#i did REALLY bad on nearly every test and broke down about them frequently | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

likeshipsonthesea · 4 years

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mianmian gets to the lan sect lectures, discovers very quickly that every one of her peers has decided to use this time to figure out how quickly they can get into bed with someone of the opposite sex, and decides almost immediately that she has to pick a suitably unattainable guy to have a crush on.

the thing is, mianmian is lanling jin’s head disciple. she is capable, intelligent, and very very gay. the last of these things she isn’t exactly keen on telling people yet for a variety of reasons up to and including jin zixuan will be so awkward and stubbornly supportive about it and she doesn’t know how to deal with that yet

so when her friends giggle over the other young masters and finally turn to mianmian-- who’s trying to memorize at least some of the fifty-thousand rules before their quiz tomorrow--and they ask her, “who do you like, mianmian?” she says the name that she carefully picked out of a handful of options.

“lan-er-gongzi,” she says, without looking up from her textbook, and she assumes that will be the end of it.

lan wangji is both incredibly attractive and unrelentingly resistant to all attempts to flirt with him. she, like half the other female cultivators, can moon over him (or pretend to moon over him) all they want and nothing will come of it. it’s perfect. she’s a genius. the worst she’ll have to do now is pretend to be infatuated with him when her friends start gossiping. it’s fool proof.

spoiler: it’s not

it’s not, no, because her friends are horrible and immediately start gossiping about it to everyone, and usually mianmian wouldn’t care but then jin zixuan finds out. jin zixuan, whose marriage complex is being brought to center stage with the forced proximity to his bride-to-be. jin zixuan, who for some reason decided he has to live his stolen crush-addled youth vicariously through his only real friend that isn’t related to him. jin zixuan, who for some godforsaken reason takes it upon himself to contrive situations for mianmian and lan wangji to be alone together incessantly.

it unfortunately takes mianmian longer than she would like to figure out what’s happening. she’d give herself a break for it-- she was being responsible and studying, thank you very much-- but she doesn’t have much sympathy for her own stupidity seeing as she’s currently locked in a section of the lan library with the second jade of lan

and suddenly, suddenly she’s just so fucking tired. of studying, yeah, the tests here are brutal and there’s no one to bribe to make sure she doesn’t lose points on stupid things, but also tired of lying to the people she loves and tired of training this hard and being an amazing cultivator only for people to care more about her eventual marriage-- to a man of all things!-- and also, let’s be real here, she’s been in lectures with beautiful capable intelligent women for like months and she’s losing her gay ass mind

and so maybe, possibly, as she’s locked in a library with a clearly confused and annoyed second jade of lan she kind of, momentarily, loses it and rants all of this at his steadily widening eyes

at the end of it, she realizes with no small amount of panic that she’s just confessed not only her attraction to women but the fact that she’s been letting wen qing’s ears of all things distract her from her studies. if anything, she’s sure lan wangji will fault her for inattention

but the second jade of lan, after a drawn-out moment filled only with mianmian’s labored breathing and rising panic, simply says, “i understand.”

mianmian stops. she squints. she tilts her head. she squints some more. lan wangji’s ears go pink and just like that she realizes -- “you’re a cut-sleeve.”

lan wangji’s ears go even pinker. he doesn’t nod, or agree, or outwardly react in any way, but mianmian is a capable, intelligent cultivator, and she’s sure of it.

mianmian sighs with a relief she didn’t know she could feel. “thank the gods.”

lan wangji doesn’t seem to know what to make of this response, or mianmian’s increasingly frequent trips to the library following their conversation, or mianmian’s staunch determination to befriend the guy, but that’s alright. mianmian is old hat at befriending awkward sect heirs by this point.

it’s not like lan wangji expressed any desire for her friendship, but the prospect of not being the only one with absolutely no interest in the straight shenanigans happening at gusu lan summer camp is enough to let mianmian ignore his obvious confusion. lan wangji is a great listener and only sometimes blushes when mianmian waxes poetic about the beautiful women she’s forced to surround herself with every day

“no but you don’t understand,” mianmian insists, alone in the library with lan wangji, “jiang-guniang asked me to help her with a sword form. i put my hands on her waist. i said something idiotic bc she was so pretty and right there and then she laughed. lan wangji. i’m in love.”

“yesterday you were in love with wen-guniang,” lan wangji says as he impassively turns a page in his book. “has this changed?”

“no, i’m in love with both of them. all of them. lan wangji. they’re all so pretty all the time. it’s horrible.”

lan wangji presses his lips into a firmer line, which mianmian’s come to understand means he’s repressing a smile. “i’m sorry to hear it brings luo-guniang such trouble.”

mianmian groans, fairly undignified, but that’s a lost cause with lan wangji at this point anyway. “i swear, if jin zixuan says one more bad thing about her i’m going to punch him and marry her myself.”

lan wangji says, “mn,” which mianmian takes to mean that he supports her in this line of thinking, which she finds both quite sweet and ridiculously funny.

grinning, she teases, “lan-er-gongzi, if i do end up marrying jiang-guniang, will you bear witness to our elopement?”

lan wangji’s lips press again, this time in the way that means he’s repressing a frown. “jiang-guniang’s brothers wouldn’t allow for an elopement,” he says.

mianmian huffs. “as if yunmeng or lanling will deign to host our wedding.”

lan wangji appears to ponder this for a moment before he says, “gusu will host it,” and it’s at that moment that mianmian realizes she’s actually gone and fucking befriended the second jade of lan.

what is her life.

of course, it’s not long after that that she goes to find jin zixuan and explain that she can’t make their weekly sparring match today because she has plans with lan wangji (jiang yanli tenderly brushed some of mianmian’s hair away from her forehead while they were working on sword forms and if mianmian doesn’t tell someone about it she’s literally going to explode) and she’s trying to be as polite as possible only for jin zixuan to scoff and pout (”i don’t pout”) and say, “i never took you for one of those women who throw themselves so wantonly at a man”

it’s only for having been friends with this absolutely horrible communicator for most of her life that she doesn’t immediately punch him in the face. “what did you just say to me,” she demands, but jin zixuan just sets his jaw and looks away, flushing down his neck in the way his mother describes as unbecoming and--

and mianmian suddenly realizes that her ridiculous best friend is jealous of lan wangji.

(in a friend way, of course, he’s like her brother, the one time his mother implied that he ought not get too close to women in case it jeopardizes his betrothal to jiang yanli, he insisted he didn’t have any female friends repeatedly as his mother delicately danced around outright saying mianmian’s name until finally she broke and jin zixuan was basically like huh?? mianmian doesn’t count?? she made me eat dirt like six times when we were kids)

the sheer ridiculousness of jin zixuan, to set her up with a guy and then get jealous when she spends all her time with him

and fuck her, but she loves her stupid awkward ridiculous sect heir best friend and she doesn’t want him to think she’s gone and left him for someone else (gods know jin zixuan’s loyalty complex rivals his marriage one (on second thought the two might be connected)) and so, after making a few quick decisions, mianmian grabs her stupid best friend by the wrist and pulls him to the library

he protests all the way there, but he’s been letting her drag him wherever she wants since they were five and it isn’t as if he’s going to break the pattern now. she drags him to the library and sits him down across a startled lan wangji and then finally breaks and gushes about jiang-guniang’s fingertips brushing her forehead and doesn’t look at jin zixuan once the whole time

lan wangji, on the other hand, sends jin zixuan frequent glances, as if worried on mianmian’s behalf, which is super sweet and also how the fuck did mianmian get two awkward sect heirs to care about her platonically wtf. she spares a thought for her poor auntie, who would’ve loved to have a sect heir care about her niece in much less platonic ways.

at the end of mianmian’s rant, jin zixuan is blinking quite a lot. “you like women?” he asks. he’s always been a bit slow on the uptake. mianmian nods. “you like jiang-guniang?”

mianmian shrugs. “more or less. she’s just really pretty and i’m dying about it. it’s fine.”

lan wangji says, “mn,” sympathetically and jin zixuan continues to gape.

mianmian winces. “you’re not going to be weird about this, are you?”

jin zixuan shakes his head quickly. “no, no-- of course not, i--you know that i--you’re my best friend, i don’t care--what does it matter to me, who you want to--to touch your hair.”

it’s probably the most awkward sentence he’s said to her in years, but possibly more articulate than she’d been expecting. it makes her tear up regardless and she punches him in the shoulder to hide it, and that’s basically how the three of them start hanging out in the library nearly every day after lecture.

sometimes they go to the sparring ground, bc who’s better sparring practice than the second jade of lan? and sometimes (once or twice) mianmian manages to convince lan wangji to join her and jin zixuan for lunch in caiyi town when they don’t have lecture, but mostly they meet in a secluded part of the library where mianmian can rant about how pretty all the women at lectures are, jin zixuan can turn pink whenever she mentions jiang-guniang, and lan wangji can “mn” and nod sympathetically at all the right parts

and mianmian thinks that’s going to be the end of it, they’re just going to be friends now and everything else will move on as usual, bc by some ridiculous trick of fate lan wangji and jin zixuan seem to like each other. which makes sense in hindsight bc they’re both awkward sect heirs who care about cultivation and people a lot even if they’re not great at showing it

(and he’d never say it but mianmian thinks jin zixuan’s easy acceptance of her liking women is probably the first time lan wangji’s ever seen someone accept that kind of thing before (maybe, possibly, other than his brother, lan xichen seems really cool, even if he does smile kind of intensely at mianmian whenever he happens upon her hanging out with his little brother.))

so they’re friends, they’re unexpected friends, and sometimes lan wangji even makes jokes in that dry deadpan way of his and sometimes jin zixuan doesn’t completely trip over his own words and manages to act like a normal human being and mianmian gets two idiots to care about and a perfect place to vent her womanly frustrations, and she thinks that’s the end of it and then wei wuxian accosts her after lectures one day

“do you like lan zhan?” he asks accusingly, eyes narrowed to slits. “what am i even asking, of course you like lan zhan, but do you like-like him?”

mianmian thinks sadly to herself that she’s much too into women to be dealing with all these men’s emotional problems. “lan wangji is my friend,” she says, carefully sidestepping wei wuxian, who continues to squint at her suspiciously. really, he’d been amusing when he flirted with her, but this? this is just ridiculous.

“does he know that?” wei wuxian asks. “because if he doesn’t, that’s just leading him on, and it’s really not nice to--”

“lan wangji knows we’re friends,” she says, trying to enunciate to get her point across clearly. “you can ask him, if you don’t believe me.”

wei wuxian squints a moment longer before he turns and flounces off. mianmian thinks this is the end of it until she’s accosted again after dinner with, “he said you were friends!”

for some reason, wei wuxian seems even more troubled by this than earlier. mianmian tries to suppress her eyeroll. “i told you he would?”

“but how,” wei wuxian says, suddenly whining. “i’ve been trying to be his friend for months and he refuses to acknowledge me.”

oh, mianmian realizes with a quickly dawning horror. she and lan wangji are not the only cut-sleeves at cloud recesses this summer. (she has suspicions, of course, but no confirmations on any of the others, but this. wow.)

she also realizes, decides really, that she has enough repressed sect heirs in her life and she cannot deal with wei wuxian’s cut-sleeve crisis or his evidently large attachment to lan wangji right now. she turns decisively and walks the fuck away. not her problem.

the lectures end eventually, of course, and mianmian and jin zixuan return to lanling with a horde of golden robed disciples, freshly deflowered and not all together more learned. it’s what, she thinks grimly, their sect leader would want.

the first few weeks go by and she realizes that she’s missed unloading about her frequent and fast falling-in-loves. jin zixuan just doesn’t sympathize right, bless him, and so mianmian takes to writing letters. she sends two without receiving a reply and just starts to write the third when a letter with the gusu symbol is delivered to her room.

she’s almost expecting to find a single mn written on the page-- she would’ve been delighted with just that, actually, the sheer hilarity of such a thing-- but instead she finds several pages filled with lan wangji’s perfect calligraphy.

it’s more than he’s ever spoken out loud, but it seems that propriety dictated that he return mianmian’s extensive letter with one of his own and he’s done so admirably. he responds to the events mianmian detailed in her letters-- most succinctly summarized as, woman are gorgeous and i’m dying-- and then writes about his own life in cloud recesses. apparently, he went on a little night hunt with wei wuxian and also nie huaisang and jiang cheng were involved? seriously, mianmian misses out on all the fun.

he’s also apparently taken in some rabbits, which mianmian immediately decides she needs to see. lan wangji, sitting prim and proper, with a bunch of rabbits in his lap? amazing. wei wuxian would die on sight, she’s sure of it.

he also ends his letter with a warning about qishan wen that has mianmian frowning. she takes it to jin zixuan who reads the paragraph and frowns. “i’ll talk to my father about it,” he says, which she can tell by his hunched shoulders he doesn’t expect to do much.

“talk to your father’s general too,” she suggests, because that man at least thinks with his head and not his dick.

jin zixuan nods but doesn’t hand back the letter. he skims it instead with a barely concealed surprise at lan wangji’s previously hidden expansive vocabulary. mianmian snorts and grabs the letter back. “you can write to him yourself, you know.”

jin zixuan flushes down his neck. “i know!” he insists and then turns and runs away because he’s a coward. mianmian shakes her head, smiling. what an idiot.

still, another week goes by and a letter arrives from gusu and, when mianmian takes it, assuming it’s for her, she finds it addressed to jin zixuan in lan wangji’s impeccable calligraphy and she grins to herself like an idiot. look at jin zixuan, making friends

(she suddenly understands why lan xichen gave her all those intense smiles during the lan lectures)

they go on in this way, writing letters to lan wangji from lanling. sometimes mianmian steals jin zixuan’s letters before he sends them so she can squeeze in some ranting in the post script without wasting a whole second thing of paper, and lan wangji replies dutifully, more verbose than he ever was in person, and it’s nice okay, like. she and jin zixuan have been best friends since they were kids but neither of them has ever been any good at listening and lan wangji is just so honest and earnest in everything, like they didn’t realize that people outside of lanling were actually not always plotting your downfall??? who woulda thunk

and then of course the wens go and ruin everything. they go to the wen lectures bc jin guangshan doesn’t want to “anger our trading partner” like the guy isn’t obviously going to burn carp tower to the ground the first chance he gets, and mostly mianmian and jin zixuan are just vaguely annoyed and put out about it

then lan wangji shows up with a broken leg and a burned sect and they are ready to murder some dudes

after years of breaking in and out of carp tower she and jin zixuan are old hats at this breaking and entering stuff and they manage to sneak into lan wangji’s guest quarters and tend to his wounds, ignoring all his silent glares and ranting furiously about how they’re going to murder wen chao by making him choke on his own dick (mianmian) and how they’re going to war with the wen sect even if he has to threaten his father with acknowledging all of his bastards as proper siblings in public to do it (jin zixuan)

lan wangji just says “mn” and makes various muted, distressed expressions, but mianmian thinks he’s touched.

“are your brother and uncle alright?” she asks, when she’s set his broken leg and forced pain medication down his throat.

“brother escaped with our sacred texts,” lan wangji says. “uncle is... unwell.”

mianmian knows lan wangji hates touch but the way he says it, with this horrible little frown, emoting more than she’s ever seen him, his barely suppressed anger and grief literally making his hands shake into fists, mianmian can’t help it, she hugs him. “we’ll make them pay,” she swears into his shoulder, ruining the lines of his robes with how she clutches at them. “i promise you.”

jin zixuan awkwardly pats lan wangji’s shoulder, which is a lot for him and mianmian spares a moment to be proud of his growth.

unfortunately, wen chao seems to delight in torturing lan wangji on his injured leg and lan wangji refuses to show weakness, which both impresses mianmian and pisses her the fuck off. she approaches wen qing (and her still gorgeous ears, sigh) and asks her to tend to lan wangji, since she’s like actually a doctor. wen qing does bc she’s beautiful, intelligent, and kind and mianmian spends most of that night sighing deeply as she relates this to a significantly drugged lan wangji

the cave of the xuanwu goes about the same as you’d expect. wei wuxian saving her from getting her face branded off is pretty rad of him, though he could’ve just like knocked the brand away instead of throwing himself in front of it but whatever, you do you boo. when lan wangji gets left behind the two of them don’t even have to wait for jiang cheng to grumble and ask for their help, they’re already on their way to carp tower for an army, thank you very much

when they rescue wei wuxian and lan wangji and lan wangji immediately turns to walk back to cloud recesses on a broken leg mianmian says, “fuck no, that’s not happening, you’re getting medical attention and then someone will fly you back home, okay, wtf wangji, sit down.”

and lan wangji is a stubborn bitch so obvs he’s like no but he’s also severely starved, dehydrated, and injured, so it’s not like he can just shake off mianmian holding him down and this goes on long enough for wei wuxian to wake up and see mianmian touching lan wangji, and something in his poor little brain just like breaks and he demands says, “lan zhan, come back to lotus pier with us.”

his argument, as he explains it, is that lotus pier is closer (it’s not; they’re just as close to carp tower as lotus pier) and that it’s closer to gusu for when lan wangji has to return home (it’s not; same deal) but then jiang cheng starts yelling, possibly in support possibly not mianmian’s not sure, and jin zixuan starts getting awkward, probably about the whole golden army behind him bc he’s a nerd and hates being overdressed at functions (this is basically the same thing), and mianmian looks at lan wangji and she sees--

something. she isn’t sure what exactly, but lan wangji looks at wei wuxian as he argues with his brother and he presses his lips into a thin line in the way that means he wants to smile and mianmian thinks, oh. maybe wei wuxian isn’t completely unrequited in his lan wangji obsession.

growing up in lanling, she knows how to use information to her advantage, so she immediately says, “young masters wei and jiang, what a great idea. lanling’s disciples would be pleased to accompany you and second young master lan to lotus pier to ensure everyone’s safe arrival.”

everyone splutters, indignant, confused, awkward (jiang cheng, wei wuxian, and jin zixuan, respectively) but lan wangji narrows his eyes at mianmian and doesn’t try to convince her to let him walk to gusu again, so she counts it as a win.

sect leader jiang and his wife seem surprised and annoyed, respectively, to be taking in so many guests, but sect leader jiang merely smiles pleasantly and directs them to some guest quarters and mianmian and wei wuxian ask, simultaneously, for doctors to tend to lan wangji and wei wuxian makes a face at her and mianmian sighs to herself that she really is too gay to be in the middle of his thing with lan wangji.

turns out, walking a lot and fighting a cannibalistic turtle on a broken leg doesn’t do wonders for healing. lan wangji is also the worst patient ever, he keeps trying to sneak out and get up even though word came from his brother that he’s safe and alright and that cloud recesses is starting to rebuild after qinghe nie and lanling jin came to its aid and pushed out the wen

but with the combined efforts of mianmian, jin zixuan, and wei wuxian (and even jiang yanli at one point, bc who could say no to her soup??) they manage to get lan wangji to just rest for a fucking second, really which results in the jin disciples and lan wangji staying in lotus pier for longer than anyone could’ve expected

mianmian spends most of her time (when she isn’t forcing lan wangji to just fucking stay in bed) working with the jiang disciples, practicing archery, sword forms, and mooning after all the beautiful women here.

(”lan wangji, i know she’s scary, but have you seen madam yu? she could whip me with zidian and i’d thank her” “luo-guniang, please don’t ask madam yu to whip you” OR “lan wangji, i’m almost positive madam yu’s maids are a thing, do you think they’d let me join them just like once” “luo-guniang, could you please pass me my sword?” “why” “i’d like to put myself out of this misery” OR “she made me soup. lan wangji. lan wangji, i know you’re not sleeping, wake up, you have to listen to me, this soup”)

they end up staying so long that when wang lingjiao shows up threatening a child about a kite while sect leader jiang is away, she has a lot more to deal with than madam yu. since none of this had been a “sanctioned visit” no one actually knew that there was nearly an entire troop of jin disciples staying at lotus pier, so when the wens attack they are sorely unprepared for what they’re going to face.

(and ofc lan wangji breaks out of bed heroically and keeps madam yu from whipping wei wuxian, which means they aren’t down one of their most powerful fighters and mianmian has to suffer through the moon eyes they’re making at one another in the middle of a battle no less, she knew wei wuxian had no shame but she’d been hoping lan wangji would have some)

after the wen attack (and defeat) on lotus pier and the jin’s inarguable part in it, the war starts in earnest. lan wangji, after his long rest, heals fine and goes back to gusu to help rebuild his sect and plan for war, and mianmian and jin zixuan return to carp tower to plan as well, ignoring jin guangshan and focusing instead on his general to ensure lanling supplies necessary aid in the war effort

and war is always shitty, of course, and mianmian hates watching her sect family die on the battlefield, hates waiting for updates after every battle to see who’s still alive, hates the politics and jin guangshan trying to wheedle his way out of fighting when there’s fucking lives on the line

(and she could never know, how much easier it is, with yunmeng jiang at its full strength, with one of the brightest minds of their generation there to plot and help, with two of the best fighters not out searching for someone and instead focused on the front)

they reach nightless city after months of fighting and mianmian is ready to just fucking stab wen ruohan herself when they’re suddenly trapped. blocked in on all sides by puppets, their fallen soldiers rising again to turn on them, and it--it looks like they’re gonna die.

“this sucks,” she says to lan wangji, stifling her fear and choking it down. “i never even got to kiss a girl.”

lan wangji just says “mn.”

jin zixuan, beside them, says, “i was an idiot about jiang-guniang.”

lan wangji just says, “mn.”

then wei wuxian pulls out a fucking flute and a-- floating piece of metal? the army of puppets and corpses stops advancing, held in place by-- music, apparently? and wen ruohan emerges from his lair, black energy falling off him in waves, wei wuxian the idiot flies forward to meet him, gets wen ruohan’s hand around his throat for his trouble.

lan wangji yells, “wei ying!” and mianmian thinks, really not fair that lan wangji is gonna get a boyfriend before i get a girlfriend

and then wen ruohan gets stabbed by jin zixuan’s half brother of all people. wen ruohan, along with his puppets and wei wuxian, fall to the ground. lan wangji rushes forward to catch wei wuxian, mianmian runs after him, finds herself in company with jin zixuan and jiang cheng. when they get there, wei wuxian is barely conscious but he’s-- he’s fucking grinning up at lan wangji from the cradle of lan wangji’s arms

“lan zhan,” he says, “you caught me.”

lan wangji nods, says, “mn,” which is basically his equivalent of i’ll always catch you, wei ying.

“really,” mianmian says aloud, “it’s so unfair.”

the aftermath of the war is more annoying than the war itself, what with all the politics and in-fighting and jin guangshan trying to be the biggest dick there ever was. jin guangshan tries to name himself chief cultivator in wen ruohan’s stead but nie mingjue suggests jiang fengmian instead and the lan sect backs him. jin guangshan tries to demonize the wens but at wei wuxian’s loud rebuttal and sect leader jiang’s backing (which is then backed by both gusu lan and qinghe nie) he’s once again shouted down. and then jin guangshan tries to propose to jiang-guniang for his son and the poor woman just seems so awkward and her father doesn’t seem to know what to say and--

mianmian elbows jin zixuan whose eyes widen ridiculously but, after another, harder hit, he suddenly stands. all eyes go to him, which mianmian knows he hates, but he bows to his father, then jiang yanli, and says, “jiang-guniang, forgive my father’s impertinence. this is not the time or place to be making such an offer, but he--” jin zixuan winces visibly. “--he knows of my feelings and wishes to make his foolish son happy. please, do not feel the need to respond.”

then he promptly sits down, flushing down to his neck, and mianmian shares a disbelieving glance with lan wangji from across the horrible nightless city palace room.

she’d really only meant for him to suggest jiang yanli answer privately, at a later time, but wow, jin zixuan really went for it. also no way jin guangshan knows his son has fallen in love with jiang yanli, so nice save face there. maybe he has been paying attention in all of their etiquette and political espionage classes.

jiang yanli flushes way prettier than jin zixuan and nods politely, stands and bows and thanks the jin clan for being considerate in this time of turmoil, perhaps they can discuss this matter at a later date (jin zixuan looks like he nearly faints at this, and mianmian feels vindicated in all her forlorn ranting. overreacting her ass)

when everything has been settled, wen qing has been appointed the new sect leader of qishan wen with promises to return land to those who lost it and pay reparations to the hurt civilians, as well as have the yin iron destroyed for good. during the final ceremony where all the sects have tea and pledge to be loyal to one another (until the next great war, of course) mianmian leans close to lan wangji and sighs, “her ears look even lovelier with her hair tied back by her new sect leader hairpiece.”

lan wangji says “mn” because he’s a cut sleeve in love with wei wuxian and has nothing even closely resembling taste.

mianmian, on her own, decides to make them both happy. before the jin clan departs from nightless city, she goes up to wei wuxian and asks for a moment of his time. wei wuxian seems confused but follows and, once they’re alone, he says, “mianmian, are you about to get me into bed, because i must tell you that i am a respectable young cultivator and you’ll need to marry me before--”

mianmian gives him her best unimpressed look (she’s had much practice with it, thank you jin zixuan) and cuts him off with, “i like women.”

wei wuxian’s eyes go wide. “but you and lan zhan--”

she cuts him off again before he can say something so stupid she has to stop talking to him to refrain from breaking all laws of propriety. “look,” she says, “you’re friends with wen qing. now that she’s sect leader, your brother can’t go after her. i, on the other hand, very much can. if you promise to figure out a way for me and her to get close, i’ll tell you a secret you’ll like very much.”

wei wuxian seems hesitant for all of half a second before he breaks. “tell me.”

“do you promise?”

wei wuxian raises three fingers. “promise.”

“on your sister’s life?”

begrudgingly, wei wuxian nods.

“on her soup?”

“just get on with it!”

mianmian smirks, pushes onto her tiptoes, and whispers the secret into wei wuxian’s ear. with that, she returns to the pavilion where all the sects mingle as they wait to depart, wei wuxian trailing behind her in a daze, his mouth hanging open.

lan wangji, who had been watching since mianmian asked wei wuxian for a moment to talk, frowns nearly imperceptibly. mianmian grins at him and his frown grows.

ah, whatever. she walks over to him, unbothered by the quickly growing alarm in his eyes. once next to him, she turns around to see wei wuxian staring unabashedly. her smile only widens.

“you’re going to thank me for this,” she says.

wei wuxian shakes himself, his eyes focusing, and immediately starts walking towards them.

lan wangji, voice flat but wavering, asks, “luo-guniang, what did you do?”

mianmian laughs, says, “i get to give a speech at your wedding,” and walks away just as wei wuxian reaches them.

(she does, actually, give a speech at their wedding. she may or may not be drunk during it, jin zixuan gets embarrassed for her, and she starts tearing up and has to hide it in the shoulder of her wife’s lovely well-tailored robes. it’s alright, though, wen qing doesn’t mind)

EDIT: now on AO3 with a real fic version from lwj’s pov!

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the-extra-joker-art · 3 years

Text

What You Deserve

And I ope-

May or may not have written some indulgent shit involving Deacon angst and my Sole Survivor, Happy. Really I just used Happy cause using a nameless Sole felt awkward ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I don't usually post written fanfiction, so critiques welcome!

Deacon wasn’t quite sure how long he had been chained up. He was sure it had only been a couple of days, but it felt like weeks. The Gunners that had locked him up thankfully had no idea who he was, or who he worked for, but all that did was make their visits less frequent and the long hours of the day blurrier. He was fading in and out of consciousness, hunger gnawing at his stomach whenever he opened his eyes and the numbness in his arms chained above his head was getting progressively more noticeable. Every now and again, he’d wake up to the sound of the door opening, followed by laughter and conversation, but his wakefulness would be quickly ended by a swift kick to his gut or the butt of a gun slamming against his already bloody forehead. As of right now the pain coursing through his entire body was nothing compared to the mental beating he was giving himself. He had no idea how he had gotten caught. It wasn’t supposed to be anything beyond a scouting mission; they had gotten word that a courser was lurking around a spot near Goodneighbor, and his job was to test the claim with his own two eyes. To his surprise though, the spot was actually a recent nesting ground of the Gunners. Deacon still had no idea where the courser claim came from, but he didn’t have much time to scout out an answer, because as soon as he found the camp the Gunners greeted him with a concussion to the back of his head. When he woke up, he was already chained to the wall of a windowless room that smelled of blood, vomit, and booze. He was dizzy enough already, but when more than one Gunner came in to interrogate him by adding more cranial wounds, he lost all sense of his surroundings. Apparently, the Gunners didn’t find his witty remarks charming at all. He couldn’t stop berating himself for getting caught. He was careless, he hadn’t checked his surroundings nearly enough. He should have asked around before he scoped it out, gathered intel. But instead he had to pull a Happy and rush in head first. He winced at the thought of Happy and the others. Were they worried? He was sure they would expect him to be more careful, to be more thorough. He wasn’t even sure if rescue would come in time before the Gunners decided they were done asking meaningless questions and just killed him. Deacon had fucked up bad, and he knew it. He chuckled, and gasped at the painful tightening in his chest. He was hoping he’d die a significantly more meaningful death than being killed by his own carelessness; Maybe he’d die saving someone, or blowing up the institute. At least a martyr's death would be more fitting for his chosen job, but this one seemed more deserving. Dying in the basement of mercenary bastards, without knowing if rescue would come, without nearly enough repentance for his past was just the kind of death someone liked him deserved.

“You’re a good man, Deacon…”

Deacon winced. Happy’s face flashed in his mind, the day after he had told her about his past, she looked at him differently. Almost with a look of awe, like she admired him. He couldn’t believe that even if he tried, but unlike most days, he was far too weak to stop himself of thinking of what she had said,

“You’re a good man, and I’m glad that out of everyone, you chose to travel with me.”

He wriggled against his binds, gasping in pain as the nerves in his arms started to feel again with the movement.

“The Wastelands are a little more bearable with you by my side.”

Deacon hadn’t realized he had closed his eyes so tightly, and when he opened them, he was shocked at the moisture on his cheeks. Tears ran down his face, silently falling against his filthy shirt. He couldn’t help but feel somehow this failure was letting Happy down. He knew it wasn’t, but his heart ached at the idea of her wondering why he wasn’t back yet, if she was worried at all. Again, he had no idea how much time had passed. Maybe she hadn’t even thought of him. He could imagine her helping another settlement, MacCready at her side, completely concentrated on supplying the people inside with water and defenses. Deacon's mouth twitched into a wry smile. Helping a settlement was considerably more important than saving one man from his own mistakes. He tried desperately to concentrate on the image of Happy in his mind, her face scrunched up in a smile, but he could feel his conscious slipping already. His body was going numb again, and he knew sooner or later he would fall back into restless sleep again. Using the last of his strength, he tried to think of an apology for his mistake. What he would say or write down in a last note for Des and the others, how he would thank them for making something of his life, for fighting to save so many synths. How he would thank Happy for dealing with his bullshit, and for staying with him despite everything. He would thank everyone for what they’ve done for him, and apologize for his failure. His mistakes. Again, he’s letting everyone in his life down. He blinked back tears as everything faded to black around him.

Deacon's entire body jolted as a loud crash filled the room. The sudden awakening made pain surge through his entire body, numbed limbs trying in vain to pull against his binds. He couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or not and his attempts to look for the source of the noise was met by blurred shapes. A giant shadow loomed over him, blocking the light from the door that he didn’t even realize was now open, and he groaned as he turned his head up, his gut clenching in fear as he realized the outline of a suit of power armor standing over him.

“Heh... You really didn’t have to put on your good clothes to… Finish off little old me…” Deacon forced a chuckle, his head lolling to the side. Power armor seemed a little much for killing one man, but he supposed these Gunners were the dramatic type. He tried to keep his eyes open, but his strength was wavering, and his breath uneven.

“Oh my god, Deacon…” A familiar voice came from behind the mask, “What did they do to you?”

Deacon tried to lift his head, heart racing as he recognized the voice tainted by the suit's robotic lilt.

“H... Happy…” He tried to say more, to speak more and apologize. For what he wasn’t sure, but he just felt he needed to. “I’m… Sorry…”

“Shh, Deacon. You’re okay. It’s okay.”

He barely even registered the lock on the chains being broken by the power armor's superior strength, letting out a pained breath as Happy gently placed his arms at his side. Deacon felt her wrap a metal arm around him as he began to fall to the side, his tired mind wondering how she was able to treat him so carefully in her hulking suit. He groaned and jolted when he felt a stimpack being stabbed into his leg, hand coming up to weakly grab onto her arm. He was trying to stay conscious, desperately trying to find Happy's face behind the emotionless mask.

“I’m getting you out of here.”

Her voice sounded far away, and his attempt to form a response only offered a breathy groan. His mind swam nauseatingly as the stimpack did it’s work, reconstructing the wounds the Gunners gave him, most of which were to his head. Deacon barely noticed that Happy had picked him up till they were already walking out the shattered doorway, looking down at himself to see that he was being carried bridal style, his body carefully nestled against her armored chest. He let out a shaky sigh, letting his body go limp as he realized he was safe in her arms. For a moment he was safe from his mistakes, safe from the pain that was now just a numbed buzzing through his whole body. He could feel himself slipping back into unconsciousness, but his mind filled with panic as he remembered where they were. His eyes opened wide as he looked behind them down the long hallways of the house they had dragged him through when he was knocked out, and he grimaced at the sight behind them. Blood splattered the wall of the kitchen at the end, the front door blown completely off it hinges. The bodies of the Gunners were strewn across the hall like grim decorations, themselves decorated with their own blood and bullet holes. The head of one of the mercenaries was completely blown off, his relatively fresh blood hiding the rotting wood underneath as it poured out of his body. Happy did this. She did this for him. He knew she could kill, she was an amazing shot, but something about this was different. They were more brutal, more bloody - The place looked like a Deathclaw had come through with a vengeance. In his exhausted mind he couldn’t tell what he thought of that.

Deacon felt himself losing grip on reality again, his eyelids feeling like lead as they slowly closed. He tried to keep them open, to get one more look at Happy. He wanted to thank her, to ask her if she was alright, but nothing came out. His breathing was finally evened out, and the only thing his body wanted to do was rest in the safety of Happys arms. It wasn’t a safety he deserved after the mistake he made, but he didn’t have the strength to refuse it, and he doubted Happy would let him. His head rested against the hard metal, and finally he faded to sleep.

“You got him… You got what you wanted. Now let me go.” The Gunner bastard on his knees on the front porch stared up at Happy, entire body shaking. The blood from his broken nose flowed freely, and his hands trembled. Maybe it was the fear, maybe it was the fact that she broke them under her boot. She had abandoned using her charisma to get him to help, which he was eager to do after she broke his leg too. Happy looked at him, her heated glare hidden by the tinted glass of the helmet.

“Come on! I lead you to the camp! I told you what you wanted, and you got the fucking prisoner! There wasn’t a courser here, okay? Just a bunch of useless synths!” The Gunner doubled over in pain, the effort of staying up almost too much for the shattered bones in his leg.

“You piece of shit… You say that like it’s supposed to make it better. Do you know who this is? His name is Deacon, and he’s a member of the Railroad. This man saves synths. He risks his life every day just to save someone he doesn’t even know from the Institute.” Happy turned away from the Gunner, “But you wouldn’t understand that, would you? No. You’re just a greedy bastard, you’re no better than a radroach.”

Happy looked down at Deacon, bloody but peacefully asleep in her arms.

“No, you wouldn’t know the first thing about saving someone. About risking your life for another. You don’t even know about loving anyone, do you? You’ve never loved anything in your life, besides bottlecaps.”

The Gunner let out a pathetic sob, looking up at Happy with fear in his eyes.

“Please! Just let me go! I... I’ll never take another job again! I’ll never even pick up a gun again! Please!”

Happy went silent, just staring at the man in her arms. She was never going to let the Gunner go, not after what he helped do to Deacon. There was only one person here that deserved mercy, one person who deserved the chance to repent for their crimes, and he was nestled gently in her arms, completely unaware of the conversation going on right now. She thanked whatever gods existed that he was unaware of what she had done to find him. Without another word she pulled out her gun and shot the Gunner in the head, his lifeless body hitting the porch with a thud. The blood pooled from his wound, eyes open in a now eternal expression of shock. She holstered the gun again as guilt pinged at her heart strings, feeling a lump in her throat when she looked at the dead Gunner. He had complied to her demands and betrayed his entire gang to show her the way here, and he deserved better than a death by her hands. Who was she to judge that he deserved death? To claim that he had never loved anyone? Happy didn’t even know who he was, or his real name. He was just a filthy Gunner to her. The guilt faded as she looked at Deacon. Of course he deserved a bullet to his head - He had helped take something very precious from her. She already had so much taken by greedy fuckers like him who just wanted to line their pockets and hurt someone who didn’t deserve it, and gods know Deacon didn’t. Even if he thought he did.

Happy stepped off the porch, looking ahead at the path illuminated by the moon ahead of her. She’d do that a thousand times again if she had to. She’d put a thousand bullets in anyone's head if it meant keeping one more person she loved in her life. That Gunner was just another Kellogg, the only difference was he wasn’t nearly as important. Happy would do this a million times more if it meant keeping Deacon by her side for just another day.

End.

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nestasgalpal · 4 years

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Folklore (Nesta Archeron Fanfiction)

Peace

Nesta and Clare shared many kisses over the last years together, but each day the distance between them grew, both girls knowing what their destiny was meant to be. Two of those kisses had been underwater, the same summer Clare tought her how to show affection with her lips. Nesta and Elain didn’t know how to swim, so the farmer’s daughter tought them. She always invited Feyre to come along, she was too kind not to, but Feyre hardly ever accepted the offer. There was tension between Nesta and her youngest sister, and the afternoons she spent laying with her friends while Feyre went hunting where the cause.

Back when they arrived to the village it was Feyre who finally decided they wouldn’t die without trying everything to survive first, so she tought herself how to set a trap and started going to the first lines of the forest to test them. Then, she made weapons and started to go further into the woods. Nesta spent the days in bed crying their loss, not caring about Feyre hunting some rabbits. When she realized her sister wasn’t traping little rodents anymore but shooting arrows to full grown deers, she felt it was too late now to intervene.

“I could show my concern, but then... what? What was I supposed to do next?” she frequently thought

Nesta knew she would die in a heartbeat, as would Elain, neither of them could do what Feyre had learned to do. So she allowed her little siter to do the work.

And she got so used to it, at some point she forgot she was the oldest one. She met Clare, Tomas and a few more girls from the village, and realized that having friends made her life better. Elain, who was as polished as Nesta, fitted in, but Feyre, too tired to try, didn’t. So she, once again, left her behind.

Nesta felt bad, but she needed the spark of joy their company provoked so badly, she decided to put herself first. It was not only the company, but the sense of superiority it gave her knowing nobody arround her could live up to her. Around them, she was a lady, admired, even if she was wearing a worn-out grey dress. Starving was not the only way to die; it was deffinetly not the way Nesta feared the most. She was scared of the growing feeling inside of her that she was wasting her days, rotting, going to waste, so she held tight to the few moments of joy she could find

Feyre was rotting too, Nesta knew it and it geniunly hurt her, but still, she did nothing. Every time she realized Feyre’s pain, she felt it was too late. Every time, she considered the idea of being honest with Feyre, she recoiled, thinking her words would make no difference. Yes, Feyre would know her oldest sister was even more misserable then she tought, but it would still be her the one to come back to the woods looking for food. Every time, she took the easy way, and every time, she ended up regreting it and still doing nothing about it the next time.

Yet Clare always invited Feyre to go with them, no matter how many times she was rejected or how rude Feyre’s response came out. Clare always had a smile for her.

Clare’s happyness made Nesta’s days a little brighter, even if she was permanently sad. She tought both Elain and her how to swim, and once they mastered it, they would have diving competitions. That’s when they dared to kiss. Her sister had to count the time from the shore, and both of them woud “hold their breath under water”.

But they kissed, and that made Nesta skim true joy with her fingertips.

Almost there. She was almost there, when they pressed their lips together.

When their last autumn together came, they only thing they pressed together ere their forheads, silent tears runing down their faces. Every touch they shared in the past, a secret they would never tell.

Nesta and her sisters were forced into adulthood that year, summer gone with their lack of responsabilities. Winter coming, filled with loss.

“If I had only known” Nesta thought now, unable to sleep because of the cold of the Mountains.

They were 21 now, many years had passed, but the dynamic between Clare and her had stayed the same. They were friends. They looked at eachother with sad longing, knowing they would never get more than that.

They would talk about boys.

“I heard Tomas’ dad hits his mother” Nesta murmured. The streets were covered by orange and red leaves in addition to the usual mud.

“Yeah, I heard the same thing” Clare’s voice was raspy, her cold getting worst.

Elain and Nesta were holding hands. The three of them were walking down the street towards the market.

“But you will still marry him, right?” It was Elain, who didn’t raise her voice either, so her words were hard to catch.

“He hasn’t asked me to” Nesta repied.

She had always hated talking about boys -men, now-. She didn’t want to leave the fantasy of being welthy again so she could find someone better; maybe she could become welthy enough she didn’t even have to marry at all. But time passed, and she was being forced to put her feet back to the ground.

Would she marry him knowing her future was probably gonna be the same one Thomas’ mother was enduring now?

Yes, she would.

Because even if his family was poor, the Archeron were even poorer. Feyre had to go deeper and deeper into the forest to come back with something, and the winter was starting early this year. She felt like there wasn’t much she could do to help her, but this -marrying Tomas so her sister could rest-, this she could and would do.

“He will ask you soon, I’m sure” Clare said.

Nesta had to lean over a little to meet her eyes, since Elain was in the middle and she was slightly taller than both Clare and her.

“He might choose you, Clare, he likes you too”

“He won’t” her friend was sure. “When we meet, the only thing he does is talk about you. To be fair, you are prettier. I would say you are the most beautifull girl in the village”

Nesta’s cheeks would have gone red if it wasn’t too cold for her face to be hot.

A few weeks later, Nesta woke up to Elain shaking her. He was gonna propose to her, had finally told Clare she was not the one, and the first thing her friend had done, of course, was run to the Archeron’s house to tell her. Elain opened the door, so she and her father already knew.

“He is gonna ask you to marry him, Nesta!” Elain was euphoric. She was happy for her, because, after all, Tomas was good looking and nice. Nesta didn’t love him... she was not sure if she even liked him, but he had been polite and conformed himself with kisses from Nesta, nothing more. His kisses weren’t nearly as good as Clare’s, but she never complained. They were still good.

“Get up, Nes!” Claire was just as excited. Was she glad it wasn’t her? Was she happy for her own freedom now that she had been rejected, or was it true happiness? “Come on, dear, you have to get dressed, he could ask you any moment from now!”

Nesta obeyed and cleaned herself up. She felt pretty, that much was true. Even with her swollen face, she still recognized enough of her mother in herself as to feel like a proper lady; that helped her forget where she actually lived and who she was about to marry.

They were chatting about the imminent proposal when Feyre arrived, grumpy as always, and tried to ridiculized them for focusing in such things. If Feyre knew why she was doing it she might be nicer about it, but Nesta never got to tell her. As always, she felt it was too late now to share her feelings with Feyre, like the bond between them had vanished the moment she left for the woods and Nesta stayed in bed crying insted of going with her. If she shared her real thoughts and intentions now, Feyre would probably laugh at her, and Nesta’s heart couldn’t afford to be humilliated like that.

Nesta still wouldn’t have blamed Feyre for doing it. She understood why the proposal seemed so unimportant to her sister.

Nasta hated to talk about boys too.

But when she came back to the memory now, after her sister exiled her, she really wished she had told her, because that night their lives changed forever: Feyre was taken from them, stolen, and, again, Nesta could do nothing. The sister she knew, the one she failed to protect once, was lost forever, and the idea of Nesta that Feyre had in that moment, apparently rooted in her mind so deep, there was nothing she could do to change it now. She would live forever, and no matter what she did and how many times she sacrificed herself, Feyre’s love would never return to her.

What broke her heart -and Nesta really felt in that moment that it was shattered beyond repair- was Feyre warning her about Tomas and what his fatehr did to his wife. Feyre, who risked her life to protect them day after day, who Nesta thought hated her, would rather keep doing it for the rest of her life than let her marry the woodcutter’s son. Nesta, who was already aware of what Fayre was warning her about, would have also sacrificed the rest of her life to make it up to her youngest sister. But now, Feyre would never know.

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This chapter was inspired by Peace, which I thought martched how Nesta might have felt about Feyre by the time she was taken by Tamlin. It’s not a literal translation of the lyrics, but I don’t know, I get the same vibe. Listen to it and tell me what you think, I appreciate the feed back!!

Nesta never shared with Feyre the same sister love she had with Elain, but I think she loved Feyre just the same. I think Nesta hates to talk about her feelings, she keeps them to herself and feels like it’s too late now to tell Feyre she loves her, like it will leave her exposed, so she won’t do it just to avoid the posibility of Feyre laughing at her or even just rejecting her. “All these people think love's for show/ But I would die for you in secret/ The devil's in the details/ But you got a friend in me/ Would it be enough/ If I could never give you peace?”

I think when Nesta realized Feyre’s sacrifice (go hunting) she realized Feyre had given too much for the family to ever make it up to her and felt even worst, but still was unable to verbalize it, so regret just burned inside of her. (“Your integrity makes me seem small/ You paint dreamscapes on the wall”

#nesta archeron #nesta archeron fanfiction #nesta archeron fic #nesta archeron fanfic

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kasterisk-of-the-void · 4 years

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Act 1: Sayu -- Sailor Ningyo

{I finally finished the first part of Sailor Sayu!! I’ll be writing this like how the Sailor Moon Crystal episodes go and how it mirrors the manga! I don’t have AO3 atm but eventually I’ll put it up there too. Anyways~ happy reading~!} --Kasterisk

The sound of an immensely loud phone alarm erupted throughout the house, completely shattering the serenity of the morning. After a few minutes of ringing, a sleepy hand sluggishly dragged its way across to press the "off" option. A voice from the downstairs called out once silence was regained. "Heyyy! You better be getting ready for school up there or else you're going to be late!" Of course this would fall on deaf ears as a sleepy figure slowly rose up from the cutely decorated bed sheets. Upon closer inspection, the drowsy figure was revealed to be a young girl with messy white hair. She blinked her vibrant eyes awake in her sleepy daze. "What time is it...?" She mumbled, glancing over at her phone. Grasping it she opened up the home screen to see...uh-oh. "Oh no! I really am going to be late again!" She exclaimed, throwing the covers off her body in a hurry.

Who exactly was this girl that was warned of being late? Well, the answer is simple. This is Sayu, a sixteen year-old teen who's attending her tenth grade year in high school. Unfortunately, her attendance record never seemed to be pleasant, given that she was throwing on her uniform haphazardly every morning. She thundered down the stairs hurriedly, not even eating breakfast before she was already out the door. "I have to go now bye-byeeeeee!!" The woman that was her caretaker sighed softly while she watched the young girl dash down the street. "I swear with that girl..." She lightly laughed, adjusting her glasses to read the latest news report about the current fixation of a beautiful heroine in Vinyl City.

"I'm going to be in trouble again!" Sayu whined while sprinting as fast as her legs could carry her. She couldn't get herself out of trouble knowing that her teachers would scold her for being late more frequently these days. However, due to not paying attention in front of her, she felt her footing slip and immediately hit the concrete. "O-Ow..." She rubbed her head in pain before looking behind her to see what made her trip. Wait, was that a cat?! A wave of guilt immediately washed over her as she leapt upwards, scooping the cat into her arms. "Oh no I'm so sorry little kitty! I didn't see you there!" She apologized to the animal with teary eyes. Yet, the cat didn't seem to be so focused on the injury, instead it was scratching at the objects placed upon its head. 'Huh...that's strange. Why would a cat need band-aids?' She thought with a puzzled expression. The cat seemed to be very bothered by them...maybe she should take them off?

Apprehensively she undid the band-aids by peeling them off the cat's fur. Yet, as soon as she did, the cat quickly leapt away from her and onto a wall. Sayu turned her head to see the cyan-colored creature staring right back at her. When she looked at the cat's forehead she was met with the sight of a golden music note right where the band-aids were. "That's one strange birthmark..." She whispered, mesmerized by the cat's gaze. Suddenly, the sound of the school bell went off around the area, quickly snapping Sayu from her trance. "Wait!! I'm almost there please don't count me as late!!" Sayu shouted, running towards the school gates in a futile attempt to be there on time. She shouldn't have gotten so distracted with that cat and now she was going to be in even more trouble!

And she was exactly right. Upon setting foot into her classroom, she was immediately sent back into the hall by her teacher who was fuming at her. "Oh my...late again...and I promised that I would get better at that!" She lamented as she stood alone. Not too long after, Sayu received her lecture from her teacher as well as her last test grade. Needless to say, her grades were also in need of a desperate spruce up. Even her classmates and friends were having a much better time with their schooling than she was. Though, if you asked her personally, she would tell you that she wasn't exactly so focused on school like how she should. After all, she wanted to make relationships with her peers and have tons and tons of friends! It was a simple wish she had ever since she was little.

Come lunchtime, Sayu sat with her peers as they talked about their various topics and interests. "So have you heard about that music store that got robbed that one time? Well, turns out that Sailor E was the one who saved it. Ironically, that same store is having a sale after all the hoopla." Sayu's classmate, Gigi informed the group. This made the white haired girl perk up in interest. "Really? Sailor E is always doing good things for other people!" She replied, slipping some shellfish into her mouth. Another girl then stood up as she posed dramatically to likely fantasize about the ordeal. "We just have to go down there! Can you imagine all the songs and music styles we could have if we go?" "Of course you'd be the most excited, Celine." Sayu giggled happily while the others joined in laughter. Lunchtime eventually ended and so the students went back to finish the rest of their day.

Later on that afternoon, the group did end up going to the music store that Gigi mentioned. They all stared and fawned over the seemingly endless amounts of records and big brand instruments...and apparently so did all the adults! In fact there were so many people there it became hard to even get in. Sayu sighed, glancing down at her test that she held in her hands. There was zero chance that she would get anything nice with such a bad score like that. Maybe next time she could get a better score in order to get cool music stuff like the others? "I can't show Miss Barbara this...she'll be super duper mad that I flunked!" She said as she folded up the paper and tossed it away from her. Though instead of landing it into a trashcan, she ended up hitting someone behind her with it! "Hey-- my gorgeous face isn't a trashcan!"

"Huh--?" Sayu turned around to see where the voice was coming from and was met with the figure of a guy. He had white hair almost exactly like her own, including a few strands that seemed to stand alone like her cowlick. His eyes were a vivid white with black sclerae, and his body seemed to be...mechanical? Well it wasn't that strange given that there were tons and tons of different people these days. If anything, Sayu found it incredibly neat! Although, the tuxedo he was wearing kind of gave her the thought of a grandiose party to be attended.

A moment of silence passed between the two as they kept staring at each other. About five minutes had passed and the stranger broke eye contact with her to look at the folded up piece of paper. "Wait please don't-!!" But it was too late for Sayu's plea as the other was witness to the dreadful test score. "Wow, a 30 point test grade? You really should study more often, maybe I could tutor you?" He chuckled with a grin on his face. Sayu blinked her eyes at him, stunned. 'How mean!!!' She thought angrily in her head and quickly snagged the test away from him. "You're so mean! You don't need to look at that!!" She retorted, running away from the tuxedo wearing male. He watched her dash away from sight...though it appeared that his attention was drawn towards the bustling music shop. "...Maybe I will find what I'm looking for here." A mutter left his lips for no one else to hear.

However, to both parties, neither would know of the nefarious plot festering inside the store by the salesperson at this very minute. 'I'll collect all the minds of these people to only support the power of rock, and soon our takeover will begin.' It thought quietly while it watched the citizens browse and buy almost every record the store had. Little did it know though, one purple haired girl seemed to be quite nosy about where all these special items were being stored...

Meanwhile with the now downtrodden Sayu, she still dwelled on the horrible test she had. She needed to desperately distract herself from what just happened with that...who even was he anyway? He could surely use some more kindness in his life that's for sure. Walking along she managed to catch sight of the local arcade, one of her favorite places to be in. She always favored the bright colors, the hues the building gave off, and how much fun others were having. In a way it was like her home away from home. As she stepped inside, her face instantly lit up when she saw her favorite worker. "Zam!! Hi hi!" She waved rapidly to greet the bearded man. The said man looked over to see his favorite customer with the same energy she had. "Sayu! Just gotten out of school for the day? Are you here to play your favorite game again?" He asked, rustling the girl's hair. Sayu burst into a fit of giggles as she nodded her head in response. Zam then pointed to the DDR game in the middle of the machines. "Lucky for you, you're the only one really here today so you can go crazy as much as you want!" It didn't take more than a second before Sayu was already turning on the game and stretching her legs. When she had time to play, she liked to dance and even sing some of the songs provided by the arcade game. Zam watched the young girl dance around with enough energy to power up a whole house, still smiling. She was his favorite customer by far, he even cheered for her to get new high scores when she played.

Sayu ended up spending hours upon hours playing the game until her feet nearly gave out. Time really flies when you're having fun, huh? The girl hopped off the dance machine, a yawn leaving her lips. "I should go home, it's been a loooooooong day." She said softly while picking up her stuff. "Alright, be careful on the way back! And don't forget-- hm? Now what do we have here?" A sudden meow sounded through the arcade, gaining the attention of the worker and customer. Once they peered over a counter Sayu gasped with surprise. It was the strange kitty cat again! "It's the cat from this morning! Hello Miss Kitty, I hope you're not mad at me for earlier!"

'Huh…' Zam scratched his head lightly with a puzzled look, gently knocking his headphones. "This cat has been lingering around here for a few days, not sure why though." He explained to Sayu. The cat in question stared deeply at the girl as soon as she laid eyes on her. Sayu in turn really wanted to play with it but she really needed to be heading home. "Sorry kitty but I can't come play with you, I gotta go home! I'll see you tomorrow Zam, bye!!!" She waved farewell to the man and the mysterious cat, quickly exiting the building.

Whilst she made her way home, in another part of town a crime was happening. That very same store that she visited earlier that day was being ransacked by the very salesperson who was running it. "I have enough power to take back to home base, I shall keep looking for the important disc here." The robotic drone spoke as it searched and made a mess of the main sales floor. As it searched, a creaking noise resonated inside the large room, making it obvious that someone else was present. "Woah...what is all...huh?" The robot eerily turned to Celine, who really showed up at the wrong place at the wrong time. The girl didn't have much time to run before she was caught in a scuffle for her life.

Albeit while that was happening, Sayu had finally returned home for the evening. She of course had to tell her caretaker about the test score...in which she did indeed get a big lecture about it. Completely worn from the lecture and all the events from today, Sayu flopped onto her bed from exhaustion. "I'll get my homework done...another time..." Her words slurred as she soon drifted off to sleep. The girl curled up in her bedsheets, completely immersed into her dreamstate. As she sunk deeper into her dreams, she found herself in an odd setting. She was fighting against what appeared to be a monster of sorts, using crazy signal moves as if she was in a video game. To make matters weirder, the same cat with the weird birthmark from before was just up ahead, trapped in a cage! 'Wow, this reminds me of...the game at the arcade! Wait, am I...?' She pieced the dream together as she used powers that activated just like how her favorite game operated. Using her dream powers she ended up defeating the monster and saving the cat. As she moved forward, she soon realized that she couldn't exactly feel her legs move. 'What--?' She glanced down slowly at her lower half, only to discover that she no longer had legs! Before she could get out another question, she was instantly reawakened by the sensation of something scratching her face.

"Owie!! Where did that--" "Ooh, you're finally awake! And by the way, it's not a birthmark." Turning her face to the right side of her bed, Sayu was met with the small figure perched on the window...which was revealed to be a cat. The same exact cat she had seen multiple times, only this time with a large pink hat. She was even wearing a pair of cute pink sunglasses! Wait a second, did that cat just talk?! "I have been looking everywhere for you, Sayu! My name is Daphne, and you have been chosen to become a sailor guardian!" She said happily, all the while Sayu sat astounded. A sailor guardian? What was that?? Was she still dreaming right now??? "Y'know I didn't expect kids from this planet to use their time like that to bully a cat. How rude of them." Daphne continued with a slightly annoyed tone, "Oh but I have to thank you so much for removing those band-aids they put on me. When they were on, I couldn't tell which way I was going nor where to find the chosen one. So once again, thanks a bunch sweetheart."

Sayu couldn't believe what was happening right now. There was a talking cat, in her bedroom, telling her it's her magical destiny to become some kind of guardian. If that wasn't extremely dreamlike that she didn't know what to tell you. "...And I'm not dreaming, right? You really mean it?!" She asked, a look of eagerness in her eyes. Daphne giggled at the girl's question and removed something from her hat. Out of the hat came a sparkling (yet very unusual) golden brooch, decorated in symbols and gemstones. "This is now yours, Sayu. Please take it!" She insisted for the girl to try it on. Sayu gently picked up the item and placed it over her school ribbon."Oh my gosh, Daphne this is so pretty! Thank you so much!" She thanked the cat, almost forgetting about the bizarreness of the situation.

Daphne then cleared her throat as she observed the girl move around. "Now listen to me, Sayu. There have been strange things going on in Vinyl City, stuff that the police can't figure out. Your mission is to find your allies who will aid you on the quest to defeat your enemies! Another task of your mission is to find and protect the princess and--" She wasn't able to continue her explanation before the pendant Sayu put on began to glow brightly. "Daphne, it's glowing!! What should I do?" "Alright, repeat after me!! As loud as you can, say 'Pyun Prism Power!'" Sayu took a minute to remember the words and took a deep breath. Raising her hand high, she put in all the passion that she could. "PYUN PRISM POWER, MAKE UP!!"

In what appeared to be a powerful whirlwind, Sayu felt her body become encased in ribbons and light. She felt a surge of power rushing through her body as she let the magic of the brooch complete the transformation. Her body became weightless like she was turning into a bunch of feathers dancing in the wind. Seconds later, the light dissipated and she was set back down to the floor with a new sensation gripping her mind. "W-What happened? I feel so different!" She stuttered with outright confusion, glancing down at her outfit. Though the shock from the outfit was the least of her problems when she looked past the skirt, a gasp following suit! "I-- I have a-- I have a TAIL! Oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh!!" She squealed with sheer excitement as she moved her new fins around the room. It was as if she was an actual, real mermaid. She could move through the air so effortlessly like she was directly underwater; this was all too good to be true! Daphne smiled at the new guardian who seemed to be just as eager to take on this new destiny like she was.

Alas, the time for joyous celebration was cut short by the abrupt beeping of Sayu's hair ornaments. "Huh? What's that?" She quizzed as she tried to focus on the origin of the noise. It didn't take her long before she realized that she could hear the familiar voice of her friend Celine, screaming in fear! "That's Celine! She's in trouble, I have to help her Daphne!" She cried as Daphne nodded her head. Surprisingly enough, Sayu was able to move rather well in her new form even if it was her first time transforming. Quickly making way out of the house undetected, the duo rushed to the scene where Celine was currently fighting for her life. The fashionista girl felt the air leaving her lungs as she tried to desperately escape the grasp of the rock-aligned fiend. "L-Let go of m-me!!" This made the mechanical being squeeze her tighter. "You just had to show up at the wrong time, foolish girl. Now just go ahead and--" The robot's threat would go unfinished as the doors to the store flew open! "Let her go, you evil person!!"

The drone slowly turned its attention to the doorway, catching the sight of the young mermaid clad in a stylish sailor fuku. "Who the hell are you?!" It screeched, stopping the strangulation on the other girl. Sayu stopped for a moment, realizing that she didn't even have a name for her superhero self. 'Oh I should've thought of something when I was getting ready! Ummm...' Daphne glanced over at Sayu and then pointed to her shimmering multi-colored tail. This gave the mermaid an eureka moment as she posed dramatically! "For love and for justice, I am the pretty sailor-soldier: Sailor Ningyo! And in the name of Love, I'll punish you!!" She declared, the moonlight behind her illuminating her form. Regardless of her powerful speech, the drone was not impressed with the new super heroine. "Sailor Ningyo? There is no knowledge of you in my systems. No matter, awaken minions, arise for your dark lord and kill this troublemaker!!" It didn't take long until the store was completely surrounded by those who became brainless zombies due to the power of rock hypnotism. Sayu glanced to her left and her right, dodging all the attacks the hypnotized citizens made in order to end her life. "You have to fight back Sailor Ningyo!" Daphne shouted but Sayu was still struggling in dodging all the blows. "I don't know what to do!! Oh-- U-Um-- maybe--" As she became even more surrounded, the girl took in another deep breath while closing her eyes. "LOVE LOVE SAYU PYUUUUUUUUUUUN!!!"

The frequency of Sayu's voice was so ear piercing that she shattered the glass windows around her, deafening her opponent in the process. The brainwashed people collapsed to the ground thanks to the sound waves she produced in the cutesy attack. "Nicely done Sailor Ningyo!!" Sayu heard an unfamiliar voice cheer but she didn't have time to search for the source as Daphne leapt beside her. "Now's your chance, Sayu! Throw your tiara and shout 'Pyun Tiara Boomerang'!!" Tapping the golden tiara on her forehead, Sayu watched it transform into a glowing spinning disc in the palm of hand. Raising her arm backward she aimed it directly at the enemy and let it fly! "Pyun Tiara Boomerang!!" In one swift hit the tiara slashed straight through the robot, rendering it to a pile of nuts and bolts on the floor. "I did it!! Wait, it was a robot??" There were so many questions that bounced around Sayu's mind about this whole scenario entirely. Truly, what was going on? "Well, it appears I won't be finding the disc here, but at least I saw something to stifle my breath for a little while." The same voice from earlier caught Sayu's attention once again as she looked up to the windows.

A masked figure clad in what she would describe as "phantom thief" attire leaped into the air towards the outside. His cape blew into the wind in his grand exit like it represented the night sky. He gazed back at her, a soft smile adorning his features. "I'll give you my name to remember. My name is Tuxedo White, it's been an honor to meet you Sailor Ningyo~!" His tone was ever-so charming and friendly, making her feel comforted somehow. Maybe he was her ally too? She sure hoped so, he looked like he was definitely against the bad guys! ...Though, was he actually here the whole time before she even got here? Instinctively she swam her way out of the store to catch a glimpse of the masked man one last time before he dashed away into the night. Daphne at this moment looked over all the unconscious people that were waking up from their hypnosis. It was a good thing the first battle went well...though, this was only the beginning. "I hope you're ready for more battles in the future, Sayu. This is only the first fight and-- dear are you listening to me?" With a sigh the cat tugged on Sayu's arm, pulling her away from the scene whilst the girl kept daydreaming about what more was to come!

The next day at school, Sayu listened to Celine gossip and retell the events of that night. "And just when I thought I was going to be done for, a mermaid wearing a sailor suit beat up the bad guys! And did I mention she looked so adorable doing it? Cuteness kills! Oh but I didn't get to really see her face…" She shouted, almost exasperated. The others around her gave her a questionable look. "You sure you weren't dreaming it like that time you dreamt about Sailor E?" Kayane asked with a confused look on her face. This in turn made Celine furious as she claimed it to be true. Sayu throughout the story smiled away with a newfound giddiness. She couldn't believe that she did all that! Who knows what adventures lie ahead of her and her new friend Daphne? And would she see that mysterious Tuxedo White again? The possibilities were endless!

...Still, somewhere far away from her school and the planet, a figure was replaying the events from last night. "Sailor Ningyo...she's got some nerve to get in the way of the plan." The figure muttered as a smirk formed on his metallic face. "Whatever, it won't stop me from getting that Legendary Disc. No matter what it takes." He spoke with the air of malice and determination, a pair of red eyes fading away into darkness.

#Sailor Moon au #nsr sayu #nsr #No Straight Roads #fanfiction #nsr au

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celestianstars · 5 years

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The Blacker the Berry the Sweeter the Juice (Ch.1)

Viktor Drago x Asha Creed (Black Female OC)

Summary: Asha Creed isn’t a stranger to the boxing world and isn’t keen on the attitude displayed by many men in the sport either, but when she meets Viktor Drago, suddenly her interest has never been more piqued

Based off this request. Thank you for this idea anon!

Warnings: none just slight tension and fluff this chapter

Word Count: 2,694

Note: This takes place at the end of Creed II and right after!

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Asha could hear the muffled rumble of excited fans in the stadium, waiting for the fight to begin.

She was a confident woman, knowing and trusting in herself and her abilities but the few minutes leading up to the walk out always spiked her nerves.

“You’re one of the best upcoming MMA fighters out there and you’re a Creed, place your fear behind you.” the words of her coach echoed in the back of her mind as everyone cleared the room and let her have a moment of quiet.

Usually she wouldn’t bother even looking at her phone during these moments but her brother, halfway across the country was about to enter the ring too.

It made her nervous. This rematch with the Drago kid made her stomach churn as she pictured how bruised and mangled Adonis had been in the hospital after the first fight.

It broke her heart to see him like that. She told him not to take the fight in the first place, reasoning that everyone knew what had happened between Apollo and Ivan and the world would forgive him for not seeking vengeance in the ring.

But Donnie had his mind made up from the start and nothing was gonna change that.

The last thing she sent him was a good luck message and an I love you and she prayed things were going well. She wasn’t sure if she could handle him being injured so badly again, especially now that he had a daughter.

Exactly one minute till she would be walking out into the ring and she needed to push all this aside and stay focused.

She sent Bianca a final message to let her know how things went and pushed her phone away to take a couple deep breaths.

She had her own match to win.

---

It had only lasted three rounds before she’d delivered a knockout punch and sent her opponent straight to the ground.

Relieved and feeling very confident, Asha eagerly finished all the interviews with various sports channels and hurriedly made her way back to the locker rooms to see what had become of Donnie.

He’d won, thank god.

“They should be playing highlights by now.” she whispered to herself as she turned on the tv in the locker room.

She could tell he was fighting with something different in his technique. He was sharper, more adapted to fighting someone as brute as Viktor, and the changes paid off. She grinned at how well her brother wore the belt.

Highlights of the fight began playing and she would by lying if she said she wasn’t glued to the screen watching the two men trade jabs.

She was in awe watching such a big man fall to the floor twice, struggling to get up the second time. Her attention shifted away from her brother and onto Viktor, now hanging onto the ropes.

He wasn’t looking towards Ivan or the rest of his team but rather towards the crowd and suddenly the reason why clicked into place for Asha. He was looking for his mother in the crowd, no doubt she showed up to the fight.

Given the history between their families, Asha had taken it upon herself to do a little research on Viktor and Ivan and discovered that his mother had left them when he was a boy and Ivan was forced out of Russia as a disgrace, leaving him to raise his son in Kiev.

She followed his line of sight and saw empty seats, a kind of sadness for Viktor coming over her. His mother had left again.

Yet, he still pulled himself up off the ropes to continue the fight. There was no way he was going to win, he was just punching with no strategy now, desperate and probably hurt in too many ways to count.

The highlight reel then flashed to Ivan throwing in the towel, effectively stopping the fight which made her gasp in surprise. She hadn’t expected that from him. Ivan seemed like the kind of man that would keep pushing his son to the limits to obtain a victory but not this time. She was grateful.

It seemed like the longer it went on, the more reckless and hurt Viktor became and for both him and her brothers sake, she was glad the fight was stopped.

While she was happy and excited for Donnie and his win, she couldn’t help but watch Viktor in the background, noticing how he kept pushing his father away every time he tried reaching out.

There was that odd sadness for him again. He was drained and emotional and hurt and she didn’t need to hear what they were saying to see that. He seemed lost.

Asha was past viewing the Drago family as bad people for what happened with her dad but she couldn’t help but feel like she was in the wrong for hoping that Viktor could find some comfort because he looked like a scared little boy.

She shouldn’t be thinking about him like that, should she? She couldn’t. She’d get it out of her head in no time.

Two Months Later

After a mini vacation, Asha was back to training and that meant early mornings getting ready for the gym and making sure her dog, Jet was fed before she left.

The pitbull was like a child to her and she would much rather stay in bed a few extra hours to snuggle with him but hitting punching bags and sparring with her coach was calling her name.

Like usual at this early hour, the gym that had become a second home to her was alive with the sounds of her coach instructing some of the other athletes already there. Without fail, all their heads turned to eye her as she walked in.

She was aware half of them wanted to get in her pants and she’d have to turn down more than a couple advances before she left for the day since none of them could take a hint.

Though she was an MMA fighter, boxers still ran in her circle of acquaintances. Her brother was probably one of the only boxers she could stand, but the rest tested her on the daily. Always so cocky and obnoxious and none of them were after her for a committed relationship either, that was one thing she was sure of.

It was a tragic realization for her that fighters were her type and the following year of trying it out with a few of them had left her heartbroken and slightly more cynical than she had been before, so now they were just completely off the table for her.

No way in hell was she gonna let one of them get close to her again.

---

“Hey uh, Ash? You haven’t texted me back about getting dinner this weekend. You still down?” Eric came striding over to her.

He was one of the worst ones. Persistent and dumb as a bag of rocks.

“Hey uh, don’t call me Ash, it’s Asha, you don’t know me like that. Second, I don’t wanna have dinner with you, I never did and told you that when you first asked, did you forget?” she arched an eyebrow at him and began wrapping up her fists with padding.

“Ah come on, don’t be like that. You seem like you haven’t gotten some good dick in awhile, let me take care of that for you.”

The amount of self control she possessed every day not to knock out one of these fools was beyond her.

“Whether I’m getting dick or not doesn’t concern you so delete my number and don’t talk to me ever again or I’m gonna fuck up your face. Don’t try me, Eric you’ve seen me in the cage.” giving her best smile she flipped him off and grabbed her gym bag to move to a different, more peaceful spot.

She was aware she came off as mean to most people, especially to men, but in all honesty she was glad. It was more of a defense mechanism than anything else really, her actual personality was more kind and soft but in this business, being tough on the outside was a better look to have and a better way to protect yourself from being hurt.

Being an “Ice Queen” was proving to be effective so far so why let her defenses come down? She was too stubborn to do that.

As she cleared her head of thoughts on her lonely, frustrating love life, or lack thereof, she focused on getting warmed up.

She enjoyed this process almost more than actual training. Just laying on the floor, stretching her limbs, feeling the ground beneath her, feeling focused as she practiced stances and did basic exercises to get her body prepared.

This was really her element, the thing that made her feel calm and good about herself. And the sounds of people working and improving around her only motivated her.

But of course, things just couldn’t go her way without interruption for once. There was always something.

“Hey, what the fuck does he think he’s doing trying to train here?” Asha was pulled from her focus at the sound of her concerned coach walking towards her.

She looked at him in confusion before looking out towards the front entrance of the gym, nearly choking on her own spit when she saw the big, hulking figure of Viktor Drago in the gym’s tiny door-frame.

He stood still but looked slightly alarmed, like he wasn’t aware of who’s gym he’d just stepped into.

“That’s a good question actually, care to answer, Drago?” Asha crossed her arms, slowly walking in a line straight for him.

Viktor had so many thoughts racing through his mind he barely caught her question.

He was kicking himself for being so stupid and forgetting that Rocky and fighters in his circle frequented this gym but it was the only one within a few miles that was open this early. And then second, he was speechless at realizing who the woman stalking towards him was. Adonis’ sister.

He’d never seen her in person before but now that he was staring her right in the face he was left scrambling. She was stunning.

Her hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail and her crossed arms showed off the toned muscle she had, and the expression on her face was hardened and suspicious of him but nonetheless she was beautiful. He couldn’t believe he was feeling this way, especially about a Creed.

“Sorry...I can leave if this is problem.” he cleared his throat, beginning to back away.

“Yeah you should leave, we don’t want you here-” her coach began to speak up but Asha cut him off.

“Stop! You can stay, actually. No hard feelings from me.” her voice felt timid at first but she found her footing, blinking rapidly as she found that holding eye contact with the 6’4 giant was becoming difficult.

She wasn’t even sure why she did it but she was being honest. There were no hard feelings towards him. She held no grudge and frankly it was exhausting trying to find reasons to dislike him when she had none.

Viktor was surprised. He had been in contact with her brother quite frequently since their last fight, a kind of distant and awkward friendship building between them but he knew that didn’t just make everything ok. There was still a lot of baggage between their families.

He thought she might yell at him, threaten him or kick him out, he had put her brother in the hospital once before, he would understand why she was angry with him stepping foot in her gym but she wasn’t. She actually looked like she wanted him to stay.

“No hard feelings from me.” rang through his mind as he ignored the looks of disdain from the other athletes and found a spot to set his gym bag down.

He still hated how he’d forgotten that this was basically the Creed’s gym. Ivan had warned him, told him to just wait till another gym opened for the day but he had a restless night and woke up tired and forgetful and with Ivan gone scouting potential fights, he figured some of his itch to be reckless seeped into his otherwise controlled routine.

Asha wanted to take back her acceptance of Viktor staying to train here, of course, he just had to set his stuff down next to where she was gonna try and resume her warm up.

She hated that she kinda liked that he’d chosen to be next to her whether he was aware of it or not.

It wasn’t like she was trying to appear sympathetic to him but something in her just seemed to melt at his presence. She could just feel this heavy sadness and loneliness radiating off him and she understood it, it mirrored some of the heaviness in her own heart.

And then there was the way he carried himself. Like a gentle giant, not at all like the other boxers she was accustomed to meeting who were too egocentric and self centered to be around.

He was quiet and very different from the rest, like she could read all his emotions but still knew nothing about him at the same time. It made her curious.

Viktor’s heart skipped a beat as she began working on the punching bag not even a few feet from where he stood. He felt restless, distracted even.

What was it about her that made him feel so jittery? He couldn’t quite place it but maybe it was how she didn’t seem afraid of him.

Everyone he came into contact with was afraid of him but not her. She held her head high when she had spoken to him and even now that he caught her glancing at him, she remained strong and almost unimpressed.

Viktor was sure she had to feel conflicted, why else would she look so stern with him but let him stay and train? Like she wanted to hate him but couldn’t.

He’d made up his mind right then and there as he watched the bag wobble from her hits that he should keep his distance from her. It would be better that way, avoid any conflict or weird feelings.

At the same time, Asha was thinking the exact same thing. Stay away from Viktor Drago. Stop glancing at him, stop thinking about him, just avoid him.

---

Ten minutes later and she’d already fucked up her plan to stay away.

Upon hearing that her usual sparring partner was out sick and her coach was in the middle of something with another fighter, she whipped around to find Viktor wiping sweat from his brow.

“Hey, um I could use a sparring partner, Drago. Think you can help me out?” she cringed inwardly. What was she thinking?

Viktor could feel his hands go cold. She was speaking to him again, only softer this time. He liked her voice.

He could say no, he could leave and end this whole tension filled encounter but his feet kept him planted in place.

“Yes. I’ll do it. And...just call me Viktor, it’s ok.” he wasn’t aware of how close she’d gotten until he was looking down at her shorter height.

“Thanks, I appreciate it, Viktor. You can call me Asha.”

Asha. Another beautiful thing about her, her name.

He needed to stop thinking that way but the thoughts kept coming and he wasn’t exactly sure he wanted them to stop.

He was so caught up in a daze about her that without warning he felt her twist his arm and pull, his back hitting the mat beneath them with a loud thud. Asha had pinned a man nearly three times her size in an arm bar within seconds and he couldn’t do a thing but blink in surprise.

What they said about her was true. She could kick some ass and was very good at doing so.

Viktor decided that he liked Asha even more now. She could hold her own.

---

I’m so excited for where I wanna take this story! Let me know what you think, please! And like always, thank you for reading my work!

Also Ryan Destiny is who I picture as Asha but please feel free to imagine her as yourself!!

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Tags: @themyscxiras @chaneajoyyy @wittysunflower @amirra88 @lady-olive-oil @fumbling-fanfics @designerwriterchic @dc41896 @endless00paradise @oceanscorazon @champagnesugamama @ml0103 @mimigemrose @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove @beaminglife @jojolu @avfug @earthsmightiestasses @crushed-pink-petals @titty-teetee @lifesaverslipstick-n-melanin @kati-1997 @vipredrum @forbeautyandlife @captstefanbrandt @skinnyevilcunt @veryhellshdia @amelatonin @jbrizzywrites @xo-goldengirl @tgigoldie @quaint-and-curious @yaint-me @savvy-ivvory @hold-me-like-a-heart-beat @masked–empress @blowmymbackout @captainsamwlsn @carefreebarnes @harduy @carefreebarnesmainaccount @breddiefrooks @curvynsweet @vvigilantes @est1887 @p-writes @thorohdamnson @ellixthea @lovelymari4 @littlesouthernrebelle @uhlxisback @blackandnoir @wildfirecracker @natashacoco

#amalia writes #viktor drago x asha creed #viktor drago fanfiction #viktor drago x black reader #viktor drago fics #viktor drago x woc #viktor drago x reader #viktor drago imagine #viktor drago oneshot #viktor drago x oc #viktor drago x poc

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bluewatsons · 5 years

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Michael Goldberg, Dennis Wilson: The Beach Boy Who Went Overboard, Rolling Stone (June 7, 1984)

He was the wild one. He could never get enough of anything: drugs, women or booze. But in the end, he had nothing

Dennis Wilson from the Beach Boys, 1970

It was almost midnight on Christmas day, 1983, and Dennis Wilson’s head was a bloody mess. The thirty-nine-year-old Beach Boy had been beaten up by a male friend of his estranged wife — nineteen-year-old Shawn Love Wilson — at the Santa Monica Bay Inn. Wilson had checked himself out of the detoxification unit at a local hospital and had been drinking in the area when he ran into Shawn’s friend, with whom he picked a fight. He lost that fight.

Several hours later, drunk and puffing on a cigarette, his face a ghastly gray, Wilson was vowing revenge outside St. John’s Hospital and Health Center in Santa Monica. “I just want to go down. there and kick his ass,” said Wilson in a gruff croak. “Call the cops. Close the place [the Santa Monica Bay Inn] down. Bust everyone.” Steve Goldberg, a close friend who had brought Dennis to the hospital, did his best to calm him down.

Inside the hospital, Chris Clark, another buddy of Wilson’s, was on the phone, trying to convince Dr. Michael Gales to readmit Wilson, an alcoholic and drug abuser, to the hospital’s detox unit, from which the Beach Boy had checked out earlier. But Gales didn’t want to have anything to do with Dennis Wilson.

“He’s just too much trouble,” Gales allegedly told Chris Clark.

“He may die, you know,” Chris Clark told Gales.

“He might have to,” the doctor allegedly replied.

Three days later, on December 28th, Dennis Carl Wilson was dead, his body pulled out of the cold, murky water of nearby Marina Del Rey. Toxicological tests showed Wilson’s blood alcohol level to be 0.26 at the time of death — more than twice the legal limit for driving. A week after his death, Dennis Wilson’s ashes were sprinkled into the Pacific.

“Dennis Wilson was the essence, the spirit of the Beach Boys,” recalled Fred Vail, a longtime business associate of the band’s. “We used to think of him as the Steve McQueen or James Dean of the group.”

For one thing, Dennis was the only Beach Boy who knew how to surf. He was also the band’s sex symbol. But while he was breaking hearts at their live performances, he wasn’t always playing on the records.

By the time the Beach Boys’ fifth hit single, “Little Deuce Coupe,” was released in 1963, Dennis was frequently being replaced in the studio by session drummer Hal Blaine.

It apparently didn’t bother Dennis that Blaine was drumming on the Beach Boys’ records. “I think as soon as the checks started rolling in, Dennis had other things,” says Blaine. “He was buying things; he was appreciating his motorcycling and hobbies and so forth. When you’re sixteen years old and you’re literally handed millions of dollars, you get crazy.”

And Dennis Wilson loved to spend money. “He was a Sixties type of person,” said Robert Levine, his personal manager. He wasn’t concerned about materialistic things. He would give away clothing, money. . . .”

Wilson was famous for letting people crash at his house — when he had one. In 1968, Charles Manson and his “family” moved into Dennis’ Sunset Boulevard home. By then, Dennis had divorced his first wife, Carole Freedman, and was participating in orgies and other debauchery under Manson’s direction. During this, period, he also tried heroin for the first time. The Manson Family spent $100,000 of his money and wrecked an uninsured $21,000 Mercedes. But rather than kick them out when things got too heavy, Wilson himself split, moving in with Gregg Jakobson, a friend and musical collaborator.

Wilson’s involvement with Manson was not atypical in at least one respect: The drummer loved to flirt with danger. In the early Seventies, he would drink a six-pack or two, smoke some grass, then get in his jeep and drive through the desert at top speed with the headlights off.

“Whatever he did,” said Chris Clark, “he did in excess.” Including sex. Dennis was a notorious womanizer; he was never able to remain faithful to one woman. “He called himself ‘the wood,'” says one friend. The wood? “Yeah,” the friend said, gesturing to his crotch.

Even his manager acknowledges Dennis’ satyriasis. “Dennis was a sex fiend, plain and simple,” said Levine. “The man used to think more with his sex organs than with his brain.”

Wilson was married five times, and had filed to divorce Shawn — the illegitimate daughter of his cousin and fellow band member, Mike Love — a month prior to his death. He is survived by four children: Jennifer Beth, by his first wife, Carole Freedman; Carl Benton and Michael Dennis, by his second wife, Barbara Carol Charren; and Gage Dennis, by his last wife, Shawn.

Wilson’s relationship with actress-model Karen Lamm was by far his craziest. Their first date was in 1974 at Mr. Chow’s, a Beverly Hills restaurant. “He reached over and grabbed my right breast and said, ‘Great tits!”‘ Lamm remembers. “I ran to the bathroom; I was so humiliated. I thought, ‘I never want to see this guy again.”‘ But Lamm and Wilson saw each other for the next six years, a period during which they were married and divorced twice. “We were so out of control,” said Lamm. “It led to a very wild existence with each other.”

Indeed. Like the day in 1975 when Wilson hit Lamm, prompting her to fetch a.38-caliber revolver from her house. She had decided to put on an act to keep Dennis in line. “You get your ass off my property and don’t come back,” said Lamm, waving the gun. Then she shot a hole through the side of their Mercedes, just missing the gas tank. Lamm says they both broke up laughing. In 1978, Dennis drove Lamm’s Ferrari down to Venice Beach and, in another fit of rage, doused the interior of the car with lighter fluid and torched it. “Then he went up to a house on Venice Boulevard and played the piano while it burned, like Nero,” recalled Steve Goldberg.

ll was not wanton destruction while Dennis and Karen Lamm were together. Dennis’ most creative period came in the mid-Seventies, when he wrote and produced a marvelous solo album titled Pacific Ocean Blue. Released in 1977, it sold a respectable 200,000 copies.

Wilson recorded about half of a follow-up album, though most of the songs were never finished. “Dennis was not what you would call a completer,” said Levine. Part of the reason may have been his use of heroin. According to sources close to the band, Dennis had started to use the drug in 1978, and during a tour of Australia that year, he was allegedly sharing his supply with Brian. At one point, the drummer checked himself into a hospital under an assumed name and cleaned up, but his overindulgences were creating problems within the Beach Boys.

Toward the end of 1978, Wilson took up with Fleetwood Mac’s Christine McVie. The romance began while Fleetwood Mac was recording Tusk. “Dennis walked into the studio one night and whisked me off my feet,” McVie recalled. The two went out for nearly three years, and Wilson even moved into Christine’s house in Coldwater Canyon. “It was probably the experience of a lifetime. Dennis was such a character. Half of him was like a little boy, and the other half was insane. A really split personality.”

With McVie, Dennis was both a great romantic and a drug abuser and alcoholic. He had a heart-shaped garden planted at her home in 1979, and at a surprise birthday party the following year, Dennis hired a symphony orchestra to serenade her as he sang “You Are So Beautiful.” McVie and Wilson sang and wrote songs together at the piano. They considered recording an album together, and she dedicated a song on the last Fleetwood Mac LP, Mirage, to him.

Still, along with the romance and good times came bouts of drunken destruction, when Wilson would storm through the house breaking anything within reach. “He used her place like a hospital,” said Steve Goldberg. “Then he’d call me, I’d go and pick him up, and she wouldn’t see him for a week. When he was totaled out — he wouldn’t sleep for a week — he’d go back. Over and over again. He cared about her, but his priority was having a good time.”

In 1979, the Beach Boys had had enough. Dennis was frequently missing tours, and when he did show up, he was often too messed up to play. Finally, he was kicked out of the group.

When his business affairs in disarray, the drummer hired Levine as his business manager. Within a year, Levine also became Wilson’s personal manager. “It wasn’t the easiest situation,” said Levine. “He was heavily in debt when he came to me. The whole gamut. Two years of back taxes. He owed everybody in every store money. We set up a program where it took us about two and one half years to work down the most pressing debts.” In 1980, Dennis rejoined the Beach Boys and began to tour again.

By the beginning of 1981, Wilson and McVie had split up. Dennis moved into a house in Venice Beach with his seventeen-year-old daughter Jennifer and some other friends. “Things got real bad,” said Steve Goldberg, who was also living at the house. “When he was living at Christine’s, he was doing a lot of coke. [The drinking] kind of started to ease the shakes from the coke. By the time he moved to Venice, he was carrying around a ready-mixed jug. It just progressed to a continual drink.”

Up until his death, Dennis Wilson would show up at the Venice Beach home of Garby Leon, a friend with a doctorate in music composition from Harvard. There, Dennis, Garby and sometimes Brian would hang out and make music late into the night, with Brian on Hammond organ and Dennis on grand piano or harp. During that time, Brian wrote nearly an album’s worth of material.

But, Garby Leon says, the other Beach Boys didn’t like Dennis and Brian’s new songs. In late 1981, the Wilson brothers spent a few days making demos of several songs in the studio, but money to pay for the sessions was cut off.

It was while Dennis was living in Venice that the affair with his illegitimate second cousin, Shawn Love, began. Shawn, then sixteen, recalls showing up at Dennis’ house in Venice with a mutual friend.

“What’s your name?” asked Dennis.

“Shawn,” she replied.

“What’s your dad’s name?” asked Dennis.

“Mike.”

“Mike what?” he asked.

“Why?”

“Just tell me who your dad is,” insisted Dennis.

“His name is Mike Love.”

Then, she recalled, “he started talking to me like a big brother. He said, ‘It’s not safe for you to tell everybody who your dad is.’ All of a sudden he changed the conversation. At first, some people thought he was coming on to me to get at Mike.” Soon they were living together.

Dennis did go back on the road with the Beach Boys, but it was rough for everyone. Bodyguards were needed to keep Dennis off the bottle prior to performances. When he drank, he could be boorish onstage, as well as an erratic drummer. There were raging battles between Dennis and Mike Love. Finally, restraining orders were issued to keep them apart.

Wilson used to get a kick out of hassling Love. Once, on the way to a concert date, Wilson walked up to the area on their private jet where Love was meditating, pulled open the door and threw up.

By the end of 1981, Dennis and Shawn’s relationship showed signs of strain. “He was acting like a real punk,” said Shawn. “He was drunk and high. It was embarrassing to me. One of my girlfriends told me he was trying to take another girlfriend to bed.”

Shawn was furious. “I ran up to him in the alley, and I just slugged him in the face,” she said. “I came up to him like, ‘I am going to kill you.’ We got into a full-on fight. He didn’t actually punch me, but he had me down. He dragged me by my hair.”

Despite the ongoing friction, Dennis and Shawn were married in July 1983, nearly a year after their son, Gage Dennis, was born. By the fall of 1983, there wasn’t much of a relationship left. Scrawled in crayon on the walls of their house at 6120 Trancas Canyon Road in Malibu were the phrases “No love” and “No respect.” The house was a shambles. Doors were broken. On one occasion, Shawn nearly drove her silver BMW into the front door. Less than a month before he died, Dennis smashed the windows of the same car with a baseball bat.

Dennis and Shawn separated. “I left partially because of me and Dennis not getting along because of personal things — jealousies and stuff,” said Shawn. She moved into a $150-a-week room at the Santa Monica Bay Inn, a stone’s throw from the drug connection Dennis Wilson turned to when he needed cocaine. A divorce was in the works at the time of his death. Shawn claims that they were working things out, but adds, “We probably would have been together, then apart again.”

***

In 1982, the more business-minded beach Boys — Carl Wilson, Al Jardine and Mike Love — and their manager, Tom Hulett, felt there were two big problems that had to be solved: Brian Wilson and Dennis Wilson.

Brian had ballooned to over 300 pounds. He wouldn’t bathe, he would eat and then throw up his food, and if drugs were around, he would use them. He was, as one associate put it, “extremely nonproductive as a human being.”

The task of curing Brian eventually fell, as it had once before, to psychologist Eugene Landy. Landy had once worked for a fan magazine, Teen Screen, and was later a record company A&R man before becoming therapist to the stars. In 1976, he became a celebrity for his role in getting Wilson out of the bedroom and into the recording studio. Eventually, Landy was fired when he allegedly began asking for a percentage of the Beach Boys’ income and wanted to become active in the management of the group.

Nevertheless, it was Eugene Landy whom Tom Hulett turned to. Though Hulett refused to be interviewed for this article, he told the Los Angeles Times last summer that he had Brian Wilson’s interest at heart when he enlisted Landy. “I told the other guys in the band that if we didn’t do something, Brian was going to be the next headline (death) in Billboard.”

In late October 1982, Brian Wilson was told by his accountants that he was broke and that he owed the government tens of thousands of dollars in back taxes. A week or so later, at a meeting attended by Mike, Al and Carl, plus various managers and accountants, Brian was fired. He was handed a letter dated November 5th, 1982, that read, in part: “This is to advise you that your services as an employee of Brother Records, Inc., and otherwise are hereby terminated, effective immediately.” Though it was signed by the four other Beach Boys, Shawn Wilson claims that Dennis didn’t know what he was signing, if indeed he signed it at all.

“They told him that the only way that he could be a Beach Boy again, and the only way they would release his 1982 tour disbursement money, was if he would agree to see Dr. Landy,” says Brian’s girlfriend, Carolyn Williams, who was present at the meeting. “Brian started yelling that he didn’t like Dr. Landy and that [Landy] was charging him $20,000 a month the last time. He was willing to see anybody to get the weight off, but he didn’t want to see Landy. And they said, ‘Well, no, you have to see Dr. Landy. That’s the only way.”‘

A while later, Brian was taken to Hawaii to begin a program with Eugene Landy. Brian remains under Landy’s care to this date; his fee is rumored to exceed $50,000 a month. Landy has recently become the Beach Boys’ “recording manager” and may share song writing credits (and, thus, royalties) with Brian Wilson on the next Beach Boys’ album. Because of his relationship with Brian, Landy actually told a reporter from California Magazine, “I’m the one who’s making the album.”

The three Beach Boys and their manager then apparently turned to the other problem: Dennis Wilson. “When they put Brian in the Landy program,” said Shawn, “A couple of our friends said, ‘Dennis, as soon as they have Brian done, they’re going to try to do the same thing with you.’ He said, ‘No, they’re not going to do anything.”‘

Dennis was wrong.

Mike, Carl, Al and manager Hulett had already banned Dennis from some concerts during 1983. Finally, Dennis was told he would not be allowed to tour with the band unless he went through a detox program. “Which was okay,” says Levine. “They were all interested in helping him. I was in full agreement with that.”

To hear Dennis’ Venice Beach friends tell it, the rock star was literally put out on the streets. For a month prior to his death, Dennis was without a home. He had no car and little money. He lived a nomadic life, crashing with various friends. “If Dennis had had a place to live, he might not have died,” said Garby Leon.

At least one member of Dennis Wilson’s immediate family agrees. “I feel if Dennis had had a place to stay, he might not have been down in the marina that day,” said his daughter Jennifer.

Though Bob Levine feels Wilson was fairly serious about straightening out his life, Steve Goldberg maintains he was just telling people what they wanted to hear. In late November, Dennis checked into a country club-style therapy center in Arizona. He left after two days.

Over the next month, he bounced from friend to friend. There was a scene outside an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, where Wilson and Beach Boys manager Tom Hulett argued about money. Hulett reportedly pulled out a wad of bills, peeled off fifteen dollars and offered it to Wilson, who wouldn’t take it. Hulett threw it on the ground. The next day. Hulett apparently gave Wilson $100.

On Friday, December 23rd, Dennis Wilson checked into St. John’s Hospital and Health Center in Santa Monica. Dr. Jokichi Takamine, the doctor caring for Wilson at St. John’s, says that “he was very serious” about the program.

Wilson and Takamine spoke at length on Saturday; the doctor says he told Wilson he would be away on Sunday, Christmas Day, but would see him on Monday.

But Dennis checked himself out of St. John’s Hospital early in the evening on Christmas Day. Although Shawn had apparently agreed to come to the hospital with Gage to visit, she never made it. “He just showed up at my mom’s,” said Shawn. “He said he was really lonely and that he wanted to be with us on Christmas.”

He spent about an hour with Shawn and Gage, then left. A friend bumped into Dennis walking along the road near the Santa Monica Bay Inn. They went for a drink at a club. It was later that night that Dennis stopped by the Santa Monica Bay Inn and was beaten up by Shawn’s male friend. After being denied medical attention at St. John’s hospital, Dennis was admitted to Daniel Freeman Marina Hospital at around two a.m. He spent the night.

Wilson checked himself out at 11:30 a.m. the next day and called Steve Goldberg an hour and a half later. “He was at a beer bar two blocks down the street He wanted me to drive down and pick him up,” said Steve Goldberg. “I told him I was working on my van and said, ‘Why don’t you just walk over here?”‘ He kept calling me back. He wanted money and a ride. He ended that conversation [with the word] termination. Click. I don’t know if he was referring to the conversation, our friendship or his life.”

***

On Tuesday, December 27th, at about eight p.m., the phone rang on Bill Oster’s boat, the Emerald. Dennis wanted to visit. The old friends had been out of touch for nearly a year, but Oster was happy to hear from him and agreed to pick up the Beach Boy and the girl he was with, Colleen “Crystal” McGovern.

Wilson had met Oster, a mechanical engineer, a few years earlier when his boat, the Harmony, had been docked next to the Emerald at a Marina Del Rey slip. After Wilson lost his boat, Oster hid a key on the Emerald so Dennis could have use of the boat. Dennis had called Oster from Colleen McGovern’s house in Culver City. McGovern was a casual friend; she and Dennis had been seeing each other only for a few weeks. After talking with Oster, Dennis was excited. “He said, ‘We’re going to the boat; we’re going to have a good time. And tomorrow I’m going to go to detox,”‘ recalled McGovern.

When Oster picked the couple up, Dennis said, “Gotta get a bottle.” They stopped at a liquor store, Wilson bought a fifth of vodka and some orange juice, and they drove to the boat.

Oster, his fiancée, Brenda, McGovern and Wilson sat around in the boat’s small cabin that night, reminiscing and drinking. At one point, the conversation turned to Dennis. Oster told the Beach Boy, “It wasn’t six months ago that I said to Brenda, ‘I hope the next tune we see Dennis, it’s not at his funeral.” Wilson looked right at Oster and said, “Don’t you worry about that.”

“We talked about his alcohol rehabilitation, detox and why he didn’t want to go in,” recalled Oster. “He said, ‘They won’t let me back in the band until I do it.” He didn’t like the atmosphere [at St. John’s]. There was a place in New Mexico he was willing to try.”

Wilson was drinking heavily. “If anybody else had been drinking the way Dennis was drinking, they would have been smashed,” said Oster. “But Dennis drank like that normally. I don’t think I ever knew him sober.”

At about midnight, Dennis passed out. He slept fitfully. “Dennis was just sweating like I’d never seen him sweat,” said McGovern. “It was just dripping down his face. I was mopping his forehead constantly.”

McGovern eventually fell asleep, but was awakened an hour later by Wilson. “I could see right away he was wound up again.” Wilson made several phone calls, apparently including one to Shawn. “Dennis and I ended up staying up all night,” said McGovern. “We would sleep a few minutes, then he would wake me up again. Every once in a while he’d say, ‘Honey, what are we going to do?’ And I’d say, ‘We’re going to get some sleep.’ And he would say, ‘I can’t sleep, ‘I can’t sleep.”‘

The next morning, the foursome sat around talking. At about ten, Oster suggested that he and Wilson go rowing. “We set it up, put the oars in it,” said Oster, “and he’s wandering around. ‘I want a drink, I want a drink!’ The girls had hid the stuff. He finally found it and mixed himself another drink.”

They returned an hour later; at noon, they had turkey sandwiches. Wilson had consumed three-quarters of the bottle of vodka by this point. When he spilled a drink on his pants, Oster loaned him a pair of cutoff jeans. That’s when Dennis began diving into the slip next to the Emerald. He surfaced and handed Oster an old piece of rope.

“That was the first thing he brought up,” recalled Oster. “He kept diving down, scrounging around, bringing up junk. Why he was doing it, I don’t know.”

Wilson came out of the fifty-eight-degree water after twenty minutes; back on the dock, he was shivering and his teeth were chattering. He sat in front of a heater inside the cabin. His friends brought him towels, and after about fifteen minutes, he stopped shaking. He ate another sandwich and had another drink.

Then he made a few more dives. He found a silver frame that had held his and Karen Lamm’s wedding picture. He had thrown it off the Harmony in 1980, when they were divorced.

“He was really excited,” said McGovern. “He said, ‘Guess what I found! A chest of gold!”‘ Back on board, the Beach Boy sat around for about two and a half hours, relaxing and drinking. He finished off the fifth of vodka. He was talking about what he thought was at the bottom of the slip: a tool box, the “chest of gold,” a sack of silver dollars. “He was psyching himself up to go back in after his treasures,” said Oster. “I told him there was nothing down there. We tried halfheartedly to talk him out of going back in. There was no I talking him out of it.”

At some point, he found a bottle of wine on the boat and drank from it. Around four p.m., Dennis was ready to go back in the water. But first he walked to another houseboat on the other side of the dock in search of booze. He managed to talk a friend into giving him a partially filled fifth of vodka and had another drink.

Then he made his last dive. Oster was standing on one of the slender piers that extend between the docked boats, across the slip from the Emerald. From there, he saw air bubbles. “I saw him come up to within two feet of the surface,” said Oster. “Then I saw him swim behind my rowboat, where I couldn’t see his face or what he was doing. I think I heard him take a breath of air.”

Oster called out, “Dennis, what did you find?” There was no response.

“At that point, I saw him go straight down and back out of sight. I said to myself, ‘That sucker’s playing a game on me, he’s trying to hide.’ That was my fatal error. Because that was the last time he went down. I took a few puffs on a cigarette, waiting for him to come up. Didn’t hear or see anything. So I quietly walked around to my side of the empty slip. I didn’t see him, so I stomped on the dock and made a whole bunch of noise and said, ‘Hey, Dennis, where are you? Ha ha. I can’t find you.’ Still no response. Then I started looking. It was just clear enough that you could look under all the docks and see if there was an object under there. There were a lot of places where he could have come up and hid.”

But when Dennis didn’t surface, his friends became worried. Oster was going to dive in himself when he spotted the harbor patrol. According to the autopsy report, “The harbor patrol searched the waters for approximately thirty minutes before finding the body. The time that the body was pulled from the water was approximately 1745 hours [5:45 p.m.]. Dennis Wilson was pronounced dead three minutes later.

***

“We are not disbanding,” announced Carl Wilson at an L.A. press conference on Monday, January 9th, twelve days after Dennis Wilson’s death. “We are postponing currently scheduled dates during this period of mourning.”

Regardless of their personal feelings about Dennis, the Beach boys will continue — and at least one member thinks the band will be stronger. “A chain is only as strong as its weakest link” is how Mike Love characterized Dennis’ effect on the band during his decline. “Dennis had his problems: drugs, alcohol. . . .”

Now middle-aged men — Love is forty-three; Brian Wilson, forty-one; Al Jardine, thirty-nine; Carl Wilson, thirty-seven; and Bruce Johnston, forty — the remaining Beach Boys are caught in a bind. Their last studio LP, Keepin’ the Summer Alive, sold fewer than 200,000 copies, and the band members have reportedly been unable to hang onto their money. (Mike Love filed for bankruptcy last year.)

As a result, they must tour constantly to afford their extravagant lifestyles. So, to no one’s great surprise, the Beach Boys were performing at Harrah’s, a casino in Lake Tahoe, a little over a month after Carl’s announcement.

Renewed concert activity is not the only front the Beach Boys are now active on. A million-dollar deal with Vestron Video to make a home video, The Complete Beach Boys, has been made. Culture Club producer Steve Levine, who has recently spent time working on music with Brian in Jamaica, will produce a new Beach Boys album in London. Recently, the Beach Boys aimed up on the soundtrack to Up the Creek. A collaborative Beach Boys-Four Seasons single titled “East Meets West” has been cut, and the band is pairing up with international pop star Julio Iglesias on a remake of the Hollies’ “The Air That I Breathe.”

At the late show at Tahoe, Brian Wilson did not perform. The others, backed by an eleven piece-band, including a horn section and two drummers, offered an unexceptional rerun of the Beach Boys’ oldies. With the exception of “Rock and Roll Music,” which reached Number Five on the pop charts in 1976, and a couple of tunes off Carl Wilson’s solo albums, the Beach Boys performed music that was nearly two decades old.

Toward the conclusion, the band sang a weary version of “Fun, Fun, Fun.” Conspicuously absent was any mention of Dennis Wilson. The period of mourning was apparently over.

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quaememinisse · 4 years

Text

After Baby

Pairing: Bucky x OFC

Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort, love

Summary: Bucky and his wife struggle to get intimate again after having their first child. Based off another series I wrote, available on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2799851/chapters/6284765

“No—Bucky, stop,” Cherise groans, pulling at his hands where they’re glued to her hips. He wasn’t thrusting too hard, but she couldn’t get comfortable, again. He makes this saddened sighing sort of moan, pulling out, and lying beside Cherise where she had fallen on her stomach.

“That position hurts, too?” he asks her gently, looking at her with worry. Her face is shrouded by her hair and when he hears her sniffle, he sits up abruptly, pulling her hair back.

“Cherry?”

She blinks at him through tears before wiping them away hastily. His erection dies immediately. He frowns, feeling so guilty.

“I’m so sorry, Cherry. I didn’t mean to—”

“I know. I know,” she breathes with frustration.

“It’s been almost ten weeks since you had the baby. It shouldn’t still hurt you when we have sex,” Bucky explains gently, rubbing Cherise’s back. She smiles at him, but he can tell that she’s trying to hide how much pain she’s in.

“I just don’t understand it and I’m fucking frustrated, James,” Cherise admits, “Christina was a C-section. I didn’t even have to actually give birth. Why?” she asks, sullenly, turning away from him. Mentally, Bucky slaps himself for coming out of the shower and trying to get intimate with his wife, wishing he had just watched the news with her and gone to sleep instead.

“Baby, maybe it’s time to go to the doctor—”

“I don’t want to do that.”

“But Cherry,” Bucky sighs, “You just had a baby. There’s no harm in going in to check and see that everything is alright. This pregnancy was really hard on your body…”

“M-maybe I just need more time to heal,” she explains, grabbing a tissue off the nightstand and wiping her nose. Bucky can’t stand to see tears in her eyes because of something he was doing.

“This is starting to really worry me. What if something is wrong inside of you, and that’s why it hurts? I don’t like that it hurts you every time we try,” he admits sadly.

“I’m just frustrated,” she explains, lying on her side, facing away from him. Doggy style never hurt Cherise, and they even continued to have sex that way up until the month before she had to have an emergency C-section. Tonight is one of a handful of failed attempts they made at trying to revive their sex life over the past two weeks, each time it ending with Cherise telling him it hurt, and Bucky felt bad. He knew it wasn’t an issue of his size; Cherise could handle his girth. It had never caused her any discomfort before, unless she was too eager to get to penetrative sex and didn’t allow herself enough time to tent for him. But he knew it wasn’t a lack of foreplay the last few times they tried.

“Cherry, please. I know that you’re crying. Let me take you to the doctor,” Bucky begs, inching closer to her and rubbing her thigh patiently.

“I’m so sorry. I feel like an asshole,” he adds.

“You’re not an asshole. It’s not your fault, Bucky.”

“Well, it is. I got you pregnant in the first place.”

He sighs.

“Will you please just go and let the doctor take a look? It’s not just because I miss you…” he squeezes her thigh and she finally turns around to face him, “I don’t want you to be in pain. That scares me.” Cherise cups Bucky’s handsome chiseled jaw, finding his eyes to be holding back tears.

“Okay,” she says.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, kissing her forehead. It didn’t matter that she didn’t blame him, he had felt badly about her suffering through a difficult pregnancy and as a result, not being able to enjoy intimacy. Bucky had begun to fear that it would be this way for the rest of her life. He couldn’t forgive himself if he broke her. It was never his intention. Though they had wanted their daughter with every fiber of their being, having her took a bigger toll on Cherise’s health than either of them ever foresaw might happen. Cherise tries to remember the last time she comfortably had sex with Bucky and she starts to understand his concern as well.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, rubbing her side.

She smiles at him, but the worry doesn’t leave his face.

Cherise hated pelvic exams. Her first one had been somewhat traumatic. She recalls being in her early 20s and having a case of PID, which she was sure was brought on through using one of the washing machines in her dorm when she was in college, or the wrong kind of detergent. She had a sensitive body to begin with. The doctor had been handsome, which made it all the more embarrassing to deal with when she cried out loud and nearly jumped off the table because the speculum was too big for her and there wasn’t a smaller one available at the time.

In the present, Bucky standing stressed out by her head doesn’t make it any more comfortable. He finally stops wringing his hands and places them on both of Cherise’s shoulders, so that she has an upside-down view of his blue eyes, their daughter cooing pleasantly in the corner in her carrying seat. On the way, Cherise had explained to Bucky why she didn’t want to come in for this, and even though he felt for her not enjoying pelvic exams, he wasn’t going to let her continue on like this.

“When did you first attempt intercourse since after the baby?” The doctor asks from down between Cherise’s legs, which are open, her feet in stirrups. The doctor draws the overhead light closer to get a better look. Cherise swallows hard.

“Eight weeks,” Bucky answers without hesitation, looking at the doctor for a second. Cherise jumps a moment.

“Hey, just look at me, honey,” Bucky says sweetly, planting a kiss on her forehead. He had thoroughly explained to the doctor beforehand that Cherise had a difficult time with pelvic exams and was nervous about it.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to give you something for anxiety and we can wait until it kicks in, Mrs. Barnes?” The doctor asks kindly, standing up so that she can make eye contact with Cherise.

“N-no. I’m breastfeeding. I don’t want anything to go into my milk,” Cherise explains, lifting her head.

“If you think you need it, I can give you something that is safe for while you’re breastfeeding,” the doctor bargains. Cherise shakes her head. She just didn’t trust risking anything affecting hers and Bucky’s daughter. Bucky kisses her head again.

“Okay. If you’re sure. I just need you to hold still for about 30 seconds or less. I’ll try to make this as quick and painless as possible.”

“Just take deep breaths, baby,” Bucky whispers, rubbing her shoulders and trying to distract her.

“You’ve got a nice supportive hubby up there,” the doctor comments, only wanting to help get Cherise to relax more. He plays with her hair, something that always feels good, and Cherise closes her eyes, taking a big inhale.

“Vaginal sex usually rough or gentle?” the doctor asks. Cherise can’t see her husband blushing when she suddenly feels the speculum insert inside her and open. She gasps, grabbing the sides of the table.

“You’re okay,” Bucky reassures her. To her relief, this isn’t as painful as she feared it would be.

“Uhmm…we-we mix it up. It’s never too rough for me,” Cherise explains, taking another deep breath.

“She likes it pretty rough, but I don’t usually start that way,” Bucky admits, “And I certainly haven’t been rough since she had the baby.”

“Sounds good,” the doctor says, “I’m just going to do a quick swab—almost done,” she promises.

“Any bleeding with penetrative sex when you’ve tried?”

“She bled a little bit the last time we tried,” Bucky explains, and Cherise can hear the worry in his voice. She sighs with relief once the speculum is out of her and she sits up, Bucky rubbing her back comfortingly.

“So, your C-section scar looks pretty good,” the doctor begins, “but I did notice a polyp on the cervix. It’s not that big, but those can happen sometimes and can cause bleeding. This may be what you’re finding painful with intercourse. We can remove it and once you’ve healed up, you should be in the clear.”

“Is it dangerous?” Cherise asks, “Cancerous?”

“I’ve seen and removed many polyps, and this one doesn’t strike me as cancerous or anything to be worried about,” the doctor explains, and Cherise can feel the tension leaving Bucky’s hands.

“Any idea what caused it?” Bucky asks, and it’s almost as if he’s convinced it’s there because of him.

“The cause of these is typically unknown, but I think what happened is that it may have developed sometime between your pregnancy and delivery. We tend to see these more frequently in women who have had babies, usually women a little older than your wife, but it’s still possible.”

“So, you remove it, then she’ll heal and be okay?”

“Yes. That is the prognosis I can confidently give you,” the doctor beams, nodding, “But I did do a swab, on which I’ll run a few tests to rule out any infections.”

“Thank god,” Bucky sighs. Cherise breathes a sigh of relief.

“In the meantime, we can schedule an appointment for the procedure before you leave,” the doctor adds, interrupted by little Christina’s crying. Bucky picks her up out of her carrier and starts to bounce her comfortingly. She almost immediately stops crying. Cherise smiles.

“You have a beautiful baby girl. Congratulations again,” the doctor explains. Cherise shakes her hand, thanking her. Bucky hands the baby to Cherise and thanks the doctor as well, shaking her hand.

“When you’re ready, just speak with the front desk to schedule the procedure, and I’ll see you again soon.”

“You hear that, baby? Mommy and I are gonna be able to get started on your little brother or sister in no time!” Bucky explains, talking to their baby. Cherise shakes her head.

“No more babies,” she laughs. Bucky giggles before kissing her temple. He didn’t really want to put Cherise through the misery that is pregnancy a second time.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it, Cherry?” he asks.

“Not as bad as I thought it was going to be. I’m just glad there was a culprit. Now you can stop blaming yourself.”

Bucky blushes somewhat, just happy that he managed to get Cherise to go to the doctor for the issue. It’s clear to him that it likely wouldn’t have resolved on its own.

“I love you, James.”

“I love you, too.”

#Bucky x OFC #love #story

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iglooface · 5 years

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My whole school career, despite how short it may be thus far, I have always been complimented and received positive remarks about how smart I was and how talented I was. They all find it strange that these are not traits I am proud of.

I grew up with depression, anxiety, and insomnia. My three original traits that have come to rule my life. I inherited mild depression from my mother, and anxiety and insomnia from my father. In all of my years in school except for the last I have been bullied mercilessly for everything about my being. It would vary from my hair, my style of clothing, my physical being, calling me ugly, exclusion, death threats, abandonment, being called names and excessively pointing out my mistakes (surprise! I'm human unlike most bastards I meet). I also had chronic nose bleeds, so from the beginning everyone was always grossed out by me for bleeding from my face nearly every day (most of my clothes are stained with my own blood because of this and I'm honestly too broke to afford new clothes very often). Even teachers and my own parents would put me down for nearly everything I did for one reason or the other; nothing I ever did was right. And to add more I'm often put after my sisters' needs and wants. I've never been prioritized.

I was, and still am, a sickly child. I've technically had my heart stopped and been dead twice before and I had a handful of major surgeries before my sophmore year in highschool. My doctors don't ever listen to me and they think I'm dramatic when I bring up actual chronic symptoms I suffer from.

As a child, we moved around a lot and so I switched schools often and was never able to make or keep friends. I come from a long line of verbally and emotionally abusive teachers who went on without consequence whilst I get in trouble for trying to fix myself. In grade school alone I had all but two of my teachers quit their jobs and/or be replaced after that year, if not during the middle.

Children are highly impressionable, and so these kinds of events did lead up to me thinking it was somehow my fault. Logically I know this not to be true, but impressions and mental illnesses are not logical.

In seventh grade alone, I had gone through 12 different prescriptions for pain and different types of birth control to regulate my period and my chronic cramps. It's highly likely that I had, and still have, endometriosis, yet my doctors are always reluctant to perform any blood tests on me simply because I am young, as if being young makes it entirely impossible for me to have health issues.

My periods were unstable to a point that I'd end up having one for thirteen days, or months apart. Given, young girls with periods often experience irregular cycles, but mine kept landing me in the hospital which is never a good sign.

I was bullied that year to a point that I tried to kill myself and failed, and I managed to avoid my parents finding out. This was the beginning of my incredibly high drug tolerance. At the end of that year, my favorite teacher was killed in a car accident.

The following year, it was found out I had massive ovarian cysts that were increasing my insomnia and put me in agonizing pain nearly every moment of my life. But my doctors refused to take action because I was young. That year I was further emotionally abused by a handful of my teachers. One of them, worse than others, was fired during the beginning of the third trimester of the school year. Her replacement, a long term substitute, was even worse. She had bullied and abused the class so hard that kids had killed themselves and I ended up getting conversion disorder.

Conversion disorder is a mental disorder in where my body cannot handle stress. My brain doesn't know how to function and deal with high stress situations, so instead it shuts off my physical body. Symptoms vary from person to person, but mine are on more of the extreme end. It varies from extreme memory loss, seizures, not breathing, choking on white foam produced by my body, screaming unconsciously, blacking out, temporary amnesia, and paralysis. This is a condition that I cannot control under any circumstances, and it truly dictates my life.

Now my mom had gone to the principal (the school cycles through five in a single school year because of a whole lot of drama) to report this teacher and get a new one. And instead of acting reasonably, the principal quite literally told us she wouldn't look into a replacement because it wouldn't change anything.

And, oh, how wrong she was.

I had previously had mild anxiety and depression from previous life experiences, but this year pushed me to be anxious to a fault (granting me a new stutter, hours long panic and anxiety attacks, migraines, etc), and pushed me into such a strong depression I became highly suicidal and went into an emotional shock. And because of this I also gained PTSD, which is a whole trip within itself.

Freshman year was a wreck. Another one of my middle school teachers had died; she died from cancer and was one of very few people who were ever nice to me. I was being bullied on a whole new level of horrid, and I was flunking every class I had been in. My conversion disorder episodes became do frequent and so severe that the school actually kicked me out illegally for about two months before they continued my education on independent study. That year my dog was put down. And normally that wouldn't be such a big deal except for the part she was quite literally my only friend for three years.

Even worse; I was in recovery after one of my more major surgeries to get my ovarian cysts removed to help with my pain and sleeping problems. I was fragile and under the influence of strong drugs when I decided to take my dog on a walk around my property for the first time in a month because I had been on bed rest. She had seen my neighbor, and gotten freaked out by him (he radiates massive pedophile vibes) and so she jumped on him. Now this over privileged scumbag thought the appropriate response was to threaten to shoot my dog if he ever saw her again no matter the circumstance, and proceeded to curse me out profusely all while I tried to apologise and make it right.

My dog had become a liability because of this man and we had to put her down. Take in mind she was an amazing dog, and had never disobeyed me. She was protective of me as she had been since we adopted her and was genuinely the best thing that has ever happened to me. She'd check on me when I cried and lay with me when I was sick, and was there for me more often that my actual parents were.

The next year, I was bullied slightly less, but I had a great ordeal of friend drama and my fair amount of fights with the office staff. One of my friends, who I thought was close to me, had threatened to kill me after I offended her exactly once. I had a bad day after another episode and she had built this reputation of not feeling and being unattached to the real world. I wasn't in the mood to deal with people and when she asked me if I was okay I questioned why she cared. That was it. Later I had apologized because I had come to terms that I was in the wrong for dismantling her emotions, but she decided to take it too far.

One of my teachers was permanently removed from the school for having nudes on a school device, and they brought in a long term substitute. This was about when my PTSD really started to kick me in the nuts, so I went back on independent study to complete the year. My only other friends moved away and my significant other had killed himself after killing himself shortly after telling me he loved me.

I don't expect people to understand the kind of psychological damage this causes to a person, but I can tell you that it hurts.

I was referred to a continuation school in my area for flunking both years of highschool, and this continuation school had a bad reputation of being troubled kids and violent beings.

I get there, I spend my year being amazed by how nice people are to me. This is the first year of my life I have ever been treated like a human, and it was by the people society had deemed misfits. I had a great year; I made friends and built connections to people. And then my friends left me, and my favorite teacher was fired simply for being a first year. My other teacher left the school year early for maternity leave, and, guess what, was replaced by a long term substitute. I don't think I've ever panicked as hard as I did in those months. Similar timing, same school subject, similar classroom. All of the stressors were right and I nearly fell apart at the seams. I had more frequent and severe migraines and anxiety attacks. My hands would shake in fear so hard I couldn't write, which was bad because the classes I had with that teacher were exclusively note taking and online courses. This substitute wasn't a bad person. He was competent and polite and was always helpful, but my mental illnesses and brain blocks caused me to lose the opportunity to work with them successfully. In the last trimester I tried to kill myself three times, and I accidentally overdosed on drugs about 14 times over the whole year. I almost died a lot by my own doing and it was horrible.

Children need stability to survive and develop normally and I had been deprived of both, as well as emotional stability and positive reinforcement.

Now, during these times I had coping methods. I draw and write professionally to distract myself from the physical pain in my being if not just stress plain and simple. I watched documentaries and studied nearly every subject during my sleepless nights. My coping method was learning, practicing, evolving, and then teaching. My IQ had beat the range of average and I've had a reading level ranked at post college since I was in middle school. And this fall I'm a senior and I've only been ranked higher and higher each year. I've always gotten extra credit on every individual assignment and I've always been too of my class. My teachers love my art, and I had exceeded my professional art teacher within weeks of knowing her. I see, I practice, I perfect, I personalize every trait and skill I want and find intriguing. I study and develop to keep myself from remembering the agony I'm in.

I have a really wide and extensive knowledge on almost every subject and culture I've come across from, because being awake and learning for days on end beats being awake and in agony for days on end.

Along with my severe insomnia, it becomes apparent that I've seen more sunrises than the amount of years most adults have been alive. My walks under the starlight and the moon at odd hours? Amazing. Laying in a field at night and listening to all the little creatures and the coyotes howling in the distance? Perfect. Stargazing in my driveway on a clear night in the winter? Cold to my bones but I'd never trade the memory. Walking home in the rain at 11 a.m.? It's made me wiser. Taking a moment to breathe in and feel nature has sometimes saved me.

My bones definitely creak; mostly because I have juvenile arthritis, but I also feel ancient in my mind.

The wear and tear my body has faced for such a physically young being is unnatural. I can't describe the strange feelings of almost bleeding to death or stomach ulcers brought on by stress.

Those weird feelings of my bones cracking wrong or my knees suddenly giving out.

I've seen more of the Galaxy from here on earth than most adults have ever seen in a poster.

The meteor showers, the shooting stars, the solar flares, the cycles of the moon, the constellations? They accompany me on my walk down to my death.

Even better, looking up daily to love the clouds. I've seen amazing things and infinite days in mere minutes.

The feeling of cool streams and powerful rivers. Almost drowning in the ocean on multiple occasions, feeling the rain on my face. Those are the most powerful moments I've ever experienced.

Hearing the cry of infantile wildlife and mothering it feels like an old friend of mine. I cannot emphasize on how many creatures I've fostered back to health.

I've seen life and I've seen death, and quite too much of it for my age. The wars, the shootings, the stabbings and car accidents. People hanging themselves and people who die clear well before their body does. The births i e witnessed, the blooming of Meadows, the appearance of the new foxes.

Aiding things that normally need help and defending those who have lost their shields. Befriending things considered monsters. Providing a moment of peace for animals searching for the bridge of mortality.

The comfort I bring to people, the therapy I provide from listening and accepting, it was never something I had received myself.

My therapist diagnosed me a sociopath path as an ignorant response to seeing my lack of attachment to people. Technically she's not wrong, I'm a mild sociopath.

And before anyone gets weirded out, sociopaths do have feelings. They are simply harder to reach and read by strangers or common uninvolved people. Psychopaths pretend to care when they don't really. They are violent and unpredictable. Do not confuse us, do your research.

My English teacher this year had made a remark about me being an old soul, and oh, how right she was. I am ancient and people notice.

Life has been forever as I have been forever. My heart is still there, just ground to a fine sand and stored somewhere safer.

I'm tired, of course from my worrying for the human race and how much trouble people are creating these days. The people, they see me and tell me to smile, yet I have nothing to smile for.

My pain killers are border line overdose and all they do is make me a little dizzy. The last time I had pain relief was five years ago in a hospital. I had been in so much pain I hadn't slept in 17 days and they out me on morphine. I was only 12 years old and it was then it had become apparent I'd never be able to truly rest.

Somehow, I rest anyways. I find peace somewhere. Maybe in my hallucinations, maybe in my dreaming and dissociating, maybe in the way the trees speak. Listen to them, the trees, they can tell you more than a life time of science and precision.

I exist, not to overpower someone else's suffering, but instead to offer safety and support. I share so much to emphasize how much I understand. I'm not here as competition to see who can suffer more, but instead I am here to offer a helping hand to keep other people out of the pit of depression I often find myself in.

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 6 years

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DOTW 41 - Start... like 2 hours work. Probably a bit less... idk I need sleep

Laying in Hanji's bed, Eren wept. He'd cried for what must have been hours, but the tears refused to stop. Three negative tests. Three negative tests and his dream of being a mother was over. There was no mistaking that. It felt as is his heart had physically broken, the pain in his chest all consuming as he cried over his own patheticness. Both Levi and his doctor had told him that he probably wasn't pregnant, yet he'd stupidly become attached to the life that hadn't even been growing inside of him to begin with. He'd wanted this. He'd wanted this so badly and he'd let Levi down. He'd opened his mouth and told him. If he'd just kept quiet, Levi would be none the wiser. He could have hidden it completely. Levi wouldn't have to know that he was a bad omega. Or rather, his boyfriend wouldn't have to know he was worthless omega. What kind of omega couldn't carry pups? It didn't matter that they'd used protection. Not when they'd had a ridiculous amount of sex without a condom... he'd had his shot, but did that mean he could never fall pregnant? That he was never going to be able to give Levi children? That's what it felt like. That those three tests were life's way of saying he just wasn't good enough to be a mother. Surely this had to be his punishment for being so bad. Hanji had tried to soothe him, but his omega wasn't having it. She wasn't his alpha. Her scent wasn't safe and warm like Levi's. It wasn't the scent that made his heart leap, or made him slick like crazy during heat. It wasn't the scent that anchored him... She, just wasn't Levi. And Levi was the only one his omega wanted. He was the only one that Eren wanted. Levi was the foundation of his very identity. Everything he did or said, was because of Levi's influence. He would walk through the fires of hell to be with his alpha... So why was it he couldn't even fall pregnant, for him. Now Levi had no reason to be by his side. Before Levi, he'd never met anyone he wanted in his life, for the rest of his life. Even omegas who casually hooked up and fell pregnant, were forced to admit that through their child, the would never be free of the ties that bound them to the father of their child. He wanted to be bound by Levi. He wanted Levi to want him and need him, like he did him. If he'd been pregnant, than no matter what, there would have been a tie that bound them... and now that was gone. He was so fucking stupid. He'd gotten excited. In those few moments before checking the tests, he'd actually gotten excited. His heart was racing as his omega proud. But that was gone now... and he just couldn't stop fucking crying like the idiot he was. When he'd given himself over and let those alphas mount him, he couldn't remember them wearing protection... then again, he hadn't remembered everything when he'd woken up. Things had taken a few days to come back. Small fragments coming together to build the bigger picture. If they'd mounted him, and they'd filled him with their seed, why hadn't he fallen pregnant by them? They'd all taken turns, even when his cries turned to Levi's name, they'd still plowed into him. He'd embraced that fantasy to escape his reality. His omega state reduced to its carnal desired. The heat and drugs turning his brain to mush, until their touches had turned to pleasure and he'd come over and over. It wasn't until he'd come down from the high that he'd felt sick. He tried to ignore it, but without the drugs, he felt cold from their touches. Sick from the force of their trusts. Nauseous from their knot inside of him. They'd used him, and they'd lied. He really was stupid. With Levi, it was all a fresh start. He'd given himself to the alpha and considered Levi the one to take his virginity. Not the ones who'd kept him locked in chains for their pleasure. If Levi knew... Levi would leave. Wasn't that what he wanted though? If things were over, he might as well make Levi so revolted that he could never forget him. So that the man would carry that ugly black stain on his soul until he died... as payback for lying to him. He wished for Levi's happiness. He did. But he was hurting so badly. Levi hadn't really seemed that excited over his possible pregnancy. Not like Jean had been, or Moblit. If Levi hated him, he might as well hate him from the very depths of his soul. With time, Levi would move on and he'd be forgotten. That... that would be for the best. He probably didn't have long left anyway. Not with Bertholdt openly declaring that once the favour was paid, he'd die. Yeah. He needed Levi to leave him, or the alpha would die. * Levi felt sick to his stomach as he walked up to Hanji's door. The door opening before he could even knock. Eren's distressed scent rolled thickly off the female alpha, Hanji looking slightly uncomfortable about it all. Her instincts to protect we're probably through the roof "Thank fuck you came. He's in my room. Levi, he's in a really bad way. He hasn't tried to hurt himself, but..." Hanji shook her head, her eyes sad. She had already said that Eren was in a bad way, so her words were completely unnecessary. It was like pouring salt into his the open wounds of his own emotional distress. Giving her a nod, he headed straight up. Walking into Hanji's room, Eren was curled up in the middle of the bed. The omega still crying his heart out, while his scent was trying to keep Levi from coming close. His boyfriend trying to reject him, despite not being bonded. Omegas generally didn't reject their alpha, not even in their final moments. Even when those final moments came from being bashed to death by their alpha. The whole secondary dynamic system was completely fucked. Everyone could talk until they were blue in the face about protecting omegas and empowering them, but at the end of the day, none of that shit mattered when an omega accepted their partner completely. Climbing up on Hanji's bed, he cautiously placed his hand on Eren's head "Eren?" Whimpering, Eren curled in tighter "Hey. I'm here. I'm here, my love" Crooning softly, Levi laid himself behind Eren, wrapping himself around his boyfriend as much as was humanly possible "I know it hurts. But I'm here. We knew it was a long shot, and I'm sorry I wasn't here for your tests" Eren completely ignored him. Rather. He verbally and physically ignored his presence. His scent flared further. Forcing out the vile tendrils of rejection "Eren. You need to let me in. You need to let me be here for you" He needed him to fucking open up... at least enough that Levi could talk to him. To make him understand that despite the scare, he loved him. He loved him and he'd been stupid with fear "Eren, please. Stop rejecting me. I fucking love you" His voice broke, tears in his eyes. His alpha was roaring in pain. Not just emotional, but physical. He felt like... like he being torn apart by his second dynamic. He couldn't stop his bitter tears "P-please, brat. Please let me in. Stop rejecting me" Begging. He didn't beg. His pride didn't allow it. Without saying a single thing, Eren had reduced him to this... to this pathetic lump that vaguely resembled him. With a miserably sob, he buried his face against Eren's nape "I'll bond with you. I'll breed you. I'll do anything you tell me to do. Just stop this. Please. I need you" "If I talk. Will you listen?" Eren's voice was husky from the hours spent crying. So soft he nearly missed it in his own distressed state "Yes" "To all of it?" "Yes" He'd do anything to take Eren's pain away... he shouldn't have thrown up his walls and pushed for space between them. He should have swallowed down his own need to figure everything out, and given Eren what he needed to get him through this pregnancy scare "Let go of me..." He didn't know if he could. His body was fused in place. Scared that if he did let go, everything between them out break so badly that no amount of super glue could ever repair them "I..." "Let me go" If Eren's voice hadn't been cold before, it had dropped another several degrees in his moment of hesitation. Prying himself off Eren was like prying apart two sheets of wet glass. All he could do was slide and hope he didn't crack upon separation. When Eren was finally free, he moved to sit on the edge of the bed, facing towards the door of Hanji's ensuite. Wrapping his arms around himself, Eren took a breath "I was 10 when I watched my father murder my mother..." This wasn't what he wanted. He'd wanted to know Eren's back story so fucking badly, but hearing it almost seemed to make his ears hurt. There was no emotion here. Just words. Spoken as if off a script "I came down stairs because I was thirsty. Grisha never accepted having an omega son. For two years we hid it from him. I watched him kill her. She told me to run, so I tried to protect her. Grisha threw me against the wall and killed her in our kitchen. He'd gotten in to deep, and couldn't see another way out of it all. I remember someone else was there. I just don't remember who. He was the first to want to sell me. To sell away his shame. I kept my mouth shut as he went insane. He'd frequently hit me. Every time I heard him coming, I hid in my wardrobe. He'd find me and beat me. This went on until one day he dumped me and disappeared. After that, I was put into the foster system. I was 10 when I stopped going to school. I was too much of a problem child for the foster parents to handle. I never stayed anywhere for long at all. No one knew how to treat me or deal with me, and most weren't prepared to handle an omega with messed up heats. I was like a library book. Taken, only to be returned. I lost count of the number of homes. The faces of the other children all blended into one. None of it meant anything to me anyway. When I first saw that house, I knew something was wrong. For the first time since everything began, I finally found a family that didn't just shove me off. They kept me around until my heat and then everything changed. To begin with, I would cook and clean for them. Dress how they wanted. Entertain their friends and let them slap me around. After all. My own father didn't want me. I deserved it all. Then, things started getting worse. They started with the chains. My wrists and ankles. They kept a gag in my mouth. The system was so relieved that I wasn't being bounced around anymore, they didn't bother checking in. Things started growing sexual. They'd beat me. Push me to the floor if I made the slightest mistakes. If they were drinking, they'd piss on my, rather than walk to the bathroom. If they were drunk and horny, they'd jack off over my body. At night, or when I wasn't needed, I was kept in their basement. I had thin sheets, that were little more than rags, a bowl to eat from like a dog, and a bucket to shit in. If I stank too bad, they hosed me down with a garden hose. The basement was always cold and wet. There were rats and it leaked when it rained. When they first gagged me, I would scream and fight. They'd push me down and fuck between my legs. They'd bash me regularly. I was tired of being treated like a monster for my dynamic. So I stopped fighting. Even when the gag came off, I wouldn't speak. I've had surgery because my back teeth were ruined by the gag. When I stopped speaking, I became completely non vocal. I think it was a year or two. I think I was with them for 3 years. If their friends got a little too enthusiastic, they'd always make sure to beat my stomach. They didn't mount me, but some nights I fell asleep covered in come. No matter how much I rubbed at my skin, even if it started to bleed, I couldn't get it off. It's not assault if you're not mounted. The court said. Alphas can't help their desires and needs around an omega who constantly goes into heat because of emotional trauma. As I grew, they replaced the cuffs around my wrists. They were slightly different to the metal ones around my ankles. They left those in place, cutting in as I grew. One day, one of them was complaining. They called me the bastard son of Grisha Yeager. It was then I realised. Everything done to me, was because of my father. Never once did they see me for me. No. I was the kid of the man they hated and they took that out on me. When they realised who I was, they kept me chained constantly. They left me down their to die. Someone called Child Services and reporter the abuse anonymously. Police raided the place, yet, they all got off. Zeke took me in shortly after I woke in hospital. I was around 16, maybe nearly 17. I say shortly after, but my sense of time was nonexistent. It felt like years. Laying in that bed. Staring at those walls. I was violent so they'd tie me down and dose me. I had to have surgery to correct my teeth. I was malnourished to the point where my body had started failing. I was in constant pain and constantly feverish. I was covered in bite marks from bugs and mice and whatever else. And they still got off because I was mute and they were alphas. Zeke murderer them all. It was after that that I found my voice again. Looking at those photos. I was happy. They were burned beyond recognition, but he told me how he slowly tortured them. I wasn't scared by it. I felt happy. I finally had someone who protected me. He'd taken care of the trash the police refused to touch. He burned their house down. He said the whole place was too evil to exist. That no one should live like that, especially not because of our father. He hated him. Grisha had walked out on Zeke and his mother. Sometimes I see Zeke's mother as my mother's killer. It's not like the memories of a ten year old are accurate. No one cares. Zeke took me in. We lived with his two friends. Reiner Braun and Bertholdt Hoover. Zeke wasn't stronger than the pair of them, but he kept them both in line. He poisoned Bertholdt, simply for being too close to me. He forced them to work at the same club as me. He refused to let anyone close me. He taught me to be strong. He got me into dancing instead of physical therapy and he controlled my diet so I didn't get sick again. Zeke taught me how to be a human again, and not a dog eating out a bowl. He had to teach me how to bath, shower, shit and shave all over again. How to eat with a knife and fork, and the alphabet. All I had to do was stay by his side. I couldn't talk to Reiner or Bertholdt. I couldn't get too close to them or he'd hurt them. He wanted to come after all of you, after I fell off the table. He cleaned me after my heats. He'd dress my wounds and make sure I was using my vitamin E cream so I wouldn't scar. He showed me how to use concealer to hide the scars around my ankles. The mask I wore, was crafted by him. I was no longer Eren from the basement. I was no longer touched and used by alphas. Instead, I danced and waved in their faces that they could never fuck me. I never, ever wanted an alpha again. All of them were so pathetic as they pushed money down my underwear, and watched my every move. And I fucking loved it. They all deserved it. They're nothing more than animals in human skins. It made me feel alive. I took back those broken parts of me, and shoved it in their faces. I danced and behind the scenes, my brother would hurt anyone who hurt me. All I had to do was be obedient to him. They might have never mounted me out of fear of pregnancy, but up on that stage, I could see that's exactly what they were thinking and I fucking loved it. When Zeke abandoned me at the hospital, he came to see me when Hanji took me home. He told me to stay there and behave, so I did. I waited every day for him to come take me home. Until you came along. I never let myself dream. You know. I broke my ankle when I was drunk. I climbed up on the balcony rail because I wanted to fly. When I jumped down, I broke it. I never dared to dream. But I wanted to be a fucking bird. I wanted to fly away and leave everything behind. I wanted to leave the alpha with the mercury eyes behind. The stupid alpha I couldn't get out my head. I even started dressing in grey, because I was that pathetic. I thought things with you were different. You cried for me when you thought you raped me. I'd never met an alpha like you. You always smelt and felt safe. I always wanted your full attention. No matter how jealous and petty it was. I wanted you to want me as much I wanted you. I wanted to be good for you. I wanted to be the perfect omega. But at the end of the day, I am dirty. I'm so filthy that my soul will never be clean. Even if I couldn't voice words, I cried out when they touched me during my heats. The people who hurt me because they couldn't hurt my father. He must have known and he never came. He tried to kill me, and didn't care when someone else tried to do the same. He denied my existence. If he's still alive, he probably thinks I'm dead. The truth of it all is that I am not a sweet and caring person. I help others purely because I know what it's like to be powerless and it makes me feel good. I want the praise. I want to be wanted. I want to be wanted by you. I wanted to have your children. I wanted to be pregnant. I wanted it so fucking badly. But this... I am a bad omega, and this is the punishment. I've lied to you. Hurt you. Ruined your life and kicked you away. You were never supposed to hear this, but I'll probably be dead soon, and you can never unhear how worthless and dirty I am. I truly fell in love with you. But love won't give you that baby. It won't change the fact I wasn't pregnant. It won't change the fact that Zeke hit me and froze me in a cold shower for touching myself. It won't make me any cleaner. I am the bastard son of Grisha Yeager. It's a sin for me to live. My living has killed both my mother and Zeke..."

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miniaturephantomprincess · 6 years

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Sometimes I do have to remind myself that I can actually write

I just went through a bunch of scraps and snippets and a huge pile of the awesome stuff @clockworkangel and me have been creating for our decade long head canon.

It’s obviously part of an AU, but it works without much further context as well soooo... enjoy, I guess?

She knew approaching Michiru wouldn't be easy. Minako had tried before and every attempt had failed. Aside from any official gathering Michiru ignored her. She didn't even so much as to look at her and while she and Haruka had every damn right to do so, Minako could no longer bare to be avoided like this.

She didn't hope for some kind of miracle. Minako was after all clever enough not to expect some kind of heartwarming reunion, not after everything, not after what she had done to both of them in the past. If anything Minako had to finally get these damned words out and off her chest and what better place was there to ask Michiru Kaioh for forgiveness then this?

Maybe it came with a certain irony to it, but at least that's what Minako thought Michiru seeked from this place herself. She came here frequently. Minako had found out about this rather by accident and quite some time ago. However, it at least gave an explanation to why the roses on the side never seemed to wither. White roses, the color of innocence, untouched by time. There always were 41 one of them. No more, no less, one for every name written on the memorial side.

Minako wondered for how long Michiru had brought them up here. A long time for sure, for the undying flowers had already become some strange kind of legend among the villagers. Lost in her own thoughts it caught Minako off guard when Michiru suddenly addressed her and she silently cursed herself for the second her attention had wandered off.

„What do you want.“

Michiru didn’t even bother to turn around. She had sensed Minako’s aura long before the leader of the inner senshi had approached her. Michiru’s voice however, as well as her posture was everything else then welcoming. It no longer surprised Minako, it really didn’t, yet it still send a cold shiver down her back. All of this used to be so different…

Minako straightened herself, not willing to give up just yet, not this time anyway.

„I wanted to talk.“

She half a step forward and immediately regretted her mistake as Michiru now turned with cold, blue eyes piercing merciless down at Minako’s soul.

„About what.“

Michiru barely raised her voice. She didn’t have to and Minako knew enough about Michiru’s powers to know she had to raise less than a finger to shut her up and send the sea down at her- quite literally. Yet for some reason Michiru didn’t and this gave Minako the faint illusion she might have some kind of chance.

„You know about what.“

Minako didn’t move close, but she also didn’t step back and therefore met Michiru somewhat eye to eye with all the authority and strength she could master.

„No I don’t. And it doesn’t matter for I don’t wish to hear it.“

With this Michiru turn to take her leave, distanced, unapproachable and not even willing to give Minako one chance to speak her mind. It was this very last point that silently made Minako’s fist tremble and finally made her snap. She through all her caution down with the wind.

„Michiru wait!“

Some nearby birds loudly complained and took their leave as Minako rushed to catch up with her former friend and ally.

„God damn it! Listen, I am sorry! I know this doesn’t make anything undone and I wish I could take it back, but Michiru please…“

Michiru abruptly stopped and turned again, making Minako stop in return. Everything about the atmosphere between them felt strangely dangerous. Michiru wasn’t openly aggressive towards her, yet everything about her carefully put together calmness reminded Minako at the sea right before the storm.

„Take it back?“

Michiru kept staring at her, her head tilted ever so slightly and Minako nearly expected to feel a familiar pressure on her chest or water filling her lungs with every further word.

„Tell me Minako, which part exactly?“

Minako didn’t dare to move. She didn’t even dare to speak and the simple ‚all of it‘ she had formed in her thoughts, even if it was the truth, suddenly felt plain and flat without any meaning.

„The days of torture? The living hell you send her through? Every second of every day you broke her? All those nights her mind wanders back to it and she wakes up screaming and terrified at a place where your chains hold her down and even I can’t reach her?“

She never would be able to argue against Michiru’s accusation, yet still every last one of them hurt. To know what she had done to Haruka, who had called one of her closest friends…it was still different to hear Michiru throw all of it back to her. Minako swallowed hard as she forced back the memories that had come back for her. They would hunt her later she knew, but right now she couldn’t deal with both her guilt and Michiru standing infront of her.

„You need to believe me Michiru.“

Somehow Minako still found enough courage and strength not to back away.

„If I could do anything to help her I would have done it already and a long time ago!“

She had tried.. she had wanted to take at least some part of the pain and suffering she caused away. The fanatic damage she had done however was way deeper and by now had eaten and buried itself deep into Haruka’s very existence and soul.Into this last parts that had not completely vanished.

„It doesn’t matter.“

Michiru’s voice was sharp, her words some kind of eternal judgement in which clearly wasn’t any sympathy or pity left for Minako who so desperately tried to fix whatever bond she still saw between them. After all it was nothing more than a fool’s phantasy, never to come true, never again to be real and Michiru didn’t see the point why she should even spend one more second mourning some kind of friendship that had been lost long ago.

„Michiru please… I came to ask for forgiveness…We are all senshi after all. We are meant to protect this world together!“

Minako knew by now she didn’t have any right to appeal to Michiru’s kindness or anything along that thought. Yet as her former friendship no longer meant anything, maybe it was at least her duty as a soldier Minako could call upon. Michiru’s opinion however clearly also differed in this point as well.

„We might be, but all your comradeship was a farce to begin with. It is still.“

In these times the rift between them had become clearer then ever. Maybe they had been friends at some point; maybe even Michiru would have said so. For quite some time even she had been lured into this comfortable and happy feeling, but what had happened recently had not only strengthened her power and tested them all, but it also made Michiru see more clearly now. Ever since chaos had spread their little community had start to crumple. Each of them carried an own shadow into their hearts, and even after their victory distrust was rooted deep. It corrupted them all from the beginning and Michiru could even feel it now.

„That’s not true. We all have been friends!“

Michiru thought Minako to sound too much like her princess now, and while she had stopped counting how often Usagi had hold this pledge to her, she sighed rather annoyed for Minako, who should know better, trying the same.

„Listen, we all screwed up; like…really bad and in an unspeakable and horrible way. If it wouldn’t have been for you guys we would have brought Crystal Tokyo to ruins, but out of everyone, shouldn’t you be the one to understand?“

Minako now longer knew which part of Michiru she tried to reach - the one that used to be her friend, or the soldier resting within. Both of it however proofed to be a poor choice, for Michiru never even questioned why Venus and her Inners fell together with their princess.

„I understand. I know why you did what you did.“

Minako didn’t quite believe the words she just had witnessed. They were the faintest hint of a connection Michiru had denied her for month now, but it also was a bridge to be torn down before her as Michiru continued.

„But tell me Minako, when did you ever truly forgive us for Galaxia?“

Michiru never even expected an answer. One way or the other they both knew the truth already and for Michiru it was a simple pleasure to see the young woman in front of her defeated.

„I am not the princess. I do not share her forgiveness.“

Thanks for dropping by! I hope you had a good time and maybe liked it?

If you want to share your thoughts just go ahead ^^

#welcome to our head canon #some parts at least #thanks for enduring me for such a long time <3 #because I don't say this enough #<3 <3 <3 #clockworkangel #personal headcanon #writing #welcome to out head canon #Michiru Kaioh #minako aino

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dead-gay-bitxh · 6 years

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This is a thing I did a month or two ago for my new favorite ship/ot3. It’s on ao3, on my account DeathDirt, so give it some love there, too. Anyway, enjoy! It’s 5k word count and T rating, just so you guys know.

Of all fucking days, it’s today. Today, Mako’s fucking birthday, the day Gabe said he’d be there one-hundred percent sure, that his sister has to break her goddamn leg. He’s not sure who he feels worse for - his sister, for making him miss such a big event, or his boyfriend, for having to go without Gabe for the whole day, if not longer. At the very least, as Gabe lifts Isabella up, cautious of touching her broken limb, he has to text Mako to tell him he probably won’t be at school or able to come over until the day after.

As usual, it’s a one-word reply: ‘ok’.

Gabe almost wishes his boyfriend would get verbally mad at him sometimes. But he can’t think on it long. Isabella is wailing - which is fair, she’s six - and Gabe needs to get her to the hospital before the bone gets pushed further out of place. Without any real materials to make a temporary splint out of, Gabriel pulls his hoodie over his head and wraps it tightly around Isabella’s leg, despite her continued crying. “Hey, hey, calm down, it’s fine. I know it hurts, but just calm down. I’m gonna take you to the doctor, get your leg fixed. Here, drink this and then we should be there,” Gabe quickly reassures, handing over a water bottle while he nearly launches himself into the front seat of the old beater he has been driving for a year now.

He’s still careful in his haste, but his anxiety is building. It doesn’t help that Isabella makes little whines every now and again between sips of water. Not to mention that the traffic town at this time of day was surprisingly thick. Morning rush hour was usually right before the high school morning bell. Just his luck that today, everyone was running late.

It probably only took twenty minutes to get to the hospital downtown, but the seconds dragged on like days. Gabriel grabbed his little sister, who had since stopped crying quite so hard, and pushed into the front door. Thankfully Angela was working an internship today, so the minute he walked in, she was waiting. “Gabriel! Over here!” She called, waving a hand to get his attention. There was a bed against the wall and Angela waved for him to put Isabella on it. The young woman called down one of the doctors while rewrapping Isabella’s leg as best she could. When the presiding doctor wheeled the bed off, Angela huffed. “You’re lucky he’s so intent on getting into my pants, Gabriel,” She muttered under her breath, “He might’ve stayed to flirt if he wasn’t.” Gabe snorted.

“What happened to being taken?”

“It doesn’t matter if I tell them Fareeha’s more than capable of knocking them on their asses, they just push harder. I’ve given up. Speaking of which, what have you told your parents?” Gabe sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. His mother would have a whole cow when she heard, and his father would probably be stuck trying to direct her to do something else while he took care of it. As of yet, he hadn’t given them any information, just that Isabella had gotten herself hurt.

“You aren’t making your case any-” Gabe waved her off. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m calling them. Do I have to wait here until…?” Angela nodded, hesitant. She knew exactly what day it was too, how much it meant to her friend. Even if she never really liked Mako or his friend Jamison, she appreciated how committed Gabriel was to spending time with them. Gabriel stepped away to make the somewhat-unpleasant call, and Angela took the opportunity to step away and check on his sister.

As expected, his mother nearly fainted on the phone. His father was a little less dramatic, just telling his son that he could stay home since he was already going to be so late to school, and that he’d be there in about an hour and a half to properly sign in and do the paperwork. Gabe slumped into the first chair he saw in the waiting room, empty as the abandoned buildings on the east side of town.

For a moment, he sat quietly, contemplating whether he should stay in the hospital or if his dad basically just gave him the go ahead to go back home. Before he could make an executive decision, his phone buzzed. A message, from Jamie.

Jam-Jam: hell happend? hoggy said you bailed

Gabe frowned at the words on the screen. He didn’t bail. His sister just didn’t mind the dozens of warnings not to play on the stupid rope swing until someone got around to fixing it.

Gabe: i didnt bail. sis had an accident, had to take her to the hospital. parents are probably gonna put me on house arrest for letting her get hurt Jam-Jam: awwwwwwww Jam-Jam: that sucks m8 Jam-Jam: ill tell mako Jam-Jam: tell bell i said hi Gabe: no problem. also don’t spam text, you numnutz Jam-Jam: fuk off mate

Gabe snickered as the dope on the other end sent a picture of a doodle on some test or homework of a rodent flipping him off. Even if he couldn’t see it, Gabe happily returned the gesture. Unfortunately - and also expectedly - nobody actually got to the hospital until noon, far past the hour and a half he was promised. But Gabe was used to waiting around. He entertained himself, flirting with the nurses that came by or teasing Angela or, on the rare occasion, making small talk with a patient or two. Mako had a habit of getting sick frequently, so Gabe knew some of the other frequent hospital visitors. He didn’t know half their names, but most of them knew him enough to talk comfortably.

When lunchtime rolled around, Gabe was almost ready to really bail out when his own father walked in the door. First Sergeant Gabriel Ignacio Reyes, Sr., six-foot-two, built like the Marines crafted him by hand (which they may as well have, in all honesty), all muscle from top to bottom despite the fact that he was reaching his forties. Sometimes Gabriel felt incredibly uncomfortable around his father; when he was young, all the neighbors would coo and swoon about how little Gabi looked so much like his papí, but now that he was older, the resemblance to his father was horrifyingly uncanny. In fact, other than perhaps the softer edges from his mother’s influence and the lack of facial hair, it was hard to tell the two apart.

“Gabriel, where’s your sister?” His father quickly demanded, keeping a soft voice while still holding an air of authority in his native tongue. “In a room. I’ll get Angela to show you which one,” Gabriel replied, leaving his seat to wave down the blonde. As soon as she spoke with his father, Gabe braced himself internally for the expected ‘I’ll deal with you when I get home’. Instead, the two walked with Angela down to the room, where she left them a small stack of paperwork, then left. “How are you, mija?” The girl sniffled a bit, and Gabriel fought not to snort at her obvious theatrics. From the barest turn of his lips, Gabe could tell his father knew exactly what she was doing too. “T-the doctor said I broke my l-leg,” Isabella whined, wiping at her wet, red eyes. “How did you break it?” The man asks gently. Suddenly his daughter is much more conservative with her crying, down to sniffling and occasionally wiping her eyes. “Isabella.” The sharp tone stuns the little girl out of her refusal. “I… I was playing on the rope.”

“The one me and your mamí told you not to play on?”

“Yes…”

“And did Gabriel know what you were doing?”

“No…” Thank God he was going to be out of the house before his sister could learn how to throw him under the bus. Isabella was still in the childhood phase of ‘honesty is the best policy’. It wasn’t a bad thing, just unrealistic, in Gabriel’s eyes. Long term, anyway. “Well,” Gabriel said, looking to his son behind him, “I’m going to have to punish you in some way when you get home.” Isabella whined, but her father stopped her with a look. “You ignored your mother and I when we told you not to play on that rope, and Gabriel didn’t know where you were. You know I don’t like to punish you two, but when I must, I must.” That made the teen wince, just a bit. He couldn’t remember if he did anything terribly wrong in the past week. Hopefully it was just his dad being fair while Isabella was upset and nothing else.

The doctor walked in, trying to comb his hair over his balding head with a free hand. He seemed to jolt when he walked in, but quickly resumed the expression of someone on the job. Albeit more forced. “Are you…Mr. Reyes?” Gabriel nodded, starting to follow as the doctor gestured, but stopped before he could leave the room. He turned, grabbed the papers Angela had delivered, turned to his son, and lightly knocked his shoulder. With a decidedly fatherly smile, Gabriel nodded his head towards the door. “Go on, mijo. I’m sure you’re ready to get out. Tell Morrison his old man still owes me a night out, too, if you see him tonight.” Gabe tilts his head. “Tonight?”

“Isn’t it your boyfriend’s birthday?” Gabe seems to be trying to sink into his hoodie. He really tries to keep his relationship away from the rest of his family, more out of respect than anything else. “Mijo, you’d better not stay home from this if you expect to get anywhere with him. Your sister is fine. Go out, have fun. While you can,” his father added jokingly as he left the room. Not but a moment later, his mother came in, halfway to tears. She seemed to be trying to hold it together, and not doing as well as she might’ve thought. “Go on, mijo. I’ll stay here,” she assured, voice shaky and decidedly not assuring at all. Gabe sighed, quickly making his way down to the entrance. If both his parents were telling him to leave, he’d need a padlock and heavy-duty chains to be allowed to stay.

Not that he was itching to. Hospitals were not his favorite place. They were sterile and cold and uncaring. Gabriel preferred places that were like his own house - warm and inviting, just begging to get dirty and used so they could get fixed and then dirtied again. It was an odd feeling, but maybe that was just what home felt like.

Probably why he liked Mako and Jamie so damn much. They weren’t afraid to get down and dirty, to play in the mud like kids, then clean up and relax in a big dog pile afterwards.

It was midday, so the parking lot was more or less empty other than the employees’ cars. Gabe opened up his beaten little sedan, pausing for a cursory sniff before he got in. The thing had a habit of picking up smells on a whim, as old cars do, despite the fact that Gabriel has washed the whole thing, inside and out, no less than four times. For a moment, he sits, waiting for something stupid. It’s only because he’s gotten worked up from his sister getting hurt, but Gabe is sure that any moment, some punk-ass white kids are going to break open the window and either pummel him to death or just shoot him. He sits for five whole minutes, minimum, before he gets a text from his mother asking why he’s still in the parking lot. Gabe blew out a sigh and smiled to himself - his parents were fucking saps.

Another text cheerily bleeped on his phone. Jack now.

Blondie #3: Gabe are you ok? Jamie said your sister got hurt. <:( Gabe: fine. bell was just playing on the rope mom and dad always tell her not to fuck with Blondie #3: That’s great! Blondie #3: Well not GREAT, but… I’m happy you’re not hurt. Gabe: wow, you care so much you dumbass Blondie #3: I’m SORRY Gabe: yeah yeah whatev. you have fifth with mako right Blondie #3: Yeah. Why? Gabe: want you to tell him ill be there tonight. thought my parents would ground me or something for letting isabella get hurt but dad’s chill with it

Jack sent back a happy face, which meant he was probably looking like an idiot in the middle of fourth period with his giant goddamn grin that he always got when he was excited. Really Jack, you couldn’t be any more subtle? Gabe shook his head and started the car up. It took a few tries, but once it did start, it was ready to go. He rolled out of the parking lot and into the quiet street, only occasionally passing another vehicle despite it being downtown. School was going to be out in about three-and-a-half hours, so there was time to get ready. Amélie and Olivia had taken the day off to get some little things organized for Mako’s birthday, so Gabe shot them both a text that he’d join them. Mel sent back a spider and Olivia sent back a skull. For some reason, those were just their signs for ‘ok’, even though it probably took more time to hit the fucking emojis than it did to just type it out.

“Oh, you’ll have fun big guy! Had spidey ‘n glitchy set the whole thing up. Promise ya, it’ll be just what ya like!” Jamie couldn’t stop talking, which was perfectly fine. That was just how he was. Rather than replying outright, Mako just nodded and huffed and occasionally snorted in laughter. He knew that the little gang of friends he’d managed to gather were absolutely crazy about this party, for whatever reason. If it’d been up to him, the whole event would have been condensed down into a weekend movie marathon, since it was Friday, but everyone - including the down-to-earth and blunt Akande - had insisted he let them do this.

The only bummer was that Gabriel wouldn’t be there. It wouldn’t have been the first time his boyfriend was forced to miss out on something like this because of something that happened that got him into trouble, but it stung more because they were technically official. Hell, even Jack, Gabe’s best friend since elementary, wasn’t sure they were dating until they came right out and said it a few months ago. But, such is life and all that. Mako supposed he could deal with the late night cutesie texting for a while.

His house didn’t look much different when they walked up to it from the street. But that didn’t always mean much - when they got into party planning, Amélie and Olivia got into it. Jamie peered in the window, then suddenly cackled with laughter. Mako only rolled his eyes, motioning for Jamie to get up to the door as he opened it. There was no immediate heart attack, so everyone had learned to go easy on the ‘surprise’ part of the surprise party. What Mako didn’t expect was for a tongue to just crawl right up the shell of his ear.

It wasn’t the worst thing to ever be done to him, but it was unexpected, so he turned with the intent of either elbowing or shoving the offender out of the way, except Gabe was grinning like an asshole. “Surprise,” he whispered, winking before he threw his arms around Mako’s neck. “Piggy pile!” Jamie yelled, immediately jumping right onto the other two boys. From out of absolutely nowhere, Amélie and Olivia joined in on the hug, everyone squeezing their older friend like he was about to go to war.

“You’re all mental,” Mako grunted, still revelling in the soft embrace he found himself in the middle of. “Don’t worry, hermoso, there’s plenty more coming,” Olivia assured with a quick kiss on the young man’s cheek. While the other three ran off to do whatever, Mako was left with Gabriel, who was perfectly happy to use his boyfriend like a personal body pillow. “Thought you weren’t gonna be here,” Mako mumbled, nuzzling into Gabe’s neck. Gabriel looked just a bit sheepish, enough for the larger boy to feel sorry for him. In return, Gabe squeezed just a little around Mako’s neck. “Didn’t think my dad would let me off easy when he came by,” Gabe confessed. He sighed against Mako’s shoulder, easing into the hand that settled on his back. Suddenly, he jolted up, looking frantically around the room until he spotted what he wanted, grabbed it, and held the box out to his boyfriend.

“Had this made a while ago. Figured this would be a good time to give it to you.” Mako took the box. It was light, barely any heavier than the cardboard that gave frame to the wrapping paper. Whatever it was, he trusted Gabe to not give him anything kitschy or cheap. Even if Mako was perfectly fine with kitschy and cheap. “If you wanna open it now…” Gabe trailed off, hands shoved into his hoodie the way he did when he felt nervous. It didn’t show on his face, but anyone who knew him well could tell when the young man was nervous. And if he was nervous, he probably spent some time making or thinking out this gift.

Mako decided to spare his boyfriend any more theatrics, tearing open the bright green wrapping paper to reveal a standard brown cardboard box. There were holes cut out in the sides, like an animal’s carrying case, and Mako is strongly reminded of the bright blue snake Jamie brought him once as a ‘gift’. He pushes through regardless, and opens up the box. Inside is a stuffed pig. It’s limbs aren’t quite symmetrical and the little tiara it had on was crooked, but it was obviously made with meticulous care and love. It also has a tiny collar on, with a card hanging off of it. Mako flips the card over. It reads ‘My name is Duchess. I am a miniature pot-bellied pig. I hope we can be best friends!’ in a very familiar script. The stuffed animal is black on its head and legs, with little pink ears and a pink splotch over its belly and one eye. Its eyes are matte black buttons, sewn on almost perfectly. The whole thing is also pretty big for a normal stuffed toy, big enough that Mako would have to hold it against his chest or belly if he only had one hand.

It was absolutely beautiful. Mako lifted the stuffed pig out of the box. The last time he remembered using or owning a stuffed animal like this was right before his family moved, when he was three. “Do you like it?” Mako glanced up to the young man nervously flicking his eyes from the stuffed toy to his boyfriend. “It was my first time trying something like that. I had help, but-” Gabe is cut off by thick arms pulling him close. Instantly, he relaxes against the warm body. “Love it,” Mako mutters, pressing a kiss into Gabe’s hair. Gabriel sighed, content, remaining as he was until the front door popped open. “That’s cute,” Moira commented dryly, brushing past the two into the back of the house. Gabe was about to tell her to fuck off but Mako’s grip on him made the young man relax again.

“Ooh! He gave it to you!” Olivia squealed. She practically bounced off the walls to get around the two in an attempt to see the stuffed animal. “Gabe said he’d worked on it for weeks! Didn’t ever say what it was, show it off, hombre!” Mako lifted the (now) favorite toy up for the girl to inspect. She looked over it with a critical eye, having a near-mountain of such toys at home. “Seams are a little crooked on its head and these arms aren’t lined up quite right,” Olivia mumbled in an analytic tone. “But it’s good for a first-time job. Atta-boy, Gabi,” she added with a punch on Gabriel’s shoulder. The young man groaned a little, both at losing his boyfriend’s great hug and at being hit.

Amélie poked her head in from the kitchen. “Are you bringing them or not?” She growled. Olivia gave a sprightly wave that belonged on a fairy instead of this heathen. “Just a moment, mi amor, uno momento,” Olivia called after the other girl, followed quickly by a wistful sigh. She waved the two boys into the kitchen. Apparently some other people had arrived or been here that Mako didn’t notice. Olivia, Amélie, Jamie, and Moira were all in there, as expected, but Jack and Angela stood at the door, and Akande was off to the side, pretending like he was disinterested in the whole proceeding when he looked just as disgustingly gleeful as everyone else. They all surrounded the center island, covered in what was basically a giant collection of toothaches.

Rather than a cake, there were cookies and brownies and cupcakes strewn all over the place, all in various colors and stages of done-ness. The mess wasn’t something to sneeze at either. Rather than the sandy granite, the counters around the perimeter of the kitchen were all covered in white powder and flecks of icing. A few rags were tossed here and there, so cleaning had at least started. “Everyone kept arguing about what to make,” Jack sheepishly admitted to Gabe’s reddening face, “We just figured we’d cut out the arguing and do whatever we wanted. Don’t worry, Gabe, I’ve got a half-decent mini thing on the way for you guys. Emily made it.” The reassurance was all fine and well, but Gabe had told them all exactly how it was supposed to look - clean and untouched, other than the center island. Whatever. Gabriel huffed. “I’ll clean it up, don’t worry about it,” Angela timidly chimed in, “I don’t mind.” Right.

Mako sighed heavily and chuckled. “You went way too big, Gabe.” Everyone was straining to contain themselves as it was, so Mako just waved at them to go right ahead. A bystander might’ve thought the gathered teenagers were disguised piranhas with the intensity that they devoured the sweets with. There were a few gags that made Mako more than happy to eat whatever was left over. If anything. Actually, he’d just play it safe and send whatever was left home with Jack. His sister ate sweet things like a maniac; it didn’t matter how good or bad, if there was sugar in Jack’s house, it was gone within the week.

By the time everyone was finished, there might’ve been half a dozen cookies left. Olivia’s, which she insisted on giving to Amélie. Gabe and Mako were perfectly content to retreat to the livingroom after everybody helped themselves, cuddling under the warm blankets that always seemed to be baby-soft while Angela and the others - after some chastising and eyelash-batting - cleaned the kitchen up. Jamie walked in long before everyone else, snorting flour out of his nose. “Kicked me out,” he mumbled sullenly at Mako’s questioning look. The blond flopped onto the other end of the couch, pulling himself up on the larger man’s side opposite Gabriel. Jamie had a much better full-body embrace than Gabe did, Mako thought. It wasn’t bad, just a little indicative of the types of people they were. Jamie was loud, annoying at times, always ready to pop a joke or laugh at the first thing that excited him. Gabe was quiet, a little more seclusive and definitely more of a home-body than Mako’s sure he’d like to admit.

He never says these things, of course. Either people will find out who they are or they’ll delude themselves for the rest of their lives.

Nearly twenty minutes after Jamie came in, the rest of the group walks into the massive room, all covered in different amounts of flour and sugar and icing. Olivia and Amélie both have little pictures on their cheeks drawn in purple icing, a spider on Olivia and a sugar skull on Amélie. They’re so not-subtly gay for each other that it’s disgusting. Everyone takes their usual seats on the wide U-shaped couch, leaning back or on each other, depending on how friendly they were. Expectedly, Jack and Akande took completely opposite sides of the couch, Amélie and Olivia were cuddling close enough that Gabe was tempted to tell them that girls needed to use condoms too until Jamie beat him to it, Moira was, as usual, on the floor, doing some kind of homework like the weirdo she was, and Angela was somewhere in the middle to act as somewhat of a peacekeeper if things got out of hand. Specifically between Akande and Jack, but it wasn’t uncommon for random bouts of violence to spontaneously occur either.

After about ten minutes of silence, Olivia groans out loud and throws her hands up. “Is this really what we’re down to?! Just sitting around like a bunch of dead cats? Dios mio, Gabe, fuck your four boyfriends or something.” Gabe kicked at his cousin, scowling in her direction. It wasn’t mean, just annoyed. Olivia was insufferable when she was bored and the ‘four boyfriends’ comment was always the first thing out of her mouth when she got bored. Just because he was close and had - perhaps - experimented with some more risque ideas with Akande and Jack and Jamie before trying them with Mako was no reason to say they were all together. Gabe actually wasn’t sure that polyamory would be allowed - Mako could be surprisingly possessive at times.

Well… He’d be fine if it was just Jamie. Those two may as well have been dating anyway with how much Jamie would come along on Gabe and Mako’s days out.

“Go get a movie or something then,” Gabe grouses, burrowing into his actual boyfriend’s neck. Almost in sync, Akande and Jack move to try and comfort him, but Jack is on the wrong side of the couch, and so has to suffer with the smug glare sent his way by Akande. “You two are impossible,” Amélie groans as Olivia rises to search through the high shelves for some kind of decent movie to watch. It’s hard to tell which “two” she was referring to, Olivia and Gabriel, or Akande and Jack. Both pairs were equally annoying to deal with even on a good day.

With Olivia and Gabe, it was a simple matter of family. Olivia and Gabriel were cousins, and so had the right to beat the shit out of each other on physical and verbal levels until they felt like stopping. Akande and Jack, however, had a whole different set of problems. Gabe had met Jack on his first day of kindergarten, and they’d bonded almost immediately. They did absolutely everything imaginable together, whether it was playing at recess or doing their grammar homework. Then high school rolled around, and with it, Akande Ogundimu. New to the states, Jack didn’t mind him at first. Was very nice and comely like the white boy he was. Then Akande started showing interest in Gabe. Still, Jack was able to give him the benefit of the doubt. But after a while, Jack got jealous of the young man. He was suave, flirty, confident, all without coming off as bull-headed or stupid. Basically everything that everyone else expected Jack to be that he tried to pull off and just never came close to whatever Akande did. Gabe still loved both of them, but the way they fought for his attention was uncomforting, at best.

Mako cleared his throat. “I’m goin’ to bed. Anyone else?” He didn’t wait for anyone to reply, just got up and strolled right on over to the flight of stairs leading to the next floor of the house. The young man glanced behind him halfway up to see Gabriel and Jamison following like dutiful puppies.

The first floor of the house was wide and open, but the second floor was taken up mostly by a single hallway, three bedrooms and two bathrooms branching off on either side. Which Mako found strange. The only time he could think when more than one bedroom was used at a time was when he invited friends to stay the night. Even on holidays, his mother and father were off doing work. It was convenient, though. Mako basically had free reign over the house so long as he kept it clean. And he did make his friends clean it if they made their own mess.

Since his parents were hardly ever home, Mako had taken over the master bedroom, gradually moving his things into it until it was his, whether his parents liked it or not. It still had the bed frame from when they’d moved in about sixteen years ago, but the mattress had been replaced several times. At the moment, it was a king size mattress, covered with fairly new sheets in a monochromatic geometric pattern, along with as many pachimaris and other such plushies that could fit until they spilled off the bed into their own pile facing the window. A comfort place.

The three boys pile onto the bed all at once, not unlike the way they had on the couch. Gabe and Jamie each laid against Mako on either side, all three bundling themselves in a collection of blankets and plushies until they’d settled. Between Mako’s warm body, Jamie’s energy-fueled twitching, the hoodie Gabe has on, and the blankets on top of the three of them, it more than makes up for the aggressive A/C that everyone else insists on. Gabe burrows into the blanket den, almost purring in the little mound he was part of. Through some miracle of faith, Gabriel doesn’t notice as he’s moved between Mako and Jamie.

With another near-miracle, Jamie is able to wiggle himself beneath Gabriel without waking him. Now that both of them were in a more compact spot, Mako could comfortably put an arm around both boys.

Everyone downstairs were perfectly oblivious to the cuddling upstairs.

#Roadkill #fanfiction #fluff #implied polyamory #dont worry it's not cheating #Gabe just likes the idea of two boyfriends #also minor stuff with Widow and Simbra #ALSO also this is based on yazzzdonut's HS AU aesthetically #obviously it does not ship-wise

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floofsta-x · 7 years

Note

things you said under the stars and in the grass -> For Hyungwonho because of the Newton MV XD

o m g. YES??? kdlfsa;a. I am getting so many feels already writing this….so yes you didn’t ask for it but here is an actual fic instead of just a mini. Extremely sappy romance alert

Swing on a Star

genre;; realistic, high school!AU

pairing;; Hyungwonho !!

plot;;

@ramenrulz8p said: things you said under the stars and in the grass !!

Send me a prompt and a ship! (✻Ask Box)

The story of a bad boy / former bully and the nerdy son of an Astrophysicist: their unlikely friendship and then relationship. On their first date, they find a place where they can get away, a peaceful escape amidst the swirling confusion and stressful expectations of the everyday.

warnings;; fluff!! very, very cute fluff!! also the beginnings of smut.

words;; 6753 (6.7k)

Staring up at the sky, Hoseok had never felt more at peace. If ever there was a night to cherish and enjoy, this was it. Nothing could get better, even the alignment of the twinkling stars up above. Hoseok practically was praying and begging any higher power that might be listening to not let this end; he needed one more minute, even another long, lingering moment, here. Civilization, stress, and trouble was miles away. The weather was perfect, not too hot nor too cold; a gentle breeze rippled his dark hair. It seemed that the pesky bugs were resting, as he hadn’t seen any all evening. His lungs sucked long, greedy gulps of fresh oxygen. Here, the air didn’t leave a dirty taste in his mouth, like back at home. Still, these weren’t the sole reasons he was happy. They were just other, beautiful things that had fallen into place.

Yes, this night was perfect, but even more so was the tall, handsome boy currently using his abs as a pillow. Hoseok could listen to Chae Hyungwon talk forever. They laid stretched out in the soft, green carpet of grass, perpendicular to each other. The younger pointed to the sky, slender hand moving every once in a while to trace a constellation. His low, confident voice was soothing and relaxing, and yet made Hoseok’s heart beat faster.

Was it really two months ago that they first laid eyes on each other?

Hoseok, also sometimes called Wonho, didn’t usually drop by the library. Why would he? After all, there was a reputation he had to maintain. As a muscled, biker jacket wearing bad boy, tough was in his blood. The last place he would get caught dead was in amongst the shelves of a stinking library. Someone might think that he actually cared about school. On that particular day, though, he had begrudgingly agreed to go. He owed a friend a favor, and had promised that he’d run some errands for him in restitution, no matter how ridiculous– or shady. “Begrudgingly”, of course, wasn’t quite literal; he couldn’t complain too much. In all honesty, he felt relieved that he wasn’t asked to do anything more taxing than return books. So, stack of long-overdue novels under his arm, Hoseok walked in, swagger and all.

It had been a while since he was in here, so, naturally, his gaze swept the room, taking in what had changed. It wasn’t much; maybe they had moved a few shelves, or added a couple, he wasn’t sure. One thing did catch his eye, however. Over in the corner, a tall, slender figure was sitting at a table, surrounded by piles of textbooks. He was dark-haired; his slender hand furiously scribbled in a notebook at his side. Wonho wasn’t quite sure why, but he lingered on this stranger.

The other boy seemed to know that he was being watched. He popped his head up–and a firm, intense, perhaps even lazy gaze locked onto Wonho’s nonchalant one. Dead silence reigned; time stood still. Hoseok instantly saw through the thick wire rim glasses and hunched posture to the fine-featured man underneath. How could someone possibly be so handsome?

Suddenly the bad boy found himself becoming shy. Blush rising to his cheeks, he broke eye contact and quickly slid the books he was carrying into the return slot. Then he high-tailed it out of there. Hoseok spent the next day and a half wondering what exactly had come over him in that moment.

After that day, whenever he set foot near the library, which was more frequently than before, he was unable to think of anything except the kid who should be on a catwalk instead of digging into advanced calculus and chemistry. Everyone close to him noticed that he was constantly distracted and aloof. Wonho heard a lot of questions about if he was ok or needed help; but far and away he got asked the most if he was in love. Most of the time, he just laughed it off and said he was fine. Only in his most alone times did he admit to himself that he truly wasn’t sure. The answers might be yes, or they might be no.

It took Hoseok a week to work up the nerve to go back. Only after a long internal speech about how he wasn’t scared of anything did he square his jaw and promise himself he’d do it. Part of him thought it was silly. Yes, there was a cute boy in the library. So what? Yet, he desperately wanted another peek. Was it too much to ask to watch the beautiful student who, with a single glance, had captured his heart?

So he wandered in during the same period he had before. Sure enough, there he sat, nose deep in a thick book on physics. This time he didn’t look up. Hoseok brushed off the questions of the librarian on duty, and chose a spot where it was easy to keep an eye on the bespectacled boy. Hopefully, nobody would notice him loitering and glancing pointlessly through novels.

Finding the courage to approach was a whole other ballgame in itself, too. Another three weeks were come and gone before Hoseok finally decided fuck it, I’ve been watching him anyway. He gave himself the same pep talk as before and made his heavy feet go. His heart was pounding and he was pretty sure that his face was an embarrassed red. Somehow, miraculously, he kept his cool, pulled out the chair across from the slender bookworm, flipped it around, and sat down backwards, flashing his best smile.

The boy glanced up warily and scanned him over once. Almost immediately afterwards, he dropped his gaze back to his book. Drumming his fingers on the countertop, he let out a long sigh and finally drawled, “Can I help you, Wonho?”

The melodic baritone that hit Hoseok’s ear nearly reduced him to a blubbering, crying mess there on the spot. But then, he realized that the other boy had just called him by name and gave a start. “Wait–what–you know me?”

“Of course. You and your no-good buddies have tortured and bullied my friends in the past. I figured that it was only a matter of time before I was a victim. Well, here we are, huh?”

Wonho had to fight a sudden urge to retreat as the weight of what the nerdy kid was saying hit him. Yeah, if he was one of the guys he hung with, they’d be trying to extort money right now, and if not that, being plain rude in general. This conversation was definitely not going the way he dreamed it would. So he sank back and lowered his voice. “Uh–actually, I just wanted to say–call me Hoseok.”

That apparently wasn’t what the other was expecting, either, because like that first day, his head popped up. Still, his tone was flat as he followed up with, “Ah–Okay then. Hoseok. Um, can I help you? Is there anything you need from me?”

“No,” slipped out of Wonho’s mouth before he could stop it. Instantly his inner oh, shit sensor started going off. He mentally slapped himself. “Wait, wait, I mean–yes. I do.” Unconsciously, his tongue darted out to lick his lips. “If you’d be willing to give it, your friendship?”

The tall boy’s eyes grew wider, then narrowed again. “Oh my fucking god. You can’t be serious.”

“But I am.” Hoseok was at the point of begging now. “Please?”

There was a long moment of empty silence as the nerdy kid debated what he wanted to say. Wonho did his best to put on puppy dog eyes, hoping cute charms would work. Finally the former sighed in resignation. “Ok, alright. I don’t have reason to doubt you or say no, so. I’m Chae Hyungwon.”

Hoseok visited every day without fail after that, and his admiration for the younger grew. In no time, the schedule was familiar. Wonho often paused to reflect on the fact that he never thought he’d have a friend like Hyungwon. The dark clothing and torn jeans he wore did not belie his defiant, rebellious attitude. Besides the dark, grungy fashion sense, he sported several piercings. True, there were studs in them only intermittently, and the lip piercing he had healed over. Still, the older folks whispered and judged simply based on the number of holes in the cartilage of his ear. He didn’t care, though. If a teacher or parent told him to do one thing, he did the opposite. Nobody could get him to show up to class reliably. His mother had given up trying to discipline him years before. Wonho didn’t like the system, and something within him yearned for ever more freedom.

In stark contrast, Hyungwon always had his nose dutifully buried in a book. He studied for every test and passed classes with flying colors, in the ninety to one hundred percent range. Most of all, he listened to the wishes of his parents and obeyed, like a good and honorable son.

Yet–as Hoseok learned after a few weeks–there was more to the tall boy than compliance. It was his dream to become an astronomer. However, all his life his Astrophysicist father had discouraged him. Don’t even consider it, he said; apparently, astronomy was inferior to specialized fields. Being a doctor or a lawyer, even a mathematician, would be better. After years of this, Hyungwon simply nodded when he wanted out of the argument. No, that didn’t mean that he had given up. He just became better at keeping his mouth shut about it. The determination to resist still burned hot in his breast. That was why he studied so hard; it was his own way of defying authority.

In the beginning, Wonho often skipped class to be in the library with Hyungwon. Not that he didn’t normally ditch, but he had a purpose behind it now. His lies that he was off on a free period worked for a while, but then, the younger found out the truth. After that, whenever Hoseok would straggle in, Hyungwon would push him to the door. (“Yah, you’re going to be here forever.”) As a result–surprisingly, Wonho’s grades started to improve. He had the brains to pass, it was just that he didn’t want to put in the work. Now, though, the image of Hyungwon sitting in the library, using every iota of brain power to make his dream come true, drove Hoseok on.

Much to his own surprise, Hyungwon warmed up to Wonho too. As the weeks passed, he actually came to look forward to his visits. Still, bad impressions don’t fade quickly; at first, Hyungwon was still afraid of the elder. There had to be some hidden, ulterior motive in this unlikely friendship. Hoseok was nothing but kind, however, and the fear melted. Every day, Wonho would lazily waltz into the library. Pulling a chair and sitting down in it backwards, he’d proceed to ask what impossible knowledge Hyungwon was cramming into his brain. The bright smile that accompanied the question always made the day better.

Still, the tall boy didn’t realize at first how far he had fallen. That is, until the first time he referred to Hoseok as Hyung in his carefully-kept memoirs. Once it hit him what he had written, he stopped abruptly and mulled it over for a good long time.

Eventually, giving a sigh, Hyungwon reached up, to the top of his desk. The wooden box that held his old, filled journals rested there. He knew exactly which dog-eared notebook to grab from inside, and thumbed through its pages until he found the date he wanted.

February 12th.

Im Changkyun showed up at the door after school this evening, crying, with bruises on his cheeks and a black eye. Of course I snuck him past my parents and brought him to the safety of my room, where we could talk. My stash of Kleenex was also there, which he desperately needed. I have a huge soft spot for Changkyun-ah; it broke my heart to see him so shaken up. He’s a couple years younger than me, very talented and hard-working, and almost as headstrong as myself as well. But today, I could tell that something had terrified him. When I asked what was wrong and who did this, the only thing he could say was “Wonho”. (Ironic, right, considering the meaning of the name?) I didn’t press any further, and probably won’t, to be honest.

As I’m writing this there’s rage growing within me. Especially because, I think I know this Wonho. He has about the same amount of age on me as I do on Changkyunie. One of those leather biker’s jackets is always on his shoulders, and he hangs with Park Jason. So, yeah, he’s pretty much a no-good tough guy. I’m fully aware that he works out and his bicep is probably thicker than my waist, but I don’t care. I’m going to fight him and make him pay. He needs to know that it isn’t cool to jump weaker kids for whatever’s in their wallet, or the cash their moms sent with them to pay for lunch. How are there even people so mean–

Clenching his jaw, Hyungwon ripped the page-long entry clean out. There was a satisfying crunch as he balled the paper in his fist. How in God’s name could his new friend Wonho, with the cute ears, sparkling eyes, and plump lips (Hyungwon admittedly thought about them way more than he probably should), be the same person who had beat up Changkyun all that time ago? Yes, he looked the part, and had the reputation, but it was impossible. He was so kind and caring and cute and funny and handsome–

Perhaps that was only his best side, and Wonho was building him up to let him down. But until this newfound sense of trust proved to be a foolish thing, Hyungwon would. There was no shame in believing in something as pure as that boy’s eyesmile. His new friend was proving himself to be very good at worming his way into Hyungwon’s heart.

Tossing the old February 12th entry into the wastebasket, Hyungwon returned to his current one.

–Hoseok-hyung. I was halfway through writing the honorific and I realized, it’s the first time I’ve ever called him that. Yah, I know that Hyung is a heavy term. It indicates that the recipient is deserving of respect and admiration. It’s also born of a close bond between two individuals.

I thought about it, and went back to February 12th, four years ago. The day that Changkyunie named a Wonho as the man who beat him up. That page is gone now. I refuse to believe that Wonho and my Wonho are the same individual. Hoseok, from the library, has only shown me kindness and regard since we first saw each other five weeks ago. I want to learn about him, more than I do about the cosmos, even now.

Besides, dare I say it, I think I’m falling in love.

One night, Hoseok woke up from the bliss that was his first dream starring Chae Hyungwon. That was the moment he knew he had to do something about his feelings. They were really getting out of control, and he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to keep quiet for much longer. He constantly felt like he could explode. Even if the younger boy didn’t return them, something had to happen, or else. More than likely, if he kept it bottled up, he’d make more of a fool of himself than if he had just told Hyungwon in the first place.

There were a lot of things he was risking by doing it, though. First of all, there was his dignity. Contrary to popular opinion, a fragile heart existed in his wide, muscled chest. His buddies did sorta pick up on this, but in the wrong ways. They were constantly pressuring him to admit that he was a womanizer. He never denied or confirmed it, but they firmly believed that he was anyway. Oh, not like girls had never been the recipients of his affection; it was just that then, he had met Hyungwon. Once the initial puppy love he felt for the tall, nerdy kid was over, he still wanted no one else. If anyone knew he loved another male, he would never hear the end of it. He’d probably lose a lot of friends, too, but that didn’t matter much anymore.

Second, his mother had always been super-religious. That was why Hoseok worried that when he came out, it would reach her. She had always been only loving and caring toward him, her rebellious oldest son, but he was sure that he’d catch major flak from her. Maybe she’d even kick him out of the house. What then? Where would he go? Hyungwon definitely wouldn’t let him stay; Hoseok couldn’t ask such a huge favor of him, anyway. Besides, there was a possibility that if his friends didn’t know, he could do some couch surfing for a while. Eventually, his mum would forgive him and reconcile, like she had done so many times in the past for “smaller infractions”.

Most of all though, Hoseok’s third and last fear squeezed his heart and lungs. Nothing scared him more than the very real possibility that he might lose the friendship he had painstakingly built with Hyungwon over the last couple months. True, it was just the occasional conversation. Most of the time, it was non-verbal. Watching the younger boy’s shifting eyes as he scanned through a book. Listening to the scratch of pen on paper as he took notes. Wishing he could be the pen, when it cutely tapped his lips as he concentrated. Admiring the slender fingers that adjusted his glasses every once in a while. Still, it meant everything to Hoseok, and he wanted to let Hyungwon know that. They seemed to understand each other.

They had taken to meeting each other outside the front doors of the school after the last bell rang. Of course, this was often when the library closed and Hyungwon was finally forced to leave. Honestly, however, it was a great arrangement. In that case, Wonho had time to hang with his buddies, then slip away after a while to be by his crush’s side. With nobody usually in the parking lot, either, they could walk and talk without too many questions. They had their occasional bout of nosy people (most of whom Hoseok kept away by widening his stance and furrowing his eyebrows). For the most part people often went on with their business without caring, anyway.

That day, Hoseok leaned against his usual pillar, head in hand, trying to figure out exactly what he was going to say. He felt great pressure to execute it perfectly. One little awkward pause or break, and he might lose Hyungwon’s attention altogether. Then, he’d feel too embarrassed to try again.

The tall boy got out later than what was standard, but Wonho didn’t mind that much. It gave him more time. Still, when Hyungwon finally appeared, Hoseok didn’t feel prepared in the slightest. So he just put on his best smile and matched Hyungwon’s pace. “Hey.”

“Hey, Hoseok.”

Hyungwonie seemed to be in a good mood, which made Wonho’s heart leap. Maybe this was the appointed day after all. I can do this. All there was now was to wait for the right time. Neither said a word as they approached the blue hatchback Hyungwon called his own. He unlocked it, and in front of the driver’s door, turned to Hoseok. “You’ll be safe going home, right?” That question was a daily routine, too.

“Of course.” Quickly, after he had given his customary reply, Hoseok tacked on, “Oh, um, Hyungwon…?”

“Yes?”

“Well–I don’t mean to make you too uncomfortable, but I have a confession.” Glancing down, Wonho shuffled a little. This was the moment of truth.

The younger simply smiled, shook his head, and waved a hand. Even knowing him for as short of a time as he had, Hoseok could tell what he meant. It was a cue to go on.

“I really, really like you.” The words slid out of Wonho’s mouth faster and more confidently than he thought they would. He reached up and scratched the back of his head with a hand. “Not like, as a friend, but…more than that. You’re the most amazing guy I’ve ever met and I just wanted to tell you. Even if, uh, you don’t feel the same way.”

There was a brief silence. Hoseok waited with baited breath, until he heard Hyungwon’s flat, perhaps slightly sad voice. “Hoseok–” A twisting, sinking feeling invaded the older’s gut. That was, until he glanced up and saw the pink rising in Hyungwon’s cheeks. Swallowing, the taller boy started again, more cheerfully and confidently this time. “Hoseok, yah, I really don’t know what to say. Thank you. You know, I–I, uh, think you’re amazing too. Your smile always brightens my day, and even when we don’t talk, I know it’s okay and you understand me. I find myself thinking a lot about how glad I am that you approached me and wanted to be friends. Long story short, I really like you back, so…”

Shy grins grew across their faces as they finally met each other’s gaze. They reached out and clasped hands easily, Hoseok’s smaller palm slipping into Hyungwon’s larger one. The former’s face showed the incredulity and sudden happiness he was feeling then. Suddenly, he wanted to taste Hyungwon’s lips. He turned red at the thought, but swallowed and reached up to tug at his white shirt collar. “Can I–kiss you?”

“Of course.“

Hoseok reached up and found soft lips waiting. Slow and unhurried, the two of them made out there in the heat. When they finally broke, Hoseok sighed lovingly. “Yah, you’re so handsome,” He whispered. “I should take you on a date.”

“I would love that.”

Wonho’s heart fluttered wildly when Hyungwon tucked away a stray lock of hair. The elder smiled and glowed even more. “Besides, you need some time off. You’re always working so hard. Live a little. We don’t have to have a curfew if no one knows where we are. Just you and me–what do you say?”

So, that Friday, Hyungwon left his parents a note that went something like:

Mom and Dad:

I will not be home after school. I just wanted to let you know, so you didn’t freak out and send authorities after me. A friend and I are going to get away. I feel I need a forbidden thing called “fun”. Seriously, though, I reckon my straight A grades and hard studying in the past three years have warranted a day away from all work and no play.

I may be home late tonight or tomorrow morning, so please leave the front door unlocked. I am sorry if this makes you worry, but I promise that I am safe.

–Hyungwon

He and Hoseok had planned this out extensively, and an adventure awaited them. The older boy had pulled some strings and reserved a camping spot out at the national park. It was still the school year, so the place was empty. But why? It was Spring; everything was tranquil and beautiful. They expected to be able to sit and talk, bathed in warm sunlight. There, they could just be together, without the weight of worry on their backs. The plan was to get some food, and then head out. The forecasts were favorable, thank God, but if the weather took a turn for the worse, they could sit in Hyungwon’s car. It would still be romantic, and they’d wait it out, perhaps drive back into town if they needed to.

The weatherman called for a clear night, too. It would be perfect for stargazing, which made Hyungwon happy and excited. After much debate, he decided to take the telescope from the tall bookcase in the family living room. This was the first time he had touched it, as normally his dad didn’t let him. He had often pleaded and begged to as a kid, but apparently it would only feed his desire to become an astronomer–or some bullshit like that. Immediately, he snuck it out to the car and hid it in the storage space behind the passenger’s seat. Hopefully it would be a nice surprise for Hoseok. He also wondered if he should add the absence of the telescope to his note, but in the end didn’t. No one would miss it. Besides, he was already breaking five household rules at once. What was another one?

Making sure he had his packed bags, a first aid kit, flashlights, and various other things they’d need in case of an emergency, he left to go pick up Hoseok. He had memorized the way and the address the night before. As he got closer, the butterflies in his stomach intensified. Was this really the beginning of their twenty four hour first date? So far, it was surreal, and they hadn’t even seen each other yet. Hyungwon was afraid that he’d get to his destination and it would evaporate into mist.

The neighborhood his boyfriend lived in was in stark contrast to his upscale one. Most, if not all, of the houses had peeling paint and askew shutters. Hyungwon didn’t have reason to fear it, however. After all, it seemed like a quiet and peaceful suburb. He pulled into the driveway to find the older boy waiting for him. A full mattress leaned end-up against the porch railing. Hoseok had said that he did some strange things as it was, so his mom wouldn’t think too much about the missing bed. Hyungwon smiled and finally took a breath; seeing the muscled, dark-haired man waving at him made things solidify and become real.

Pulling the release lever for the trunk, it lifted open, and Hyungwon hopped out to help his boyfriend. Dropping the second set of seats into the floor, he bailed before Wonho shoved the mattress in. It was just smaller than the space, a perfect fit. This was the “camping” part of their date; they were going to sleep next to each other that night.

After Hoseok threw in his own things, some pillows, and sheets, he pushed the trunk closed and hopped in the passenger’s seat. He didn’t hesitate to give a radiant smile to Hyungwon. The younger watched him with a longing look. Then, leaned over the center console to capture Wonho’s lips in a kiss. They were still new to this relationship thing. So, they weren’t surprised when they both felt their cheeks heat up. They held hands all the way to school.

Time couldn’t fly fast enough for either of them. It did, though, despite lots of bored, whiny, complaining thoughts that it wouldn’t. Hoseok was in the library hallway at three o’ clock sharp. Hyungwon was even out early (something that stunned the head librarian, who was usually the one pushing him to the door at closing). Today they didn’t care if anyone stared at them as they laughed and talked. How could they not? Their plans had them amped up. More lively conversation accompanied the unexpectedly difficult act of making the bed. The back of the car was simply too small of a space. It was at least alright; they could share quick kisses as they ducked in and out and occasionally leaned in at the same time and met. They were the last ones out of the lot, but it was worth it.

At about four-thirty, they stopped by a burger joint. Like the hungry boys they were, they ordered a lot. To be more exact: thirty-five dollars’ worth of beef, bread and french fries, as well as two extra-large chocolate shakes. Hoseok pulled two crisp twenty dollar bills out of his wallet to pay for it all. As he handed them to the lady cashier, Hyungwon suddenly thought of something. Despite his initial determination not to ask, it popped out of his mouth anyway, before he could stop it.

“H–Hoseok-ah, please don’t tell me that–that's–dirty money.”

The elder’s eyes widened. No doubt, he had immediately understood what his boyfriend meant. Dropping his head, he slowly shook it side to side. “No, um–I worked full-time at the electronics store down the street this summer. We have to give all t–that kind of thing to Jay, anyway.”

Hyungwon studied Wonho’s face closely, but found no hint of deception, or trace that he was lying. Guilt flooded him that he had brought it up, so his next question slipped out timidly. “But you…really–?”

“Jumped innocent kids? Intimidated people into submission? Beat people up? Yeah.” A shadow flickered across his face and through his eyes; Hyungwon didn’t have to ask. He knew that he was reliving a few beatdowns, seeing fists and scared eyes flashing across his vision. “When I joined up with Jason, I never expected to have to do anything like that. I feel bad about it now, but when they looked to me to throw punches…I abandoned my honor and gave in. Fuck, Hyungwonie, I’m sorry. I honestly don’t know how anyone could love me after I’ve been so cruel.”

“But I do.” Hyungwon placed a hand on his cheek, and leaned over to press a kiss to his boyfriend’s lips just as the cashier was handing back Hoseok’s change. The petite gal yelped and nearly scrunched the money in her hand. Every pair eyes shifted to them, but they didn’t care.

Momentarily, they broke. Wonho gave a shy smile to the cashier and bowed as she dropped the bills and coins in his hand. As they moved aside for the next person in line, their hands clasped. They had just kissed in public, this was pretty much nothing now.

“Hoseok, I fell in love with you for your bright smile, your dashing good looks, and last but not least your caring nature. Yes, you have hurt my friends in the past, but I’ve forgiven you. I hope that now you can do the same for yourself.” Hyungwon rubbed soothing circles on the back of Wonho’s hand. “You’re worth so much more than the people you call your friends. Please, I’m always here for you, baby.”

Wonho gave a curt nod, eyes misty with tears. “That means so much more to me than you know.”

“Why does a kind soul like you even hang out with guys like that, anyway?”

“Because that’s where this belongs.” Hoseok gestured to his clothes. Even today, it was black jeans ripped at the knee, army boots, a metal band tee, and the ever-present leather jacket. “When this became my standard outfit, nobody would approach me anymore. And then, out of the shadows, came Park Jason. He took me under his wing, introduced me to the other guys–and I didn’t realize how deep in I was until it was too late.”

Hyungwon’s eyebrows knitted together. “If you don’t want to be friends with them anymore, I can help you find a way out, start again. I know that once my close-knit circle realizes that you’re really kind and that we’re dating, they’ll warm up and–”

A sharp no came from the elder’s mouth, and Hyungwon stopped abruptly. Almost immediately, Hoseok turned slightly crimson and apologized. “I didn’t mean to startle you. What I meant was–I’m sorry, and I appreciate your offer, but I–I can’t. Not yet. If I leave the group to be with you, every one of those boys will have my hide. Including Jay. And messing with him is not a good idea…ever. Just please give me a little time. I’ll think of something…alright?” He reached up to place a single peck on the taller one’s cheek.

Hyungwon was about to relent. At that moment, though, the person behind the counter held up a big bag and two extra-large chocolate milkshakes. Wonho winked briefly at his boyfriend before stepping up to claim them. He returned with a huge smile. “Well, ready to hit the road then?”

“Is that even a question you need to ask?”

Seconds later, it was back into the car and off for the national park, a good hour and a half’s drive away from their home. They ate as they headed out, Hoseok feeding Hyungwon french fries. For two otherwise-mature guys, they were certainly acting very cute towards each other. They played a game involving how fast Wonho could move his hand as he brought bites to his boyfriend’s mouth. If he didn’t do it quick enough, he got a peck on the hand. Of course his reaction every time he felt those lips on his fingers was to giggle. He might have been too slow on purpose sometimes, too.

As expected, when they finally got to their camping spot, everything was beautiful. There were a few burgers and fries left in the car if one or both of them got hungry. They took a casual hike together, before it got dark. Now, it was down to sitting and enjoying the night.

Hyungwon talked animatedly about Cassiopeia, the Queen, and how her constellation had some of the most mysterious stars. Enraptured, Hoseok reached down to comb a hand through the younger’s hair. He was listening, but he probably wouldn't remember anything later. He was too busy thinking about how blessed he was to have such a passionate, smart boy to himself.

Once Hyungwon finished his story, he turned his head to glance at Wonho. A smile spread across his face, and he hummed at the soothing feeling of fingers running through his dark locks.

All at once, he seemed to remember something, and his eyes shot open. “Oh! I almost forgot! I have a surprise.” He bolted up, Wonho along with him.

“Really? Where is it?”

“In the car. I have to get it and set it up.”

“Ok. Give me a kiss first though, won’t you?”

They both shifted their weight and leaned into each other, lips connecting again. Their embraces were still sweet, but growing ever more heated. When they pulled away, neither went very far. Hoseok especially lingered, pressing his forehead to Hyungwon’s. His hand buried itself in the soft hairs on the back of the other boy’s neck, and he could get lost for hours in those big, dark eyes. “Yah, you’re so handsome,” he murmured finally. “I should take you on a date.”

Hyungwon burst out in a chuckle, and his gigantic white grin appeared. “That again? Come on, Hoseok-ah, I’ve already said yes once. This is our first date.”

“Really? Wow…how did I get so lucky?”

“Ah come on, you know that I’m the luckiest one here.” Hyungwon laughed and pushed the older boy’s chest, gently but firmly. “I gotta go get the surprise. I’ll be right back.” He got up and ran back to his car, pulling the box from its spot.

He returned to Wonho’s side with the telescope, and his boyfriend gasped at the sight of it. “No way. That’s your dad’s…You’re totally not allowed to touch it…right?”

“It won’t matter if nobody but me and you know about it.” Flipping open the lid, Hyungwon pulled the stand out first before setting the telescope itself on top. Once he was sure it was stable, he ducked down to peek through the viewing tube. “Whoa. I forgot how disorienting this is.”

“See anything cool?”

“No, but here, if I move it around like this--” Hyungwon wrapped his hand around the end. Tilting the scope in a different direction, he began a search for other things. “And, focus it, I get something pretty cool.” There was a silver band at the base of the eyepiece that he turned, and things became easier to see. After a minute he stopped and gestured to Hoseok. “Wanna try?”

“Of course.” Wonho stepped forward and peered in, too. Presently, a smile grew on his face. “Hey, I can see the craters on the moon.”

“Yeah, it’s a one hundred thirty millimeter. It’s powerful enough to look at Saturn.”

The elder popped his head up, giving his boyfriend a wide eyed stare. “What!? No freaking way. You gotta be kidding me.”

“Yah, I’m not. I dunno if it’s visible tonight. But you can try.”

Like Hyungwon had, Hoseok wrapped a thick arm around the base of the telescope and moved it slowly around. “Yellow, with rings, right?”

“Yep.”

For a little while, the chirp of the crickets was the only sound. Hyungwon blinked lovingly as Hoseok stuck his tongue out cutely, in his concentration. Finally, he straightened up, a wide smile on his face. “Found it.”

“Nah way. I gotta see this.” Hyungwon stepped forward, bending over, and scrunched an eye closed to look into the viewer once more. “Hey, yeah, you did.” There was the yellow-tan planet, centered in the lens. Its storm spot swirled spectacularly on its surface. The rings were perfectly symmetrical, and varying colors to boot. “Whoa.”

“It’s awesome, isn’t it?”

“It is,” the tall boy felt an arm around his shoulders, and smiled contentedly. “but not as awesome as you.”

Hoseok gave a full-bellied laugh. “Oh, be quiet.” But when they were next at eye level with each other, he kissed him.

Space, and being able to view it, was an almost-bottomless source of fun and excitement. Before they both knew it, though, it was late--and certainly far past their normal bedtimes. When Hyungwon yawned, Hoseok wrapped him in a warm hug and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Hm, we should probably get some rest if we need to drive home tomorrow.”

“But what if I don’t want to? Let’s stay out here tomorrow and the next day and the day after that...please?”

“We could, but what would happen to your dreams of being an Astronomer, babe?”

“I don’t care. I’d study the stars in your eyes forever.”

“You really must be feeling tired if you're saying sappy stuff like that.” Hoseok booped the younger on the nose. “Come on, let’s get to bed, huh?”

Hyungwon nodded, but insisted on putting the telescope away first. Once that task was complete, they kicked their shoes off and climbed into the back of the car together. Despite his tough, muscled appearance, of course Hoseok was the one who buried his face into his boyfriend’s chest. When he had his fill of his scent, he drew his face close to Hyungwon’s and gave him a soft goodnight kiss.

Unexpectedly, The tall boy captured it with his lips, drawing it out and locking his arm around Wonho’s waist. The elder could sense that Hyungwon was burning and hungry. He was all but glad to return the sentiment with his own love. Hoseok reached up to let his fingertips dance across the sharp lines of Hyungwon’s face. “Baby--” He managed to gasp between deep, long kisses.

“I need you.”

There was something pressing into the older’s thigh, and he chuckled. “Alright. Well, I’m all yours.”

A warm pair of hands edged up Hoseok’s shirt.

#hyungwonho #monsta x fanfiction #monsta x imagine #monsta x scenario #hyungwonho fanfiction #hyungwon #chae hyungwon #wonho #shin hoseok #askbryony #dkfjsd;kja this took me so long i'm so sorry....i really hope you enjoy c''':

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fangirlingwhileblacktarot · 7 years

Text

Normal Song: A Dean and Cassie Story

Title: Normal Song Author: shoetingstar Fandom: SPN Wordcount: 1,863 Rating: MA rated talk, Y rating action-wise Characters: Dean Winchester, Cassie Robinson, some Sam and John mentions.

Genre: romantic angst with some sexy talk Disclaimer: Dirty talk, heartbreak, death, loss, grief Summary: This is a little story about my lovely couple. An “Imagine you…” type story. You are on Cassie’s shoes while dating Dean back in Athens, Ohio. After a LONG bout of writer's block, I found this a few notes I had started maybe a year ago, fleshed it out, cleaned it up and finished it. I have to share before I lose my nerve and I'm tired of waiting until I'm “perfect” - so please forgive any overlooked mistakes.

I appreciate you taken a few moments out of your day read Dean and Cassie’s story. Shall, we begin…?

******

So, let’s imagine you meet a boy.

First of all, he is hot as hell. Male model face with gorgeous green eyes, tall with the wide, strong shoulders you prefer; Bowlegged like your longing celebrity crush, Keanu Reeves….Just a heaping bowl of manly, goodness for your visual and sexual snacking purposes.

Your first impression: he’s a total player, slightly immature, and doesn’t take life serious. You are in college, you have goals and a career path you're determined to follow. You don’t seem to have much in common. But chemistry can not be manufactured, and it is strong between you. The mutual attraction is undeniable.

You resign yourself to accepting that this will be only about the sex. You are not getting your heart deeply involved with anyone, but a girl does have other needs. And holy shit, it’s the best

sex

your

life. Dean is on some next level shit that you’ve never experienced before. He leads you to do things you never thought you would try, let alone enjoy. Yes, even THAT.

Unexpectedly, he sticks around after these sessions and talks. He.likes.to.cuddle for Heaven's sake. He continually surprises you and challenges some of your former decisions about the type of person you thought he was. During these frequent talks you realize there is more to this guy than you originally imagined. Underneath that confident bravado lurks

thoughtful,

dare you say,

sensitive,

person? He actually listens to and your crazy rants about school, feminism, the lack racial representation on the local news staff. The very topics you were lead by your Ex to believe were too intense for others. Dean actually tries to get to know you, asking you a lot of unexpected questions. He went with you when volunteered at the local homeless shelter. Helping people by action, not lip service seems to be another thing you have in common. You realize that are both closest to your Dads. Dad owns his own car dealership and is active in your hometown. Dean connects with his Dad through a mutual love of vintage cars, fishing trips (that's what you pretend he meant when he said “hunting” trips), and work. He leaves town. You knew it was coming but you take it harder than you care to admit. You will never see him again, probably,

maybe,

you’re sure

you won't. He is working in “the family business,” which you’re not sure about. Accident claim adjusters - they travel a lot. They investigate accidents for insurance companies. His mother died when he was a kid, and his dad was really messed up about it. He has a younger brother who “abandoned” (Dean's words) the family biz to go to college. He listens when you share your opinion that his brother may have just not done anything wrong by trying something different.

Lucky for you, there were no commitments made on you part. You’re a realist, after all. He could easily have a girl-in-every-area-code type situation going on. Like the US Military you adopt the don’t ask, don’t tell policy. Again, no commitments were made. Of course, because life could never be too easy,

you can’t

stop

thinking

about

him. You find yourself listening to the classic rock stations, voluntarily…It’s getting as bad as it could get. You press on, throw yourself into school and work. You proudly tell yourself that you hadn’t thought of him, like, all day (!!), as you are thinking of him. You are completely NOT falling in love with this guy. Nope,. Not you. You are too smart to put your hopes into someone so…nomadic in his life, right? Then he calls. “I can't stop thinking about you,” he blurts out, in the middle of a catch-up session. “Well, that’s nice, Dean. I appreciate that,” is what you imagined saying. However, you open you big, beautiful mouth and admit that you feel the same way about him. Aarrgghh! “Can I see you again?” “Well, of course.” It happens easier than you could have ever believed - you grow closer. He visits for a couple weeks,

leaves,

comes

back,

and leaves

again,

but you make this long- distance thing work. The relationship gets deeper, still. Soon you are telling him things you’ve never admitted out loud: your mom’s racist father who was forbidden from having any contact with you, the asshole who broke your heart and who was now engaged to your former best friend…It pours out as you lay tangled in Dean’s strong, muscled embrace. Of course this was usually after he fucked you **dizzy**, loved your body from head to toe like he was detailing his car. (With anyone else this would be unappealing. But Dean really took excellent, thorough care of his car.). The euphoric high that you created together massaged your emotional courage, causing the inner floodgates to open a little wider each time, and confessions poured out. At times, you could be just sitting in “Baby” (you have semi-mostly-accepted that you are actually dating a guy who treats his car like a woman), listening to the calming beat of the rain poured down outside, cocooned from the rest of the world and he would share little morsels of information about his past, and what he hoped for the future. That was the heart if it all: Hope. The light- bringing that happens in a real friendship.

Graduation was coming soon, and a few opportunities were on the table, back in your hometown and another market. You start to imagine and plan a future, and though you try and test, you can't see it all happening without Dean.

There

were

some

Red flags. His Dad is less than enthusiastic about the relationship and seems to worry that Dean will leave like his brother. And you wonder if he’s really faithful while he’s in the road for days or a couple weeks at a time. Nothing seems quite as stable or predictable as you would like. But God, you love him. Therefore, the eventual cracks appear, as you knew they would.

****** “So, your brother doesn’t know about me?”

He was telling you about Sam possibly asking his girlfriend to marry him. Their communication was sporadic, but his younger brother would inform him about major news, usually after the fact. This time he wanted Dean’s input beforehand and Dean was clear about his position. You were sitting in Baby, a couple hours after he got Sam’s voicemail.

“It can’t work.”

The boy could be stubborn, digging his heels in when his position was challenged.

“They seem to have similar goals. From what you’ve told me he feels supported by her. I mean marriage is not my thing, but Sam is obviously more traditional than we are.” Dean seemed surprised, definitely not happy about what you said “ So you - we- are non-traditional? You don’t want to get married?” Before you could answer or explore his question further, he moves on. “I mean…Forget it. Sam can’t do this. It’s not who we are.” You don’t waste your breath arguing when he’s in this mood. You are intrigued by this situation, however.

“So what does Sam think of you and our relationship” I ask. It was THAT pause that pierced your happy bubble. It was a small hesitation, but it was there.

“He…He doesn’t take me serious when it comes to, uh, you know- dating.”

“So he thinks we're just casual?” “Do I have to remind you that the communication with my brother stinks?” “Ahhh….So you haven’t told him you have a girlfriend. In fact, maybe you haven’t even bothered to tell yourself.” It was awful timing. Your editor- took credit for your work, and then he had the nerve to imply that you didn't belong in that kind of work. And in spite of being careful with Dean, you had a false positive pregnancy that deepened your speculation about what a future with Dean Winchester would look like.

What kind if Dad would he be?

What kind of Partner/ Husband would he be?

Where would you even live? You were ready to go into your apartment, alone to think about next step. You were a damn fool. (He has to be an Oscar-worthy actor to fool you.) He had never been serious about you. (But why would travel so far and so much to see you? Never once did he complain about driving so far). You were grabbing your purse, hand reaching for the door handle when he said it. “Cassie, I love you.” “What?!” He reached over you and made sure the door was closed. He grabbed your hands, looked you deep in your eyes, and stated firmly, “I love you. And while I’m being completely honest…It scares the shit out of me. I don’t know what I’m doing.” “I need to trust you. I mean what are you doing when you're not with me? Do you know I’ve told my family about you?” “What did you tell them?” He smiled proudly. His enthusiasm nearly made you forget you were hurt and mad at him. “That you were handsome, funny, and that you take good care of me….Everything but the sexy parts.” “You didn’t tell Mom and Dad about that new position we tried last night? Or how big my C…?” “No! Especially, not about you being the biggest I've ever had.” “Well, I like hearing that but your parents knowing would make family dinners seriously awkward Some of the tension is released as you laugh it out.

“Here’s the truth. If I tell my little brother that I’m serious about this beautiful, smart, sexy girl, but NORMAL girl, things would never be the same because there will be tragic consequences.“

(Normal?) “Did you grow up on a religious cult?” “No…” “Is it because I’m black.” “Hell NO…” “Then what do mean by consequences?” He was silent, he looked inexplicably grief-stricken. Then something else struck me. In all this craziness I forgot to respond to the most important thing he said (besides the part about me being beautiful, sexy and smart…) “Dean, you wanna know when I knew I loved you and that I was all yours? Tracey’s birthday party. You dressed up in pants of a non-denim quality and wore a tie for my boss's little fancy dinner. That alone was enough to warm my little pessimist heart. Then we get there and you held your own with all their little shallow concerns. But what really got me was the kids.” “Haley and Henry? I mean how could you not feel sorry for a 10 year old with such a Grandpa- esque name?” “I hate to agree, but...Any how, none of them wanted to be bothered with kids and Tracey was stressed out and her husband was frankly useless, as usual. And you, Mr. Tough Guy charmed them, scooped them up took them to the play room and you were so good with them. I was able to imagine…”

Shit, you confessed more than you had intended. “Able to imagine…What?” He prompted. You’re supposed to be a fearless journalist and you can’t just say how you feel??

You take a deep breath and went for it. “I could see us with a house full of family and friends and you being this…Dad. A great one.” “you mean like a DILF?!”

“ Not quite where I was going with it, but total DILF for me. In other news, I could see you being a great Dad.”

“Don’t sound so surprised!” “I’m sorry! So what other surprises do you have for me?” You had no idea at that time about

the

bomb

of a

secret he would drop on you soon enough.. *** Now, here you are.

You weren’t sure he would have the same number, but it was working…ringing right now. You could feel your blood pressure rise, your heart speed up its beats…You hang up. But there would be no calming down for long while.

Okay, fearless, relatively successful journalist - where were your Lady-balls when you needed them? And most of…Dad. You had to find out what really caused the accident that killed Daddy.

This time you stayed on the line. Dean answered on the 4th ring, sounding irritated, grumpy. “Dean?” Even though you knew it was him. Grief-brain was a bitch. “Yeah?” He was distracted. You felt dismissed, a totally irrational response… “Hi, this is…” “ Cassie?!” “Yes.” You feel relief mixed with nervousness, folded into and the constant mental and physical ache of unexpected LOSS…The tears refuse to leave you alone and to not be cried. “What’s wrong?” How did he know? You can hear the worry in his voice. “Dean, it’s my Dad.“ And here comes the burning eyes, the tears… "He was killed last night.” “God, Cassie...I'm so sorry. I know how close you were.” “Thank you. This will sound completely insane, and I feel silly for even asking you this, but…About your Family’s Business, did you tell me the truth? Is that a real thing?” “Yes, it is, “ he said with finality. You wiped the tears from your cheeks, hold back sniffles before you turn into a mess on the phone with your ex-boyfriend, who is probably still upset at you. "I have no right to ask you...”

“I'm there. Just tell me where.”

And he came.

THE END.

#dean and cassie #cassie robinson #dean x cassie #route 666 #spn 1x13 #dean winchester #Jensen Ackles #megalyn echikunwoke #writing-little-nothings #blackcaptainrogers #mango-blogs #jensenhandsome #cassi-dean #michonneswife #blipsterinsverige #awhiskeywithawinchester

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1thousandminus7 · 7 years

Text

Ready or Not

A little something I wrote since I am UTTERLY OBSESSED with Yuri on Ice right now. It will also be up on my Ao3 account- same username, same title.

Summary: There are always going to be problems with their age. Yuri wants to prove he’s adult enough for Otabek, but maybe he needs to learn that innocence isn’t such a bad thing after all. Basically just pure fluff.

Rating: T

I can't believe I'm doing this. I can't believe I'm actually doing this.

Yuri Plisetsky leaned against the rail surrounding the rink, watching his- rival? Friend?- Katsuki Yuuri choreograph his latest routine. He knew Yuuri came here regularly, and had come here deliberately looking for him, because he needed- oh god it hurt to even think it- he needed relationship advice. And, well, he couldn't exactly go to Victor. Victor was... flighty, to say the least. He'd probably say some meaningless drivel about how he had to figure it out himself, and then lapse into some sickening story about himself and Yuuri. And by god, Yuri did not need to know about Yuuri and Victor's sex life. He knew that Yuuri came here on his own on purpose, the two of them having mutually decided their routines should be entirely secret until the day of the competition. That way they couldn't deliberately one-up each other in practice. Which meant that he was the only one here. Well, this was probably the best opportunity he was going to get, Yuri supposed, so he'd best get on with it.

It had started... a while ago, he supposed. After the GPN, he had begun to spend more and more time with his new friend. Otabek was good company, and he found himself looking forward to visiting whenever he had the opportunity. Then, one night he'd sat down and considered his actual opinions of the man, and come to the conclusion that maybe- just maybe- his attitude towards the Kazakh was not entirely platonic. And whilst he was a very prickly person, he did have a habit of wearing his heart on his sleeve. It was only a matter of time before his stumbled sentences and frequent blushing around the older man came to his notice. One night, Otabek had suggested they see each other, to which Yuri had enthusiastically agreed. He had felt a now familiar bubble of joy in his chest as Otabek held out a helmet for him to take, and he had climbed onto the back of the motorbike he was so accustomed to. Arms around the Kazakh's waist, he had watched as streets, cars and buildings blew past them, until he stopped outside... an apartment block? Otabek had always taken him out somewhere, whether to eat,to a fair, to the cinema, it didn't matter. Never back here. Otabek had invited him into the flat he was staying in during his time in Russia, and had sat him down on his sofa. At this point, Yuri's stomach was tying itself in knots as he wondered what exactly was going to happen. Otabek had given him one of his soft, rare smiles as he'd gone to the little kitchen he had, and came back with two coffees. Yuri's was perfect- full of sugar, just how he liked it. Then he'd sat beside him, and said that dreaded sentence.

"I think we need to talk."

Yuri hoped the way his hands were shaking wasn't too obvious to the older man as he tried to play it casual.

"About what?"

Otabek took a sip from his mug, the picture of calm, and then said without missing a beat, "You have feelings for me, don't you?"

Yuri had almost choked on his coffee, having to put it aside to stop his coughing. He swore he heard a small exhale of air which might have been a laugh from his friend.

"What? No, I... I'm not- Maybe Katsudon's rubbing off on me." He made a lame excuse, but he knew it was already too late. He could feel the humiliating flush across his nose and cheeks, a surefire sign. He huffed and turned away, looking surly. This time, Otabek did laugh- only a short, quiet laugh, but still.

"You can only interact with so many fans before you start to notice these things." He told Yuri, his voice soft, in no way mocking. Yuri chanced a look at him, saw that he too had put his drink aside, and was looking down at his clasped hands.

"...Is that gonna make things weird?" Yuri asked, still mad at himself for being so obvious.

"I don't know." Otabek turned to face him, his expression serious. "You're sixteen. I'm nearly twenty."

"So?" Yuri blurted before he could help himself. "Victor's like five years older than Katsudon. They seem to get on well enough."

"They're both adults."

Yuri's eyes widened slightly, and he felt himself flush again, angry now. "So I'm a child to you?"

"That's what I need to know." Otabek looked him in the eye. "Are you serious about this? I won't lie and say I haven't... thought about you." Yuri's breath hitched. He searched Otabek's face, looking for anything that could tell him what he needed to know- does he like me, too? "But I won't entertain a puppy crush. I need to know that you're sure you want this."

Yuri blinked. He glanced over his friend- his dark, serious eyes, his hair, still windswept from their ride, the confidence with which he held himself. And listened to the flutter in his stomach.

"Yeah. I do."

"Have you been in a serious relationship before?"

"Uh, not really. Haven't really had time."

"Hm." Something in Otabek's expression shifted, and for a moment, Yuri was scared that was going to be a deal breaker. Then he smiled again, quietly amused. "The press is going to tear us apart, you know that, right?"

"Tch." Yuri sniffed. "Fuck them."

Otabek laughed properly, something that happened rarely enough that it made Yuri smile every time he heard it.

"Yeah." Then he sobered up. There was a moment of silence, which Yuri didn't know how to break, and then Otabek moved. He moved closer to Yuri, so they were face to face, and Yuri had to swallow to fight the sudden dryness in his mouth. "...May I?" The dark haired man asked, and Yuri nodded, though he was suddenly painfully nervous. Somehow, being close to Otabek made him feel an awful lot like he did before a performance. The older man seemed to sense this, because he raised a hand to Yuri's cheek in a comforting gesture before he closed the distance.

Yuri didn't know what to do. Otabek's lips were warm, and slightly damp. His hand on Yuri's cheek felt nice, and the way he moved caused Yuri's face to heat up, and a strange, but not unpleasant sensation to settle in his stomach. Should he- was it okay to touch back? Should he try to take control, or just... let Otabek do what he wanted? He wanted to reach out, to touch Otabek's chest, to move closer, but he didn't know if that was okay, if that was the right thing to do. So instead, he just closed his eyes and returned the kiss to the best of his ability. He felt Otabek's fingers thread through his hair, and heard himself sigh at the feeling. Otabek broke the kiss for a moment, kissed him once more, then pulled back. His eyes searched Yuri's face.

"Hm. Not bad."

Yuri blushed, and hit his shoulder lightly. "Shut up." He glared at the man for a moment, then the smile he was holding in escaped, and he shifted closer to Otabek, resting his head on the older man's shoulder, like he'd wanted to do for a while. Otabek seemed to stiffen slightly, shocked by the move, then relaxed, his arm resting around Yuri's slim shoulders.

"Beka?"

"Mm?"

"Are we dating now?" Yuri turned his head, nestling into the space where the collar of his shirt gave way to skin. He smelled of leather, like the jacket he wore.

"If you want to," came the soft reply.

Then I guess we are, Yuri thought with a smile.

At first, not much was different. It was mostly on Yuri's part that things changed. He slowly tested boundaries, finding out what he could get away with. Leaning on Otabek's shoulder when they sat together, holding on just a fraction tighter when they were on the bike, just little touches. Otabek was, as with everything, reserved in his affections, though he did steal kisses from time to time, and was quick to rest a protective hand on his boyfriend's hip whenever they encountered one of "Yuri's Angels". As predicted, news spread quickly. When Victor found out, he seemed overjoyed, though it took him mere seconds to lapse into full parent mode and lecture a horrifically humiliated Yuri on being safe. Yuuri had apologised and tugged Victor away, stating that he was sure the young Russian knew how to take care of himself. Yuri had responded by yelling at both of them for being stupidly overprotective, and vowed to never share any details of their relationship with the older couple. Otabek only smiled and promised to do right by him, prompting Yuri to irritatedly remind him that they were not, in fact, his parents. His grandpa was unsure at first, reminding Yuri gently of Otabek's age, and worrying that the older man would take advantage of him. Yuri was adamant to change his mind though, and after meeting the Kazakh, he seemed to relent with only mild threats should Otabek hurt his grandson.

And then the inevitable happened. Someone had managed to catch the pair of them on camera, and two days later a photo depicting them sat on a park bench, Otabek's arm around Yuri and Yuri pressing a kiss to his cheek, was all over social media. Responses were mixed. Many of Yuri's fans seemed heartbroken ("Wait, they actually thought they had a chance with me?"), with some even going as far as to accuse the now-famous skater couple Victor and Yuuri of 'corrupting' him. And, as Otabek predicted, the media was vilifying him for being with the younger man, questioning his intentions. It didn't seem to get to him, though. He told Yuri after a particularly nasty Otabek Altin: Hero or villain? article made the rounds that the only person he needed to prove himself to was Yuri himself, prompting Yuri to accuse him of being as disgustingly cheesy as Victor. He would never admit that the comment had made his heart skip a beat.

So what was his problem? Well, as their relationship progressed, they became more comfortable with each other. Though in public they were never anything but chaste, behind closed doors their interactions became more and more intimate. Gentle kisses turned into full-on making out, and more than once, Yuri had left his mark on the older man. And yet... every time he tried to push it further, Otabek would stop him. If he tried to slip his fingers under the Kazakh's shirt, he would feel a gentle touch on his wrist, if he tried to trail kisses down the older man's chest, he would pull him up to resume kissing his lips. Yuri wasn't brave enough to bring it up in conversation, but in the back of his mind, he was beginning to worry. What if Otabek didn't like him like that? What if he didn't find him attractive? Was he doing something wrong? So here he was, about to ask- he swallowed, feeling his pride slipping through his fingers- Yuuri Katsuki for sex advice.

"Oy! Katsudon!" He yelled. Yuuri glanced over from where he was skating a perfect arabesque, bringing his skate back to the ice so he could change direction towards Yuri.

"Oh, Yurio!" He gave him a smile and a wave, which Yuri returned with a glare. He glided to a stop against the rail where Yuri leaned. "What are you doing here? Not here to see my competition routine, are you?"

"No, idiot. I can win without cheating." He scratched at a mark on the railing, already feeling a blush start to show on his cheeks.

"Oh. Well, I'm leaving the rink in a half hour so if you can wait-"

"I'm not here to skate." He snapped. Then he huffed, not quite making eye contact. "I need advice."

"Advice?" Yuuri looked surprised, pushing dark hair out of his face. "Has something happened between you and Otabek?"

"Not- not really. Actually, that's... kind of the problem."

"Huh?" Yuuri frowned.

"Nothing's happening! I keep- I keep trying and he doesn't respond! He stops me before I can do anything!" Yuri gestured vaguely in a random direction, expressing his pent-up frustration. "It's like he's not interested in me!"

Yuuri held his confusion a moment longer, then realisation dawned on his face. "Oh. Oh." He blushed, figuring out what Yuri wanted from him.

"I can't believe I'm asking this, but how do I get him to put out?"

"Yurio, aren't you... you know, a bit young?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, I'm sixteen! I'm legal!"

"It's not about the law, Yuri." Yuuri leaned against the rail beside him. "It's about if you're ready or not." He smiled softly. "You know, it actually took Victor and I a while to-"

"Shut up!" Yuri clapped his hands over his ears. "I deliberately came to you instead of Victor so I could avoid hearing about your- that."

"Ah, sorry." Yuuri laughed, rubbing the back of his neck in a slightly embarrassed manner. "I'm just saying. You know what I was like when I first met him."

"Yeah, I do, Katsudon."

"So it's okay if you take your time. Have you tried talking to him about it."

"Tch." Yuri picked at a spot of flaking paint. "No."

"Why not? Do you feel like you can't talk to him about things?"

"No! He's- I trust him. But I don't know. How would I bring it up? It feels... just... ugh, no."

"Hmm." Yuuri regarded him. "Do you think it might be because you're nervous?"

"What? No, I'm not nervous." He looked away, considering himself. Was he? Maybe a little. Otabek was older than him. More mature. Maybe that did scare him a bit. Not enough to put him off altogether, though, right?

"I think you should think it over. Make sure it is what you actually want."

Yuri glared at him. "You're useless."

"Ah, sorry Yurio. There are some things you've gotta figure out yourself."

"Whatever." He turned to leave.

"See you around!"

"Yeah. Have fun or whatever." With that he left Yuuri to it, shoving his hands in his pockets and thinking. He found himself fidgeting with his phone in his pocket, and it didn't take long before he took it out and brought up Otabek's number.

"Yura?"

"Hey, Beka. Can I come over tonight?"

"Of course. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. I just want to see you. Is that a crime?" He said, and then berated himself for being so defensive.

"...No." Otabek sounded mildly taken aback. "Should I cook?"

"Um. Yeah. That sounds nice. I'll... I'll come see you after practice, yeah?"

"Mm. See you."

"Love you." Yuri said before he could help himself. There was a pause at the other end of the line, then a soft, "Love you too." The dial tone sounded, and Yuri put his phone

back in his pocket, trying to will away the furious blush on his face. So now what? Am I gonna confront him about it? Tonight? Fuck.

Later in the day, he made his way to the rink where Otabek practiced, signing himself in and pulling on his skates. Making his way to the ice, he caught Otabek practicing jumps, and watched as he glided through a mohawk turn into a triple flip with perfect poise, the height of the jump impressive enough to pull a gasp from the gold medallist. He noticed Yuri as he rounded the ice again, and held up a hand in greeting. A small spray of ice kicked up from the outside edge of his skate as he slid to a halt.

"Yura."

"You could have made that a quad, you know." Yuri pointed out, stepping out onto the ice to join him.

"That's the goal." The older man watched as Yuri made his way to the centre of the rink, doing a few basic moves as he did so. "Have you mastered it yet?"

Yuri didn't reply, instead speeding into a three-turn and leaping from the ice. His lack of preparation meant his form wasn't perfect, and as he landed he stepped out, but he landed it, and he smirked at the impressed look on Otabek's face. "Getting there."

"You'll have it perfected by the competition, I'm sure." He caught up with Yuri, placing one hand on his waist and taking Yuri's with his other so they moved along together for a moment.

"Do you think we should do a pair skate?" Yuri asked, somewhat out of the blue as he turned to face Otabek, their fingers laced together.

"Maybe. I've never tried pair skating before."

"Neither. I was never strong enough to do the lifts."

They skated for a while, showing off moves and just generally enjoying themselves. Having very different styles, they both found they could learn from the other, though Otabek told Yuri he didn't think he'd ever be able to get his leg above his head the way the other did. Yuri responded by doing a perfect Biellman spiral, showing off his balance and flexibility.

Eventually, they grew tired and left the ice, returning to Otabek's apartment. They ate together, Yuri having discovered that the Kazakh was actually a half decent cook, and settled down for the evening. It wasn't until then, cuddled up to Otabek on the older man's sofa that he thought about his problem again. Should he say something...? No, he didn't want to make it awkward. So instead, he pressed a kiss to Otabek's jaw, looking for attention. The Kazakh looked down at him, then caught his lips in a proper kiss. He was soft at first, but Yuri chased him, looking for passion. He grasped at Otabek's shirt, and felt the familiar threading of fingers through his hair. Wanting more contact, he moved into Otabek's lap, deepening the kiss. His hand toyed with the collar of the older man's shirt, and he could feel the line of his collarbone beneath it. A shiver went through him, and he trailed kisses down Otabek's jaw and throat, hearing the catch in his breath when he bit down, taking the time and care to leave a mark. He trailed his fingers down Otabek's chest, down to his hip. He felt his partner's shiver when he brushed bare skin, but once again, when he tried to push up the hem of Otabek's shirt, to touch him properly, he felt long fingers around his wrist, stopping him. Instead of immediately pulling his hand back though, like he usually did, he left it there, tracing the line of Otabek's hip lightly with his thumb. He paused with his kisses as well, knowing that if he didn't say anything now, his chance would have passed.

"Hey, Beka..." He murmured. "Why do you always stop me?"

Otabek was quiet for a moment. "Because I don't want you to do something you'll regret."

That made Yuri sit up, and look him in the eye. "You think I regret any of this?"

"No." The Kazakh's hand left his wrist, going instead to rest on his thigh. "I don't. But I also think you don't want to go further."

"Why not?" Yuri couldn't help the irritated edge slipping into his tone. Otabek regarded him for a second or two, his dark eyes pensive. Then he tapped lightly on his leg.

"Up." Yuri blinked in surprise, but then Otabek repeated the action, and he obeyed, climbing off. Otabek stood, and took his hand, leading him to- to-

Oh.

Was this really happening? Otabek led him to the bedroom, pushing the door shut behind him and returning to Yuri. He leaned in to kiss him again, gently guiding him backwards as he did so, until Yuri felt the backs of his knees hit the bed. He lost his balance, falling back onto it, and felt a flush on his cheeks as he looked up at his boyfriend, his heart beating a little faster than normal. Otabek climbed onto the bed above him, his body warm and heavy on top of Yuri's. They moved so Yuri's head rested on the pillows, and Otabek gave him a moment to get comfortable before kissing him again, taking his hand and guiding it back to where it had been, against his hip under his shirt. Yuri's breath hitched again, not knowing what to do now he had permission to touch. He let out a shaky breath as Otabek kissed his neck, tracing his fingers hesitantly up the line of his partner's spine. He heard the other make a soft noise of appreciation at the touch, and felt Otabek's own hand on his hip, his touch light against the V-shape of his hipbone. He shifted against the touch, suddenly insecure about how thin he was. Compared to Otabek, who he could tell had the perfectly toned musculature that most male skaters had to some degree, he felt so... delicate. Small. His heart pounded in his chest, and he had to put significant effort into breathing normally, so much so that when Otabek pushed his leg between Yuri's thighs, he audibly gasped, taken by surprise.

"Beka..." He tugged lightly on the back of Otabek's shirt, but his partner already seemed to have picked up on Yuri's train of thought, because almost as soon as he heard Yuri's gasp, he pulled back, looking down at Yuri with a softly fond expression. Yuri found himself at a loss for words as he looked up. All he could do was look, as he tried to calm his shaking nerves. Otabek brushed his hair from his face lightly.

"Are you okay?"

Yuri felt the blush across the bridge of his nose, and he scowled and looked away. "Alright. You've made your point."

"What point? I was just making out with my boyfriend." He lay beside Yuri on the bed, somehow managing to look nonchalant.

"Innocence doesn't suit you."

"It suits you." Otabek kissed his cheek lightly.

"Shut up. I'm not innocent."

"Your Agape says otherwise."

"And what if Victor had assigned me Eros? What would you think of me then?"

"Hmm." Otabek looked up, pensive. "Probably impure things."

"What, you don't do that already?" Yuri smirked at him. "I think of you."

"That doesn't surprise me." Otabek teased him. "I hope I measure up."

That made Yuri snort with laughter. "Beka, was that a pun?"

"A completely sincere pun." He smiled, and Yuri cuddled up to him, sighing softly.

"I'll find out one day."

"Take your time, Yuratchka. I love you either way."

"Love you too, Beka."

#otayuri #yuri plisetsky #otabek altin #yuri on ice #fanfic

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