, I decided I wanted to make it on A03 instead. I looked up a style formatting guide, and went to work.

That whole project took like 1-2 months, around school work and everything else. It was created entirely using links that sent you to the next page. That’s it. That’s the only ‘code’ functionality I had to work with. So I made a whole paper map of the routes, separating them out into “steps” and then created unique text blocks for each step based on prior choices. I used a secret point system for one of the main routes, and ended up with 97 unique steps, and 155 different text blocks/variations.

Fun project. A03 was having some trouble/going down right after I released it, and to this day, certain members of the discord server still blame me for that as I was forcing the website into bullshit it was not meant to contain.

Is there anything else you consider important in your writing process that you would like to tell us?

Nothing I can think of off the top of my head. Other than maybe I have an African Gray named Cecil, and sometimes when I’m not ready to share an idea with humans, I’ll talk it out with him first. He’s an excellent listener sometimes, and by that I mean he’s usually ignoring me or I’m giving him scratches and he’s not paying my rambling any mind.

Though sometimes I get lucky and when I finish up a point and ask for his opinion, he’ll just look at me for a moment and say “I love you.” He does it because I’ll always cave and give him treats since I’m weak for him, but it still makes me smile.

#sif speaks #sif answers #my writing #long post #if there's anything else #just let me know!#submission

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seokiloquy · 4 years

Text

Ready. Aim. Fire? Pt 3 - Sugawara & Sawamura

AU: Gang

Gender Neutral Reader

Word Count: 5.6K+

Disclaimer: contains violent themes and suggestions, gun violence (? Kind of) all of this is fiction and I don’t condone violence...anyways enjoy lol

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3

“I’m going to kill him,” Kiyoko said, kicking a nearby trash can. “I’m going to bash everyone’s head in–”

“Woah,” Kuroo said, pulling Kiyoko away from the dented bin. His expressions were the same as always, easy going without a care in the world, but you could read the concern in his eyes. Another reason he’ll be a good leader, you thought. Care about your people but stick to business as usual, keep a level headed mind. “We don’t know if it’s actually Aoba Johsai. It could be someone else.”

Kiyoko glared. “It’s their colours, Kuroo.”

Kuroo shrugged and rubbed his forehead, letting out an exhausted sigh. “It could be a setup. We can’t take the risk.”

You nodded. “He’s right. We shouldn’t do anything until we know for sure. It could have been them, but if it wasn’t then we’d be declaring war with the wrong person. A person who would watch us tear each other apart to pick up the scraps.”

Kiyoko smirked and shook her head, trying to ignore the truth in your words. “‘We’? You’re throwing that around like it’s a ball.”

You met her eyes, they were cold and unwavering, worn with the time as gang leader. But you could see the cracks in her carefully made mask. She was, and will always be, your sister. The one you ran away for. The one you left your family for. The one you used to laugh and cry with. Your flesh and blood. The last person who understood what it was like to lose both your parents.

The last person who remembered your father’s kind eyes and your mom’s smile.

“If you want Neokma’s help, you have it.”

Kiyoko nodded. “Thank you.”

Kuroo looked between the two of you, surprised that the conversation didn’t end with bloodshed. He didn’t complain though. “What’s the first move then?”

“First we need to figure out if it’s actually Aoba Johsai,” you said, and then turned to face Kiyoko, “you should call your members and get everything in order.”

Kiyoko furrowed her eyebrows. She was probably used to giving the orders rather than receiving them and you sighed lightly in relief when she met your eyes and walked away.

Kuroo leaned in closer to you. “What happens if it’s them?”

You closed your eyes and then grinned. “Then we prepare for war.”

“Going somewhere?” You asked, leaning against the door frame.

Kiyoko hesitated for the gun on the desk. She cocked her head to the side and straightened her back. Sliding the gun into the holster, Kiyoko walked through the door past you.

Quickly, you turned around, right on her heels. You grabbed her arm and held her back. “Where are you going?”

She ripped out of your grasp. “We know officially that it’s actually Aoba Johsai and they are going to bleed for taking them away. I’m going to get my family back. ”

You winced. In a way, Karasuno was her family, like how Neokma was yours, but that didn’t change the fact that Kiyoko was your family too. You knew it, and you wished she did too.

“We have a plan. Kuroo’s rounding everyone up. We’ll get them back,” you said.

“It’s not going to work.”

You scoffed. “You agreed to the plan. It’s going to work.”

Kiyoko didn’t answer, but you already knew.

“You only agreed so that the meeting would be over,” you sighed. “You're going to go after them by yourself all along.”

You took a step closer to her and reached out for her arm, but decided against it.

“They look horrible,” Kiyoko whispered. “Karasuno. They put on a brave face because we’re in company, but I could see it on their faces, in their eyes, they...they miss them. Even though I make the final say, Dachi is their leader and I know it, they listen to him. Koushi too. If Karasuno went into this alone, we’d lose.”

“Karasuno might be at a low now,” you said, checking to see if you remembered your gun. You smiled slightly when you felt its weight at your side. “They might be sad and have a clouded mind, but they’re probably angry too.”

Kiyoko looked up.

“If they’re angry, well, then they’ll fight like they have nothing to lose and that’s powerful. Dangerous, even.”

You reached out for her arm, grabbing it lightly this time. “That doesn’t exclude you either. No matter how angry or sad you are, you can’t risk being reckless. You are their leader, Kiyoko, if something happens to you then Karasuno will fall apart for sure, left without any type of leadership. So, you either let me come with you, or you don’t do anything at all and follow our plan. I’d suggest the latter, but I know better than that, I know you better than that.”

Kiyoko sighed and grabbed your arm back, giving you a hint of a smile. “Like old times,” she whispered.

“We need some sort of plan though,” you reasoned, enjoying the sight of Kiyoko’s sisterly smile, one that you haven’t seen for a long time. “Even if we go in guns blazing, we’d be taken down in a second. Maybe less depending on who we run into. We should let Kuroo know too…”

Kiyoko smirked. “I’ve got a plan.”

“You know,” you said, playing with the seatbelt on the passenger side of the car, “your plan might work. But it’s extremely dangerous and idiotic. I don’t know if I should be proud or get a brain scan for going along with it.”

The corners of Kiyoko’s lips curled up. “You should be proud. It’ll work better than the other one.”

You glared at her. “And you couldn’t have mentioned it during the three hour long meeting we had to come up with a plan.”

She shrugged. “It was nice to hear all the ideas that I knew wouldn’t work.”

You rolled your eyes.

“You know what to do right?”

“Yes,” you said. “Are you sure though? It could go really bad from the very beginning and we’re going to need a shit ton of luck.”

Kiyoko shook her head and slowed down the car. She pulled across the street from Aoba Johsai’s headquarters, the windows were boarded up from the outside and a braided metal fence went around the perimeter. To anyone else, it would just look like an abandoned building, but both you and Kiyoko knew what hid behind the old brick walls.

There weren’t any members of Aoba Johsai lurking outside the building. You were a bit skeptical. All leaders liked to know when people from other gangs entered their territory. Especially if those people were the leaders of other gang groups. They probably knew that you were there, they just didn’t show or say anything. A part of their own plan.

“It’ll work because we will make it.” She unbuckled her seat belt and turned the car off but left the keys in the ignition. “Everything will be fine.”

She took a deep breath and then gave you a firm nod. “Wait five minutes. Remember the plan.”

You nodded back. “Good luck...and stay as safe as you can.”

Your eyes followed as Kiyoko walked into front of the car and jogged lightly around the corner to the entrance of the building. You swallowed and closed your eyes. It’ll work.

The five minutes that lasted hours came anyways.

You opened the car door and walked the path that Kiyoko did, hoping for the best, but expecting and preparing for the worst. As you turned the corner, Kuroo’s words flashed across your mind.

“Aoba Johsai has a lot of problems. They think they’re better than everyone else, so they let their guard down, especially when it comes down to the new members. They get put on patrol, guarding, and become runners even though high ranking members should still rotate those jobs. They don’t. So, rely on that. Rely on their ego and pride.”

He was right.

By the time you reached the outer door where Kiyoko should be, she was still there and not dead already. The guard standing there had his gun pointed to her, but he was shaking ever so slightly. Kiyoko had her hands up lazily and her gun was on the floor in front of her.

You undid your own gun from the holster and aimed it up. “Hey!”

He jumped and aimed his gun towards you and then back to Kiyoko, afraid of both of you. Kiyoko reached down to her gun. The man jumped back and pulled the trigger.

An echoing bang shot through the air as Kiyoko dropped to the floor.

You levelled your gun and shot him in the leg.

He fell face first next to Kiyoko and gave a grunted scream.

The door was still opened, anyone who was close enough to hear anything inside would. And if they did then you knew you were going to be surrounded by people in no time.

You rushed over to Kiyoko and turned her over. She smirked and grimaced at you when you turned her over, keycard in hand. You held your hand to her leg to stop the fresh blood. Her leg was bleeding, but the shot was only an inch in and it went through her leg.

She was okay.

You heard footsteps coming from inside the building. You grabbed her arm and pulled her up. “You need to go. Now!”

“An hour,” she whispered and shoved the key card into your hand. She glared at the person whimpering on the ground and whispered, “Lazy shot.” You stuffed it in a secret pocket that you put in last night in case this would happen. Kiyoko leaped away and rounded the corner as a person pushed through the door and held up their gun.

You put up your hands and tried to look as neutral as possible. The person served the scene, and gripped his gun tighter when he saw you.

With your hands still up, you pointed at the boy on the ground holding his leg. “He started it.”

Daichi couldn’t hear clearly through his left ear and his chest hurt. There was a slight ringing in it, but otherwise, he felt okay. He couldn’t tell how long they’ve been down here. It was definitely a basement and there were no windows in the room they were given, the only light came from the light bulb on the ceiling. It was too tall to reach even if they stood on the cot and they tried. Daichi expected that— it was a holding cell after all — they couldn’t take the chance that they could get any weapons. Even if that weapon was a broken lightbulb.

There was a separate door that led to a bathroom and a single cot pushed into the corner of the room. Two chairs were in the middle of the room facing each other, but other than that there was nothing. Both the chairs and the cot were bolted to the ground.

He guessed that Aoba Johsai didn’t keep many captivities, let alone two at the same time. The people who used to be in the room probably didn’t stay for long. He didn’t even want to think about what the chairs were for.

Sugawara took the cot today. He was a little bit worse. He had a cut on his lip and had a couple of bruises around his upper arm and stomach. Sugawara took most of the hits. They probably thought he couldn’t take it. He wasn’t as built as Daichi, but they didn’t know Sugawara like he did.

He was a fighter.

When they first got here, they were stalled in an interrogation that didn’t mean anything. They asked things that they knew Daichi and Sugawara couldn’t answer – wouldn’t answer. They wanted to cause them some pain even if they knew they wouldn’t get anything from it.

Daichi glared at the door, specifically the key card reader that laid on the side of it. They put it there to mock them, saying: look at you, the person who can’t get out. If only you had a piece of plastic.

He kept busy listening to the guards that stood patrolled the hallways. They came around every hour or so. The only thing that was persistent was the meal times. From what he could tell, they brought meals around the same time every day and it was always the same thing, just enough for two people.

He heard something outside the door. Multiple pairs of feet rushing towards the door.

It opened with a loud creak, waking up Sugawara and they threw someone in.

You hit the ground hard, but it didn’t hurt as much the pain in your side. The person who found you next to the guard outside elbowed you in the ribs, making you sink to your knees. The pain wasn’t the worst you’ve ever felt but it still hurt like hell.

You curled into a small ball and groaned, holding your side.

“(Y/N)?”

A person rushed to your side. The room was dimly lit, the once source was a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. You looked up to see Sawamura. He grabbed your arm lightly and pulled you up. Sugawara was behind him half sitting up on the cot. His eyes were tired but alert.

“Hey,” you winced.

“What are you doing here?” Sugawara swung his legs over the edge of the cot and walked over to you.

You didn’t answer and slowly limped to the cot and laid down. You could still feel the warmth from when Sugawara was lying down. You turned to face them, both had a mixed expression of relief and worry.

“It’s a part of the plan, Daichi,” you whispered.

Daichi widened his eyes and then quickly shifted back to a neutral face. There could be cameras anywhere in the room. He kept his voice low as he said, “A plan? Like to escape?”

You nodded and then cringed when the action sent new pain to your side. “I’ll tell you in a second.”

Sugawara smiled and sat beside Daichi who was sitting on the ground beside your bed. The two boys were patient. You took a deep breath and tried to tell yourself that the pain you were feeling would only last a little while longer. You didn’t think it was broken, but you weren’t a doctor, how would you know?

You allowed yourself a second to hope, telling yourself that Kiyoko made it back to Nekoma and that they’d be here in an hour to finish what Aoba Johsai started. Her leg didn’t seem too serious, but you didn’t think that she’d be here when the heavy gunfire would start.

“Cameras?” You keep your voice low. The holding cells at Neokma and Karasuno had them, but you weren’t sure if the ones at Aoba Johsai did. They didn’t seem to care about who was here and probably wouldn’t have had a thought about it.

Sugawara shook his head. “We checked. There aren’t any visible ones but I don’t think we should take the chance. Especially if the information you’re going to give us is...sensitive.”

You frowned. “It’s not like we could all go into the bathroom to talk. I agree about the cameras, but I doubt there’s any of them in there.”

Daichi blinked. “That could work.”

“I was joking.”

“I know,” Daichi said quickly, “but you're right. There probably aren’t any cameras there and if there are any here then they’d probably just think that we’re either...odd or not see anything at all.”

“Or they could see all of us go into the bathroom, come here and kill us,” you deadpanned.

“Let’s just try,” Sugawara said.

They were too optimistic. You looked between the two of them, both had hints of smiles on their faces that made you want to shout at them, but there were bigger things at hand. You’d have to tell them the plan before the other came or else things could end badly if they weren’t informed.

“Fine.”

You pushed yourself off the bed ignoring the pain in your side and went to the bathroom. They followed closely behind making sure that you didn’t fall or hurt yourself further. You hated it. You’ve stopped relying on people since you left Karasuno and the only other person who you truly trusted with work was Kuroo. Kiyoko came in at second because she was your sister. She knew you, but it was hard to tell where she stood sometimes. Most of your conversations ended with fights, so it was hard to believe whether or not your sisterly bond had fully returned within the days that you two weren’t at each other’s throats.

The first thing you learned when you entered Nekoma was how to be self reliant.

The bathroom was small, barely enough to fit two people. It would be a tight squeeze. You went and sat on the edge of the bathtub, that was clearly unused. Daichi came in after taking a spot beside you and Sugawara closed the door behind him and leaned against it.

“So the plan?” Sugawara asked. His voice was still low, but clearer than in the room.

“The first thing you need to know,” you started, “is that we only have an hour before they come for us.”

Sugawara nodded. “So getting captured was a part of the plan?”

“Yes. I came here with Kiyoko, it was her plan. She was actually supposed to be the one who came here, but it was always going to be a 50/50 shot. We knew from Kuroo that Aoba Johsai relied on lower level members to guard doors, so we expected that whoever we were going to run into would be a little shaky. We didn’t know he was going to be...trigger happy.”

Daichi flinched. “Is Kiyoko okay?”

You nodded quickly. “She’s fine. Got shot in the leg, but alive last time I saw her.”

Both sighed in relief.

“We thought that he would shoot at me, but I guess he just shot who he thought he could hit. We got what we needed though.” You put your hand to your pocket and pulled out the key card. “They are so stupid to have a key card reader on the inside of the holding cell.”

The genuine smile returned to their faces and this time you were happy to see them.

Any minute now.

None of you were sure of what you were supposed to wait for. An explosion? Gunfire? The one thing that you knew for sure was that you’d know it when it happened.

“(Y/N)?” Sugawara asked.

You snapped out of your thoughts and turned to face him. Even though the question was directed to you, it caught Daichi’s attention too.

You hummed in response, not taking your eyes off of the door.

“Why are you...Why do you…?”

You laughed. “I assume that there is an end to those questions.”

“You don’t seem to like us that much,” Sugawara said, “why?”

“Is now a good time to talk about that?”

Sugawara shrugged. “Probably not, but there are never good times. Not with what all of us do for a living. This is a convenient time, all we’re doing is waiting. Also, I’m curious. ”

You glanced between the two of them. “It’s not like I hate the two of you...you just remind me of someone I’d rather not remember.”

“Who?” Daichi asked.

You looked away from them. “My mom.”

The gunfire echoed the hallways.

It started.

In no time, the three of you held guns in your hands.

Another hiccup in the plan: even though Kuroo’s intel about Aoba Johsai has been correct so far, he didn’t know where the holding cells would be. They couldn’t wait for someone to find them, so they would have to meet up with Karasuno and Neokma by yourselves.

There were dead or injured bodies every turn you took and every stairwell you went up, but you wouldn’t stop until you saw Kuroo or another high ranking member of Neokma. However, Daichi and Sugawara quickly found the members of Karasuno.

A short orange hair boy ran up to them with a smile on his face, droplets of blood decorated his right cheek.

“Have you seen Kuroo?”

The orange hair boy’s eyes snapped to yours. He straightened his spine and dropped his smile. Sugawara smiled at him while Daichi covered his mouth to stiffen a laugh.

“No,” he said. “Neokma took the other side of the building.”

You laughed a little too at his formalness. “Okay.” You pointed to both Daichi and Sugawara. “Get them out of here. They have some minor injuries which could turn out to be more, get someone to see them.”

He nodded and grabbed both of their arms. “Of course.”

Daichi pulled his arm back. “Where are you going?”

You raised your gun and shot behind Daichi. Their heads turned as a body dropped behind them. “I’m going to find Kuroo. I’m not leaving until he does.”

Sugawara shook his head. “You’re injured too. You could barely stand when they threw you into the cell. Hinata should take us all back.”

“You’re injured?” Hinata said. He quickly roamed you to find your hand clutching to your side.

“Yes, but it’s fine. I’ve had worse and I don’t want to leave Kuroo here. I need to tell him something and I can’t if I die within the next couple of seconds. I can clearly walk too.”

“I understand that,” Daichi said, looking over his shoulder in case anyone decided to shoot at the four of you. “But you’re their leader. It’s important for you to be here but it’s more important that you stay alive so that you can be there for the aftermath.”

He sounded like you when you were speaking to Kiyoko in the car.

“He’ll be fine,” Hinata added. “You know Kruoo, he can handle himself. The whole point of this is to get everyone out safely as possible and that won’t happen if we’re all dead.”

You bit your tongue. “Fine.”

Hinata nodded and turned, in what you could assume, was the direction he came in. You hated being in hallways. It was open ended and anyone could come from either direction. Together you devised a system, Hinata and Daichi lead with their guns raised and walking to an exit while you and Sugawara walked backwards, securing both sides.

You were almost there. The pan in your side was lessening but still present.

A strange mix of calmness and panic coursed through your body as you saw the influx of Aoba Johsai members flood your vision. Sugawara tightened beside you and nudged Daichi in the back.

You were an excellent shot, but even you knew that when it came to gunfights, the number of people mattered.

You couldn’t count how many people you shot. All you knew was that you ran out of bullets faster than the others. You quickly searched for another gun and leaned down to grab one from a body off the ground.

You heard another gunfire. You raised the gun and shot them with the bullet landing square in his chest.

Someone grabbed your hand and started dragging you. You let them as you fired your gun time after time, slowly wilting down the people who stood in your way. They pushed you out the door and slammed it shut. You stumbled as the person let go of you.

Daichi looked around and a broken pipe caught his eye. He picked it up and shoved it through the handle, scratching the door closed.

“Everyone good?” Daichi asked, surveying everyone.

Sugawara nodded along with Hinata. You were about to join them when a sharp pain burst to your side. You gasped and bent down, hand to the pain.

“(Y/N)?”

You looked up to them slowly approaching you. You pulled your hand away and held it in front of you. Your hand was painted deep with dark red blood.

You fell to your knees.

Kiyoko was lying in the bed beside yours. Your eyes blinked as they met hers. Her leg was elevated up in a sling that was attached to the ceiling and her hands held brown folders in them. Relief flooded through you when you saw that she was alive. You never thought that she was dead, but it was good reassurance that she was alive.

“Kiyoko?”

She smiled at you and placed the papers down. “Hey, (Y/N).”

“What happened?” You tried to sit up but flinched at the new pain at your side.

Kiyoko grimaced. “You were shot near the ribs. You shouldn’t move either. It’ll hurt for a bit.”

You nodded weakly and rubbed your eyes.

“(Y/N)?”

Your eyes moved to meet her again, careful not to move your body, but your eyes strayed as your eyes adjusted to the light. It was the hospital wing at Karasuno. You swallowed, it was exactly the same as the last time you saw it.

“Yeah?”

She shifted in her bed to face you. “You know how you asked me how mom and dad died? I got the file on them and it doesn’t make any sense. And honestly, I don’t believe anything that grandfather said in the reports. It all seems...too clean. Do...Do you know how they died?”

You looked away from her. You didn’t like to think about your parents. You loved them deeply, but the thought of them only made you realize how you left them, how you didn’t get to say goodbye to them.

“When I joined Neokma,” you started, picking at your hand, “and heard that they died, I was heartbroken. But...But I knew it wasn’t a coincidence. I’m not sure how it was on the Karasuno side, but there were tons of rumours saying that our grandfather killed them.”

Kiyoko closed her eyes. “I didn’t think they were true.”

“I couldn’t find out the truth for myself because that would mean going back to Karasuno territory and I couldn’t. I had Kuroo find out if it was true and when he told it was...I killed our grandfather.”

Kiyoko put a hand to her cheek, wiping it dry. “Is that why you left?”

You shuddered. “Kind of? Our parents died so soon after I left, I don’t think they got the chance to tell you how it happened, but I left because of you.”

Kiyoko snapped her head up. “(Y/N), I’m —”

“Let me finish,” you interrupted, “I left because at Karasuno they have this tradition: if you’re siblings, whoever doesn’t become leader gets killed. The first kill of the official leader. I overheard mom and dad talking about it saying that I was in the lead and I knew that I couldn’t kill you, Kiyoko. I couldn’t. After that, I tried to do everything to show that I wouldn’t be a good leader, failing all the tests and things they put us through but it didn’t work.

“I left just before they would decide who would become the next leader. I couldn’t kill you. I don’t know if you could have at the time, but even if you did, I don’t know if you could live with yourself after. I didn’t want you to put that on you either.”

Kiyoko looked away from you. After a moment, she said, “I wouldn’t have been able to do it either…”

You laughed a little, trying to ease up the tension in the air. “That’s good to know.”

“You could have told me,” she whispered. “I could have helped you. We could have found a way out.”

You shook your head. “Mom and dad tried everything already by the time I found out. We couldn’t have done anything and if we outright refuse to do it, our grandfather would probably have killed us both on the spot.”

Kiyoko nodded meekly. “I miss them.”

“I miss them too.”

Silence hung in the air, a comfortable one.

“I actually have something to tell you,” you said, breaking the calmness. Carefully, you sat yourself up on the bed, only jerking your head slightly when the pain seeped through. “I think I want to step down as leader of Neokma.”

“What?” Kiyoko said. “But—But the alliance.”

You laughed. “I don’t think that Kuroo would be against the alliance between Karasuno and Neokma.”

Kiyoko smiled and tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “You’re making Kuroo the next leader?”

“Yeah. I think everyone knows that he’s the real leader.”

“That’s a good choice.”

“Also, I was hoping to maybe do something in between.”

Kiyoko furrowed her eyebrow. “In between?”

“I don’t want to be a leader,” you smiled, “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to be one. I can’t leave Neokma fully, they’re my family, but you are too. Karasuno is too. I know how things work on both sides, so maybe I could be like a diplomat or something. Help keep the alliance in place and things along the lines of that.”

Kiyoko grinned. “I could make that work.”

It wasn’t long before the entire hospital room was filled with people from both Neokma and Karasuno. You had called a meeting despite the very informal setting. The pain in your side still prevented you from moving, so it was easier having everyone come to you.

“I have an announcement,” you said, letting your voice carry across the room. Everyone turned their head to you. “First, I want to say thank you to everyone who helped get Daichi, Sugawara and, kind of, me back from Aoba Johsai and from what I heard from Kruoo, they won’t be a big problem anymore. The main thing I wanted to tell you all is that from this point on, I will no longer be the leader of Nekoma. I am stepping down.”

The Nekoma side of the room erupted with confusion.

“Quiet down please,” you said. You looked around the room smiling at the people looking back at you. “I also want to appoint the new leader, if he’d like the job.”

Your eyes landed one Kuroo and grinned at him. “Kuroo?”

The corners of his lips curled up to a beaming smile. He took a step closer to you and gave you a mocking deep bow before returning your gaze. “It’ll be my honour to look after these idiots.”

The crowd cheered him.

“What will you do?” Kuroo asked once it died down.

“She’ll be working with us,” Kiyoko answered for you. “A person who knows both Neokma and Karasuno to help with the alliance and any other problems. If you still wanted to do that to align yourself with Karasuno.”

Kuroo smirked and turned to face you. “Does that mean you’ll be answering my orders?”

“In your dreams.”

Once Kiyoko left the Hospital wing with a clean bill of health, Daichi and Sugawara came to visit you. You were surprised but didn’t complain.

“Feeling better?” Sugawara asked.

“Better than when I got shot,” you said. “It still hurts a bit, but what’s life without a little bit of pain?”

Daichi laughed. “Does this mean you’re staying at Karasuno?”

You shrugged. “Kind of. I’ll be going back and forth I imagine. Kuroo already asked me if I could give him a few pointers of being a leader.”

“That good. We actually wanted to tell you something,” Sugawara said.

“The both of you?”

Sugawara nodded. “First, I wanted to say that you should call me Koushi…if you want too of course.”

You smiled.

“Second,” he continued, “we’re not going to pretend that we know what your life is. We barely know you aside from being the leader of Neokma.”

“Former leader,” you corrected.

Daichi smiled. “But now that you’re going to spend more time at Karasuno...We both wish you’d see us more than a ghost of your mom.”

You swallowed. This definitely wasn’t how you thought the day would end.

“My mom...she was the loveliest person in the world. She’d wake me up smiling and was always a little too optimistic.” You smiled at the thought of her. You shook it out of your thoughts and held your head up high, she would have to wait. “Neither of you are the ghost of my mom, she already follows me around. When people like my mom die, when people like the both of you die, it leaves a scar with the rest and I don’t want that to happen. I don’t want that for Kiyoko, the members of Karasuno, and for me.”

Koushi and Daichi’s gazes soften.

“It might tell a little time,” you continued, “but I’ll try and we can go from there.”

They shared a look between the two of them and smiled back at you.

“That’s all we can ever ask for.”

THE END.

So...first….sorry that this is late...again.

Second...sorry that it’s not really romance heavy….that’s another thing I’ve been trying to work on.

I kind of wanted to have a semi open ended thing and hopefully this isn’t too bad to wrap things up…

If I have any loose ending or ideas you want tied up, you can ask and I’ll answer :)

I hope you all enjoyed it.

-Kiwi

Posted: 27/07/2020

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respectablesentiment · 4 years

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uhhhh a post seattle continuation story by respectablesentiment?! yes please 👀 i would be so curious to see how you would write their journey afterwards if santa barbara wasnt a thing. i know you would feed us well in terms of balancing plot, fluff, angst, smut. i know you said not to encourage you but im here to ask you to please think about it lmao 🙏

I love that you wrote my username specifically and for some strange reason it threw me off. Like obviously if you’re sending me an ask, then you’ve identified me as a person but also like directly being named is a weird experience.

Anyway, hello!

Thank you very much for your interest, you would be horrified to see the amount of posts like that in my drafts where I’ve written some half-assed explanation of an AU or a continuation fic and then never posted it (legitimately there are like 50+ posts in my drafts, just chillin, waiting for their moment)

I have actually given it a lot of thought and we all know, we all know, that it would involve therapy. It would probably end up a LOT darker than the third story I did (the ‘sad fic’) because like jesus christ, Ellie’s head would be a mess there.

I have added a cut here because this post got BIG and I’m sorry. I told you very very politely to not encourage me because I’m a big baby. I have no self control and will be putting myself into time out :(

I think her initial headspace would be focused on Dina being okay and just grief. But then I think returning to Jackson with her tail between her legs would be fucking awful for her. Like genuinely, genuinely awful. Like heart shattering, acid in your veins, fire in your throat, levels of anger, and frustration and shame.

I think reuniting with Maria (w/ Tommy in whatever capacity), and also w/ Jesse’s parents would be absolutely awful.

I don’t think Dina would be showing yet either, or maybe just starting too, so having to break that news would be bittersweet.

I think when they first return, they would go to Dina’s place. They would maybe spend some time at the clinic, but like.... they would want to be alone. And everywhere else is too overwhelming with Joel’s memory. They would wrap themselves up in the blankets in Dina’s bed, ignoring how Jackson makes them feel, like coming home w/ pieces missing, coming home w/ nothing achieved but more heartache, and they would just break.

I think they’d be cracks along the trip, maybe a total shuddering and sobbing breakdown at the theatre, but otherwise it would be quiet. Night terrors but the kind where you wake up silently with a weight on your chest. I think they would hold themselves together with trembling hands and breathlessness the entire fucking trip home and then as soon as they are alone, eyes still red, touchy and nervy from the day and the people, they would just break into a million pieces.

both of them.

like proper gut wrenching, shaking, painful sobbing, clutching each other so tight that it hurts, and they would just cry.

the kind of crying where it comes in waves, where you’re sobbing so hard you can’t breathe and then you manage to stop shaking enough to suck in a couple breaths and then you’re gone again.

the type of crying where at some point you think distantly “god this is catharsis’ and then later you realise you actually feel much much worse than before

And life would go on. Not for them, but around them. Jackson would continue, and they wouldn’t.

I think Ellie would sit by herself, either completely drained or full of energy. I think she would go for walks to tire herself out, maybe try to do some of the manual labour on a farm rotation without really saying anything, and people just let her.

I think Dina would read and one day go to Jesse’s parents house, and his mother would hug her, and they would drink tea, and not really talk but know that they would get there.

I think Ellie would leave the bed sometimes after a bad nightmare and try to read one of Dina’s books or maybe walk through Jackson under the moonlight. Trying to settle herself.

I think she’d do that maybe several times. Maybe more. But one night Dina will wake too and she will not be okay.

“If I’m asleep, I need you to stay with me. If you’re going somewhere, wake me. I want to go with you, doesn’t matter what time it is. You go, I go.” - Dina

Because holy fucking shit, Dina woke up into a nightmare - and I think every time she reaches for Ellie in bed and doesn’t find her then she’ll be back in that moment. Fucking terrified, and scared of what’s around every corner, and jesus christ if Ellie isn’t in the house?? if Ellie has gone for a walk, and Dina realises she isn’t there?? I think she could be angry sure, but in that moment - she would be absolutely fucking stuck.

I think they would both have significant trauma and I wouldn’t be capable of writing something that links Seattle Day 3 to the Farm chapter that we see - because they are not okay and not acknowledging it. And I think there’s a lot to be said about finding lightness and having good days among bad ones, but I couldn’t possibly write something about Ellie pretending or forcing herself to do something, and Dina either being oblivious or not acknowledging what Ellie is doing.

I think I would have to write the story as the shaky progression of that grief and those feelings through Dina’s pregnancy. And I would not have the heart to send them to the farm until after JJ is born and they are a bit more settled in themselves.

By after, I mean when JJ is about 3 months old. So a bit more manageable than straight up new born, and after definitely after winter. My timelines have him born in like Nov-Dec in the year, so like it would need to be after winter. Because not only has our poor baby girl Ellie gone through winter in tlou1 WITHOUT Joel, she then proceeds to LOSE Joel in winter.

like..... bitch, we should cancel the whole season at this point. ~winter is done~

Anyway anyway, I’m sure I could get it to a fluffy place - but my dumb brain cannot skip over the trauma. It’s like..... it’s like an unskippable cut scene in a video game. I’m mad at it, but I gotta sit through it.

ANYWAY I think they’d have a solid 1-2 months of Nothingness (that depression feel), and then start making meaningful strides before Dina reaches her third trimester. And then when they have their beautiful lil baby boy, and we get to see some special moments w/ them as a lil family, it would end with:

“We’ve got a little creature to take care of, how about we find a farmhouse?” - Ellie

#ask #a nice anon #writing plans #LOOK i said don't encourage me #i specifically said don't let me do this #and now I'm DISTRACTED #i'm only one (1) woman #i have a limited capacity and 90% of my brain is fictional queer women w trauma #i am writing the fun fic and FOCUSING on only that fun fic until it is done #pls support me by putting me in the gay baby jail that i belong in #the gf is really annoyed at me for spending so much time writing about this and not writing my current fic #the side eye is reeeeaaaaallll #you can see why i don't write about my headcanons because I CANNOT SHUT UP when i do #Anonymous #ellie x dina fic #tlou2 fanfiction #my writing

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thoughtfullyyoungduck · 4 years

Text

Arcade au part two

summary: can you do a part 2 to the Arcade Au

‘How did it go?’ Is the question Eddie asks first thing after Richie and Luke step back into the house. He has a nonchalant demeanor, but his hands are rubbed red from washing them over one too many times, a nervous tick Eddie has, and it exposes the true concernment Eddie is under.

‘It was alright’, Luke grants, tone bordering on boredom, uncaring about anything that has to do with the subject of Richie. Richie can’t be a hundred percent sure, but he’s pretty confident it’s simply a mask Luke wears to not reveal too much, just like his father did with Richie all the time in Derry. Eddie blanches for a second and then glances at Richie, who’s not succeeding in hiding his content of how the day went, a smile beaming his face and lets a gust of air escape.

‘Great, that’s great.’

Richie is filled to the brim with everything he wants to tell Eddie, but he required to wait until Luke leaves the room. He’s fallentering with three boxes stacked on the others, packed with donuts that Luke enjoys, he went a little overboard, kicking the door shut with his foot. Comically, in what could be an impression of an old tv sketch or a bug bunny cartoon, Richie juggles his way to keep all three boxes off the ground and in his arms. Some of the donuts are getting squashed, but Richie bought so many it’s not terrible to throw a few out. No rewards are granted for his efforts though, Luke and Eddie engaged in their own conversation without so much as a glance at his antics.

‘Your mom called,’ Eddie exclaims, ‘she asked me to ask you if she should pick you up. So you could eat dinner at her house?’

Luke mulls over it, shaking his head with a shrug. ‘Me and Richie already ate actually.’ Richie dares to look sheepish. ‘But we bought dessert I thought we could eat at the dinner table?’

‘Yeah of course,’ Eddie agrees easily, taking mercy on Richie and helping him with one box. ‘In a minute okay?’

‘I’ll be up in my room’, Luke agrees, deeming a goodbye to Richie and gliding up the stairs. The two lovers see him off, smiles never leaving their faces until he’s out of sight and unleashing the inner turmoil once he is.

‘What the fuck Eds? You’re going to skip straight to sweets? Before healthy, actual dinner? You gave me hell for that last week!’

‘You heard my son Rich, he chose to spend more time with us here and not go back to Myra so for once it’s fine. And that’s not important anyway, I’ll live. Tell me how it went? Inform me off all the details.’

‘I – I don’t know.’ He felt so confident a minute before, but now all the overthinking is chipping away at his brain again, nitpicking every small word and body signal Luke could have possibly send off and taking away his foundation of faith involving the situations. The crossing of his legs whilst in the car could signify Luke hating him. Luke’s reassuring words that Richie’s an okay guy with good intention could be a rouse to placate him and then hit him without Richie seeing it coming. Eddie’s apprehension about the situation rubbed off on him.

‘What do you mean you don’t know?’

‘I don’t think he liked me at first, there was a lot – a lot - of animosity but then I think I managed to steer to ship to safety and he ended up enjoying what we did. At least I hope so.’

‘Well what activity did you choose?’

‘Ah- an Arcade.’

‘Richie’, Eddie stated matter of fact, ‘I will kill you in cold blood and hire Stan to help me hide the body.’

Richie laughed besides himself, he fucking loved this man beyond belief. ‘You don’t like my artistic choices Eddie Spagheddie?’

‘No I fucking don’t. Who takes a fifteen year old to an arcade?’

Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales deeply, lips pulled downward in a sour expression. Richie’s heart plummets, the boxes tethering dangerously so hat Richie has no other option but to put them down, then stuffing his pockets full with his hands.

‘I was really trying Eds’, he promises, examining the spot in the carpet he caused by accidentally lighting a fire, in his clumsiness stamping against a candle that fell down and burned a piece of the carpet away. He most likely wasn’t designed for this sort of thing, to father a kid when he had childlike tendencies himself. Who was he kidding in pretending he ever stood a chance?

Eddie trains his gaze back on Richie, wrinkles softening around his eyes. ‘Oh Rich’, he says, so empathetic it burns Richie from the inside, too much and to sweet than he deserves, he needs to get rid of it.

‘Welp, that’s my cue to leave trough the backdoor and never come back, I might go see if I can find your mom somewhere show her a good time’, finger gunning his way to the door, Richie is quick to leave, only to get backtracked by Eddie.

‘No, stay.’ Richie does so immediately, and Eddie’s hand finds his upper back circling around and around to alleviate some tension there. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t want to make you feel like you weren’t doing a good job. You are, Luke is just cautious of new people. I’m sure you guys had fun.’

‘He hated me in at the start though, I could tell.’

‘Luke’s a broody teenager whose life recently got uprooted, of course he’s not going to be trilled, but if he truly despised you he wouldn’t hold back, he’s my son remember’, Eddie chuckled, coaxing out a smile on Richie too.

Richie rotates back around, scooping Eddie up in his arms and resting his worries in the middle between them, like Eddie is going to strike it all away in a heartbeat. If Eddie could, he would.

‘What if he doesn’t like me Eds? I really, really want him to like me.’

‘The judgment is still out on that one. But for now you’re okay.’ Luke voices, toying with the app on his phone in order to avoid an awkward conversation. ‘Can we eat desert? I’ve been craving it since Richie stopped to go get them.’

‘Wait, really? You think I’m cool?’

‘Don’t flatter yourself too much old man, I still beat you at the game you said you were best at, but I think you’re okay. Decent enough to date my dad.’

Richie smiles remains on his face even as he nods off to sleep later that night.

#reddie #richie x son #eddie x son #My writing #richie tozier imagine #eddie kaspbrak imagine #richie as a dad #eddie a dad

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spaceskam · 4 years

Text

why don’t we loosen up and dance a bit?

finally! the final day of my 12 (actually 13) days of gifts is here! This is a step up au for @lire-casander and i hope it makes up for the long ass wait :)

warning: implied child abuse, but there’s no details at all

ao3

“I don’t even know what to say.”

“How about, ‘I forgive you?”

Mimi DeLuca stared Michael down with eyes that could kill. He sunk into his chair and bowed his head, preparing for whatever punishment she wanted to throw on him.

“I just… I don’t understand what your thought process was. I mean, that’s your sister’s school you just decided to trash,” Mimi said, laughing hollowly as she threw her arms out. Michael felt a new feeling build inside him. It actually hurt that Mimi was disappointed in him. It was extremely new. He didn’t like it.

“She’s not my sister,” Michael snapped instead of letting the feeling fester. Mimi scoffed, her hands landing on her hips.

“You have been here for ten months, Michael Guerin. That means she’s your sister and I’m your mother. Maybe not by blood or to you, but under the law and in my mind, you are,” Mimi said. Michael would’ve smiled if he wasn’t being lectured. “Tell me, is there something going on? Do you need more attention? Therapy? Are you being bullied? Pressured? Talk to me, tell me. We can fix whatever it is.”

Michael gulped and suddenly wished it was something like that. The real answer was stupid and pathetic.

“I don’t know,” Michael admitted, “I did it because it was there.”

Mimi sighed and dropped her head in her hands. Michael watched her and held his breath. She didn’t look up for a long time.

“Are you gonna call my social worker?” Michael asked softly. Mimi’s head shot up and almost looked offended.

“No, absolutely not. This is your home, you aren’t going anywhere,” Mimi said firmly, “I’m going to take you to your court date and we are going to hope they let you off easy. Just like I would do for Maria.” Michael’s heart thudded wildly in his chest. It felt like favoritism even if it was really just being equal for once. “And, like Maria, you’re grounded for a month.”

“A month?!” he asked but he was smiling.

“A month. Now go to your room,” she scolded but she was smiling.

“Ugh, this is so not fair!”

“Life isn’t fair!”

Michael went to his own bedroom and laid in his own bed and decided that he would try really hard not to make her disappointed again.

Community service. That was his sentence.

“I can’t believe they assigned you to clean up my school. I’m suing,” Maria scoffed. Michael rolled his eyes and leaned in her doorway. She was putting on makeup before school and Michael was waiting to take her. He’d dropped out of school when he was 16 and started working. That was before he’d met Mimi‒now he was homeschooled.

Which gave him enough time to do his community service. Yay.

“Listen, if anyone asks, you’re not my brother,” Maria said. Michael huffed a laugh.

“I’m not your brother.”

Maria paused and then looked at him for a moment. “I mean, but you are though. But at school, you’re not because I don’t want people saying shit about me because we’re related.”

“We’re not related!”

“Shut up!”

A smile pulled at his lips as Maria flipped him off. He would never admit it to her face, but he loved these moments. He loved the way they just accepted him as apart of the family. He loved the way he could fuck up and they would still keep him. He didn’t, however, enjoy that stupid part of his brain that told him to fuck up. He knew better, but he found it hard to contain himself. It was something he had to work on.

“Can you drive me?” Michael asked as he followed her to the kitchen. She looked over her shoulder and raised her eyebrow.

"How am I supposed to lie about you being my brother if you're, like, in my car?" Maria asked. He did his best pouting face and made his eyes all big. She still didn't buy it. He groaned.

"I'll do your chores for the entire length of my community service."

Maria paused. "Done.”

Ark Kingdom School of the Arts looked a lot bigger and a lot fancier during the day. It made Michael feel a lot worse about the fact he’d trashed it.

“It’s huge,” Michael scoffed. Maria looked at him and gave a sarcastic smile.

“Yeah. Now go, run along,” she said.

“Fuck you,” he laughed.

“Ew, pass,” she said before heading off towards one of the four massive buildings. Michael shook his head with a laugh and began making his way towards the front office. There, he would get his lame uniform and begin his fun janitorial duties. For free.

The jumpsuit they gave him fit poorly and was certainly not his color, but he had no choice. Instead, he spent his day following a lovely old man who didn’t like to talk about anything that didn’t involve explaining to Michael in excruciating detail how he wanted things cleaned. Which, in his defense, this was the cleanest school Michael had ever seen.

He was making his way through each building slowly. Apparently, Monday was deep clean bathrooms day, Tuesday was deep clean the dance building, Wednesday was deep clean the music building, Thursday was deep clean the art building, and Friday was deep clean the theatre building. Or, at least for him it was. They were on rotation with the other janitors to make sure every building and all bathrooms got meticulously cleaned. The joys of private school or something.

On his lunch break, he decided to wander about the dance building and see if he could find Maria. Not that he wanted to talk to her, but he thought he could fuck with her from across the room to pass the time. He peered through the windows of the doors of all the classrooms and, for the most part, dance studios to see if he could see her.

Eventually, he saw her. She was talking to a boy who was stretching his obscenely muscular calves and laughing while he did it. Michael was entranced almost immediately. He had long, shaggy black hair that reached his shoulders and Michael got to watch as he raked it back into a bun at the nape of his neck. He decided right then that he was extremely angry at Maria for never introducing them.

Michael had known he was bisexual from a very young age, long before he had a word for it. He liked boys and he liked girls and he liked everyone in between and otherwise. People were pretty and he was supremely bad at hiding it. It was the main reason he was still being bounced around foster homes at sixteen. But now he found a nice home with a nice family or a family who pretended to be nice because what nice sister would hide such a beautiful man from him? That was just rude.

Well, he would just have to introduce himself.

Michael let himself into the room, strolling across the floor and straight up to Maria. They were both in leotards and tights and both looked all professional and ready to go and they both turned their attention onto him when he walked up.

“Maria, let me use your phone to call Mimi,” he said, not even trying to hide the fact that his phone was visible in his pocket. Maria scoffed and the boy gave him a once over, smirking softly.

“So this must be the guy who trashed the school and set me back a whole week of training in a proper studio,” the guy said. Michael flashed his most charming smile.

“Michael,” he introduced. The guy looked at him and then let out a laugh.

“Sorry, I don’t affiliate myself with criminals,” he said, walking away. Michael couldn’t find it in himself to be offended and he just whistled at the low blow, watching him walk away. In the middle of admiring the fine dancer’s ass, he received a hard hit to the back of his shoulder.

“What did I say?!” Maria hissed, her face scrunched up in an admittedly hilarious face.

“Sorry, sorry,” he laughed, still looking over at the boy who was now bent over completely. It was a very heavenly sight. “I was just trying to figure out why you didn’t introduce me to someone like him.”

“Like him? Like who? Alex?” she asked, disgust taking over her face, “No. Do not look at Alex, stop it.”

“So his name’s Alex?” Michael asked, biting down on his lip. He watched Alex slowly slide into a split and stretch a little more. “Fuck me. Is he into dudes?”

“If he is, I would not tell you! Get back to work!” Maria scolded, shoving him towards the door.

“Give him my number, will you?”

“Go to work!”

Michael did not. He instead spent his lunch break watching the two of them dance. He didn’t really have words for what they were doing, all he knew was that it was impressive. They moved around each other and with each other effortless, bodies in sync. It was clear that they were close and it was hard to figure out why he hadn’t noticed him before. He was stunning and talented and clearly friends with his foster sister. And Michael wanted to know him.

After school ended and Michael was just waiting for Maria to get out of class so they could leave, he ended up actually seeing Alex walking towards his own car. He couldn’t stop himself as he walked up to him. He was just too good to be true physically and Michael was eager to see if that extended to other parts of him as well.

“Hey!” he called, jogging up to him. Alex sighed and gave him a condescending smile that Michael loved. “Hey, I saw you dancing earlier. You are incredible.”

“Yeah, that’s why I go here,” Alex said. Michael licked his lips and smirked.

“You think I might be able to get a private show?” he asked. Alex’s jaw dropped slightly and he scoffed, shaking his head. Michael watched as his grip tightened on his backpack and took a step back. Maybe he was too forward.

“Didn’t you hear me earlier when I said I don’t affiliate with criminals? You literally almost ruined my chances for my competition by putting me out a week of proper practice space because you thought it was fun to destroy the studio,” Alex told him. Michael’s smirk dropped completely. “I don’t know why you think you’re hot shit, but you’re not. There is nothing cool about property damage. The fact that you don’t have to pay for it is bullshit and I really think it’s bullshit that they let you come on campus. And I don’t put up with guys like you who have no respect for anything. Bye-bye, now.”

Alex gave a little wave and then swiftly turned on his toes, walking towards his car. Michael sighed. So much for getting to know a guy that gorgeous. He probably was out of his league anyway.

“I told you,” Maria said as she came out of nowhere. Michael rolled his eyes. “No, but, really. Alex doesn’t do well with the whole flirting thing. Or relationship thing. He’s got a one-track mind and that’s to be successful enough to get out of this place.”

“This place?” Michael asked.

“Yeah. He wants to go to New York,” Maria answered as they walked towards the car, “Wants to be a professional dancer and get the fuck out of Roswell.”

“That sounds like a very uptight way to live,” Michael admitted. Maria just smiled at him and shook her head.

“Let him be uptight.”

That night, Michael laid in bed and thought about just how Alex had said he was disrespectful. He couldn’t figure out why it was stuck in his mind, but it seemed to be linked with the disappointed look Mimi had given him and the way the judge had stared at him. Was he disrespectful?

He supposed he didn’t really know. He didn’t see dancing or art or anything as that big of a deal. Sure, Alex was good at it and so was Maria, but was it even worth trying to make a career out of? Was it so serious that Alex would avoid people over it? Did he just not get it?

It bothered him. There was clearly something he wasn’t understanding.

Instead of sleeping that night, Michael spent hours researching different ballerinas. He read about tons and tons of people who had made a career out of their art. He’d read about people who seemed to live, eat, breathe dance. He saw videos of people who destroyed their feet and legs just to do what they loved to do. It seemed almost insulting to call it a talent when it really was just years and years of hard labor. It was serious. Missing a week of practice was serious. Missing anything was serious.

Michael was disrespectful.

“Hey! Wait up!”

“Oh my god, do you not know how to take no for an answer?”

Michael forced a sweet smile as Alex turned around. He was in baggy sweatpants today and they somehow looked just as good as the tights from the day before. He was just gorgeous. And, you know, hopefully into guys.

“Yeah, I do take no for an answer,” Michael said as nicely as he could, “And I didn’t like you telling me that I was disrespectful. I spent, like, all night learning everything I could about how hard it is to do what you do and… yeah, I was disrespectful. I’m sorry.”

Alex furrowed his eyebrows. “Okay? What, do you want a prize for having to do research for what should be common sense?”

“No, I’m just… admitting to my wrongs,” Michael said. Alex eyed him weirdly before nodding and waving curtly. Then he turned and disappeared into the building. Michael felt the desire to go after him again, but decided against it. Not only did he have to continue his community service, but he also knew this guy wasn’t his biggest fan. As hot as he was, he would need to keep his distance.

But they were cleaning the dance building all day.

Michael saw him in the halls and saw him looking some kind of gorgeous. His hair was down and messy and he had on a crop top that shouldn’t have looked as good as it did. Michael did his best not to look at him, not to stare, to let him be, but it was like some outside force kept throwing them in the same place. It was hard not to look.

The next few weeks went by just like that. Michael would see him and nod to him and admire him from afar. He’d watch Alex and Maria dance, slowly but surely memorizing the routine. He was growing a massive appreciation of both of them. They worked so hard. The appreciation seemed to make Alex warm up to him if only a little bit. It gave Michael another person that didn’t mind having him around.

Michael liked having people enjoy his presence.

“You guys should teach me how to do some of that,” Michael said to them as they caught their breath.

“Have you ever even danced before?” Alex asked. Michael smiled as he watched him dry his sweaty face with a towel. There were few things as hot as that man.

“I did, a little. Not like that. My old foster brother was a street dancer and he taught me a thing or two,” Michael mentioned. He’d actually taught Michael a bit more than just dancing, but that happened to be the main reason Michael had been taken out of the house. Sleeping with your foster siblings was a big no-no apparently.

“Okay, well, come over here,” Alex said. Maria rolled her eyes, but she held a hand out to him Michael grinned and walked over. “Alright, let’s try the basics. Put your feet like this.”

Michael stared down at their feet as they put their heels together and their toes pointed in opposite directions. He tried his best to copy them, but his feet weren’t nearly as straight as theirs. They both kicked his feet a little bit to try to make them straighter, but it didn’t really work.

“Okay, well that’s… kinda first position,” Maria laughed.

“Alright, and this is second position,” Alex said, spreading his legs a bit and raising his arms to his side.

“What the fuck is happening with your knees? Isn’t that bad?” Michael asked, listening to them both laugh.

“I mean, maybe, but ballet is all aesthetic,” Maria told him.

“That’s fucked.”

The two of them walked him through the five basic positions of ballet and found that he wasn’t actually half bad at doing them. Sure, they weren’t hard and he still struggled with a bit of footwork, but he wasn’t horrible at it. It was fun, actually.

It was the first time Michael realized he had friends.

Maria DeLuca fell in slow motion.

Michael saw it happen, watched as she tripped on the last step of the stairs over his bag and was helpless to actually try to help her. He heard her scream and she grabbed her ankle and she cried.

Fuck.

“What do you mean you sprained your ankle? Maria, the competition is in a month. This is important!”

Michael stood off to the side, averting his gaze as the two had a conversation. He felt sort of guilty. A lot guilty. It was his fault that she tripped and sprained her ankle. It was his fault that she was told to be on crutches for three weeks which left them both fucked for a competition that could get them scholarships.

“It’s not my fault, Alex.”

Alex tilted his head back and took a deep breath.

“I know, I know. I’m not trying to blame you, I just… I don’t know what I’m gonna do,” Alex groaned.

“I’m sorry. Maybe you could find someone else to rehearse with until I can get back on my feet?”

“I can do it,” Michael said. They both turned to him.

“What?” Alex scoffed, “You don’t dance.”

“I dance a little. I know your routine. And we can work on it and tailor it a little bit,” Michael continued. He started walking towards them, slowly convincing himself that this was totally a good idea so that maybe Alex would agree.

“You don’t even go to school here, Michael,” Maria sighed.

“So? Doesn’t mean I can’t help,” he said, “Look, it’s my fault that you tripped and I feel horrible. Let me at least try to make it up to you? I promise I’ll give it my all.”

“You have community service still,” Alex said.

“I’ll be finished in two days. Gives me all that extra time to work with you,” Michael said with a smile that was intended to be charming. He didn’t know if it was. He was typically lost on what Alex Manes found charming.

Alex sighed and looked between the two of them, clearly torn. Michael saw the moment Alex realized he didn’t really have much of a choice. He had to at least try.

“Fine.”

Michael smiled big and bright.

“I feel like this is a bad idea.”

“You offered, suck it up.”

Michael nodded hesitantly and then took a deep breath for preparation. Alex gave him a small nod and then began to run. Michael braced himself and prepared to catch him after his graceful leap.

And then they both tumbled to the ground.

Michael winced as the wind was knocked out of him in an attempt to save Alex from slamming his face on the floor.

“Dude, you have to actually catch me,” Alex sighed.

“Why can’t you catch me? You catch Maria,” Michael argued. Alex rolled his eyes and pushed himself up to his feet. He held out his hand for Michael.

“Because I’m the one who can jump properly, you can’t,” Alex said, “You also have the muscle to catch me.”

Michael gave a wounded gasp, his hand touching his heart. “Are you calling me fat?”

Alex rolled his eyes. “I’m saying you look like you could carry me without struggling and I’m used to lifting women that barely weigh 100lbs.”

“Valid,” Michael said, grinning which just seemed to irk Alex even more, “Alright, let’s try again.”

It took almost eight tries before Michael actually was able to catch and lift him. Alex wasn’t that impressed.

“Finally, fuck,” Alex scoffed. Michael snorted and shook his head and didn’t say a word about the little smile that appeared on Alex’s face.

They spent hours practicing the simplest things. Or, somewhat simply. Michael picked up the less technical things extremely quick. Body movement came easy, his hips and his arms and his legs moved as he wanted. What he was bad at was looking graceful.

“Why don’t you show me what you can do and so I can gauge what I have to work with,” Alex said, leaning against the wall and waving him on. Michael stood there awkwardly now that he was put on the spot. “Go on.”

Alex put on some trashy trap music and then smiled, seemingly really proud of his lame assumption as to what Michael could dance to. Annoyingly, he wasn’t that wrong.

It took a moment to stop feeling ridiculously uncomfortable, but he managed to do it. He blocked out the pressure and simply moved. He danced in ways he didn’t have words for. That was the thing, it seemed. Alex had words for every single move he did. Michael didn’t have that. He just moved with the way his body wanted him to.

“It’s good, really, it’s just not classical.”

“I’m not classically trained,” Michael laughed. Alex rolled his eyes.

“I know, but… Look, your dancing is, like, heavy. Picture that you’re light as a feather or like you’re dancing on a cloud,” Alex tried. Michael looked at him like he’d fucking lost it.

“A cloud? Your rich kid is showing.”

“No, look,” Alex scoffed, “Look at the difference. You spin like this.” Michael watched the very broad and admittedly heavy way he spun. His arms weren’t all poised, they were bent, and the spin itself was quick. It was all motivated by one swift push which was exactly how Michael had done it. “But it should look more like this.”

Once again, it was easy to become mesmerized by the way Alex moved. It was like he was born to do it with how effortless he made it look. But the fact was it wasn’t effortless. The way he could spin for minutes upon minutes and how all of his choices were refined. They all came with a purpose that Michael’s never did.

“Okay, so, if we’re pointing out nit-picks, I think your style is stiff,” Michael accused after the spell Alex put on him broke. Well, technically, it didn’t break. Alex had simply stopped dancing and so Mciahel’s brain started working a bit better. Now, he just looked extremely offended.

“Excuse me? Stiff? I am not stiff!”

“I mean, you kinda are. Even when you’re making fun of how heavy I move, it’s stiff. I’m loose,” Michael told him, smiling sweetly. Alex scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Says the man wearing jeans rather than the tights I gave him,” Alex shot back.

“It had a thong!”

“It’s called a dance belt!”

Alex put his hands to his forehead and walked in a circle. Michael watched him patiently, letting him think. He liked watching him think. He liked watching him do a lot of things. He even liked the tights‒just as long as they were on Alex and not him.

“Okay, okay,” Alex said, looking at him with a new look on his face. He let his long hair down and then tied it back again. Michael dreamed of a day he left it down all the time. “You learn to get light and wear the tights, and I’ll work on loosening up.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Why do I have to do two things?”

“Because it’s my routine.”

With a slow nod, Michael surrendered. He already knew he would. Imagine telling someone that looks and acts like that no?

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Wanna see something cool?”

“Is it my ass in those thong tights because I already looked at that.”

“Shut the fuck up and come on.”

Michael grinned as Alex unlocked the car door for him. Two weeks of practicing and slowly but surely they were meeting in the middle. In fact, they’d mashed something together that wasn’t quite hip-hip dancing, but wasn’t quite classical either. It was a mesh of something amazing, something theirs. He loved it.

He climbed into the passenger side of Alex’s car and let him drive out of the school parking lot.

The two of them hadn’t actually spent much time alone outside of the school and especially never without Maria, but the idea of it alone had Michael excited. He’d wanted him from the moment he saw him.

When they stopped at a red light, Alex let down and shook it out. It had a little wave to it from being up all day and he ran his hand through it to loosen it more. Michael had to take a deep breath at the sight. He had to restrain himself from reaching out and touching.

“I like your hair like that,” Michael said.

“I don’t care what you like,” he said. Michael smiled at him.

The drive didn’t last too long, but it was a part of town Michael had actually never been. Granted, he’d been on a relatively tight leash since he got to Roswell since he had a pretty shitty track record when he came to the DeLuca household. But, even if he hadn’t, he probably wouldn’t have gone to the wooded area that Alex had brought him.

Alex got out first without a word and began heading towards the woods and Michael took a second to admire him. He had changed into a pair of form-fitting sweats and had on a loose crop top that showed a few inches of tan skin on his back. Michael almost died the first time he experienced touching that.

“Where the hell are we going?” Michael asked as he followed Alex into the trees.

“Somewhere cool.”

Alex walked the stone pathway with large strides and a skip in his step, his hair whipping around him in the most intoxicating way Michael had ever seen. It was hard not to stare. The only reason he stopped staring was because of the giant treehouse with a winding fucking staircase they ran up to.

“Holy shit,” Michael scoffed. Alex took the steps three at a time and disappeared inside the door before Michael could even start to climb. He raced just as fast.

Entering the room felt like entering a whole new world. It was very clearly old with the way the tree had begun to grow inside, but it looked like it was very well kempt otherwise. It wasn’t hard to realize that was Alex’s doing as he very comfortably landed on the massive bean bag chair in the middle of the room.

“What is this place?” Michael asked, slowly beginning to walk around the room. The more he walked, the more it felt like Alex. There was a massive empty space to the left of the bean bag bed and the tree limbs that had invaded the windows were groomed to be shelves. One had a cardigan draped over it and the other had a participation trophy with a ballerina on top. Behind the trophy was a certificate announcing that Alex Manes had danced his way to win a countywide competition at age 12.

“I found it when I was 14 and I started hiding out here when things got bad at home,” Alex answered. Michael looked over to him at the brutally honest admission, but Alex had eyes that didn’t give him space to inquire what exactly bad meant for him. “The lady who owns the property found out I was staying here and, instead of kicking me off her property, she made special windows that would fit around the limbs so I wouldn’t have to worry so much about animals at night.”

“That was nice,” Michael said, only now noticing that there were indeed windows. He wondered how she even made those.

“Yeah, she’s awesome. Our deal is that I get her groceries so she doesn’t have to go into town and I can stay here for free.”

“Wait, you live here?” Michael asked, eyes widening accidentally. Alex shrugged, shifting in the bean bag bed. It was hard to picture that someone like Alex could live in a place without running water. He always looked so nice. He went to a rich school for fuck’s sake.

“I couldn’t stay at home.”

“How do you go to AKSA then?” Michael asked, standing in the middle of the floor and staring at the boy in the bean bag. Alex leaned back slowly, his hair pooling around him as he looked up to Michael. It made Michael feel weird for some reason.

“Scholarship.”

“Why’d you show me this?” Michael said a little softer. He didn’t understand why he was worthy of this information. He’d never been worthy of anything in his life.

“I bet you could use the competition as your audition,” Alex admitted. That caught Michael off guard.

“Huh?”

And Alex just shrugged and patted the bean bag beside him.

Michael complied and tried not to think about what he’d just said.

“Am I loose enough?” Alex asked as they settled into the bean bag. Truly, it was big enough that they didn’t have to touch. They could’ve easily been only opposite sides without a problem. Instead, they met in the middle. Michael wanted to kiss him more than he’d ever wanted to kiss anyone in his entire life.

Typically, a thousand shitty things would flood his mind to make fun of him or flirt with him would come to his mind. He wanted to now. He wanted to make a joke. Instead, he whispered, “Yeah.”

Alex took a deep breath, his dark eyes flickering over Michael’s face. He was so close. So, so, so close. Michael clenched and unclenched his fists a million times as he tried to decide what was and was not okay when it came to Alex Manes. Fuck, he still had no idea if Alex was even into guys. He’d never said he was, but he never said he wasn’t and it sometimes seemed like he might be.

Before he could ask, cold fingertips pressed to his hip. Michael held his breath. He focused completely on the sensation of Alex slowly dragging his fingers over his side and up to his jaw. It wasn’t really anywhere Alex hadn’t touched before when they were dancing, but this was something else entirely and it was making him feel dizzy. Maybe the holding his breath part wasn’t really helping, but still.

“Is this okay?” Alex asked as the pads of his fingers fanned over Michael’s jaw. He finally breathed and it was horribly shaky. Which was bullshit. He’d kissed before‒done a lot more than kiss before‒but this seemed to have him fucked up ten times over.

It had everything to do with the way Alex welcomed him into his space. This was a fragile gift that Michael had to take care of. He was terrified.

“Yes.”

Slowly, Alex leaned in and kissed him. It was slow and shaky and short. When it ended, Alex took a deep breath and opened his eyes to make sure that it was still okay. Michael thought he was floating.

“I’ve never done that before,” Alex whispered. Michael rubbed his arm, holding him close and waiting for permission to kiss him again.

“Done what?”

“Kissed someone. Not for real, only… only in plays,” Alex admitted, gulping. His hand was still on Michael’s cheek and he seemed frozen just a few centimeters away from his lips. Typically that admission would scare the shit out of Michael and he would find an excuse to leave, but this time he couldn’t find the fear. Or not the fear of that. He was only scared that he’d ruin it.

“Do you wanna stop?” Michael wondered. He really hoped he wouldn’t want to, but he would if he wasn’t ready.

Alex didn’t give a verbal answer, only moving in and kissing him senseless.

Michael stayed until well past dark.

“I hate dropping you off,” Alex all but whined as they decided to wrap up their rehearsal for the day, “I just wanna take you home with me.”

“You could always stay,” Michael said, fiddling with the ends of his hair that he’d been wearing down a lot more now, “They wouldn’t suspect a thing.”

“Tempting, but no,” he hummed. Michael smiled and shook his head, leaning in for an all too chaste kiss. They had so many of those and Michael was overwhelmed with them sometimes. It seemed every other person he kissed was all with the intention to get them in bed within the next hour. With Alex, he still was scared to break it.

Two weeks. Two weeks of both dancing and making out with Alex Manes. It was the best two weeks of his entire life. They hadn’t told anyone for selfish reasons only, enjoying the ability to dance and dance and dance and then have it turn into something more without anyone suspecting anything.

It helped even more that they’d showed their dance to the Dean. If all went well, Michael would be starting the next semester as a new dance student of AKSA. He didn’t know he even wanted that until he was told he might be allowed to have it. Now all he could think about was what else Alex could make him realize he was allowed to have.

“You need better deodorant, your sweat smells like you took a shower in must,” Alex murmured against his lips. Michael scoffed.

“You’re such an ass.”

“I am not, I’m helping.”

“Helping? Helping?”

Alex’s laughter rang through the room as Michael’s fingers dug into his side, slowly bringing them both the floor as he tickled him. He didn’t stop until he was firmly on top of him and had replaced the tickling with kisses on his neck. Maybe Michael’s sweat was horrific, but Alex’s wasn’t. It was something borderline addictive. It was all too easy to drag his tongue over Alex’s damp collarbone and up his glistening throat.

“You’re disgusting,” Alex said, but it held a lot less venom than his insults usually did. The way he tightened his arms around Michael’s shoulders didn’t go unnoticed. “We-we should probably not do this here.”

“Seriously, sneak in tonight,” Michael whispered, “The showcase is soon and we won’t get to mess around as much.”

Alex shoved gently at his shoulders, though, and Michael took that as his cue to sit up. He stared up at him with those big dark eyes again.

“I can’t,” Alex said, shaking his head and sitting up, “I… I have to…”

“If you don’t want to spend the night with me, that’s fine. I won’t be angry,” Michael promised. It hurt a little bit, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew that was all on him.

“Okay, then I don’t want to spend the night with you. Not yet, at least,” Alex said and then his shoulders squared and that hardened look in his eye returned. It was the first time Michael noticed the transformation. He admired it. “I have a lot more important shit to focus on than whatever goes on in your mind and you know that.”

“I do.”

“Good. Don’t be late to practice tomorrow or you’re walking home,” Alex said as he stood to his feet. Michael smiled at him. He was perfect.

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m so excited!”

“Me too.”

Michael hovered in the doorway as he watched Maria and Alex talk after class. She was springing with joy that she was all better and could come back and get back to dancing. That morning, Michael had been happy for her. Now, watching her take Alex back made him realize that he’d jumped to quickly to celebrate.

Alex glanced over at him with that same blank look that Michael couldn’t read. Usually, he loved it. Right now, it was like being shot in the foot with his own gun.

“Alex,” Michael said as he made his way over to them. Maria looked over him like she had just put it together in that moment as well. Her getting her partner back meant fucking over Michael. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Alex nodded and they stepped off to the side.

“So, what, you’re just going to go back to dancing with her?” Michael asked softly. Alex nodded again and lifted his arms to pull his hair back into the low bun. “But what about me trying to audition? Our routine was what was going to get me my in.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t just bail on her. She’s worked her ass off, she deserves to show off to the people that are coming,” Alex told him. Michael furrowed his eyebrows. He knew that. He knew that better than anyone, he lived with her. But still. Maria had a lot of things. This was Michael’s one thing.

“Okay, but this was‒”

“I’m sorry,” Alex said again, “Maybe you can find another partner.”

“It sort of feels like your breaking up with me,” Michael said and when Alex didn’t respond, he scoffed, “Dude, what the fuck? You’re just going to cut ties with me because I can’t be a fancy dancer?”

“No, we’re just very different and I’ve realized that my career is more important than some guy,” Alex said simply. It was cold and hardened and Michael knew it was the mask. “My routine with Maria is what I’ve been working on for months before I spent a little time working with you. That’s what will help my career.”

“Okay, Alex,” Michael scoffed, shaking his head, “Okay. I thought we established you could be honest to my face and I won’t get mad.”

Alex stared at him for a moment. Michael waited for the painful truth.

“It’s easier if I don’t get attached to you,” Alex admitted softly. It was a lot less painful than Michael was expecting.

“You say that like I’m not already attached to you,” Michael told him. Again, he stared. “Look, Alex, why can’t we‒”

“It’s a bad idea. This was a bad idea in the first place.”

“I thought you were loosening up.”

“Maybe I loosened too much.”

Michael nodded slowly and tried not to take it to heart. If this is what Alex wanted, then who was he to argue otherwise?

“Oka, whatever. I’ll see you around,” Michael said, huffing a laugh, “Actually, no. I won’t.”

He left the room and tried not to be too pissed. How silly of him to think he could have nice things.

“Mopey, mopey, mopey Mikey.”

Michael groaned into his pillow at the sound of Mimi’s voice. He knew he had been moping for the last week, but he couldn’t help it. He got a taste of something real, something better, and it was just snatched away from him because he wasn’t good enough. Again.

“I’m not leaving until we talk,” Mimi insisted, her voice getting closer. His bed shifted as she sat beside him. “What’s wrong, honey?”

“Nothing,” Michael grumbled.

“Yeah, okay, I don’t believe that,” Mimi said, “Can I hold your hand?” Michael grunted in response, but he would be lying if he said the motherly way she squeezed his hand didn’t make him feel better. “What’s wrong?”

After a minute of silence, Michael finally answered, “I had a chance to audition for Ark Kingdom and… now I can’t.”

Mimi tensed up and her heels tapped quietly on the floor, but she pushed away her excitement for him. Moments like that made him feel like the most loved man in the world. He shifted a little bit to look up at her.

“What happened?” she asked.

“I was dancing with Alex and, when Maria got better, he sort of just dropped me for her. And I know it’s stupid because it’s her school and it’s her dance, but I just… I don’t know, I liked feeling like I had potential for once,” he admitted. Mimi gave him a sad little smile and squeezed his hand tighter.

“You still have potential even without the school. You are so smart and apparently talented, not that you’ve ever shown me any dance moves,” she teased. He gave a small smile, but it didn’t last long. He was angry about the school and he was angry about losing a chance at something more, but he couldn’t help but feel sad about not being with Alex. He liked kissing him and he liked dancing with him and he liked being allowed in his safe place. He felt welcome. Turns out he’d spent so much time scared he might fuck things up with Alex that he never even considered the fact that Alex might’ve done the fucking. “Oh wait, I know that look. Are you upset about the school or about the boy?”

Michael scrunched up his nose. “Both?”

Mimi rolled her eyes. “You know you can get one of those things back, don’t you?”

“I don’t think I can. He seemed pretty set on career first, fuck anyone else,” Michael explained. Mimi squeezed his hand again.

“How about this, come to their performance tonight. We can bring flowers for the both of them and maybe it’ll give you an excuse to talk to him,” she suggested. Michael groaned again. He really didn’t want to go. As much as he loved watching Alex dance, it just felt like torture to watch him. He wasn’t wanted anymore. “Come on.”

“That feels like torture.”

“Well, you’ve been in bed all week. You need to get up anyway, might as well try to win your boy back,” Mimi said. Michael still frowned. “Let’s go.”

“And if he rejects me?”

“Then he’s not worth it.”

Michael very reluctantly agreed, but only because he had no idea how to tell her that he was worth everything.

“He’s been just as miserable as you, you know?”

Michael ignored Maria as they drove. She had to be at the venue early, so they were leaving early and they would simply wait until showtime. Mimi and Maria sat up from and Michael sat in the back beside two bouquets of flowers.

“He misses you,” Maria continued. Michael stared out the window. Alex hadn’t once tried to talk to him, so it didn’t seem like she was telling the truth. If he missed him so much, where was he?

“Michael, I think you should go talk to him,” Mimi chimed in.

“I’ll figure it out when we get there. Maybe I will, maybe I won’t,” Michael grumbled. He didn’t have to look to know that both women rolled their eyes at him.

The idea of trying to make nice with Alex felt like a stupid, pointless thing to do. Alex was pretty dead set on wanting to focus on his career and not have to worry about boys. It was a valid thing, too. Michael couldn’t even fault him. Sure, it fucked him over, but that was just the name of the game.

Alex was gifted and a hard worker. Michael shouldn’t expect anything on par with that when he hadn’t even started striving for anything until he met Alex.

Michael got out of the car after Maria and could feel her eyes on him. They had been on him for the last week. He knew she felt bad, but he also knew she had no reason to be. She had been dancing with Alex since the beginning of the school year. Michael just swooped in and stole him, so she had every right to take him back. Still, she seemed to be guilty.

“Michael,” she said, pulling him off the side as Mimi went to walk into the lobby, “I think you should go dance with him.” Michael furrowed his eyebrows.

“What?”

“I think you should go dance with Alex and try to get in,” she insisted, sincerity on her face. He shook his head.

“No, are you crazy? You’ve worked so hard for this, I’m not taking it from you,” he told her. She shrugged.

“My ankle is still sore, it’s not as good as it could be, I’ll just be holding him back,” Maria said, but he wasn’t sure how much truth that held.

“But your routine will help his career, that’s what they want to see.”

“Our routine is just that. A routine. What you guys came up with will get you both further,” she insisted. Michael simply stared at her and tried to find another way to say no. Not only was this not fair to her, but Alex also didn’t want to dance with him. He didn’t want to ruin both of their shots. “Listen, I’ll dance at the end of the year showcase, I’ll be fine. This is important for both of you.”

“Alex doesn’t want to dance with me,” Michael tried. Maria scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, he really does. Just go make him see that you’re serious about it,” she said, shoving his shoulder, “Break a leg. It’ll be great.”

“Why are you doing this for me?” Michael asked softly. Maria simply smiled.

“You’re my brother. I want what’s best for you.”

Michael’s throat tightened and grabbed her in a tight hug. Maybe he could have nice things.

“Alex! Alex, hey, wait!”

Alex looked more annoyed than ever as he turned around and Michael almost forgot what he was going to say. He was in a pair of black tights, a black form-fitting jacket-like shirt, and a pair of black ballet shoes. His hair was slicked back into a low bun like it always was, but his make-up was done up all nice and glittery. He looked like a vision.

“What do you want?” Alex asked with a sigh.

“I want to dance with you,” Michael said. Alex furrowed his eyebrows. “Please let me.”

“But Maria‒”

“She already said it was okay,” Michael insisted. Standing in front of Alex again and knowing that he had a chance had him nearly bouncing with desperation. He wanted to dance with him again. He wanted to touch him again. He wanted to feel important again. “Look, when we first met, you said I was disrespectful. And then I apologized, but I don’t think I knew just how disrespectful I really was until I started dancing with you. You showed me how much hard work went into it and how good it felt to succeed. You showed me that I could be something more, that I could, like, have respect and that it would mean something. I want it to mean something again.”

Alex shook his head, huffing a laugh. “Everyone here worked their ass off. You got lucky. Why should you get rewarded?” Michael smiled at him.

“Yeah, I did get lucky. I met you,” Michael said. Alex closed his eyes. “And I’m not saying anything has to go back to how it was or anything, I just want a chance to prove myself. I want to be someone better. I know you don’t want to get attached to me and I respect that, but please. Let me dance with you.”

“One condition,” Alex said softly. Michael smiled.

“Anything.”

“Go get your tights and your make-up on.”

Michael rolled his eyes, but agreed with a small, “Absolutely.”

By the time it got to their turn to perform, Michael was dressed up similarly to Alex. Black tights, black shirt, black ballet shoes, and his makeup was done just the same. As nervous as he was, he was all but bouncing to get on stage and do all the things he spent practicing with Alex. He wanted to impress everyone. He wanted to show them he wasn’t just a criminal.

They stood in the left wing and Alex grabbed his hand. He pressed a soft kiss to the back of it and all the nerves bled from his system.

“Don’t fuck this up,” Alex said in a low voice. Michael smiled and they made their way on stage.

Just like the first time, moving with Alex was natural. It didn’t feel like they’d missed a week of practice. It felt like this was what they were made to do. This was it. This was life.

Even if they had fucked up, Michael knew that Alex was intoxicating as he spun with his glittery face under the lights. He almost got lost in it, but not so lost that he didn’t catch him. They leaped, they spun, they became entwined. It was hard to deny anything.

The piece ended with them both on the floor, poised and posed and facing one another with heavy breaths. People cheered for them, but the only thing Michael could see was Alex. The lights faded and Michael helped him to his feet, exiting the stage before pulling him into a hug.

Surprisingly, Alex hugged back.

“I’m already attached,” Alex whispered to him. Michael hugged him tighter.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Oh my god! That was amazing!” Mimi squealed once they exited the green room. She and Maria were already waiting for them and, while Michael entirely expected that, Alex didn’t and he clung to Michael’s shoulder for a moment.

“Thanks,” they both said.

“I knew I made the right choice,” Maria said, grinning very proudly at herself.

“You’re going to take credit for how well we did, aren’t you?” Michael asked.

“Absolutely.”

“I’m so proud of you!” Mimi said, stealing back the attention to shower them in more praise. She hugged them both tightly and it occurred to Michael that Alex probably wasn’t used to this level of love either. He gave him an encouraging smile. “I had no idea you could dance like that!”

“I learned from the best,” Michael grinned.

“We taught him so well,” Maria told her.

“Oh, shut up.”

“We need to go out to dinner to celebrate! Alex, can you come too, sweetie?” Mimi asked. Alex blinked and looked to Michael before nodding. “Awesome! Oh, this is‒”

“Mr. Guerin, may I have a word with you?” Everyone turned towards the voice to see the Dean standing there. With a squeeze to Alex’s hand, Michael nodded and stepped over to her.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“I don’t want to keep you from your family,” she said, glancing over to the DeLucas. Family. He smiled. “But you have an appointment in my office Monday morning at 6 AM. Don’t be late and bring your transcripts.”

“Wait, so I got in?” he asked. She smiled.

“You really proved yourself up there. That took hard work.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much,” he gushed. She nodded and patted his shoulder before letting him go back to Maria, Mimi, and Alex.

“So?” Alex asked first, giving him one of the most genuine smiles Michael had ever seen him give in front of other people.

“I got in.”

In an instant, Alex was kissing him and then his family was hugging him and he was loved. He was lucky and he was loved.

He was going to be someone.

#my 12 days #malex #malex fic #malex au #michael guerin #michael guerin fic #alex manes #alex manes fic #roswell new mexico #roswell new mexico fic #rn #rnm #rnm fic #my fic

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calligraphist-artemisia · 4 years

Text

The Smallest Blade (Part vi)

Summary: AU. Kolivan knew raising a half-Galra cub wouldn’t be an easy task, especially while running a super secretive organization dedicated to bringing down a corrupt empire. What he didn’t take in consideration was how much the boy would change his life.

Also posted on AO3 under the username Kishirokitsune

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vi.

Shiro sat on a couch in what had been dubbed The Playroom.

He could see Katla and Keith giddily racing across the obstacle course he set up for them; a more age-appropriate version of the one the training hall was able to generate. Katla took eagerly to the higher path, swinging herself across bars and learning how to use her tail to keep her balance on the thinner beams. Keith raced across the lower path with unexpected grace, seemingly aware of what dangers were waiting to trip him up.

Shiro would have to rearrange it again since they were tackling it so easily, but that could wait for another day.

It was a calm day. The cubs hadn't tried to sneak away or get into any other mischief and his arm had only twinged in pain once. Shiro relaxed on the couch with his tablet in hand, reviewing his lesson plan for the group of new trainees he agreed to teach once a week. He glanced up every now and then, just to keep an eye on things, but otherwise left Keith and Katla to their games.

Shiro worked until movement from the next room caught his attention. He looked up to see Mattox hovering in the doorway, looking unsure about something. When he realized he had Shiro's attention, Mattox stood up a little straighter and walked over to him.

“Is everything alright?” Shiro asked.

Mattox nodded. “I, um, I'm starting my training soon. Dad says I'll start my rotations in the science division and then transition to engineering and tech so that I get a good feel for everything before I decide on my focus.” He paused as Katla let out a particularly loud squeal before tackling Keith onto the padded floor.

Shiro gestured for him to continue.

“I'm supposed to pick a weapon to train with too. Adamiv suggested I ask for your help.”

Shiro saved his work and set aside the tablet, prepared to devote all of his attention to helping Mattox. “I'd be happy to. Do you have a weapon in mind?”

When Mattox responded, his voice sounded like it was coming from far away. Shiro frowned and tried to ask again, but couldn't get the words out. His body grew heavy and black spots danced across his eyes before darkness overtook his vision.

Shiro groaned and opened his eyes. It took him a moment for his brain to catch up with what was going on.

His surgery.

That was... recent?

Yes.

He'd been dreaming of a memory that was nearly a year old. He spent days working with Mattox after that – leaving Adamiv to look after Keith and Katla – until Mattox chose a staff as his preferred weapon. While a sword was the more traditional weapon, the science and technology divisions weren't held to the same rigorous standards of those who were sent out into the field.

Shiro stared up at the ceiling for a moment longer, letting his memories slot properly into place, and then slowly turned his head to look around the room. He wasn't at all surprised to see Keith and Katla curled up in one chair together, both sleeping peacefully. They were the most vocal in their worry in the days leading up to his surgery and had barely let him out of their sight, much to the amusement of the other adults.

He smiled as he watched them. They were precious, really – like the little siblings he always wished he had while growing up.

“Shiro?”

The voice was soft, nearly a whisper, and came from someplace on his right. Shiro turned his head towards the voice and found Mattox sitting in a second chair right next to his bedside. “Hey,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“How do you feel?” Mattox asked.

Shiro wasn't sure if there was a word to describe how he felt or if his brain was too sluggish to think of the correct one, so he shrugged instead. The motion felt... odd.

He looked down at his right arm, which was no longer a familiar violet color but instead a matte gray. He raised his hand to better examine the metal plating and the way it flexed as he moved each finger.

Mattox slowly stood up and made sure he had Shiro's attention before speaking again. “Ulaz said to call him once you wake up. I think he wants to run a few tests and make sure everything's working right.

Shiro let his arm fall back onto the bed, forcing himself to look back up at the ceiling as tears gathered in his eyes. He knew it had to be done. He had agreed to it when Ulaz first brought it up as a potential solution. If losing his arm was the only way to stop the disease from ravaging his body, then he would do it.

He agreed to it.

His arm was gone, replaced by unfeeling metal.

He agreed to it.

Why did he feel like crying?

Mattox was replaced by Ulaz, who spoke quietly to him and talked him through breathing exercises. Shiro latched onto the familiar voice and followed his directions until the panic began to ebb away and his tears stopped flowing.

“Ulaz, I...” Shiro couldn't find the right words, but it didn't matter.

Ulaz laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “No matter the circumstances, this is a harrowing ordeal for even the strongest of warriors and I have witnessed far worse reactions than the one you are currently having. You are doing well, Shirotak.”

A weak, half-hysterical laugh bubbled free from Shiro's throat. He didn't feel like he was doing well. The panic was still there, calmed for the moment but simmering away beneath the surface. The worst part of it was not knowing why it was bothering him so badly. He knew what was happening. It was hardly a shock to wake and find that his arm had been replaced by something mechanical after all of the months they spent preparing him for surgery.

Shiro glanced at his arm again.

“It will take time for your mind and body to adjust to this change,” Ulaz patiently reminded him. “I recommend you main here for three days so that I can monitor you. After that, a weekly check-up for the remainder of this month. I have no doubt that you will be back in fighting shape within the next few months, but that hinges on whether or not you follow my directions.”

“Yes, sir,” Shiro agreed.

Ulaz eyed him for a moment and then stepped away as Keith and Katla began to wake. He stopped them before they could jump into Shiro's bed and jostle him around, reminding the cubs that they needed to be careful.

“You have one hour of visitation,” Ulaz said before leaving the room. He passed Mattox on the way and briefly paused to say something to him, but Shiro couldn't hear what was said.

It didn't matter as he was soon distracted by Keith and Katla who fidgeted as they held themselves back from mobbing him. Mattox soon joined them, slipping in next to Katla. Shiro smiled at them, devoting all of his energy toward putting them more at ease with what was going on.

Things would be okay. He knew that. He just needed to take things one step at a time.

#voltron #kidge #kidgemas #The Smallest Blade #fanfiction #I call this The Shiro Chapter #next chapter features an even bigger timejump #and will probably return to Kolivan's POV

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emotionalcello-makefanfics · 5 years

Text

Coffee Caramel Flan (JayTim Fic for Fictober)

Prompt number: 25 .“I could really eat something.”

Fandom : DCU/Batman. No powers AU

Rating: General Audience

Warnings/Tags: None/ Angst, Fluff,

Summary : Tim is sick and became an even pickier eater. Jason is determined to make Tim eat. But, of course, things aren't as simple as that.

Word count : 4k

Click link to read on AO3

Click keep reading to read on tumblr~

+++++++

“Can’t you just eat a spoonful?”

“How about no.”

“Oh c’mon. I’m literally running out of food recipes.”

“I can’t today.”

“What is it? Too bland? Too salty?”

“Just drop it, Jason,” Tim finally snapped, his eyes look apologetic before he looks away.

The room fell quiet, though it never really is. The news has been playing all night long from their upstairs neighbor, and a recording of 60’s retro music quietly hums from the room next door. The fan on top of them whines as they blow a barely-there wind, signs of old age. Their apartment is as tidy as a dead beat one can. Random stuff for the coming garage sale are tidily packed but taking the corners to resides. It’s not much, but it’s home sweet home.

Days like these are often for Jason. Especially when Tim is sick, he’s a picky eater, just like now.

“What about some flan with coffee caramel, you liked those,” Jason attempt to coax Tim to eat one last time. When the small frame finally turns towards him, Jason felt like a medal of honor is blessed upon him.

“I thought the dishes are a bitch, so you only make those once a month,” Tim whispered sheepishly, hiding half of his face under the thin wool blanket.

The skin above Tim’s bony his joints is blooming red, as well as his sickly nose and teary eyes. Tim has never been this sick before, but then again, there are times where Jason had thought so too and Tim always healed. There’s no need to worry, Jason said to himself over and over again. He can take care of Tim, he’s the only one who can.

“I’m desperate,” Jason says to the empty air. Blinking his haze away, he looks back to Tim who knits his eyebrows together, “At this point, I’m ready to make anything as long as you eat and get well soon.”

The little 18-year-old melts, and whenever Jason sees Tim that way, he fell in love all over again.

“I love you, Jason,” Tim says as he sits up and lands a kiss on Jason’s cheek, not wanting to pass the cold.

Jason frames the heart-shaped face in his calloused hands. Tim’s pretty face graced with that pretty smile, it’s almost sinful how Jason is allowed to touch him.

Never a day passed by that Jason doesn’t feel blessed that Tim’s here, that Tim chooses to stay with him.

“I love you too, Timmy.”

++++

“How’s your runaway?”

“Tim’s not running from home. His parents knew exactly where he is and my address, and never bother to pick him up,” Jason put a cigarette between his lips and open his hand to his nosy friend to give his lighter back.

After lighting up his own, Roy hands it. “Gotta admit, I didn’t expect Tim to last long staying in your place for...” Roy drags in, and huffs a white puff of some to the warm sunset sky how long has it been?”

“... Six months,” Jason said after puffing the lit cigarette and takes a long drag from the filter.

“Dang, he can live without his golden toilet?”

Jason smacked the back of his redhead, “Shut up, he’s tougher than you think.”

As he smacked Roy’s head, his image seems to blur. He thought it’s the smoke, but it seems to disappear, or maybe the sun, but it’s cloudy right now. Whatever caused it, when focus came back, Roy has a different demeanor.

“Sure, your Tim is.”

“The fuck is that suppose to mean?”

Roy smirks and pushes the wall with his back, “You know what I meant, coo-coo brain. I’ll see you tomorrow when you’re better.” The redhead disappears around the corner leafing ribbons of white from the burning cig.

Jason doesn’t let what Roy said get to him. Cigarettes help. After the third one is finished, he goes back to kitchen duty.

+++++

“Tim? I’m home!” Jason declared as he locks the door behind him. When he steps in, the room is empty.

Tim is not in the kitchen or lounging on the sofa, not even in his bed where he’s supposed to be resting, and there’s no voice in the shower.

Before he starts to panic, his eyes catch a piece of paper by the nightstand.

‘Starting to miss my phone. I’ll be back in a flash. And don’t worry! I feel better :)’

Relief wash over him and the tension on his shoulder melts away. Some of it at least. He can’t believe how much Tim’s presence influenced him in these past few months. The sun is still out and he doesn’t know when Tim left and how long has it been since he did.

His therapist says it’s okay to feel on edge for little things. That there is nothing as such, and he can always act on it as long as it makes his restlessness goes down.

The knock on his neighbor’s door is a bit harder. Miss Mary has a hearing problem, hence why her 60’s music always sounds too loud. It never bothered Jason though, sometimes Jason and Tim even danced to it.

“Miss Mary?” Jason called when he hears no steps and only a sound of sax from a recorder.

After a few seconds, the door opens, a lady with big cloudy green eyes looks up at him from the little opening of the door. The chains hold the door to a certain gap.

“Oh, Jason sweetie,” she melted into a smile, putting tension on her sagging skin. She closed the door, undoing the chain and opens the door wide, “How can I help you? Would you like to come in?”

“It’s not necessary Mary, I just want to ask if Tim went out.”

“That boy? Yes, he told me you’ll come. Told you not to worry,” Mary slaps him on the biceps, “Is he okay? Where are his parents?”

“Don’t worry, he just has a bit of cold.”

“My eyes might be bad, but that boy is as healthy as a horse! What are you talking about?”

“You’re right Mary.”

Jason jumps with hairs standing up.

Tim giggles triumphantly from behind him.

“Jesus Tim, scared the bones outta me. Got your phone?” Tim lifts his phone up. “What did your parents say when they see you?”

“Didn’t say anything because I didn’t see them. Only the maid is there.” Tim shrugs.

“Where are they? How can parents not be home?” Miss Mary asked.

Tim and Jason look at each other before Tim finally reservedly smiles, “They’re out of town for work.”

“When will your parents be back honey?”

“They won’t be back for a long time.”

“Oh, you must be lonely.”

“No, I’m not. I got Jason with me.” Tim steps closer and links his arm around Jason’s waist and leans his pretty little head on Jason’s shoulder. Suddenly a volcano burst inside his chest and a bunch of hearts geyser out of it.

“Oh, aren’t you the sweetest!” Mary smacks Jason’s bicep again. It’s something Mary does, Jason is whatever about it.

Jason put his arm around Tim’s and squeeze firmly feeling the chill on Tim’s damp cloths and Tim’s warm hand on his back.

“Alright, thanks Mary, I’m gonna take Tim to bed now, good evening.”

“You too love!” and she closes the door.

“Wait, to bed? The sun is still up!” Tim whined.

“You’re warmer than yesterday.”

“Really? But I feel totally fine!”

“You’re still sick, and did you eat the lunch I left?”

Tim looks away guiltily, and Jason sighed, “I’ll make you some chicken soup, it’ll be easy to eat.”

“Yeah, I think I could eat that.” Tim lets go of his hand and looks at Jason.

There’s a coldness in his eyes, never before that Jason sees him like that, it chills him to the bone. Not quite in anger, but the rapid change sends shivers down crawling at the back of his neck. It still looks like Tim, but Jason doesn’t know this part of him, and Jason’s not sure what to make out of it.

“I’m not sick, I’m not your mom.”

It feels like that’s the last thing Jason remembers that day. The morning after, Jason wakes up without Tim, and no note left behind.

+++++

Jason tried Tim’s phone but there’s no reply. Jason tried to wait a day but Tim hasn’t come back still. Two days passed by, Tim must’ve been back to his house. But then again, Jason knows Tim, he’d rather die than goes back there. What does that make Jason that Tim would rather go back to his parents than talk things out with Jason?

Last time Jason meets with Tim’s parents ended up with a restraining order. No, not on Jason, but on Tim’s parents. Long story. Now, Jason is in front of the Drake’s resident with no shame or anger stopping him.

The first one to show is Mr. Drake, he looks nothing like Tim. His face looks just as long as his neck and just too narrow. Under his dark green robe is a white and blue pajamas, seems like Jason just disturbed his break time.

“You,” the old man spat, “What do you want?”

Jason lets his face twitch, but not show his distaste, “Tim, is he here?”

“What are you talking about? Tim is-”

“Honey,” called a woman from the doorstep, she too is in a robe. A blue satin one that reaches her mid-calf and her hand clench above her heart.

She approaches with a slow and careful pace, “Jason, Tim is sick,” she says the most obvious thing with caution.

“Yes! I was taking care of him in my apartment and then he just vanished. Did he come here? Is he still sick? Do you care about him now after he’s sick to death?” Jason pointedly glares at the old man who glares back at the same intensity.

“See here you lunatic-”

“Jack!” Mrs. Drake scolds, and Mister Drake glares at her too, but a single shake of the head from her subdues him. “Tim is out buying groceries. Wait here Jason, I’ll call him,” she said then promptly walks inside her house, so does Mister Drake after giving Jason a stink eye.

Then what’s left is Jason leaning onto the gate. Looking at the road and the residential area, makes Jason's skin crawl. This place gave him unpleasant memories.

He waited until the sky is getting dark. While he waits, his mind rotates to the possibilities that the Drake might’ve been lying to him. Well color him with shit, ain’t he dumb.

Just as he’s about to grab a rock and throw it to one of the windows, a white van parked right in front of the Drake’s sidewalk. A bunch of men came out of the van’s sliding door, wearing high-collared all whites like nurses. One of them grabbed Jason’s by the arm, and it shocked Jason when he couldn’t yank his arm away.

“Let go of me!” Jason growled, but none of the men responded. The one on him is trying to subdue him while the other is carefully approaching.

“Who the fuck are you guys? Get away from me!” Jason screams this time, trying to desperately run away. The nurse pulls him with a force that throws him off balance, and his arms quickly locked behind him.

“ARGH!” Jason screamed as a sharp pain shoot from the back of his neck. His blurry vision catches one of the nurses with a syringe.

As he looks up, Janet and Jack Drake are looking down from one of the windows. Even so, as Jason’s consciousness slips away, his last wish was to see Tim popped into view in one of those windows. Tim doesn’t.

+++++++

Jason woke up wearing a baby blue shirt and matching knee-length shorts. Only after a few seconds staring at it that he recognizes it’s a patient's uniform. He was about to run away if the familiar woman isn’t the second thing he sees.

“Wh- Miss Mary? What... what are you doing here?”

Miss Mary serves her usual kind smile. Like the room, her clothes are white and clean. Tidy like it’s just been ironed and proper like an office worker. She wears an id card on her shirt’s pocket on her right. ‘Marilyn Pepper. Head Nurse’.

Jason looks around, it doesn’t look like a hospital. Beside his bed is another bed, and beside that is a lot more beds in this one big room tidily rowed with two-meter space from each other.

“Jason, I’m going to tell you something you might not believe,” Miss Mary says softly as she sits down on the edge of Jason’s bed. “This is a mental institution, and you’ve been here for a few years now.”

Her words punch the air out of Jason’s lungs. His head shakes as he starts to feel uneasy in his own skin.

“You’re... no, I was in my apartment yesterday, I was... I was with Tim!” Jason jumps out of his bed, “I don’t have time for this, I’m leaving,” then he storms out of the room.

The halls seem like it goes on and on, both ended with a double door. The place is too clean for comfort, too sterile to even possibly exist. A few nurses walking back and forth with a writing board on their hands. Their eyes straight ahead as they walk, as if Jason is not there.

In the end, he chooses one door and proceeds cautiously. A tap on his shoulder makes him turn vehemently. A young nurse with a familiar face is taken back as she moves her hand away. Jason doesn’t know who she is, only the gut feeling that he does.

“Yo, Jason you okay?” the blonde tips her head to the side.

Her voice sends chills down his spine and Jason runs away. She tried to stop him, but he ran away.

He feels like a mouse in a maze with no way out. Trapped upon unfamiliar hallways that never ends. his head starts to feel light. The beating of his heart pumps with rapid breathing.

Another door feels like the other, but this one doesn’t lead him to another hallway. It’s a large room with sofas, chess tables and people doing their own thing. The soft retro music of the ’60s hits him the most, for a blink there he can see his apartment with this music played behind the wall. The right side of the wall is all glass and looks out to a green grass flooring with swings and a mighty tree in the middle where a few people sit by a plaid carpet.

It feels like the room spins around. A few eyes are on him before they go one with their business. Most of them are using the same clothes as Jason.

This is, a mental institute, that means they’re patients, and that means so does Jason? But he’s not crazy... he’s not! He doesn’t belong here.

“Whoa whoa whoa you’re like a merry go round there, stop spinning,” says a familiar voice. A pair of hand hed his shoulder and in front of him is Roy, wearing the same uniform as his.

“Okay, you know where you are?” Roy asked.

“Miss... Miss Mary said it’s a mental institute,” Jason says meekly, holding onto Roy, the last thread he knows is real.

“That’s right, let’s go outside okay?” Roy wraps an arm around his shoulders and Jason is disarray enough to follow.

The breeze smells of the cold air of spring. It cools down his frayed senses enough to makes sense that some things don’t. There’s a wooden chair where some people sit together and talk, two grown adults are by the swings, laughing like toddlers. The pretty and clean place is surrounded by a tall metal fence. Thick and sturdy as star-shaped spikes rowed at the tip. From the gap between the fence, he can see the city that seems on the lower ground and further away from where he is.

“Am I dreaming?” Jason steps closer to the gate, reaching towards the faraway city that has been his home.

“Nah, this’ pretty real,” Roy replied nonchalantly. “Do you remember when you get here?”

“I think I was taken yesterday. Tim went missing so I came to his house, just to see of he’s there and nothing happens. Then I guess his parents called the nurses.”

“Ok, the nurses part was right. You somehow escaped, you went missing for a while. But you’ve been in this institution for –get ready– five years.”

Jason whips around with blown wide eyes, “You’re fucking insane!”

“Well, we both are, that’s why we’re here.”

“But I didn’t do anything!” Jason screamed, all the people in the yard looks at him and some even stand up as they inch away. “Tim is sick, he needs me! If I’m not there he could’ve... he could’ve died, I can’t handle that again.”

Roy shifts his eyes to the glass door and around before walking cautiously towards Jason, “Okay, calm down buddy.”

“No!” Jason storms past Roy.

“Jason just please wait a minute!” Roy holds on to Jason’s wrist but Jason easily brushed him off.

Behind the glass door is darker than the outside. Just before Jason opened the glass door, he takes a look at himself in the dark glass door that shows every detail of his face there. It’s almost like Jason is seeing someone else through the glass. He hated how he knows it him, the age that does a number to his face, and cruelly makes him look like the father he resents.

He steps even closer, putting his finger on the glass and trace all the points on his face that he detested. How deep his eyes sunken into the sockets on his skull. The fine lines beginning to form under his eyes. Chapped lips that split apart so bad that it’s slightly bleeding. Has it really been 5 years? Because he looked like time passes way beyond that. The longer he stares onto his reflection, the more his anger shimmers down and replaced with terror.

He looked just like his sickly mother before she died. It’s still a mystery why she never got better. Jason did everything right. When Tim fell sick, the dread of his mother’s death haunts him again. Mistakes of the past are a teacher for your future, but Jason’s past can’t teach him anything if Jason doesn’t know what he did wrong. All he knew was he doesn’t want to make the same mistake, to let Tim have the same fate as his mother because of his failure.

“Oh, that’s what happened,” Jason whispered under his breath.

He sees Roy coming from behind him at the corner of his eyes, but he can’t look away from his face just yet. He tried to remember what he did to Tim. What made him ended up here.

The glass door slides open, the first one to show is Miss Mary, then in front of Jason, is Tim.

Now as tall as him. His body filled up a little since he last remembers and a face that’s just as youthful as he was 5 years ago. His hair is trimmed and let down, not as long but the short hair makes him look more mature than the boyish teen Jason remembered. He’s wearing fit ankle-length trousers with patterned baby blue button-up with oxford shoes. Unlike the skater boy Tim Jason used to.

Somehow, seeing Tim in front of him forces the reality down his throat.

“Jason, are you okay?” Tim asked with worried doe eyes. It’s unreal to hear Tim’s voice sounds lower now, but what breaks Jason the most is how Tim is also cautious of him.

“What did I do to you?” Jason’s question drops the temperature a few degrees. He can see Tim shrunk his shoulder as he slightly leans back.

“Please tell me, Tim,” Jason begged, “Don’t I deserve that?”

“No!” Tim scolds, freezing Jason on the spot, “You deserve to be well and happy and if forgetting what happened is all that it takes then... then it’s fine.”

Tim’s eyes glassed over with tears and he wipes them before they escape.

“How can I learn from my mistake if I don’t know what that mistake is? I need you to tell me, Tim... Timmy.” Jason called his nickname and Tim just look away, breaking his heart into shards, “Why are you so scared of me?”

Tim finally looks up, with gritted teeth and eyebrows digging close to his eyes, “I’m not! I just want you back, Jason. I want to wake up next to you again, and have your coffee and eat your cooking when you didn’t think I’m sick! I missed you! And If forgetting what happened is all it takes...” Tim’s voice trails to nothing, this time his tears free fall down to his jaw.

Jason for once left breathless and ashamed, seeing Tim in tears, he never makes him cry like this. But in the 5 years that left his memory, how many have those tears had shed behind him.

“You’ll remember Jason, this isn’t the first time this happened. You always prefer me to be honest, so, I have to tell you, this is the longest memory loss episode, hence I needed Tim to come.” Miss Mary comforted.

“Why did I forget?”

“We still don’t know. You have triggers whenever you’re left alone or when you touched someone that’s a bit warmer than usual, but how bad it affects you can lead to memory loss.”

Tim looks reluctant, but Miss Marry rubs his back, “It’s okay Tim, he’s getting better, it needs to be done.”

Then Tim finally nods, looking up to Jason and slip his arms between Jason’s torso and wrap him into a clinging hug. Jason immediately hugs him back. Just yesterday he hugged this body, but it felt like it’s been so long since he does.

Tim hold his hand and pull him towards the tree, “This is our favorite spot.” Then he sits down, which Jason follows suit. The yard looks a bit empty now. Whatever Jason did in the past, the patients seem to be wary of them. Fun.

“You’ve come here quite often then huh?” Jason mused.

“Yeah, to visit you.”

“Did you put me here?”

“No, you did.”

Jason smiled at himself, “Good.” Whatever insanity he was drowned in, he’s glad he had the sanity to put himself here.

Jason and Tim sitting under the tree’s shade, suddenly lost for words.

“I’m sorry,” Jason said after a long pause.

“Don’t be. None of this is your fault.”

“Will you tell me what I did to you now?”

Tim pursed his lips, playing with his fingers before he finally admits, “You lock me in your room, thinking I was sick. At one point you overdose me with cold medicine.”

The cold air blows but it’s not the reason why Jason has chills on his skin. Suddenly feeling like he shouldn’t be this close to Tim. As he was about to scoot away, Tim lay his head on his shoulder.

“Don’t,” he silently scold.

“What?”

“You’re not broken, just troubled.”

Jason knows that but it hurts that he hears it, but it helps that Tim’s here. How many times has this happened. How many times Tim have to come here for Jason.

“I’m a danger to you.”

“You’ve been getting better, I swear, and I’m so proud of you.” Tim retracts, putting his hands on each of Jason’s face.

It takes his breath away how pretty when Tim smiles. Tim leans closer and presses his lips on his. Chaste and gentle, it powers Jason’s heart to shoot out of his rib cage. Tim stands on his knees, and tuck Jason’s head to the crook of his neck, and wrap his shoulder. Jason holds onto the back of Tim’s waist and they hold onto each other like they’ve finally found each other.

“I’m going to get better,” Jason declared to the sky above and Tim in his arms, as a reminder to where he’ll return.

“I know baby,” Tim kisses the root of his hair. “Hey, I’m hungry.”

Jason smiled, “Am I really hearing you say that or is that my fucked up brain?”

“I’m really hungry!” Tim chuckled.

“I can make you something, I remember this place have a kitchen I can borrow. Want some eggs? I’ll make you coffee caramel flan if you do the dishes.”

“For those flans? Anything.”

#fictober19 #jaytim #jaytim fanfic #jaytim fanfiction #emocel's #lord help me with creating anything else that angty fluff #jason todd fanfiction #tim drake fanfiction

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