#I wrote all my bittersweet feelings about this quote into a fic

[thebreakfastgenie]

I have read that chapter and I think it's an awfully big leap to ascribe particular meaning to that. As an autobiography, it has a loosely chronological organization so it may be placed in that chapter because of the timing--Mike was an outspoken ally before MASH, but his time on MASH coincided with gay rights beginning to get a lot national attention. MASH is also connected to all of his activist work simply because of the recognition it brought him. The reason for the ellipsis is the next chapter, which deals with his life immediately after the end of MASH, is title "...and Beyond." It's "B.J....and Beyond" referring to those significant stages of his life.

It doesn't surprise me that Mike is supportive of fans choosing to interpret his character as gay. That's exactly the response I expected from him; similar to what Mark Hamill has said about Luke Skywalker. It's a really nice thing for fans, and I'm happy that he's supportive, when many creators still are not.

To address @pomegranate, I was on mashblr a year ago so I watched all of this go down. I don't want this to be misconstrued as an attempt to reinforce your imposter syndrome. I think you presented a great perspective. I'm just presenting mine as well as some things I was able to observe.

First, I don't think anyone is claiming the 2021 interview (which was discovered by mashblr in 2022) is the origin of "BJ goes to Maine." That has been a popular fic trope since 2020. There was as flurry of "BJ goes to Maine" fics in February 2022 and from that point on there have been a lot of tags referencing variations on "BJ would walk across the country."

Most of the posts--then and now--stopped at "BJ would walk across the country if it meant spending time in Hawkeye's company." OP is not the first person I've spoken to personally who did not even know the rest of the quote existed. It is important to read and listen to things and form your own opinion, but it is also naïve to deny that this quote was widely misrepresented. I was suspicious of the hype from the beginning, so I immediately watched the interview myself, and my suspicions were confirmed. There was post after post to the effect of "Mike said BJ goes to Maine!" I would not be surprised if a not-insignificant part of the fandom believed he used the word "Maine" at any point in the interview. I think it's accurate to say there is selective memory being implemented here, which may or not be willful.

I absolutely agree with your assessment that there is a certain faction of shippers that desires confirmation or some sort of canon validation. I can't grasp that mentality either. But that faction of the fandom did and does attempt to spin this isolated quote from that interview as some kind of confirmation from Mike.

People may not have expected Mike to say "Hawkeye and BJ live happily ever after," but people reacted as if he did. There were posts saying he did, and those weren't literal, but they are part of a pattern. There are a lot of posts claiming Mike Farrell was playing BJ as gay, and I do understand that they're largely memes, but when something is repeated enough times as a meme it begins to accrue a certain level of sincerity. I've watched this happen repeatedly on this website, both in fandom contexts and much higher-stakes situations. I'm certainly not saying that every shipper or even the majority engaged in this, but it undeniably happened and continues to happen, and it is that phenomenon that OP is responding to.

I certainly don't look at the full quote as disproving anything, and I don't think OP does either, but it does seriously recontextualize the part that was widely shared. I won't speak for anyone else, but I'm annoyed the whole quote isn't being shared--and that a lot of it is being erased--because the quote, in full, means a lot to me and feels in line with my interpretation of the show.

I see it as more bittersweet than depressing. The absolute thesis of post-war BJ and Hawkeye to me is they have separate lives, so hearing Mike say that was really gratifying! The bond they shared will always exist, but it doesn't hold them together; they've gone in different directions. And that's sad, because we see how close they are in the show. But it's also a good thing, because it means they move on with their lives and aren't defined by the war. Even without such traumatic circumstances, drifting away from the people you were once closest to without loving them any less is a big part of life. That's what I got from this interview and I love it more than I can express. "They made a point of seeing each other again" only underscores that they had to make an effort to see each other, because they are no longer a constant presence in each other's lives. It's about how close they remain, but also, as OP said, how they're not as close as they used to be.

Those of us who are interested in that story, who feel that very deeply, want to see the full quote because it's important to us. Because it tells us something more about Mike's interpretation of what happens later in the characters' lives.

I think the quote is mostly a reiteration of BJ's determination in GFA. It tells us, perhaps unsurprisingly, that Mike thinks BJ is sincere in his promise to see Hawkeye again and keeps it. For what it's worth, Alan Alda has also answered this question:

[laughing] I have no idea. They'd meet again if I wanted them to. If they were both available for a show they would certainly have met again.

All OP is really saying is that the full context gives a very different impression of the interview than the shortened quote that was widely circulated.

Hey. Hey why the FUCK did everyone try to convince me that Bj walks to Maine was gay instead of really depressing.

The whole quote: "BJ would walk across the country to spend time in Hawkeye's company, and it probably wouldn't have been as wonderful as he'd have hoped it was, because their lives have gone in different directions."

Like it’s literally he puts in all this effort to see him and keep his promise, and then they’re different people than they were in the war and it’s not a very good time. Like that’s the OPPOSITE of gay that’s “they’re not as close as friends as they used to be.”

[kcscribbler]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers! Spread the self-love 💞

Aw, thank you so much @justabigoldnerd! I feel weird about self-reccing, but I don't think I've ever actually thought much about my favorites, so. This should be fun.

In no particular order, and taken only from stories currently posted to AO3:

Loki Series

Ready or Not

Summary: In which the waiting is over, and the war begins.

Oddly enough, the last two chapters of this arc are my favorite of all the 150K+ words in the Storyteller series. It was difficult to say goodbye to this series, because I poured a lot of love into it, but I told the story I wanted to tell, and I love where it ended. (Chaptered)

Star Trek: Alternate Original Series

2. What's in a Name, Chapter Six

Summary: Five times Nyota Uhura called Jim Kirk something other than Captain, and one time he was glad to return the favor.

Chapter Six is set many years after the events of Star Trek: Beyond, focusing on what a potential movie-era in the AOS might look like. I wanted something with the bittersweet vibe of the TOS movie era, but more sweet than bitter, and I think I achieved that. It was also written during a period of upheaval in my own personal life, with a lot of uncertainty about facing the future, and I think that emotion transferred. (Oneshot)

3. The Captain's Log, Redacted, Chapter Five - Distress Signals (Shields Up, Red Alert)

Summary: Or, The Ongoing Saga of "Well That's Not Going in the Report."

Chapter Five is definitely an unashamed demonstration of the Found Family trope, which to me is the defining feature of all my AOS fic. I was very pleased with how this one turned out. (Oneshot)

Star Trek: The Original Series

4. A Night in Sickbay

Summary: Or, The One With the Nightmares Added scene after the curtain falls on Journey to Babel.

I've written a lot of missing scenes from the series, but this one's always been a personal favorite. I think the older I get, the more I enjoy the quiet, gentle stories as much as the more dramatic ones. (Oneshot)

Star Trek: The Original Series & Sherlock Holmes (ACD Canon)

5. However Improbable

Summary: "An ancestor of mine maintained that if you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth." - Captain Spock, ST:VI; original quote Sherlock Holmes, The Sign of Four. Two universes, two worlds, one link threatening to destroy them both.

Yes, I wrote a novel-length crossover between two very unlikely universes, many years ago as a just-for-fun NaNoWriMo exercise. Yes, it's ridiculous and niche. Yes, it's still probably my favorite story I've ever written. (Longfic)

[onebedtorulethemall]

Hi! I love your fics, TWR is one of my favorite coworker AUs to this day and BO deserves all the flowers it gets. I find it hard to leave comments sometimes as I’m reading since I usually need to chew on what I’ve read for a while to really decide what I want to say (and I never want to sound pushy for updates or whatever!), but I went back to leave a comment on one of your oneshots and found it deleted so that’s why I’m here. It was called A Life We Never Lived or something along those lines? The conversation you wrote between D/Hr involving the ring theory for grief literally lives in my brain. When Draco says something like “only you could create a system for grief and mismanage it”, maybe it was just a passing joke/throwaway line, but it felt so genuinely in character for both of them and really got to the core of why I love the Dramione dynamic in fics so much. Specifically post war/post canon with Hermione tackling her emotions with pure logic and not putting herself first, and Draco being kind of an ass but offering his own brand of support by recognizing shes struggling too and their sort of awkward kinship/healing together. It also just made me laugh out loud, your humor always comes through so well and that’s such a hard skill to develop! I know it wasn’t going to be overall lighthearted/HEA, but I loved what you had posted so far and just wanted to make sure you knew. Was there a reason you decided not to finish it/to delete it?

Ahaha! I really thought I'd gotten away with hiding that unfinished one-shot. It had all of 230 hits. Never in my wildest dreams did I think anyone would notice, let alone quote a line to me. Thank you, I'm incredibly flattered!

That poor fic was doomed from the start by an uncommitted author. The concept was to write a snapshot of their meeting on the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts every year for a decade, with letters exchanged between meetings, a secret relationship, heartache, and an eventual painful breakup. Sort of a "right person, wrong time" quiet tragedy. I posted the first 3k and struggled through another unposted 5k before I called it quits.

Actually, I did a little mental postmortem on it when I took it down, because it confirmed some things about myself as a writer that I thought were good lessons. So, here you go:

1. I need a plot before I start. I mean, I knew this, but now I *extra* know it. I had only a rough idea of where I was going, and that is not enough for me. A pantser I am not.

2. I have to finish a fic before I post it. My fics are usually 95-100% complete before I post, and this was the exception that proves the rule. I'm not sure why the post-as-you-go method doesn't work for me, but writing became instantly 100x harder once I'd posted part of it (which I only did because of the fest deadline).

3. I'm not really in control of the plot. To me, creating an outline is the process of discovering the story, as though I'm documenting something that has already happened. I always feel as though there's really only one way a story can go, once I know the characters. Well, I figured out pretty quickly once I belatedly started plotting that this one does NOT have an unhappy ending, but rather an angsty yet ultimately happy one. And this was for the UHEA fest, so...

4. Just because I want to read it doesn't mean I want to write it. I could have finished it with a HEA and removed it from the fest, but once I realized it was a quiet story about the slow unfolding of a relationship over the course of a decade, I'm afraid that was the end of it. I think it would have been an understated, bittersweet, character-centric little relationship study, but none of those things light up my genre fiction-loving brain. Love to read it, but I just can't find the spark to write it. And thus died my dreams of ever writing literary fiction (kidding, I never had those).

So that's the story! I dug up the part you mentioned and had a fun time rereading. I liked it way more than I remembered, and I'm sorry it won't come to fruition. If I knew how to get myself to write something I wasn't wholly invested in, I would absolutely finish it for you.

From "Scenes From a Life We Never Lived":

Thank you so much for this ask. Sometimes if I'm having a bad writing day or if the imposter syndrome is hitting, I like to pretend someone out there is laughing at some stupid joke I wrote (or, since finishing my gothic, is having a pleasant nightmare). Usually my brain tries to convince me this is impossible. I stockpile your kind words as evidence.

[steddie-island]

20 Questions for writers

I was tagged by @runninriot over 2 months ago Thank you friend 😘🥰

I've done one before but I like answering these types of questions so I'm doing it again.

No pressure tagging @wynnyfryd @stervrucht @wormdebut @mugloversonly @augustjustice

Pressure tagging @v3llichor who saw this over my shoulder and said "I wanna fill one out!" 😂😘😘

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

37, all but 1 of which were posted between October of last year and now. Which I'm really proud of. 🥹 The only other fic I'd written and posted was for Frasier back in 2020.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

63,421!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I write Stranger Things mostly, but I've written Good Omens, Frasier, and Destiel (I haven't written for them in a loooong time though.)

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Just Because We Get Around (Part 1 of my Fuck his dad series. Steve is Dustin's dad, Eddie is Dustin's college friend, they fuck nasty and then there are feelings. It's silly and cheesy and I still love it even if I think about renaming it at least once a week. 😂)

Mutually Beneficial (Written for this art by @2jihiir0 😌 There may be a part 2 coming if I can ever get Inspired to work on it again WE'LL SEE!)

With Extra Nuts (Eddie sees Steve in his Scoops uniform, they fuck nasty in the back room about it.)

Dustin's Dad (Has Got Me Down Bad (Part 2 of Fuck his dad, wherein Dustin finds out. 😌)

Vixen (Steve wears lingerie to a Christmas party. He and Eddie fuck nasty about it when they get home. There's a pattern here. 😂)

5. Do you respond to comments?

It definitely takes me some time sometimes but I try to! Even the ones that are just like, hearts or a laugh emoji. They took their time to not only read my fic but to leave a comment and I want them to know that I appreciate it. 🥹

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I had an answer here but I had completely forgotten about A rush kinda like the old times (I still cross your mind). It's Stommy, with Tommy reaching out to (fem) Steve after he gets engaged. There's lots of reminiscing but it's bittersweet because Tommy's clearly not happy, and Stevie isn't going to give him what he wants.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I have a transfem Steve series (Wallpaper, Long Haul, Candles) that gave me so much joy to write. I don't really write unhappy endings (IDK maybe that'll change but I kind of doubt it. to quote T Swift, "I'm just too soft for all of it.") but these three just. I'm really proud of them. Part one is Stevie coming out to Robin, part 2 is Eddie, and then part 3 is Stevie getting dicked down a happy ending to her birthday. I was nervous to write these, because I'm not trans. None of it is from Stevie's POV, it's from the POV of the people who love her. And that's what I wanted to show. A beautiful trans woman who had been through so much hell before life decided to throw gender stuff at her, getting to come out, getting to be herself, and getting so much love and support from the people around her. 🥹🥹🥹🥹

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Thankfully no (knock on wood)!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

All kinds? We have monster fucking and some good ol' sapphic steddie semi-hate fucking and some Steve playing Billy Loomis (with the softest fucking aftercare in the world, tbh). 15 of the fics I've posted are explicit (it feels like there should be more but I think that just means they're all in WIP purgatory, who knows when/ if they'll see the light of day).

10. Do you write crossovers?

I have one I've been working on for months that's a Marmalade/ Baron x Eddie fic but I also haven't touched it in months. 😅

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of (knock on wood again).

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I don't think so but that'd be cool!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

Not one that's been posted yet but I actually have two written with my spouse that we're going to upload eventually!

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

I love Steddie, I've found so much community here, but I would be remiss to not acknowledge the fact that Destiel had such a strong hold on me for years. I've made so many friends because of it, I literally met my spouse writing it.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I honestly don't know. I'm intending on finishing the ones I have started but my WIP folder is kind of daunting so. Who knows?

16. What are your writing strengths?

Even though I don't write it often I think my angst is pretty good. I've also been told that I make things feel very alive, and that's something I try hard to do, too (and am glad that I can do, I've only been writing for over half of my life even if I'm only just now posting it! 😅)

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Action scenes. I struggle SO HARD with action scenes. It's something I'm working on, something I've been working on for a while, but I feel like my pacing is way off and needs a lot of work.

I also can't write slow burn to save my fucking life. I just want them to get to smoochin' already!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I would do it but I would want to be so careful and not have a scenario where I translate it as one thing and someone comes along and says "she said he smells like dirty socks and liver" or something. 😂

19. First fandom you wrote for?

That I posted, Frasier. First fandom that I started writing for in general was Spn!

20. Favorite fic you've written?

This is the same answer I gave last time but I think it has to be Don't go where I can't follow, which was I think my 2nd Steddie fic? It's under 1,000 words but it's the one I've reread the most. There's lots of hurt/comfort packed into those 990 words. It was written as a kinktober prompt, written in an hour and posted in the middle of the night and IDK. I just really love it.

[khaleesiofalicante]

I really don't know what to say that I haven't said before, but it's worth repeating once more: This story is so wonderful and deep and so lovely and I don't think any words can really cover to how much I adore it, how much it has meant to me these past few months, and how bittersweet the fact that it's done feels🥺. The epilogue really did justice to the whole story, and I couldn't have thought of a better way of saying goodbye to it.

Max said here that to write someone's story you had to be careful, responsible but most of all gentle. And I think it's something you have shown through and through, the way you respect and love this characters and their journey just makes you love them even more.

I could go on a rant about the whole thing but I will refrain from doing so because it will probably be 10 pages long (trust me, I have ranted to 3 people and myself for hours, I have a lot of thoughts about it😭)

I can't even point out my favorite bits about this, because I loved every single thing!! The good and the bad days, the way they never gave up on each other, all the little steps and the love they radiated! Max writing emails!! If that doesn't shows us how much he loves David, idk what does... Lance and Arthur's own journey and how much they have grown up😭 I saw them being months old I am getting emotional don't @ me!! Chopin!! Rip to Lance but I love him with my whole heart��. THE MF KISS ON THE WRIST🥺 I will forever be wondering about the white cover, but yes let that man keep some things to himself!! Also, Jackson>>>>

I maay have teared up s little bit on some parts and I think that's valid of me!

Just... Their love. Their whole life. A life with so much joy and so much pain and grief too, but a life they created together and are slowly but surely getting back. The way they never give up because the other one existing is reason enough to try with everything in them🥺. Thank you for sharing this story. It has become one of my favorites to go back to, and I pity the person that asks anything about a good book I've read recently because they are not going to hear the end of it...

I have no words to add, I just want you to know you are such an awesome and talented writer and you never stop amazing me with the beauty you create with words. Never forget you are amazing, please 💙

I'm just gonna add some of my favorites lines because damn they are going to live rent free on my mind for a few weeks at least:

I will do anything, however long it takes us, if I get to wake up to your smile again.

Half a life with you is worth more to me than forever with anyone else.

///

"But all the days I have left, all of it, it's yours."

///

Remember the bad times. Remember the tough shit. Remember you made it through. Remember you can do it again.

///

"You look really pretty when you smile."

///

"Because this life, however broken, is perfect because we built it together." (This lone will haunt me forever btw)

///

He wanted a love that lasted forever.

He wanted Max Lightwood-Bane.

///

All the time

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.💙

I have no words for all the love and support you show me. Also, not me trying to hack into your notes app so i can have a look at all the quotes because I'm always too tired to read the fics again (i wish i could read as much as i wrote, fam, oof i really do).

Anyway, I'm cleaning my IALS notes, and found this tiny lil thing that didn't make it to the fic so you can keep it.

"Nothing above the neck," David told him seriously as Max kissed his chest.

"Why not?" Max frowned as he pulled back from the other man, momentarily pausing his attempts to give his husband a hickey. "Your neck is pretty and long and there is a lot of space for me to cover."

"My students saw the last one you left on my neck and made fun of me," David mumbled.

"What are their names?" Max asked.

"Max," David chuckled.

"Seriously," Max said. "What are their names?"

"You can give me hickeys," David said with a soft smile. "Just nothing over the neck, please."

"Can't believe my sex life is being dictated by a bunch of middle schoolers," Max grumbled. "I'm gonna have a talk with the Dean."

"About hickeys?" David giggled.

"Don't underestimate me, sweetheart, I can talk about anything if I find the motivation."

[kumeko]

❤️ ✍️💌

Hiiii!!!

Going to start with the easiest one first:

✍️ What’s your ideal writing setup?

Two monitors, leaning back in my chair, my feet on something, and music playing. I generally need the second monitor for my infinite spelling mistakes when it comes to names. I will misspell a name 3 different ways in the same fic. Or when looking up words because I used "desire" too many times and need a synonym.

Once I'm in the flow, the music's less important, but when I'm starting and still a little writer's blocky figuring out that first line, the music helps set the mood.

And now the two very hard ones

💌 Is there a favorite trope you like to write?

Hmm...I generally lean toward something bittersweet, I find it hard to write fluff without an angst undercurrent to tie it all together. I also love missing scenes, half of my writing urges are "but ahh, dig into this more!" But trope...trope. I can't even cheat by checking on AO3 because the top additional tags are not tropes but genres. I like Flirty A x Serious B, enemies/rivals/exes to lovers, things that give banter. Though I am not great at writing banter yet. XD Also pining. Pining is good. So are bandage/healing scenes.

❤️ What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic?

Hardest question yet! I feel like I rediscover an old fic every now and then and go "I wrote that? I did?" There's the line that I vaguely recall about the ones left behind vs the ones lost, but I can't even remember what fandom that was for, let alone the fic. Some lines as I try to hunt that down...

"Emmeryn was ten when she was given a blood-stained throne and a weight heavier than any child ought to bear." <--I was trying really hard to do a mirroring of Emm/Chrom/Lucina in this fic with their coronations. TT_TT

"She takes the crown, as cool as her brother’s corpse, and drops it immediately. " <--I love the Nohr family, there's just so much angst and love and ahhhh.

"He wants to turn the world's truths into lies." <--My attempt to give a character his much needed growth and moving forward. I should see if that series has ended yet...

"It was impossible to know someone, Sam mused. To truly know them—skeletons in the closet and all...Mike had left Josh behind and she had left them both, and sometimes decisions were hard and there was no right answer." <--Line I loved so much I made it the summary of the fic! I just liked the mood of this fic overall.

...I'm going to stop there before I just make a huge pile of quotes and never find the actual one XD

[iiruwu]

give us some harringrove recs bestie!

i gotchu bae!! but be warned, many of these are pretty much just the ones i've read at the top of the list, filtered by most kudos b/c thats just how i find all my fics. so, there's a chance you might've gone through them already. regardless these are some of my faves and have stuck with me for years after reading them. (this was also requested by @roseinthewoods so here you go!)

let us begin:

Under the Covers by ToAStranger -> my all-time fave harringrove fic. this absolutely deserves its popularity and has one of the best characterizations i've ever seen of the entire cast post-s2. not only are billy and steve super fleshed out, but i just adored how steve interacted with jonathon and nancy (who were equally great as far as characterization goes) along with many other characters. but steve rlly shines in this one! this author truly brings the world to life with their writing and makes you feel like you're really watching everyone's lives unfold in an organic, but also bittersweet story :)

dried up, half full by lymricks -> SUCH a good billy characterization. i mean, truly. also one of the best interpretations i've seen of what could have been billy's journey towards becoming a better person. lots of angst and inner turmoil. made me feel like i was truly in billy's shoes and rlly conveyed this sense of just not being able catch a break in any aspect of life throughout the story. im also gonna throw a quote in here that i have had saved for a while just 'cause it was so heartbreakingly good:

we could be heroes (just for one day) by brawls, ToAStranger -> another fic with really good characterization overall. unfortunately this one is unfinished but as im skimming this im remembering that the dynamic between steve and billy for this was just AGHHHH i was frothing at the mouth the whole time. so funny and sweet and very slowww to build up. it was a very realistic take on billy in specific post-s3, but, more than that, i loved the inclusion of almost the entire ensemble throughout this fic. the kids were such rays of light, it rlly made this fic that much better :)

master of puppets, i'm pulling your strings by wearealltalesintheend -> ONE OF MY FAVES!! this fic hooked me on the idea of billy & robin being friends and i was totally obsessed for a little while afterwards. the author wrote the two of them so damn well together in the s3 plotline and i just love how they were snarky as hell but also progressively more friendly and deeply trusting of each other as billy continued to open up. its also refreshing to see harringrove from an outsider perspective, with robin being there to help them connect the dots. (also characterization was an a+ as usual!)

Don't Leave Me (Hanging on the Telephone) by Glitter_Bug -> this is a fic that is a lottt more recent in comparison to the others. i've been reading this since it was about halfway done and i must say - the banter is PHENOMENAL between steve and billy. the dialogue alone hooked me in with how accurate to the 1980s it was with references and had me reading non-stop. the concept of billy being stuck in the upside-down and only able to contact the real world through the phone at steve's house is sooo damn good. it rlly offered a lot of opportunity for fun scenes with them through phone calls. this is also a fic that is actively being updated and is nearing the end soon!

Renegade (Who Had It Made) by moonflowers -> this was a very tender fic about billy's supposed death and included multiple POVs. i found max's POV abt her grief and coming to terms with his death to be such a nice inclusion that added a great touch to the story and also the many journal entries that she found as well!!! this fic felt very human and personal, like it was something not meant for ppl to see - which, considering the concept of max finding billy's journal with notes about steve in it and giving it to steve, makes sense. it was a nice harringrove slowburn overall!

andddd there we go! these are the most memorable ones i've read but there are so so many more harringrove fics out there that are just as good. i found some interesting ones just while skimming the tag alone. hopefully you liked this anon!!! these are very near and dear to my heart :')

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Hiya, I wrote quite a few times over the years, especially since your writing is something that feels warm and comforting to me. reading some of your older works makes me feel 15 again in quite a bittersweet nostalgic way but a welcomed one nonetheless. I spent many many months VERY sick this year and now that I’m getting back on track, I’m scared of something happening again. It is late night where I live and I stumbled upon a screenshot I have saved in my camera roll favorites, it’s a quote from one of the APTCH time stamps - “"Because sometimes what we think we want isn't what we need and we wind up with exactly what we needed in the First place. Life works in very odd ways sometimes." - I go back to this quote from time to time, and I did particularly in the many months I was sick, since I had to completely change my life and my career and all my projects and ambitions - alongside my normalcy - had been thrown out the window. I don’t know if you’ve read it somewhere of if you came up with it on your own but I find it beautiful, especially in the context you put it into. APTCH is definitely one of your fics that brings me comfort the most - I mean, who isn’t a sucker for comforting dad!jensen?!?! - anyways yeah, it’s late here, I’m nostalgic as hell as I’m about to start a new chapter in my life and once again i find myself looking for comfort in your familiar works. You don’t have to reply to this if you don’t want to but I’m writing what my thoughts and feelings are right now because you NEED TO KNOW how appreciated and loved you are even from so far on the other side of the ocean! because it is true. you’ve been bringing comfort to this little 15 year old Italian girl (not so 15 on the outside anymore lol) for years now and as silly and cheesy as it might sound, your work has kept me going even in my lowest and darkest moments. Even tho I have to say, what seemed so bad back then is not as bad now. As you grow and become an adult, you realize that you shouldn’t take anything for granted and that you life can be flipped upside down any moment ( in both a good or a bad way - as it was the latter for me just at the start of the year). Again yeah, you don’t have to reply to this long as message if you don’t feel like it but fuck, you’re so appreciated. I’ve been “growing up” with your fics and I feel silly to say this but I fear the day you’ll stop posting. I’LL SHUT UP NOW - I just needed to spill out, once again, how fucking appreciated you are. I hope I didn’t make any grammar mistakes, I apologize if there were any. I’ll sign with my name for once, - Fran , or 💙

Aw, well first off, thank you for such an endearing message! Always nice to wrap up a Monday on a good note! It means so much that you've found comfort in my stories. Honestly, that's why I keep sharing, especially APTCH. Escapism is entirely necessary, especially these days!

I came up with that quote on my own and it's something I try to live by, certainly as I grow older. Life doesn't go exactly where you expect (I mean, none of us were expecting a freaking pandemic were we?) but it teaches us to let go of the small stuff along the way too which is necessary. I plan on being around for quite awhile so don't be worried about me going anywhere!

[flowers-of-io]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you’ve written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗

Tagged by the lovely @eri-223​. I decided to only include finished fics here because while I *am* screaming incoherently about Book in every waking hour, it’s hard to compare things that are their own complete entities to stories yet unfinished.

nothing’s fair in love and war - Oryx & Savathûn. One of my most recent children, born from that one Wellspring quote and figured out over the sandwich table. It has all the good stuff--Books of Sorrow, sibling swordfight, the inevitability of fate, and even a theme song that I’m still unwell about the lyrics of! It was such a pained delight to write, because prior to WQ we hadn’t really hadmuch insight on Savathun’s relationship with her brother, then we suddenly got the statue, the Temple, and of course the quote I could not shake for days upon hearing. By far my favourite thing in this fic is the affectionate holding your sibling at knifepoint and laughing, that viscerality of steel on skin, that plainless of love at the edge of a blade.

Visions of Confluence - first VoG fireteam. This was a very fun exercise written for last summer’s Project Exodus challenge. I liked playing with the repetitions and switching details, going for that eerie feel of ‘it’s almost the same but slightly off kilter, there’s another set of footsteps next to mine but I remember only coming here alone’, glass refracting time like beams of light. Plus, Alemyr!

Blood - Asher & Eris. A Destcember prompt I really went to town with. It’s soft, it’s bittersweet, it’s fragments strewn across time with a quote from Landscape slapped onto the label, it’s found family in the literal sense.

Cats and Dogs - Drifter & Eris. Oh, this was my folly born from the idea of “could there technically be Hive who escaped the fate of having a worm put inside them?” and instead of writing some serious speculative fiction I wrote... this. Again, all the good stuff--humour! bickering coworkers! cute small creatures! yellow Hive goo! This is one of my very few bright & happy fics, and even here I managed to slip a bit of Eris’ PTSD.

Blooming gardens - Another Destcember prompt that’s so niche and weird probably like five people have ever read it, and it holds a special place in my heart because here I went so off the hook with my Afterlife In Destiny, Actually theory (plus: first recorded mention of the Song of Life in my fic!). I’m thinking about revamping it, maybe changing the pov to 2nd person, now that I’ve been playing around with more Traveler/Gardener stuff. Though it was really hard to pick a favourite out of that year’s prompt set (Heresy and Roses & Thorns are so very dear to me too), this one is definitely the most special.

Tagging @xazz, @shadowtriad, @euxiom, @wonderwafles, @a-driftamongopenstars and @allteacher! If you’ve already done it and I’m double-tagging you I’m sorry lol.

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Mystery Writer (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Summary: Spencer finds books at a second hand bookstore that are annotated and he falls the person writing the notes. 

AN: This was part of a fic swap on @imagining-in-the-margins​ server! This is for the marvellous @definitelynotkatesblog​ <3 I really hope you like it! I had to delete the original post because it didn't show up in the tags. This will be staying up regardless of that now.

Masterlist

Your name: submit What is this?

“If you need anything, just let me know!”

Spencer pressed his lips together at the person behind the till before heading deeper into the rows of second-hand books. Familiar titles, old and new, printed on spines in various states of pristine/decay, they tempted him to select and bring them home with him. The clear sections between biographies and fiction guided him deeper into the forest, deeper into finding his way out. He was hoping to adopt one such book for a day off, when he could revisit it with a fresh eye. It would be like seeing an old friend again, remembering why they were friends in the first place with a hint of that initial read through from years ago, and perhaps he would learn something new in the process.

A dull ache in his chest at the sight of The Sign of Four by Arthur Conan Doyle. But he had long since recovered from that heartbreak and he would be able to read this story without feeling that again.

Still. It had been several years since he read this book.

His nervous fingers plucked it off the shelf and the pages fell open for him. A flattened gum wrapper parted the pages like the Red Sea. Spencer lifted it out tentatively. Its creases were ironed in from its role as a temporary bookmark, an impression of scribbled black ink flattened after it was made.

Spencer’s eyes scanned over the page in search of what this gum wrapper might have been guarding.

“Women are never to be entirely trusted – not the best of them.”

In the margins was scribbled:

Product of the time, but still a prick, rude smartarse role a bit dull

Spencer found himself exhaling in light laughter. That a lack of empathy was considered “dull” by this person, when it was something he dealt with in his job almost every day. The confidence in this commentary too, this brazen critique of a much beloved fictional character was left for someone else to find.

His gaze found Watson’s opinion of Holmes’ casual sexism: “atrocious sentiment”. It was circled twice in the same black biro.

Spencer dug his thumb against the text block and flicked through the book. A waft of that book smell lifted from the paper, accompanied by the bold notes of the previous owner dotted across the text until he finally landed on the reverse of the front cover. Two letters – initials - were scratched onto it.

It was with bridled exhilaration that Spencer approached the till and held up the book with a half-smile. His hands were quick to place it down on the counter so that the shop assistant could type the price into the till. His mood was apparently palpable because they seemed just as happy as Spencer to hand him back the novel in a brown paper bag – the receipt tucked inside.

 --->--->--->--->--->

 “Love is an emotional thing, and whatever emotional is opposed to what is true, cold reason, which I place above all things. I should never marry myself, lest I bias my judgement.”  

What a lonely existence and also a lie. See: entire relationship w/ Dr. Watson!

Spencer smiled at this comment. Now all the other instances of a double underlining made sense. Each one produced itself in his mind as evidence that Mr Sherlock Holmes did in fact love. Maybe not marry, but it would have been terribly unconventional for him to wed Doctor John Watson. The unknown author seemed to understand this. They never emphasised if this love was platonic or romantic. But the way in which they proved love existed within this character oft portrayed as emotionless, Spencer simply adored. They were a romantic reader, who still enjoyed reading about the cynic

He grew quite aware of his posture in that moment and he straightened his back. A few clicks of complaint emitted as he stretched, his head twisting from side to side. Screwing his eyes open and shut behind his glasses, he revisited your deduction.

On the dot of the “i” in “lie”, there was a sprinkle of graphite around the indent from where a pencil’s lead had snapped from the effort put into topping off this point. A sprinkle of graphite smudged where the pages pressed together.

Spencer moved on to where a sentence in black biro tried to blend in with the printed words. A memory appeared at the front of his mind: when Rossi was bewildered to learn Spencer and Dr. Alex Blake wrote the newspaper crossword in pen.

The pencil markings were like mini brainstorms, something to revisit and make a solid theory with the black biro. But the planning was never rubbed out.

Little quotes were circled. This mystery critic spent half the book roasting the characters and the other half leaving little exclamation marks and circles around phrases and words when they couldn’t think of something to say. Spencer found it sweet, picturing the thrilling unfolding of events for the reader to revisit.

His heart ached in bittersweet memory as he recalled the contents of Dr Alex Blake’s book The Route of Linguistics. It was necessary pain to create a profile of who this mystery critic was. Yes, he was profiling out of work hours. His evenings were now spent trying to picture the voice behind the notes. The sarcasm, the witty blows to the character’s and author’s ego. He almost wished that he couldn’t read so fast because he finished the book, even with its additional notations, all too quickly. But there was one bonus.

Spencer traced the pad of his fingertip over the exclamation marks describing Mary Morstan. What else might a detractor of the great Sherlock Holmes read?

--->--->--->--->---> 

He had returned to the bookshop in favour of adopting another. Yet he could not find one that satisfied his unknown criteria. It was not until he found himself checking the front pages of the fifth book he had selected, that he realised he was looking for a pair of initials.

Sighing, he placed My Dear Bessie, with its empty front page, back on the shelf. The chances of finding another book containing this mystery critic were so minute. He could probably calculate them if he wanted to dedicate himself to such a disheartening statistic. He’d rather not spend his lunch break doing that, as much as he loved statistics. This once, they did not assure his safety and he remained unsupported by the fact that he could not find any other Arthur Conan Doyle books.

His desperation became most apparent when he thought that perhaps fate should just decide for him. If anything, he would come away with a random book to read through in about ten minutes on a flight back home.

He peeked around the corner of the shelves. The shop assistant at the till was busy writing something down, not paying any mind to the shop’s only customer.

“A random shot had no better odds than just picking books off one by one” is what he told himself as he closed his eyes and placed his fingers on the end of the shelf, just over the first book’s spine. In an “S” pattern, his arm moved up and down, over the books and shelves and gaps between units. His feet stepped forwards into the space he knew was clear.

Spencer stopped and opened his eyes, his finger shifting just an inch out of the way of his new book’s title.

Circe. Madeline Miller.

He tapped the top and the book fell forwards, where he caught it. Its shining dust jacket was serving its purpose, a few tears along the edges from where it had protected the hardcover. He checked the front page. A map of Aiaia in orange and brown filled it to the corners. On the next page, his heart stuttered at the sight of two initials in the same handwriting and the same biro. There was also a scribble - invisible to start with then a ball of black.

The first page with the story’s text held a scribble just above its opening line:

the power of the name

“When I was born, the name for what I was did not exist.”

He could see that the first was in a blunt pencil, but the addition was a sharpened point carving into the paper. A secondary thought that was provided after completing the novel, they had added it. Spencer lifted it to his face, his eyes crossing to keep the stipple in focus. The scent of the paper and the graphite reached him easily; the note must have been made just before Circe was gifted to him. How lucky he was to find such a treasure.

The shop assistant was cutting out a new sign for “BUY ONE GET ONE HALF PRICE!”. By the time Spencer made it to them, the sign was placed upon the pile besides him. The shop assistant smoothed out a crease on the dust jacket, ineffectively but Spencer admitted the gesture. He was glad that someone who loved books as much as him got to work in a place like this.

--->--->--->--->--->

Spencer’s mind, definitely for worse, echoed the words off the tabloids around his head the split second he made eye contact with the headlines. He paced the shelves to somewhere a little quieter. When he found the chocolate aisle, he pretended to peruse. Ever half a minute or so, his gaze drifted up to the till area where the shop owner was on a phone call and clearly not paying attention to him.

It was not long before Spencer grew bored of looking at KitKats, and he pulled out One Thousand And One Nights. The book’s pages fell again to page 57. This shop’s receipt stood above them, still holding its place from the previous owner. It felt wrong to part the two.

No new people had entered this corner shop for 8 minutes. He’d even given the time at the receipt’s end a fifteen-minute margin either side. Given that this mystery critic took a break from work at the same time on the same day of the week – and that they worked during the day – he should have seen them. Maybe he had, and they were that man in the baggy hoodie who stunk of weed. Probably not. Hopefully not. Not that Spencer was judging him for his… recreational activities. He just wanted the mystery critic to be someone he could realistically spend time with.

Just then, Spencer’s phone trilled annoyingly loud. He received a glare from the shop manager and Spencer sent an awkward apologetic expression his way before answering JJ quickly.

“Spencer, we’ve got a case. We need you here ASAP.”

His response was immediate. “Ok, be there in ten.” Hanging up, Spencer dithered on the spot then grabbed a packet of Cheetos. He’d been there for nearly twenty minutes; he had to get something.

“Three dollars,” the manager said before returning to his call. But not before he rolled his eyes at Spencer. Spencer dropped the bills onto the counter and dashed out before he could be offered a receipt.

--->--->--->--->---> 

  An outlier in the usual length of case work had passed by in five long days. Spencer hardly ever regretted the time he put into this job. Every unsub caught was lives saved. But the absence of his mystery commentator had been niggling at the back of his busy mind and he was glad to finally reunite with them on this long flight back.

From his satchel, he recovered the copy of One Thousand And One Nights and began rereading the notes to ground himself in the story. His focus lingered on the page as if he were reading it at the average 250 words per minute. It allowed him to block out the humming of the engine.

Spencer did not take his eyes off the page as he pulled open his desk drawer and popped a piece of overpriced gum into his mouth. Half-hearted reminders bounced in his head, from when he tried smoking and chewing gum to ease his cravings. The fruit flavour was very clearly artificial and it faded within six minutes. Why his mystery critic would pick such a pathetic packet of gum to chew, he didn’t know. But hopefully the fact of its flavour disappearing fast would mean they get through the packet quicker and buy another soon. Even if today, and the days before, spent in that shop did not lean in favour of that hypothesis.

--->--->--->--->--->

The Five People You Meet In Heaven was in the Recently Donated pile. It was near the top, slid towards the edge of the container after being placed wonkily on a copy of some sports autobiography.

Within the pages was more than Spencer could have ever hoped for. Entire paragraphs were circled, quotes underlined. A squashed mini post-it note tabbed the page and a whole paragraph was scrawled on it, about Tala. An arrow pointing to the underside, Spencer lifted the flap and saw more to read, like an interactive pop-up book that he’d gotten Henry for his second birthday. Spencer closed his eyes quick and snapped the book shut. He wanted to save it for when he was sitting comfortably, not while he was rushing back to work in time for JJ to get to her lunch break on time.

The shop assistant had just clipped the lid back onto a green highlighter when Spencer drew up to their counter. With careful fingers, he placed the book upon it. There was a twitch of the assistant’s mouth; their eyes brightened. They looked like they wanted to say something, but something else held them back from making the first move. Spencer recognised it from his school days.

“It’s a good read.” He spoke after they had typed the price into the till.

“I know,” The assistant replied instantly, a relieved smile on their lips, “What part are you on?”

“I’ve already read it, but I wanted to revisit the passage at the diner.”

“Ahh, that’s a good bit. One of my favourites.”

Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed a fraction of an inch. His gaze dropped to the nametag on the left side of their chest. Y/N, their name’s first initial. It couldn’t be.

“What did you think about the final person, Tala?”

“Oh,” The shop assistant clutched at their heart, “I was an emotional wreck before and it hit me hard just as the rest did. So bittersweet to hear her forgiveness. It took me a few times to finish reading the end, but it was all worth it.”

He couldn’t be this lucky, to get this many books from the same person and to have them standing in front of him. Spencer didn’t believe in luck.

As he reached across for his new book, he turned over the cover, “Was this yours?”

Twisting their head around to read the publication details, the assistant – Y/N - smiled sheepishly at the initials. “Yes, and I’m glad to see it go to a new home.”

Apparently luck believed in him.

“But,” Spencer felt his brows knit automatically as he looked between the book and their previous owner, “You love it. I-I’ve seen your notes.”

A hand clapped over Y/N’s mouth, “Oh God, you must have. I mean, it wasn’t the intention initially, but I thought they might be a little entertaining for anyone who picks it up to leave them in there.”

“Oh, they were! I’d love to read more of your thoughts. Hear, hear them, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Y/N checked the door to the shop, still shut, and back to Spencer. They dropped their elbows onto the countertop with their chin in their palms. “What did you wanna know?”

From his bag, Spencer procured his – their – copy of The Sign of Four and flicked through the pages. So many places to choose, but he wanted to open with what had introduced him to Y/N’s analysis.

The pair put their heads together, leaning on the counter. Spencer could smell the chewing gum on their breath. Y/N never cut him off, and he never wanted to cut them off. There were little pauses at the end of each of their turns to speak before the other picked up where they had left off. Their voices leapt from secretive whispers to passionate orations of their favourite passages, rebounding evidence and analysis off each other like a bouncy ball. Spencer finally had a voice to put to the sarcasm, the one his mind had conjured long forgotten in the wake of Y/N’s enthusiasm.

The shop’s door swung open. Spencer leapt to attention as an older woman swept in, past the two of them towards the non-fiction section. Y/N adjusted their name tag, their back straight too. The clock behind the till announced that it was now twenty minutes after the end of Spencer’s lunch break.

Running on the rush of his hobby meeting a potential friend, Spencer asked, “Can I get your number? So we can talk more, maybe swap some more books, when you’re not working?”

His luck was still by his side as Y/N wrote out their number on his receipt, written in their infamous black biro.

--->--->--->--->---> 

  Spencer leapt over to the door of his apartment, took a deep breath, and unlocked it. Stood behind where it had been was Y/N and they too were still wearing the uniform from work. Their nametag was still on their polo shirt, the same spot that Spencer wore his FBI tag.

“Can I get you a drink?” He asked the second they made a step inside his abode.

“Tea would be great. Milk and one sugar please.”

And while he was in the kitchen, Y/N rushed over to the bookshelves, their eyes wide to take in Spencer’s collection. “Oh wow! You weren’t joking!” Their finger indicated to a hard cover copy of Mean Time by Carol Ann Duffy, “That’s one of mine. Well, yours now.”

Plucking it from the shelf, they opened it up. Spencer had written his initials beside theirs.

Spencer stuck his head out in the partition, “Ours. If we’re going to be sharing.” Y/N stood on tiptoes, teeming with delight, their hands cradling the book with all the care Spencer could hope for in a fellow reader. Joint custody of their books and their passion? What a dream.

“I just have to write a little more about the epilogue, and I’ll be with you,” Y/N took their place on his couch. A pencil began scribbling away their thoughts onto the last few pages. Their knees were their desk.

Spencer finished brewing and placed the mug in front of Y/N, who mumbled a quick thank you to him. He joined them in writing his final notes. It slowed him down a considerable amount, but he was glad to take things at a casual pace, especially considering the way that Y/N almost broke their pencil as they scrawled out their thoughts for Spencer to hear later.

“Have you thought about the next one you’d like to try?” Spencer asked tentatively. He wasn’t so sure if Y/N would want to be interrupted.

Luckily for him, Y/N paused their stream of consciousness to look back at his books, “Hmm. So much to choose from.”

Stood up, their book left in Spencer’s care. They took a deep breath, closed their eyes and used their forefinger to draw a zigzag over the spines. Spencer felt that he was almost sick with joy.

Y/N stilled their wandering hand and opened their eyes, already drawing out the selected novel, “This one.”

“And what have you chosen for me next time?”

Y/N handed over The Butterfly Lion from their bag, “Ok, I can’t wait any longer, what do you think?”

They sat back on the couch. Their legs now hung over the arm of the couch, elbows either side and face cupped in their palms. The book rested in their lap. Shifting so that he faced them completely, Spencer returned to the first page and his analysis began.

[kiss-me-cill-me]

@red-riding-wood I cannot even express how much this review means to me, Red 😭

Honestly, I was so unsure of my writing on this one. I really struggled with getting it to where I wanted it to be, and I think this might be my most heavily-edited oneshot ever lol. And tbh, a large part of that was due to me changing my mind about a thousand times on whether I wanted it to be in present or past tense 😆 But also because I struggled to find the words to convey things exactly how I wanted them. Out of all the "genres" of fic, angst comes least naturally to me.

So to hear that you genuinely enjoyed this makes me so unbelievably happy! I feel like I'm just going to be a mess through this whole response; excuse me if I get emotional 😭😂

So the straps on her bed, interestingly, I originally included because I had a very different ending in mind for this fic. I was going to have the tables turn at some point, the reader shove Crane onto the bed, and then use the straps to restrain him so she could take his key and escape. But at some point in the writing process, it just started to feel more and more like she shouldn't win so easily. I still wanted there to be a moment of "hope" at the end, but for it to feel more like something she was wrestling obsessively for instead of an actual triumph. So I changed the ending but kept the straps, because I did think they added to the hopeless atmosphere and her backstory, like you mentioned.

Also, the bit about the black pit in her chest was actually kind of inspired by your writing; specifically the way you describe sadness in "Made For You" as an abyss that stretches from one rib to another. I thought to myself "How would Red describe this? Probably in a really beautiful way" 😂 And well, I dunno how beautiful black holes are, but that's what I came up with lol.

The tattoo exchange was one of my favorite parts as well, specifically because of the different ways in which both of them recall that event happening. The reader has very rose-colored glasses when it comes to a lot of aspects of their relationship, but I like to think that there was genuinely a connection between them at one point. Crane has outgrown it, but still cares about her because of everything they've been through. And he cared back then too, in his own overcontrolling way.

The tattoo itself was of course inspired directly by parts of the song/music video, but the idea of the reader and Crane's tattoos pressing up against each other when they held hands was inspired by something an ex-boyfriend of mine proposed doing, long ago. Which thank god I did NOT go through with 😂 But I incorporated it into this fic because it made me think of my own slightly obsessive first love haha.

There are so many little bits of myself in this fic; many of which you've quoted above. And it's kind of comforting to know that they are relatable. Every life has its good and bad moments, and many of them are both. Bittersweet, but important nonetheless.

And oh my gosh, that last line 😆 This was, without a doubt, the part that I struggled THE most to write. Again, I knew what I wanted to convey. I knew that I wanted a callback to the song, but in an ominous way. But everything I wrote just felt clunky and awkward, and I rephrased the last few paragraphs and this line legitimately probably a dozen times.

So again, thank you for making me feel like all the hard work was worth it! Now that I've broken the seal on angst, maybe the next time will feel a little easier haha 🤞

i’m not sure if anon has already requested a character for that song but if ur up for it CAN WE HAVE THAT SONG WITH JONATHAN CRANE. also i just listened to that song for the first time in like 3 years and got major deja vu lmao 😭

also ps i love u and ur writing !!!

This is related to another ask from an anon, requesting a fic based off of Katy Perry's song, The One That Got Away. I am so sorry to both of you that it's taken me forever to write this, but thank you for your patience and support <3

Now We Pay The Price

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: Life hasn't turned out exactly the way you wanted it to. Isolated and distraught as you watch time slip by while you sit, trapped in Arkham, your only wish is to recapture the way that things used to be.

Warnings: Angst, whump, sexual themes but no explicit smut, mental health themes, obsession, unhealthy relationship dynamics, mention of needles, mention of sedatives, unrequited love, established past romantic relationship, ambiguity

A/N: I hardly ever write angst, so please be gentle with me lol. But with the song inspo, I couldn't help but go in that direction. Slightly nervous to post this, but also happy that I've branched out from my comfort zone a bit!

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

Lying on your stomach, feet in the air, you stretched the thin cotton sheets with your hand. Just enough to give them the tension you needed to glide a ballpoint pen over the fabric, scratching over and over the same mark to make it appear complete. This was far from the perfect medium for doodling - but sheets were what you had, and so they were what you used.

Even the pen was contraband. You knew you weren’t supposed to have it. What anyone thought you’d do with it… honestly, you had no idea. As if you could use a pen for anything other than what you were wrapped up in doing now - carefully and determinedly drawing hearts.

You stopped to rest your head for a moment on the pitifully thin pillow. Across the room, blank white concrete stared back at you. Day in, day out. Endless. The same room with the same walls.

Picking up the pen again, you placed the tip right in between the lobes of one of the many hearts. Scratch, scratch, scratch. A messy, zig-zagging line bisected the doodle. 

Broken.

You sighed, and started to color a different heart, filling it with blue ink that didn’t seem very inclined to stick to the bed sheets. It was slow going. The deep azure tint reminded you of deoxygenated blood, like you would see in a textbook diagram. Once the heart was completely filled, you moved dutifully on to the next.

A rustling at your door made you jump. Quickly, you stuffed the pen under your pillow, and turned up the sheets to hide your drawings. It wouldn’t be very good for you if anybody saw them.

You sat up, arranging your rumpled jumpsuit as neatly as you could. Leather straps hung off the sides of your bed, and you spared them a glance, bristling at the memories of having them lashed over your body. 

The metal door slid open slowly, until you could finally see…

Him. Your heart skipped a beat and a half as he stepped stiffly into the room, pulling the door shut behind him. He didn’t make a show of locking it, but it was still all too hard to miss the way his hand stopped short at the keyhole, before slipping into his pocket.

“Jonathan. I’m so glad-”

“Don’t call me that,” he bristled. “In here, we don’t know each other. Please. You always forget that.”

“...Dr. Crane,” you corrected yourself. 

His tone was so bitter that you could feel it in the very back of your throat, trying to claw its way down to your heart. You swallowed, trying to bite back the taste.

“I’m sorry. I was just happy to see you.” You smiled, pushing through your discomfort, for his sake.

Crane was clearly agitated. He took a few steps into the room, before turning around and facing the door. For one brief moment, you couldn’t see his face, until finally he turned back. His eyes were ice as they stared down at you.

“Do you have any idea how difficult you’ve been making things for me?” he spat. 

The accusation hurt, of course. Though you knew very well what he meant. You had been acting out, more than usual, as of late. And although it wasn’t without a purpose, you could see that it was wearing him thin. But… how else were you supposed to see each other? 

Arkham Asylum wasn’t exactly known for its model patients. It took a lot to get Dr. Crane’s attention.

“If we spent more time together, I wouldn’t be so difficult,” you replied, trying to keep your tone even.

Crane pinched the bridge of his nose, in that way that you were well acquainted with. He’d always had that habit. Back when you’d first met, you had loved making him get frustrated - just enough for a laugh. Some things never changed.

“You’re really backing me into a corner,” Crane sighed. “And I really wish you wouldn’t.”

“Let’s talk,” you offered, patting the bed. “That’s what you’re here for, right?”

Crane, reluctantly, sat down. You could sense his exhaustion in the way that he almost collapsed onto the bed, hands gripping the edge for support. You inched a bit closer, enough so that your knees touched briefly. Crane pulled away.

You wanted to reach out; put a hand on his shoulder, just like you’d done so many times before. He used to like it when you touched him. Sometimes, you liked to think that yours was the only gentle embrace that he had ever known. Maybe it was silly, but the thought of it always made you feel better.

Now, Crane’s eyes held nothing but menace as he glared over at you, as if you were a stain on the bed sheets. You wondered, vaguely, what had happened to change things.

So much. So much that had led you to this place, where you could be so close to him and yet felt more separated than ever.

“I hate to say it, Doc, but I think I’m going crazy in here,” you joked, trying to lighten the mood.

He barely had a reaction; a deep sigh the only hint that he’d heard what you said at all.

“And why do you think that is?” he asked, finally. 

The psychiatrist in him always came through to shove even more distance between you. Like a shield, put up just when you’d started to press through the fog of tension that hung heavy in the room. You swallowed your frustration at being kept out, and tried to answer him honestly.

“Because I barely get to see you,” you replied.

That was the wrong answer, and Crane’s shoulders swung abruptly to face you. 

He was scary like this. Almost scary, anyway. If you didn’t know him better, the look in his eyes would have sent you cowering. 

But you did know him, so well, and you remembered with sudden clarity that he’d always been bothered by feeling inadequate. You felt awful; you hadn’t meant to imply that he wasn’t doing enough.

“I’m sorry,” you soothed, before he could say anything. “I know that you’re busy, but-”

“But you continue to make yourself into a problem,” he hissed. “You know the only reason you’re in here instead of rotting away over at Blackgate is because of me, right?”

You nodded, too shocked by embarrassment to speak.

“Then for my sake, why don’t you act like it?”

“I’m…” You paused for a moment, sharp tears welling up in your eyes. “I’m just… lost without you,” you whispered. “You know that. I always told you I would be.”

The first tear fell, and you tried to hide your face.

“Don’t cry,” Crane sighed.

You could hear the harsh tinge of annoyance in his voice, and wished that it was anything else. Even his pity would have been better than knowing that your feelings were now nothing but inconvenience. You choked on your own throat, trying to stifle a sob.

“Please don’t cry,” he mumbled, slightly softer this time.

But now that you’d started, you couldn’t make yourself stop. If anything, the tears were only coming faster, and you felt yourself start to shrink into your own chest. The little black pit that always seemed to sit there, now swiftly opening up to swallow you.

With a deep and lingering exhale, Crane pulled you close. Suddenly, you were back where you both had been, so many years ago: one person’s cheek pressed into the other’s shoulder. Tears soaking into fabric that seemed to be stained with sadness. You let out a half-laugh, half-sob, and nestled into the crook of his neck.

“Remember when I used to do this for you?”

Crane stiffened slightly beside you.

“Things have changed since then,” he muttered. 

Your memory suddenly flashed back to the first time he had used the words “dysfunctional attachment” to describe you. That had hurt worse than anything else. Even more than all of the other occasions to come, when you’d heard those same words and worse fall from his lips. They could never truly compare to that first time, when your whole world had come crashing abruptly to the ground.

His arm dropped away from you, but you kept your face pressed into his shoulder.

“Things haven’t really changed,” you said. “I still belong to you.”

“You don’t.”

Two words that stung worse than hundreds of needles. You tried to pretend that the wind hadn’t been knocked out of you, as you replied.

“I do. And I will. Always.”

You looked up at him with wet eyes, a trace of the old life that you’d shared together still evident deep within your pupils. Even if only the memories of it lived inside of you, they still lived. They were still something.

“You need to move on,” Crane said flatly. “I know it’s not easy in here, with me…” He sighed. “I did what I could to protect you, but maybe it would have been better if I had just stayed out of your case. Blackgate would have at least given you distance.”

“I don’t want distance,” you whispered. “I just want to be with you.”

“You can’t be.”

Always so stubborn.

“I could be, if you’d help me get out.”

Confusion flashed across Crane’s face, quickly replaced with raw terror. 

“Escape Arkham?” His eyebrows furrowed, nearly knitting together. “You can’t be serious. Do you even realize what-?”

“I know, I know,” you hummed. “But just think - we could run away together, just like we always talked about.”

“Stop.”

“Don’t you remember? We promised-”

“Things. Change.” Crane’s voice almost shook as it thundered.

You brought a hand up to his face, gently coaxing until he looked at you.

“But they don’t have to,” you breathed. 

Your eyes drifted down to your wrist, to the space just below your thumb, and over the little tattoo that was etched into your skin. A heart - just like the ones littering your blanket, hidden carefully from Crane’s view.

“Remember when you gave me this?” you asked, holding up the tattoo in front of him.

“No; I remember you doing that to yourself.”

“At first, sure,” you chuckled. “But then, you helped me to finish it, ‘cause-”

“Because I didn’t want you to hurt yourself,” Crane muttered. “Just like you always seem to. Even now.”

You ignored his remark as your hands drifted down to collect one of his pale wrists, then lifted up to your face. The sleeve of his suit jacket slipped back, revealing the spot where once, long ago, you had given him the same mark. Just with a felt-tip pen; he would have never allowed you, even back then, to deface his own body in the same way you had yours. 

At the time, the impermanence of it hadn’t seemed to matter. You’d been too distracted; elated by the way that his and your matching blossoms of ink had pressed up against each other as you’d held hands. 

Now, you pressed a kiss to the blank space.

“Us against the world, Jonathan. Remember?”

Suddenly, his fingers pressed into your face, digging into the sides of your chin as he forced you back into focus.

“Don’t call me that,” he warned, once again. “How many times do I have to tell you? That life doesn’t exist in here.”

Your hands still dangled from his wrist as he continued to crush your jaw, not letting you look away. But this was the one part of him that you didn’t want to face. The part that didn’t need you anymore.

“Jonathan. You know the reason I’m in here, don’t you?”

“Are you asking if I know about your case? All of the crimes you committed?” he huffed. “Because yes - I was very involved in the trial, and it was nearly impossible to keep everyone else in the dark about…”

Us was the word that he couldn’t bring himself to say.

“That’s not what I mean,” you said. “I mean, do you know why I did those things?”

“Stop - please don’t tell me this again.”

“I did them for you,” you cried, your emotions getting the better of you again. “I do everything for you. So don’t you dare pretend you don’t need me, when really the only fucking reason you’re not stuck in here with me is because I always-”

“Stop.”

Crane’s hands tore away to grab you by the shoulders, wrenching you back to reality. Somehow he always managed to do that. To pull you straight out of the riptide, just as it was about to sweep you away.

“I never asked you to do what you did,” he hissed, articulating each word between clenched teeth.

“But I did it anyway,” you spat. “Because you always get into trouble. Because I told you I’d be there for you, no matter what. And because I always keep promises.”

“I don’t need you to anymore.” Crane’s hands squeezed you uncomfortably. “I don’t - I didn’t need you to ruin your life for me.”

“My life isn’t ruined if it’s for you.”

“Jesus Christ…”

Crane’s hand came up to rake through his hair, but before he could pull away fully, you caught him. Fingers clenched tight to the front of his suit, you pulled back and forced him to fall with you. Your back hit the bed, and Crane scrambled to catch himself before his full weight could slam into you. His body perched just above yours, caging you in his arms.

“This. You must remember this.” 

Your words were a whisper, barely loud enough to pass from your lips to his ear, despite how close he was. Your legs frantically came up to tug at his waist, trying to force him closer.

“This was the only time I felt alive,” you continued. “When we were like this. You remember.”

How could he not? You could still live in that moment, if you tried hard enough. As if it had been only yesterday. Both of you nervous and fumbling, nearly falling off of the bed as he hovered over you and you clung to him. 

The way that your bodies had melted together, almost desperately, in a way that had made you feel certain that neither one of you would let go. Letting go then had meant something worse than death; it meant a life that dragged on without you and him together. 

The stale echoes of passion still rang in your ears as you looked up, silently begging for him to rekindle the spark that had been there.

Crane’s expression was all but impossible to read. His face half-hidden beneath bangs that fell into his eyes. The two-second pause was like a lifetime as you awaited his answer.

“Of course I remember.”

Your heart soared, flying recklessly up.

“But that doesn’t mean it’s the same now.”

Broken. Smashed hard against the cold floor of your cell.

“I don’t believe that,” you breathed. “I can’t. I-”

“You need to,” he interrupted. “Because it’s the truth.”

You stayed stock still on the mattress as Crane briskly pushed himself up, disentangling himself from your limbs. He exhaled as he tugged at his jacket, trying to make himself presentable. 

You weren’t sure how he could find the nerve, after ripping your whole world apart.

“I’m upping the dose on your sedatives,” he informed you, still not meeting your gaze. “But I would prefer if you could find it within yourself to behave so that I don’t have to. I don’t like to do this, but-”

“Appearances…” Your voice drifted through the room. “Have to be kept up.”

He had told you as much, probably dozens of times. Just like he’d told you the old life between you no longer mattered, or even existed. If it ever had.

“I’m glad you understand,” he said shortly. 

His back was already turned, but you looked up to watch him drift out of the room, quickly pocketing the keys on his way out. 

Your head fell back, hard, but the sensation did nothing to ground you. You felt all too lost and adrift; trapped in a situation you had created. This wasn’t how things were supposed to end up.

Your hand drifted silently under the pillow, and wrapped around the barrel of the pen that was still hidden there. 

Suddenly, grotesque understanding of all the reasons why no one would want you to have such a thing flooded into your consciousness. The possibilities were many and bleak, but they all led back to the same conclusion. It was just like you had told Crane earlier.

If your life together didn’t exist in this place, then the only solution was to leave. 

You smiled. With resolve swirling dangerously inside your veins, you vowed to make sure that nothing like this ever happened again. You were going to be together, no matter what. 

There would be no getting away.

[dracothedeatheatingcupcake-ao3]

Random IshiMondo Story Prompt Response

Hi guys!!! So! This!!! Uh… the short of it is that a few months ago, I got an ask about an AU where Taka (who in this AU is the son of a police chief) gets kidnapped by the Crazy Diamonds as a present for Mondo’s 21st birthday. Taka was taken a month before and has been beaten, bound, and starved, and is all around unhappy and in a bad place. He feels that he deserves it. When Mondo is presented with Taka, however, he gets freaked and goes to “interrogate” Taka and they talk, it’s cute, and all ends well.

When I first got the request, I was very uncertain if I could fulfill this request, since I’m not a big fan of torture fics and this was just… it had big torture feels to me. However, I got an idea for it and I posted about it. The person who originally sent me the ask asked to see my idea, and I began writing it out. I thought it would be short, just a quick detail of the idea, but… well. Y’all know me. I don’t know what the word “short” means. So… uh, here’s a 25k word write up of the idea. It’s not quite a fic, since there’s very little actual dialogue in quotes, but it goes entirely through the story, with details and things like that, so… I guess it’s kind of a fic in its own right??? I legit don’t know, ha. I just wrote it and I feel so bad for taking so long without replying to that anon. So, if you’re still here anon, this one’s for you! And if not, then I hope other people like it too. I made a few changes to the initial request that I mention in the story, such as it being Mondo’s 20th birthday, not his 21st, and Taka only being taken for a couple of days, not a month.

Anyway! I hope y’all enjoy! :-D I’m excited to finally post this! It was collecting dust in my notes for AGES before I got around to finishing it. And I like how it turned out! It’s not perfect, but it’s something. And it’s prolly the fluffiest thing I’ve written, which is ironic considering the prompt, ha.

(Also, the anon asked for the fic to not be super mature, so I censored Mondo's curses. I couldn't NOT have Mondo curse, but I could censor them. So that's why it's like that, ha.)

(Read more added to not completely break your dashboard, ha.)

~~~~~

The fic starts with Mondo’s POV. It’s late afternoon slash early evening the day of his birthday. Mondo is in a bit of a funk, since he is turning 20 (not 21, since in Japan the 21st birthday isn’t really anything special. 20, however, is super important as it is the day they come of age and are allowed to legally drink) and is now legally an adult, and yet he is still leading his gang. Many of the original members have left, including Michi, and many others are getting too old to really stay in a biker gang for too much longer, and he doesn’t quite know where he fits anymore. However, he doesn’t know what else he could do. He’s a biker, so it’s not like he has much of an education or job experience other than being a biker… not to mention that Daiya’s dying wish was for him to keep the gang together and running, and he’s not sure when it’s “okay” for him to stop doing that. It all is eating at him, and he is very anxious over the idea of his future. He’s drinking a bit but isn’t quite drunk. He knows his gang is planning a party for him in an hour, though, which he is looking forward to. His gang is the closest thing to a family he has, so he is glad they care enough about him to want to throw him a party. He also knows that they have a surprise for him, which they said would help cure him of his blues, which of course they’ve noticed since Mondo is the least subtle person outside of Taka.

Eventually Mondo gets a call from his gang to head to their main hideout, so he heads out on his motorcycle, kind of excited to see what they have in store for him.

~

The POV then switches to Taka. Taka is bound, blindfolded (bag over his head), and gagged in a small, cold, smelly room. He is dehydrated and is very hungry and has no idea what time it is. It gets revealed that Taka was jumped two days prior (not a month, since I just… could not do that to Taka, sorry. Also, I’m fairly certain Takaaki would move heaven and earth to find his missing son, so… yeah) and was beaten pretty badly as he was walking home. He has a broken nose, bruised, possibly broken ribs, a black eye, and a small cut along his throat (from when he was kidnapped and he tried to escape, so the gang put a knife under his throat). He also has rope burns on his wrists from where the rope has dug into them. All in all, not fun, but nothing permanent and nothing that won’t heal. He has a small mat to sleep on, which he is thankful for, but he doesn’t know much about what is in his room, since he can’t see it.

Taka had not gotten a good look at his assailants when he was taken, so he has no idea they are The Crazy Diamonds, or even that they are a motorcycle gang (I imagine they’d use a van when kidnapping someone? I don’t know, ha), and he figures it’s probably someone who objects to his grandfather and thinks that he probably deserves what is happening to him. He has hope that he will be let go, but part of him fears that he will not.

Taka’s thoughts get interrupted when some gangsters enter his small room, grabbing him and manhandling him. This is not unusual, since they have been allowing him to use the toilet every so often, so he’s not super confused at first. However, he gets concerned when they don’t take him out of the room and instead start stripping him. Taka gets super freaked out and tries to fight them off, but he’s so weak and beaten down that he barely budges them at all. They laugh at him and tell him that they’re just changing him out of his dirty clothes, since he’s hardly presentable as is. Taka reluctantly stops fighting— partially since he doesn’t like how disgusting he currently is, partially because he realizes how futile it is— and is a bit surprised to find they do exactly as they say. They don’t change his underwear, to his private relief, but they put him into some other outfit that is very different from his usual white suit and tie. It’s a soft t-shirt that dips low on his chest and a pair of tight jeans. It isn’t really comfortable, but it is better than being in his ruined suit, he guesses. The gangsters leave then, laughing and joking about the party, but Taka doesn’t understand what they mean. As Taka is left alone, he is again left to wonder if he’ll be allowed to leave soon. Or ever…

~

The POV switches back to Mondo. He is sitting in his hideout, drinking a beer, smirking as his gang tells stories about Mondo’s greatest achievements. It feels bittersweet to him, though, with the doubts and everything he’s been having. He tries to get into it, but he knows that the gang knows he’s not really feeling it. After a little while, the stories trail off and Mondo’s new second in command (a young upstart OC who Mondo has been personally training, kind of like how Daiya trained him) brings up the surprise they have for Mondo, the gang getting excited about it. Mondo finds his curiosity piqued and tells them to get on with it. Excited, a few gangsters leave to grab their ‘surprise,’ while Mondo stays behind, wondering about it.

~

Taka gets jolted out of a light doze when the door bursts open and the gang members burst in, grabbing him roughly. Taka goes along placidly, thinking they are probably taking him to the bathroom again, or something like that. However, he notices that they are taking him down a different path than they usually do, which makes his fear spike, wondering what they are going to do to him now. His ribs and other injuries are hurting a lot, but he does his best to not make a sound, not wanting to get hurt anymore.

Eventually he is led through a door and is assaulted by noise, loud voices jeering at him and boisterous laughter, which freaks him out even more. He begins to struggle then, unable to help it, but it is useless as the gangsters are so much stronger, especially with how weak Taka currently is. They just laugh at him and keep pulling him along.

Eventually they reach wherever it is they are taking him, as they throw him down onto the ground, his knees hitting the concrete harshly, jarring his ribs enough to make him let out his first noise of pain. It shames him, but he gets distracted when he hears a loud inhale of breath, followed by a loud and brash voice asking, “what the absolute f*ck is this sh*t?!”

This leads to a bit of stammering from the gangsters, one of them explaining that it’s supposed to be a present for him, but the person gets cut off by a dangerous sounding growl. The room goes silent, then, for a few moments. Then the same voice from earlier— the loud and brash one— demands they remove the bag over his head. Taka barely has a moment to comprehend what is going on before he is being assaulted by light, his eyes unable to handle it as he blinks, trying to get used to the abrupt change in light.

Once the spots in his vision clear, he is able to look ahead of him, where he had heard a quick inhale of breath a few moments before. He sees legs, dressed in loose black pants with white loafers on the person’s feet. He lifts his eyes a bit more and can make out a black leather duster with designs on it and a white tank top overtop a highly muscular chest. His eyes linger for a moment, before he looks up the rest of the way, eyes intent as they meet what Taka assumes must be the instigator of his capture, his heart racing with fear. And when his eyes meet wide lavender, the most beautiful color he has ever seen, well…

But such feelings are highly inappropriate and improper, given the circumstances, so he hastily pushes them away. For the most part…

Though he can’t escape the feeling that something about this man is oddly familiar to him...

~

Mondo looks down at the kid before him, his blood frozen and his mind completely blank. He can’t really comprehend what he is seeing. He knows that most members of his gang aren’t that bothered by violence, knows that he himself certainly isn’t, but something about seeing this young boy (whom he assumes can’t be older than 16, he looks so youthful even despite the dark bruises upon his face) so roughed up makes his insides squirm and anger rise within him. He does his best to curb it, though, knowing it would just make his gang doubt his ability to lead them if he gets uppity about things like this, but it’s hard. The boy’s face is so messed up he can’t quite tell who he is, but he has the niggling feeling that he is familiar, though he can’t quite put his finger on it.

Throughout his musing, Mondo has been staring at the boy, absently taking in his busted features. The boy’s eyes, however, hold his attention the most, though he tries to avoid them the best he can, hating how resigned and afraid they look. But he can’t quite help it, and when he looks back at the boy unbidden, he is shocked to see the kid looking directly at him, making him feel very strange inside. They continue to stare at one another for several long moments, until his second in command clears his throat awkwardly, forcing Mondo to look over at him, his anger rising again, though he fights against it. Again.

Mondo demands once more to know the meaning of this, and the second in command (SIC) explains quickly that it was a present, explaining that they had wanted to help Mondo feel ‘like himself again,’ so they had gotten him someone to help him remember what it’s like to be a big, bad, biker gang leader. The SIC pauses for a minute, clearly wanting to drive up the drama, before dramatically revealing that the boy is none other than Kiyotaka Ishimaru, the son of Chief Takaaki Ishimaru, the bothersome chief of police who has been on their tail for months now. The SIC explains hesitantly that Mondo had mentioned a couple weeks prior how he wanted to beat the punk up after seeing a picture of him and his father in the news, explaining that the gang had come up with the plan not long after, wanting to give their leader what he truly wanted.

It’s around then that Mondo realizes why the kid is so familiar looking, dread filling his stomach. He had come across a picture of the boy and his father in the paper a few weeks before, after the police chief had been given an honor or something for his bravery.

His eyes had lingered on the kid, though, tracing over his features in a way he knows means he was feeling interested. Mondo has known he was bi for years at that point, and though he rarely pursues men romantically or sexually, he has done it a couple times and he knows he definitely has interest in both men and women. His gang knows this and is fine with it, but it still sometimes embarrasses him to talk about it, especially when his eye is caught by someone who is decidedly not the type of person that a biker gang leader should ever look twice at, like that kid. So, when his gang had caught him staring at the picture for a bit too long, he had panicked and aggressively said that he was infuriated by the “goody-toe-shoe’s” pretentious look, saying he wanted nothing more than to beat the ever-loving sh*t out of the dude.

He hadn’t thought they’d actually do anything about it, though. He certainly hadn’t thought that they would, you know… kidnapthe dude. Who, he realizes, is actually older than he’d first thought, since he had recalled reading that the was home on break from university, the article saying he was 19. It makes him feel weird inside to think about, knowing that they aren’t that far off in age from one another.

However… however, as he sees the expectant looks on his gang’s faces, all of them expecting him to be happy about what they’ve done, he realizes that he’s kind of trapped. If he rejects their ‘gift’ and yells at them, then they will know he was lying when he said he wanted to beat up the kid. He also realizes that they’ve not really done anything against his rules. Well... kind of. Technically, given his position as son of the police chief, the boy is fair game for them to brutalize. After all, he’s not really an ‘innocent,’ now, is he? Mondo shouldn’t feel any problem about beating the kid, honestly, it’s not like he really knows him. And while he definitely doesn’twant to do that, for reasons he doesn’t understand, he knows that he probably should. The gang expects that he will and if he doesn’t... well.

So... he pushes down the vague nausea rising within him and forces a smirk on his face. He knows he isn’t the best liar, but he knows that the members of his gang aren’t exactly the smartest or most observant dudes, so he figures it’s fine. He then laughs and nods, saying how he recalls that now, thanking his gang for their thoughtfulness. He doesn’t (can’t) look at the kid as he says it, fearing what look he would have on his face.

Then... then Mondo asks if he could have some privacy to “talk with” the kid, smirking the whole while. Despite how he’s still not looking at him, he can see the kid shrink down in fear in the corner of his eye, making the twisting in his gut even worse. But he can’t stop, so he just keeps smirking as the gang cheers, happy that their ‘gift’ was well received.

Mondo has the same gangsters as before grab the boy and drag him to his private quarters at the hideout. They put the bag back on, to prevent him from being able to see their hideout, and while it makes Mondo distinctly uncomfortable— hating how it makes the boy thrash weakly, soft mewls of fear being released from his lips— he says nothing as he trails after them, fighting hard to keep the lazy smirk on his face. It’s hard, but he somehow manages.

As they all reach Mondo’s private quarters, Mondo has a moment to wonder what the f*ck is going to happen next.

~

Taka is terrified. Taka has been scared this entire time, but now the fear has reached its paramount, his heart racing so fast and angry in his chest. Something about the lavender eyed man has made him feel very afraid, especially once he realizes why, exactly, he knows him.

He is Mondo Owada, leader of the biggest biker gang in Japan, and he is definitely a man to be feared. He’s heard everything about him from his father, who has been very annoyed and angry at the biker gang for the vandalism and crime they get up to, and he knows that the man has a fearsome temper and a notorious desire for violence. And now he knows that he had been kidnapped by the gang to be a ‘present’ for their leader, which is a terrifying thought to Taka. He knows all about the kind of things cruel criminals will do to other people, having heard many horrific tales from his father. And while he does his best to not let his fear consume him, it’s hard not to. Especially considering how he is apparently being led to the leader’s private chambers, which he knows never means anything good. Best case, he will just be beaten harshly again. Worst case... well. Taka may be naïve, but even he isn’t thatnaïve. Unfortunately…

Eventually they come to a halt, though, and he hears the sound of a door opening. Taka somehow gets even more afraid, then, and begins thrashing again, more desperate than the last time, finally letting go of his pride enough to beg the gangsters to let him go. He can feel tears falling down his face, knows that his voice is wavering horribly, but he cannot stop it. He wants to go home. He misses his father, and his small room in his father’s run down but nicer than when he’d been a child apartment, and his nice clean suits, and... and all of it. He doesn’t know if he’s even intelligible or not, but he can do nothing to stop the words and the thrashing, even as his arms gets twisted painfully behind him.

Taka only stops when he hears a low growl before him, followed quickly by the feel of something brushing his side. He lets out a yelp of fear, terrified the leader will harm him, but... but the hand on his side doesn’t do anything other than rest there, softer than he expected, almost gentle. He can feel the tension in the hand, though, and something about it makes his heart race. From fear, of course...

The leader begins to talk then, warning him lowly to behave or things would get worse for him, and while it sounds angry and cruel on the surface, Taka... Taka can detect a hint of something else beneath the words. Something... worried. It confuses Taka, especially since he usually doesn’t pick up on things like that, but he decides to accept it at face value, too tried and weak to keep fighting anyway. With a defeated nod, he hunches his shoulders as he gets marched into the room without a word more, hating the snickers he hears sound behind him.

Taka gets thrown to the ground again, then, his knees really starting to hurt from the rough treatment, not to mention how awful his ribs feel. He doesn’t think his ribs are broken, but he can tell that they are at least badly bruised. And he knows worse is yet to come when he hears the leader tell his gang members to leave them alone and not hang around to listen, claiming he wants complete privacy. It makes him shake uncontrollably to hear, a soft keen escaping his lips without his consent. More snickers rise, but then he hears footsteps retreating from him, letting him know that at least there won’t be an audience for what is about to happen to him. He honestly doesn’t know if that is better or not.

The tears fall harder when he hears the door click shut, his body shaking with silent sobs. After a moment of silence, he hears more footsteps, these ones quieter than he would have expected, considering who he knows they belong to. He wants to start begging again, pleading that he just wants to go home, but his throat is so thick that he can’t seem to manage it. All he can do is cringe back to make himself as small as possible and hope to any god who is listening that he somehow makes it out of this somewhat intact. Please...

He flinches when he hears someone kneel down beside him, his breath growing shakier and more ragged, the tears streaming down his face uncomfortably under the bag that is still over his head. There is a beat of silence between them, and then-

“Hey. Uh... know y’ain’t got any reason ta believe me, but, uh... I ain’t gonna hurt ya, okay? Just... sh*t. F*ck... I’m gonna take the bag off yer head now, okay? Don’t f*ckin’ try an’ head butt me or anythin’... sh*t.”

The words are far softer than he had ever expected, causing some dissonance to rise within him as his expectation wars with reality. Part of him wants to believe the man before him, but... well. Taka is no fool.

Before he can try and rationalize anything, he feels the bag get tugged off his head, gentler this time than the last. He can feel his anxiety and fear spike when he feels cool air hit his face, but when he opens his eyes and looks ahead of him at the man before him, he feels his heart freeze when his eyes meet lavender.

He thinks about how they are still so incredibly beautiful, more so now that they are looking at him softly, concern and a simmering anger roiling within them. The anger makes him feel afraid, but part of him thinks that perhaps the anger isn’t directed at him. He knows the thought is foolish, but perhaps...

The man before him starts talking then, making a comment about how messed up his face looks. Taka flushes and looks away, feeling oddly ashamed, but he feels gentle fingers turn his face back, his eyes immediately landing on soft lavender again. He has no idea how to read the eyes before him, he’s never been good at reading other people’s emotions, but he... he doesn’t think it’s bad. Or... he hopes not...

After a beat of time, the man looks away, down towards his body. It makes him feel nervous again, but before it has a chance to turn into fear, the man is talking, saying that he’s going to cut the rope around his wrists, but that Taka has to promise him that he won’t try and fight him if he does. He says that he doesn’t want to hurt him, but that he can’t just let him cause a scene, and if Taka fights, he will be forced to fight back.

After a long moment of internal debate, Taka nods and promises that he won’t, his voice shaking and weak, but loud enough for the man to hear him. The man nods tersely, before reaching for a switch blade from his pocket, which makes Taka panic despite himself, his body automatically cringing away in fear. He doesn’t mean to, it’s just an automatic fight or flight response.

The man shushes him, his hands gentle on him again as he does his best to soothe. He then repeats that he isn’t going to harm him, he promises. He goes on and explains that it’s a man’s promise and that his brother always taught him that promises between men are the most important promises a man can make, and that you can’t ever break something like that. While Taka has no reason to believe the man, he... he is surprised to realize that he does. And so, he nods again, shifting into a seated position, angling his body to allow the man access to his wrists. He mutters an absent apology, to which the man snorts, replying that he gets it, don’t worry about it.

The man cuts the rope carefully, then, Taka super tense the entire time, waiting for the punchline and for the man to abruptly change temperament and start hurting him, laughing at his naivety for believing him. He is expecting this so much that when the man pulls back and puts his knife carefully away into his pocket, studying him closely, Taka doesn’t realize it for a few seconds. And when he does... he can’t help but blink, his eyebrows furrowing and his lips frowning.

Not liking the way that the man is staring at him— uncomfortable more for the gentleness and concern he sees than out of fear— he lifts his arms from behind his back and looks at the red and raw wounds around his wrists, dried blood mingling with fresh blood, making him wince. It hurts quite a lot, but considering how much pain he is in overall, it barely registers, honestly.

His breath leaves him entirely a second later, though, when he feels strong yet still so utterly gentle hands grab his, cradling them oh so tenderly within their warm and tender embrace. It makes his cheeks flush bright red, the sensation making him a little lightheaded and dizzy, even more so when his eyes automatically seek out lavender, shivering when their eyes meet. The man smiles at him, then, a small and crooked thing, but Taka privately believes it may be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. The thought concerns him, but not enough to make him berate himself. As confused as he feels, he finds he prefers this than being beaten, thanks ever so.

The man begins talking again, then, saying how he sure has been hurt a lot, his voice low and rumbling, full of concern. It makes Taka flush with embarrassment, oddly ashamed at his state, like it was his fault or something. He apologizes softly, unsure what the man expects from him.

The man hums in discontent, though, shaking his head, before explaining that he’s not blaming him, don’t worry. He then goes on to ask if Taka would want him to dress the wounds, saying he has some first aid supplies and things like that. That makes Taka blush again, but he realizes that that might be for the best. He nods his head slowly, still afraid, but growing more used to this as time passes. He’s still waiting for the shoe to drop, for the man to suddenly decide to hurt him, fearing that the biker is just lulling him into a false sense of security before harming him worse than ever before, but... well. Taka has always been a trusting person by nature, so he can’t help his body’s natural inclination to trust the man.

The man leaves then for a little while, though Taka can hear him shuffling around in a small room attached to the one he’s in, which he assumes must be a bathroom. He takes the time to observe his surroundings, realizing that he’s in a fairly nice and spacious bedroom. It has a queen size bed along the back wall near the center, with a couple nightstands on either side. There is a large banner for the Crazy Diamonds that takes up half of the back wall, with other smaller decorations littering the other walls. There is a table and a small TV set, a couch and armchair, things like that. Taka thinks it looks kind of nice, maybe even a little cozy, even with the harsh and cold concrete floor and walls. The lighting is kept low, too, which Taka appreciates as he realizes his head is aching softly, the dehydration and hunger getting to him. Not to mention the blood loss...

He doesn’t get to dwell on this long before the man is back, carrying a large kit of first aid supplies. Taka realizes he must have a look of surprise on his face when the man smirks at him, snickering softly. The man then explains that he’s a biker, of course he has an extensive first aid kit in his room, duh. The words are oddly teasing, which makes Taka blush again, averting his eyes shyly.

He jolts a little when he feels gentle fingers touch him again, but he settles a lot quicker than before, offering the man a shaky smile when he sees the concern in the lavender eyes again. The man clears his throat awkwardly then and says that he’s going to start dressing the wounds, warning Taka that it’s going to hurt. Taka knows this, has dressed enough of his own wounds during his lifetime, and nods his head tightly as he grits his teeth in anticipation.

Despite the sting that comes from the antiseptic that the man uses, Taka doesn’t actually feel the pain all that much as the man gently cleans off his wrists first, not with how gentle the man is going. The man works in silence for a moment, before he begins talking, introducing himself formally at last. While Taka had obviously known his name, he finds himself able to think of the man by his first name for the first time.

Mondo asks for his name, then, even though Taka knows he must know it, considering that his gang had said it earlier. But the conversation helps distract from the stinging of the antiseptic, so he hesitantly replies, saying his name. He then, for reasons he doesn’t know, says that Mondo could call him ‘Taka,’ if he’d like. Taka does not get called that often by people, even if he privately calls himself it, but something about hearing Mondo say the nickname his mother gave him is oddly alluring to him, his stomach clenching with knots as a pleasant heat rises within him.

Despite what people often say about him, Taka knows that he is no fool. And as such, he dimly understands what it is he is currently feeling for the man before him. He does his best to rationalize it away, telling himself that it’s just a reaction to the stressful situation, that he’s just responding to the biker’s apparent kindness after so much cruelty, that it’s nothing more than that. Taka knows that he is gay, has known this for some time, but he knows that what he currently is feeling is not real, that it is manufactured based on the situation. Stockholm Syndrome, he tells himself. Nothing more.

Still, it’s hard to ignore how his stomach churns as Mondo gently tends to his wounds, the biker letting out soft comments here and there, asking him questions every so often when the pain gets really bad. Questions about his life, what he’s studying in uni, what career he wants, if he has a girlfriend... things like that. The personal questions make him blush, and while he knows he probably shouldn’t be telling these things to a biker gang leader, he can’t help how he replies honestly. He’s always been an open person, after all. He says that he’s studying political science, since he wants to become Prime Minister one day. He blushes when he says that he has no girlfriend, blushes harder when he accidentally lets slip that he has no friends in general, either.

That makes Mondo pause, the biker staring at him with wide eyes, asking him why not. The question embarrasses Taka, but he again answers truthfully, stammering about how he’s always been very bad at conversation, that he can’t ever manage to hold one for longer than a few minutes without boring or annoying his conversation partner. He also explains a little about his grandfather, embarrassed yet again.

Mondo doesn’t get mad at him, though, like he fears. He just hums thoughtfully, eyes glazed as he thinks about something, before he blurts out that he thinks Taka is pretty good at conversation, mumbling that he likes talking to him. It makes Taka blush bright red again, but he feels some comfort in the fact that Mondo is blushing just as bright too. Taka stammers out a shaky thanks, the words hanging in the air as they both stare awkwardly at the ground, the dorks unable to handle the Emotion.

After an awkward moment passes, Mondo clears his throat and continues dressing the wounds, having just finished wrapping Taka’s torso with a lot of gauze to help with the bruising. Mondo had mentioned that he didn’t think the ribs were broken, just sprained, but that the gauze should help the bruising feel a little better. With that done, Mondo moves onto Taka’s face, wincing a little as he sees the dark bruising and the broken nose.

Apologizing softly, Mondo asks if he can set his nose so it will heal straight. It’s been a couple days since the injury, so doing so might risk breaking it again, he explains. Taka thinks about that for a second, biting his lip gently, before nodding, not looking forward to the pain but knowing that it will likely be better in the long run. Mondo apologizes again, soft and awkward, before gently grabbing his nose and setting it as quick as he can.

It still hurts quite a lot, and Taka cannot help the whimper of pain he gives, tears rising to his eyes and falling quick, stinging the small cuts all along his cheeks. To his intense surprise, he feels a warm hand cup his cheek, a soothing thumb coming up to gently wipe the tears away. He hears Mondo shush him softly again, muttering quietly that it’s okay. That Taka is okay.

Taka feels his heart beat fast again at the action, his cheeks flushed uncomfortably, but also very pleasantly. He has never felt like this for anyone before, and it concerns him a little. It concerns him more for how little it concerns him, though, to be honest.

Mondo seems to realize what he’s doing then, pulling back abruptly with bright red cheeks and an awkward grimace on his face. He doesn’t storm off, though, and instead goes back to setting his nose, putting a nose splint on it to keep it in place. He apologizes for not having any ice, saying that it’s in the kitchen area but that he can’t head out to grab it just then. He promises that he will soon, though. Taka finds it sweet and smiles shakily at him, thanking him once more. His thanks seems to embarrass Mondo more, and Taka is coming to find that he really adores the shade of pink Mondo’s cheeks turn when he’s embarrassed. But that line of thinking is very dangerous, so he curbs it immediately. Or he tries to...

They continue chatting awkwardly after that, Mondo asking questions and Taka answering. It becomes easier as time goes on, and soon Mondo is chuckling at some of the things Taka says, much to Taka’s professed annoyance. Truthfully, Taka couldn’t care less, since the sound of Mondo’s laughter is very alluring to him. Not that he allows himself to think that, of course.

Before long, all of Taka’s wounds are dressed and cared for, his body bruised and aching, but no longer in intense pain. Mondo helps him get back into the shirt but pauses as he watches him struggle to get back into the jeans (which Mondo had removed with bright red cheeks to get a couple wounds on Taka’s thighs), confused when Taka absently mentions how much he hates jeans and things like that. Mondo asks why he’s wearing them if he hates them, and Taka confusedly explains that Mondo’s gang had dressed him in the outfit earlier, to make him look more presentable. The words seem to anger Mondo, and Taka is shocked to realize that he doesn’t really feel afraid. Not when he recognizes that Mondo isn’t angry at him, per se. That gives him pause, but he pushes it aside again, realizing it’s futile to think about.

Mondo stands up and strides away from him, then, much to Taka’s confusion. Unable to stop himself, he asks where the biker is going, blinking when he sees him stop in front of a dresser. Mondo doesn’t reply as he shifts through it, seeming to be looking for something. The biker lets out a soft noise of triumph after a moment and pulls something out, something Taka cannot see from his distance. As Mondo gets closer, however, he notices that he is holding a pair of old, worn sweatpants, which makes Taka blink.

Mondo explains that they are an old pair from when he’d been younger that he’d never gotten around to tossing even though they no longer fit, handing them to Taka with a soft blush. He explains quickly that he thought they’d be more comfortable than the jeans, and that they should fit him since they’re so old. The explanation oddly makes Taka blush, too, before looking away shyly again even as he takes the sweatpants with another soft thanks.

It’s hard for him to put the pants on with the multitude of injuries he has, so Mondo offers to help, which Taka agrees to with great embarrassment. Now that his wounds are all dressed and the pain has gone down, he is starting to register the feel of Mondo’s hands on his body and it is making him feel some very inappropriate things, he will tell you that! He tries to push it down, but he can’t stop how his body reacts, much to his intense mortification.

Luckily, Mondo doesn’t seem to notice and together they are able to get the pants on. Taka notes that they feel very, very soft, softer than anything he has ever worn before. They are slightly too big and slightly too long on him, but he kind of likes them even more for it.

It’s as he absently petting the soft material that he hears Mondo mutter at him, the words so quiet that it takes Taka a moment to register them. And, when he does, he blushes bright red again, since he realizes that Mondo had said— very awkwardly— that Taka could keep the pants if he wanted after this. Since, you know. It’s not like Mondo can wear them.

Taka tries to stammer out a rejection, saying that he couldn’t possibly accept such a nice gift, to which Mondo gives him a weird look. The look makes Taka anxious that he said something wrong, the feeling growing when Mondo states that it’s not really anything big, they’re just a pair of old sweatpants, it’s really not a big deal?

Taka feels awkward again, but again can’t help how he explains that he’s just never been given a gift before, not from anyone other than his father. It makes his insides squirm when he sees Mondo staring at him with wide eyes, but before it can get too uncomfortable, Mondo looks away, blushing softly again as he says again that it’s really nothing.

Before Taka can begin to compartmentalize the words, Mondo continues, his voice so low and mumbling Taka has to fight to understand him, but Taka... Taka swears he hears Mondo say that he deserves all the gifts in the world, really. Which just... makes everything worse for him, in all honesty.

The awkwardness rises between them, both men blushing brightly and looking anywhere but at the other for several long moments, nearing a full minute. Taka doesn’t like the awkwardness, wants to say something to break it, but he has no idea what, given how bad he always has been at conversing. Not to mention how utterly strange the circumstances are, really...

The silence gets broken finally by the sound of Taka’s stomach growling, to his intense mortification. He is glad that it seems to have broken the tension, at least, as Mondo is looking at him again, wry amusement dancing in his eyes as his lips smirk gently. He teases Taka about his growling stomach, which Taka realizes he doesn’t mind as much as he usually does when he gets taunted by someone. In fact... he almost likes the gentle teasing, finding the soft amusement dancing within Mondo’s eyes to be quite amazing.

Taka accidentally ruins the moment, though, when he absently mentions that it’s been days since he last ate, so he supposes it makes sense that his stomach was growling. He’d meant the words almost like a joke, but it of course fell flat, as Mondo stares at him with wide eyed horror, asking him bluntly what he means.

Nervous (and upset that he ruined the beautiful smile upon Mondo’s lips), Taka stammers about how he has not been given any food and very little water since he was taken a couple nights before, leaving him kind of hungry. He’s actually starving, but he does his best to downplay his plight, not wanting to be too much of a burden.

The reminder of why Taka is there seems to upset Mondo greatly, he notes with dismay, watching as any amusement dies immediately at his words, the simmering anger and upset rising in the lavender eyes as his hands clench into tight fists at his sides. Taka doesn’t feel afraid, though, as he realizes once more that the look isn’t directed at him, but instead... instead is at his gang. Taka almost doesn’t believe this, thinking that he must be deluding himself, but his assumption gets confirmed when he hears Mondo mutter that he’s going to “f*ckin’ kill those godd*mn b*st*rds.”

The words concern Taka greatly, and he is unable to stop himself from chastising Mondo, saying that violence is not ever the answer. Mondo gives him a strange look for that but doesn’t reply back. He just keeps scowling, his eyes averting immediately in what Taka thinks might be shame.

Mondo mutters out yet another apology, then, this one more emotive than the last few. Mondo continues and says that it’s his fault Taka is stuck here, his fault that he was harmed this way. If he had just never said anything about Taka in the first place, then none of this would ever have happened, making him the one to blame for this entire situation. Taka watches, his heart aching softly, as Mondo curls in on himself, looking miserable before him.

Before he can stop himself, he finds himself reaching out, touching Mondo’s shoulder gently, doing his best not to flinch back when Mondo jolts at the touch. He gets tongue tied when Mondo looks up at him with wide, unhappy eyes, but he quickly presses on, realizing then that he doesn’t want Mondo to beat himself up over what had happened. While some part of him is still afraid that this is all some very elaborate hoax to harm him even more in the end, the majority of him is starting to get used to the idea that this might be real. That Mondo might truly mean what he says.

The thought creates some cognitive dissonance inside him, since he has spent years listening to his father rant about biker gangs, the Crazy Diamonds and Mondo in particular, and it’s very strange to think that maybe Mondo isn’t all bad. But he decides to shove the thoughts away for now, knowing it’s unhelpful considering his current situation. Especially since he knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that he doesn’t like seeing Mondo look so miserable and that he would probably do just about anything to make the look go away...

He then awkwardly, but with as much enthusiasm as he can muster (which isn’t much by his standards but is a heck of a lot by anyone else’s), tells Mondo that he doesn’t blame him for what has happened. Not at all, really. He cannot say that it hasn’t been a very terrifying experience, one that he definitely cannot say he has enjoyed, but he assures Mondo that he doesn’t blame him in any way, shape, or form. It was just a tragic misunderstanding, Taka claims, thinking that he almost believes it himself with how confidently he says it. And when Mondo looks up at him, his eyes wide and searching, he does his best to keep his face as open and honest as possible, which isn’t very hard for him to do, honestly.

After a few moments, Mondo asks absently, dazedly, if he truly means that. In response, Taka nods enthusiastically, doing his best to hide the wince of pain the action causes within him. He then verbalizes his answer, saying that of course he means it, he always means everything he says. He even goes on to say how he is very grateful he has met Mondo, his cheeks blushing with his embarrassment as he praises the biker, saying how kind and caring he has been.

Mondo is also blushing, the soft pink he is coming to adore bright on his cheeks, his eyes soft as silk as they look at him steadily. Taka feels his heart beat fast as he stares at Mondo, part of him wondering what is currently going on. He has never felt this way, ever, and while he knows what it means, logically, he has no idea what it means, personally. Emotionally.

He has no idea what exactly it is he wants from this encounter, knowing that what he is feeling is impossible, especially considering who Mondo currently is and who Taka wishes so desperately to be. And yet, as the moments drag on and their eyes do not part, the charged energy around them growing more and more overbearing as the seconds pass, he starts to wonder if any of that truly matters. Mondo’s past and present, his own present and future. Does any of that truly matter when he feels as strongly as this? Or is this a lie, brought on by desperation and relief at having someone be kind to him after such horrible abuse? Can he trust what he is feeling at all? Does it matter? He doesn’t know, he has never felt more lost. All he knows is that when he’s looking at Mondo, he feels calmer and more in control than he ever has... ever, really. Which is ridiculous considering he has never been less in control in his life, but... but...

Before Taka can come to any form of conclusion, he both hears and feels his stomach rumble, his embarrassment rising as he finally breaks the eye contact, his heart pounding, and his breath shaky with all of the weird thoughts and emotions swirling around him. He hears Mondo stumble to his feet, and while his eyes want so desperately to look, he forces himself not to, keeping his eyes on the concrete floor. He is still sitting on the cold ground, but he finds he doesn’t mind it too much, as it is stabilizing in some ways. He sits in the awkward silence that has arisen for a very charged second, before Mondo breaks it soon after.

Mondo mumbles about how he should probably get Taka something to eat, and also some ice, asking him if he has any allergies or preferences or things like that. Taka shakes his head slowly, answering shakily that he doesn’t, and that he is fine with pretty much anything, thanks. Mondo stares at him for a second, before nodding and moving to head to the door. He pauses before he gets too far, his body swaying as he contemplates something. Before Taka can ask if he is alright, Mondo is turning back and muttering that Taka probably shouldn’t be sitting on the floor, asking haltingly if he’d like help moving to the couch before he leaves. Taka blushes, again, and thinks it likely would be wiser to say no, to not allow Mondo to get so close to him again. Besides, it’s not like the floor is that uncomfortable...

But, despite himself entirely, he finds himself nodding as quickly as he can, shaky smile rising on his lips as he stammers that that he would appreciate that, thanks. It makes his stomach clench to see the soft, decidedly pleased smile that rises on Mondo’s face as the biker nods and heads over to him slowly.

Once he’s standing tall over him, he pauses for a moment, seeming to be collecting himself. Taka appreciates this, as it allows him to also collect his own very scattered thoughts. Before he is able to though, Mondo is bending down slowly and is carefully reaching out for Taka, his voice low and muttering as he asks if it’s okay to touch him. Taka blushes yet again at the words (if he ever stopped blushing, of course) and nods once, quickly, smile brighter on his face as he verbally agrees. Mondo smiles brightly back, cheeks also flushed, as he gently moves forward, his hands reaching out to grab Taka. There’s an awkward moment when Taka wonders what Mondo is planning, but Mondo verbalizes his plan before implementing it, mumbling that he’s going to pick Taka up and carry him to the couch, to prevent any of the injuries from getting jolted too badly. This embarrasses Taka, and he stammers that he is pretty heavy, he’s sure he can walk himself, it’s fine.

This makes Mondo smirk, his eyes dancing with humor as the biker claims that he could lift Taka easily, since he routinely deadlifts 90 kilos (roughly 200 pounds), easy. This gives Taka some very inappropriate thoughts, which he forcefully shakes off as he smiles shakily, nodding his agreement with only mild hesitation. Mondo smiles warmly back, before returning to the task at hand, transcribing what he is doing to prevent Taka from freaking out. Taka appreciates it more than he can say, and as such he doesn’t even tense up at all when he feels warm, strong arms wrap around him and lift him gently bridal style, his body pressing wondrously to a warm and highly muscular chest. Taka has some more ~~inappropriate thoughts~~ that he has to firmly stow away as Mondo begins to walk to the couch, the biker so gentle and careful that he doesn’t feel any hint of pain whatsoever.

Being put down also doesn’t hurt, but he finds himself strangely not wanting the biker to let go of him, his heart racing as he feels oddly at home in Mondo’s arms. He reluctantly does let go, though, but he swears that Mondo, too, is letting his hands linger just a touch longer than they should as they slide out from under his body... but surely, he must be imagining things...

Right?

He doesn’t get any time to try and rationalize anything before Mondo is standing again, body angling to turn away. Before he leaves, though, he hesitates, and then... then he darts his hand out to trail gently across Taka’s forehead, tenderly brushing back the hair that has fallen messily into his eyes. Cheeks permanently stained red, he watches as Mondo stammers out a quick goodbye, promising that he’ll be right back and that no one else will dare enter the room, indicating that he will be safe here. His hand is still lingering along his cheek, though, which makes it very challenging for Taka to think.

But then the hand is gone, and Mondo is hastily exiting the room, gait awkward. Taka finds it strange that such a fearsome biker gang leader would ever act so awkward and fumbling, but he finds it strangely... cute. Which is definitely a word he’d never have thought to apply to a biker, but there they are!

As Taka sits alone by himself in the room, he wonders yet again what will happen next. Where this all will lead. If it will lead anywhere good, or if his trusting nature will be taken advantage of yet again.

He supposes only time will tell...

~

Mondo is freaking out. Like, full on internal panic, worse even than when he first realized he likes dudes as well as chicks. And it’s all that godd*mn kid’s fault.

If he had felt interested when he first saw the boy’s photo, he is full on infatuated now. He doesn’t even really know why, since Taka (as the boy had earnestly told him he could call him, good god) is definitely not his usual type. Not to mention it’s been less than an hour. But he’s just so... good. Kind. Nice. Things like that. Like... sh*t. Even after being beaten to an inch of his life and starved for almost two days, he still tried to console Mondo for feeling bad about it. Like... what the f*ck?! Who the hell does that?!

He’s also cute as all hell... the blush that seems permanently on his face is slowly driving Mondo insane, he swears to Christ. And his smile... d*mn, it’s so adorable! It should be a crime to be that adorable, Mondo swears.

The worst part of it all is that there is no universe in which Mondo would ever have a chance with the kid. Even discounting the fact that it’s entirely his fault the kid is in this situation, no matter what Taka may say, there’s also the fact that Mondo is literally a criminal. One that the kid’s father has made it his life’s mission to see rot in jail. A worse match could not possibly exist, dear god.

And yet... as he walks silently through his hideout— not quite hiding from his gang, but definitely not wanting to deal with them at the moment— he can’t help the way his heart races at the thought of the boy. Nor can he help how he wishes that- that they could... could...

But it’s stupid. And ridiculous. It would never work. And even if the kid feels anything similar to him at the moment— which is so doubtful, Jesus Christ— it would only be because of sh*t like... Stockholm Syndrome, or whatever it’s called. He’d just be latching onto the first kindness he’s been given after a traumatic event. It’s not real. It... it wouldn’t ever be real.

Mondo could never have something so nice.

Tired of the useless thoughts, Mondo pushes it all aside and enters the kitchen carefully, watchful to see if anyone is inside. When he sees that no one is, he enters easily and heads to the fridge, which is stocked with some party food that was put away after the official party ended earlier. He grabs some small sandwiches and some sushi and rice balls, uncertain what the kid would like. After a couple days without food, Mondo figures he probably should eat light, yeah? There isn’t any soup, but he does make sure to grab some seaweed salad and plain white rice, since that should be light enough if he can’t eat anything heavier. He also grabs some water and some juice, for the dehydration.

Finally, he opens the freezer and grabs a bunch of ice packs, knowing the kid has a ton of places that are injured. It’s too much for him to carry, so he grabs a plastic bag to put it all in, which makes it all easier to handle. As he’s looking in the freezer, he notices some frozen mochi in various flavors, which gives him pause. Before he can talk himself out of it, he’s grabbing it, rationalizing it by saying it can be a peace offering, a better apology than the absolute sh*t ones he’s been giving thus far. And if the kid can’t eat it, well, then he can. He f*cking loves mochi of all kinds, alright? Frozen mochi the best, even if it’s not traditional. It’s why the gang got so much of it.

Shaking off the weirdness inside him, he heads back to his room, still looking out for gang members. He almost gets caught once when some newer members pass by the hallway he is in, but luckily, they don’t see him, so he’s able to get back to his room (and Taka) without any incident.

He does pause for an extended moment outside the room, his heart racing strangely in his chest, in a way it never has before. Mondo has had crushes on people before, on both dudes and chicks, but somehow this feels different. Maybe it’s the situation, maybe it’s something else entirely, but something about the kid makes Mondo feel so much inside. He doesn’t think he’s blushed so much around a single person since he was fourteen and his bro caught him jacking off and refused to stop teasing him about it for weeks. But this feels so very different from then, it’s laughable to compare the two.

But he can’t loiter outside his own room forever, so he takes a deep breath and knocks softly, not wanting to startle the kid without warning, before he enters. As he does, he realizes that he hadn’t bothered to tie the kid up before he left, so he has a moment to panic that the kid had escaped while he’d been out. It would honestly be the most logical thing to do, godd*mn. And... and while he can’t deny the rush of absolute disappointmentat the thought, he realizes he wouldn’t be able to blame the kid if he did use the time to make his escape. After all, it’s not like he owes Mondo anything, dear god. The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that this makes the most sense and— while it does hurt something deep inside him— he resolves to not let it break him when the door fully opens and he doesn’t see the kid.

He is expecting this so much that once the door is fully open and his eyes carelessly dart across the familiar room, he almost doesn’t register that Taka is still sitting on the couch where he’d left him, still as a statue. He blinks owlishly at the kid as Taka turns to face him, his own eyes wide. Heat flares within him when he sees the startled, almost afraidlook on the youthful face morph quickly into a bright and happy smile, the kid greeting him happily. Like... like they’re old friends or something...

It’s only when the kid tilts his head and gives him a questioning look that he realizes he’s been staring for a little too long. His cheeks bright red (like a f*cking schoolgirl, dear god), he hastily enters the room and places the bag down on the coffee table before the couch. He pauses when he hears the kid absently mutter about how plastic bags are bad for the environment, and how Mondo shouldn’t use them. He can’t stop the incredulous look he gives the boy, but Taka doesn’t seem to even notice it, as focused as he is on the contents of the bag.

That jolts Mondo into action as he begins to remove the various foods from the bag, as well as the ice. He leaves the mochi, though. Just... for now, he tells himself.

He explains to the kid that he wasn’t sure what he would like or what he could handle, so he got a bit of everything, to be safe. Taka doesn’t seem upset as he beams at Mondo, thanking him wholeheartedly, saying that while he doesn’t get it often, he loves sushi and that he can stomach sandwiches, though he prefers traditional Japanese food. Mondo awkwardly mentions that he feels the same, but that his brother used to make them sandwiches when they were little, since he wasn’t very good at cooking much else. That leads to Taka to curiously ask why his brother was the one to feed him, which causes Mondo to freeze up.

Taka doesn’t notice, thankfully, since he’s so focused on grabbing the ice and placing it upon the worst of his bruises, before hungrily grabbing some of the rice balls and eating a few, slowly but clearly hungrily. The enthusiastic noises the kid lets out does not help his nerves at all, but it does help calm down the rising panic. He has never liked explaining his family situation to people, but somehow... somehow, he thinks it won’t be so bad to explain it to Taka.

Haltingly, Mondo explains that his ma and da weren’t exactly the best. That his ma was a horrible, neglectful alcoholic and his da was an abusive a**hole. Daiya— his brother, he explains— had been the one to always make sure that Mondo was kept safe and healthy, protecting him from everything, including his own parents. His da left them when he was five and his ma died when he was ten, but Daiya was always there for him, feeding him and ensuring he was kept alive. He even helped with his schoolwork, allowing Mondo to not fail out before middle school. He can feel Taka staring at him, the boy pausing in his eating to watch him with his wide, bright red eyes.

Mondo can sense the question the kid wants to ask, can tell from the intense way he is staring that he wants to ask about Daiya, about what happened to him. Mondo is anticipating it, even if he dreads it, knowing that lying to this boy is going to be hard, but also knowing he has to do it. No one can know the truth about what happened to Daiya, after all. Absolutely no one...

However... despite the fact he knows the kid is thinking about it, Taka just... moves on. He says he’s sorry such a thing happened, voice soft and sympathetic, and then he... he begins talking about himself. His voice is as halting at Mondo’s had been, the boy clearly unsure if he should be sharing this, but he does it anyway. Talking about how his mother had died of pneumonia when he’d been eight, leaving him alone with his grieving father and the endless debt his grandfather had foisted upon them. How things had gotten very hard for them after they lost one working adult, the debt nearly forcing them to lose their minuscule apartment. His voice is soft as he talks about it, his eyes sad with grief plain within them, but there is strength there, too.

It makes Mondo feel sympathy for the boy, knowing sort of what that is like. He also, for the first time, begins to feel some sympathy for Takaaki, realizing that the harsh and driven police chief had gone through more sh*t than he had expected the overbearing man to have. He doesn’t likethe chief, definitely not, but he realizes he can sympathize with him. Just a little.

But that is very much Not something he wants to feel for the man trying to send him to jail for the rest of his life, truthfully. As such, Mondo decides to steer the conversation away from death and past tragedy then, realizing that it’s making him Feel Things he doesn’t really want to, thanks.

Feeling a touch awkward, Mondo strikes up a conversation about some popular movie that literally everyone in Japan has seen. Or... so he thought. Because, apparently, Taka doesn’t watch movies. Or television. Ever.

This gets Mondo started on a long, impassioned rant, questioning how Taka could be almost an adult but hadn’t ever seen a single Disney movie. Or Ghibli! Mondo himself can’t say he’s a huge movie or TV fan, preferring to ride his hog and be outside, but even he will waste time watching a film or show or something.

It’s after about five minutes that Mondo realizes he’s been ranting nonstop, Taka not saying a word. As soon as he realizes this, he stops talking, his face on fire, feeling like a complete and utter moron. Part of him is afraid to look at Taka, but when he hears the boy let out a sound of disappointment, he can’t help how his eyes dart over, his heart freezing at the interested and invested look he finds there. His heart then begins to race when Taka earnestly asks about the movies Mondo was talking about, apparently wanting to know more. He confesses that the reason he never watched TV or movies was that he had thought that they were a waste of time, but that he’s always privately been curious about such things, wondering what makes them so important to so many people.

At Taka’s insistence, Mondo keeps going, talking about the films that he and Daiya would watch when he’d been young, Taka listening intently and even asking questions here and there. The conversation lasts for a while, and Mondo is shocked to realize that almost half an hour has passed while they had talked, Taka having finished eating and drinking a while before. Mondo had even eaten a little, too, since Taka had confessed that he felt weird being the only one to eat.

It’s then that Mondo has the thought that ‘this feels like a f*cking date,’ though he immediately dismisses said thought, knowing how moronic it is. The feeling still lingers, though, getting worse when he watches Taka throw his head back and laugh at something absent Mondo had muttered in his distraction, Taka so emotive it’s not even funny. It makes Mondo want to do everything he can to hear his laugh again, the desire so strong he doesn’t know how to handle it.

It’s as the conversation is winding to a close that he remembers the mochi, his cheeks flushing as he thinks about the dessert he’d brought, doing everything he can to force down the feeling that this is date because it very much is not, good god. Part of him is worried the mochi would have melted, but the room itself is kept fairly cold and the mochi had been frozen solid almost, so he has hope that it will still be somewhat frozen.

With fumbling words, Mondo mentions the dessert as casually as possible, though he knows he fails miserably. But it doesn’t matter at all, not when he sees Taka’s eyes literally light up, excitement bright within them. The boy explains with so much enthusiasm about how much he used to adore mochi, before his grandfather was kicked out of office, and they fell into debt. He says that he rarely gets the treat anymore, not with how expensive and frivolous it is, but that he has never forgotten how much he adored it once upon a time. He also says that his stomach is feeling better, so he thinks he should be able to eat some, if Mondo doesn’t mind.

Mondo just about self-destructs at the adorableness and mutely holds out the bag, offering Taka the ability to pick out whatever flavor he wants. There are a bunch of different ones, mostly traditional flavors like strawberry, mango, green tea and jasmine, but a couple of them are less common, like dragon fruit and kumquat.

He watches— heart beating fast and off tempo— as Taka deliberates carefully for a full-on minute, eyes darting between the choices like if he chooses wrong, the world will end or something. It’s so cute that it takes him that minute to untie his tongue enough to grunt that Taka can have more than one, so he doesn’t have to worry about choosing wrong or anything. His words make Taka blush again (for the hundredth time, Mondo thinks faintly), the kid stammering out his thanks, saying that Mondo is too kind again. Which is utterly hilarious, especially considering why Taka is even here, but by then, Mondo figures it’s best to just... go along with it, really. If it makes Taka feel better...

Taka quickly makes his choice then, grabbing a green tea mochi ice cream, biting into it soon after, letting out a particularly obscenesound as he very vocally enjoys the treat. Mondo is flushed bright red, and his boxers are significantly tighter than they should be by Taka’s second bite, which is almost just as bad as the first, dear god. By the time Taka finishes the relatively small dessert, Mondo is very flustered and regretting every single life choice he has ever made, truly.

Taka unfortunately notices Mondo’s situation and gets concerned, asking if he is alright. As embarrassed as he is, Mondo can’t help how he yells, not wanting to but being unable to stop it. He immediately berates himself when he sees Taka flinch back, his red eyes wide and terrified, the upset clear within him. That, more than anything, reminds Mondo how futile his ridiculous ‘crush’ is. Taka could never see him in any positive light. He just... can’t.

Softening his voice forcefully, he hesitantly explains about how he always yells when he gets nervous, but that he hadn’t meant to sound angry, he isn’t, he swears. He apologizes too, feeling awful that he’d ruined things with his usual nonsense. But, to his complete shock, Taka gets over his fear quickly and is smiling again before he knows it. It’s less enthusiastic than before, but no less beautiful for it.

Taka then says that he understands and doesn’t fault Mondo for it, saying that it’s okay. A slightly awkward silence rises between them before Mondo manages to break it by awkwardly offering Taka another mochi, which Taka takes happily with another bright smile. Mondo does his best to not let it get to him as badly, and only partially fails.

Taka insists that Mondo eat some of the mochi, too, claiming again that he feels awkward being the only one eating, and soon they both are going through the sweet treats Mondo had packed, the ice cream inside the gummy exterior soft and almost melted, but not quite. It is honestly the perfect texture and Mondo can’t help the soft sound of appreciation he lets out as he eats his dessert. He gets distracted when he hears a strangled noise come from the boy across from him. Concerned, Mondo looks up at Taka, worried that he’d have to somehow give the kid the Heimlich, but all he sees is Taka looking bright red, his eyes wide and his mouth partially open. There’s a glazed quality to his eyes, and it takes a moment to understand why the kid is looking at him like that, before it hits him in a wave of embarrassed pleasure.

The kid had been turned on by the noise he’d made while eating the mochi. Holy sh*t!

Face bright red and stomach in twisted knots, Mondo looks at the ground, breathing deeply to try and stop the heat flooding him. His pants are even tighter now, his junk straining against his boxer shorts, and he has to forcibly think of every unsexy thing he can to force it down. It works, but only barely, since Taka is still staring at him with a sort of hungerhe doubts the kid even realizes. Eventually Taka looks away, face red, as he shakily grabs another mochi to eat. Figuring that moving the f*ck on is the best course of action, Mondo does the same, though he’s careful to keep his noises to himself. For… both of their sakes, really.

Soon all the mochi he packed is gone, Taka looking very satisfied as he smiles gently at Mondo, looking for all the world like they are old friends who are just meeting up again, not a captor and captive. The thought makes Mondo feel so incredibly awful and he knows that it’s time for this whole charade to end. He has dressed Taka’s wounds and has fed him and given him water. There is only one thing left for him to do to try and rectify this whole situation. To make up for the pain and suffering Taka has faced at the hands of him and his gang.

He has to let Taka go free.

The thought is far more painful than he can possibly imagine. The idea of letting Taka go and never seeing him again, never speaking to him again, it’s… it’s awful and it hurts so f*cking badly. He has no clue what is going on between him and the kid, but he finds that he strangely likes it. Their dynamic. Their rapport. And he… he finds he doesn’t want to lose that.

But it’s stupid. So utterly, completely stupid. This isn’t real, he tells himself harshly, the mochi in his gut roiling angrily with his emotions. This isn’t real and Taka isn’t here because he wants to be. He’s here because he has to be. Because his gang forced him to be. If it was up to Taka, he’d never have come to this place at all, would never have willingly spent time with a criminal biker gang leader. This isn’t Taka’s world. He doesn’t belong here. He’s a good kid, the kind with hopes and dreams that Mondo will never have. Yeah, he’s sometimes has the thought of going into carpentry, but it’s not like he could ever f*cking do that sh*t. He’s a biker. A criminal. The only future he has is to spend the rest of his life rotting in jail, honestly. There is no retirement for him. He doesn’t get to retire.

This is his life. Biker gangs and violence and anger. He doesn’t deserve anything else. Not after all he has done. Not after all the people he’s hurt. He doesn’t deserve someone like Taka, who is sunshine and brightness, so g*dd*mn beautiful it hurts his eyes. Someone who is forgiving to an absolute fault, willing to let go of his own anger and fear if it just means helping someone else. Even if that someone else hurt them or is responsible for them being hurt. Taka… Taka is good, so incredibly good, and Mondo… Mondo never will be. Good. Not even a little. Not at all.

And so, his heart aching fiercely, he looks at Taka from the corner of his eyes, not strong enough to face him head on for this conversation. And he… he begins to speak.

Voice halting and way too f*cking weak, Mondo mumbles that it’s probably time to get Taka back to his home. He can see Taka whip his head to face him, eyes wide. Mondo can almost pretend he sees disappointmentand pain in those brilliant scarlet eyes, but he forces himself to ignore it. It’s just a trick of the light. Nothing else.

And yet… he can’t quite ignore the disappointment he hears so plainly in Taka’s voice, the kid dejectedly saying that perhaps that is a good idea. Saying that his father might be wondering where he is by now. From the corner of his eyes, he can still see the reluctance on Taka’s face, and it makes Mondo feel so very, very strange inside. Like his insides are rebelling against him or something. He tries to push it down, standing and making his way over to his dresser to grab his keys, but… but he can’t quite manage it.

When he returns to Taka, he asks softly if the kid thinks he’d be able to handle riding on his hog, or if he should try and grab the van that they use for various events out. He says it will be harder to grab the van unnoticed— since it’s parked in the lot where the rest of the gang stores their rides, while Mondo keeps his baby in a private garage— but that he will do that if it makes Taka feel safer.

Taka is just staring at him with wide eyes, his hands shaking a little, and it concerns Mondo greatly. He’s about to stammer something out, maybe even offering to call Taka a cab, but then… then the kid is nodding slowly, saying that he thinks he’d be able to handle a ride on a motorcycle. Mondo finds the way Taka says ‘motorcycle’ unreasonably adorable and has to squash down his rising emotions to nod slowly in return. But then Taka is continuing, asking anxiously if Mondo has a helmet and safety gear that Taka can borrow, since he knows how unsafe motorcycles are and he wouldn’t want to get hurt in case of a crash.

It makes Mondo snort, a smirk on his face that he hopes disguises the roiling in his gut at such a thought, and mutters how he wouldn’t crash, he’s been doing this since he was practically in diapers, he knows how to ride a hog, sh*t. The look Taka gives him is mildly disapproving as the kid reprimands him, saying that even still, it’s always good to be prepared. Past good experiences don’t preclude a future bad one, Taka explains seriously. It’s so cute that Mondo has to physically hide his face to prevent the kid from seeing the almost smitten look he knows is currently rising on his face. He doesn’t know why he’s so smitten with Taka after such a short amount of time, but dear god, he is.

But he moves on and considers the kid’s request. He furrows his brow as he thinks about it, wondering if they do have any protective gear in the hideout. None of his gang really bothers with that sh*t, but… well. He thinks that maybe… if he looks…

Mondo moves absently over to an old storage box he keeps in the corner of the room, knowing that he used to have an old helmet he used when he first started out, Daiya insisting on it despite Mondo’s displeasure. He thinks he shoved it in the storage box after Daiya- y-you know. He doesn’t know if it’ll fit the kid, but it may. Taka is smaller than him, so maybe the helmet he wore as a kid would fit. If he can f*cking find it, that is…

He can feel Taka’s curious eyes on him as he looks, but he ignores it as he pretty much tears the storage container apart without any care. Finally, as he reaches the bottom, he finds the old thing, letting out a noise of triumph as he holds it up like a prize, grinning back at Taka happily. Taka has a dazed look on his face, but he quickly snaps out of it, looking at the mess Mondo made with disapproval.

To Mondo’s complete and total shock, Taka stands then and heads to the mess, tutting as he claims it’s not a good idea to leave such a mess lying around. Mondo is stunned silent for a second as Taka approaches, but he finds his tongue when he watches the kid kneel down and begin putting Mondo’s things away, a lot more organized and careful than Mondo ever has been.

Confused, Mondo says that it’s fine, that he can just shove the things back into the box later once he gets back, to Taka’s obvious disgust. With an adorably haughty and almost pretentious look on his face, Taka explains that shoving things away in a box is not cleaning, thank you very much. Cleaning is a subtle and soothing task, the kid continues to explain, so ridiculously serious.

Unable to help it, Mondo lets out a huge laugh, so loud and boisterous his stomach aches with it, his heart fluttering awkwardly in his chest. He doesn’t usually laugh this hard, not since Daiya- well. He watches with his churning insides as Taka halts in his organized cleaning, his eyes wide and his cheeks flushed again as he looks at him, his mouth opening on a silent gasp. He looks dazed, but not in a bad way, and it’s doing some seriously funny things to his insides, Jesus Christ.

Taka eventually looks away, face now red, and goes back to cleaning. He winced a little, though, reminding Mondo of Taka’s injuries. Feeling guilty but knowing Taka won’t give up, Mondo kneels down beside him and begins to help with the cleaning. He even folds the clothes the way Taka does, though a lot clumsier and less neat. It still makes Taka beam at him, his eyes practically sparkling, so he supposes he’s doing something right.

They finish cleaning after about ten minutes, Taka looking highly satisfied with the newly organized box. He explains to Mondo shyly that he has always found comfort in cleaning, saying that it gave him control as a child that he often didn’t have. Mondo can understand that to some extent since he feels the same way about riding his hog. Mondo accidentally says that aloud, his cheeks flushing again with his unintended confession.

Taka doesn’t judge him, though. He just hums softly, a thoughtful look on his face as he leans back from his kneeling position to sit on his knees. And then… then he’s looking at Mondo curiously, an oddly nervous look on his face. Mondo wonders why he looks nervous, but learns a moment later, his body freezing as he hears Taka ask hesitantly why Mondo chose to join a gang in the first place. Why he decided to go down this path.

The question makes Mondo feel defensive, his anger rising with his discomfort. He’s had people ask him that before, mainly cops when he’d get caught as a kid, and he’s always hated being asked it. It reminds him, though, that Taka is the son of the police chief, and his chest goes cold as he wonders if Taka will be telling his father all about this conversation. He wouldn’t blame him, god he wouldn’t, but it makes him feel cold and aching and f*cking sad, and he doesn’t know how to handle that, he really doesn’t.

Luckily, before he can say anything that he’ll regret, Taka begins talking again, his words fast and frantic, his eyes wide as he takes in Mondo’s mounting anger and upset. Taka explains that he didn’t mean it negatively, but that he was just curious as to what made him choose this lifestyle. He says that his father has always been disparaging of such choices, but that he, himself, has always been curious about it. What makes someone go down such a path. Taka also shyly says that he doesn’t really see how Mondo could be that bad, since he’s been so kind to him since he got here. It makes Mondo feel like utter sh*t.

Looking away from Taka, Mondo considers the question more rationally, his stomach still clenching, but not angrily. While he hates talking about himself in such a way, he again finds that it… it’s not so bad. Not when it’s Taka he’s telling. Plus, he… he’s gotta clear up the clear misconceptions the kid is having about him. Because he is ‘that bad’. He most definitely is.

Faltering again, Mondo explains that Daiya had started the gang up when he’d been about nine and Daiya had been fifteen, as a way to make money and to give them independence. Daiya had been working in a different gang for several years before that, ever since their father left and they were pretty much on their own money wise, but it wasn’t until Daiya started The Crazy Diamonds that Mondo joined, too. He’d always loved riding with his brother on his hog, he explains fondly, but the gang stuff didn’t come until later.

Joining the gang had felt right to him, he continues, voice slower and less confident. He’d always had trouble controlling his anger, so being in a gang helped since he could get his anger out in some way. He admits sheepishly that he knows it’s not the best way he can handle the rage inside him, but that he doesn’t know what else to do. Besides. He’s the leader of his gang now and he can’t stop that. He just… can’t.

Part of him expects Taka to question him about that, but to his relief Taka doesn’t. Instead, Taka just hums softly, nodding with understanding. And then… then he asks softly if Mondo had ever considered leaving the gang. If he ever had any plans that didn’t relate to being a gangster.

Again, Mondo feels himself stiffen up, his discomfort and anger rising. It’s easier to push down this time, though, more so since he can see the earnestness on Taka’s face and he knows the kid doesn’t mean to be accusatory or judging, but that he’s honestly just… curious. Like he truly wants to know. It’s… refreshing, quite honestly.

And so… even though he knows he shouldn’t, knows it’s wrong, he… he confesses that yeah. Yeah, he has. A lot recently, if he’s being fully honest. The honesty makes him squirm, and before he can stop himself, he’s mentioning his absent and stupid as f*ck ideas of becoming a carpenter, of all things. He hurriedly says that he knows he never could, that he barely knows anything about woodworking and that he’d never actually get a job as a carpenter, not with his record. Despite himself, his throat gets thick while saying it and he has to swallow forcefully to try and get the emotion down. He jolts harshly when he feels a tentative hand touch his, his eyes wide as he meets wide red ones.

Quietly, Taka says that he doesn’t think that. That, with hard work and effort, anything is possible. He claims that if Mondo wants to… if he truly wants to become a carpenter and leave his life as a gangster behind… well. Then Taka is positive that he could do it. That Taka believes in him fully. And the strangest thing is… Mondo actually believes that he’s telling the truth.

It’s immediately overwhelming and Mondo has to force down the rush of emotion, breathing deeply to push it all aside. Taka is still looking at him with kindness and it’s too much. Standing abruptly, Mondo grunts that they should get out of there, that they’ve wasted enough time, Taka scrambling to stand soon after. Mondo hands the kid the helmet that started this whole mess and tells him to try it on, which Taka does without a word. The fit is a bit snug, but it should keep Taka safe should anything happen, Mondo thinks.

Taka removes the helmet once he’s done trying it on, his hair sticking straight up adorably once it’s off. It makes Mondo smile, but he quickly looks away before Taka can see. Clearing his throat, he tells Taka to follow close behind him and do as he said, privately hoping that they won’t get caught by anyone, but knowing that the risk is there. It’s been hours since he was left alone with Taka, and he has a feeling his gang is going to be curious about how their ‘meeting’ went. He has no illusions as to what his gang will be assuming they’ve been doing in here so long, though the thought of it disgusts him greatly. Despite all his faults and failings, he is proud to say he would never, ever force himself on someone else. The one time he slept with a woman was consensual, thank you very much, as have been the various other times he’s fooled around with people.

Besides… Taka is such a straight lace looking dude that he doubts he’d ever sleep with someone without knowing them very well first, maybe not even until marriage, even if he clearly feels some measure of attraction towards dudes, and—

Mondo cuts those thoughts off quickly, knowing that it’s useless to dwell on it. Fact is, he’s just a captor to Taka, even if the kid seems to think higher of him than he should. Once he sets Taka free, he probably won’t ever see him again. And that… is that.

Taka agrees to Mondo’s terms, reminding him that they are supposed to be leaving now. With a soft sigh, he gestures for Taka to follow him, heading to the door, reluctance stupidly high within him. It’s as he’s reaching for the door handle that he hears Taka call out to him, his voice confused. When Mondo turns back to face the kid with a raised eyebrow, he sees a confused frown (pout, really, but Mondo doesn’t think about that, not at all) on Taka’s face, which is kind of concerning…

Mondo then freezes when Taka speaks, the kid asking hesitantly if he should have the blindfold put back on if they’re going to be wandering through the hideout. Because, to be perfectly honest… he’d forgotten the kid is the son of the police chief. Again. Despite being reminded of it only a handful of minutes before. Jesus Christ…

However… as he looks at Taka and sees the small frown he’s still wearing, clearly not happy at the idea of wearing the blindfold but willing to do it if Mondo asks, he… he realizes he doesn’t want to force the kid to wear it again. Yeah, it’s stupid. This has been one of his favorite hideouts over the years, the one he’s kept most of his personal items in, and letting an outsider see the interior, let alone the son of a police chief is… reckless. Stupid, honestly.

But as he looks at Taka… painfully honest and open Taka… he thinks that maybe he can trust the kid. And that’s stupid too, since for all he knows maybe Taka is just a ridiculously good actor and has been playing him this entire g*dd*mn time, but… he doesn’t think so. He’s got a pretty good bullsh*t detector and it’s not gone off once around Taka. So maybe… maybe…

And even if Taka does rat them out and tells his father all about their hideout and where it’s located… maybe they’d deserve it. For what they all collectively did to the poor kid… the torture and starvation and terror they put him through… maybe it would only be right.

Regardless of how ridiculous it is, Mondo just shrugs tightly and tells Taka that it’s fine. That it doesn’t matter. He can see shock on the kid’s face, as well as a small measure of pleasure, which he does his hardest to not think on, god. Taka nods hesitantly, the small smile widening as he realizes Mondo is being serious. Since that just about shorts Mondo’s brain out again, he turns back to the door and focuses on finally getting Taka out of this dump.

Silent as mice, Mondo leads Taka through the catacomb of hallways and rooms, footsteps silent as he peeks around corners for signs of his gang before leading them down those paths. It feels hella weird to be sneaking around his own g*dd*mn place, but he doesn’t focus on it. He does notice that the kid is fairly silent too, even his footsteps barely making a sound on the concrete. It’s then that Mondo realizes that Taka isn’t wearing shoes, but by that point it’s not like he can fix that, so he puts it out of his mind and focuses on sneaking again.

Luckily, they manage to make it to Mondo’s private garage without any problems, Mondo letting out a sigh of relief as they enter the relatively large space. The only people allowed in this garage are him and his elite guard, but the guard isn’t allowed to enter without his permission. If someone were to enter now and see them, he’d have grounds to pretty much kick them out of the gang. After all, it’s not like he’s doing anything bad. He’s the g*dd*mn leader, for Christ’s sake. If he wants to take his captive around on his hog after leading them through the hideout without a blindfold, he’s f*cking allowed. It’s just… easier if they didn’t have to deal with all that at the moment, is all.

As he approaches his pride and joy, he sees Taka shuffling awkwardly by the entrance of the garage, fiddling with the helmet he’s still holding. He has a look of discomfort on his face and Mondo finds himself concerned despite himself. Forcing his voice to go as soft as it’s able, he asks the kid if he’s alright. If he needs anything first. Taka looks up at him with wide eyes at that, before shaking his head slowly.

Taka replies haltingly that no, he’s fine, he’s just nervous at the thought of riding on the ‘bike,’ as he calls it. He then mentions that he rarely, if ever, does anything risky, and that riding a ‘bike’ is very risky.

While normally Mondo would be pissed at hearing someone say such a thing about riding a hog, let alone calling his baby a ‘bike’ like a f*cking nerd, he finds Taka’s nerves kind of endearing. Trying to force down his smile, Mondo shrugs and mentions how he gets it, but reiterates that Taka has nothing to worry about. He’s been riding a hog alone since he was ten, after all, long before he had his official license, and he is an expert at driving it. He makes a joke about being the Ultimate at the action, which makes Taka smile faintly.

Taka goes quiet then, clearly thinking things over. After a minute, Taka nods decisively and says that he trusts Mondo, and that he will ride the ‘bike,’ putting the helmet on clumsily. The unexpected trust floors Mondo, and he finds himself unable to make the snarky comment about it being called a ‘hog,’ not a ‘bike,’ like he had planned on.

Instead, he just awkwardly clears his throat and heads for his baby, getting on fluidly. He gestures for Taka to get on too, which he does after a moment’s hesitation. It takes a couple false starts, but soon they both are mounted on the hog, Mondo instructing Taka to hold on as tight as he can, which Taka immediately does without question. Mondo is once again floored by how much trust Taka is putting into him, but he tries not to focus on it, knowing that he needs to focus.

Before leaving, he asks Taka where to drop him off, knowing a location would probably be good. And then, to his absolute shock, Taka tells him his home address. And Mondo knows that the kid understands how stupid this is, since Taka even jokingly says that he knows he probably shouldn’t be telling Mondo his address, but that he knows Mondo won’t do anything with it. His trust is once again overwhelming to Mondo, and he decides then and there to never break it. He may be a monster and a criminal, but somehow, he feels that breaking Taka’s trust would be the absolute worst thing he could ever, ever do.

Pushing down the swell of emotions, he sets off to the address given, warning Taka before he does. The kid still screams, though it is thankfully muffled by the helmet somewhat. But Mondo doesn’t care if his gang realizes what he’s doing now. They’d learn eventually and Mondo will handle it later. Later, when Taka is safely at home and Mondo can convince his gang to never, ever go after the kid again. And maybe… maybe provide a detail for him to ensure his continued safety once he gets home… after all, if he’s so foolish as to actually trust a monster like Mondo despite everything that was done to him, and despite having a police officer as a dad… well. Clearly, this kid needs protecting.

He pushes that all down yet again as he drives on, figuring the drive will take roughly twenty minutes given city traffic. He distantly allows himself to enjoy the feel of Taka’s arms around him, reveling in the sensation, but he doesn’t allow his mind to focus on it too long, for obvious reasons. It’s still nice, though. Very, very nice.

But it’s not meant to last. And before long, they are in front of a worn-down old apartment, one that even Mondo eyes critically. Taka doesn’t seem to notice his disdain and just smiles brightly at Mondo, saying that he is very grateful to him for his assistance, even going so far as to call Mondo a ‘good friend.’ Mondo can only stare with wide eyes at Taka, which clearly makes the kid nervous, as he begins to stammer that he hopes he isn’t overstepping his bounds and that he’s sorry if he had offended. Making it sound like Mondo is the one who should be offended at having Takaas a friend.

Which is… so wrong Mondo doesn’t have enough hours in a day to point it all out, so he just shakes his head quickly and states that he’d be f*cking honored to have Taka as a friend, if the kid wants him. The words make Taka beam, so bright it takes his breath away, his nod frantic once more. He also says he would like that very much, so earnest Mondo wonders if he died and this is some strange version of heaven. But like hell would he ever get into heaven after all the sh*t he’s done, so he curbs that thought. Still… it is very nice…

And still not real. That thought douses Mondo into ice cold reality, knowing that once Taka has some time to think things through and work through the trauma, he’ll want nothing to do with Mondo. Ever. Yes, he may think them friends now, but… it won’t last. Mondo has to remember that. He truly does, or else this is going to hurt so much worse than it already does…

Still. Despite that. Despite what he knows will happen and that he should avoid Taka and all thoughts about him. Despite it all. Mondo… Mondo can’t help but pull out a scrap of paper from his pocket, grabbing a pen he keeps in his side storage of his hog, and writing down his number shakily on the stained and frayed paper. Stomach alive with butterflies, he thrusts the paper towards Taka, muttering that if he ever has need of help, or if he just needs someone to talk to, he can call Mondo. And while Mondo doesn’t say it, he privately knows that he just gave Taka his personal, private number, not the number he uses for ‘business.’ Only the elite guard have his personal number. And now Taka. And now… Taka.

He feels a shot of pain shoot through him when he sees Taka’s reluctant look as he stares at the messy scrawl, thinking he f*cked this up and now Taka is mad, but then… then Taka mutters awkwardly that he doesn’t have a phone, cheeks bright red. At Mondo’s incredulous stare, he hastily explains that while his apartment does have a landline, since his father likes having a backup in case his cellphone breaks, Taka wouldn’t be able to call Mondo using it since his father checks the phone history as a precaution. And he doesn’t have a cell phone since he’s never really needed one, he’s felt. What gets Mondo the most, though, is how regretful Taka sounds while saying it, like he… like he truly is unhappy that he doesn’t have a reliable way of contacting Mondo. And while he makes sure to tell himself that this isn’t real a thousand more times, he truly wishes that it could be. That Taka truly does feel regret at not being able to talk to him again.

Perhaps it’s that that has him say it, perhaps it something else entirely, but he finds himself blurting out that Taka should still keep the number so he could call if there is an emergency, and he desperately needs someone. Mondo promises, solemn and full of grave intensity, that if Taka ever needs him, he will drop everything and be there. No matter what the need is, he stresses, needing Taka to know how serious he is. And… judging by the bright blush and the dazed look that has returned to Taka’s face… Mondo thinks the kid does.

After that, Mondo knows it’s time to go, knowing that hanging around outside the home of the police chief— chatting with the man’s clearly beaten son— is a recipe for disaster. Still, Mondo doesn’t want to leave, doesn’t want to go back to a world that Taka isn’t a part of. He knows how stupid the thought is, but as he looks into Taka’s bright red, comforting eyes… he knows that if he leaves here, he’ll be leaving behind something truly special. Something he’s been missing for years. Something… something good. Truly and fully good.

But he can’t stay. He doesn’t deserve someone like Taka, and none of this is real, besides. Taka will come out of his shock eventually and realize the error of his ways. And Mondo… Mondo deserves that. He truly, truly does.

And so… despite how much it hurts… despite the fact that he wants so desperately to never leave this perfect and stupidly trusting kid’s side… Mondo forces himself away.

With a tight smile that absolutely does not hide the pain he’s feeling, Mondo absently raises his hand in goodbye and makes his way back to his baby, claiming that he’ll see Taka around sometime, though he absolutely does not believe it. Not unless Taka is there when his father comes to arrest Mondo and his gang, that is. He doesn’t expect Taka to reply anything more than a shaky goodbye in return, maybe sounding a bit regretful like earlier, but nothing special.

That’s why he’s absolutely shocked when he feels a cool hand wrap around his wrist, not tight but firm. Mondo wheels around in shock, eyes wide as he meets Taka’s wide and yet determined ones. He listens with a distracted ear as Taka says that this entire experience has been terrifying and frightening in many, many ways, but that he does not regret meeting Mondo, as meeting him has probably been one of the best experiences of his life. He sounds so earnest and truthful that— for a moment— Mondo almost forgets that it’s not real and almost believes that he could deserve this. And then he… he can only watch, heart pounding out of his chest, when… when Taka leans forward and… a-and…

Kisses his cheek…

Cheeks on fire, Mondo dumbly watches Taka hastily back away, feeling bereft as the kid’s hand leaves his wrist, absolutely dumbfounded and maybe a little turned on. It doesn’t help that Taka’s face is bright red again, and that there’s a small, somewhat pleased looking smile as Taka says lowly that he hopes they will meet again one day, as he would truly hate to never see Mondo again. And Mondo— brain offline and mouth moving without his consent— says that if Taka uses that number, he will.

With that exchange said, Mondo knows it’s time to leave before he spontaneously combusts. He knows that he is well and truly f*cked, so gone for Taka that it’s kind of pathetic, like a grade schooler with his first crush. It should embarrass the hell out of him that he’s acting so foolish for someone he’s known less than half a day.

But as he finally mounts his hog and looks over his shoulder at Taka, seeing the sad smile on his lips and his hand raised in a final goodbye… he realizes it doesn’t. Embarrass him. Like hell would anything have ever worked out between them, their worlds are much too different, but… it was nice, for one evening, to pretend.

He raises his hand in a final farewell, grinning widely at the enchanting kid he had the absolute fortune to meet, and then he’s gone. Driving a bit faster than the speed limit, Mondo peels out of the small parking lot and onto the city streets, heart aching as he leaves the kid behind.

And as he heads back to his hideout, knowing he’ll have to explain to the guys what happened… he has a small hope that he can’t crush, no matter what, that maybe… maybe Taka will call someday. That this— whatever this is— was real. That it wasn’t only him who felt the connection.

It’s ridiculous. And stupid. And absurd.

And yet…

And yet.

~~~ (time skip!)

More than two months have passed since that day in the gang hideout, and yet Taka has forgotten nothing of the encounter. He hasn’t forgotten the pain or the fear, and his nose only just stopped hurting a few weeks ago, but he… he definitely hasn’t forgotten the rest, either. Meeting Mondo. Talking to him. The weird fluttering in his chest whenever they spoke. The desire he’d felt when Mondo had looked at him. The yearning inside that only grew brighter and brighter as the minutes passed. No… no, he’s not forgotten anything.

Nor does he want to. While he can concede that the kidnapping and the torture were not at all something he enjoyed or would ever want to do again, he can’t deny that he doesn’t regret meeting Mondo. Doesn’t regret their conversations, or the gentleness and trust Mondo showed towards him. He doesn’t regret it one bit.

After Mondo had left him outside his apartment, Taka had stood there in a daze for what felt like hours, his lips tingling with the phantom sensation of rough stubble underneath them, mind racing with thoughts and feelings. He’d been exhausted, since he’d not had a good night’s rest in days, but he’d not been able to force himself from that spot for a very long time.

Eventually he had shaken himself out of it and had climbed the stairs to his and his father’s shared apartment, stopping at the front door abruptly when he realized that he didn’t have his keys anymore. One of his kidnappers had taken it with his clothes earlier that day, so he’d been stuck standing outside his apartment, the night air a bit chilly around him.

His father had eventually arrived home from work, his eyes widening immediately upon seeing Taka’s ragged state. He’d started to ask Taka a million questions about what happened, but Taka had tiredly asked if they could just enter the apartment and he could tell his father later, as he was very tired. His father had stared at him with intense concern for a minute, before hurrying him inside, saying that they would be talking about this once Taka woke. Taka had absently agreed and headed straight for his small bedroom, passing out the second his head hit the pillow, despite all the aches and pains he had been feeling.

Morning was better, thankfully, and he’d stumbled out of bed with a tentative plan of action. His father was still home despite how he usually would have been gone by the time Taka awoke. When he asked, the man said that he called out that day, since he needed to ensure that Taka was okay. It made him feel a swell of affection for his father, but he knew he couldn’t tell the man the truth. While part of him wondered why, since he barely knew the man, he knew he couldn’t betray Mondo. Not after all he’d done for him.

And so, he’d told his father that he’d fallen down some stairs, which had led to his disheveled state. He inferred from the way his father spoke the night before that the man hadn’t noticed his three-day absence, which Taka understood. With his busy work schedule, it wouldn’t have surprised him if his father hadn’t even come home at all during those days, maybe even sleeping in his office at the precinct like he’s done numerous times before. So, all he had to do was come up with an explanation for the injuries and not the missing time.

He could tell that his father didn’t believe him, as the man kept asking more and more questions, but while Taka is usually a horrid liar, he’d been adamant this time. He fell down some stairs, causing him to break his nose and bruise his ribs. It was a plausible story, a simple one, and eventually his father begrudgingly accepted it. He knows his father still didn’t believe him, but Taka can be very stubborn when he wants to be, so he figures his father just accepted it for both of their peace of mind.

He had been very anxious about having to explain to his father how he’d lost not only his clothes and shoes, but his keys, bag, wallet, and all of his other daily possessions, knowing that saying such a thing would only immediately bring the suspicion back, though he knew he’d have to eventually. However, he’d not had to worry about that long, as that problem had been solved the very next day.

Taka had been on his way back from the library— where he had a part time job for the break— wearing an old pair of dress shoes since his boots were MIA, when he’d seen a fairly large package sitting on his welcome mat that was addressed to him. Confused, he’d brought the thing inside and entered his room, where he immediately set about opening the box curiously. He’d never had a package addressed to him before, so it was honestly a little exciting.

And then he’d felt his heart stutter in his chest when he’d seen all of his things neatly placed inside, even his wallet (with more yen inside than he’d left it, he later realized), keys, and clothes. The clothes had even been freshly laundered— the stains and tears mended too— and his boots had been shined. It had overwhelmed him for a minute, tears falling down his cheeks as he touched the things he’d thought were lost forever, the few personal items he had to his name.

It was then that he’d noticed the note tucked in the bottom of the box, almost like whoever placed it there didn’t want it to be found. But it had been, and the words written inside…

‘Thought you’d like your things back. Take care.’

That was it. No signature, nothing. But Taka had immediately recognized the writing as the same as the one on the piece of paper he had stored inside the box that he keeps his most treasured possessions. And he knew exactly who had brought him his belongings back. It had been a bit more overwhelming than he’d care to admit.

With that crisis solved, Taka had focused on getting back into the swing of his everyday life. While his father may not have noticed his absence, his boss and coworkers had, and to his surprise they were all worried about him when they saw his bruises and broken nose.

He’d quickly told them the same thing he told his father, claiming to his boss that he was sorry he’d not called and informed her of his absence, but that he’d been doing his best to heal and hadn’t thought to make the call. The elderly woman had immediately told him it was fine and that he didn’t have to worry about it, even offering to give him the rest of the week off— paid— so he can take care of himself and heal properly. That had also been overwhelming, and he’d had to fight back tears as he explained that he wanted to work, since he hates inactivity. It had taken a little convincing, but she’d agreed to let him work, though she kept a close eye on him for weeks after, still watching even after the worst of his wounds healed.

The days had been hard, though, and the nights even harder. Even after his body stopped aching so badly, he couldn’t help but prod at the pain in his mind. And he doesn’t even mean the pain of having pretty much been tortured and starved for two days. But… the pain of being away from Mondo.

Taka isn’t stupid. Right? Even while it had all been occurring, Taka had wondered if what he was feeling was real. If he actually cared so much about this ragged biker that he’d met under the worst of circumstances mere hours before. It had all seemed so farfetched and fantastical to him that part of him had been waiting the entire time for the other shoe to drop. For Mondo to suddenly yell ‘ha! Gotcha!’ and change on a dime. He doesn’t know why he’d told the biker his home address knowing how stupid it was, but he’d felt so tired and so alone at that moment that he hadn’t even seriously considered the danger involved in telling Mondo his home. Where he and his father— the chief of police— lived.

He’d realized it later, though. The next day, his heart and mind racing with every that had happened. And despite the buoyancy he still felt when he thought of the biker gang leader, he’d also felt trepidation and a hint of fear at the thought of Mondo using the information against him, spending the entire first day panicking silently to himself. And part of the next day.

But then he’d gotten the package. And then a week passed. And then two. And then a month. And then a second month. And at no point at all did Taka face any possible retaliation from Mondo. No hint of gangs loitering around his apartment or harassing his father. Nothing.

Well… not nothing, actually. Because sometimes… sometimes, on odd days, there would be a package left at his front door addressed to him, with no return label. He’d bring the box to his room with a racing heart and open it, finding a random assortment of goods each time. Sometimes they were sweets, like fine chocolate or assorted traditional mochi with sweet and savory fillings. Other times they’d be practical items, such as a fancy notebook or a nice fountain pen. And sometimes… sometimes, there would be DVDs in the box, for movies he’d always heard about but never seen. Receipts would accompany each box, proving the items were paid for Taka assumes, though there would never be a note, no matter how hard Taka looked. And oh, how he looked.

He knows who sends the boxes, though. Of course he does. He’s never had anyone who would send him things, and given that there’s no return address or stamps, he knows the boxes were delivered in person. Plus, they always mysteriously arrived on days he would get home from work before his father, though that’s a little less impressive considering how often such a thing is the case. And finally… the writing on the box is the same as from the note and from the phone number. Which is the most damning evidence, really.

Part of him thinks that he should find it creepy that a criminal biker is sending him gifts, but strangely, he doesn’t. Especially not when he remembers Mondo’s muttered comment after Taka had remarked that he had never been given a gift before. Instead it just makes him feel… warm. And remembered. And appreciated.

It also reminds him of the number Mondo had given him, which he has long since memorized. It makes his heart pound to think of, recalling the moment he’d been given the number with complete clarity. Part of him longs to call just to hear Mondo’s voice and talk to him again, but part of him is afraid to do that. What if… what if Mondo doesn’t want that? Or if he gets annoyed at Taka calling for a non-emergency, even if Mondo had told him he could? Or if it turns out it has all been a big hoax and Mondo doesn’t actually want to be friends with him? While the gifts say otherwise, his lifelong rejection from every possible friend says yes.

So, he hasn’t. Called. Every time he’s headed to the pay phone at the end of the street, intent on calling, he’d get nervous and chicken out. This has happened no less than twenty times, with it once happening twice in one day. Taka wants to call, truly he does! He’s just… scared.

But today. Today, he has decided that no matter what… he will call. Even if Mondo doesn’t pick up, or if he doesn’t respond, or if he rejects him… he has to call today.

It’s his 20th birthday, after all. And while his father had planned on doing something special today, taking Taka out to a restaurant they could only barely afford, the man had unfortunately been called into work for an emergency. Leaving Taka alone in his room, his chest aching fiercely with loneliness. He doesn’t blame his father for leaving, no! But… it hurts sitting in this room alone, thinking so desperately of one person, fearing rejection but thinking that just this once… the potential reward would be worth the risk.

It’s still hard for him to force his legs to move. To stand up, hold his weight, and make the trip to the nearest pay phone. His heart races at just the thought of it, but he knows he’s being ridiculous. He is not a quitter and he’s never run from anything in his life. Yes, perhaps Mondo will reject him, but… he has to at least try.

After about half an hour of useless deliberation, Taka is finally able to force himself to stand and march out of his apartment. His legs are shaking horribly, the shaking getting worse and worse the closer he gets to the pay phone, but he refuses to stop.

Finally, he reaches the pay phone and hesitates only a second before he’s putting his yen in and dialing the number he’s long since memorized. His heart is racing fast as he hears the phone ring, his mind blank. Part of him wishes that Mondo won’t answer, so that he can just leave a message and leave it at that.

But that hope is dashed when he hears someone pick up the phone, and then a familiar voice is sounding, though Taka is far too tense to comprehend the words said to him. It takes him a moment to realize he’s not taken a breath since he arrived at the pay phone and his lungs are screaming at him in protest. He manages to take a huge inhale of breath, though he’s still feeling very nervous and almost afraid. Not of Mondo, no, no. But… of himself. That he’ll ruin this like he’s always ruined everything. That Mondo will realize how uninteresting and worthless he is and won’t want to talk to him. That… that what happened two months ago was just a fluke, that it wasn’t real, and that Mondo wouldn’t want to get that back.

Finally, after another moment passes, he hears the voice call again, worry thick within it. And Taka is finally able to comprehend what the voice is saying.

“Taka…? Is, uh… is that you? Not many people have this number, so, uh… sh*t. Are ya alright, man? D’ya… d’ya need me ta come get ya or somethin’? ‘Cuz I can if ya want… uh… sh*t, is this Taka? Uh… if ya could say somethin’, that would be, ya know… appreciated…”

That jolts Taka out of his daze and he finds himself stammering out a greeting, his cheeks red again. He hears Mondo let out a small laugh, greeting him with so much unbridled affection that it makes Taka’s chest ache. Before he can force the lump in his throat down, Mondo continues, his voice a lot more serious and concerned as he asks him again if he needs help, if he’s hurt, if he needs Mondo to drive out to him. The questions almost overwhelm Taka, making him feel terrible for worrying the biker for something so simple, so stupid. But he can’t just hang up now, not without worrying Mondo more.

And so, voice trembling, he assures Mondo that no, nothing is wrong, he’s okay and doesn’t need assistance. His throat gets thick again before he can explain his actual reason for calling, forcing him to peter out awkwardly, his heart racing painfully in his chest. He then hears Mondo speak again, his voice soft and soothing as he reassures Taka that it’s okay, he doesn’t have to be nervous, it’s all fine, and Taka can tell him why he called if he wants, but if his reason is that he just wanted to talk, that’s fine too. That almost makes Taka more nervous, but he swallows it down and pushes forward.

Voice still trembling, Taka explains haltingly that it’s his 20th birthday and he has found himself unfortunately alone. His father is working, and he never has had any friends, and he was wondering if Mondo wanted to… to hang out. Or something. Taka gets nervous around then and begins babbling that Mondo doesn’t have to if he doesn’t want to, that he’s okay being alone, he’s been alone most his life so it’s fine. He would hate to impose upon Mondo and if he’s busy he understands completely and he isn’t entirely sure why he called, he hates being a bother, he’s sorry, he-

Mondo cuts him off around then, his voice soft with something almost fond deep in the tone, mixed with something that sounds sad. Mondo says that he’d be honored to spend Taka’s birthday with him, since Taka had helped make his birthday one of the best he’s ever had, and he could only hope to return the favor. The honest words make Taka’s face flush even hotter, his breath shaky and his heart clenched.

Taka shakily agrees and makes plans for Mondo to meet him outside his apartment, since his father isn’t there anyway. Mondo promises that he’ll be there in twenty before hanging up with a warm ‘see ya soon, Taka.’

Taka walks back to his apartment in a daze, and once he gets there, he takes a heavy seat on the front stoop, wringing his hands anxiously. He’s incidentally dressed in the same outfit he’d worn the day he’d been kidnapped, his usual white suit and red tie that he always wears when at university and his internship and doesn’t bother to change out of during break. This suit has numerous stitches in it, and it doesn’t look very professional anymore, but he can’t help but like it regardless. He hadn’t consciously put it on this morning, but… well.

It feels like both a second and a millennium have passed when he hears the unfamiliar roar of a motorcycle pull up before him. His head whips up instantly, heart racing, a gasp escaping his lips when he sees a now familiar person straddling the powerful vehicle.

Scrambling up and over to the bike (he knows Mondo doesn’t like him calling it that, but he dislikes calling it a ‘hog,’ so they’ll just have to agree to disagree), he tries to think of what to say, what to do, but finds himself coming up blank.

Luckily, Mondo breaks the silence by clearing his throat and awkwardly asking what Taka wants to do. Unluckily, Taka has no idea whatsoever. He hadn’t really expected Mondo to actually show up, to be honest, so he isn’t sure what to do now that he’s here. He feels very awkward and regretful as he tells Mondo this, and then he apologizes softly for wasting the biker’s time, sure that Mondo will be mad at him for making him come all this way for nothing.

However… to his absolute shock, Mondo doesn’t get upset. Or even slightly unhappy. Instead, all he does is hum, tilt his head, and ask Taka if he likes going to the park. When Taka stammers that yes, he loves the park, Mondo grins and tilts his head towards his bike, clearly indicating that Taka should get on. Which he then verbalizes, telling Taka that he knows the perfect place for them to go.

Taka is only a little reluctant, not wanting to ride without a helmet (while he’d surprisingly enjoyed the last ride with Mondo, he would never have wanted to do it sans helmet), but to his surprise yet again, Mondo unclips something from his bike and hands it to Taka. It takes him a second to realize it’s a helmet. But he can tell immediately that it’s not the same helmet as the last time. This one is bright red, for one thing, and looks to be a bit bigger. When Taka looks at Mondo in question, the biker sheepishly mentions that he’d gotten Taka a new helmet on the offside chance they ever met up again, this one being a size bigger, which Mondo guessed would fit better.

The idea that Mondo cared enough to get him his own helmet, just for his own comfort flusters Taka greatly, and he feels the stirring in his heart he’d first felt two months ago and hasn’t stopped since. He’s never felt so much for another person before and it’s making him feel very flushed. Especially when he catches sight of the gentle smile Mondo has on his lips, his eyes like liquid silver as he looks at him. It… it’s very nice, though…

After a moment of stunned silence, Taka shakily puts the helmet on, noticing immediately that it fits much, much better. He then carefully gets on the bike behind Mondo, the process a lot easier now that he knows sort of what he’s doing. And now that his ribs aren’t aching fiercely, of course.

Once he’s mounted, Mondo waits a moment while Taka gets comfortable, before telling Taka he’s going to move, Taka nodding his consent. He still feels a bit terrified when the bike begins moving, but at least this time he doesn’t scream like a child. He just holds tight to Mondo, moving his body with the biker’s, both enjoying the ride and also kind of hating it. It does wonders to help calm his nerves about inviting Mondo over to ‘hang out’, though.

They arrive at Mondo’s mystery location about half an hour later, Taka looking eagerly at the decent sized park he’s never been to before. As Mondo parks, Taka looks at the green fields and the groups of families and friends that walk around, enjoying the last day before the school semester starts up again. Taka has never really celebrated his birthday, considering his father’s busy schedule and his perpetual lack of friends. Not to mention how it always occurs the day before the first day of the fall quarter, leaving it a bit forgettable. But as he stands here with Mondo, looking at the busy park before him… for the first time, he almost feels happy it’s his birthday. If only because it gives him the excuse to enjoy Mondo’s highly pleasing company again.

Mondo gently touches Taka’s hand to draw him back to reality, which Taka does with a smile. Mondo begins to chat about random things as they start to move through the park, like he had the previous time, and the conversation feels as easy to Taka now as it did back then, putting him immediately at ease. During the drive, the anxiety and fear Taka had been feeling had waned, and now all he can feel is happiness and brightness, excitement filling him at whatever it is Mondo has planned for them.

They meander through the park for a bit, and at one point Mondo mentions that Daiya used to take him here when he was little, the pair playing and rough housing whilst on the fields. They even brought their late dog— Chuck, an incredibly smart Maltese that Mondo is still adorably fond of, Taka learns— here all the time for his walks.

After a while their wandering takes them past an ice cream stand and Mondo asks Taka if he’d like one. Taka declines with a stammer, insisting that he couldn’t possibly impose on Mondo like that, though he greatly appreciates the offer.

Mondo, though, just snorts and deadpans that it’s really not an issue to buy a ‘f*ckin’ ice cream.’ Taka wrinkles his nose at the vulgarity, but after a bit of back and forth, Mondo finally pointing out it’s literally his birthday, Taka finally concedes and asks for a vanilla ice cream, since it’s his favorite flavor. Something about that makes Mondo laugh, and Taka is afraid at first that he’s laugh at him, a measure of hurt rising within him at the thought. But then he sees the softness in Mondo’s eyes when he looks at him, the gentle tilt to his lips, and Taka realizes that no. Mondo isn’t making fun of him. He just… finds it funny, he supposes.

They reach the front of the line before Mondo can say anything, and Taka just listens as the biker orders himself a chocolate soft serve ice cream with sprinkles, mini gummy bears, and a cherry on top, before he orders Taka the exact same but in vanilla. Seeing Taka’s displeased pout at the biker ordering more than a simple ice cream for him, Mondo smirks and gently nudges Taka’s shoulder with his, saying that Taka should learn to take it easy sometime. Live a little. Enjoy the small things.

“Like vanilla ice cream with sprinkles, mini gummy bears, and a cherry on top?” Taka questions skeptically.

Mondo smiles, bright and happy and clear, taking Taka’s breath away.

“Hell yeah man! Exactly like vanilla ice cream with sprinkles, mini gummy bears, an’ a f*ckin’ cherry on the g*dd*mn top. Now enjoy yer g*dd*mn ice cream, ya g*dd*mn nerd.”

The vender gives them their respective ice creams before Taka can reply back with a witty rejoinder. Though perhaps that’s for the better, because Taka’s brain is currently offline as butterflies erupt in his stomach. During their last encounter, Taka hadn’t been able to escape the nagging thought that— despite the unfortunate circumstances they’d found themselves meeting under— parts of it had felt almost like… well… a date. And it had been ridiculous at the time, they’d barely known one another, and they did have the unfortunate circumstances surrounding their meeting. But still… he’d not been able to push it away no matter how hard he tried.

But now? Right now, holding onto a quickly melting ice cream as Mondo begins talking about his childhood with his brother, detailing how much they always enjoyed getting ice cream and wandering about on a hot summer day like this one? The feeling of this feels like a dateincreases by a tenfold and Taka is left reeling on how to continue on without making a complete fool of himself.

Because… well. He can’t lie to himself. He likes Mondo. A lot. It’s not quite infatuation and definitely not love, but it… it’s the start of something. Something he thinks could be very nice if they let it.

However, he tells himself forcefully, he doesn’t even know if Mondo is into guys that way. And even if he is, there is no guarantee he’d be into Taka specifically. Taka isn’t exactly the easiest person to get along with, he knows. He’s very opinionated and likes things to go his way exactly. And while he’s been trying to not do it with Mondo, he knows that once he gets started, he can talk for hours nonstop about certain topics that interest him, like politics or ethics or morality. And he’s been told so many times that it’s annoying and aggravating, so he just… he knows he’s not an easy person to get close to. Even if the thought hurts. And oh… does it hurt…

During Taka’s distraction, the pair had still been walking, and it isn’t until they arrive that Taka realizes Mondo had had a destination in mind. But as they reach the mid-sized pond that is bracketed by trees with a bridge that goes over it, with koi fish in the water and ducks floating leisurely atop it, Taka is forced to stop his restless worries and focus solely on the beauty before him.

After a minute of awed staring, Taka hears Mondo chuckle warmly, before a warm hand brushes the back of the hand not holding the small amount of ice cream that he still had left. Taka turns to face Mondo then and sees a warm and tender look on the biker’s face, making him look much younger than he usually does. It makes Taka’s heart squeeze to see, the baffling affection nearly overwhelming him. He can only hope his face isn’t completely betraying him, but knowing his luck…

Either way, Mondo doesn’t mention it and instead just places his hand on Taka’s mid-back to direct him towards an empty bench before the pond so they can watch the koi and ducks swim together for a bit. Taka ignores the racing of his heart and smiles shakily as he follows Mondo, his back tingling not unpleasantly.

They sit beside one another on the relatively small bench, so close they’re almost touching, but not quite. It drives Taka up the wall, his skin prickling with goose flesh and shivers each time either of them moves. It’s quiet between them, Mondo happily finishing his ice cream cone as he watches the ducks swim lazily by, and Taka has to admit that it’s nice. Very nice. Nicer than anything else has ever been in his life, save for every limited interaction he’s had with the biker.

It feels too good to be true, honestly. All of it. That someone like Mondo would willingly want to spend time with someone like him. Even discounting his unfortunate habit of being overly blunt and borderline rude at times, he is probably the textbook definition of a ‘goody two-shoes,’ while Mondo is the textbook definition of a ‘bad boy.’ Not that he thinks Mondo is bad! Not at all! Just… his demeanor and profession. The two don’t really seem to have much in common. Even their special interests are divergent, though Taka finds himself strangely captivated by how enthusiastic Mondo is about all of the things he enjoys. But just… why, he has to wonder? Why did he give him his number back then, and why… why did he show up to meet him today? Just… why?

Unable to hold the question in any longer, Taka blurts it out, no decorum at all, and he feels his cheeks flood with his mortification at his lack of social grace. However, Mondo still doesn’t seem to mind. He just hums thoughtfully, clearly mulling it over seriously. That’s another thing Taka really likes about Mondo, he thinks pensively to himself. The biker always seems to take the things Taka says seriously, not dismissing them out of hand as something irrelevant, like so many other people do. It feels… nice. Like he’s actually being seen and heard for once. It’s strange but… but nice.

But then Mondo is talking, his voice musing and contemplative. And Taka… he isn’t really sure what to make of it.

“Huh. Why did I show up? I mean… I dunno, man. Ya called. An’ I said I’d come if ya called, didn’t I? An’ ‘sides. Yer, uh… sh*t, I dunno. Nice ta talk ta or somethin’ like that. Let me f*ckin’ ramble ‘bout random *ss bullsh*t, not seemin’ ta mind. An’…” Mondo pauses here, seeming to collect his thoughts. After a few moments, he continues. “I dunno. You, uh… ya were the first person ta really say ya believed I could actu’ly be a f*ckin’ carpenter… ya know? Never got ‘round ta tellin’ Dai ‘bout that ‘fore he, uh… y-ya know. An’ like hell could I tell that sh*t ta the gang. They’d think I’d gotten weak or somethin’. In fact, think yer the first person I ever told I even was interested in woodwork ta begin with. So… sh*t. I really don’t know, man. Just… s’easy ta talk ta ya, I guess. Kinda f*cked up when ya think ‘bout it, considerin’ how we met an’ all, so I try not ta. Think ‘bout it. An’… an’ if ya like talkin’ ta me, too, then… heh. I dunno. Works out. I guess. ‘Less ya don’t like talkin’ ta me… uh… in which case I can always stop… heh…”

The mumbled words make Taka’s chest ache even more then, and tears start to fill his eyes despite himself. This worries Mondo a lot and the biker immediately starts back tracking and trying to rectify things. Taka cuts him off before he can get too impassioned, though, and explains that he’s not crying because he’d upset, but that he’s just a little overwhelmed. Because… because he likes talking to Mondo, too. And he’s just not used to people actually enjoying his company.

That seems to upset Mondo, as the biker is now frowning at him, eyebrows furrowed and eyes full of an emotion Taka can’t begin to explain. And then Mondo says that it’s their loss, as he finds talking to Taka to be quite enjoyable, and his company is more than appreciated too. It overwhelms Taka again and this time a couple tears slip out, to his intense mortification. Thankfully Mondo doesn’t mention it. He just smiles at him gently before looking away over the pond, the silence between them strangely not awkward or tense, but instead soothing and peaceful. Tranquil. It’s honestly so, so nice…

Minutes pass in their silent reveries, their ice creams long finished but still remaining in place.

Finally, after what Taka estimates is about five minutes pass, he hears Mondo talk again. And this time, his voice is very soft. Softer than before, even. So soft it takes Taka a second to decipher the fact that Mondo had just mentioned quietly that he’s been thinking more and more about quitting the gang recently. About retiring and moving on with his life. He isn’t entirely sure what he’ll do next, as he knows he doesn’t have the skills needed to go directly into carpentry— even if he didn’t have a criminal record— and all of his contacts and connections are related to the gang in some way or another. For over a decade, all he’s known has been his gang. What is he without it, Mondo wonders aloud, his tone wistful and a little scared.

It makes Taka feel deeply for Mondo, and while he’s never been the best at comfort, he knows roughly the mechanics of it. And he knows he wants to try. So, despite his misgivings as to his comfort abilities, he hesitantly rests a hand on Mondo’s shoulder and states that if Mondo really wants to do something new with his life and is willing to put in the effort, then Taka knows he will be able to do it. And… Taka hesitates here for a second, before plowing on and saying that if Mondo needs help, that Taka will be more than willing to provide assistance. While Taka doesn’t really know much about carpentry either, he knows that his father has a lot of connections thanks to being the police chief, and that he may be able to help Mondo find cheap courses that teach woodworking and carpentry, if Mondo would like.

Mondo stares at Taka for several seconds in stunned silence, before muttering that he doesn’t have to do that, that Mondo doesn’t want to inconvenience Taka more than he has. Taka just smiles in response, shaking his head firmly. Then he says that he likes helping people, and that if he could help Mondo out in any way, then he would be honored.

Taka then pauses again, before blushing brightly. He visibly debates what he wants to say, but ultimately decides on saying it. Hesitantly and very awkwardly, Taka then offers to allow Mondo to stay with him in his apartment he rents using his scholarship and internship money near his university, about an hour away from their hometown, if he needs a place to stay that isn’t with his gang. He hastily says that it’s only a one bedroom, but that the couch is a pullout, and that Taka wouldn’t mind if he wanted to stay. While he tries to disguise it, Taka can’t quite force down the hope and eagerness of his offer. He doesn’t even know why he is so keen on the idea, he barely knows Mondo besides, but… something about it seems right to Taka. Plus… he does always love to help people…

At first, Taka is sure that Mondo will reject him out of hand. He can see the hesitation on Mondo’s face, so clear that even Taka has no problem recognizing it. But before Taka has a chance to take back the offer and stammer out something to make things less awkward, he hears Mondo softly ask if Taka truly means that, saying that he barely knows Mondo and what little he does know can’t be good.

Taka rejects that idea, though, shaking his head firmly again. He ignores all his uncertainties for the moment and says that the things he has heard about Mondo don’t matter, as hearsay is very rarely accurate. After all, there are many people who claim that Taka is a fraud and a sham, that his efforts in morality and ethics are lies, when Taka knows for certain they are not. And besides. While they’ve only known one another for two partial days, Taka likes to think himself a good judge of character. And he… he thinks Mondo is a good person who deserves to have a second chance. A fresh start if you will. A way to get away from his old life if he so chooses.

Taka then says that it doesn’t have to be a permanent solution, that Mondo can stay with him temporarily until he finds something better. And that the offer is always there if Mondo wants it.

Mondo seems a bit overwhelmed at the kind offer, as he spends a full minute staring out at the pond, hands twitching slightly at his sides. Taka jumps a little when he feels Mondo grab his hand, but he doesn’t pull away. He just turns to face Mondo with wide eyes, and watches in stunned silence as Mondo leans closer and closer slowly. His eyes seem to be telling Taka something, but Taka has no idea what, as frozen as his brain feels. He still doesn’t pull back, though, as a strange sort of anticipation rises within him. And then… then…

Mondo stops about a millimeter from his face, eyes bright and captivating. Taka has one second to realize what is about to happen when… when…

Mondo kisses him.

It’s sweet. And gentle. And is barely a kiss at all, just a brush of lips, but it’s far more than Taka has ever had, and he’s fairly certain he’s forgotten how to breathe, honestly.

After a moment, Mondo pulls back, Taka’s eyes opening back up (he doesn’t recall closing them, but clearly, he must have, he thinks in a daze) and seeing the hesitant look on Mondo’s face.

“That change yer mind?” Mondo asks him breathily, his words shaking and weak. And Taka… his brain is still very sluggish, but he knows what his answer will be.

“No, Mondo… n-not at all…”

Mondo begins to smile brightly then. It starts off small before consuming his entire face, his eyes shining with it. It makes Taka feel bolder than he ever has before, and before he can talk himself out of it, he’s leaning forward and pressing a soft— if a bit clumsy— kiss to Mondo’s lips in return. Pulling back a hair, Taka shyly confesses that he’s been dreaming about doing that for a while now. Just as shy, Mondo laughs and confesses that he has, too.

But then Mondo is sighing, pulling away from Taka completely and looking back out over the pond, a pensive look on his face. The expression makes Taka nervous, but he says nothing as he also looks out over the pond, fidgeting with his hands.

After a while, Mondo starts to talk again, his voice soft and shaky as he claims this whole situation is ‘kinda f*cked, ain’t it?’ They met while Taka was kidnapped all because of Mondo and his lifestyle. How on earth could they ever have anything more than that, after how they first met? Is such a thing even possible?

Taka contemplates the question, biting his lip anxiously. After a few moments of thought, Taka hesitantly replies that he doesn’t think the way they met should matter. No, he can’t say it was a particularly good time for him, but he knows himself well enough. If what he was feeling was just manufactured due to that situation, he doesn’t think it would feel so real. But honestly, he doesn’t know. Maybe he’s wrong. Maybe this is all manufactured emotion due to a bad situation. But… wouldn’t it be worth it to at least try? To see if something could work out between them?

Mondo contemplates that for a while, the pair staring out at the pond in shared silence. Taka is nervous about Mondo’s reply, he has no idea what any of this even means, but he… he’s willing to find out. If Mondo wants to as well… he’s more than willing to find out.

Finally, long minutes later, Mondo speaks. He gives one firm nod of his head and claims that, you know what? Why not. Why not try. It will take him a little while to get all of his affairs in order, but that if Taka wants to try and is willing to help… then why not? Mondo doesn’t have any active warrants out for his arrest, and he’s been training his new second in command for a couple years now, and he thinks the kid is ready to take over fully. He… he could get out, Mondo says softly, his expression a bit lost, but also a bit excited. Taka hesitantly grabs his hand, and Mondo twines their fingers together, smiling at him hopefully.

Taka doesn’t know where this all is going to lead. If there will be a happy ending for the two of them or not. He doesn’t know if they will work out, or if their emotions are false after all. He has no clue whatsoever what is going to happen next.

What he does know, though, he thinks as he looks at Mondo— who is smiling softly back at him, his lavender eyes liquid soft, his expression so tender it makes him ache… what he does know is that he is more than willing to try. To try this thing out. To help Mondo get away from his past and help him move towards the future. There are no guarantees in life, and their situation is a very unique and shaky one. But… but god, is he willing to try.

And at the end of the day…

He supposes that’s all that matters.

THE END.

~~~

(Okay, so I'd been working on a kind of epilogue for this, but I never got around to finishing it before things got really busy for me. But I want this out in the world, so... here you all go! A mini epilogue.)

Mondo’s POV:

It’s several years later and it is made clear that Mondo and Taka have been together for a while. Taka is hurrying around their room trying to get dressed in a fancy suit and tie, frazzled over something, while Mondo watches on fondly. After a minute of this, Mondo saunters over to Taka and wraps his arms around him tightly, muttering that it’s okay. They have over an hour until the party. It’s okay.

Taka sighs heavily, tension still within him, but fading as he holds Mondo in return, resting his head on Mondo’s broad chest. The pair stay like that for several minutes, just existing together.

Mondo muses about their relationship, about how it has progressed over the years. How it wasn’t easy at first and how living together made their tentative relationship a lot more complicated. But eventually they made it work. Taka was able to find Mondo some relatively inexpensive carpentry classes, and Mondo found he truly adored the art. He’d always figured he would, as he secretly loved watching those house building shows on TV, but he hadn’t realized just how much he would love working with wood. He was also good at it, to his extreme shock, and within a year he’d been able to find work at a small carpentry shop not too far from where Taka was staying.

Taka was always very supportive of his dream and spent many nights listening patiently as Mondo would ramble on and on about the things that he learned that day, or the things he made. The apartment they shared (Mondo insisting he pay for half after he stayed there for free for a month) was soon full of Mondo’s projects, Taka so proud of Mondo and all he achieved. Mondo is even currently building them a house to live in together, the pair having bought the land earlier that year.

Mondo was supportive with Taka, too, always willing to listen when Taka would express frustration at his internship with the local city council. Taka was often unhappy with how slow the system worked, wishing he could do more to help people and that he didn’t have to worry about bureaucracy all the time. Mondo would mostly listen and hum in commiseration whenever Taka would get on one of his rants, but a couple times he’d distract Taka from his troubles by kissing him sweetly, something he learned early on was a very effective distraction. As the years passed, Taka moved up in the city government and now has a fairly high position where he can do a lot more good for the general populace, though it was still very taxing on Taka. And as such, Mondo’s means of distraction got a lot less chaste, he thinks with a smirk.

Their relationship, Mondo contemplates, has always been a strange one, honestly. Especially at first. They never really spoke about it or their growing feelings those first several months. They just… kept going and learned as they went. There had been some bumps and hiccups here and there, some fights that seemed inevitable at the time but that probably could have been prevented in retrospect, but for the most part… they just worked. It would often baffle Mondo, the idea that they could work so seamlessly despite being so different on the surface, but he never really questioned it. Why look a gift horse in the mouth, right? As the years passed, they grew closer and closer, and at one point they started calling one another ‘kareshi,’ never really talking about it but knowing that it felt right. They moved into a bigger apartment together, began making financial and life decisions together, and throughout it all, they remained happy together.

All in all, things aren’t perfect for them. They have their problems like any couple does. For one, Taka’s father is still not exactly pleased at their relationship, but he’d given up trying to break them up years ago, to both Taka and Mondo’s relief. For another, their personalities are honestly very similar despite the differences on the surface, and that sometimes leads to some epic bumping of heads. But that doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things, does it? Not when— more often than not— they are very, very happy together. Happier than either of them ever expected they’d be. Mondo has even been contemplating buying Taka a ring, though it still is not legal for two men to marry in Japan. Just… as a promise. To show Taka he wants that. That even though their relationship progressed unconventionally… he still wants it.

Mondo pulls back from his embrace with Taka, smiling when Taka lets out a soft whine of displeasure. To placate him, Mondo kisses Taka gently, even though they need to get going soon.

[hellothere-generalangsty]

hey hey hey 📝

Hey you 🥰 Let me tell you straight away there's more than one because I'm a sucker for your fics and I will absolutely read all the one I haven't read yet because I just know they're good. I just know it. Same, my absolute favorite is in blue! 💙

@murdertoothpick

________

young volcanoes

Of course I love this one, Fives' fic AND Fall Out Boy?? I knew you would come up with something awesome but this... This is absolutely wonderful.

I just love the delight, the comfort in knowing that the war is over, and there will be no more fight to the death for the clones. For these men who will finally do something else than die; they will finally live.

It's not until Echo nudged him that Fives sees you approach the ramp with quick feet, colliding into him with a force so strong that he stumbles back a little, and yet, it's the most grounded he's felt in a long time.

Again, I screamed a very real scream when I read that. It's sad; but also beautiful, to be the one person that grounds him and offers him enough comfort and care and that feeling of safety-

'Don't ever let me go,' you press into him, and the way he squeezes you just a little tighter makes you melt.

It does make me melt. I am a puddle. This quote alone cured my anxiety. No but; for real; I just love these silent moments. I am very vocal about my emotions and feelings for the people I care about; but sometimes words aren't enough, or argent quite right so we turn to these silent exchanges - a look, a pression, a touch - something to let you know it's okay. I love that.

Fives meets Jesse with a proud grin, his hold on you relenting except for the one arm he keeps around your waist. 'Not tonight vod,' he breathes, meeting your eyes as you turn to face his brother, 'I'm going home.'

And Fives' words repeat softly in your head. He's going home. […]

That home is wherever the other is. It is the one thing that perseveres beyond the war. It is the one constant Fives' has ever had the choice to have, the one thing you'd never give up for anything.

This. This is it.

Being someone's home is so personal and meaningful. The trust, the care, the feeling of safety- everything that comes with the fact that you are someone's home.

And for it to be a constant in a life and a galaxy where everything keeps changing?? It's the same energy as Ari's fic It's been a long, long time.

It's comforting, and it gives me hope. This is the essence of Star Wars - hope - and you depicted it so perfectly.

I am honestly amazed and in love with this fic. (And Fives.)

.

at least, percentage wise

This one was a bit painful but also tender; let me explain.

'Hunter sold me as a droid today.'

He continues, 'I know he doesn't think of me like that but...it was hard enough being treated as a clone and now...I don't know what I even am.'

This. Is very painful.

I absutely love Echo, right. I adore him, he's awesome and handsome and kind and funny and he's Echo.

Yet he doesn't know that. He doesn't know who he is anymore- "what" he is.

What. That's so painfully sad. Like I said clones are already caught in this sort of identity crisis because what are they? Clones? Soldiers? Men? Brothers? Humans?

And now. Now Echo isn't even sure he fits the last category anymore. And it honestly pains me when people call him "android" or "droid man" because he already feels so self-conscious about this. And yes- he has prosthetics and robotics implants- but never should he be considered less of a human because of them. He's still Echo. He's still human.

He changed, but he's still Echo.

His next words are whispered, afraid of receiving an answer. 'Tell me you'd love me more if I weren't...' the words catch in his throat, 'this.'

And this is the moment where I tear up because.

This.

I can hear it. I can hear the pain and the fear in his voice and it honestly breaks. My heart.

How deeply rooted is his self-consciousness? How deep does the self-hatred run for him to think so little of himself??

I hate it here it just makes me so angry and sad for him.

My handsome boy deserves BETTER.

'You handsome man,' you jest, blessing him with a short kiss on the lips. 'You ready to sleep now?.'

I love this because I always call Echo "my handsome boy" or "handsome boy" and that's 1. Because he IS handsome like have you seen the man?? And 2. Because I believe if he hears it all the time he will slowly but surely believe it. He will accept that he's handsome and maybe feel less self- conscious about his body and himself...

I just need him to feel loved and beautiful because he is.

And I mean... Soft. Domestic. "You ready to sleep now?" is something you tell to someone in such a casual yet caring way and I am absolutely here for it.

This fic is just- I would react the same way reader did. It's so obvious to me he's absolutely trustworthy and nice and smart and handsome- he's filled with qualities and so many reasons to love him and care for him.

I mean- Echo. He alone is a valid argument.

Anyway, this fic just has me feeling much love for Echo and you made me fall for him again;;

.

push and pull

'Tsk, why won't you do what I say?'

I read that in his voice every. Single. Time. That's just- so him. 100% pure Crosshair content here.

And "the little umbrella" thing? Tech's remark on the food?

These little funny moments are so soft and a nice contrast to the sometimes sad undertone of the fic! I love that!

'I...like being close to you.'

'It's hard enough letting you in. I don't want my brothers thinking I've gone...soft.'

This. This is also very Crosshair. He's not very vocal, and to see him struggle a bit to confess what's really going on and feel awkward and embarrassed about it is just-

Great. In a sweet way. And the way you write him so well, so accurately-

Yes. 100% yes.

.

somewhere only we know

Alright. This fic right here is, I believe, the first one I read from you. At least it marked me enough for me to remember it as the first one.

Anna. This fic right here is. You made me cry. You had me crying while reading it because it's just.

The song alone is already- you know, very bittersweet and nostalgic in a way; and you managed to write something so perfect it's- it's not the fic matching the song. It's the song matching the fic.

I read it again to write this review - with the song on loop obviously - and I got tears again. It's just that powerful.

But your anxiety melts away as he gives you a slight smile, offering his hand to you, 'You'll have to lead the way.' […] He would always trust you, he has never felt otherwise.

I can't even explain how meaningful that it. It means so much to him, and he knows; and you do too. There's a level of trust and intimacy here.

'Just...hold me.'

Don't ask me why, but reader saying this is low-key making me emotional.

'Do you want this?', he murmurs, […].

You take an agonisingly long time to reply, your eyes flit between his, searching for any sign of hesitation, or regret. But you don't find any, as much as Crosshair is good at hiding his emotions behind an impassive and collected facade, you see the silent plea in his eyes, a longing for more.

Tears. Very real tears. The care and respect and trust and love this question alone holds. It's just. So delicate and soft, I just-

And then-

'Are you sure?' he whispers, so close to you, basking in this intimacy.

Girl if you wanted to make me cry you just had to say it, right? Like, don't mind me I'm a sucker for this; being so intimate and respectful of your partner that's like- everything.

Honestly that's what everyone deserves.

He lets out a light laugh, it's beautiful, reverberating deep in your heart, a sound so rare that you try hard to commit it—and the way he looks—to memory.

I promise you...

The candlelight surrounds your face in a halo-like glow like you were sent from heaven. It's a blessing.

...you hold my heart. This is poetry. This is art. This is comforting and lovely. And I am tearing up once again.

Your next words are meek, whispered, hidden away from the outside world, but you bare your soul to him anyways.

You almost don't hear it, but the way the words vibrate against your skin as he spills himself inside you makes it impossible for them not to be heard.

You wrote the words; but honestly I didn't even needed to read them to cry. It's just so vulnerable. They are both in a situation were they are literally and metaphorically naked, and there's nothing else but them - everything else fades away without them noticing and it's just.

Them.

And they allow themselves to be so vulnerable, finally, after all the build-up and the obstacles of the war and the downfall of the galaxy and the chip. After loosing each other and finding their way back to each other.

And finally allowing themselves to be so vulerable, so exposed to each other-

Brb gotta cry some more.

He takes one of your hands in his, pressing a featherlight kiss to your knuckles. 'Just getting you a cloth Cya'rika.'

Your mouth opens in an Oh, and you gingerly nod at him. 'Okay, sorry,' you give him the most beautiful smiles he's ever seen, and there's a part of him that has changed its mind about leaving you even for a second.

I can't even. Explain. How sweet this is. No words can express what I'm feeling as I read this. The comfort. The reassuring tone. The f**king Mando'a nickname.

Your arms open pathetically when he lets go of you, an invite for him to join you under the covers. But he looks at you in pure adoration, a sight that's so peaceful, so domestic, that he finds himself letting his mind wander, imagining that this temporary room was a home, a place where he could spend the rest of his days with you, away from war and the empire.

My heart is aching. A lot. It's so peaceful yet so tragic in a way, but they don't see that. Again, it's just them; this moment of intimacy, of domestic life where nothing else matter but what they are sharing right now.

Somewhere only we know.

.

alone together

This fic is awesome. I love the dynamic between reader and Crosshair, there's this very obvious alchemy between them and you manage to write about it with limited dialogue and amazing descriptions. I am absolutely in awe.

Also- Confident Reader? Love that! Especially in a Crosshair fic! And it's great because we also see a glimpse of Crosshair having self-esteem issues, so there's a sort of shift where for once Crosshair doesn't have the "upper hand" and reader isn't all shy and flustered you know (though I absolutely love these kind of fics too!)

But yeah- their dynamic was really interesting!

.

heartbeat

Another Crosshair fic because I love him and you really write him so well and in-character.

'I like...hearing your heartbeat.'

This little hesitation is everything. And it's so... So personal and delicate.

Someone's heartbeat. That's life pulsing through their body. That's very symbolic too; we usually link strong feelings like love and care to the heart, and to lay there with someone and enjoy listening to that life pulsing-

Yeah I'm getting soft again

'I'm not moving,' he grumbles, pressing himself further into you and sighing in relief.

This is so lovely; him holding on tighter because he doesn't want to move, because he feels good here and that's the best way he found to let you know...

I just love your takes on Soft!Crosshair, you really know what you're writing about.

.

hands meet

I tried to draw Hunter. With the sunglasses and the shirt and him trying to be cool.

I shall do that drawing again because it's absolutely HILARIOUS and I just adore this fic because it's so light-hearted and sweet and funny!

It's a feel-good fic, the one you read when you need to clear your head a bit; and I promise you the laugh I had reading it!

And I just love the dynamic between Hunter and reader; it's awkward yet there's a lot of alchemy and you just know they do like each other a lot and are just struggling to express it directly.

That's very sweet and I love that.

Love it.

________

So yeah! Again, it was longer than expected but I am not sorry because you deserve to know how much I love these fics and how you also hold my heart in your hands with these.

You're an amazing - incredible - writer and I love how you bring these very human and realistic elements to your stories. It just makes them even more relatable and enjoyable, even if sometimes it's painful, and that's what I love so much about your writing.

Also I absolutely love how you incorporate lyrics between in your writings

Anyway- love u Anna, love your writing, you're amazing!!

[archduke42]

Yay!! Thank you for the Tag, @jedimasterbailey! I always enjoy these tagged projects

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

78 Completed, 2 drafts to bust through before the end of June

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count?

541,343

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Exclusively Star Wars for, specifically prequel era characters. I have a couple Sequel era stories but I'm almost all about Prequel/Clone Wars/Rebels era

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Anisoka: Conspiracy on Ringo Vinda

2) Anisoka: Brighter than the Sun

3) Rexsoka: The Ravishal Pulsar

4) My version of Revenge of the Sith

5) Barrissoka: A Love Story

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes! Comments are worth more than Gold, and I always appreciate the feedback :)

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

My Star Wars Saga depicting the Prequels, because it concluded with Revenge of the Sith and a lot of bittersweet stuff for every character involved

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Maybe Barrissoka: A Love Story, but most if not all of my Barrissoka stories end in true love.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

There were a few people on Deviantart in the early years that blocked me and were critical and disapproving of my same sex shipping stories. One guy would always yammer on my threads about the evils of Homosexual relations, Feminism and Woke story telling, etc. I was really too patient with it but that was the biggest problem for a short time

I did get some criticism for having stories that mostly followed a pattern and were kind of predictable.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I try to do poetic intimacy type scenes when it's called for. It has to be beautiful. I don't do porn, and never rape (there might be an implied intention by a villain, but the victim is always rescued before anything brutal happens.)

I believe in the beauty of intimacy for two characters, especially when they are either truly in love or caught up in desperate situations and feel like they must defy death by "living" with extra energy (if you know what I mean)

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? I LOVE crossovers! Though all my fiction is Star Wars, I like to do a nod to other scifi characters/planets/situations/etc. I like to think of them as Easter Eggs and Homages Mostly there are cameos (Ahsoka might have breakfast in a cafe run by the Shadout Mapes, a character from Dune) or somebody gets to talk to Riddick, etc. I love many Scifi Fantasy films and TV, so I cannot help but add an homage to them in my stories. My "Dying of the Light" series is chock full of crossover characters cuz I just think it's cool that Ventress is pals with Vincent from Disney's 1979 film "The Black Hole"

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, would be interesting if someone tried to do it. I did have a guy want to do a comic adaptation of one of my stories, and that is always flattering.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Star Wars Passions was a project I did for a lesbian friend that wanted a lot of smutty Star Wars romancing and women with big boobs. I was not entirely comfortable at first, but I am very happy with how the adventure went, and the characters were a lot of fun to write. Tis a bit naughty

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Barrissoka. To quote Alan Rickman: "Always"

14. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

There are a few half baked story ideas in my stache on Deviantart that started out with ambition but fizzled because I couldn't get the magic working for them. When the magic kicks in, the story becomes unstoppable, but there are a dozen or so stories that never caught on

15. What are your writing strengths?

I love epic adventures. I grew up on the great fantasy classics like Golden Voyage of Sinbad, Krull, Flash Gordon, Highlander, Wrath of Khan, Dune, Clash of the Titans. Also loved all 5 seasons of the A-Team where the good guys kicked ass, but also I am a huge David Tennant Doctor Who guy, and I take the energy from these influences and smash together stories that makes my dopamine levels hit the roof.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

Writing angst. Oh, the character can have some despair, but I tend to be too melodramatic and there's always a big blowout action thing at the end that makes my dopamine levels forget that angst is a thing. Guys and their A-Team ain't got time for angst when there's car chases and action to be had

17. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I sometimes add a few phrases in another language to spice it up (I also try to stay true to Barriss' Muslim coding, so there's often a dash of Arabic sometimes)

18. First fandom you wrote for?

Actually started out writing with an online group doing fanfiction for John Carpenter's Halloween back in 1998 when Halloween H2O came out. Learned a lot on how to improve my writing from that group. I still recommend Halloween 4 as a very underrated sequel, and Rachel Carruthers is an excellent empowered female character that gets overlooked.

19.) Favorite fic you’ve written?

I will always be proud of my Reimagining of Episodes I, II and III. It took almost 8 years to finish, and it's tiring to wrangle 50+ characters with their own sub plots and story lines. But I was young and dumb and full of ambition to make the perfect Star Wars Saga. It's also where I just discovered a love for writing Barriss Offee. So much of an empty canvas for this character and I enjoyed making her larger than life All of you are more than welcome to participate. I love trying to read new stuff!! @devondeal @lesbiansandpuns @thecleverqueer @425599167 @barrissoka @stellanslashgeode

I can't remember everyone, so jump in :)

20 Questions for Fic Writers

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 49. I have a few options for #50…

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 299,440. Ok, I hadn’t realized I was that close. Now, my answer to #1 might be “a new 560-word drabble.”

3. What fandoms do you write for? I’m nearly exclusively writing for Avatar: Legend of Korra, with a little bit of Last Airbender, where it fits in.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

1. Rainstorm - Su is there for Lin, for once. 2. The Well of Need - My first long-form story, with Lin taking care of Kya. 3. This is My Anchor - A mid-sized Kyalin story where Lin doesn’t make Kya take care of her. 4. I’m Sorry I Need You - An angsty one-shot that fits with a couple others in the “marriage is hard” domain. 5. Walk With Me - A longer-than-intended one-shot variant on a Tumblr joke.

5. Do you respond to comments? I do, as soon as I can. Sometimes, that means getting off work. Sometimes, that means giving a response as meaningful as the comment was to me. 

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? For complete stand-alone stories, that is likely Something Changed, where the last words are usually joyous. I can’t find the link for the worst-worst ending I have, so just pretend that never happened.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? The happiest ending? I like my happy endings, so this is tough. But I think I’ll go for Elemental Changes, because that launched my collaboration with @slowdissolve on Red Jade.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not hate, exactly. One reader informed me that I had ‘let them down’ on a follow-up story because I didn’t write the story that was in their head. 

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I’ve done a little, but it hasn’t been a focus for me. And, aside from the polyamory aspect, it’s all as vanilla as it comes.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? Not unless you count LOK + ATLA a crossover, which I don’t.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Not to date.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? @slowdissolve and I wrote Moonsigns together, and we published two versions. One is told in first-person language and color coded, on Tumblr. We then followed it up with a more traditional third-person version that does not rely on color, on AO3.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship? Kyalin is where everything opened up for me. 

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I’m taking quite the long view of all of this. I haven’t added to Their Sacred Year in a while, but have the outline for the next installment, so I don’t consider it abandoned.

16. What are your writing strengths? Folks seem to like my dialogue and plotting.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I struggle with the final rising action / climax / falling action, to keep the pacing appropriate to the story.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I don’t plan on it, given I am uneducated in the languages appropriate to this setting. 

19. First fandom you wrote for? Legend of Korra.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? Saving the hardest for last. Naming the favorite child. Ok, fine. In that case, I’ll have to choose <wrestles with self> Elemental Changes (see #7), mostly because it’s a completely off-the-wall idea that I was able to see through and complete. And to have Slowdissolve illustrate the ending was an absolute capstone.

So I get to thank both @krastbannert and @wishingforatypewriter for their invitations!

Now, it's time to throw the floor open to folks like @yell0wsalt, @dont-blame-it-on-the-kids, @linguini17, @frogblast-the-ventcore, @badlucksav, @cdlunee, and of course,

you.

[sukisdeliveryservice]

writer ask game // from @januarystars @starlightjoong @neolee231 tyty loves!!

tagging @kwonsyoungs hi aria hehe

1. what fandoms have you written for (but do not currently)?

harry potter! back in like 2015? those were uhhh not good D:

2. what fandoms are you currently writing for?

seventeen atm!! but maybe i wanna write a soobin fic :O (coffeehouse ppl don't look here)

3. how long have you been writing?

i wrote a lot during 2015-2017!! there's a HUGE gap inbetween and i started writing again in may 2021 D:

4. on which platforms do you post your stories?

just tumblr!! i used to post on wattpad though lol

5. what is your favorite genre to write?

i would say fluff but for some reason i write a lot of comfort nowadays...maybe i'm just sad a lot

6. are you a pantser or a planner?

what is a pantser lol uhhh i don't really plan because i'm bad at writing and creating ideas in general so i guess pantser???

7. one shot or multi-chapter?

oneshots!! i get uninsipired really easily ;-; but for reading i usually like reading longer fics :D

8. what is the perfect chapter length in your opinion?

depends on what it is!! sometimes i feel like you can hit the right spot in only a few words but sometimes i think its necessary to stretch things out for proper development :3

9. what is your longest published story? is it complete?

my spidey!chan fic is about 9k! it's complete and you can find it here - back to you

10. which story did you enjoy working on the most?

to be honest i didn't really like anything i've worked on because i'm really unsatisifed with my writing :( i'd say my debut fic - flights and feelings was my favourite because it kicked me back into writing and i felt less pressure to make it good :)

11. favorite request you have written and why(if any)?

bittersweet day !! mingyu makes me cry :3 thank you anon for rq that :)

12. are there reoccurring themes in your stories?

terrible writing. but uhhh i repeat a lot of words/phrases out of habit :( and it's almost always going to have a happy ending because i'm a weak crybaby

13. Current number of wips(works in progress)?

probably like 3 or 4? i mentioned i get uninspired easily :( i'm also super inconsistent pls i'm so sorry

14. three things you have noticed about your own writing.

repeated words, awkward pacing/flow, long unecessary sentences, excess words in general, uncreative for the most part...

15. a quote you like from a published story.

he has a few more days until the end of his tour. maybe he can leave a little bit early, a lot of people are going to be upset though; but it doesn’t matter, he wants you.

“just a little longer okay love? i’ll be home soon.”

- say you love me

16. a quote from an unpublished story.

Jeonghan doesn’t age, you know that. You used to pray every night that one day you would wake up and find a wrinkle on his forehead, a crinkle at the corner of his eye, a strand of gray hair above his ear; anything that would tell you that his time to rest had finally come.

17. space for you to say something to your readers

thank you for giving me a chance guys 😭 i don't really have any works i'm proud of atm but thank you for sharing all your reactions in the tags and every little intereaction MEANS THE WORLD TO ME !! it's kind of baffling that someone took the time to read something i wrote and i read every single comment you guys make 💕💕💕 ily and i send hugs and all my love 💕🤧

[prince-liest]

fic writer interview!

How many works do you have on AO3?

37, though another one is going up tomorrow because haunted AO3 hours started and I don't want to post it in the middle of the night on a Monday. Also like 4 or 5 more in reserve from zines/bangs. I'm kinda impressed with myself, but also, side-eyeing y'all with fic counts in the 100s. Phenomenal. Effervescent.

What's your total AO3 word count?

257,246

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

In chronological order of first fic on AO3: Percy Jackson, Soul Eater, Steven Universe, My Hero Academia, Dragalia Lost, Avater: the Last Airbender, the Witcher, and Genshin Impact! That's 7 fandoms and I'm not counting Homestuck (I only wrote OC stuff) or D&D (same thing).

I also have works from Axis Powers: Hetalia and Katekyo Hitman Reborn! on Fanfiction dot hell that none of you will ever see. I definitely posted and deleted a Twilight OC fic once.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Dish Duty | ATLA

The Sword of Damocles is Swinging | MHA

The Ancient Art of Jerkbending | ATLA

Dishabille | MHA

Summer Break | MHA

ATLA is a powerful fandom so I'm not surprised both my ATLA fics made top five. Dishabille's popularity continues to pleasantly surprise me. Damocles is only surprising because it isn't first. I am so proud of Summer Break and that entire Shinsou series, I'm glad it made top 5 and is gonna break 1k kudos soon. <3

(Now get Dog-Tired up there, I fucking love that story. q^q)

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

To quote Mido: I do, but not consistently. Q^Q I read them all and I really want to reply to them all, but I very frequently simply to not have the energy. I have it posted on my AO3 profile, though, so hopefully it doesn't hurt anyone's feelings... I have recently been trying to at least answer all new incoming comments and not let the backlog increase! (That said, the backlog is over 100.)

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

I don't tend to do angsty endings (I am a hard lover of angst with a happy ending), but I've written some questionable and bittersweet ones. I think arguably the best contendor for angstiest ending is probably Kindred Spirit. I wrote it to low key revenge myself on @thegc4life for insisting that Shinsou gets a hug (he does! technically!) and it certainly ended ominously.

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

As much as I love "Edward Elric gets transported into X universe and proceeds to kick everyone's ass" crossovers, I don't relaly write any. I do enjoy full transplant AUs, though, and the one I recently posted on AO3 is an MHA-at-Hogwards AU called the Birds and the Mares that I wrote for the HP/BNHA Zine!

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Deeeeepends on what you mean by 'hate.' :X has gotten two comments (one much politer than the other, haha) complaining about my use of the r-slur in Shinsou's internal narrative in one of the chapters, but one person backpedaled and said they understood the purpose of it while the other (more vehement) one never replied to my explanation. That's all, though!

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Yeah. It's never going on my main AO3 (and the one time it did, I orphaned the fic). I have a side account I might post it on once I get over the fact that people who know me also know about the account. It's all 100% PWP of stuff I personally am into, and I have a very specific set of things I'm into, so... idk, feels a little personal! ^^"

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No, but I've had people adopt general concepts I used (fabulous!) and steal my RP OCs back in ye olde fantroll days (not at all fabulous! incredibly hurtful, actually). I am vehemently opposed to plagiarism, even of concepts. It feels so gross.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Someone in the comments mentioned that they are translating Bloodied Hound into Russian and I am SO EXCITED. I desperately want to read it. Of all the languages, it happened to be the only other one I'm decently literate in! I also want to show my grandparents. I really hope the person follows through. <3

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I've roleplayed a lot, but I can't see myself ever co-writing a fic. I'm not even sure how it works, to be honest!

What’s your all time favourite ship?

Urgh. Pass. I can't pick one. Perils of a multishipper.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I was going to proudly say "I never post things I don't plan on finishing!" but in reality that is a lie, because Falling Down A Rabbit Hole exists from back in 2015 and is in fact the reason I made that rule for myself. ^^" Honestly, what's there still holds up, but the reality is that I didn't actually come up with a plot, so there's nowhere for it to go.

What are your writing strengths?

Interesting/relatable/funny dialogue, and also writing feelings in a 'show, don't tell!' kind of way that leaves strong impressions with people!

What are your writing weaknesses?

Plotting out long stories with good pacing! People thought Damocles had a plot, apparently? Joke's on you, it was a series of "I wanna see this happen" scenarios that I made Hawks suffer through and subsequently strung together like a haphazard multicolor plastic bead necklace that I told everyone was actually pearls.

That's why all my stories after Damocles are either short or split into a series. Shinsou's Bad Days is my attempt at proper pacing, hence it being so episodic.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I'll do it if I know the language well enough (so, Russian and ASL, I don't trust my casual Japanese), but I'm generally a stickler for making things come off naturally, so I otherwise will instead try to find the closest tonal equivalent in English (such as having Childe call Zhongli "professor" instead of "xiansheng"). Sometimes there just isn't one (like Kazuha calling Beidou 'big sis' but in a way that doesn't sound kiddish and overly casual for him), though, which sucks. :( Language is cool!

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

T. Twilight. QUQ I wish that fic still existed, it was like a single chapter of two multicolored hair OCs befriending Alice Cullen and being cool. I deleted it but I SHOULDN'T HAVE. IT WAS HISTORY.

What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

This totally changes with each new slew of fics I post. I think currently it is Dog-Tired because despite being unsatisfied with the title, I think the story itself turned out amazing. I also am extremely happy with the entire Shinsou's Bad Days series (including upcoming installments).

Tagged by: @touchmycoat (THANK U LOVE <3)

Tagging: anyone who's read this far, LOL. seriously, though, I have a lot of writer moots and I don't have the time to tag them all but PLEASE do this and tag me so I can read it if you are so inclined! <3