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seokiloquy · 3 years ago

Text

Published - Japan National Team

Au: Regular (timeskip)

Requested

Tags/Warnings: GN!Reader, fictional locations, Reader centric story.

Word Count: 5k

You were yawning between heavy wheezes for air as you ran down the hallway of Japan’s national sports facility. Each step of the way you zipped past another gym with another team sparing glances through the glass doorways to see if they were the group you were supposed to be with. They weren’t.

The shoulder strapped bag with all your loose paperwork bounced on your back, you hoped nothing would be damaged in your trek through the facility halls. Checking wouldn’t be possible until you returned home though. In your arms, you carried a large tub of iced water, ready to fill water bottles when needed, that sloshed and made your weight unbalanced. Then, as extra compensation, you carried another bag that was stuffed with all kinds of onigiri, every last one from the store.

Once you found them, you stopped at the doors, taking one last chance to get in a big yawn before pushing through the doors.

“I’m here! Sorry sorry! I brought extra water and food! I’m so sorry for being late!”

It was still early morning, the sun was painting half the sky a soft yellow. Some of the assistant coaches and physical trainers rushed over, picking the hefty weight from your arms and shoulders. You yawned as they did, walking over to the head coach and giving him the deepest bow you could muster, nearly sending your head careening towards the floor.

“I’m so sorry!”

The man patted your shoulder, urging you to stand straight. “I want to be empathetic, but you really must be punctual. We only just started warm-ups, so it’s alright today, but please try to be here on time.”

You opened your mouth to speak, only to yawn again. Shoes squeaked as the trainers that came to help got back onto the court, but you could barely hear it over the sound of your blood pumping.

“Did you get enough sleep?”

You blinked blearily at the man. “I still have my normal job to keep up with while the Olympics carry on sadly. I’m in charge of a team now, so no off days!”

The coach’s brows shot up as he let out a huffy laugh. “Ah! So you managed to get your project off the ground? How’s it going for you?”

“Pretty good actually it pays decently well, and I love it even if I work long hours. But I’ll never stop supporting this team for anything!”

“Hmm, might I have come across your work?”

“Oh?” Would it be wise to reveal that you had gotten an adaptation deal and the first episode was met with raving reviews from viewers and critics alike? “Well…”

“Hibarida.” As they always do, athletic trainers came to the rescue. Iwaizumi was light on his feet, bouncing in a stationary jog. “We’re gonna take the guys for a run around the facility, the air-conditioning is keeping them a bit too cold right now.”

Hibarida nodded before turning your way again, letting Iwaizumi take control of the team for the time being. You silently watched as the group of men jogged out of the gym.

“How about we fill up their water bottles for when they get back?” Hibarida grinned sharply, making the hairs of his moustache tuck into his smile lines. He was already picking up the discarded water bottles, putting them in a carrying bag. Your water cooler would be left for when the players needed a quick refill.

Ushijima was, unsurprisingly, the first player back, dragging an athletic trainer a few steps behind him who looked as though he had just walked through the path of a sprinkler. Ushijima on the other hand seemed perfectly okay.

You handed him his water bottle, freshly filled and cold. He gave a low grunt of thanks along with a nod, before taking it.

Iwaizumi’s screams could be heard down the hallway of the facility, followed by a stampede of hurried steps that grew louder with every second.

Through the open glass doors came the iconic duo of the team, wide smiles (one more sinister than the other) on their faces as theory ducked through the doorway, each trying to get their heads through the door before the other.

You huffed a laugh before grabbing their water bottles, intercepting them before they ran across the whole gym.

“Boys! Boys! Cool it!” They nearly headbutted your stomach.

“Yah!”

Hinata howled, while Kageyama let out an annoyed grunt. Both rubbed the tops of their heads while giving you disgruntled looks. They would’ve hit you had it not been for their water bottles that you expertly wielded.

Smiling, you twisted their bottles and handed them over. “Aren’t you two supposed to be adults?”

The rest of the team followed suit, Iwaizumi leading them until they piled in, falling in line to get their water.

You yawned again, unable to stop yourself as you handed off the last couple of water bottles. Once free, your hands snapped back to cover your mouth. Strain from dropping your jaw built up by your ears. You groaned.

“Jumping drills. Go!”

Waddling back to Hibarida’s side, you tried to gather some semblance of consciousness while taking a seat on the metal bench. It was cold and stiff. The chill began to seep into your clothes. The air conditioner made a constant hum over your head. You yawned.

Yua’s back was being pelted by bullets of cold air as she screamed to her friends that were staring down at her with horrified expressions but unable to move a muscle. They were getting smaller and smaller, becoming mere specks of shadow against the blinding light behind them. Even their calls of her name became small squeaks, drowned out by the rushing wind by her ears.

“I’ll find you again! Keep going!” She hoped they heard her. But even her own voice sounded mute in her ears.

Her back stung, burning. The feeling in her fingers and toes seemed to have left her. But even with the complete numbness overtaking her body, Yua could feel the crashing force against her back and head as her breath was stolen from her lungs. She screamed again, but couldn’t hear it.

It was much warmer, comforting even, despite the rough surface she lay on.

She coughed, wheezing for every bit of air that her lungs could take.

“Towels.”

She wheezed again, fingers stretching against the ground.

“Towels?”

You shot up, air forcing its way into your chest as your eyes fluttered wildly.

Hibarida barked a laugh, “You sure took a cat nap. Feeling alright?”

“Ah,” you rolled your shoulders, hunching closer to the warmth that was enveloping you, “much.”

“Hmm, Good. The boys were worried, hope you don’t mind the extra layers.”

There was an enormous pile of track jackets enveloping every inch of your body from your neck to your feet. Every member of the team and staff seemed to have determined you to be a suitable clothing rack.

“Now that you’re up, do you mind fetching the towels? They’re getting pretty sweaty out there.”

The team had switched from warm-ups to combo drills. Rotating each player from one position to the next in quick succession. Each of their eyes was focused on the ball no matter where they were. You smiled, listening to the squeaks of their sneakers against the shiny floor.

You wrestled with the jackets. “I’ll get the mop too.”

“Smart thinking.”

“It’s only for this month until the Olympics are done for the team and then I’ll be back full swing, I promise.”

“Boss, We’ve had an increase in viewership! What if people stop reading because of a style change?”

You pressed your phone into your ear with your shoulder, listening to one of your assistants as he rattled in your ear. With free hands, you expertly moved between your sketchbook, notebook and laptop.

“Yuto, I promise that won’t happen. You four will just have to take up more linework than normal for the next few weeks. I will still be sending over the rough sketches for you all to work off of and we can have meetings during lunch. And, I’ll even give you all a temporary raise for all the work you’ll be doing to compensate for my absence. Okay?”

“Well, a raise never sounds too bad. But, boss, we’re always pressed for time every week as it is.”

You dropped your pencil, turning to your laptop where you began to compile a file. “I’ll add some of the rough work now, so you can get a head start for next week. How does a 20% raise each sound, for the time being?”

“Well, I suppose we can work a few extra hours every day for that.” He was mumbling.

You clicked your mouse, sending the files in. “Done. And Yuta, it’s not like I‘m stepping away from Forever Landing. Don’t worry.”

“Forever Landing?”

Maybe working in the lunch hall wasn’t the best idea. Bokuto and Hinata stood behind you, gripping their trays that were piled with food. You shut your books and laptop.

“Hey, Yuto, I gotta go. Work hard.”

You hung up before he could reply.

Bokuto was wearing a bright smile, teeth twinkling as he began to chatter about the series. Hinata popped in as well, jumping to speak when something came to mind. The two bounced back and forth, jumping from one topic to another, one plotline to the next, one character to the other, none stop without any break for breath.

Bokutos favourite character was Mehrya, the giant of the main group. Standing at ten feet tall, and built with thick muscle, she was the group’s strength powerhouse. Hinata expressed his love for the story’s second lead, Akyo. A shapeshifter that used his abilities to take the form of other people so that he could otherwise go unnoticed.

“What about you?” They looked eager.

You gulped, “Well I like Yua of course. She’s strong and caring. I think her abilities are cool.”

Yua, to her right, was merely a human. She was raised in a farming town, where her job was limited to doing routine checkups three times a day, and climbing tall trees when one of the cats got too high up. It was when she left home for university and stumbled upon the wrong history class that she was tied up in her current mess. Her abilities aren’t anything that she didn’t already have a skill in, primarily climbing. But the history professor, or rather the myth and history professor, was a kind witch that took her in, teaching her about the mystical world that hid in the shadows of constructed reality she grew up in and how to survive in it.

“I’m still a bit baffled. You two watch Forever Landing? It’s targeted towards teen girls.”

Bokuto blinked. “You watch it too.”

Fair enough.

“We read it too!” Hinata piped up with a big smile. “After watching the first few episodes I read it online before buying the books!”

Hearing about the likely illegal reading of your story online hurt your soul a bit. But you couldn’t fault the boy. You did it too from time to time.

“What do you think is gonna happen next?”

“Huh?”

“In the story! The team tried to fight the ‘big bad boob’” — you weren’t familiar with that name, likely a fan-made nickname for Borhan, the first (and actually just a puppet) antagonist of the series — “and are failing, so they can’t try again! But they have to beat him.”

Bokuto grabbed Hinata’s tray, setting both of them down on the table across from you. The duo-toned haired player took a bite of his food, scarfing it down before he chimed in.

“I think they will find another member to join the team. So far it’s only the three of them, and their strengths are all pretty unbalanced.”

He wasn’t wrong. Yua only had a basic sense of knowledge, good balance, and strong hands. Akyo was a smooth talker, helpful, and smart, but besides shapeshifting, he wasn’t all that helpful in battle, he was after all just a mythic university student. Mehrya was the only one with any physical power, an athlete by nature, living off plenty of scholarship money.

You had been drafting another. One that would come up soon. An elf, and an archer. A recluse character that went into hiding. They would serve as an alternate love interest for Yua, not that romance was big in the series, but Akyo needed some way to further his own arc in the story. There was also concept art that had been fan-submitted for a set of twin sirens. You liked the idea and even sent the fan a triple page letter in response. Those two wouldn’t come up until another arc though.

“I think the plot might get split, Akyo and Mehrya don’t get along all the time, and Yua needs to build her strength separately from them. Don’t know how that would happen though.” Hinata blinked, sipping on his chocolate milk.

You stared at him, suddenly remembering the dream you had when napping on the bench. You flipped your book open.

“These look amazing! Great work!”

The files were filled with images with smooth black lines and consistent hash marks for shading. You looked at the expression on Yua’s face looking at the shading in her eyes as she looked up at Borhan, who was out of frame.

Through the virtual call, your assistants’ shoulders sagged in relief.

Your assistant artists, made up of your head assistant Yuto, along with the other three Kira, Jirou, and Kay, were all recent graduates when you got your hands on them.

Yuto, you met at a convention, a few months before your Forever Landing one-shot chapter made it into the weekly publishing run for Shojo Beat, (which got good reviews and was added to Shonen Jump a week later as a sample advertisement). Yuto was an intern for a publishing house, still in University and about to graduate when you pulled up his email and asked if he was interested in a job. His knowledge in publishing helped greatly with page layout and he had a knack for drawing as well. He was your only assistant for the first few weeks when Forever Landing was still in a trial period.

Kira and Jirou were attending an art and animation school when you went to their open showcase. You had just gotten the go-ahead to make Forever Landing a full-fledged series and needed more help.

Kira was studying animation, specifically film art and storyboarding, as well as a bit of concept design. She was an allrounder with a lot of skill, but with graduation on the horizon, she still didn’t know what she wanted to do.

Jirou, on the other hand, did and approached every person that attended their showcase in hopes to land her dream job. She was on the art side of things, painting, drawing, illustrating but loved manga and storytelling. She nearly tackled you to the ground when you mentioned being a published mangaka. Once hearing that you were looking for help, she offered herself for free labour and dragged you over to Jirou, who at the time was merely a schoolmate she admired. You accepted the help but insisted on paying for it.

Kay was still a high school student when you brought them on. Your old student counsellor, who was one of the few to know of your recent publishing as she helped guide you into it, had given you a call with the hope that you would take on an intern that didn’t have any post-graduation plans. Kay, like Kira, was an all-rounder, even more so. As a generalist, they found themselves picking up a lot of skills and knowledge without ever wanting to apply it in any way.

Unlike your other three assistants, who were hired mostly on a whim, you gave Kay a mock interview upon your counsellor’s request. It was more of a conversation than anything.

Kay had a surprisingly high grade average, along with awarded certificates from the school for their skill, volunteering, and participation in activities.

“You’re amazing,” you had whispered when looking over all the information.

“Most of it had to be collected from school records. I forgot about half of this stuff.”

“You’re really smart too.”

“I only got an 81% in math. I’m not that good of a student.”

You graduated with a 60%.

Kay was blind to their own skill. When you asked, they said they only went for courses they knew they could get good grades in with minimal effort on their part.

“What’s your ideal life, Kay?”

They had hummed, slumping into the plastic school chair and tucking their hands into their uniform’s pockets.

“Something easy, I guess. Where it feels like I’m just doing a hobby every day.”

“How are you with money and business?”

“Decent? Business is just social science with a scheme and money is mostly just simple math. I wouldn't want to be an accountant though.

“What sort of hobbies do you do?”

“I’ll doodle, play games, read.”

“Do you have a sketchbook?”

They did. At the time, you had to resist the urge to huff in disbelief. “Doodles” is an understatement.

“Have you heard of Forever Landing?”

Their eyes had lit up at the name.

You didn’t take Kay on as an intern. Once they graduated high school you hired them as an artist and assistant money manager to help Yuta, who was easily overwhelmed.

The team worked wonderfully together, even without your supervision.

“Okay onto story drafting. I’ve gotten the next few chapters written up and the next two sketched out. I’ll send them over now.”

Kira’s jaw dropped. “Already?”

“Yup! The next chapter will be a bit longer to create suspense, focusing on all the characters and how tired they are before ending with Borhan using his earth powers to send Yua falling into a pit, separating her from the team before running away.

“How did you draft this up so quickly?”

You looked at a polished sketch that currently was taking up the majority of the screen, admiring the linework and hashed shading. It was a single panel, meant to take up one whole page. At the top half of the image surrounded by white was Akyo’s hand, recognizable by the markings of his skin as it changed to a different colour, straining to reach and grasp at the other as it pulled away from him. At the bottom half was Yua’s, fingers just a hair away from being able to touch him as she fell into darkness.

“I was struck by inspiration. Following this, Yua will be in a deep cave where she meets Zehiro. While Yua is underground, Akyo and Mehrya are going to work together and try to get along. The chapters will alternate between the two pairs starting with Akyo.”

“Zehiro?” Jirou’s nose scrunched as she looked through the screen. “You mean the moody elf guy that’s gonna steal Yua away from Akyo? That guy?!”

“Yup, him.”

Jirou groaned and threw her head back. “I HATE THAT GUY!”

“You guys have the sketches and I’ll send the new chapter forward, okay?”

They agreed, Jirou albeit a bit begrudgingly.

Smiling, you end the call.

The team was walking from the lunch hall back to the gym when they intercepted you in the hallway. Hinata was smacking his lips, talking happily to Hyakuzawa when his attention was pulled away by the sound of the door closing behind you.

“Manager!” Suddenly all the eyes had turned your way.

You slid your laptop into your bag, along with the sketchbook. “Hey, did you all eat well?”

The question was met with pleasant hums and positive reviews of the meal.

“We’re even getting steak for dinner,” Miya smiled, pushing Hinata’s shoulder down when he began to bounce on his toes at the prospect of the hardy meal.

“Ooh, something to look forward to then.”

“Why were you in one of the offices and not at lunch?” Ojiro asked as the group began walking again.

Lifting the shoulder that carried your bag as you followed the group. “I had a meeting for work. I’m sorry I couldn’t join today.”

“You have another job?” Hoshiumi asked from behind you.

“Well, the Olympics only happen every four years!”

“I just figured you were the manager for another team!”

You were tempted to flick the white haired man in the forehead for his snooty tone. Of course, he thought you were only a team manager, he was surprised at the thought of anyone doing anything else other than volleyball.

Hinata pursed his lips but didn’t say a word, turning his head to avoid eye contact. Kageyama did the same, sucking back on his carton of milk.

Hakuba wrapped an arm around Ojiro’s shoulders, using his weight to make his significantly shorter teammate hunch over, while also stroking Ojiro’s bread. The man didn’t seem to mind, likely familiar with the action. They were on the same V league team after all.

The giant gave you an owlish look, practically ripping the expression from Bokuto’s face. “How did you get to be our manager then?”

Ojiro was soon saved from Hakuba, as the only taller member of the team, Hyakuzawa, pulled him off by the collar. Seeing them together was intimidating.

“Well, I was actually a volunteer manager of the U20 team for school purposes, I originally met Ushijima there actually.” The man gave a low hum when his teammates looked at him for confirmation. “Then when I graduated, it was Ushijima who asked if I could be a manager for the Olympic team.”

Hinata’s eyes seemed to bulge out of his head. “You and Ushijima must know each other really well then.”

“I actually wouldn’t say so, we don’t talk much, but we are familiar. I suppose he likes me enough to want to keep me around though.” Looking past the head of the team, you gave Ushijima a light smile. He nodded.

“Alright, warm-ups!” The captain seemed to have gotten eager to get to court.

Hibarida was waiting inside. “Keep it light, boys. You’re still digesting food. Stick with light cardio and stretch for at least the next half hour.” He looked to the captain, “You lead. The trainers will be back for individual assessments in a bit.

Walking past the team. You stood next to Hibarida and set your stuff down. “I’m going to go fill the water bottles and grab the fresh towels. Do you want anything?”

The man paused, stroking his bread in a large performative motion as he pursed his lips and stared at the ceiling in mock thought before hunching down and speaking in a whisper. “Can you grab me a cookie from the lunchroom?”

You hushed back, “Aren’t you supposed to set a good example?”

“You can grab them for the team too.”

“You are a bad influence.”

Hibarida gave you a cheeky smile, corners of his mouth curling like the Cheshire cat. You huffed.

“Grab two for yourself.”

“Fine.”

You pulled your pen across the screen at your desk, creating a thick black line against the bright white background. Deleting the line, you repeated the motion again and deleted it once more.

A creek came from your doorway letting a stripe of warm light break into the room. Briefly distracted by the intrusion, You blacked and looked up to the hunching shadow in the doorway. The room’s lights flickered on. Yuto stood before you, one hand on the switch.

“Boss? It’s nearly 3 am. Shouldn’t you be getting to sleep by now?”

Looking at the now visible clock on your wall, you sighed. The image before you was calling for your attention, begging to be completed. The tip of the pen touched the screen, you pulled a line.

“Once this panel is finished, I’ll sleep, it shouldn’t take me longer than another hour, I want it to be perfect.”

Yuto sighed, walking through the floor of your office to meet your side and look at the image you were working on.

“Hmm? That's not for the story. Unless you're planning to do something crazy.”

You chuckled. “No no, this is just for fun. A gift.”

“Alright, well then, Kira and I are gonna head to sleep, Jirou’s already crashed, and Kay headed home a while ago.” He patted your shoulder, walking back toward the door. “Would you like anything? Coffee? Tea?”

“No, I’ll be going to bed soon too. Sleep well.”

“I’m going to sleep like a cat in the sun.”

Life as a mangaka meant long hours, little sleep, and turning a house into an office so that your team could sleep if work went into the night. You didn’t mind, it was cheaper than renting an office space after all, and for your assistants, they found it cosy. Although Kay did have to go home to their parent’s most nights, labour laws. You made sure to pay them well and keep them fed.

Although it wasn’t ideal for their physical and mental health, you being gone had led them to getting ahead on work, as they didn’t want to fall behind. After the publication of the next volume, you rewarded their tireless effort with a free weekend and tickets to one of the Olympic volleyball games.

You could hear them cheering from your spot on the bench even before the game started. And their cheers persisted throughout the game.

Iwaizumi elbowed you, nodding to the energetic group as they waved. “Who's the quartet?”

“Employees.”

“Ah.”

When Ushijima came off the court, you rushed over with his bottle and a towel. It was the fifth set, and the game was being dragged out a lot longer than any ideal game. The team was slowly being swapped out, player for player until a new lineup was on the court.

When you held the two up for him to take a hold of, Ushijima instead let his forehead fall into your hand that the towel rested in. He was breathing heavily.

“Oh, that’s not good.”

Spinning around Ushijima’s form and wrapping your other arm around his back, You slowly guided him off the sideline to walk around the bench. Iwaizumi along with one of the medical attendants were already waiting, setting up a makeshift towel bed in a hurried fashion for Ushijima to relax into.

“Okay, big guy. Down you go.”

Iwaizumi got his hands on Ushijima's back, helping carry the player’s weight as he lowered himself onto the floor. Once settled, he grunted, opening his eyes wider and turning his head to try and see the game through his teammates' legs.

You plopped yourself down in his line of sight. “Nope. Rest for now.”

His eyes rolled beneath their eyelids.

The medical attendant hurried over with an ice pack and a thermometer, handing Iwaizumi the bag to shake up. “It’s likely exhaustion, paired with dehydration and overheating. You’ll be fine. Just need to cool off for a bit.”

At their words, you shuffled over to grab Ushijima’s water bottle out of the carrying case. It was still full.

“Ah, even the great Ushijima forgets about his own health sometimes.” Yaku had just come out of his rotation on the court, sucking back water like it was his last.

Ushijima took the bottle from your hands with a light grip when the ref’s whistle blew.

Looking up, you could see the other team’s coach calling for a time out, while one of his players was getting ice pressed into his lip.

These players were falling apart. Sighing, you got back to your feet and handed out their water bottles as they approached the side of the court. It would be over soon enough.

“Guys! Guys! Sudo-Nim shared art of the team! Look, Look, Look!”

You grinned.

“Who?” Komori, the nearest player to acknowledge Hinata’s howling, was immediately subjected to being forced down by Bokuto’s weight as he tried to get a closer look at the ginger’s phone screen.

“What’s it say?” Bokuto asked, hand reaching to scroll down on the article.

Suna had silently crept up to Hinata’s other shoulder alongside Miya and soon after the rest of the team had gathered for Hinata’s speech.

Hinata cleared his throat. “The anonymous mangaka, Sudo-Nim, acknowledges and compliments Japan’s National Volleyball team on their efforts in the Olympics with artwork of the team and supporting staff. The image depicts the team in their red uniforms surrounded by their coaching staff and trainers, imagining what the group would look like after their recent game.”

You took a seat next to coach Hibarida as the group of volleyball players began to surround Hinata as he read the article off his phone. Hibarida pulled it up for himself, deciding not to add to the large group of bodies.

“The first image depicts an illustration of the team and staff in poised positions not unlike any regular team photo while maintaining the artist's style. The second, shows the group in near shambles, making a light-hearted, comical depiction of the game’s aftermath. In the drawing, reflections of the group’s various personalities exude from the paper. One of many such characters is Ushijima, who calmly sits to the side of the group with his eyes closed, ice-pack against his head, thermometer in mouth, and water bottle in hand. In the even—”

“We get it, show us the art.”

A chorus of awe sounded from the group and your chest bloomed with a comforting warmth.

Hibarida nudged your shoulder, sliding the image of the art over. “So, a mangaka, huh?” something was cunning hidden behind his squinted eyes. Looking at the image, you couldn’t help but admire the resemblance of your artwork, trying not to laugh at the drawing of Hibarida’s mouth curling happily as he bit into a cookie while holding a small stack of them in his other hand.

You just smiled and gave him a happy shrug.

I don’t know, but I thought this was cute. I tried to get pretty much everybody of note mentioned at least once, even if it was only for a brief moment.

I’ve also been trying to exclude using “(Y/N)” while writing cause why not, some people don’t like it. It’s easy in 2nd person, or even 1st, but I’m not keen on writing in first, and it's hard to exclude in 3rd person (Unless the character has an alias of sort, like a superhero name, nickname, or title)

I’m already crying over school and wanting to drop out so that's fun. - Bacon

Posted: 16/01/2022

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karahalloway · 3 years ago

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Camping Was Intense - Part 2

This is my submission for the Drake’s Birthday Bash event hosted by @twinkleallnight. In addition, this is my second attempt at a Wacky Drabble. The Week 116 prompt is “I don’t believe you” and will appear in bold below. Happy reading!

Series: TRR - (Un)Common Attraction universe

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Synopsis: In Camping Was Intense, Harper organised (another) surprise birthday party for Drake that didn’t end up going as planned… This follow-up instalment answers the burning, unresolved question plaguing everyone’s mind from the end of Part 1, namely ‘Does Drake get to finish opening his birthday present?’ 👀👀

Word count: 1,887 (bit long, I know, but I managed to keep it under 2,000 words!! Normally I’d write this kind of scene about twice as long 😅)

Warnings: NSFW (much swearing and smutty smut)

A/N: Similarly to the previous instalment, this one also references some conversations / events from the main story line (people who have gone on a binge spree and have already read (Less Than) Noble Intentions (love you all! 😘) will probably recognise these, but if you haven’t yet, it won’t affect your enjoyment / understanding of this fic).

"Fuckin' Beaumont..." gripes Drake as I help him back to our tent. "Never invite him camping again."

"What the hell happened?"

"Nothing," he grumbles, pulling the bits of toilet paper from his nostrils to check whether his nose was still bleeding. His efforts are rewarded by a fresh gush of blood down his face. "...fuck's sake."

I cast him a sidelong glance as I offer him the rest of the roll. "You tried to sneak up on him, didn't you?"

"No," he mutters, tearing a new sheet off.

His momentary hesitation is all the confirmation I need.

"Why would you do that!" I exclaim.

"Thought it'd be funny? I dunno..." he shrugs, sticking the fresh wads up his nose. "He interrupted us with his late-night cooler raiding, so I wanted to get him back..."

I shake my head exasperatedly as we reach our tent. "I kinda want to say serves you right..."

He cocks a brow at me. "But?"

"...but it's your birthday, and you've already suffered enough, so I'll save it 'til the morning."

"Gee, thanks, Gale..." he says dryly, ducking into the tent after me. "Way t' make a guy feel special."

"Well, I had a whole plan for that, but—"

He grabs my wrist. "What plan?"

"It doesn't matter now. You've got a broken nose and—"

"It's not broken."

"You got wacked with an ice pack," I remind him. "That was still frozen. If that didn't break your nose, I don't kn—"

"Trust me, it ain't broken."

"I don't believe you. That amount of blood only comes from—"

"Busted noses always bleed a lot."

"You're just saying that because you want to finish what we started."

"Damn straight," he confirms, pulling me into him. "You got me a present that I actually like."

"And now it's going to have to go back in its wrapper until—"

"Fuck that," he growls, fingers digging possessively into my bare backside. "We're finishing this now."

I throw my head back with a laugh. "Dream on, cowboy! You're not banging me with toilet paper stuck up your nose."

"If it's that much of a problem, I'll take it out."

I snort. "So, you can bleed all over me? No thanks."

"What if you're on top?"

I heave a sigh. "Drake. I love you. And I'm sorry that the second half of the night crashed and burned. But sex is off the table until you're healed up."

His eyes widen. "You're not fuckin' serious..."

I hold his gaze uncompromisingly. "Yes. I am. You know as well as I that you need to keep your head elevated and avoid strenuous activity until the bleeding and the swelling subside. Otherwise, you're just going to make it all worse."

He glares at me like I just issued him a death sentence. "That could be up to two weeks."

"Best start resting up then, bud."

He mutters something profane under his breath as he pushes past me towards the sleeping bags, unbuckling his belt as he goes to push his jeans irately down.

I roll my eyes as I move to the bags to locate the first aid kit. Pulling it out, I shuffle over to Drake, who'd finished taking off his blood-splattered clothes and was now laying back on his sleeping bag in his boxers, arms crossed in a grump over his chest.

"You'd better be prepared to make up for this, Gale," he warns as I open the kit to extract a disinfectant wipe so I could mop the blood off his face.

"Oh, don't make it out like it's the end of the world, Walker," I chide, ripping the packaging open. "You'll be good as new before you know it."

"Yeah," he scoffs. "At the expense of blue balls."

"I don't think it'll get to that," I murmur, throwing a knee over him to settle myself on his hips.

I hear him suck in a breath, but he keeps his arms crossed and expression indignant. "Easy for you to say. You've never had blue balls."

"And neither have you," I counter, leaning forward to gently clean his mouth and chin, "even when we were apart for three weeks."

A groan hitches in the back of his throat as my lace-clad breasts graze his forearms. "Don't remind me. That was fuckin' torture."

"I wouldn't go that far," I say softly, tilting his head up to get at the blood under his chin. "It's not like you had to go completely cold turkey."

"Phone sex doesn't count," he grits, as I slowly pull back from him to drop the used wipe back in the first aid kit, my hair trailing along his chest in the process. "It's just glorified jacking off."

"It's a bit more than that," I point out, picking up the pot of arnica cream and unscrewing the lid. "You're forgetting the visual element of those video calls."

"That's what made it torture," he expounds, uncrossing his arms to slide his hands up my thighs as I lean over him again. "Seeing you, but not being able to touch you..."

I gasp as his hands round the curve of my ass.

"...to kiss you..."

His tongue darts out to lick my wrist as I massage the cream in around his nose, making me shiver.

"...to feel you start to quiver just before you fall over the edge..."

A low moan escapes me as he thrusts his hips up, the thin lace of the thong between my legs doing nothing to dampen the heat of his rekindled arousal straining against his boxers.

"Drake," I say with as much force as I can muster, looking him in the eye. "We shouldn't, and you know it..."

"But you want it as much as I do..." he insists, grinding our hips together in full knowledge of what that manoeuvre does to both of us.

My eyes flutter shut with a sigh as my body momentarily betrays me and I rock back against him.

Shit...

Opening my eyes, I fix him with a serious look. "Fine. We'll do one thing from the plan. On one condition."

Drake drops his head back with a groan. "What is it this time...?"

"You don’t move."

He jerks his head up in disbelief. "You can't be ser—"

"One twitch from you and we stop. Are we clear?"

I see the muscle in his jaw work disapprovingly before he grunts, “Crystal.”

"Good boy," I approve, dropping a kiss on his cheek.

"You’re going to be the death of me, Gale..."

"But, we're not doing anything until your nose has stopped bleeding."

He rolls his eyes at me as he reaches up to gingerly pull the paper from his nose. After waiting a moment or two, he says, "Looks like we're good."

"Hold tight, cowboy," I purr, leaning in to nip his ear. "You're in for a ride."

I hear the breath hitch in the back of his throat as I feather my tongue down his neck before moving lower to drop kisses down his chest and abs until I reach the waistband of his boxers. Grabbing the elastic with my teeth, I tug it down with the help of my hands, freeing his erection.

Running my palms back up his thighs, I draw the tip of my tongue along the underside of his length, pulling a sharp exhale from him, before slowly reversing the manoeuvre.

"You're a goddamn tease, girl..." he grits, fisting his hands into the sleeping bag.

"I'm just getting started..."

Another groan escapes him as I wrap my fingers around him while I trace little circles around his glistening tip.

"Harper..." he says through gritted teeth. "You're killin' me here..."

"Oh, I think you'll live," I assure him as I start sliding my hand up and down to the same rhythm as my tongue.

"I'll... remind you... of that," he pants, clenching his eyes shut, "when I return... the favour."

"I'm sure you will..."

A ragged gasp is torn from his throat as I take him into my mouth.

"Christ...!" he exclaims, bucking his hips up.

"Ah!" I admonish, withdrawing from him. "What did we agree on?"

Expletives spew from his mouth as he stills himself with some difficulty.

I slant him a coy look. "I thought your self-control would be better than this, Walker..."

He scoffs breathlessly as I resume sliding my hand up and down. "It's a damn sight better than yours, Gale. You'd be a writhing mess by now..."

"Let's put that to the test, shall we?"

Bending back down, I close my mouth around him again, sucking, licking, and nipping until I feel him start to tremble.

"Sweet fuckin' Jesus, girl..." he grits, fingers tangling into my hair. "You're gonna make me cum so hard..."

Seeing the tight expression on his face, and knowing that he’s close, I swirl my tongue around his throbbing head as I tighten my hold around the base of his shaft, causing him to thrust into my mouth with a strangled moan.

"Hard foul, Walker," I declare, popping my lips off him again. "I told y—”

“Fuck this.”

Before I have a chance to blink, he’s pulled me up onto him, throwing my legs around his waist.

“Dra—”

Yanking the flimsy material of my thong to the side, he shoves me unceremoniously onto his rock-hard dick, drawing low groans from both of us.

"Hold tight, girl," he growls, clamping his hands onto my hips. "You're in for a ride."

“But you—”

My head tips back with a moan as he yanks me forcefully against him. All thoughts and protests evaporate from my mind as I give in to the heart-stopping feeling of us coming together. Tightening my legs around him, I give my body free reign, even though this had not been part of the plan.

"Come for me…" he grits, his movements now erratic, his breath laboured as he tried to hold out, waiting for me.

“You don’t need to—”

“I wasn’t asking.”

He reaches up to thumb my nipple through the gossamer lace, and I feel myself start to tighten in anticipation as I continue to move against him. And when he leans in to run his tongue up my exposed neck, teeth nipping the sensitive skin, I hear myself cry out as the intensity becomes too much and I succumb to ecstasy.

Watching Drake's unguarded reactions to my mercilessly teasing had obviously been more of a turn-on than I realised!

I feel Drake tighten his hold on me as he tenses before his own release shudders through him with a loud groan a heartbeat later. He tugs us together a few more times before we collapse against each other, breathing hard.

“You okay?” I ask softly, trying to catch my breath.

“Never better.”

“Your nose is bleeding again…”

“Don’t care…” he grunts dismissively, wiping the blood away with the back of his hand. “It was 100% worth it.”

“As long as you don’t bleed out on me, Walker.”

He scoffs as he flops back onto the ground, taking me with him. “Don’t worry. I’m planning on sticking around for a while if this is how we’re going to celebrate each year. Just promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“You’ll remind me to lock the cooler in the car next time.”

Permatags (let me know if you want to be added!)

@twinkleallnight @lovingchoices14 @aussiegurl1234 @tessa-liam @alyshak92 @princessleac1 @walkerdrakewalker @choicesficwriterscreations @wackydrabbles @nestledonthaveone @lunaseasblog @kingliam2019 @petiteboheme @angelasscribbles @indiana-jr @drakewalkerisreal @tinkie1973 @fictionloveevie @secretaryunpaid @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @differenttyphoonwerewolf @texaskitten30

#drake walker #harper gale #drake x mc #camping was intense #the royal romance #trr fanfic #wacky drabbles #choices fic writers creations #drake birthday bash

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the-chicken-or-the-banana · 4 years ago

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i had an idea i would love to see from your perspective (you're so good at andreil oh my god) if you wanted to write some stuff about it? i always wondered how andrew reacted when he first found neil missing after the binghampton game (starts pg 235 in the king's men). thoughts? (-- the ttyl blog <3)

omg i literally finished re-reading that scene before seeing your ask skjflsj ~ i hope you like this ! (i'm just realizing that i barely followed ur request and just rambled a lot but that's FINE 😬)

read it on ao3 here :)

«««———»»»

Andrew walked in line to the bus with the rest of the Foxes, mind going a million miles an hour behind his impassive expression.

"Thank you," Neil had said, eyes truer than Andrew had ever seen them. "You were amazing."

Andrew wasn't such a fool for Neil Josten that he couldn't figure out there was something more happening under the surface, something bigger than just an Exy shutout, that he wasn't telling anyone. Something forcing truth out of him.

Neil looked scared.

Apparently, no one else received the memo, because behind him, Matt Boyd kept kicking at Andrew's heels and Andrew could nearly see the nosy smile on Reynold's face. Boyd's voice was drowned out by the cacophony of both jeers and shouts of approval coming from all around them, but he had no doubts that Boyd was fishing for information surrounding his and Neil's "not this" to settle a bet of some sort.

Andrew didn't really care. He was more focused on leaving Binghamton, getting some answers out of Neil, and then kissing him senseless.

Of course, Andrew had no plans to tell Neil of that last item on the list, but he was sure he (and everyone else, apparently) knew anyway.

Maybe not Nicky, though. For all his cousin boasted about having an "incredible gaydar," he tended to be a bit clueless about Andrew.

Andrew's eyes were unfocused, gazing at the bounce of Neil's red curls while his thoughts wandered around nothing at all.

Nothing? his mind mused unhelpfully. Or Neil? Or is that one in the same now?

Shut up, he huffed internally. I hate him.

Lost in his head, it was only until he heard a pained curse from Aaron that he jerked straight and saw the world burning around him.

«««———»»»

Andrew's vision went red.

He nearly would have broken out of line and straight into the tidal wave of rioters had he not noticed the police trying to push back the crowd. He had never trusted the pigs, but Andrew supposed he could let them handle the mess until he'd gotten a chance to check on Aaron at the bus.

He had nearly fooled himself with that thought when an ice cooler sailed through the air and missed Danielle's face by an inch. An enraged shout came from Andrew's right, and he could feel the familiar heat of adrenaline in his stomach that always came when he and Renee sparred.

There was going to be a fight.

No sooner than he had that thought, the crowd around him exploded into madness, nearly running the Foxes over. Andrew may have been ready to throw some punches, but he was not at all prepared for the onslaught of unfamiliar bodies piling on him. Moving around him. Touching him.

Andrew couldn't breathe.

He lost sight of Neil's head in the mess, hoping one of the security guards would bring Neil to safety while Andrew tried to ground himself. What had Bee taught him?

What is your name? Andrew Minyard.

How old are you? 20 years old.

What is upsetting you? Hands. Everywhere.

Can you do something about it? Yes. I can move now.

He felt the glancing blow of someone's elbow on his face, nearly hitting his eye. It was sure to bruise later, but for now, the sharp pain mixed with Bee's words were enough to shake Andrew out of his stupor.

He ducked to the left, neatly missing a thrown shoe and was grateful to his limited stature for once. He kept an eye out for a flash of red, the glint of blue eyes, but seeing that Neil was nearly as short as Andrew himself, the effort was futile.

He'll be fine, Andrew thought. Find Nicky, Aaron, and Kevin, and get to the bus.

To his surprise (or maybe not), Andrew found Reynolds trading fierce blows with someone twice her size, Renee at her back. He caught Renee's glance and she gave him a firm nod of reassurance.

He nodded back, already swiveling to find the rest of his group.

After a few minutes, he spotted Nicky and Kevin huddled together, slowly moving to the edge of the crowd. He caught up and grabbed Nicky's wrist, who jerked away and reared his hand back for a punch before realizing it was Andrew.

Despite it all, Andrew felt a thrum of satisfaction. A few years ago, Nicky had let people beat him down over and over again. At least now he was learning to fight back.

"Oh thank god," Nicky cried, catching Kevin's attention, before his eyes widened. He reached out, remembering himself at the last second. "Andrew... your face, what happened?"

Andrew shrugged. He'd been through worse.

Nicky looked like he wanted to say something, but Kevin cursed loudly and began pushing out of the sea of bodies with renowned vigor.

"It's getting more violent and more people are joining," Kevin said, voice strained. "We need to get out and regroup at the bus."

"Aaron?" Andrew asked. Nicky glanced around a few moments before pointing to his right.

"There!" he exclaimed, and motioned to Kevin to go in that direction. Kevin nodded and they made their way over to Aaron, who was ducking under beer bottles and was nearly smacked in the face by a PSU banner.

"Aaron!" Kevin called, and Aaron's shoulders dropped with relief as he swerved a growing fight and made his way over to them.

Andrew scanned his brother quickly and, after seeing no visible injuries, motioned to start back towards the parking lot. They made their way over to the bus and found Boyd and Danielle standing, the former looking like he'd just lost a fight with a mountain lion.

Danielle was gripping his arm as Abby tended to his wounds, but Andrew heard her say he might need to go to the hospital for the more serious injuries. Boyd looked pained at the thought, but when he glanced up and caught Andrew's eye, he smiled and waved them over.

"Andrew, here," Abby said, noticing his injury. He took an ice pack from her and glanced around.

"Where's Neil?" he asked, choosing to ignore the suggestive look between Boyd and Danielle. Abby shrugged and opened her mouth before her eyes caught on something behind Andrew and she waved.

Andrew turned around to find Renee and Reynolds walking proudly towards them. Reynolds had a mosaic of bruises all over her, and Renee was holding her wrist precariously.

Abby sighed and began treating them as Wymack rounded the front of the bus and finally found his team.

Not the whole team, a ringing voice said in Andrew's head. Neil isn't here yet.

Which was odd, no? He had a security guard in front of him, surely he would have made it here first? Perhaps Wymack had seen him and taken him somewhere. Maybe he was already safe in the bus and Abby hadn’t noticed him.

Andrew pushed past Danielle and boarded the bus, walking the length of it but not finding a loudmouthed striker in its shadows. His stomach became knotted with a curious feeling he slowly identified as dread.

Andrew was at the door of the bus again. He looked at Wymack.

"Where. Is. Neil." he demanded. He saw Wymack's confused expression and before he even said anything, Andrew felt his heart stop.

"I don't know. I thought he was with you."

Reynold's knowing smirk gave way to uncertainty as the rest of the Foxes quieted. There was silence for a moment. Two.

Then Andrew threw his ice pack on the floor and raced back into the heart of the riot.

«««———»»»

He ignored the shouts coming from behind him, his mind an endless loop of Neil, Neil, Neil, is he safe, has he been hurt, he was supposed to be nothing, NEIL

After a few minutes of searching and more than a few near punches, the police finally regained some control over the situation and Andrew was able to scour the grounds for any hint of where Neil might be.

He saw the racquet first. The duffle bag was a few meters away from it.

Numbly, Andrew picked up both items, grabbing Neil's phone as it fell from the netted side pocket.

0, it said.

Andrew felt a piercing emptiness when he saw Neil's things without their rightful owner beside them.

He slowly walked back to the Foxes' bus, head pounding but unable to really register the dwindling fight behind him. And when the Foxes finally came in view, he saw the confusion on their faces when they saw no Neil walking with him.

Andrew mentally ran through everything that he knew. Neil was scared. He was running from someone, someone Kevin knew about? A zero on his phone from an unnamed number — a countdown, perhaps. He would never leave his things unattended, so maybe he wanted to tell Andrew he had been taken unwillingly, knowing that Andrew would never leave without him.

There was something he was missing, some vital piece of information that Neil hadn't told him that was causing this mess.

The guilty look on Kevin's face told Andrew everything he needed to know. He knew something.

He dumped Neil's things on the ground by Wymack's feet, mentally assessing himself. His cheek throbbed, each breath he took was sticky with sweat, his heart was pounding.

Neil was gone.

Andrew felt such a blind hot rage at that, the likes of which he hadn't felt in so long, the type where he felt like laughing at how cruel the world could be.

And before he could tell his body to stop, Andrew's hands were around Kevin's throat.

«««———»»»

"Shit Andrew! You're hurting— " "Andrew, stop— " "Get off of— "

«««———»»»

Andrew couldn't remember what happened after that, not immediately at least. It was a bit disorienting, going from a perfect recollection to being so overrun by anger that his mind went blank. Was this how everyone else felt all the time? He felt like someone just took out a Jenga piece from his mind, like it was close to collapsing.

Distantly, he recalled being yanked off of Kevin as he gasped some explanation about a mob boss, Kengo's right hand man, Nathaniel Wesninski. But none of it mattered. Andrew had broken his promise. He had hurt the person he had vowed to protect, just like so many had done to him.

And he still didn't have Neil.

«««———»»»

Neil used to make the emptiness a bit fuller, a bit easier to manage, Andrew thought. It felt so impossible to navigate himself now without Neil by Andrew's side.

«««———»»»

There was a hospital. A hotel. There were FBI agents. The news turned on. Off. On. There was another hotel. Handcuffs. Taken away.

«««———»»»

There was Nathaniel Neil. Standing in front of him. Blue eyes, wild hair, bandages unable to hide how irresistible he was, unable to stop the jolt in Andrew's heart.

There was Neil. And everything felt right again.

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darkpersonapeace · 3 years ago

Text

So today is one of the best days ever and you guys know why? Yes, I am one of those people that LOVES birthdays and today is mine 💖🎉 so I honor to celebrate my happy day, here’s one of the cutest Edwin scenes I ever wrote:

When she notices, Edward stops in front of a big car. No, not a car. It's almost white, with brown cursive words on the side and a man inside wearing a white apron.

An ice cream truck.

Immediately, she turns her head to him, raising her brows. It's almost midnight, on a wednesday. Why the fuck there's an ice cream truck here?

Edward has a self-satisfied grin on his face, looking all smug and like he was expecting that reaction from her and is pleased because he got it right. He looks at his watch, still smiling – and she can't help but smile too because he looks so beautiful like this, jesus – and talks to the man inside.

"Did you bring it?"

"Of course, Eddie." The man ducks inside, a few noises can be heard and puts a giant cooler on the table, in front of them. "It's all here."

"I want three scoops, please. With no toppings."

Winry watches the whole ordeal in front of her, and when Edward turns to meet her eyes she can only say "Eddie?"

He ducks his head a little and – is he blushing? Oh my god. "Not everyone calls me Major."

"Hm, I certainly never heard it before." She barely contains her smile. Pushing his buttons is by far one of her favorite hobbies. "What are we doing here?"

Edward stretches his arms, picking the small cup from the man's hand. "We are eating ice cream."

He puts the cup in her hand and sticks a spoon on top of the three greenish balls. He looks at her expectantly, clearly wanting her to eat. She retrieves the spoon, placing a generous amount on her mouth. When the flavor finally hits, Winry's eyes are big in surprise.

"It's pistachio."

"Hm." His eyes are shining as he hums in agreement.

"It's my favorite."

"Is it."

"Yes."

His eyes are not looking at her anymore. "Mmm."

"Did you know?" She says after the third spoon.

A small smile, Winry thinks. She can't really see in the dim light, there's only one light pole working in the parking lot, and Edward decides that the inside of the truck is extremely interesting so he turns his head away from her. Edward is like this, more often than not. Closed, a little weird, with abrupt changes in his behaviour. As if he almost deems he's not worthy of happy moments.

"I want a scoop of vanilla." He says with his hands in his pockets.

"Oh my god." Winry looks at him, suddenly amused.

He eyes her, startled. "What?'

"Are you really having ice cream?" His whole face changes from worried to grumpy. He knows exactly what she's doing, he's familiar. "Because, weren't you the one who says ice cream is only a product of hydrogenated fat and how that destroys people's health and their ability to taste homemade ice cream and it's all a conspiracy from the government to make people– wait, Ed where are you going? I was just kidding!" Her laugh echoes through the night as Edward turns around the truck. He doesn't answer her, already walking, blending into the night with his black suit, and Winry has no idea where he's going.

Maybe he's mad at her for making fun of him, thought that would be a little out of character by now since he's got really good at putting up with Winry's teasing. She's considering going after him, maybe mollify him with a kiss, when he surfaces behind her, his expression something between sheepish and annoyed.

Adorable, this man.

Cute.

God, what is she doing?

He turns his head to the sides, making sure no one is watching them, not even the man inside the truck, and steps closer to her, so close that Winry needs only to lean forward to meet his lips. He looks at his watch again, and she's so disappointed he didn't kiss her that she looks at his wrist, noticing the clock hands.

"Five minutes past midnight. Do you know what that means?" His voice is full of– something Winry can't quite understand. She can hear the excitement, at the same time the eagerness.

Winry shakes her head.

"It means it's June 9th." She had been so caught up by his proximity it took five seconds for her brain to process his words.

She gaps softly and Edward slowly brushes his lips against hers when he says "Happy Birthday, Win."

Yaaaaay 💛

#will this ever see the ao3 light?#who knows #I have 15k written down #but no idea if I’ll ever finish #forbidden love au #the rewards of being loved #fanfic #edwin #fma #edward elric #winry rockbell #ao3 #birthdays!!#yeeeay

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wh6res · 4 years ago

Note

hey love! im so happy requests are finally opened! i really love your writing and when i saw requests were opened, my heart jumped hehe, but may I please request aggressive 11, and 14 with xiaojun? thank you so much!!🥺❤️❤️

frat boys | xiaojun

synopsis. you never should've came to yangyang's party.

warnings. dubcon, betrayal

note. thank you my dear for loving my writing uwu

you’ve never been to a frat party. it was never your thing and no matter how tempting your bestfriend makes it sound, you swore to yourself to never indulge in such matters. but for someone so smart, it was rather stupid of you to think you’ll never attend a frat party when, first and foremost, your own bestfriend’s a member of a frat.

and unfortunately for you, he just had to celebrate his 22nd in his fraternity’s house. you felt annoyed that yangyang forego the usual arrangements where it’ll just be him, you, cupcakes, and beer when the clock strikes 12 o’clock. but it all changed this year when he said—”you don’t even need to give me a gift, sunshine! just… please attend the party? think of it as your gift to me? don’t worry i’ll be looking out for you and you can leave as soon as you feel uncomfy!”

you don’t expect him to stand by his word because this is yangyang we’re talking about. he’s a lightweight and you know he’d be shitfaced drunk halfway through the party because that’s just how he is. yangyang is the star of the night, the birthday boy, of course he’ll drink whatever alcohol his friends offer him.

it’s been hours already since you’d last seen the boy, right after he put a show of chugging down one whole bottle of gin on top of a table and lucas having to catch yangyang’s swaying body toppling over the surface so he won’t wake up with a fractured arm the next day.

2am. you’ll go home at 2am.

so you simply wait another hour by the kitchen (its more quiet there) playing mario kart on your phone while chugging down some orange juice you found in the fridge. hopefully the host doesn’t mind, after all, you highly doubt they’d care for a bottle of orange juice when they have a plethora of alcoholic drinks sitting in ice coolers.

“really? you’re drinking that in a frat party?”

the voice makes you look up just as you threw your head back to finish the remaining of the juice inside the plastic bottle. you raise an eyebrow when you see one of yangyang’s… frat mate? bestfriend? peer? you don’t know. but one thing’s for sure, he’s definitely a part of the friend group your bestfriend’s in—meaning, he’s a frat boy.

and there’s only one frat boy you don’t hate and that’s yangyang—then again, it can be debatable sometimes.

“so?” you reply sharply, not bothering to hide your annoyance of your peace being interrupted. you hear him stalking closer to you before placing something on the counter, next to your thighs. in the corner of your eyes, you see it's a drink—beer, most probably.

you sneer, not bothering to look at him. “ah, no thank you. i don’t drink alcohol, especially not from strangers.”

“xiaojun, third year, majoring in film making, and thinks you’re kinda cute. there, i don’t think i’m a stranger anymore?”

you can practically hear the grin in his voice, as if his quirky little antics is going to take its effect on you like all the other girls he probably had tried it with. unfortunately for him, you’re far from easy and it’s 2am already. wordlessly, without another glance towards his direction, you tried walking out of the kitchen, wanting to see yangyang one last time before bolting out the door.

keyword: tried.

“so, where are you going?” xiaojun pesters. shadowing your footsteps as you aimlessly walk around the house, looking for the birthday boy. for such an ungodly hour, the party seems to be going on full swing and it probably won’t simmer down until after a couple more hours.

perfect. you arrived unnoticed, and you will leave unnoticed.

“oh!” you forget xiaojun is still towing behind you. “are you looking for yangyang? i know where he is!”

you force out a laugh, spinning around to face him. “i know what you’re doing. you’re trying to get me alone, aren’t you? do i fucking look easy to you?”

he seems genuinely surprised of your outburst. “woah, chill. he’s upstairs, babe. last door on the left side. we all know that boy’s a lightweight, so xuxi and the rest of the guys have dropped him there to sober him up.”

“i’m not buying it.”

“fine!” he throws his arm up in mock surrender. “i won’t follow you upstairs if that calms your nerves. your welcome, see you around—or whatever…”

you can’t help but scoff at his attitude. you never asked him to follow you around nor did you even ask for his help in finding liu yangyang but before you can say anything else, xiaojun has already stormed away, disappearing into the throng of people in the living room turned dance floor. you huffed, hiking your bag strap higher up your shoulders before marching up the stairs.

it’s a lot quieter here compared to the party going on downstairs. the music significantly gets muted the further down you walk in the hallway, towards yangyang’s room. keeping in mind what xiaojun said about how they like throwing their friend in here to sober him up, you decided to skip knocking, barging into the room with a grin on your face.

“hey, lightweight! i’m going… home?”

the room’s empty.

“i can’t believe you actually fell for it.”

you hardly had any time to turn around when you felt his hands pushing you further into the room, a resounding click of the lock can be heard as you try to pick yourself up from the cold tiled floor but it was no use when you felt a heel of a boot against your lower back, forcing you back to the ground. tears starts pricking your eyes but you try everything in your power to not let them fall. no. he can’t have that satisfaction.

“it was really stupid of you, not gonna lie. but who cares, i get the girl i’ve been eyeing!”

you grunt aloud in frustration as you try squirming out of from under him but the pain of his boot’s heel digging into your flesh made you unconsciously cry out. why is this happening? why did it even have to happen to you?

in a span of seconds he had lifted you off the floor and has unceremoniously tossed you on the mattress, the blankets ruffling underneath your body. you tried crawling off but he was quick, wrapping a firm hand around your ankle before pulling you back to where he wanted you to be.

“please!” you can’t believe you had resulted to begging but everything is bound to get blurry when the reality of the situation starts setting in and the fear overrules any type of dignity. “if you—if you let me go now, i won’t tell anybody not even yangyang, i swear! just—please—”

“oh, didn’t you know?” xiaojun just finds this way too fun. “yangyang made you come tonight, didn’t he? practically forced you to even when he knew you didn’t like parties?”

as he spoke, you tried sneakily wriggling out from under him until you stop dead in your tracks when his hands dart forward to wrap around your neck. xiaojun sighs as if he’s bored. but when you dare look straight at him, the excited glint in his eyes are unmistakable.

when he leans down to whisper in your ear…

“i was the one who told yangyang to invite you.”

and then you screamed, trying to push him away with vigor because no your best friend would never sell you out like that. “you’re lying!” you sob. “yangyang would… he’d never do that to me! you’re lying!”

xiaojun rolls his eyes as he ducks down to attack your neck. the first you feel are his soft lips against the skin of your neck, then his hot tongue licking a stripe from your collarbone to the back of your ear before digging his teeth into your skin. you grunt aloud in pain.

he clicks his tongue, glaring down at your messed up state. “if you’d stop making so much noise, i might not have to be so rough.”

you don’t know why, but his words make you cry harder, it’s as if he’s implying that all this shit you’re going through because of him is your own fault. and by the time he’s done marking your neck, you realize in horror—when xiaojun said ‘rough’ he had truly meant rough.

a lone tear escapes your eye as you pull your shirt up higher to cover your neck, ignoring the feeling of his ministrations and feather-like touches against the insides of your thigh. but when he sees what you’re doing, xiaojun starts digging his nails into your flesh as a warning.

“don’t cover my bite marks. if you do, i might have to add something more obvious.”

#yandere xiaojun #yandere nct #yandere wayv #yandere kpop

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sola-whumping · 4 years ago

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Umbran: The New Master

CW: pet whump, dehumanization, treating a whumpee as a nonperson, nonhuman whumpee, fae whump, heavily conditioned whumpee, nonsexual nudity (taking care of wounds)

Word count: 3,306

Nox woke slowly, his senses returning one by one. The first thing he was aware of was the soft surrounding him and the gentle hand running through his hair. The second thing he was aware of was the soft feminine humming, it was gentle and soothing like a summer breeze. He listened to the melody for a while, getting lost in the sound. He didn’t want to wake quite yet and fought the awareness that threatened to come for him. There would be pain waiting for him when he woke, he was sure of it. The last thing he was aware of was the tightness of the bandages around his chest and throat and the pain they caused him. He gave a small whine of discomfort. His bandages were not so tight that he couldn’t breathe, but not so loose that they were useless. Eventually, he was dragged to consciousness.

“Good morning, Umbran, are you awake?” The humming had stopped in favor of speaking. Nox opened his eyes, remembering what had happened the day before. He had been sold again.

“’M ‘wake.” He felt heavy, as if he’d been drugged. He vaguely remembered being bitten and recalled that this was the vampire, Evangeline. Gabrial had warned him about her. He tried to sit up, only to be eased back onto the bed.

“You are hurt. You will answer my questions and rest. Once I am satisfied, you may have a bath and a meal.” The way she said it sounded a lot like mercy, though he knew there would be a catch. For the bath he expected ice water and to be held under. That’s what a bath had meant to Gabrial. The meal would surely be laced, if not outright poisoned. He was never fed that easily. Immediately suspicious but unable to do anything about it, he agreed.

“What are your name and pronouns? I want to make sure I received the right creature.” Nox figured it was likely that she knew umbrans didn’t have any gender binary. Instead, they were physically non-binary, and while some leaned towards male or female (he leaned male), it was much more common that they were androgynous or didn’t fit the human stereotype at all. It was generally polite to ask an Umbrans pronouns or call them ‘they’ or ‘it’ instead of guessing. He also figured that Gabrial had promised her something better than him.

“N-ox,” he croaked. His throat was dry and burned when he spoke. As soon as he made noise, the vampire lifted him and placed him in a sitting-up position. She put a cup of sweetened water to his lips, gently urging him to drink.

He was grateful for the water. He hadn’t had any since before he was shipped. She turned cruel as soon as he tried to drink, only giving him a small bit of water at a time and then keeping the rest out of reach. Eventually, slowly, he drank the whole cup. He wanted more water. He was so dehydrated that he felt like he couldn’t get enough. He tried to ask for more, to plead if he had to, but his throat felt like fire, and when he made noise, he coughed weakly.

His struggles were soon rewarded with another cup, filled with the same sugar water as the last. The only difference was that this one was a bit cooler and he was a bit less desperate. He still swallowed it down as quickly as he was allowed.

The vampire gently reminded him of the question after the glass was stolen away once more. “Nox, m-ale pronouns,” he rasped. His throat felt a little better. He felt a little better.

“Are you hungry, Nox?” He faintly realized he was desperate enough to not care if any food given to him was laced. Gabrial, his seller, had only ever fed him after he passed out and woke up again or in the days before shipping. He was more than hungry: he was starved. He gave a weak whine. He knew if she was asking that then she either intended to taunt and starve him or feed him, and he preferred the latter.

She seemed to take the whine as his response, and in the next moment, there was a spoonful of something that smelled heavenly in his face. It was potato soup. He used to love potato soup. He was grateful to be allowed to eat something warm when he hadn’t done anything to earn it yet.. Something that wasn’t moldy bread was a treat in itself.

He tried to rush and comply before she had a chance to change her mind about feeding him, trying to make it easier and maybe even feed himself. He failed. He was still heavy and weak and exhausted. All he managed to do was lean forward and open his mouth. His attempt was pathetic.

“Good boy, that’s it. Easy, darling.” She praised and cooed at him while he struggled for each bite. When the bowl was almost empty, she helped him drink bit more water before letting him finish the bowl. “Very good!” She ran her fingers through his hair and scratched his scalp. He was too weak to lean into the touch, but he felt a happy warmth in his chest.

He hadn’t been called “good” or praised often, if at all, with Gabrial. It was no secret that the umbran hated him. He was often used as a plaything to beat around and hurt, rather than treated like the pets that were trained and sold. They got to find a forever home while he was rented for a party or a beating for a night or to someone who wasn’t sure if they wanted a Pet or not. He shivered at the memories and tried to focus on what was happening in the present.

“Alright, sweetheart, it’s bath time. We need to clean those wounds and get you washed up.” Evangeline spoke to him as if he was a child. “Liam, darling, if you could.”

Suddenly, someone big and tall left the wall where they had been leaning and approached the bed Nox had been laying on. He hadn’t noticed them until they had moved and that worried him, he must be more out of it than he thought. He panicked slightly and keened in distress when he felt an arm slip under his knees and another tighten across his shoulders. He was lifted effortlessly- like he was weightless. Once he was picked up and stabilized, he could identify the figure as a tall human male- at least... he thought it was a male. Humans were supposed to have physical features that showed their preferred gender, but he could never tell. Gender was a human construct anyway. It was much better to learn the person rather than assuming.

They spoke softly to him and he could feel their deep voice rumbling in their chest. “Hello, little birdy. My name is Liam.” Their arms felt strong around him and Nox almost felt… safe, being carried like this.

Nox gave a shy “Hello.” He liked Liam’s voice. They sounded calming and friendly even though their strength scared him.

Nox was carried to another room. This one was painted a light blue. There was a big bathtub and shower. It was large enough that his wings wouldn’t be squished- if he still had them. He didn’t get to see the other half of the room until he was undressed and lowered into the already filled tub. There was a white foam on the top of the water that he considered beautiful. The water felt lovely. It was so warm that the heat immediately seeped into his bones.

When he glanced up, something squeaked in his face, startling him badly and making him chirp in surprise. “Awww, Noxie, it’s just a rubber duck,” his master cooed at him, handing him a bright yellow toy. It was plastic and didn’t look at all like a duck. He squeezed it and startled himself again when it made a squeak sound.. He looked up to see her amused.

He noticed some of the bubbles had clung to his arm when he moved. Curious, he licked it. It did not taste good at all despite how appealing it looked. His tongue stayed poked out as he recoiled. He heard his master laugh, and suddenly there was a dry towel wiping away the bubbles.

“There, there, little darling, nothing to be distressed over.” She soothed. “Now we know that we can’t eat bubbles.” She sounded amused so Nox chirped at her, happy to have attention.

He surveyed the water. If he was held under and waterboarded, it would be better than the cold water, right? Or would the bubbles compensate and make it worse. He couldn’t decide, so he figured he would have to wait and see.

His master must have seen his expression because she spoke in a calm, soothing voice. “That’s Birdy bubble bath, made specifically not to hurt your feathers.” That hadn’t been what he had been worrying over- in fact, he hadn’t considered that the soap could hurt him at all-- but it was good to know. In response, he carefully lowered himself into the warm water, assuming that’s what she wanted him to do.

Evangeline shielded his eyes and filled a cup with water before pouring it over him carefully to wet his hair. Then he felt something cold in the center of his hair. When he chirped a question, his master was kind enough to answer.

“Just some shampoo, darling. I know I’m not supposed to use things like this on your hair, but I have to get the blood out somehow.” Her hands were gentle, not pulling or yanking even a little. He was fully expecting to be forced under, but- it hadn’t happened yet. The anticipation of waiting was almost as bad as the drowning itself.

“Yes, ma’am.” He stayed still and quiet as the thing in his hair turned into more bubbles. They started white like the ones around him but soon turned a light pink. He was ordered to tip his head back, and upon complying, another cup of water was poured in his hair.

This is it, this is where I get pushed under. He was in the perfect position; she could hold him under almost effortlessly like this. Not that he would fight at all. He was a good pet, and if she wanted to drown him, he’d stay under just like she wanted.

“Sit up for me, treasure. I have to use conditioner, and then we will use the scrub brush and dry you up.” She led him up as he followed her guidance. As she had said, she put conditioner in his hair, carding her fingers through it as she went.

Nox had to fight to stay still and not lean into the slight scratch of his scalp. He did adore being pet- not that he got the chance often. After she carded through his hair a bit, it became silky and smooth, though he knew it would be soft and fluffy once dried.

She had him lean back again, shushing his little whimper as water got in his ears. He didn’t want to be drowned and this would be her best chance to do it. After this, she wouldn’t have to convince him back down into the water. He held his breath, but she only washed the conditioner gently from his hair.

When he was let up again, he almost gasped out of shock. “Good job, little Birdy, you did very well for me. Now, I need you to stay still so I can clean your wounds. We don’t want them getting infected, now do we?” She hummed.

Nox flinched. Cleaning wounds usually meant alcohol and painful healing and bandages wrapped so tight he couldn’t breathe. Getting an infection was usually kinder than the prevention methods.

He flinched again when something gentle touched his back. His master placed a hand on his chest to stop him from moving away as she gently washed away the blood, cooing and soothing his whimpers when he started to get nervous.

He was waiting for it to hurt, waiting for the salt and vinegar and alcohol to be poured. He wasn’t used to the gentle cloth wiping away his blood- not when he was still scared that the gentle touch would turn rough and rub his back raw.

Nox took a breath to steady himself. Fear wouldn’t change the outcome. Whatever his master wanted to happen would happen and nothing he can do would change that. He took comfort in the helplessness. Nothing he could do would change anything, He repeated the words to himself, taking another deep breath and letting himself relax. Whatever will happen will happen. He focused on the hand on his chest and the cloth on his back, slowly cleaning the blood away. He took comfort in the helplessness.

The water was a light pink now and some of his wounds had started bleeding again. His master pressed a cloth against the freshly reopened wounds to stem the bleeding and held it there until it had mostly stopped.

When all the blood was gone, he was washed with something that smelled sweet and then taken out of the tub, only to be swiftly wrapped up in a warm towel. It was a dark color so the blood didn’t stain and could be washed out later. The towel was also strangely warm. His master had placed it on an odd sideways stand that radiated heat while he had been in the bath, presumably for that purpose. Regardless, he was grateful..

Nox was dried up and his hair was brushed before he even knew what was happening. He was a bit shocked going from the warm water to the cold air so quickly. He started to tremble from the cold. “Shh, we’ll get you warmed up, just hold on,” his master cooed, connecting an odd-looking piece of plastic to the wall.

She turned it on, causing warm air to blow from it as if it was magic, creating wind effortlessly. He flinched when the warm air was suddenly on his face, then in his hair, then on the feathers trailing down the back of his neck. The magic wind felt lovely. It was nice and warm, chasing away the cold. After a few minutes he stopped trembling, his hair no longer wet.

His master brushed it out and ran a hand through the now fluffy black mixed with brown. Now that he was clean, they could see the colors in his hair blended and mixed, like a molted feather pattern rather than anything human. His master hummed at him, thinking he looked adorable with his head tilted curiously at the blow dryer.

“Can you walk, or should Liam carry you again?” She asked as she gently coaxed him into putting on a fluffy hoodie and some sweatpants. She would worry about decorum later, right now, her pet was in need of comfort. She had some rather strong words for his seller. She had ordered a pet, not a slave, and had expected him to have been treated with kindness rather than shoved in a box and strangled. She shook her head. It was practically animal cruelty, and the creature was so sweet that she didn’t think he could have done anything to deserve it.

Nox had gone from gazing at the magic wind creator to backing in the warm blanket and the feeling of being clean, only to be snapped out of it with the question. “I-I can try, master.” He sounded terrified, but he did his best to suppress it. He hadn’t been hurt yet, and he didn’t think he’d be cleaned and dressed only to get all bloody again. Surely they wanted him for something else first- at least, he hoped. He tried not to be scared; vampires could smell fear, and being scared always made hurt time worse. They liked when he was afraid. Sometimes Gabrial said that the only good things about him were his pretty tears and his pleading.

She almost cooed at him, the poor dear was so skittish. He sounded terrified of picking wrong. “That’s alright, darling, you just focus on resting. I’ll give you your rules tomorrow and I’ll write an email to that trainer of yours. They’ve been far too cruel to you.”

Nox immediately tensed up when he heard email. That meant he was getting sent back. He didn’t even hear the rest of the sentence, too caught up in what he did wrong to warrant being sent back. Why would they clean him if they didn’t want him? Unless- unless he had answered wrong. Maybe they wanted him to be cute and helpless and need help with walking. Surely he was hurt before arriving for a reason. “I- I meant only if I was allowed, master- I didn’t want to assume- I’ve been so arrogant-“ he kept cutting himself off, too anxious to finish his sentence. “I’m s-sorry, plea-please don’t send me back” he pleaded. If nothing else, he begged well and cried beautifully for his masters. He hoped desperately that somehow he would be allowed to stay. He felt hot tears slip down his cheeks, sparkling with pastel colors. He truly was a pretty crier.

The shine of light caught Evangeline’s eye. “Oh, sweetheart, what happened? What’s wrong, darling?” She tipped his head up by his chin and wiped away his tears, hushing the distressed umbran. “What’s got you so upset?”

“You- you’re going to send me back,” he cried, distressed. He had been told if he was sent back before the first week, he’d be whipped again- it hadn’t even been a day. He couldn’t take it again so soon. He wouldn’t be able to stand it and the pain was unbearable. He was terrified of what would happen, less scared of Gabrial but rather the consequences that came with it.

Evangeline was startled by his terror. “Oh darling, sweet treasure, you’re not being sent back, love.” She took his face in her hands and wiped away his tears. “Now that you’re mine, I wouldn’t let you go so easily.” It sounded like a comfort, but it wasn’t worded like one. Nox didn’t know how to feel until he felt a hand making its way through his soft hair. Slowly, he let himself calm down.

“Maybe a choice this soon is too much for you. Would you like me to pick for you?” She sounded like she was talking to an upset three year old- and Nox responded like one, nodding slightly and giving a small “mhm” as he was pet.

“That’s alright, darling.” She cooed, turning to Liam. “Could you carry him? The poor thing is distressed.” Liam obeyed, moving to pick Nox up effortlessly.

He carried Nox to his room. Liam set Nox down on his side in a little nest made of blankets rather than on his back. Then he stepped back so Evangeline could see Nox. she sat in a chair by his bed and spoke softly to calm him.

“It’s alright, sweetheart, you’re safe. No one will hurt you here. I’m sure you’re very tired, so I’ll make this quick, alright, darling?” She grabbed a great big blanket and draped it over him.

Nox had started to relax with the soft voice. He felt safer under the blanket. It was cozy and warm and made him feel secure. When he looked up at his new master, he was greeted with a kind smile and a kiss on the forehead. She trailed a hand gently down his face so he would close his eyes.

“Night night, Noxie.” And just like that, he was out.

✨Masterlist✨

Taglist: @haro-whumps @poisoned-by-royalty @sunset-avenuer @wide-awake-but-comatose @whumpsy-daisies @misspelledwitch @string-of-broken-hearts @captainseconds @lave-whump @whumping-out-of-time

#nonhuman whumpee #dehumanization #pet whump #vampire caretaker #fae whumpee #pet whumpee #whump #umbran #whumpee #caretaking #kind whumper #Evangeline the vampire #nox has done nothing wrong #poor noxie #nox gets good things

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phantom-curve · 4 years ago

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Happy second birthday❤️❤️❤️ 35 juke please

Thank you! I know I did this prompt for Willex already, but since you specified Juke I wanted to give that dynamic a shot as well, so here is some very angsty Luke and comforting Julie set in the did I shatter you? AU, from before that fic takes place!

#35: kissing their scars and bruises (Trigger Warning: brief mention of violence in the form of punching a wall and the resulting injuries from doing so. Rated T for language)

Luke didn’t often talk about Bobby anymore. Julie knew the basics, knew how deeply his betrayal had cut into Luke, knew that the wound still festered on some level, but it wasn’t something that they actually talked about. Bobby was in the Before Time: the time when Julie didn’t know the boys, the time when she was still lost in the ocean of grief that had drowned her when her mom died, the time when they were Julie Molina and Sunset Curve, two separate entities that hadn’t yet had the chance to change each other’s lives. Luke didn’t like the Before Time. He didn’t like that Julie had been silent and alone in her suffering for so long, he didn’t like that he had given so much of himself to a band that had been shattered as easily as glass against hardwood floor. He liked to focus on the here and the now. But the Before Time was there, and Julie knew that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t always outrun it.

Like now, when they were on their first tour out of high school, opening for Fitz and The Tantrums (which was the biggest thing they had done as a band so far and holy shit was it incredible), but of course there had to be some way that Bobby ruined it.

Julie hadn’t really noticed it at first, when they entered the second to last venue on their tour. She was a bit too awed by the fact that they were finally doing what they had always wanted to and gaining even more recognition along the way. They actually had some fans that had gone to more than one tour stop, specifically to see them, and at last night’s show there had been a girl that had approached the merch booth after their set and said the only reason she got tickets to the show in the first place was to see them play. It felt big and huge and like they were finally taking steps to enter the real professional musician leagues, and Julie had been basking in it.

So, she missed the way Luke was off in the green room. Didn’t pay a lot of attention to the posters on the walls from previous tours that had come through. Not until they were on stage and Luke’s energy felt weird and the entire performance left her with the sour taste of dissatisfaction as they made their way back to the green room to clean up and get ready to head out to their merch table. Alex and Reggie were quieter than normal, and Luke was clearly pissed. At first, she thought it was because they hadn’t played their best, but then Luke’s fist was flying into the concrete wall next to a bright blue poster, and when she screamed and rushed over to check on him, she saw the words printed on the page.

Trevor Wilson: Get Lost Tour!

The dates listed below were from almost a year prior. Once again, Bobby had beaten Luke at something without putting in even half the effort. Not that Julie saw it that way, but she knew Luke did. She caught the sound of the door to the green room closing, noticed that Alex and Reggie were gone, probably for the best considering Reg still jumped when someone so much as raised their voice around him, but most of her focus was on Luke. The tears in his eyes and the blood streaming down his fingers from where the skin had split on his knuckles. The wall hadn’t sustained any damage, but Luke’s hand was a different matter completely. The anger seemed to drain out of him all at once when he met Julie’s steady gaze.

“I’m sorry.”

His voice was broken, his body slumping forward as she caught him in a hug. She didn’t speak, let him cry himself out against the cradle of her neck until the collar of her shirt was wet with his tears. After a long moment he shuddered, pulling out of her grasp and plopping down on the ratty couch, his injured hand tucked against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, although this time Julie could tell it wasn’t just an apology for his outburst, but an apology for everything else about that night.

“I know.”

She didn’t need to make him feel worse. It was punishment enough that he had injured his playing hand. Their last show was in two days and Julie was sure he wouldn’t be playing it. But that conversation could be saved for a later time. Right now, he needed comfort. She moved to sit next to him, tucking her legs underneath herself, reaching out for his hand. He passed it over without comment.

Slowly, Julie flexed and moved each one of his fingers, noticing when he winced but thankful that each one seemed to move okay. He hadn’t broken anything which seemed to be a miracle in itself, but it was clear he had done some minor damage, bruises already blossoming along his knuckles. She left the couch to move to the cooler along the wall, scooping a handful of ice into a paper towel and swiping some bandages and wet wipes from the ancient First Aid kid in the back corner. When she sat down again, Luke placed his hand in hers without question, meeting her gaze as she held the makeshift ice pack against it.

“You know his success doesn’t detract from yours, right? You’re still a better musician in every way and you’ve actually earned your spot instead of buying your way in.”

She kept her voice gentle and steady, no judgement, just the affection that always simmered under the surface. They both knew they weren’t exactly ‘just friends’ though neither one had made any moves towards something more than that yet.

“He’s still using my words to get there though. My heart and soul getting twisted into whatever he wants to make them.”

Luke couldn’t keep the disgust out of his words, his lip curling into a sneer. Julie sighed and tried again.

“I know. But you have new words, our words.”

Our hearts and souls combined, she wanted to say. But she held back. They weren’t ready for that yet. Luke’s face softened slightly before he sighed.

“You’re right, I know you’re right. It just still fucking hurts, Jules.”

“I get that. But does it hurt any less because you punched a wall about it?”

A rueful grin stretched his lips and then he sucked in a breath as Julie lifted the ice and began dabbing at the scrapes on his hand with the wipes. He was silent for a while, watching her intently as she bandaged his wounds.

“You’re too good to me.”

There was a deeper emotion lurking behind his eyes, something less friendly and more loving. Julie ducked her head shyly, lifting his hand so she could be sure it was properly fixed up for the time being. In a moment of pure adrenaline and bravery, she lowered her lips and kissed her way across the bruises marring his skin, turning his hand over to place one final kiss in the center of it before she slowly curled his fingers around it. Her kiss, enclosed in his palm, like a tattoo on his skin. She blushed when she finally looked up to meet his gaze, the endless ocean in his eyes nearly drowning her with affection and awe. His uninjured hand reached up to graze her jaw lightly. The sound of the door opening broke through their moment, Luke’s hand falling and Julie pushing herself off of the couch as Alex cautiously stuck his head into the room.

“You all good in here? We still have merch to sell and there’s some fans asking where you guys are.”

Julie forced a grin, meeting Luke’s gaze for one quick moment. He nodded softly and she turned back to Alex.

“All good.”

“Sorry, bro. Tell Reggie I’ll buy him a snow cone to make up for it. That wasn’t cool.”

Alex nodded, his jaw softening slightly as he took in Luke’s hand and red rimmed eyes.

“Tell him yourself. At the merch table. Where your fans are asking for you.”

Julie laughed lightly.

“Okay, okay we get the hint.” She turned to Luke and offered a hand for him to hold. He stood, lacing his fingers through hers. “C’mon, Rockstar. Let’s give the people what they came here for.”

Luke smiled, a real smile, and Julie knew things would be okay. The Bobby hurt lived on, but they were pushing their way through it one day at a time. Their songs, their band, was stronger than one jackass with a handful of stolen songs. They were stronger; together they would survive this.

#mads writes #did I shatter you?#juke #jatp #send me prompts for my birthday!#julie and the phantoms #juke ficlet #jatp ficlet

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pucksnsticksnhockeyboys · 4 years ago

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summertime mindset - epilogue

date night & declarations

masterlist for summertime mindset

Timing is hard to get right and summer doesn’t last forever. You and Tyson learn the hard way.

word count: 2.2k

note from the writer: it’s finally over. also Come On Eileen just came on while im writing this rn which was mentioned no less than twice in this series is this a sign. anyways, hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!

SUMMERTIME

“Close your eyes.”

“Tyson, if you let me trip.” You warned, a slightly nervous chuckle falling past your lips. Tyson laughed loudly, and you smiled at the sound. It was date night, apparently, and he had something set up somewhere. You assumed your aunt’s backyard, because Michael had been tasked with keeping you out of the house. As much as you loved your cousin’s boyfriend, he was not subtle at all, and about fifteen minutes into grabbing ice cream with him, you realized something was up.

So when Michael went to drop you off at your aunt’s house and you found Tyson standing in the driveway, you weren’t totally shocked. He was dressed nice, a pair of jeans and a sweater you had never seen him in before. Even his hair was styled. When you pulled into the driveway, he opened your door, gave you a kiss, handed you the bouquet of flowers, and told you to close your eyes.

“C’mon, just do it.” He grinned, holding your free hand. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Rachel and Kacey looking out the window of your aunt’s living room, both giving you a thumbs up. Michael had already slipped inside, so with one last teasing glare at Tyson, you complied. “We’re going out back.” He explained, though you could tell that from the direction he was leading you.

“What do you have planned, Jost?” You teased, trying to focus on your footsteps and not tripping on anything, but it was a little difficult when your head felt as light as it did when Tyson squeezed your hand and laughed as melodic as he did.

“No peeking!” He told you instead of answering your question, and you held your tongue, knowing that you were not going to win this battle. You let him lead you further into your aunt’s backyard, and you realized he was taking you to the gazebo at the end of the yard. Tyson finally stopped walking you, and moved to stand beside you, his hand held tightly in yours still. “Okay, open your eyes.”

You did as you were told, and your eyes immediately widened in shock. The gazebo had been decorated with fairy lights and candles, and in the center there was a table completely set with what looked to be a homemade meal. It took you a moment to take in everything, how good it looked and how moved you were that he had put so much effort into it.

“Tyson…” You trailed off, at a loss for words. Instead of saying anything, you turned to face him, wrapping him in a tight hug that he readily returned. You pressed a kiss to his cheek as you pulled back, eager to investigate the set up closer.

“Kacey helped me cook, and Rachel helped with the decorations. It was my idea, though.” Tyson said, a little nervously, as he watched your reaction. He hoped that you wouldn’t think it was too much, but he had wanted to do something special for you, and his sister had suggested the dinner idea.

“If Kacey helped cook, then it’s probably edible.” You teased, throwing him a mischievous grin that had his heart stopping in his chest with how much he adored you. On the table, there was an empty glass vase, with some water in the bottom, so you placed the bouquet Tyson had gotten you there.

“I’ve been told I’m a great cook.” Tyson defended playfully, easily falling into your typical light banter despite his nerves. Despite the teasing, he pulled out your chair for you like the gentleman his mom had raised him to be.

“It doesn’t count if your mom told you that.” You rolled your eyes with a grin, watching as Tyson settled into his own chair across from you. He didn’t respond with anything other than a chuckle, and you watched as he nervously studied your face. “Tyson?”

“Do you like it?” He blurted out, one hand gesturing to the table and decorations. You creased your brow together in confusion, but seconds later you realized why he was so nervous. He was afraid that he’d done too much and would scare you off.

“I love it, Tys.” You reached across the short table to set your hand on top of his. He relaxed at this, and lifted your hand up so he could kiss the back of it with an easy grin. Your simple words were enough to calm him down, and you briefly reveled in the fact that you were able to have such an effect on him. “But what’s the occasion?”

“Just ‘cause I really like you.” He assured you, his broad grin on full display. Your heart stuttered in your chest, despite the fact that it was far from the first time he had told you that. You had a feeling that it was far from the last time he’d tell you that, too, and thought made you smile wider. You chuckled breathily at him, eyes dancing across the lights that were around the gazebo before finally settling on Tyson. He was smiling fondly at you, and you knew that you would be perfectly content to sit there for the rest of life, as long as he looked at you like he was.

“Didn’t realize you were such a romantic, Jost.” You chirped, but his response was quick and easy, as if he had spent a lifetime in preparation for this moment.

“Only for you.”

PRESENT

“We’re engaged!”

“Congratulations!”

You beamed at Rachel, standing up from the lawn chair you had been perched in while watching Tyson play a game of modified spike ball with your younger cousins. You had been waiting for Rachel and Michael to return from their drive, knowing he had been planning to propose. He had, after all, asked you for Rachel’s ring size and help with planning everything.

“It’s gorgeous, Rach.” You cooed, stepping back to let your various extended family members that had come to your aunt’s for a family barbecue to crowd around Rachel. She shot you a grateful smile before turning to entertain your Great Aunt Ida’s various questions. Tyson approached, then, clapping a hand on Michael’s shoulder and his other arm winding around your waist.

“Congrats, Mikey.” Tyson grinned. You smiled at your boyfriend and soon to be cousin, glad they were able to easily rekindle their friendship after you got back with Tyson.

“You two are next!” Your aunt shouted in glee, pointing to you and Tyson. You flushed, chuckling out of nerves. Rachel elbowed her mother for her comment, but you felt Tyson’s arm tighten around you. Luckily, your grandma asked Rachel a question about her future wedding that had everyone in a tizzy, so you were out of the hot seat.

“Beer?” Tyson asked quietly, and you nodded, ducking away from your crowd of family members and towards the coolers. Your mind was elsewhere as you went through the motions of taking a sip of your fresh drink. Specifically, your mind was wandering years into the future, to your relationship with Tyson, and how maybe then you’d be in the same position as Rachel and Michael.

Tyson sat in the Adirondack chair you had previously occupied, and gently tugged you down so you were seated comfortingly on his lap. You leaned back into his chest, distantly paying attention to one of your younger cousins explaining the rules for whatever game he was making up. You turned to face your boyfriend when he squeezed the arm that had been wrapped comfortingly around you, finding him already watching you with a soft and caring look in his eyes.

“Hm?” You hummed, searching his face for whatever he would’ve wanted to tell you, only coming up short in the few moments he said nothing. A grin broke out across his face, one less mischievous than you were used to seeing.

Your fingers subconsciously started toying with the braided friendship bracelet on Tyson’s wrist. It was a new one, since the first one was years old and the string had snapped during one practice. He had gotten upset, genuinely distraught that one of the first gifts you had gotten him had broken. You assured him it was okay, and made him a new one with the colors of the Colorado Avalanche.

“That’s gonna be us someday.” He said, wordlessly gesturing to Rachel and Michael who were still being questioned by your family. Your heart stopped beating in your chest all together, a wide smile on your face at the sureness he spoke with. “Maybe not next, ‘cause,” He paused, nodding his head in the direction of your thirteen year old cousin who had invited the girl he liked from school to the barbeque. “little man’s got game.” You laughed at this, feeling Tyson’s eyes heavy on you the whole time. Calming down, you returned Tyson’s soft smile.

“Someday, then.” You told him quietly. He nodded brightly, before leaning forward to press a quick kiss to your cheek, before kissing the other, and then finally landing one on your lips. He didn’t move back far, choosing to mumble his next words against your lips.

“Someday it is.”

As if you were always meant to, you spent the rest of the warm summer evening in Tyson’s arms. He joked with your family and you chirped him alongside his sister, and all the while your mind didn’t stray far from Tyson’s comment about your future together. Kacey had asked you what made you so smiley, and you just shrugged, but the grin you sent her brother’s way told her all she needed to know.

“I swear, you two were meant for eachother.” She sighed dramatically, her own teasing grin so familiar to the one you loved. A family trait, you assumed.

“I hope so.” You told her, a little breathless at just how happy you were in the moment. A giddy smile broke out across your face as Tyson appeared, his arm snaking around your waist to tug you into his side gently.

“Are you coming with me tonight?” Tyson hummed tiredly. The night was coming to an end, with most of your family gone already. There was only a small group of twenty-somethings left: you, Tyson, Kacey, Rachel, Michael, and Dan. The latter of which had previously been engaged in conversation with your boyfriend, and had kept him occupied for the last half hour. It was late, you were tired, and Tyson noticed.

He always noticed you.

“Yeah, if you’re on your best behavior.” You grinned playfully, and Kacey jokingly gagged. Some things never changed, and you were incredibly grateful for it.

“Always am.” Tyson replied, his hand slipping in yours and tugging you in the direction of his house next door before you had the chance to reply. You bid everyone a goodnight over your shoulder, shouting one more congratulations to Rachel and Michael before you were inside the Jost family home.

Fifteen minutes later, you were clothed in one of Tyson’s oversized athletic shirts and wrapped in his arms. You were chatting mindlessly, your thoughts on the verge of incomprehensible as a result of your exhaustion. Tyson was laying on his back with his head against the pillows, and you were curled into his side with your head tucked into the crook of his neck.

He listened to every word that fell past your lips, hanging onto each sound you created with a broad smile and beating heart. He had known before that moment that you were it for him—he had decided he was done for the moment you walked into his life—but he wanted you to know. Sure, you probably had a pretty good idea about what you meant to him, but it couldn’t hurt to say it.

“I meant what I said earlier, you know.” He found himself accidentally interrupting a story about something one of your aunt’s had said. He could tell you didn’t mind, because you didn’t even try to continue.

“About?” You hummed, confusion lacing your tone. You could feel his heart hammering in his chest, and in a bid to try and calm him down, you began brushing the tips of your fingers up and down his arm.

“About marrying you someday. I’m going to do it.” He sounded so serious, that you couldn’t help but prop yourself up on your elbow, slightly hovering over him in order to get a better look at him. He was smiling softly the way one does when they’re in love, and you felt your heart stutter in your chest at the way he was looking at you.

“Not right now, I hope.” You teased, a little breathless under his stare. You were grinning at him, an easy smile that was mirrored on his face.

“No, not now. But I can’t imagine not having you in my life again.” He told you, and you wasted no time in leaning down to connect your lips to his. You smiled into the kiss, still feeling the same electricity from the first time you had done so all those years ago run through you. You’d never tire of Tyson, you were sure of it.

“Didn’t realize you were such a romantic, Jost.” You mumbled against his lips before pulling back to admire him. He chuckled quietly, one of his hands rising up to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing across your cheek. The sensation had you leaning into his touch, and you grabbed his hand to give each of his fingers a quick kiss.

“Only for you.”

#tyson jost #Tyson Jost x reader #Tyson Jost imagines #Tyson Jost series #Tyson Jost imagine #Tyson Jost fic #Colorado Avalanche #Colorado Avalanche imagine #Colorado Avalanche x reader #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #NHL x reader

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samwrights · 4 years ago

Text

When The Birds Came

I got Persona 5 Royal as a Christmas gift from my husband and you can bet your ass I fell head-over-heels for Iwai Munehisa and Sakamoto Ryuji. In general, I love loud blonde’s and dads. This is also the first time I haven’t made the reader a smoker (yay, good job Sam) when I very well could have.

Anyway, this is my “yay I’m back from a massive hiatus” piece in which you could tell my main focus was being more descriptive with the NSFW portion as well as continuity. I also am now trying to make lengthy playlists on Spotify to encourage myself and my readers. You can find me on Spotify under the name overxhaul.

Title taken from the song “Prey” by The Neighborhood.

And yes, I am very aware I love writing ridiculously stupid long oneshots. Sue me.

➳ Pairing: Reader x Iwai Munehisa

➳ Word count: 16,076

➳ Warnings: language, vague child neglect, daddy issues, mommy issues lack of contraceptives, slight breeding kink, slight daddy kink, slight cum play, overstimulatioin, squirting, obviously nsfw

“Come again soon!” You gave a wave to the young man you’d just handed his boba to. Presumably, he was still in middle school, as made noticeable by the school uniform, but he had been coming every day later in the evening before skulking off to the alley around the corner from your little boba shop in Shibuya. Maybe one day you would remember to ask his name, you muse silently. It was even more amusing to note that he always grabbed two drinks when he did come—maybe his sweetheart was too shy to order their own drink, so this little gentleman always handles it for the both of them?

You were merely speculating the minor details of this boy’s life; a telltale sign that you have entirely too much time on your hands. Flicking your wrist upward, you check your watch and assume it’s alright to close up now. It was nearing nine and while Shibuya was relatively peaceful, there has been whispers of shady business deals passing through and you would rather not get caught up in the mess. After packing up all the toppings and washing all the dishes, you locked up your little shop, waving goodbye to nearby vendors as you shut the door.

The tinkling bells over the door drown out as you take a step back, the familiar noise muting as your focus shifts to the abrupt feeling of your back colliding against a squishy but firm wall. Following it was the sound of an abrupt grunt. Immediately, you whip your head around ready to apologize profusely only to be met with a chest. Cautiously, you tilted your head back to look the man in the face—whether merely to apologize or to subconsciously register his face in your memory system in the event he came back to kill you, you weren’t sure—only to be met with steely grey eyes. “S-sorry,” you manage to stutter out, just to receive a bored grunt in reply. His lackluster response prompts you to take a step back away from the man that towered over you, allowing him to move past you with little to no acknowledgement of your remorse.

Silently, the man stuffs his hands into his coat pockets while the crunching of what sounds like glass shatters between his teeth. Unbeknownst to you, you let out an audible gasp—as if trying to remind yourself to breathe—at the noise before you shut your gaping mouth and clench your jaw. The thirty second exchange had left the impression on you that he was dangerous—the hunter versus the hunted. Predator versus prey.

Him versus you.

Had your mind not been too preoccupied with his broad form skulking away from you, you might have noticed the half-drunken plastic cup in his hand with little black boba pearls settled at the bottom. Instead, you had only thought you had felt those vicious eyes boring into the back of your skull as you walked home to your little apartment in the outskirts of town. As if he were standing in every alleyway waiting for the opportunity to pounce—to the point where you were keeping your head down while peeking out the corner of your eyes to see if anyone else was around.

You figured you were being silly and paranoid—even more so when you had entered your apartment and cautiously flicked on the lights before even removing your shoes. You knew you were being paranoid when you ripped back the curtains to your shower as if some serial killer were going to be behind it. And you knew you were going absolutely overboard when you triple checked all the locks on your front door and made sure to close and lock your bedroom door as if that were going to enough to deter a predator.

It was ridiculous to even think you, a mere insignificant fly, was capable of leaving a lasting impression on the man as he did on you. It wasn’t like you were bound to cross paths with him again, you argued with yourself.

He had no reason to notice you—this dread you felt was ridiculously unfounded. But no matter how much you tried to reason with yourself as you laid down for bed that evening, the racing of your heart did little to slow until the man was nothing but a dull hum at the back of your mind.

By the morning, the previous day’s events were nearly forgotten. Perhaps that had something to do with you being late to class this morning and the way you rushed out of your little Shibuya apartment before dashing off to the train station. Not that sprinting would make you not late for class—the train itself only went a certain speed. But the chances of you missing the next soonest train would mean you wouldn’t be that late for class and at least you can still bear witness to part of the lecture—

If only you had made the train.

A defeated sigh leaves your lips; there was no way you’d make it in time. Even attempting to go to your only class now would be a pointless trip to campus. There was still plenty of time until you were supposed to arrive at your boba shop. Seize the day, you figure, as you pay the fee to hop on the train to Inokashira Park. It was a beautiful morning, may as well enjoy the sunshine and attempt to capture the beauty of the landscape through digital painting.

With headphones in, you let the gentle hum of hip hop beats fade into the background while your hand laid out a gestural drawing of the land. A tree here, shoreline there—there was no reason the grumpy man, long forgotten from yesterday, should have been anywhere outside of the depths of your subconscious. But as the saying goes, the more you think of something—or in this case someone—the more likely you’ll notice it more in the world around you. Like how the trees in the distance stood tall as he did and proud of how the natural striations in far off rock formations reminded you of the strange man’s salt and pepper locks peeking from under his hat.

Speak it into existence, or something like that.

Maybe that was the reason the unnamed man was sitting at the park bench directly across from you on a sunny Tuesday afternoon.

Part of you wanted to get up and leave due to the overwhelming sense of dread that crept up your spine. But, considering he was in the midst of what seemed to be a teeming argument under the guise of a normal day to day conversation, you figured he’d yet to acknowledge your existence. That was what you were hoping for anyway. After having the general layout of your landscape laid out on the drawing application on your tablet, you held up your cellphone to take a reference photo to finish the painting later. Genuinely, you thought nothing of it until you heard a gritty, “hey!” Before your brain could process what was happening, the same man you had bumped into the previous evening was holding your wrist in one hand, the other holding onto your phone. “What do you think you’re doing?” He snarls.

“L-let go of me!” You squeak out, causing his grip to tighten further in reciprocation.

“I’m not gonna ask you again, kid,” sandpaper. His voice reminded you of sandpaper.

“I was just taking a reference photo of my painting so I could work on it at home...” considering there was no canvas or paint, it was no wonder he didn’t believe you. Still, he let go of your wrist but held onto your phone well above your head like a bully holding a child’s toy out of reach. With trembling fingers, you reached into your bag and held open your now unlocked tablet to him, hoping your trepidation didn’t blur the photo. As he studied the drawing, he lowered his hand until it was at his side. Even if it were far from finished, he could see the ripples in the water coming from the love boats on the river and a little family of ducks near the rock formation. He could see the luxurious foliage that seemed to frame him and his not-so-friendly acquaintance.

“Take me out of it,” he grumbles, handing your phone back to you and turning away. If embarrassment was an emotion he was familiar with, then that would have been the best way to describe the awkward feeling bubbling in his chest. Maybe if he had undergone different circumstances, he wouldn’t feel the need to interrogate some poor kid in a park in broad daylight.

There’s no point in regretting the past, he decided this long ago. Nobody can change the actions they had once taken—only live with the consequences of their choices and try to learn to move on.

Iwai Munehisa knew that all too well.

And if you hadn’t yet, you were going to learn real quick.

Your shift at the shop had gone by as usual. The school rush wasn’t particularly bad today despite the sunny weather and cooler temperatures. Yet, without fail, the same mousy boy that had come every day at a quarter to five in his middle school uniform showed up. Before he’s even made it to the counter, you begin prepping everything for his routine beverages: small taro iced milk tea with a little bit of extra boba and a regular sized thai iced coffee with an additional espresso shot poured after the remaining components had been shaken together.

“O-oh,” the boy says, a foreign forlorn look on his face, “I-I’m so sorry. I only needed the taro today—my dad said I needed to stop bringing him all this extra sugar every day,” despite only needing the one, he takes out the usual amount of money that he always does for the two drinks. You purse your lips in a tight line, mentally berating yourself for being so presumptuous.

“It’s on me today, kid,” you push the two cups towards him and hand him the thick plastic straws—a blue one for him and green for the coffee. His eyes always seemed to light up just a bit more when he saw the two colors slide across the counter. “I shouldn’t have assumed, I’m sorry. Tell your dad he can blame me for today’s sugar overdose, okay?” The boy’s face lit up, albeit only for a brief second, before taking the drinks and his hand and thanking you profusely.

The rest of the evening resumed normalcy, crawling along the clock. At one point, you’d sent the rest of your employees home because keeping them at the shop was cruel and unusual punishment.

Even after cleaning all the dirty store equipment and preparing mixes and ingredients for tomorrow, you still had an hour left before you were due to close up shop. The irony of Billie Eilish’s ‘Bored’ playing on the store stereo was not lost you.

As the owner, you decided to remain open for another twenty minutes out of courtesy. But, considering not a soul had come by (you swear you saw a tumbleweed blow across your cafe floor), you had decided to flick the neon light off and lock the door, standing in the doorway and fumbling with the key. At least there was a chance of you getting home and getting to bed early, so as to avoid your train-missing debacle from this morning. Maybe even get a chance to sneak some pampering in with a salt soak in the tub and a face mask or even meal prep a few things so that you wouldn’t have run to Big Bang Burger for the umpteenth time this week because you didn’t have time—

“You again?”

You weren’t even thinking about him, you swear. How the hell did the same grumpy man from the park this morning manifest before you?! “Hehehe,” you chuckle in clear discomfort, “w-we gotta stop meeting like this?”

“Actually, I just came by to say thanks for the drink,” the grey-haired man looks down to the half drunken beverage in his left hand for clarity, “but don’t let Kaoru bring stuff for me anymore.” That answered another question that you’d had for a while—you finally knew the boy’s name. But knowing that this man was his father opened a different can of worms entirely.

“Right, gotta watch your figure?” You joked. The man before you looked entirely unamused, only letting out a simple grunt as a form of acknowledgement of your silly question. “Not that there’s anything wrong with your figure—“

“I run Untouchable,” he interrupts, not caring much for your ramble, “sometimes I have questionable patrons that I don’t need ‘im seeing,” your face drops momentarily as you’re met in a deadlock with the man. Being the daughter of a shop owner at one point led you to empathize with the child. And regardless of his reasoning, that didn’t mean that his son didn’t miss him from time to time. From what you knew about this Kaoru boy, he probably used the boba as an excuse to see his dad, even if just for five minutes.

“You know,” you started off slowly, “Kaoru prolly just misses you. And you not allowing him to even bring you a coffee while you’re working denies him the opportunity of seeing his dad on his own terms.” A scowl replaces his blasé features. Wrong move, [name]. Wrong move.

“And what do you know about parenting, kid?” He spits out.

“My names not ‘kid’, asshole,” you bite back, “and we were all kids once. Some of us just choose to live with consequences of our parents actions a lot longer than others.” With that, you storm away.

Well, you try to.

But the grip this man has on your wrist is dangerous, as if trying to let you know you were meeting the end of your life by his hand. “Be careful who you mouth off to, kid—“

“It’s [surname],” you snip once again as you puff out your chest. It was clear to the both of you that you were not backing down. While this surly man was somewhat taken aback, impressed even, by your tenacity, you had figured there was no point backing down now. Even with your posture standing just a bit taller, the man gripping your wrist held it above his own head, pressing both of your chests together.

“A pleasure to meet you, [surname],” he drawls sarcastically, “I’m Iwai. Now stay out of my fucking business,” letting you go, Iwai grumbles to himself before walking away from you with an audible crunch of the sucker between his teeth. When he was no longer in eyesight and ear shot, you let out an audible gasp to replenish the breath you’d been holding. Maybe he was right—there was no reason for you to meddle or to say the things that you had. But at the same time, you knew those morose looks on Kaoru’s face all too well—being an only child with absent parents is a language that only those who suffer can speak.

So maybe you wouldn’t encourage Kaoru to bring nice treats for Iwai, but you made it your mission to make sure Kaoru didn’t go home every night wishing he could see his dad for more than ten minutes.

One of the downsides to being an owner of a shop, or a good one anyway, was dedicating seven days a week to running your business. Sure, you had a few part timers here and there that could easily handle the shop, but they were students who needed to keep up with their studies and wanted to have social lives. Rather than dealing with the hassle of finding someone reliable enough, you made it a point to shoulder the burden on your own. Being slow enough most nights did allow you to work on your own coursework in between—the perks of being in college merely for the sake of learning rather than emphasizing the importance of securing a degree. It also allowed you to tackle administrative work while engaging with your customers.

Including a young boy who still looked so downtrodden as he ordered his small taro boba tea on ice. “It’s Kaoru, right?” You ask him casually as you hand him his drink. The boy offers you a look of surprise.

“Y-yeah?”

“It’s nice to officially meet you, I’m [surname].” He smiles bashfully to replace his stupefied look. Handing off his tea, you notice the way he lingers, as if contemplating whether or not he wants to stay or flit off elsewhere. “You’re more than welcome to hang around here and do homework or something, Kaoru-kun,” you add, noticing the way his eyes flicker back and forth between the alley where you now know his father is.

“O-Okay,” the boy responds meekly before taking a two-top table by the window. It gave him the best view of said alley, and part of you wonders if he did that intentionally. Deciding to leave it be for now, you occasionally peek out the corners of your eye to see Kaoru flipping through what you assumed to be pages of homework. Every few minutes, he was looking up out the window before mindlessly fingering the pages again.

When your line had died down and all customers had been serviced, you walked out from behind the counter with a towel in hand. Using the guise of sanitizing the tables, you approached the boy, clearing your throat so as to pardon your presence. “Looks like entrance exams, am I right?” Kaoru looks up at you again, boyish eyes gleaming as if he had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar before dinner. “How are your studies going?”

“Uh...not very good,” he admits sheepishly. “Sometimes my dad helps me study, but he hasn’t been home lately before I go to bed.”

Ah.

Why did it feel like you were looking in a mirror every time you talked to this boy?

“Well, I’m sure your dad has his reasons. If you don’t mind, I could always help you study?” Perhaps it was spite that drove your actions. After all, Iwai had told you to stay out of his business, yet here you were, offering to tutor his son just because he refused to be present. Maybe it was remorse because you had meant what you said—Iwai had his reasons. Just like your father did back when you were Kaoru’s age.

That didn’t mean that your father’s absence didn’t hurt you or manifest itself as the young boy sitting at one of your tables.

“R-really?!” The boy’s excited voice pulled you from your inner monologue. You offer a soft smile instead, reaching over to turn his notebook towards you.

Comprehension comes easy enough for you to show him, as well as the various portions of Japanese and English grammar and vocabulary. Math was only slightly more difficult, but not by much considering it was still relatively basic formulas that had just been reworked for the current generation’s curriculum.

Science at this age was something you hadn’t even faced until your second or third year of high school.

“Why the heck,” you emphasize your censorship, despite strongly wishing to drop an f-bomb, “are they teaching you physics in middle school?!”

“They aren’t,” Kaoru all but cries. It’s apparent that this subject has been frustrating him immensely—perhaps that was why he was also desperate for his father’s attention? “I haven’t learned any of this yet, but I really want to make it into this academy but it’s one of the top schools in the prefecture and I’m worried I’m too dumb to get in.” The boy had split every last ounce of anxiety, his words coming a garbled mess as he refused to take a breath as he spoke while teems of hot tears threatened to spill past his eyes.

“Hey, Kaoru-chan?” You say gently as you close his notebook. “You are not dumb,” you murmur firmly while looking him in his wet eyes, “you haven’t learned this stuff yet so of course it’s going to be difficult. That doesn’t mean you can’t learn it.” Kaoru is quiet for a moment, slight sniffles sounding from his face.

“But if we aren’t learning this in school, how am I supposed to learn how to do any of this?” Pausing, you check your watch for the time as you realize how late it must’ve gotten. It was already closing time, and the streets of Shibuya were starting to run thin.

“Tell you what, Kaoru-chan. Give me two days. Two days, I’ll come up with a study guide for you with formulas and units you’ll need to know to learn just basic physics. Does that sound good?” As you shut off the neon ‘Open’ sign, the boy takes this as a signal to begin packing his belongings into his knapsack.

“O-okay,” he hesitates, “but I-I don’t wanna be a bother, [surname]-san. I can always ask my dad, though he’s not much of a help usually,” the last part is mumbled almost unintelligibly.

Almost.

Your chest constricts again because you swear this child, however short of a time you’ve known him, is too much like you to be a mere coincidence. It was more like whatever omniscient being up above sent you this child to help.

“You’re no bother, Kaoru-chan. I’ll see you tomorrow, and I will let you know right away when I have your study guide ready, but you should probably head on home before your dad starts worrying about you.” The boy agrees, the slick appearance of tears dissipating until they were replaced with some semblance of hope. Maybe he could get into the academy—maybe he’s not dumb and his dad doesn’t want to be around him, he thinks.

“Thanks again, [surname]-san!”

“Kaoru, why are you still out right now?” The boy in question whips his head around, meeting the steely grey eyes of his father. “And you, I thought I told you stay out of my business? That includes my son!” Iwai was angry. The lower lid of his left eye shook, and the corners of his mouth trembled as if ready to snarl. He wasn’t just angry.

Iwai Munehisa was livid.

“D-dad, I’m sorry. We lost track of time a-and [surname]-san was helping me—“

“Go home and go to bed, Kaoru. I’ll meet you there shortly.”

“O-okay...” despite not wanting to, Kaoru takes his leave down the streets of Shibuya. Occasionally his gaze would flicker back to the sight of you staring at his father with your arms crossed over his chest and him returning the look with venom.

“What do you want, [surname]? Is it money? Who sent you?” The way your family name leaves his lip is entirely satirical. There’s malice painting his tone, as if trying to submerge his very obvious threatening posture with extra ammunition. “I meant it when I said stay out of my business.”

“I have no problem with that, but your kid might.”

“And what do you know about him? Besides the fact that he keeps bringing you business?” Between the both of you, the volume of your voices is beginning to transcend the quiet streets of Shibuya. And considering the privacy that Iwai clearly strived for, you let out a sigh before turning around to unlock the door to your shop. The disgruntled man raises a brow, teeth clicking against the sucker between his lips as he grunts in confusion. “What, you runnin’ away now, kid?”

“I just don’t think you or your son would appreciate this conversation taking place in such a public space.” You huff with a roll of your eyes before holding the door open for him. Weary, Iwai scuffles in, his clunky boots thumping along the linoleum of your storefront. His caution made you roll your eyes before you locked the door once again behind him. “I offered to tutor Kaoru because he’s having anxiety about his entrance exams.” You bite out. Iwai, now pausing his gawking at your frilly, all white and gold boba shop, snaps his neck towards you. It seems you had his attention now.

“I already told him I would get him a tutor, so leave him alone.”

“Dude,” you huff once again, dropping all formalities along with your patience, “he almost started crying in front of me. He thinks he’s dumb and you’ve apparently put off finding a tutor for long enough that he is freaking out and nearly having public meltdowns.”

For a moment, Iwai is silent. There’s no noise in the shop, save for the incessant clacking of that damned lollipop.

“He’s not dumb,” is all his father grits out, the hardened sugar finally cracking underneath his molars.

“No, he’s not. He actually kept up with my little impromptu lessons. He can pass those exams; he just needs a little help.” With a newfound resolve, Iwai turns around to stand at his full figure, eyes narrowing down towards you.

“Let’s meet somewhere and talk this over. Not tonight obviously, I gotta fix a couple o’ things at home,” he grumbles, much like his son had earlier that evening.

“What, like an interview?” You balk incredulously. What, did he think you were trying to kidnap his kid or something?! Kaoru was nearly your height and you ran a little freakin’ boba shop—what the hell could you possibly do that would be even remotely threatening?!

“Yeah, like an interview. I’ll reach out to ya in a couple days. Later,” with finality, Iwai brushes past your smaller frame, unlocks the door and exits the shop, leaving you to your confused, dumbfounded solitude.

Rest did not find you easy that night.

No matter what tactics you had resorted to in an attempt to find sleep, nothing seemed to work. Guided relaxation and meditation, one of your typical go-to methods, had only left you with even more tense muscles. You tried turning on quiet, gentle music while continuing the digital painting you had started a couple weeks ago. The whole hour you had tried, your eyes had subconsciously flitted back and forth between the area you were painting and the two men conversing on the bench in your reference photo.

Just take me out of it, his voice had gnawed at the back of your mind.

And slowly, the two conversing men had been exchanged with silhouettes of the aforementioned man and a much shorter figure sitting shoulder to shoulder by his side. While it made for decent artwork, the thought of having to paint such a tender moment, as opposed to witnessing it firsthand, had left you full with guilt. The poor boy you were so determined to help—the boy so desperate for his father’s attention. Where was his mother? Couldn’t she help him out?

Then again, it wasn’t like your own mom did much for you either. If anything, she merely stood idly by while your father barked instructions on how to live your life.

Go to college for business.

Earn nothing less than perfection.

Open your own shop.

Be successful.

But also, friendships are unnecessary, and you should sever ties should you make them.

Get a job without help, but also pay for your own transportation said job.

Live independently—do everything on your own so that your success is yours.

These were your guiding principles of life. The only reason you turned out the way you did was out of sheer rebellion, doing everything your parents asked and more in your own way. And when you finally did achieve your rendition of success, you cut all ties with them.

You didn’t want Kaoru to turn into the bitter human you had by following some unwritten code like you had, especially if he didn’t have to.

But thinking of the boy leads you back to his irritated father and the initial reason you couldn’t sleep. The immediate flip in personality of Iwai had left you all sorts of jumbled. At first, he was so adamant and insistent that you stay far away from the Iwai family—to stay out of his business. Was he merely humoring you? Something in those grey eyes told you no. Rather, it told you of a more insidious reason that, even if he wasn’t physically standing before you, made your spine run cold. The type of chill that travelled from the base of your neck down your core.

The more you dwelled on the thought, the more you wondered about how he would get in contact with you. Would he call you? He didn’t have your number, but some inkling in the back of your head told you that wasn’t going to stop him. Would he just come by after work again? Maybe you should make sure your security cameras were working so that he didn’t kill you inside your own shop. The idea didn’t seem farfetched, you attempted to rationalize. Considering the death grip he had on your wrist twice now, he could have easily broken a bone or two. Iwai could easily slam his big hands on your throat and break your hyoid bone, crushing your windpipe. He could bind and gag you—

Okay, [name], time for bed.

Despite all the tossing and turning from the previous night, you had managed to make it to your digital design class early enough to grab a coffee on the way. Lord knows you needed it.

Much like the night before, the hour-long course had dragged on with every second stretching the minutes. Since your mind and presence were practically nonexistent, you had opted to head to a cafe nearby in Kichijoji. It was a short, half-hour walk that seemed to tick by much faster than your morning had. Sitting outside, enjoying a beautifully crafted latte and a light lunch while working on your digital painting had been the reset you’d needed. It seemed to ebb away the sleepless night. Maybe work wouldn’t be so daunting later.

But that feeling of dread is pokes its head once again upon receiving a text message from an unknown number.

Where are you.

Part of you becomes weary of your surroundings, scoping out for any suspicious characters that might be looking your way. Another part of you scoffs at the message—why on earth would you reveal your location to an unknown number? However, ignoring the text as you thought you should, proved to be ineffective as the unfamiliar number flashes again in the form of a call not once, but twice. When you refused to pick up the second time, another message is sent.

What, you scared of a job interview, kid?

Before colorful words can be muttered under your breath, you answer the phone as it rings for a third time. “How the fuck did you get my number?” You bite out between ground teeth. On the other end of the line, Iwai Munehisa lets out a chuckle before merely stating that he has his connections.

“Seriously though, where are you? I got time before the shop opens.” For a moment, you’re quiet, contemplating on whether or not you should tell him. On the plus side, you were in a public space at the moment. He couldn’t kill you behind closed doors like he was so clearly capable of. Though maybe a small part of you wouldn’t mind feeling that delicious grip on your throat, even if for a second—“Earth to [surname],” the voice chimes on the line. Pulling you from your boundless thoughts, you absently spew off your location as if you were talking with an old friend as opposed to the man you’d been continuously butting heads with. “Kichijoji? It’ll take me a few, but I’ll be there within the hour. Later.”

With that, Iwai hangs up, leaving you to your train wreck of thoughts.

Shit.

He was coming to interview you to be a tutor—which, that part was the least of your worries—but you hadn’t prepared a damn thing for Kaoru yet. Considering how yesterday’s events played out, you figured you had a bit more time. Not that you didn’t perform well under pressure, no. It was more of the fact that the Untouchable owner made your skin crawl and your blood boil and triggered your fight-or-flight response with a single look.

Exiting out of the digital painting program, you pull up a blank note page in your tablet before creating a rough draft of Kaoru’s lesson plans. While you were initially just helping him with science, you figured it would be helpful to refine other subjects of the entrance exams just for Kaoru’s peace of mind.

Still awaiting his father, you begin writing out a formula sheet to be used with his study guides for both the math section and the science section. Even only glancing at the boy’s workbook briefly, you had a rough idea of the material content—acceleration due to gravity, formulas for mass, Planck’s constant, conversions between Fahrenheit to Celsius to Kelvin—

“Huh. I didn’t expect you to take this so seriously.” Iwai has a hand on the back of your chair, leaning his weight on the furniture as he looks over what you have written so far. Much of the letters and symbols looked like a whole lot of mumbo jumbo to him—a foreign language that he didn’t expect a girl like you to be so well-versed in.

“Oh!” You squeak out, startled by his sudden presence. “Jesus, give a girl a warning next time, would ya?” Iwai gives a roll of his grey eyes before taking the seat across the table from him. The waitress swings by upon seeing a new guest, grabbing his order for a basic drip coffee with cream and sugar on the side.

“It looks like you know what you’re doing. You just pull these outta your ass?” His roundabout phrasing isn’t as effective as he thinks, you muse. Not that you blame him for his suspicions—you ran a little boba shop that probably didn’t net much profit or had relatively simple supply systems with no need for knowledge of these types of formulas.

“No,” you huff out a small tuft of air in a scoff, “I graduated with a degree in astrophysics.” Iwai quirks a brow, clearly not hiding the confusion at the drastic dichotomy of your current occupation and your area of specialization. Even more than the confusion, he was clearly skeptical of this being true.

“Is that so? Say I believe you,” this man was very good at pushing your buttons, you note, “why waste your degree tutoring my boy?” The question grit against your thin nerves.

“Well, considering I’m running a tea shop instead of finding more habitable planets on the International Space Station right now, I would say that at least tutoring offers me a small, singular use of my degree.” You balk, simultaneously propping your elbow on the table and cradling your head to further emphasize your irritation. Beneath his breath, you swear you hear the man mutter, ‘brat’.

“Fine, next question.” Iwai pauses momentarily, sipping his coffee and setting down the mug a little less than gracefully before slumping back into his chair. His arms and knees are crossed, the telltale signs of one keeping their cards close to their chest. “Who are you?”

Huh?

Iwai repeats his questioning, adding pressure to the first word as if he were indirectly prying for a specific answer.

“Uh, I’m [surname] [name]. I’m 29, Toho graduate in astrophysics, as I mentioned, as well as a double major in business, while currently taking a digital design course for shits and giggles?”

“And?” You narrow your eyes at him, blood constricting and your pupils turning to pinpricks out of sheer annoyance.

“And what?”

“That’s all there is to ya? No tricks, no hidden agendas; It’s that simple?” The question coming from his lips seems to be more to himself rather than directed at you. His body is no longer scrunched—however difficult that may be for someone of his hulking stature—with his legs spread out a bit more comfortably and his arms relaxed in a looser cross. With him stretching out, his feet just barely brush yours, but neither of you make the motion to recede them.

“Simple? You sure know how to make a girl feel special.” Feeling the slightly laxer attitude, you mirror his posture. Despite leaving your hand on the table and cradling your chin, the action is more fueled by intrigue rather than annoyance as it had earlier.

“What can I say? I like ‘em simple. Better than dealing with dramatics and feeling like a babysitter.” You aren’t totally sure if he was aiming for a joke—from the blasé look on his face, you would say no—but you can’t help but laugh. Despite his scary appearance that had rattled every vertebrae in your spine from a single look, Iwai was no better than a grumpy old man yelling at the neighborhood kids for playing too loud in the middle of the day. Or at least, from that tiny interaction he did. The bubble of laughter, however, grates at his nerves. “Alright, last question. You get oddly protective when it comes to my son. Why?”

Protective.

Huh?

Is that how he viewed it? Your initial reaction was to offer a rebuttal—to outright deny his claim. “I-I’m not—“

“[name],” the vowels and consonants strung together like honey straight from the dripper when he spoke your name, rather than the malice that his tone held. “Just spit it out.”

“I’m not protective, I’m preventative.” Well, he did tell you to spit it out. So your words come out unrefined like a rough draft to a thesis while the two of you stare at each other. Grey on [eyecolor]. “My parents used to run a little shop in Sendai—spent all their time there and left me to just do whatever. I always lived by their rule, always tried to be perfect so maybe they would come celebrate my achievements with me.”

But they never did. Student council president? Big whoop.

Valedictorian? You’re only in high school.

Got a perfect in your entrance exams to Toho? So what.

Graduated summa cum laude with a double major? They didn’t even come to your graduation.

“It hurts a kid. A lot. I saw all the same signs in Kaoru, I just don’t want another kid to grow up like me.” For a moment, Iwai is quiet. He’s contemplating his words, careful and cautious of what to say. On the one hand, he understands what you’re saying. Truly, he does. He understands it isn’t fair to his son—it’s not fair to constantly leave him alone and in the dark and all to hide his past. Kaoru never asked for that.

Hell, Kaoru never asked to be born, let alone sold and left on Iwai’s front porch.

At the same time, Iwai Munehisa takes a long look at you. While he acknowledges the tired, nearly empty gaze in your eyes and your gaunt, frail body that clearly lacks some form of nourishment, he also sees the raw intelligence. He sees drive and passion and guts and part of him thinks if his kid turned out half the person you did, maybe that wouldn’t be a bad thing.

However, he also realizes that he’s wrong for thinking that. You are a product of poor upbringing, and you were trying to break the cycle.

“Personally,” the grey-haired man starts off slowly, “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you. You’re a gutsy woman that’s standing up for what she believes in.” Iwai can tell you’re ready to fire a rebuttal immediately, to which he holds his hand up. “But I get what you’re saying. Kaoru shouldn’t have to take the same journey just to achieve the same results—so you have my permission.”

You close your lips back together as you clench your jaw. This should have felt like a victory for you—you get to help this poor boy feel validated in his efforts. But you know it doesn’t come solely from you, a stranger that just happened to hear his pleas.

“I need more than that, Iwai. You need to start being there for him too, otherwise this is all moot.”

The man in question licks the dry plains of his lips before pursing them together. How was he going to justify leaving the shop? That would mean his part-timer would have to close up shop for him. What if Tsuda or Masa end up at the shop—

It doesn’t matter, Iwai realizes. This is for his son, his literal fucking world. He would be no better than Kaoru’s birth mom if he couldn’t even be there for his boy.

“Okay,” the weapons dealer agrees after a minute, “whatever he needs. But the tutoring sessions happen in my home and nowhere else. Understood?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, you hold your hand out to shake on the deal, not even registering the fact that you were going to be inside the Iwai home or picking up on how adamant he was with this request.

While Iwai Munehisa was a relatively strict man, you were grateful that he showed some flexibility to your own personal schedule. Sure, it was something that any normal, decent human would do, but for some reason you just hadn’t expected that courtesy from him.

Your tutoring sessions started at six in the evening which gave everyone ample time to take care of their own needs. You had time to complete your own coursework and manage your shop, Iwai was able to teach his part-timer how to close up shop for the evening, and Kaoru would be able to take care of assignments due the following day or attend cram school. Each day that you had tutoring sessions, Munehisa would pick you up from your own store, walking with you side by side back to his shared apartment. Some days, he would be silent. Others, he would indulge you with mundane conversations.

“Wait so you’re back in school, just for the hell of it?” The gun shop owner had asked when you presented him with the painting. The one of him and Masa in Inokashira Park, though the latter was no longer in the photo. Instead, the silhouette had been exchanged for a much shorter one, paying homage to Kaoru instead.

“Yeah, I told you that during my interview,” you remind him casually, looking anywhere but his direction as the photo was being zoomed in and out from all sorts of directions under his scrutinizing eye. “I wanted to get better at art, so I took some local classes.”

“Huh,” he hums thoughtfully, handing you back your tablet, “pretty impressive, kid.”

You’ve learned not to take offense to him calling you that. In a sense, he was almost old enough to be your dad (or at least that was what he kept telling you, but you had your doubts)—essentially everyone is a kid in his eyes. If anything, it was more of a term of endearment at this point.

After he opens the doorway to the apartment, you take your shoes off before calling out his son’s name. In the short three weeks that you’ve been at this routine, you’ve found yourself already familiar with the space and easily make yourself at home. Kaoru is in the living room, hunched over a coffee table with his notes scattered everywhere. The boy is muttering formulas to himself as he punches numbers into a calculator, followed by anguished wails before noticing your presence. “[name]-san, help,” he whimpers.

Another normality that’s been created is that Kaoru has dropped the formalities with you per your request. Iwai holds his hands up in defeat, knowing the two of you were going to be busy by the frustrated look on his son’s face. “I’ll get dinner started,” he adds as he saunters off to the kitchen. He knows better than attempt to help in the math or science department—that’s your area of expertise after all.

“Alright kiddo, let’s take a look.” Immediately you get to work, assessing his problem—physics, which had been a real struggle for the boy—step by step while his dad observes from the half-wall in the kitchen. You look entirely at ease, patient and productive as you sit shoulder to shoulder with his son. Iwai can hear your simple explanations for why certain numbers do and don’t work in the formula that the question calls for. “...this is why you gotta make sure that you’re always very specific with your units. It’ll lead to context clues later...” you may be a brat, Munehisa muses, but you were an absolute natural with his boy.

As promised, Munehisa was present for your tutoring sessions and often checked in on Kaoru’s progress. Not just by being there either, but pulling out questions from his study guides, changing the numbers, and having the boy solve them so that he could apply what he learned. On top of that, Munehisa made dinner for the three of you each night as well as prepped his son’s lunches for the next day. It was strangely domestic, but also filled a part of his heart he hadn’t known was missing. “Come eat, you two,” he called out from the kitchen as he finished setting the table. When he hears no response, the grey-haired man pokes his head into the living room to see you and Kaoru engrossed in a very serious conversation fueled by hushed whispers. Focusing his hearing on words rather than the gentle pitter patter of rain hitting the window, he can make out a couple sentences.

“...what if I don’t pass the exams?”

“Hey, you’re gonna do amazing, Kao-chan. You’re already figurin’ out most of these problems on your own, you could get into any school in the prefecture. And we’ve still got a couple months to go, and you’re doing so well, you don’t need to be so hard on yourself.” A small part of Munehisa’s heart aches. Where did he go wrong as a dad for his son to be this hard on himself?

“You’re going to ace it, Kaoru,” he says without thinking, causing the two of you to snap your heads in his direction. Iwai’s expression is soft—a juxtaposition to how it usually is—as he locks eyes with his son. For a moment, the boy looks as if he’s going to cry while having the ability to light up the entire apartment with how bright he’s smiling. Such a soft, tender moment between father and son that you can’t help but think you shouldn’t be here. “Now c’mon, let’s have dinner.” Iwai offers you a hand to pull you off the floor while his son is already setting off to the small dining room at Mach speed. Even after hoisting yourself off the tatami mats, however, Iwai’s hand is still loosely gripping yours. “Thank you. For everything.”

“Uh, y-yeah, no problem!” Your hand retracts from his immediately, as if his skin were made of fire rather than flesh, before you flit off to take the empty seat across from Kaoru to gush over how wonderful your meal looked.

That softness never left Iwai Munehisa’s face, even as he took the seat between you and his son at the little circular table designed for four. The three of you say grace before digging in, with a small reminder to have Kaoru eat his veggies. Since you had started tutoring him over the last couple weeks, the environment in the Iwai household had shifted to something more domesticated—homier—than Munehisa was used to.

And he would be a fucking liar if he said he didn’t like it.

A part of him wonders if this could have been his life from the get-go had Kaoru been born his son; if Kaoru had you as his mom, would this be what life would be like?

Full stop, Munehisa, he grumbles internally.

This was a contract deal. You tutor his son for entrance exams in exchange for meals because he knows for a fact now all you eat is garbage, as well as ensuring that Kaoru is receiving the care that a lonely only child needs. Yet, despite this whole contract set-up, you found yourself seeing the boys even on the days you didn’t have tutoring sessions. There were days when Akira, the part-time employee at Untouchable, would watch the store and both the Iwai men would pay you a visit at the shop, staying until you had finished up your shift for the day. Other times, you and Munehisa would subconsciously meet outside your shopfront and walk together towards his apartment before realizing it was a Sunday or a Thursday—two days you always had off from tutoring.

You were at his apartment almost as much as you were at your own.

Conversation flowed between you and Kaoru so easily, ranging from school to local sports to art. “Oh! I forgot to show you something Kao-chan! Pardon me,” you abruptly stood up, skipping to the living room to grab your tablet from your work bag. Unlocking it and pulling up the painting, you flip the screen over to show Kaoru the completed artwork. For a moment, the boy is marveled as he recognizes his father’s coat and his school uniform on the figures facing the water. The striations in the rock formations, the shadows of the trees—everything is mesmerizing.

“Don’t forget to print a copy for us so we can hang it up,” Iwai reminds you. Though, it’s the first you’re hearing of this. You shoot Iwai a sheepish half-grin before clearing off your plate. Of the three of you, you’re the last one to finish, so Kaoru takes his time clearing the table while Munehisa grabs you a glass of red wine to accompany his own neat whiskey. “I’ll take care of the dishes—“

“Wait, no you cooked. Let me—“ you tried to offer, but the weapon’s dealer just shooed you away with a nonchalant flick of his wrist.

“You kids finish studying before it gets too late, I’ll take care of it.” While Kaoru has already sputtered his gratitude towards his dad and flees back to the living room, you’re still standing in the small kitchen slash dining area, collecting the remaining dishes for Iwai. “What did I just say?” He balks, drying his hands on the towel draped over his shoulder. Before you have a chance to respond, he grabs your wine that’s perched on the counter in one hand, the other gingerly placed on the small of your back as nudges you towards the living room, mumbling something along the lines of, “you never listen, ya brat.” Without another protest, you pluck the glass from his fingers, pretending the heat from his large hand on your back didn’t cause your flesh to erupt into flames.

“Alrighty, where did we leave off, Kao-chan?”

“We were working on phenotypes and genetics.” Easy enough—first year biology, you think to yourself. You go through explaining alleles to Kaoru and dominant and recessive traits with him, and how recessive traits can end up becoming more prominent in offspring.

“So if I was actually my dad’s son, there’s a chance I would have had grey eyes?”

Huh?

“Kao-chan—“

“It’s okay. I’ve always known he wasn’t my real dad.” Oh. Oh. Well that makes this ten thousand times more difficult. From your own experience, it was already hard enough being the only child and never being enough for your biological parents. In theory, they should love you unconditionally—they brought you into this world. However, this circumstance is entirely foreign to you. “My parents died when I was a baby, and he took me in because he was close to them. But sometimes, I wonder if he did that just because he was close to them, ya know? Sometimes I wonder if he even views me as his son.”

Your heart broke—shattered into thousands of tiny little shards that stuck to the muscle fibers in your body. It probably didn’t help at all that Iwai was initially so focused on running his stupid shop to the point where his own son—biological or not—needed to make excuses to see him. But at the same time, Iwai Munehisa was so overly protective of Kaoru that there was no way he didn’t view him as his child.

“Maybe,” you start off slowly, thinking back to the final question of your interview with Munehisa. “His own example of parenting is a little skewed, so he’s trying his best to do the opposite of how he was raised so that he does better with you.”

“Yeah, but you’re much better at it, [name]-san,” you frown slightly at this. In the month or so that you’ve known the Iwai family, you have to commend the fact that Munehisa has been doing much better than when you met him. His guard was still up, of course, but he was home much more with Kaoru and he was absolutely trying. But there are still parts of the boy that are filled with uncertainty and doubt—parts of him that still long for being coddled like a child because he was still one underneath it all. Subconsciously, you wrap an arm around his shoulder, offering him a loose hug that he was free to back out from at any moment.

He didn’t.

“You know what one of the first things I ever said to your dad was?” Kaoru stiffens slightly but doesn’t say anything in response. Instead, he buries himself further into the hug because he can’t remember the last time that he was given a crumb of parental affection. “‘We were all kids at some point. Some of us just choose to live with the consequences of our parents’ actions longer than others’. I told him that because every choice I make is a direct result of how I responded to my upbringing.” And now that you think about it, maybe Iwai Munehisa has seen more than you realize. In fact, you’re almost certain he has by the way he lives and raises his own child.

He was also still living with the consequences of how he was raised.

It seems his son resonates with the sentiment, as Kaoru sniffles while sitting up, but remains quiet while he still leans shoulder to shoulder with you. Despite textbooks and notebooks still being open and scattered across the living room, it was clear that he just needed a moment to be—to exist and sit and stew on his own thoughts. Once again, you reach to wrap an arm around Kaoru’s shoulder while your free hand reaches for the stemless wine glass, both of you watching the drips of the rain creating streaks on the glass of the balcony door.

From the kitchen, Iwai shuts off the water when he’s cleaned off the all the dishes. The only noises that can be heard from the living room is the water hitting glass and the occasional setting down of glass on wood, but there’s no talking. No praise from solved equations and gentle goading to finding the right answer. There’s nothing at all. There’s an intimate stillness that Iwai almost feels guilty for looking in on that creates an ache in his chest.

How the fuck were you so much better at handling his son than him?

Iwai swallows the contents of his glass in one gulp before pouring him another shot of whiskey that he will hopefully sip on as intended.

Looking outside the balcony door himself, Munehisa realizes the rain isn’t going to let up any time soon. Kaoru also likes a nice, hot mug of cocoa on rainy nights like this. While turning to heat milk on the stove, the weapons dealer wracks his brain as to if he even owns an umbrella so that you don’t have to walk home in this storm without one. He should have one, right? There’s no way he’s that shitty of a father that he doesn’t have an umbrella for his kid when it rains.

His extra one is still at Untouchable, where he usually keeps it in the event someone else needs one or if he’s got business to tend to. Upon this realization, Iwai groans before bringing the cocoa to the living room for his son.

“Kaoru, ya got an extra umbrella somewhere?” Munehisa asks gently, ignoring the panic that spreads across both Kaoru’s and your faces while the two of you pry yourselves apart. The boy thanks his dad, shamelessly sipping at the treat before turning to face away from the window.

“Actually I think I left it in my locker at school, sorry dad.”

“S’all right,” he says nonchalantly as you begin helping Kaoru pack up his notes and study guides, “maybe [name]-san can have her husband come bring by an umbrella so she don’t get sick—“ you sputter out a distinguished laugh, grateful you hadn’t been drinking the rest of your wine or you surely would have spit it all over Kaoru.

“Husband? The only thing I’m married to is the idea of getting to work for the International Space Station.” Munehisa doesn’t receive the opportunity to comment on the fact that you’re nearly thirty and not married, thanks to his son who lights up like a start at the mention of the ISS.

“Woah, is that your dream job, [name]-san?! That’s so cool!” Kaoru begins rattling off a few facts he knows about the solar system and a few accomplishments of NASA and where water can be found on Mars. Feeding his enthusiasm, you explain why water can be found on Mars in the first place and how, despite this discovery, we can’t necessarily just up and move to that planet. While the two of you geek out slightly over the stars and planets, Iwai has replenished your now empty glass of Cabernet. “Dad, why doesn’t [name]-san just stay the night until the storm stops?”

“Kaoru, that’s inappropriate.” He would be lying if he said that thought hadn’t crossed his mind. At first, he immediately banished it because he just assumed your spouse would come and get you. Then knowing there was nobody waiting at home, Iwai just didn’t want to admit that he liked the idea of you staying a little more than he should.

“B-but It’s worse to let her go home in this weather cause she’ll get sick and you’ll get sick from walking her home!” Coward, his subconscious screamed. Coward coward coward, you’re a fucking coward Munehisa. His own son has to scold him into what is clearly a smarter choice for everybody’s health merely because he’s too fucking chicken to deal with potential situations that would arise from you staying over for a night. Wait, his mind argues, nothing would even happen because you would have to have some semblance of interest in him for any of those scenarios and there was no way—

“Kao-chan, your father’s right. I couldn’t put you guys out like that. Besides, it’s not that far of a walk, I’ll be alright—“

“What? No, you’re not putting us out,” Iwai combats, feeling the need to squash the idea that your presence is a burden on the family. If anything, your presence was a necessity.

“It’s not that big of a deal—“

“I’ll sleep on the couch tonight; you take my bed.” The grey-haired man is adamant now, while Kaoru is slightly pleased with himself. It’s been a long time since they’ve had company, let alone someone stay at their house. In fact, he doesn’t think anyone has since he’d been adopted. And Kaoru likes having you around, and it’s clear as day to him that his dad doesn’t mind either. So what if his umbrella was in his closet?

After it had been decided that you would crash the Iwai home, Kaoru had finished his cocoa while continuing to ask about other things about space. It was a pleasant surprise, being able to talk about these things with another person who was just as interested. Who knows, maybe one day Kaoru would grow up and want to study galaxies too?

When the boy had said his good nights, Iwai lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in. “You’re both a pain in my ass, ya know that?” His arms are draped over the back of the couch, one hand cradling what had to be his fifth glass of straight whiskey. You turn to face him from where you’re still perched on the floor, your back resting along his right leg with your torso still facing the storm.

“Hey, I said I could go home—“

“Yeah, you could. But Kaoru would never let me hear th’ end of it.” The two of you lapse into silence once again, letting both of your minds wander.

“He’s a good kid, ya know,” you start off slowly, “and I know it’s none of my business, but whether he’s biologically your son or not, he’s still your son.” A stifled laugh rolls off of Iwai’s chest in delicate waves before it’s washed down with more whiskey.

“He’s my son, that’s for sure. I just don’t want him to turn into a good-for-nothing scumbag like me,” your eyes peel away from the lightning lighting up the streets of Shibuya, setting your glass down with a scowl crossing your face as you turn to face the weapons dealer. “Maybe he’s lucky that he doesn’t share any of my genetics. Otherwise he would be doomed from the start.”

“Iwai, children are a product of their environment. Look at how much happier he’s been since you started coming around more often. If he hears how lowly you think of yourself, he’ll start to reflect that behavior—“

“What good does it do him to have a thug for a dad?” The grey-haired man snaps, grabbing ahold of your wrist much like he had the very first time you confronted him, though definitely not as tight. His grey eyes are locked with yours once again, hulking body causing yours to pale in comparison.

Prey.

Him versus you.

But this time, you don’t feel fear tingle down your spine. You don’t feel the need to shrink away from him because you know he could hurt you like a predator hunts. Iwai Munehisa wouldn’t do that to you. “That scare you, kid? Knowing sweet little Kao-chan’s dad is a thug? Is former Yakuza? That daddy’s got people coming after him and Kaoru left and right because of shit I did in the past?”

Iwai Munehisa wouldn’t hurt you.

“Sounds like you’re more scared about him knowing that than I am. Why would your past bother me? It’s in the past.” A growl tears at his lips before he throws your wrist towards the couch. It’s not enough force to hurt you in the slightest, just enough to pull you away from him so he can bury his shamed face in his hands with his rocks glass long forgotten on the tatami mats.

“I’m a fucking coward,” he admits, taking a long pause before continuing, “ever since he was a baby and his mother tried to sell him for drug money, I was so hellbent on making sure he never found out the truth about himself or me—that anyone found out the truth about us. Otherwise people would prolly just attach a stigma to his name like they did to me when I was a kid.” Still listening intently, you fix yourself on the couch properly so that you aren’t kneeling on the tatami mats anymore, but rather sitting beside Iwai. He’s not crying, but you can hear the caged and choked breaths trying to escape his lungs. It’s deafening, even with the flooding rain outside, Munehisa drowns out all noise, including the sound of small footsteps approaching.

“Sell me?” Both you and Iwai snap your heads towards the hallway where Kaoru stands in his pajamas, alarm painting the sclerae of his eyes. “W-what are you talking about, dad?” The man in question curses under his breath, once again cradling his face in his hands. This was not how he pictured telling his son the truth—in fact he never even planned on it. He always pictured Kaoru doing something great with his life like finding a cure for cancer and settling down with a nice girl, maybe giving him grandchildren. Everything opposite of Munehisa’s own life.

“Just tell him, Mune,” you whisper, placing a hand on his shoulder. Under the skin you could feel knots that had been long built from years of carrying his burdens. Much to your surprise, he doesn’t shirk off your touch, nor react to the use of his shortened name. In an attempt to calm down, he takes in a deep breath that you can feel inflating his lungs to their full capacity, slowly deflating as he lets it out.

“W-When you were a baby, your mother tried to sell you to me for quick drug money. I told her no, but she just left you on my doorstep. At the time, I was Yakuza, but I took you in and left the life behind,” Iwai’s fingers are laced loosely over each other as he stares at the tatami mats. It feels like his world is collapsing—like you and his son were judging him much like everyone else had when they learned who his mother was. Who knows, maybe Kaoru would rather go stay with you and have you raise him instead. He would probably do better with you anyway—you could actually help him with his education and his livelihood. What good is a dropout-turned-yakuza thug anyway?

“Even if that’s the truth, that doesn’t change the fact that you, Iwai Munehisa, are my dad. And I’m your son.”

Wow. You really felt like you shouldn’t be here at this moment—you’re ruining it. Quietly, you try (and fail miserably) to sneak off to the kitchen to grab more wine because stars above know that you need it. There are hushed words shared between the two of them, low enough that even straining your hearing doesn’t permit you to distinguish anything. Their much-needed talk goes on for quite some time, allowing you to inadvertently snoop through your surroundings. There are a few pictures of him and Kaoru on the fridge from fishing trips and school events, as well as a math exam that has a red one hundred one circled. It’s clear to you that whatever had been weighing down on Munehisa never stopped him from loving his son, just chucked the boy away in a vault to be safe from the dangers of his past.

Voices are still indistinguishable, that is, until you hear Iwai’s voice raising nearly to the volume of the thunder outside. “Don’t make me ground you, kid,” but the threat seems empty to you as Kaoru walks away laughing.

“Goodnight, mom-san!” You spit the Cabernet you were holding in your mouth back into your glass—a gross visual and even grosser to actually do.

“Kaoru!” Munehisa stands up in a half-assed attempt to chase his son. He stops in front of the kitchen, drooping his head before looking at the embarrassment creeping up your neck. “Sorry about that.”

“I-I should go, shouldn’t I?” The weapons dealer just shakes his head.

“I’s fine,” he mumbles, “let me get ya some clothes to sleep in.” Iwai disappears temporarily, leaving you alone in the kitchen with your now nearly empty glass of red wine while he shuffles about in his room. He’s not gone for long, not nearly long enough as you would’ve liked to attempt to compose yourself.

“Thank you,” you mumble quietly as he sets the clothes on the counter.

“I should be thanking you,” Munehisa replies, grey eyes locked on yours. He looks like he wants to say something more, a giveaway from the way he licks his lips. “So it really doesn’t bother you, huh?” Absentmindedly, you pick the clothes off the counter, holding them between your hands while you finger a loose thread on the oversized tee. Anything to avoid the intense gaze in his normally stone-cold eyes.

Lava felt cooler than his gaze.

“Why should it? It’s not who you are anymore, right?” You can’t bring yourself to look at him right now. He’s too intense, too wild and free from the chains of his past. Iwai Munehisa is a loose cannon now, no longer needing to hide any part of himself.

“So then what’s got you so scared you can’t look me in the eye?” When you say nothing in response, he bounds closer to you until he’s towering over you much like he did during your first meeting. Long, surly digits wrap around your chin and jaw until you’re met with his steely eyes. Though, maybe steel isn’t a proper comparison. Steel is typically cold, and his irises are anything but. The man before you had just had a catharsis, like coal had been heated and pressurized and revealing the birth of brand-new diamonds. “Look me in the eye and tell me you’re not scared,” his voice is husky, thicker than his usually brusque tone.

“I’m not scared,” your words barely pass your lips, but do not waver with trepidation. There was no reason to be scared, not of Munehisa. Scared of the fact that he’s standing so close to you while he cradled your jaw? Absolutely. Frightened slightly by the way his face cautiously edges closer and closer to yours until the overwhelming scent of gun powder and alcohol floods your senses? Check. Terrified of the fact that you are incredibly turned on knowing he could probably snap your neck in a heartbeat?

Hell yes.

“I’m not scared, Mune,” you repeat, reprising the use of his shorter name. It sounds different coming from your mouth, he subconsciously notes. Back in his yakuza days, that name was sinful—a reminder of his reputation. But from your lips, it sounded heavenly.

“I am,” is all he responds with before slotting his lips over yours. Warm and pliable, is the first thought that comes to your mind, much like modeling clay that had been worked between your fingers. Contrary to everything that screams ‘Iwai Munehisa’, his kiss is gentle—experimenting to feel every layer of fragile skin of your lips against his own. Shy, tender, and tentative, Iwai moves his fingers from your chin to wrap an arm around your waist.

Delicate was never a word that you think of to describe Iwai Munehisa. Or maybe delicate wasn't the right word—fragile? It made sense in your train wreck of a mind from the way he sucked in his breath through is nose as your fingers cupped his cheeks. So fragile, as if he were going to break from such a gentle action that he needed to pull away before he crumbled.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Iwai breathes, taking three steps back like you’d suddenly come down with the plague.

“Wha—no it’s—“

“You should get some sleep kid,” before you can say anything else, the weapons dealer has already fled down the hallway and locking the door to the bathroom and leaving you to your own devices. Between pursed lips, you grab the empty glasses that you shared and washed them quickly before grabbing the clothes you carelessly tossed on the floor. From the bathroom, you hear the water running accompanied by wordless grumbles.

Munehisa’s room is exactly how you pictured it. Simple and clean with no superlatives. The bed is made nearly hotel style—like the room hadn’t been lived in for years. Considering the catharsis that he had gone through tonight, part of you wonders just how many of his days he had spent watching every second like it was going to be his last, rather than being in the moment.

Alive and a life are two very different things.

As expected, you drown in the fabric he’s given you—expected from someone twice your height and overall size. They’re comfy, you note, the warmth of the masses combating the springtime storms. Robotically, you check your phone for the time—the clock inching towards midnight to Sunday. From routine alone, you knew that Kaoru didn’t have school tomorrow and you and Munehisa had a later start to your day thanks to your part-timers’ availability.

Before you have the chance to think twice, you’re back on your bare feet, all but stomping towards the living room to where Munehisa lays facing towards the sliding door, staring at the rain. He heard you—he had to have. There’s no way he can’t hear the deafening silence of your own revelation; he has to know. “Go to bed, [name],” he bites with no fire.

“No.”

“Then go home.”

“No.”

Iwai throws the thin blanket he has on himself off as he thrusts his legs off the couch. Every movement is silently violent until he’s hunched over you for the second time tonight. Despite every intention of holding malice in his eyes, he can’t when it comes to you. Not when you’re wearing his clothes and looking up at him with a resolve stronger than his self-loathing. “What do ya want then, [name]?” He asks quietly, echoing the question he had for you three weeks ago.

“Honestly?” You start off, unraveling your arms that were wound around your chest. “I would like for you to let go.”

For a moment, Iwai is taken aback—literally, as signified by the half step he takes towards the couch and away from you. It’s not quite a moment of fear in his eyes; more of an amalgam of questioning and begging—of longing.

The hunter has become the hunted.

“Just let it go, Mune. Your son already forgives you for your past, you need to do the same.” Much to your surprise, a laugh jumbled with a grunt heaves off his chest. The trepidation from earlier is gone, evident by the way his shoulders and chin straighten up from standing erect.

“Let go, huh? You sure you want that?” The double meaning isn’t lost on you, and you’re ready for whatever he throws your way. You’d been ready, you realize, from the moment your fear took a back seat to wanting to aid Kaoru in any way that you could. You’d been ready since the moment you picked up the phone and had him meet you in Kichijouji. Or maybe, you had forgiven him already—not that you necessarily had a place to do so—the moment he had started shifting his focus into being there for his son. It was all you had ever wanted from your family, maybe it wasn’t too late to save other kids from the pain.

Maybe your unresolved daddy issues run much deeper than you thought.

However, Iwai wasn’t much better. He had been so vehemently adamant that if he pretended to be a questioningly upstanding citizen, Kaoru would have a better chance at making it in the world. The grotesque nature of his own upbringing had left him longing for someone—anyone—to unconditionally accept him. No matter how much he told himself the yakuza had welcomed him with open arms, he knows that it was their opportunity to thread his marionette strings. And the society he was surrounded in had blockaded him so long ago, he clutched and grasped at broken straws.

But not you, no. Despite him easily being able to snap your neck and hide your body, you stood toe to toe with him, always ready to fight back without a moment’s hesitation. With you, there was no stigma attached to his name, only knowledge and understanding and an empathy that transcended and smashed through every wall of his.

An unconditional acceptance.

An unconditional love.

Iwai’s mommy issues ran deep, maybe even a little steeper than yours.

“I’m not scared, Mune,” you repeated, pulling him from his reverie that blasted at meters per second. “I have no reason to be.” With large strides, as one would expect of his size, Iwai crosses through the distance he had out between the two of you before grasping at your jaw with finesse and hunger all at once to lock his lips with yours once again. It had been a long time since the weapons dealer had actively sought out the object of his affections; his own desires had taken a back seat for the well-being of his son.

All that was left of him now was depravity and desperation.

Even those two elements to his core were not going to last long. Not with the way you were clutching onto him so tightly with your arms wound around his neck. Despite the flames of hunger constantly being stoked by mere touch, Iwai’s lips are just as gentle and hesitant as they had been before you changed your clothing. It was clear to you that you were going to need to guide the weapons dealer—much as you had been the last month or so. Your tongue cautiously snakes out from your mouth, gingerly running along the seam of his lips to ask for gentle permission.

Things may be moving fast, but you didn’t want to rush this. Not with Munehisa. Not with the man who was so foreign to genuine affection.

Tentatively, Iwai parts his lips ever so slightly, allowing you access to the first layer of him. Candy. He tastes like the cherry sucker he had in his mouth just after dinner to accompany his whiskey. A mixture of smoke and sweetness with a lasting bitterness sounded as if Iwai had decomposed and turned into mere flavor receptors of the tongue. But it’s a taste you find yourself wanting more of as your tongue dances alongside his.

At a snail’s pace, Iwai releases your cheeks and jaw, sliding his palms down the goose bumps on your neck and soft expanse of your arms until they find purchase on your hips. The gesture is cautious, even as he coaxes your body towards him until he falls back onto the couch, bringing you with until you’re left to straddle him.

“Scared, Mune?” You ask in a whisper when you come up for air. Disregarding the need for oxygen, you make it a point to keep your lips ghosting over his, showing the desire to remain connected to him. His eyes are half-open, heavy lids drooping and the crinkles of his crow’s feet are settling in as he attempts to catch his breath—all with the faintest twinge of a grin.

“Should I be?”

“That’s for you to decide.” One of his hands maneuvers its way from your waist, back up to your cheek to cup the skin in full. Perhaps you were more aware from the intimacy of the fact that his hand nearly could hold an entire half of your face or the calcification of hardened skin on his palms, or perhaps your body had slowly come to tune itself to the man beneath you.

“I think I’ve been alone for long enough.” The distance between the both of you closes once again, Iwai’s movements renewed by fire followed by another clash of lightning. His grip on your waist tightens as he sinks you further into him, grinding his pelvis into yours as if granting permission to touch him more. Planting your hands on his chest, you take a moment to graze the backs of your nails gingerly along the openings of his tank top.

You think back to your joke about him watching his figure when you first met him, and silently berate yourself.

Iwai Munehisa didn’t need to watch his figure—he’s a literal statue of Adonis come to life.

Hard muscle twitches under every touch of yours in conjunction with the occasional throaty groan that rumbles along your lips. His tongue is somehow both rushing to explore every nook and cranny and crooked edge of your teeth while simultaneously attempting to commit every inch of your mouth to memory. Despite the loss of his hands on your waist, the sudden cold rush of air swirling around your midriff is a welcome sensation as his calloused digits working their up your body from under the shirt. Your entire body erupts with need—it was no longer a want or a mere whim. You needed this man in every way.

In hopes to urge Iwai further, you break apart momentarily to remove the borrowed clothing from the upper half of your body, leaving you bare chested in front of the weapons dealer. “Fuck,” he mumbles, pupils turning to pinpricks as he drinks in the sight of your slightly erect nipples. Like a man hypnotized, his lips latch on to your left breast, licking and sucking at the flesh as your head tosses back. The motion causes you to grind further into his lap, greeting his clothed erection with a welcome reminder of your presence.

You had never been one for a ton of oral attention, but there was something so damn mesmerizing about Iwai holding a nipple between his teeth while he rolled the nub with his expert tongue. Part of you wonders if it has something to do with the suckers. Another part of you only thinks to let out a sharp hiss of breath as he tends to your right nipple next. “M-Mune,” you whimper, earning another grind of his covered cock against your damp folds, “l-lemme touch you.”

“Hold on a sec, baby, I’m a little busy.”

Your brain goes into overdrive as he frees a hand from holding you up to dipping into the front of your borrowed pajamas bottoms, nails scraping along the waistband of your panties. The thought of Iwai getting closer and closer still coaxed a moan from your lips; or maybe it was the way he goaded your nipple to complete erection. Maybe it was both—maybe it was the way he made it a point to tease by inspecting the wet spot in your panties with two fingers.

“M-Mune, please.”

“All nice an’ wet for me, baby? Lemme just double check.” Even with you still straddling and trying force yourself closer to him, Iwai managed to sneak his fingers past your knickers until he’s met with a sloppy, slick cunt. His half-lidded gaze up at you was laser-focused—as if he couldn’t look anywhere else but your own lust-laden eyes. The pads of his fingers glide along your slit before slightly nudging apart your opening to get a real feel for you. The mere thought of touching you, rubbing your clit until you screamed, cumming and gushing around his fingers—Iwai can’t even remember the last time such thoughts crossed his mind, let alone turned him on so much.

He wants to take his time, he realizes,

Iwai’s touch sends a thousand volts up your spine, causing the tension in your neck to throw your head back as you hissed in pleasure. His middle finger searches every nook and cranny of your nether regions, smearing your excitement all around until no area is left untouched. While he’s preoccupied with exploring you, you reciprocate the treatment with dizzy kisses, unabashedly sliding your tongue against his while your fingers tugged at his tank top. He’s only slightly annoyed that the two of you have to pause so that you can pull the fabric off—a small sacrifice to further progress. The second he’s freed from one of his prisons, his brittle lips latch onto your left collarbone, teeth sinking in to be chased by his tongue while leaving reminders of the moment. At the same time, his ring and middle finger circle your clit in a steady, languid rhythm, coaxing more of your wetness to come forth until you’re absolutely drenched. “O-oh, f-fuck Munehisa!”

Hearing his name made his groin throb beneath you, the pulsing wet, hot warmth tantalizing and torturing you both. Giving your clit one last swirl, his fingers travel further downward, pushing apart your lips until he slowly nestles his middle finger inside your sopping wet hole. His digits are much larger than your own, you noted immediately—his longest finger alone already stretching you more deliciously than your tiny infantile hands. “Ohh, fuck yeah, baby. I’on’t even gotta stretch you out with how fuckn’ wet ya are for me.”

“But I want you to,” Iwai lets out his signature gruff laugh before jamming his finger deep into you with no warning. The lone digit is roaming, exploring your deepest caverns to figure out the fastest way to make you go from zero to hundred. “Mune, it feels so good.” All the praise goes from his ears straight to his dick, the flesh between the two of you now painfully straining against his thin boxers.

After a few twists and turns, Iwai brings his pointer finger to the party, the duo now on the hunt for that squishy tissue to send you over the edge. He refused to fuck you until you came at least once—he couldn’t disappoint you. Not now, not after all the progress you two had overcome together. Crooking both digits, his nails finally find their target, scraping along your g-spot that makes you tremble and your muscles spasm. “You’re mine now, baby girl,” he croons.

You wished he gave you a better warning—a sufficient warning for the relentless attack his fingers had on your g-spot or the way the angle of his wrist was shamelessly scrubbing at your clit. The muscles in your legs can no longer maintain their terse nature, dropping the suspension you had in his lap slightly to give better access to your nether regions. Even still, Iwai couldn’t stop now. “Oh fuck, oh fuck Mune, fuck fuck fuck fuck holy shit I’m gonna—“

“Just let go, baby,” his voice is sardonically sweet despite his damn near malicious actions. A third finger joins the rest of the digits mercilessly pounding away at your insides, stretching you beyond what you were used, while your abused clit cried for him to stop. That cry coming in the form of your walls squeezing around his fingers until a gush of fluid secretes itself onto his palm. Thanks to the breakneck speed of his movements and the sheer force of your orgasm, your release sprays all onto his bare chest and the waistband of his boxers, even parts of his face. “God damn, woman,” he pants out, a new hunger forming in the pit of his belly. Despite you trying to catch your breath, Iwai pulls his fingers from your core and wraps his soaked hand behind your neck and crushes your lips to his.

Tasting yourself on him is a strangely delightful experience. The slight saltiness of your emission mixed with the signature musk of his skin and sweetness from an overdose of suckers has you groaning throatily into the kiss. Shamelessly your pelvis grinds into his, rubbing his proud, protruding covered cock along your tingling slit. His hands move from where they are holding you against your neck and hips, hooking into the waistband of your borrowed bottoms before pulling them off of your lower half. It’s tricky to maneuver with the way he refuses to stop kissing you—he can’t stop, he learns—but he manages to guide the clothing off of you somehow.

The only thing separating the two of you now was thin, soaked boxers and your last chance to walk away from one another.

Not that you would.

Instead, you hook your claws into the elastic of his boxers, suspending yourself above his lap momentarily to slide the fabric past his knees. Your soaked entrance slides along the length of him, greeting him with lubricant. Iwai grits his teeth as you do so, throwing his head back before he pulls your head down to rest your forehead against his sweaty skin. His grey eyes bore straight into yours, electricity sparking between the two of you. “Y-ya sure, [name]?”

Rather than answer, you swivel your hips to slide his cock in before slamming the entirety of his girth inside you in one fell swoop. In hindsight, that was probably a bad idea with the way you can feel the mushroom head of his weeping cock knocking at your cervix or the way the width of his cock stretches you even further than three of his massive fingers. “Jesus fucking Christ!” You howl and sob, head thrown back as you nearly sob from the intrusion. Through heavy pants, Munehisa anchors your hips in place so that you can’t pull away, no matter how torturous for the both of you.

“Just stay still, baby, don’t move.”

“M-Mune, it hurts.”

“Well nobody told ya to shove my whole dick in at once, idiot,” the two of you share a laugh for a moment before he guides you to rest on his chest while your cunt stretched and acclimated to his dick.

“I-I wanted to,” you whimper as he shifts ever so slightly, the curls of his pubis scraping along your thighs.

“Yeah, baby? You wanted to? That why you started hanging around my kid—to try to get daddy’s dick?” His salacious words cause your walls to pulsate around him, squeezing him further in and making him groan at the contraction. “That’s it, isn’t it? Naughty lil girl, you don’t deserve my mercy.” His large hands, wrapping every square centimeter of your hips, began to jostle you in a way to rub your skin together before they start lifting you up in his lap. It’s a reprieve, almost, having his large cock begin to withdraw until his hands force your pelvis back down onto him.

“M-Mune,” you whine, “still hurts.” But the curses and cries do nothing to slow down his rhythm. If anything, Munehisa plants his feet on the tatami mats below him to thrust himself further up into you every time he brought your hips back down. The lightning and thunder painting the sky past the sliding door is merely a full thought, each violent thrust of his cock much more noticeable than nature’s storm.

“Tell me the truth and maybe I’ll go a little easier on you!” He howls, no longer giving a shit if Kaoru heard the lewd slapping of his heavy ballsack against your skin or the breathless cries leaving your lungs. Okay, that was a lie, he did care. But it was more of a subconscious thought buried at the back of his mind that was drowned out by the mere thought of stuffing you full of his cum. The idea alone was enough to drown out the wordless babbles leaving your mouth in accompaniment to the drool dripping from the seam of your lips. “Gonna take my cum like a good girl, baby?”

“Y-yes, please! Please!” You warble, squeezing your walls around his thick cock like a vice. His thrusts are relentless, his hips skyrocketing towards your limp body that can no longer stand his brutality. Iwai’s head is thrown back once again as you collapse forward, your body too numb as your second orgasm begins to wrack through, allowing you to nestle into his bare throat. “‘M so close, Mune.” Your bones are turning to jelly, you notice, as you snake your hands towards your clit for the final push.

Well, attempt to anyway.

Iwai smacks your hand away with blinding speed, thrusts slowing down a fraction as he does so before his hand replaces yours on your nub. “Only I get to make you cum from now on, got it?”

“Then hurry up and fucking do it!” You howl, sinking your teeth into whatever parts of his flesh you can reach. The pads of three of his fingers are relentlessly scrubbing away at your clit, a mixture of both of your slop spraying over the both of you. “Oh god yes, right there! Right there!”

“Fuck!” Iwai sobs as his balls tighten before flooding your pussy with his cum, his thrusts becoming languid as he sees his release all the way through. At the same time, the throbbing of his dick while he cums resonates within your walls, amplifying the rush of him attacking your clit. “Mm, come on, baby, I can feel it. Cum for me, fucking cum for me.” You aren’t sure what exactly does you over—if it’s his gently softening, massive cock still twitching inside you or the way his digits know just how to play with your bundles of nerves or the way he called you “baby”— but your body tenses one last time as the blue hue of lightning fills the living room.

“Munehisa,” your voice comes as a broken trill, though his name is clear as day, as you release one last time, a waterfall running and soaking his fingers. Proud of his work, Iwai slows his pace down until his fingers are moving dully to bring you down from your overstimulation. The both of you are panting and sweating, nearly half-dead from the exhaustion.

“C’mere, baby,” he purrs in your ear after god knows how many minutes passed. You hiss when he carefully removes his flaccid length from within you, globs of cum dripping from your walls. Without thinking, Iwai takes two fingers to catch the loose emission and stuffs it back inside you for good measure. He never asked if you were on any form of contraceptive—part of him almost hopes that you aren’t. “Lemme clean ya up a lil.”

“Mm, can’t move.” Munehisa chuckles, wrapping his large hands around your thighs before hoisting the both of you up. Despite the action being chaste, your whole abused body tingles at the movement. He carries the both of you towards the bathroom, setting you down on the narrow space of the vanity before untangling your koala-like limbs from his body. Without saying anything, he grabs a washcloth, running it under the tap and wipes away the loose cum that’s already starting to dry and crust over.

It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking, the way his grey eyes have grown cold, and it seems he’s hyper focused on cleaning your skin as best he can. You elect to ignore the fact that he’s making damn sure not to let any cum that’s sitting in your pussy out. Even after he’s cleaned you and himself off, the two of you are lingering in the bathroom in silence, unsure of who should speak first. It seemed it would have to be you. Again.

Finally finding strength in your gelatinous state, you hop off the vanity, grabbing one of Munehisa’s large hands and lead him back out to his room.

“I should sleep on the couch,” he says quietly, though he makes no motion to get up from where both of your naked bodies are pressed on the tops of the sheets. You only shake your head in reply, holding onto his hand even tighter.

“I don’t care if it was dirty talk or what,” you start, recalling the salacious title Munehisa granted himself, “but I have no ill intention towards Kaoru or you. So as long as you let me keep coming around you both, I’ll be here. I’m not going anywhere.” He’s quiet for a moment, eyes darkening at he stares at the floor in contemplation. When he says nothing, you try again. “Will you let me stay, Mune?” The weapons dealer’s head snaps towards you. How the fuck had just his name come to have such a bewitching hold on him? Had it always sounded so pretty? So loved?

It was it just because it was from your lips?

“If I let you stay, I might not let you go.”

“I never said to let me go.”

#persona 5 #persona 5 royal #iwai munehisa #iwai kaoru #iwai x reader #iwai munehisa x reader #untouchable #persona 5 x reader #akira kusuru #lengthy oneshots

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yunhohoe · 4 years ago

Text

Pairing: Mingi x Reader

Warnings: Smoking; Swearing; guns and violence and injury; just some pretty intense moments in general; y/n’s boyfriend is super toxic and unhealthy; fingering; nipple play; unprotected sex; main character death. (Kindly let me know if I missed anything you think should be added)

Genre: ANGST; Smut

Rating: M

Word count: 11k

Summary: Jobs like this were never easy. Your boyfriend Blue was an asshole and you didn’t particularly like your work. But, Blue’s best friend Mingi who always tagged along always made the moments more enjoyable. One day a job gone wrong sends the two of you to eachothers arms.

a/n: Hiii this is my first ever Ateez fic please go easy on meee. If there are confusing parts it is likely going to make sense in the end! This is a story with a twist :)

You were rudely pulled from your sleep by a persistent ringing of your cell phone.

Your hand shot to where it sat next to your pillow. Grabbing it and seeing that it was your boyfriend calling you groaned and quickly swiped to send it straight to voicemail.

Talking to Blue first thing in the morning had always been a pain, he always had something to complain about, usually involving something that you’d done the day before.

You got out of bed and made your way to the shower, your phone buzzed in your hand at least five times and you did your best to ignore it. You knew it was Blue spamming question marks or asking why you aren’t picking up.

You let your phone buzz the entire time you showered, almost purposefully taking your time, you knew you had time. He wasn’t coming to pick you up until 9:00.

You let your hands run all over your body as you rinsed off your favorite body wash, taking in the moment before you had to start a day that had been giving you anxiety for a long time.

When you’d been told a year ago that you’d be given an opportunity to be a part of this program you almost didn’t believe it to be real.

Even though Blue would be there, (despite him being your pick of partner you really couldn’t stand the guy) you said yes.

You said yes for one reason.

Song Mingi.

Blue’s best friend.

Yes. You knew it was wrong that you had always had the biggest crush on your boyfriend's best friend but he was everything Blue wasn’t in all the best ways.

Blue was a coward. Not in the way of getting scared of spiders or ghosts or things. But in the way you knew he’d throw anyone under the bus to save himself if needed, even you.

Mingi was never a coward, while you’d seen him let out a cute scream at a spider or two, you had trusted him with your life. You would trust him with anything.

And it’d been far too long since you’d seen that face…

So you agreed, and here you were, putting on your red lipstick in the mirror. You only wore red lipstick on special occasions and this was definitely to be one.

----------

Once you had gotten ready head to toe in your best you walked out the front door of your apartment building and made your way to the bustling front where taxis were leaving as fast as they arrived.

This city definitely didn’t ever stop.

It had always been going going going…

Just like you. Since the day you were born you’d kept pushing forward at a relentless pace, and here you were, staying in one of the most luxurious apartments in the city, paying for it with money you made.

Well…

“Are we doing this or not y/n? Did you go fucking deaf overnight?”

Blue.

You sighed and turned to see him yelling at you from the driver's seat of his flashy car.

It was a bright shade of teal, four seater car with purple coloring misted over it in spots almost too subtle to see. When the sun caught the paint the right way it lit up with the glitter mixed in and could get almost blinding. Inside was a blue haired man that never ceased to turn heads. It was much like the way you dressed head to toe in glamorous jewelry, your bright red shorts that matched your lipstick were far too short and shifted many glances their way.

You’d really missed dressing up this much. You only ever did when you were going to a job, it probably wasn’t the smartest idea to draw attention to yourself in your line of work. (though it had come in handy as a distraction a few times.)

But, you couldn’t help it, and neither could Blue. Maybe that's why despite all of the toxicity in your relationship you stayed together. You hung well on eachothers arms.

You hopped into the driver's seat and were instantly pulled into a sloppy wet kiss with an intruding tongue. You did your best not to gag and gave him a fake but believable smile as you pulled away.

“You’re making us late.” He grumbled and put his car into drive, he sped up so fast the wheels of the car skidded on the pavement and you were off.

You had to admit, while this was far from your first gig you could never escape the heavy beating of your heart that kicked in once you were on your way.

The interior of Blue’s car was just as extra as him. All black leather with blue lights places perfectly throughout the car to light it up in a cool hue. The deep blue reflected off Blue’s short but scruffy turquoise blue hair, giving it some more depth than it had when he was out of the car.

He did seem cooler when he drove..

Maybe that's another reason why despite his constant harsh words you were drawn to him.

You met him on a job where he was the driver, and the two of you had been tangled up with each other on and off ever since.

The car skidded to a stop and you felt your seatbelt click to halt you from falling too far forward.

You turned to Blue to glare at him for his rough driving but he wasn’t looking at you. He had a giant smile on his face as he waved almost childishly out the window.

Now realizing where you were you sucked in a silent gasp and quickly tugged down the mirror on the visor above you to make sure your hair and makeup were still alright.

You wiped a little bit of lipstick that Blue had smudged under your lips and shoved the visor back up as if nothing had happened.

You took in a deep breath this time, your heart pounding out of your chest, you swore it might actually give you a heart attack.

The bubbling warmness was coming up from your stomach to your throat until you couldn’t stop yourself from saying his name.

“Mingi!” you yelled out of the car window to him.

The tall man approaching your car silently now ducked down a bit to meet your eyes and gave you his signature body melting smile and a tiny wave that he kept close to his body.

Unlike you and Blue, Mingi wasn’t flashy. He was still friendly, and certainly could turn heads in his own way.

But it was almost like he knew he didn’t need to try. You wished you could feel more confident to be like that, effortlessly attractive, the kind of hot that makes you turn heads even when…

“You look like that's what you rolled out of bed wearing!” Blue scolded Mingi as he hopped into the back seat.

“Wow, I’m already being attacked? I’ve been here two seconds.” Mingi dramatically feigned being deeply offended.

Though, he likely *was* wearing what he woke up in. The man was in grey plaid pajama like sweatpants and an oversized plain black hoodie, his hair that had been dyed bright red at one point was now a pale and faded orange and he looked like he needed a couple extra hours of sleep.

But god. Was he the most perfect sight on the eyes. Even Blue, despite his asshole personality couldn’t help but love the man in a way you’d never seen him love anyone, even you.

They’d been best friends since grade school and when you started dating Blue you’d realized they were a package deal.

It always blew your mind how such polar opposite people could become friends. Mingi was kind where Blue was cruel, and Mingi was strong where Blue was weak.

You couldn’t help but kick yourself for sitting in the front seat that day years ago with Blue instead of getting in the backseat with Mingi.

Damn him and his flashy hair, and damn you and your addiction to shiny things, despite how poisonous they might be.

“You look just fine Mingi.” You giggled.

“Thank you.” He lifted his chin up jokingly and smugly. You chuckled and tried your hardest not to study his adorable features and make it obvious that you had some feelings here…

How could such polar opposite people become best friends?

Maybe they weren’t totally opposite, because they did share one thing in common, the same thing that you also had in common with them.

“So where did the app say to meet up?”

*Crimson Rexcruit*

The app each of you had on your phones.

The app you had met them through.

“There's supposed to be two more meeting us at the City Bank.” Blue mumbled off the last bit.

“Wait…” you felt maybe due to the mumbling you’d misheard.

Mingi as well had a confused expression on his face, leaning forward to put his head closer to the front seat.

“I’m sorry. Did you say City Bank? As in the largest bank in the city. As in the most guarded bank in the city?” He questioned his friend.

Blue simply nodded.

You felt your blood turn to ice and you were stiff in your seat.

“Um...Blue...That's not in our grade?” Your voice was almost a squeak.

The way the app worked was you had to have someone else with a high enough grade on the app to vouch for you. Once you had that you could unlock parts of the app that allowed you to take low level jobs with low pay until you got enough good reviews to move higher. You and your group had always hovered around the level of small gas station robberies, usually when no one was there, or only one attendant.

Mingi usually went in with whoever the app told you to meet up with. Blue was your getaway driver, and you were the lookout and distraction if needed.

It had always worked smoothly,it required little planning, and had almost become routine.

This bank robbery was jumping quite a few levels above what you were used to.

“It is now.” He said shortly, not taking his eyes off the road as he drove.

When you join a ‘Crew’ through the app you are required to appoint a leader, and your leader was Blue. The leader would get a lot of details about your jobs that the other crew members wouldn’t, it was to help with deniability and keeping information from getting around. But, damn did it get annoying when Blue kept things from you.

You rolled down your window a crack, remembering that Blue always kept a pack of cigarettes in his center console of his car. You went to grab for one and it was slammed shut almost pinching the tips of your fingers inside.

You yelped out a high pitched gasp and held your hand close to your chest.

Blue still looked at the road but one hand had left the steering wheel and was holding the console lid shut.

“Thought you quit.” He snapped.

You looked back to Mingi who was silent but obviously trying his hardest not to get involved, shifting his gaze out the window as if he couldn’t hear the two of you. He wasn’t one to get nervous or stand down. To anyone but Blue that is.

It was unfortunate because you knew that Mingi was the only one Blue would listen to.

“Well you’re really making me want one.” you said coldly, pissed off for a few reasons now.

“Oh well. There's not many left anyways and you always smoke two in a row for some reason.” He seemed to mock you for your habit.

“She can have one of mine.” Mingi offered from the back. Apparently now not pretending he wasn’t listening to the entire conversation.

“Thank you Mingi.” You sang smiling at him, unbuckling and turning all the way around in your seat so that your ass was almost poking against the windshield.

Blue cussed under his breath and seemed to debate on pushing you back into your seat.

You leaned into the backseat, opening your mouth with a slight smirk on your face, pleased that Blue wasn’t getting his way this time.

Mingi seemed to part his lips slightly along with you, staring at the space between yours.

His eyes locked onto the way your tongue slightly rolled behind your teeth as you waited for him to stop fumbling his fingers over the pack he was pulling out of his hoodie pocket and put the cigarette in your mouth.

His eyes only darted down for a quick second as he pulled one out, they were back to your lips like a magnet as he reached his hand out to place the cigarette between your lips.

You felt a place in the not too far back of your mind wish that instead of pulling his hand back away after that he’d let it linger, let a finger trail the border of your lips, tracing the red to memorize with his fingers the way he was with his eyes.

But, instead he quickly pulled away and relaxed back into his seat. He smiled a thin toothless smile at you, as if to say ‘our transaction here is done now.’

Which it was.

That didn’t make it less frustrating though. You didn’t huff though. You were used to bottling it all up, and you’d come to terms long ago with the fact that Mingi would never be yours.

Blue was who you had chosen, and he did have things about him that were positives to being his.

He was richer than Mingi. Being the leader came with an extra cut of the pay each job since he would be the one to get the highest charges if caught. It was fair, and none of you had ever argued it.

Blue was good in bed. Not that you didn’t imagine Mingi to be either…

But, you couldn’t really complain there. He liked to toss you around, and you liked to be tossed around.

You settled back into your seat and caught Blue giving you a sulky glance. You pretended not to notice and instead of addressing what would likely turn into a fight, you grabbed the lighter set in the cupholder. You lit your cigarette, tossing the lighter back into the cupholder without care, causing it to bounce down back out and down onto the floor.

Not caring to pick it up either you rolled down your window a bit more, letting the breeze carry the smoke out of the car.

Why was your heart still beating so fast? You knew how these jobs went, you knew how this job would go. Right?

It was quiet for a long time.

Blue usually liked to turn up his music and get hyped up before a job, so you took to just staring out the window as you smoked.

You caught a glimpse of mingi in the car’s rear view mirror. He was looking at you.

Instead of looking away from being caught staring, he stuck out his tongue goofily. You chuckled and coughed a bit on the hit you had been taking in.

Cute.

He was always so cute.

More seconds passed, or was it minutes?

You didn’t remember the drive to the bank taking this long…

-------

Finally your car was parked by a side door that you were told would be left unlocked for your crew and the two solo Crimson Rexruit users.

They came in a second car and were to assist Mingi with the robbery and they would take the money to the client that put the job out.

Your team never dealt with transporting the money, your money always promptly got distributed by your job title and deposited into your accounts by the app after the client received their money.

“Okay. I’ll go stand out and wait for the-” Mingi started.

“Wait.” Blue cut him off. Uncharacteristically he gulped, and his hands fidgeted on the steering wheel, though he’d already parked the car. He took a deep breath in and chuckled.

“So I’m actually going in with you this time. We need four for the job inside and they’d only hire five people.” Blue explained, then turned to you. “You’re gonna have to drive.”

“Excuse me?”

Though it was your thoughts exactly, it was Mingi’s voice that spoke.

Blue turned around as much as he could in his seat to face his best friend.

“She can do this and be look out. It’ll be fine.” though nothing in Blue’s nervous tone made you feel like everything was fine. Blue never went in...and this was going to be his first job inside?

“We all already have enough money to live the rest of our lives happily.” your hand shot out to Blue’s leg. “You know we don’t *have* to do this…” you tried to reason with him. You knew it was a lost cause, but you couldn’t help but try.

Once Blue had something on his mind there was no way anyone could stop him. Except maybe…

“Mingi?” you whipped your head around to face him, hoping that he could yell some sense into his friend.

“I-...” He seemed to debate in his mind for a while. “If it's what the app told him…” he shrugged “We’ll be fine.” he gave another thin unsure smile.

You sighed. It was worth a shot.

“Okay.”

Blue and Mingi got out of the car and you moved over into the driver's seat, adjusting it for yourself and rolling the window down all the way while they spoke with the other men that had just arrived.

Your boyfriend walked over to the window and pulled you into another cringeworthy kiss.

“I’ll be back in no time baby.” he winked at you. You smiled, looking him up and down before he walked away.

He really was something else. While you didn’t particularly like him much, you never would wish harm on him. Your stomach had already been in knots before you had learned he’d be going in as well. It was almost impossible to handle the feeling that came after.

Mingi next walked over to you, bending down and resting his elbows on the ledge of the open window.

“I’ll look after him.” Mingi smiled. “Won’t take my eyes off him.”

You nodded, “I know you’ll look after him.” of course he will. As much as Blue loved Mingi, Mingi loved him right back.

His eyes narrowed into a different expression, and he started to almost speak but instead shut his lips tightly, as if to completely block any words from slipping out. Mingi pulled out another cigarette from his pack, surprising you and causing you to jump a bit as he boldly just placed it between your lips.

“You never had your second one.” He chuckled

You exhaled a breath you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding in. It almost caused the cigarette to fall from your lips to your lap.

“Oh yeah.” You muttered, the stick between your lips muffling your words, “s’been a while.”

He then smiled with a nod and stood up, patting the top of the car before starting to walk away.

“Mingi!” You yelled out. The unlit cigarette not saved from its fall this time.

He instantly spun back around and raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah y/n?”

He spoke your name so beautifully. So clearly like cool water hitting your throat on a hot day.

You almost forgot what you were going to say, smiling goofily for a moment as a smile grew on his face in return.

“You stay safe too.” you spoke.

He chuckled and nodded, sticking his hands in his hoodie pocket.

“I will, don’t worry.” he winked.

You felt your heart flutter just before it sank. He pulled a gun from his hoodie pocket to show you. Flashing it just for a moment before returning it and leaving his hands into stay.

He smirked and returned to where Blue and the other men were talking.

Mingi never carried a gun…

He hadn’t known this job would be different…

Why the *fuck* did he have a gun?

————-

You waited for far too long. The unlit cigarette sitting under your lap motionless. Just like you.

Your hands were gripped on the steering wheel so tightly your fingers hurt. But it was the only thing distracting you from what you knew what was to come.

Any second the door they all went in would open and you’d need to make sure your foot was on the pedal as fast as you could to get your crew out of there.

It was just taking so long.

Did it really take that long?

The anxiety was getting too much to handle and you remembered the cigarette in your lap.

Your hands were so shakey you could barely bring it to your lips, but it made it there in time.

You went to grab for the lighter in the cup holder and upon your hand only hitting plastic you remembered you’d dropped it on the floor on the passenger seat.

You leaned over to rummage around, not seeing it anywhere and figuring it must’ve gone under the seat you started to go to move it back…

And at that moment the sound of the metal door being swung open echoed out in the alley you were parked in with a loud bang, causing you to jump up and hit your head on the underside of the dashboard.

You quickly say up in a panic.

After that was only the sound of footsteps hitting the pavement as fast as they could.

The passenger side door was flung open and a panicked Mingi hopped inside.

In his arms was a giant duffle bag, and on his hands was…

“Mingi is that blood?” Your jaw hung open.

“Fucking drive y/n.” he hissed in a stern tone you’d never before that day heard from him.

“B-Blue?” You stuttered out your lower lip trembling.

“DRIVE!” he screamed, slamming a hand on the dashboard so loudly that your foot smashed onto the gas without you even meaning to. The car jerked forward and you just kept going.

It seemed like your body had decided from here on out to autopilot.

Everything seemed like it was moving forward faster than it ever had in your life. This city certainly moved fast but the distance between you and wherever Blue was right now was growing faster.

You didn’t seem to be running from anyone so once you got a few blocks over you started going the speed limit and tried your best to blend into traffic in Blue’s flashy car while a bloody Mingi sat wide eyed and silent beside you.

He was trying to take deep breaths to calm himself down but seemed to be struggled to get one out without it getting caught in his throat.

You drove and drove for what felt like an hour, pulling into the driveway of a house a few towns over you’d stayed at a few times with Blue on vacation. He didn’t own it or anything, yet the keys did happen to be on Blue’s keychain. He’d managed to snag himself a print of it the last time you’d stayed there.

For some reason it was the place your body had just brought you to.

And you felt then that it was lucky it had. There were no cars parked out front and all of the lights were turned off. It looked extremely vacant.

You parked and rushed over to Mingi’s side of the car, opening his door frantically.

“Are you hurt?”

He was clutching the duffle bag tightly, lightly knocking his head against it while muttering.

“Mingi!” you spoke quietly but sternly.

He shook his head against the bag. His bloodied fingers that were locked intertwined with each other had now dried and likely smeared blood onto the bag as well.

“Then we gotta get into the house and find something to cover up this car.” You grabbed him by the arm trying to prompt him to get out of the car.

He was reluctant at first but after a few tugs nodded and let you help him out of the car.

You walked him to the door of the house, looking around double checking if you were followed.

It seemed to be in the clear, and the house was fairly secluded, probably a half mile either way before you’d see another house. Yet, with Blue’s very stand out choice of ride, it was still better safe than sorry to find something to cover it up.

That was step two.

Step one was to get Mingi inside.

After missing the keyhole a few times you finally got the door unlocked and Mingi (without your assistance, and despite you trying to reach out to help him) stumbled over to a couch in the first room the entrance led to. He almost fell into it, the duffle bag still clutched tightly in his arms.

“You stay there.” Your voice was scratchy, as if you’d been screaming, had you screamed at some point?

Mingi didn’t respond, eyes held shut and he laid down onto his side.

It seemed like that was him agreeing so you nodded and took to searching the house for some sort of blanket or tarp.

You found a large cover in the bathroom of the home and made your way out to the front lawn with it, glancing back to make sure Mingi was still resting on the couch. He was, exactly how you’d left him.

As you pulled the sheet over the car you noticed a bit of blood on the dashboard where Mingi’s hand had hit.

It was not a sight you’d ever expected to see. It was obviously something that everyone who did the things you did had to consider at some point…

But when it actually happened it made you realize you had never *really* thought through the consequences of what your Crew was doing.

The realness of the danger was a lot different than the rush and thrill of getting away with it. There wasn’t anything sexy about this moment, not like all the other times where the adrenaline had you and Blue ripping each other's clothes off the minute you walked into the door after a job.

Blue...

No. This felt more like being sick, every kind of sick you’d ever felt all at once.

You hurried to finish getting the car covered and sped back into the house.

“Mingi?” you called out to the man still motionless on the couch.

He remained silent, squeezing the bag closer to his chest.

“Mingi where's Blue?” You walked over to him, kneeling down next to him.

He winced at his friend's name, shook his head, and rolled over away from you.

As always, no one tells you anything. Even when it could be life or death.

This time you decided to make a huff. It was immature of you but you weren’t quite in control of your emotions.

You stood up and ripped the duffle bag from his arms, tossing it across the room.

Almost in the same moment, as if to replace the loss of the duffle bag, Mingi’s arm shot out at you. His hand to your waist pulling you down, causing you to lose balance and topple onto the couch on top of him.

He shifted himself to make room for the two of you and brought you in tightly, even tighter than he’d been holding that bag.

Now he started to sob.

You’d never seen Mingi cry, let alone anyone cry with such a raw and rough outpouring of emotion.

His hands now started to scramble across your back, his full body shaking as he sobbed, and your hands running through his hair until the two of you drifted off to an unintentional sleep.

-------

You couldn’t help but notice the way every curve of Mingi’s body was pressed up against you when you woke up a couple hours later.

His pajama pants not leaving much of a barrier between himself and the shorts you were wearing as he shifted his front closer to you.

As much as you wanted to press back into him…

As much as you could…

The (even) bigger situation here set in.

You sat up, almost knocking him off the couch onto the floor.

“Hm?” He mumbled at you.

“Mingi wake up.” you shook his shoulder.

As if he’d for a moment completely forgotten the events of earlier, and only saw what he thought must’ve been a dream. A dream where you had fallen asleep next to him. Maybe a dream he’d had many times, since he smiled fondly, and almost with a hint of familiarity.

That faded all too quickly though as the sleepiness lifted its fog on his brain.

His eyes no longer held any light, it drained instantly and he shot off the couch. Stumbling clumsily back.

“Fuck.” Wide eyed he pulled the gun out of his pocket.

“I’d had that pressed against me this whole time!?” you almost screamed at him.

“The safety is…” He fumbled it over in his hands. “On...now…” he winced.

“Fuck Mingi.” you muttered, standing up and walking over to him. “Please put that thing somewhere...not here.”

He nodded with no hesitation and walked into the kitchen, putting it in one of the drawers.

When he returned he sat on the couch with his hands on his elbows and his mouth pressed firmly into his hands.

“Tell me what happened Mingi.” you sat down next to him, putting a hand on the fabric of his sweater over his bicep, feeling him flex slightly at your touch. “Please” you pleaded.

He nodded and moved his hands, sighing and shaking his head.

“It was a set up...but not for us.” He sucked a deep breath in slightly starting to tremble “ Once we were almost out of there Blue got a text. Not from the client but from the app. The message told him we had an option...If we killed the two solo partners we’d get their share of the money. I-” he paused “I don’t get why but Blue instantly seemed on board he just...lit up.” Mingi waved his hand over his face. “Fuck. Fuck y/n. He wasn’t acting himself I swear.”

He was now pleading to you almost.

“Okay…” you started to play with the hem of your shorts as you prompted him to continue.

“Y/n...he was gonna do it. He...did. Do it..” he cocked his head to the side biting down on his lip and whimpering slightly.

You sucked in. You had known that was coming next. You really had.

In a question of whether Blue would be capable of something like that, (while Mingi seemed to think it was out of character for him) your answer would have always been yes. Yes he could, and yes he did.

“He took my gun out of my hands almost instantly y/n...and it was so quick.” tears now started to pool in his eyes. He cleared his throat and took another breath. “Um...yeah. He shot them. Just...like that.” he blinked a few times.

“Oh…” was all you could manage to reply. It was quiet for a bit until Mingi started muttering something under his breath. He was starting to rock back and forward slightly where he sat.

“So you left him behind?” you asked.

“Ah.” His voice cracked. “I didn’t mean to. Everything was just so...fast.” he muttered, standing up and leaving the room in a hurry.

You pursed your lips together, not following him right away. Sitting with that thought again.

Blue had killed the two other partners. Blue had killed two people.

It wasn’t the kind of feeling that would ever be shaken. Even sixty years from now this memory would be one of the last on your mind.

You let yourself cry a moment. Finally.

You cried for Blue and what he’d done. You cried for the people he’d killed and their loved ones, and those right now expecting them home.

“y/n?” Mingi’s voice called from the other room.

“Not now Mingi.” you choked out, your emotions slowly gaining momentum.

Fluffy orange hair poked around the corner of the room, he was in the kitchen now peeking around into the living room area you sat in.

“Tea?” He wiggled a box he must’ve found in the closet, he was putting on a fake smile, it could’ve been more for himself than you, but it helped.

You nodded, wiping the wetness from your eyes with the back of your hand.

He returned not too much later with two green mugs in his hand, setting them down on a table beside the couch.

Mingi then sat down hard next to you, shaking the couch a bit and chuckling at his clumsiness.

You smiled slightly and reached out for one of the mugs that was on the other side of him.

He caught your arm gently wrapping his fingers around your wrist and holding you for a moment, looking into your eyes with ones filled to the brim with pain.

“Um. The tea is still pretty hot. I wouldn’t” he explained himself, giving you your arm back.

You looked over to the steam rolling off the top of the mug.

This isn’t fun.

Why did you do this?

What was the point of any of this?

Why did you choose this…

You debated screaming out for an escape. You knew the words you could say…

But you weren’t ready yet. Not yet.

And then there it was.

Your reminder and reason for doing this.

Mingi smiled your way. Maybe a bit forced still, but a completely body melting smile.

You instantly rested your head on his shoulder, wishing you could do more than that in this moment. Begging your body to let you do more than just gently rest your head on his shoulder.

Your hand could easily move out to his knee and trail up his leg...

But not yet. As much as you knew it would help the two of you. As much as you were 99% sure right now in this moment you both wanted more than just your head on his shoulder, it wouldn’t be right. Not right now.

Your eyes did flash to the clock hanging on the wall for the first time in a while. It was only 5pm. It seemed like a week had passed since this morning.

You let more seconds pass with your head on Mingi’s shoulder, there wasn’t much else you could do.

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

A few hours later Mingi was cooking you both dinner. There wasn’t much in the cabinets that hadn't expired. No one had been here for a while.

Yet he swore he could whip something up with what he could find.

You’d chuckled and agreed to let him try while you laid out and read magazines on the couch, admiring the bright red toenail polish on your toes and wiggling your feet lost in the moment...forgetting the moment.

Until a loud clatter of pans snapped you out of it.

You jumped off the couch and ran to the kitchen to find Mingi on the floor holding his hand with a pained look on his face.

“Oh my god!” you ran over to him, crouching down and pulling his hand from being held to his chest to where you could see. “You’ve burned yourself. Here…” you stood and started to pull him up by his good arm.

“I’ve got it y/n” he hissed. Standing up on his own and turning the faucet on.

“It didn’t look too bad. It should feel better really soon” you tried to comfort him. A pot of half boiled noodles and water was splattered all over the floor.

“Y/n I’m so sorry…” He muttered.

“It’s just pasta.” You shrugged.

That didn’t seem to be what he was talking about. But he simply just said, “Yeah”

“Let me wrap your hand up at least.” You figured there had to be a first aid kit somewhere in the house.

He nodded and sighed, looking down at his hand and shaking his head.

You’d never seen him so out of sorts. Though who wouldn’t be after what he said he saw.

You wondered how he could’ve burned his hand that badly on a pot that definitely had a long handle.

It hurt to think on that curiosity for too long. You were pretty sure the answer was one you wouldn’t like hearing.

There was some gauze in a bathroom closet thankfully, though not much it seemed enough to wrap his hand.

You walked back out to the kitchen to see it empty. Peeking around the corner to where the living room was you saw Mingi sitting on the couch poking at his burn with his other hand.

“Leave that alone.” You snapped. It startled him, yet when he saw you his face softened and his body seemed to relax into the couch.

“Sorry.” he muttered.

“Here.” You sat down next to him. You didn’t mean to sit so close, but when you sat the couch seemed to slide you close to him, assisting your body’s efforts to be as near as possible to this man.

The side of your leg was now completely pressed against his. It didn’t seem to miss his attention either.

When you looked at his face there was the softest smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. You almost involuntarily gulped at how undeniably sexy his expression was. How completely enchanting sitting this close to him was…

“H-hand.” you mumbled, holding your own hand out.

You felt the soft fabric of his hoodie now brushing against your shoulder as he moved even closer putting his hand palm up in yours.

The burn looked a bit worse than it had earlier, but seemed like it would heal alright on its own. You couldn’t risk taking him to a hospital anyways.

Slowly you took the roll of gauze and while gently holding his hand up you started to carefully wrap it around.

You almost zoned out into your task, making sure that you were doing it just right, diligently keeping your eyes on his hand. Well...until you were almost done and your eyes accidentally wandered up from the burn in the center of his hand to his fingers. It seemed to take your eyes longer than you realized to study them all the way up to the tip. Maybe you were trying to picture the feeling…

You slowly shifted your gaze up to Mingi and realized that his eyes had been locked on your face this entire time. He’d been studying you study his hands, his lips starting to quiver as he watched you purse yours in concentration. It’d almost seemed that he’d found it attractive the way you had been so focused on taking care of him.

Now that you were face to face you were hit with a slight embarrassment for being so close. His face being only inches from your own.

You started to pull back from him, but his lips quickly parted and he let out a small noise in protest.

Time seemed to still.

Maybe it had.

Maybe you were being blessed with a few more seconds to linger on that cute pout on his face.

On the way his hair was still so messy from sleeping earlier. On the way that despite the pain in both of your eyes, despite the hurt that you’d always carry from this day...you wanted nothing more in this moment than him.

Finally.

You leaned forward to him, finally pressing a soft kiss on to his lips. His body completely tensed up in surprise. He held both his hand away from you as if something horrible would happen if he touched you.

Quickly you pulled back, thinking you must’ve misread the moment.

“Oh.” You brought your hand to your lips and tugged at your lower one a bit embarrassed.

“y/n.” Mingi spoke in a pained tone.

Your eyes had dropped down to your lap and you didn’t quite feel like looking back up at him.

“y/n.” this time he whispered. That time was for him, almost like your name would soothe whatever it was he was feeling in this moment.

You jumped when you felt his fingers on your face. He had his good hand now gently tucked under your chin, coaxing your face over to look at him.

“I’m not a good person. I’m no better than…” he seemed to plead this at you, then let go of your chin with a sigh.

It made no sense to you. How could he think he was a bad person. How could he even think to start to compare himself to Blue like that.

You shook your head.

“You could never be like him Mingi. He *killed* people.” you shuddered. “I-” you paused. “I’m sorry I kissed you. You’re going through a lot, we both are.”

His eyes suddenly widened and now both his hands were on your face.

“No!” he almost shouted. “Fuck.”

You were being held now close enough that you could just ever so slightly lean forward and brush your lips against his again.

“I shouldn’t do this.” He whispered, you could feel the soft breath of his voice against your skin.

You closed your eyes for a moment and felt a warm wave wash over you. He was so perfect and beautiful, and he was hurting so badly.

You had no idea what was really going on inside of him. If you did maybe you wouldn’t be doing this. Maybe you would’ve agreed. But, then again, when the morals were put aside, neither of you could deny that not only did you both want this but…

“Mingi please. You have no idea how many years I’ve wanted you, and I know you want me too.” you finally felt the words you’d carried for a long time lift from your chest, they were a weight gone that you’d always thought you’d die with.

He froze again, processing likely. His lips muttered something silently. You figured he was thinking on how he also had been ready to die with the thoughts he’d kept of you. Like you, he had probably decided that he would settle for the small glances and giggles, and the miniscule flirtatious exchanges that Blue had always seemed to let slide.

Neither of you had ever thought anything would come of this.

But, neither of you had ever wanted anything more.

It was Mingi’s turn to put his lips to yours.

All the air in your body seemed to leave as he almost pounced on you, pressing your back to the couch and roughly hooking one of your legs around his waist.

You were swirling with the feelings of arousal and surprise. You felt a throb between your legs. Yes. If you could have anything in the world it would be this.

It would be him.

The way his pillowy lips moved against yours contrasted so starkly in comparison to Blue’s sloppy uncontrolled kisses. Mingi kissed you like he was tasting his favorite food, savouring each moment and letting you melt into his mouth.

You had a hand tangled in his hair, his scruffy orange locks gave you quite a good handful to grip onto and you pulled his head to the side, putting your lips to the soft skin of his neck and parting your lips to suck.

He growled out at the feeling and started to grind himself against you. Through the thin fabric of his pants you could feel the throbbing length of his cock start to grow against your leg.

He continued to hump into you, pressing you into the couch as he did and moving himself so that you could grind yourself against his leg in return.

You gasped out almost instantly when you felt his muscular thighs press into you. You began to reflexively roll your hips against him, hoping to find some relief to the now aching need growing.

When your lips had left his neck, they gifted him with a beautiful purple mark on his skin. You smiled at your artwork and gave it a quick peck.

Mingi chuckled and brought his lips back to yours, giving you some more perfectly placed kisses.

He then winced and let out a hiss. He’d started to move his injured hand down to where your bodies were still moving against each other desperately. In the heat of the moment he’d forgotten his injury. Shaking his head at himself he bit his lower lip and moved himself so that he could get his good hand between your legs.

He pressed two fingers against the outside of your shorts and rubbed a few times, giving you a mischievous smile as he noticed your eyes start to roll back at his touch.

He walked his fingers up to the button of your shorts, not taking long with getting it undone and unzipping them in one firm pull.

Mingi leaned down and nipped at your lower lip causing you to squeak and giggle. His eyes sparkled back down at you,

He then moved himself to the side to get his hand in a better position, have his fingers start to tickle and play at the hem of your panties.

You felt a warm shiver bring goosebumps to the top of your skin. You smiled up at him in amazement at his affect on you.

He also didn’t miss the effect he was having as he started to slide his fingers below that line.

It felt like a lifetime of waiting.

This.

The thing that had made it worth pushing through those jobs. That made you keep building and growing even after everything you’d been through in your life.

Him.

The person who held your heart so tightly when he hadn’t even known it, his eyes that held so many captured memories of you.

Whether it was letting his eyes linger too long on the way smoke would fall from your lips as you’d stand lookout smoking your second cigarette. The first one was always on the way there for the nerves of getting to the job.

You snapped back to the moment when Mingi’s finger pressed firmly on your clit and started to circle.

You moaned out a soft hum and let your head fall back into the couch.

Mingi hummed back a pleasure filled soft groan in a response to your noises, and moved his finger down to gather some of the now dripping wetness from your entrance and bring it back up to your clit, swirling it around in circles coating you in your own wetness.

Your hips bucked up into his hand, but he pressed you back down firmly.

“Stay still baby. Let me.” He ordered, his hand now flat and held heavy to keep you from moving. “Are you gonna stay still?” he started the ever so slightly wiggle his fingers. The small movement causing you to want nothing more to jerk your hips up again, but you obeyed. You wanted nothing more than to please him now that you finally had him.

“Yes!” You desperately gasped out.

Mingi’s eyes were wild and while there were pained memories behind them, in the front, in this moment was lust. You could see glazed over and excited eyes hungrily scanning and making their way from where his hand was in your shorts, and where your lips parted as you moaned for him.

He pushed you further and further towards the high he was taking you to. Taking turns between dipping his fingers into your soaking hole and bringing them back up to flick over your clit at a relentless pace.

“I-I’m close.” You gasped out.

He dropped his forehead to yours, and gave you a few encouraging pecks on the cheek.

“Please.” he moaned, begging to feel you cum under his fingers.

You felt him pick up his pace, his fingers rubbing against you now just where you needed them.

You bit down on your lip and tossed your head back, moaning and uttering out a mix of swears and Mingi’s name.

“Damn…” He whispered, his fingers still on you, now just slowly sliding over your sensitive nub as you twitched under him. He gradually slowed his pace until he was lifting his hand out from your shorts, letting you come down from your orgasm.

You felt pure bliss and happiness. There was nothing in the world besides Song Mingi.

He was now standing up and lifting his hoodie quickly up over his head.

You’d actually never seen him shirtless. You’d always wondered and imagined…

When his shirt would slip up occasionally and you’d catch a glimpse you swore you’d get so light headed you’d end up on the floor.

So this? For him to be standing in front of you, taking his shirt off and almost presenting himself to you with a cocky smirk.

You were lucky you were already laying down.

He tossed his hoodie and the shirt under it off to the side, now standing in front of you in only his pants that hung far too low on his hips.

His tongue darted out quickly to wet his lower lip.

“Yeah?” He looked down at himself then back up to you.

As if he needed to ask. How could you not find him sexy. Every inch of him he’d revealed seemed to be just as effortlessly sexy as the rest of him. You wouldn’t have expected anything less, but that definitely didn’t stop it from taking your breath away.

“Fuck yes.” you nodded in approval, giving him an obvious look up and down.

“Yeah, I thought so.” he smiled as he hopped back on top of you on the couch.

He slipped his hand back into your pants for a moment and rubbed you a little more, collecting some of your wetness on his fingers and bringing it up to your lips.

“Open.” he whispered his command, his eyes were heavy lidded and almost in a trance now staring at your lips with unwavering attention.

You parted them just enough for him to push his two fingers inside. He slid them on your tongue and you closed your lips tightly around them, flicking your tongue along as you took your lips from the base of his fingers up to the tip.

He took a sharp breath in that caught in his throat, and he moved his hips needily against you hoping to find some relief for his very apparent hardness pressed to your center now.

“I want you Mingi. I’ve always wanted you.” You spoke as he sat back on his heels on the couch to pull your shorts and panties off. He held one of your legs up after your clothes had been tossed aside and rested it on his shoulder.

He pressed the gentlest kiss you’d ever felt right above your ankle, then trailed his lips all the way down your leg, making you shudder and tremble at every touch.

“Mingi…” you moaned out when his lips hovered near your still dripping lips between your legs. He didn’t stay there though, he kept moving himself up, pulling up your shirt as he left more kisses on your skin.

Your stomach twitched, getting slightly ticklish at the feeling as he kissed near your sides.

Pulling up the fabric of your shirt further left him now with another barrier still as he reached your bra.

His hands made a quick job of unhooking your bra and fully tossing the rest of your clothes aside. His burn still wrapped but the pain apparently ignored and pushed aside by his want.

He excitedly breathed out a “There.” and dove his head down taking one of your nipples into his mouth and flicking the tip of his tongue.

“Fuck!” You hissed out, your hands shooting to his hair and holding him close to you.

“Sensitive nipples baby?” He pulled his mouth off you just slightly to speak.

“Mmm.” Was your only reply, and you tried to push his head back down onto you, needing to feel him more. He delivered exactly what you wanted with a breathy chuckle, making your nipple back into his mouth, his good hand was on your other breast, now taking that nipple between two fingers and lightly pinching.

You yelped out and squirmed with pleasure under his touch.

“Fuck me already Mingi!” you almost growled, grabbing his hair and pulling his head off of you and facing you.

You didn’t think you could take another second without feeling him inside of you.

His hand left your tits and scurried to the hem of his pants at your order. His eyes were excited and surprised at your intensity, but he seemed to be extremely turned on by it, and started to comply with your request right away.

He seemed to sigh with relief as he pulled his pants down and let his cock spring free. He took himself in his hand and moved a few shallow pumps around the base of his shaft before moving to position himself at your hole.

“I’ve imagined this so many times…” he whispered, pausing and moving the head of his cock up and down against you. Your hips seemed to move up towards him on their own power, hearing that like you he’d imagined this moment over and over was music to your ears.

“Fuck me now Mingiiii” you whined out.

Finally he lowered his head to rest next to yours, burying himself in your neck and burying his cock fully into you in the same motion.

You gasped out at the sudden feeling.

He didn’t wait long before moving. Your walls clenched around him as he picked up his pace and your nails were scraping against his back before you knew it.

You hooked both of your legs around his waist giving him a position to move deeper inside of you. He took what you gave him and started to pound into you at a pace that had you unable to hold back your moans, they had now turned almost to screams of pleasure.

Mingi made his own beautiful noises, grunts and groans that you’d be committing to memory forever.

You wished that this moment could last forever..

But, as he started to roll his hips into you now at the most desperate and careless pace so far, you knew he was close to his finish.

“y/n…” he whined out needily before biting down on your shoulder and thrusting himself into a few more rough times.

You could feel the warmness of his cum filling you up as he stilled. He gasped out a soft “F-fuck” as his cock twitched and emptied every last drop that you were milking out of him, slowly moving your hips while he reveled in the moment of his orgasm.

He pulled out of you and rolled to his side next to you, clutching you tightly and bringing you to his chest. His eyes shut and he was muttering something too quiet to hear against the top of your head.

He looked so peaceful, and happy, like a man who’d never been touched by all the cruel things that this world had to offer. Like a Mingi that you wished could stay with you for the rest of your life.

Like the Mingi you wished that he really was.

The second cigarette was while you stood waiting, it was for the nerves of Mingi’s safety.

Every time that goofy smiling man went into one of the buildings your crew was told to show at, you feared for his life.

You’d never asked him or Blue why they got onto Crimson Rexcruit. It was sort of customary not to ask. They’d never asked you why you joined.

You wouldn’t have minded if they did. It was pretty simple for you. You wanted money, and you didn’t really have many skills, but you craved shiny things.

Blue seemed to fall into the same boat as you, he loved all of the flashy and pretty things that came with the money crime brought in, and all of his talents aligned well with this line of work.

Mingi though you never understood.

Why would such a sweet, well mannered and kind person take up a life of stealing and...whatever else it was he did that you didn’t want to think about when he went into jobs.

You didn’t like to watch in on him, keeping your eyes to the outside, making sure you could tip the crew off if things seemed off or cops were on their way.

That didn’t mean you weren’t curious, curious about the man that Mingi turned into that would get him to force a cashier to hand over their entire store’s safe.

Did he scream? You’d never heard him scream…

Not before today that was.

Did he threaten them?

Did he always bring that gun…

“Mingi?” you asked softly to the man nuzzling his head against you. You reached out to play with a few strands of his hair.

“Yes?” he mumbled into you.

*Ask him why he brought the gun…*

“Where do you think Blue is…”

Mingi’s body tensed up, he stopped nuzzling against you.

“I-” he bit down hard on his lower lip and shut his eyes. “Can’t we just have this moment?”

*of course we can. Please let's stop this and just have this moment*

“No...I need to know Mingi.” your voice spoke.

He slowly sat up, pulling himself back into his pants. You sat up with him, tugging a knit blanket that was hanging from the back of the couch and wrapping yourself in it. It was itchy against your skin, but you’d shivered the moment Mingi’s touch left you.

“Y/n…” His hands were balled into tight fists, you were scared he might break a finger.

*Tell him it's okay. Tell him he doesn’t need to worry about this right now.*

“Please Mingi, tell me what happened...all of it.” your voice spoke sternly.

Mingi’s head snapped right to you, and he let the words just fly out.

“I shot him. He’s dead, I shot him.” his tone was emotionless but his hands were shaking so hard…

*reach out and grab him*

“You...what…” your voice was wavering now.

“I went to grab the gun from him after he shot the two men...I- it happened so fast...we were both screaming...I was telling him to give it to me and somehow we got on the ground…” now he was falling apart, choking on every word. “He had the gun pointed to my fucking head. He had his finger on the fucking trigger and he said ‘They told me I could kill all of you and walk out of here, you owe me your life asshole’ he screamed it and...I wasn’t even thinking.” He buried his hands in his hair and tugged down hard. “Damnit.” he muttered “I turned it on him, then I grabbed it and fucking turned it on him...and just...shot…”

You were like a statue in place, your blood might have even stopped flowing, your heart definitely stopped beating.

That...didn’t sound like Mingi.

Mingi would’ve thrown away the gun.

“Wh-” You trembled, not able to bring out anything more.

“You don’t understand what it's like when you’re in there y/n.” he sucked in a wavering breath, trying to collect himself but speaking in a raspy voice. “It’s like you’re in survival mode...things in your brain work a bit differently...um” he shook his head, “that's not an excuse. Fuck. Fuck” Mingi grabbed a television remote from the table next to him and threw it at the wall angrily, it hit and split into a few pieces, the batteries flying across the other side of the room.

‘ *Hold him. Please. Let me reach out and hold him* ‘

“I can’t even look at you…” your voice muttered.

‘ *no…let me look at him a little longer* ‘

“I feel like I’m gonna be sick…” your voice spoke again.

Everything was spinning and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at anything but your hands in your lap.

‘ *not yet, not yet,* ‘

“Y/n. I’m so...fucking sorry. Dammit he was my best friend. How do you think I feel?” his broken voice rang in your ears, yet you still didn’t look up at him.

A loud clock started to tick in your ears, it thumped louder than your heart was beating in your chest.

‘ *not yet, please not yet,* ‘

If you could do anything to turn back time…

To change things, to make this moment anything but what it was…

‘ *Tell him you love him.* ‘

Louder than everything you’d heard today was the knock on the door, and the voice that yelled out.

“Police! Open up! You’re surrounded!”

You turned to face Mingi in horror, watching as he snapped into action running to the kitchen and grabbing the gun from the drawer he’d stashed it in.

“Mingi wait you don’t have to-” You gasped out, grabbing his arm as he rushed frantically back into the living room with you.

He looked crazed, an opposite man to the one cuddled to your side only moments ago.

*Ask him why he brought the gun*

He nervously fumbled with the safety on the gun and then turned to you.

“Get the fuck in the other room.” He was serious and stern, his eyes were pleading.

‘*Let me stay with him. Please. Please.*’

The voice outside the door yelled out again.

“We’re coming in!” It boomed out in warning.

“I said GO!” Mingi screamed, his whole body shaking with the force of his words.

There was a crash of something hitting the front door.

You had your eyes on Mingi, and he had his wide nervous eyes on the door as he raised his gun, held it out in front of him towards where the noise had come from.

And time stood still.

The world went quiet. All except for a sob that ripped through your throat as you fell to your knees.

“PLEASE!” you screamed out. Finally the voice that had been in your head begging to be let out was speaking. “Mingi I love you!”

He was still frozen, holding the gun out in front of him. In front of him the door was hung in mid air, it had been busted through by the police and you could see the start of a leg that had begun to push its way into the house before everything stopped.

“Let me tell him I love him.” your hands were pressed to the floor grasping at nothing as you sobbed.

A voice echoed in the room.

“You know we can only let you do things that were in your memories.”

“I know...but can’t we try?” you pleaded, staring at the ceiling, not quite sure where to direct your attention.

“No, It's impossible.” it spoke in monotone.

You took one last look at the beautiful troubled man in front of you, studying every last image, photographing his eyes, his lips, his hands, even though they were clutching that gun.

The gun that you will never even at your dying breath be able to figure out why he had on him that day.

You’d hoped to also find a bit of clarity here for that.

But, like it had been all your life, it would stay a mystery to you.

It seemed like you’d only blinked and you were back in a blindingly white room.

The beeping of monitors clicked everywhere around you.

“Hello y/n. Welcome back.” The voice from inside the room spoke to you. It belonged to a man in a white coat who stood over you now.

He reached down to your arm and started to check the chords and tubes you were hooked up to.

Your arm…

You looked down to see the wrinkled and aged skin that had seen many many years after that day, but had never forgotten what it felt like to touch Mingi.

Mingi had died that day, almost seconds after that last moment you saw him. The police had seen the gun in his hands and there was no hesitation.

You had cowered on the ground beside him, holding him as long as you could.. It had taken two officers to pull you off of his body.

“I’m sorry that It didn’t get to be everything you wanted…” The doctor spoke, his hand hovering over a blue button. “Are you still ready?”

Was it everything you wanted?

No...not quite.

But life never really was. That didn’t make the good parts any less enjoyable.

“Yes. I’m ready. I got to see his face one last time.”

The doctor nodded, “You’ve had a hell of a life y/n.”

You felt a warm smile grow on your face and you shut your eyes, relaxing back into your bed.

Mingi’s body melting smile flashed one last time in your mind.

“Yeah, I really have.”

#ateez #ateez x reader #mingi x reader #mingi smut #ateez smut #mingi angst #ateez angst #ateez fanfic #mingi fanfic #mingi x you #ateez x you #mingi

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yukiobeyme · 4 years ago

Note

For the MammoBarb bartender AU!

The bar is a joint project, owned by both Diavolo and Lucifer. And Barbatos is their best (and only) bartender. His skill’s are absolutely top notch, and none can compare. But he is also only one person, and business has been booming.

Diavolo starts to worry for his friend, that the stress of it all might be too much. But Barbatos insists that the tips alone are well worth all of the effort. Still, he can’t help but tell Lucifer about his concerns. And Lucifer agrees.

Mammon is a troublemaker, in every sense of the word. He often gets into fights, and gambles away most of his money. (His prized possession is his motorcycle Goldie!) And one day, after bailing him out of jail yet again, Lucifer has had enough.

He tells his brother that he’s going to be a bartender at his bar until he can pay off all of the money that he owes, to both Lucifer and the debt collectors. It seems like an impossible task, but if Mammon could get tipped as well as Barbatos...

It’s up to Barbatos to get Mammon, his new coworker, into tip top shape. And Barbatos isn’t easily pleased. When he first meets Mammon, he definitely isn’t impressed. Yet despite that, he’s determined to turn him into the perfect bartender.

And maybe they start hanging out after his lessons. Maybe sometimes Mammon drags him out on that motorcycle (which Barbatos insists is a death trap). It’s only natural for them to drink together, and to chat. It’s all in the name of teaching him... right?

And if Mammon becomes a waiter at times, and walks around the bar wearing bunny ears and a tail, he definitely isn’t starting. (Despite what Lucifer and Diavolo may think).

~ s8ncake 💚🎂

@s8ncake you spoil me so much! (and I love it) looking back now I guess my hand spilled I hope you enjoy and feel a little spoiled too?

Mammon is known for his bar fights, loud mouth, and Goldie. He has a record as long as he is tall, starting from age 18. Though if his record was wiped when he turned 18 it would probably be twice as long. Most of the stuff is minor, usually just consequences from bar fights or his motorcycle being too loud, but it’s enough that he has spent a night or two. The cops, Simeon and Solomon, are use to Mammon’s antics and they usually let stuff slide or just give a warning. Though Simeon will always goes to Lucifer to let him know when Mammon gets in trouble. I also imagine him having tattoos, especially hand tattoos.

Mammon is now an apprentice bartender for Barbatos to pay off debts. And honestly Barbatos is equal pissed and nervous. Barbatos knows of Mammon through stories from Lucifer and Diavolo but also from other bartenders. None of those bartender stories are good, they paint a picture of a man that is rowdy, loud, and disrespectful to anybody who has authority. Though Barbatos decides he will raise to the challenge and sets to work.

Mammon is clumsy and dropped bottles while doing drinks, which hurts Barbatos’ soul. But the sheepish look Barbatos gets makes him forgive him instantly. Mammon is in awe whenever Barbatos does a trick and Barbatos just rolls his eyes.

Mammon gets about two weeks of intense training from Barbatos before his first real shift. Barbatos might not have been impressed when he first saw Mammon but Barbatos can’t lie, he cleans up nicely. A black button up with his sleeves rolled up, his tattoos on full display and tight black jeans. Mammon might not be able to do all the tricks Barbatos can, but he definitely is a hit with the ladies and the men (and the non-binary folks). Barbatos is quite impressed by the end of the shift, Mammon didn’t break anything and he made all the drinks correctly, though he had to ask Barbatos twice what a drink was but Barbatos let it slide.

They know only have intense lessons twice a week and just meet up two hours before the bar opens where Barbatos tests his knowledge and teaches his some simplier tricks. And on Sundays after the last person leaves at 3am and they are closed after three full swing days, they each make a drink and toast to surviving the weekend crowd. Mammon goes for a simple rum and coke and Barbatos a gin and tonic. The chat about everything, or that’s what Barbatos thought. He just didn’t think there was much to Mammon but he was wrong.

It was about month of Mammon being a bartender before he got into his first fight. Barbatos was shocked and surprised to watch Mammon get out from behind the bar before picking a fight with a patron. Barbatos is furious as he watches the patron getting kicked out and Mammon being dragged to the back by Lucifer, Diavolo following close behind. What surprised Barbatos the most though, when he hears that the person Mammon just beat the crap out of was a creep and making unwanted moves on someone and even talk about a tampered drink. It leaves Barbatos wondering and he makes a note to ask Mammon about it.

Barbatos leaves the bar unattended to check on Mammob, bringing ice from the cooler. Mammon is in a heat debate with Lucifer, telling Lucifer exactly what Barbatos heard from the patrons. Mammon was defending someone. Barbatos doesn’t know what caused him to say something but he speaks up and defends Mammon and thrusts the bag of ice for him. Gesturing to Mammon’s brusing face. Lucifer freezes, not knowing Barbatos was there and shocked to have someone stuck up for Mammon. Lucifer leaves with reminding Mammon, that he can’t throw the first punch. Barbatos waits half a second before realizing he has left the bar unattended, so he ducks out the room and makes his way back to the bar. Mammon is still a hot topic, most wondering if he will come back out or not. Barbatos tells them he has the rest of the night off but would be back the next night.

That night when they finally close, Barbatos finds Mammon standing awkwardly at the bar before making his way to clean up. They work in silence before Barbatos finally asks, if that’s how Mammon usually gets into fights. Mammon seems to light up in anger and before Barbatos knows it Mammon is talking about how people don’t pay attention. That it takes one second and something bad can happen. Or how it takes one second and a creep in trying to make a move on an unwilling person. He hates it and won’t stand for it, and if he doesn’t do something no one will, bystander effect. Barbatos feels something shift inside him, he realizes he growing a soft spot for Mammon. Mammon didn’t fight because he was drunk, he was fighting to protect. Barbatos makes sure he doesn’t condemn Mammon’s choice. Because Barbatos has been a bartender long enough he knows that. Lucifer’s words from earlier makes sense, Mammon throws the first punch which is what gets him in trouble. Then why Simeon and Solomon seem okay with just giving him warnings and not making it so charges aren’t pressed. Mammon is trying to do good, justice.

After the first fight, Barbatos makes a code system with Mammon. Let him know through drinks what’s going on. Giving Barbatos a heads up what’s happening in his bar and let’s him contact security. Which successfully keeps Mammon out of trouble. While Mammon seem to fume a bit and needs to walk away for a few moments, he always comes back without having to throw a punch and each time Barbatos has pride flowing through his veins.

The longer Mammon works at the bar, the more Barbatos learns about him. Mammon isn’t shallow and easy to read, he is an ocean and complex. Barbatos finds himself wanting to understand. Something Barbatos knows is Mammon has some angry issues and some days are harder than others. Those days Barbatos finds Mammon at the bar before their lesson, in old clothes and messing with his motorcycle out front. Barbatos has learned to not talk to Mammon but just sit near him and watch him work. It’s therapeutic in its own way, Mammon knows his way around this death machine and it’s attractive. Mammon moves so fluidly and eventually Mammon will start narrating what he doing, whether it’s just checking fluids, readjusting his seat or handles, or just purely messing with the engine. Then about thirty minutes before their lesson Mammon will head in and try and clean up the best he can. He mostly grease free and Barbatos says as long as his hands and arms are clean, he can mix.

It’s on a summer day when Mammon is working on his motorcycle and they are sitting in silence, when Mammon mentions he made enough money to pay off all his debts. So he is free to leave, but he is holding off until he decides what he wants to do. Barbatos felt his heart dropped, he wasn’t ready for Mammon to leave yet. He doesn’t want Mammon to leave, he forgot it was a temporary employment. Barbatos tries to shove away all his emotions. Barbatos is unusually quiet that night and Mammon notices and doesn’t know what to think of it.

After two weeks, Mammon breaks the news to Barbatos that he won’t be bartending with him... full time anymore. At first Barbatos is heart broken but then it hits him, full time? Mammon tells him, he going to be helping Beel with the kitchen being a waiter. He even grumbles about having to wear the stupid bunny outfit. Mammon tells Barbatos he hopes he doesn’t mind, but tells him he still willing to help during the busy hours.

The first time Barbatos sees Mammon wearing bunny ears and a tail, he looking respectfully. When Diavolo and Lucifer come to watch, grab a drink and catch up with patrons. They make a comment about how Barbatos seems distracted by something. Which is by far ridiculous. Barbatos isn’t staring, and he sure isn’t staring hard at the white tail that matches Mammon’s hair color perfectly. At some point though, Mammon notices and definitely starts throwing winks and exaggerating bending over for Barbatos, which leaves him hot and bother and flushed.

The patrons catch on to the show and while some are disappointed the great Bartender and the hot assistant are not only taken but taken by each other. Which Mammon never denies and only fuels that rumor through a red face, while Barbatos is barely holding composure. Though when Lucifer and Diavolo catch on, Mammon completely denies everything, which only makes him seem more quilty in their eyes. And on the nights they flirt the most, if there is an increase in tips, they don’t speak about it.

Mammon asks Barbatos if he wants to ride on his motorcycle with him and Barbatos instantly says no. It takes another month before he says maybe and by the second month he says yes. At this point, they are completely dancing around each other. Awkward pauses and staring at each other’s lips, brushing fingers, and blushing and avoiding other eyes. Barbatos hates he agreed to go on the death trap, but it’s their first day off in a while and he doesn’t want to be away from Mammon. Barbatos makes it known and Mammon flashes him a dangerous smile and tells him to hold on.

Barbatos squeezes the life out of Mammon, brushed flush against his back and tries to hide his face in Mammon’s neck. After what feels like forever, Mammon tells Barbatos they have arrived. It’s to a cliff side that over looks city and it’s dark now so there are city lights. Before Barbatos can say anything, Mammon pulls him close and clashes their lips together. It’s a messy first kiss, too much teeth and their noses kept getting in the way. They pulled away flushed, swollen lips, and panting. The second kiss Barbatos leads and isnt as urgent but expresses the same amount of emotion.

Now the bar is more lively and fun, and if Lucifer or Diavolo had to pinpoint why, it was because it seemed a strict and uptight bartender fell for a no good troublemaker. Though they can’t say they are too happy when those two start work with the outfits already askew or if during the night they both disappear for a few moments. Though Barbatos says Mammon is still a trouble maker, just in a very different way.

#long post #super long post #I world built way too much #like i should have just written the damn fic #yuki rambles #yuki writes #mammobarb #obey me mammom #mammon obey me #barbatos obey me #obey me barbatos #s8ncake i love you

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 5 years ago

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That Be Some Good Buttercream

Summary- Steve and Bucky get your help in replicating a howling commando days battle using Christmas baking fun. But... Does anything ever quite work out the way it should? Set in the same characters I used in Night In, Looking Pretty Fly and Popping Pez and Mismatched Socks. Written for @official-and-unstable-satan 300 Follower Celebration Challenge. She still has many prompts, check it out. Prompts in italiacs. No warnings, all fluffy.

Word Count- 1.6k

A/N- so proud of your accomplishments babes, you are an amazing writer and I love getting lost in your stories and listening to your ideas. I know your just gonna keep going up from here. Love you always babygirl 💚😈💚😈💚😈💚

“Bucky, they came around from the south end”

“No they did not. I remember Steve, I was there.”

“Yea, and so was I”

You and Sam had been listening to the two super soldiers carry on at the oversized table in the compounds kitchen dining area for a good hour before you readjusted the volume on the tv once more. Sam, half laying over half the couch remained scrolling on his phone, remarking.

“Aint gonna do you no good, they just get louder.”

You sigh and hit the off button, he was right. Might as well go see what these two were up to anyways. Pushing yourself off the couch, Sam promptly stretched his legs out onto where you were sitting, making himself comfterable. “See you on the other side Kid!” He joked, settling into watching youtube.

Wandering in, you saw the two men bent over large map, Steve with pencil in hand drawing arrows to discern where they started from, stretching it across what looked like a military base. Bucky shook his head.

“No no no, Punk, I wasnt up there, I was down here”

“Bucky, I had you up on the highest point, it just looks weird on paper.”

“You know what, this is pointless.” You could see Bucky getting aggitated with there project, pushing himself away from the table. “We need like... a 3D model to get this right.”

Steve to straightened up, his arms folding as he looked down at the heavily marked paper. “Well... Tony does have some...” You interrupt in this time, moving over to the table and taking a peek at what they were doing.

“You know, I have an idea of how to make you two a 3D model.” Both the men quirked brows, curious as to what you had in mind. "Givingerbread reanatcment.”

You expected a rebuttal, a laugh, anything, since you were joking. But the two of them actually looked thoughtful, glancing at each other. “It would be easier then trying to draw it out” Steve mentioned. “And easier then trying to get Tony to set up the AI model for us.”

“Plus we get some fucking cookies... Im in.” Bucky grinned, obviously pleased in the options of snacks. What started as a joke from you became a very serious matter as the two Soldiers dragged you into the kitchen. The two of them looking at you expectedly.

“I was just joking guys, Im not making you a hydra replica gingerbread base. You know how much shit that would take.” At this point you backtracking a bit, wishing the words hadnt fallen out of your mouth so damn easily cause you thought is was funny.

“Nonsense, you wont be doing all of it. Were going to help.” Steves already moving to wash his hands as Bucky is digging through a drawer and slipping on a god damn “Kiss the Cook” apron, he found in a drawer, ties it swiftly around his back and rolls up his sleeves.

“You know you always wanted to boss us around Doll.” Bucky smirks, wiggling brows in a teasing manner. “You finally get your chance.”

You look between the two men, the two of them nodding in encouragement, Steve composed as ever, waiting for You to explain how to start, and Bucky well he was opening drawers, pulling out random stuff that he thought you might use. He held up a spatula with a smirk, slapping the utinsel against his palm. “How about we get this train moving kids.”

Relenting, you turn to your phone for a recipe. “Okay fine, since you all insist. We need flour, sugar, eggs, ginger, cinnamon....” While your listing, both men are scrambling to find everything, and piling it on the counter, yourself you bring out some bowls, cookie cutters, lets face it. You needed the actual men to decorate like howling commandos. Turning on the oven to get it preheated, you search for decorations. “Steve, store run? We gotta make this accurate you know, and Buckys all dressed up for a day baking. Hate to send him." You just kinda motion lver Buckys getup, the kiss the cook stretched over his chest, the apron a size to small for him really.

Your already grabbing paper and jotting down a detailed list of food coloring, frosting, candies and such. Steve snatched the list when you held it out, he had a general idea of it all and nodded. "Dont hesitate to put Bucky to work. He just pretends to be all intimidating."

You roll your eyes and back in the kitchen theres a "Steve your a dick" retort from Bucky whos looking over the mess of ingredients piled on the counter. Steve, seemingly joyful as he grabbed keys and left, you suspect you might not see him at least another hour or two. No worries, you had the other super soldier on hand.

Heading back in you hand Bucky a bowl and eggs. "Start cracking, separating yolk from white, and no shells." You cant help but from watching him, looking a bit like a lost child, before he he starts to crack eggs and inspect for shells. You watch from the corner of your eye as you put together the dry ingredients, and start mesuring out the molasses, talking him through the rest of the buttercream frosting ingredients.

Dipping your finger in his finished product, you lick the tip of your finger, smirking at his widened eyes. Yea Steve, hes very intimidating. You maybe took a bit to much pleasure in teasing Bucky on occasion. "Mmmhh my very favorite part.... "

He cleared his throat and looked away, it might be a bit mean, but he would give it back later, this was a dance the two of you played. "Okay, what now?" He said a bit gruff and you grab your rolling pin, holding it to him.

Eyeing it a moment, his brow arched. "Ya want me to roll the dough?"

"Yea Buck, nice and thin, since you two want to make all these outer buildings as well." Pointing to Steve's sketching, And you reached in the dough and piled it on the counter on front of Bucky. "And Steve said to put you to work."

"I notice you gave Steve the easy job." He muttered as he started to flatten the dough.

"I knew you were more capable."

Bucky couldn't hide the grin at the compliment, and afterwards you both measured, cut and got the cookie sheets in the oven. Stealing part of the couch back from Sam and watching trash tv till the oven beeped. Bucky vaulted over the couch, head back into the kitchen and pulled them out of the oven.

"Are they firm?" You ask, peeking at them, a light brush of your fingers against them. The room smelled like bake gingerbread and smooth sugar. Tempting delectables to say the least.

"Yup, now what?"

"Cool and mantle your buildings." You say as You slide them off onto wire racks. "Go get the frosting, and I will show you." Already he was rummaging in the fridge to retrieve it. Peeling off the plastic cling, you pick up one of the cooler pieces and edged it with icing. Folding two pieces together. "Easy as that. You try."

Bucky took it so seriously, the tip of his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he piped that icing. His brows furrowed together in a dip right at the center. You bite back a grin and get a large dollop of icing on your finger and flick it at the man. Landing right in his face. He drops his cookie in surprise and blinks though the icing. "Fucken hell, Y/N! Whats that for?" Wiping it off, he flicks it back at you and you squeal getting hit.

That's war!

"Oh its on Barnes" smirking as you grab a cookie and crumble it, shooting it at him. Cookies fly, icing it flung, flour, and sugar is used to blind one another, you two ducked around the table, screaming and yelling insults playfully.

Bucky tried using the hose at the kitchen sink to spray you, in which you ducked and rolled right into him, the two of you collapsing in a heap on the floor among all your hard work, broken and scattered. Steve stood in the doorway, arms laden with two paper bags, his jaw hanging open at the mess. Bucky pokes you to get your attention and the two of you sit up, covered. Head to toe in frosting, flour and cookies.

"I was just gone an hour..."

"Its a long time to be left unsupervised." You shrug as you smear some frosting off your shirt and lick it off your finger, Bucky helped himself to your shirt frosting to since he had thrown half the bowl on you.

"Oh damn, thats good!" He grins.

"What about this is good?! You mean your gingerbread murder scene?!" Steve toed a dead gingerbread man with the tip of his shoe.

Bucky looked around and glared at his friend. "IT WAS HISTORICALLY ACCURATE" His voice raided to defend the mess and you promptly stuff a cookie in his mouth to shut him up.

"Come on Steve. Did the Hydra base not look like this after you two and the howling commandos were done?" You throw a cookie at him which bounced off his chest. "Eat a cookie, you feel better" next to you Bucky continued eating broken gingerbread men, grinning at his friend and nodding.

"Best damn cookies besides your mama's!" Bucky added between mouthfuls

"I just... Pick this up you two before tony throws a fit." Turning with the bags of candy he bought, passing Sam, he ditched them on the man still scrolling youtube

"You couldn't watch them for two seconds Sam?"

"And break up that little love fest? Puh-lease" Sam grinned at Steve and dug into the paper bags looking through the snacks, pulling out twizzlers.

"SCORE!"

@what-is-your-plan-today @p8tn0lish @kitkatd7 @stuckonjbbarnes @sebbbystaaan @kimisama1989 @simsadventures @that-damn-girl @imanuglywombat @jtargaryen18 @stardancerluv @princess-evans-addict

#satanoutofcontext #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #steve rogers #sam wilson #mcufam #fluffy #writing challenge #sweater writes #amber writes

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popculturebuffet · 4 years ago

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Darkwing Duck Reviews: Tiff of the Titans

Uh-Oh, Gizmoduck Comes to town! In the first of a series of reviews building up to Just Us Justice Ducks, the dopey, arrogant, anti-charasmatic, national embarrassment heads to St. Canard to guard a super weapon from F.O.W.L. Naturally, he ends up being more of a problem for our hero than the actual bad guys. Also a look at Tad Stone’s claims the series isn’t in the same universe as Ducktales. Full review and recap commissioned by @weirdkev27 under the cut

This review, much like Death, Taxes and Thanos, was inevitable. I’d been planning to watch and review the first appearances of each of the justice ducks and fearsome five as my next step in watching Darkwing duck anyway, and while I’ve already got one member’s appearance in the wings anyway, I’ll get to that tomorrow or Saturday just in time for Halloween, hint hint, Kev pushed this one into the queue with a commission and I was happy to take the side trip to see just what the Darkwing version of Gizmoduck and Steelbeak, two of my favorites in the reboot, were like originally. So welcome folks to the build to the greatest superhero team made up of ducks of all time, let’s get quackin.

We open, here in Duckburg, where the Eggmen are breaking in. Sadly they do not have the master plan, but they are here to steel the Comarant, a super powerful land, sea and air device the military is storing there. They instead find Gizmoduck! Who makes a good first impression, being a hoaky superman parody in iron man’s costume in this continuity, but it’s a nice way to contrast to Darkwing’s batman parody with a touch of Sandman.. the pulp one not the neil gaiman one. Sadly he doesn’t have a cool gas mask but the Darkwing Duck costume is iconic without it.

Point is the eggmen are easily repelled, though they do get away by blasting Gizmo with a tank. The General in charge is thankful for Gizmoduck’s help, but notes the Comarant will be heading to St. Canard soon for a demonstration at the big air show, and asks that Giz go over and protect it, maybe even work with Darkwing to protect it. Though Gizmo shoots that down, and not only insults Darkwing but says he’s not sure if he’s good or bad. While the latter comment did sour me on the guy.. research bears out Darkwing has been framed once or twice, and my own experience with the pilot saw him you know breaking out of jail and basically clamming superheroes are above the law, so I COULD get why someone wouldn’t trust him, even if Giz’s attitude about it still isn’t great. So fenton quick changes behind a sign and heads off to see his old buddy Launchpad. A quick aside before we get going this episode doesn’t so much torch Tad Stone’s retroactive claim this isn’t the same universe as Ducktales, as burn it to ashes, take a whiz on those ashes and send each separate ash on a seperate probe to the farthest reaches of space. This episode not only has a cameo by Scrooge on a billboard.. but it’s one for DUCKBURG. Where Gizmoduck is said to be from. He also knows launchpad well, and vice versa, and outright mentions McDuck Manor. the episode couldn’t be saying “this is the same universe as ducktales’ harder if Scrooge himself showed up and started ranting about a Sea Monster eating his ice cream. I do like and respect Tad Stones, but I will never like or respect this claim of his and even if HE had that idea in his head during production of the show, it’s very clear everyone else including Disney who greenlit the Darkwing Duck comics explicitly connecting the two universes, felt it was a shared universe, and there’s really no reason they can’t coexist.

If it’s because “Well launchpad wouldn’t leave scrooge”.. besides the fact Scrooge tried to fire him MULTIPLE times, it’s not farfetched Scrooge would put him in charge of a hangar both because he trusts him.. and to get rid of him since he doesn’t like Launchpad very much. Plus Donald has to come back from his tour of duty sometime and likely could easily do Launchpad’s job as pilot, as he did in the source material. My point is there’s tons of ways to write the man out easily, and he could just as easily be doing both jobs like in the reboot. This feels like a weird, unnecessary retcon no one wanted and everyone just politely ignores, like the creators of Doug saying he and Patti didn’t end up together after High School. Which even then makes more sense than this claim, since at least there I get the creators not thinking a high school romance would last forever. That’s fair.. it’s just not something fans really wanted to hear after spending two separate series and a movie getting them together. It would be like if Girl Meets World had revealed Cory and Topanga had divorced. Yes it’d be possible since they’d broken up twice over the course of the series, but no one wanted that, why would you do that. I’m getting off topic, the point is a few breakups aside Doug and Patti clearly married eventually, and Darkwing Duck and Ducktales are in the same universe. Sometimes you just have to ignore Word of God for your own sanity.

Back at the actual episode we cut to Steelbeak’s Bowling Alley Hideout... and I do love a job that allows me to say things like that. But in a really fantastic bit Steelbeak is bowling his minions over as punishment for failure.. even though they have a valid reason but eh he’s the bad guy and he has to get his bowling average up for FOWL’s bowling team somehow. Their insurance covers evil punishment related accidents anyways, they’ll be fine.

But yeah let’s talk about Steelbeak for a second. I honestly hadn’t seen any of the original version so I was curious.. and he’s really damn awesome. Rob Paulsen always does a great job though and is always a pleasure, but he really does a good job here and with the contrast in him: He’d seem like a dumb thug, what with his gangster accent and general cockiness and swagger.. but he backs it up with great combat and even greater planning. He’s a schemer, a fighter and damn if he isn’t fun to watch. It also makes me love the reboot version even more. While I already loved him for being played by Jason Mantzokus, being enjoyably dim, while also still enough of a threat to be freaking cool, it’s even cooler knowing he’s still fundamentally the same character. Much like Drake he’s simply been tweaked a bit. For drake it was softening the edges since Ducktales isn’t as broad a show, and neither will the darkwing reboot i’m betting, so his ego and selfishness is sanded down considerably. For Steelbeak it’s giving him an actual origin: Instead of starting at the top of FOWL, he’s starting as a very competent but very wet behind the ears and full of himself agent, working his way up to becoming justifably full of himself like the original show. He has the same swagger and badassery, he’s just not a master planner yet and he’ll get there. Like many of the reboot characters, he’s simply an already great character given some extra depth and rounding out. I love both and can’t wait to see him again next ep and hopefully he’ll show up in the Darkwing reboot so they can go for round 2.

So with that out of the way, Darkwing naturally interrupts, and cleans house with his gas gun, forcing Steelbeak and his crew to literally go underground into the sewers. This successfully fools drake, and Steelbeak bemoans how both Darkwing and Gizmoduck have been thwarting his plans.. until he gets a great idea; pit them against each other so he can pilfer the comerant while their too busy fighting. It’s a classic supervillain tactic, and one that works perfectly because one of them’s an egotist and a dick and the other is also that but with more style and likeability. Back at Drake’s place, Gosalyn and Honker are watching a horror movie they clearly aren’t supposed to till Drake and launchpad come back in via their easy chairs flipping them in from Darkwing Tower which is just.. really cool. I like it. I also like that much like the Shakespeare bust in Wayne Manor, Darkwing has his own neat statue to provide acess to his lair... a tiny bronze statue of Basil from the Great Mouse Detective.. I REALLY need to fucking watch that film but it’s a nice nod. But yeah Launchpad brought them back because he feels drake could use a break while Drake refuses to stop because crime never stops and he doesn’t have time for it and your usual self destructive bollocks. It’s interrupted by a knock at the door?

It’s Fenton! Whose stopped in to see his old buddy launchpad, who is happy to see his old friend and the two catch up, though Drake dosen’t like the interuption because Classic Drake is kind of a grumpus. Fenton naturally is here because Gizmoduck is but says he’s doing a job for the military.. which makes no sense but given Drake doesn’t know what he does and Launchpad dares to be stupid, if not nearly as stupid as his reboot version, no one questions it. When Fenton says he needs to find a hotel Launchpad, being Launchpad, invites him to stay and while Fenton watches the movie with the kids, Drake wants him gone because you know he has a secret identity to keep and a case to work on and they don’t know if they can trust him with it. It’s fair.. but since this is Drake he almost handles it with the subtly of a howitzer. But before he can try to literally throw Fenton out on his ass, a news report comes on about an attack at a local theater and both head off to take care of it.. we also get a nice moment where both react to it with the same words at the same time. Fenton.. is actually really likeable. He’s a bit awkward, more in that he sort of barges in and makes himself comfy.. but it’s very easy to see from this and the one Ducktales episode of his i’ve seen where the utterly marvelous reboot version gets some traits from: his nervousness, his pluckness, his lack of thinking things through ocasionally when he’s not overthinking them. Fenton is charming. The issue is once he switches on the costume he goes from utterly charming to punchable REALLL quick. I’ll explain my problems with his alter ego in a sec.

At the theater Steelbeak fakes it to look like Darkwing’s doing the bombing, if half haphazardly and leaves Darkwing with the bomb so when Gizmo shows up he thinks he’s responsible. Darkwing naturally says it wasn’t him, but Gizmo dosen’t buy it and asks if he’s so good how come he wears a mask... says the guy in a helmeted visor’s whose only defense when that’s pointed out is it came with the suit. Which yes is a joke.. but it fails to land and instead of being funny just makes Gizmo look like a hypocritical dick whose assuming someone is evil based on flimsy evidence, and what’s very obviously a setup. it makes him come off as the biggest dumbass alive instead of this world’s superman and that is annoying. More ranting about him in a minute. We do end up getting an incredibly funny bit where the two end up arguing over who gets to defuse a bomb, with both wrestling over it till Gizmoduck takes care of it and both fall into the theater. Gizmoduck tries to arrest Darkwing who ignores him and runs off. The next day the Mallard family, including Honker naturally, watches Gizmoduck get a parade, a key to the city and other good stuff on the news while Drake sulks before turning it off. And yeah i’ve waited long enough let’s talk about this version of Gizmoduck and why he does not work. I get in theory he’s supposed to be “The Cape”, minus the cape: The big cheese that everyone looks up to and loves to Darkwing’s dark avenger of the night, a parody of that whose also really dumb. The issue is two fold. The first is .. the classic archtypical cape type chracter has been parodied to hell and back by 2020. He’s been a monster, an asshole and as with here an idiot. And even for then a superman parody, if not in apperance or powers but in treatment, whose really dumb wasn’t very new.

And you CAN parody a big silver age type hero: Justice League International did so well without being too overt, having most of the team either annoyed or actively hostile to Shazam/Captain Marvel. But it was done well there because well.. billy’s a very corny very earnest and likeable kid in an adult’s body. To us he’s charming and loveable. But to a bunch of actual adults he’d be offputting at best and annoying at worst. While some have been annoyed at how he was handled, I a fan of both JLI and Shazam liked it and thought it was an interesting take. Another REALLY good and REALLY hilarious take on this is from fellow superhero action comedy Danny Phantom, one of my favorites and one I need to revisit. One episode had Danny split himself in two so he could crimefight and have fun with his friends resulting in one self whose a burnt out slacker, and another whose an over the top crimefighter who says things like “you Felonious fiend!” And “This looks like a job for the vacuum cleaner!”. It’s a damn good episode. My point is it’s been better done before and since.

What doesn’t help is the episode tries to paint it as equal, since Darkwing’s problem in part is Gizmoduck stealing his thunder.. but it doesn’t work. Darkwing is a fully fleshed out character we know and love who despite his huge ego and rampant jackassery, is a decent person whose fought hard for St. Canard, loves his daughter and most damingly... is entertainingly sickish. Gizmoduck’s dickery just makes him come off less likeable and incredibly dense, while Darkwing’s is part of his charm and, along with his ego, has backfired enough to balance it out. Gizmo just doesn’t get comeuppance for his behavior, and instead gets rewarded with a parade, a key to the city, cheerleaders and Gosalyn looking up to him just for having powers in his gadgets. And really his methods aren’t that different from dark wing: While Darkwing is secretive, a loner and uses gadgets.. Gizmoduck’s suit is basically one BIG gadget, and he refuses to see. And I get that’s probably the joke but it just. doesn’t. LAND. It just makes him insufferable. And as far as I can tell in the original show he wasn’t: he was an awkward dork we root for like in the reboot, not a gloryhogging jackass whose squandered his good will long before he gets Darkwing isn’t evil and tries working with him to the point I don’t care by the time that happens: He’s already been so obnoxious it dosen’t make up for it. Maybe later appearances are better but he’s just a chore to watch in costume here. And that’s WITHOUT comparing him to the 2017 version, one of my favorites there, one of the best animated superheroes i’ve seen in a long time, and a toughly likeable character who struggles due to his superhero identity but took it up for exactly the right reasons and wants to help people. Darkwing Gizmoduck thinks he’s the cape and an inspiration when a good guy when he’s worse than the guy he hates at times. Reboot Gizmo is an honest, decent guy who simply wants to help people and use the gizmotech as a way to do that, to help change the world for the better and save the helpless, and only clashes with Darkwing due to his ego and lack of understanding that Gizmoduck and him really aren’t that different. Finally if THIS is why Tad Stones wants them to be different universes, because this Fenton is different from the Ducktales one in personality.. then that’s on HIM. That’s on him for writing this version poorly or letting him get written so poorly and not on the fans who had no reason not to connect a dot. God this character was disappointing and hopefully when I watch more of him at work in Ducktales, he isn’t this obnoxious, nor will he hopefully be in his sequel episodes. Thankfully moving on Darkwing gets to work, because you know he has experience, and finds Steelbeak trying to pilfer the cormorant but Captain Clueless interrupts and tries to arrest him. The two then finally fight and while it’s sadly short, it’s a fun clash and I genuinely hope the reboot has it’s own fight with them, as given how damn good they are at fight scenes, it’s bound to be even more awesome. But Steelbeak gets away, and uses the comarant’s secret weapon.. a giant fake egg that drops a giant pile of yolk to drown them. Gizmo finally realizes he’s been fighting the wrong guy but our hero's are now running out of time. Darkwing , being the actually capable one here, has Gizmo uses his propeller to beat the eggs and the two head off.. though after a funny bit where Gizmo breaks the Ratcatcher’s sidecar Darkwing lets him use his spare tier, which is huge and likely intended for the main vehicle. Good stuff. The two get after Steelbeak and while Gizmo makes me pray for death but death won’t come we get a fun battle with Steelbeak including Steelbeak using his beak to bite down and destroy the gas gun. It’s a damn fun bit I must say. But eventually the good guys win, disable the comarant and Darkwing beats Steelbeak. The day is save, FOWL is foiled, our heroes are on shaky but better terms, and Drake and Fenton depart on good if equally shaky terms, before arguing about which of them is better. And we’re out. Final Thoughts: This.. was a disappointingly mixed bag. Gizmoduck REALLY drug down what was otherwise a good episode with a great concept: Bringing in a hero whose stronger and more popular than Darkwing.. but mostly uses it to make Darkwing look good, which he didn’t need, and make Gizmoduck look REALLY bad, intentionally or otherwise. Steelbeak is a delight and his plan, and the egg trap, are really good, and as mentioned there are enough good set pieces to prevent this from being a terrible episode.. but as an old friend says for me time and time again...

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#darkwing duck #drake mallard #gizmoduck #fenton crackshell #fenton crackshell cabrera #launchpad mcquack #steelbeak #gosalyn mallard #honker #tiff of the titans #tad stone

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ragewerthers · 4 years ago

Text

Autumnal

Summary: All Prompto wanted to do was have a nice evening ready for Gladio when he got home from the Citadel. Sadly Ramuh seemed to have other plans in store.

But with the help of a caring Alpha, poor eyesight and a Christmas gift gone wrong... maybe this evening won't be so terrible after all?

A/n: Hello there! This is an F3S work for my friend @bgn846! I had far too much trouble deciding on which prompt to write so... I did them all in one fic! The prompts were:

'1.One of the bros gets locked out of their apartment in the rain or snow or something terrible. They call someone to come help, cuddles and fluff may occur.

2.A/B/O if you wanna try or just regular… Alpha Gladio surprises Omega Prompto with some flowers or something after a long day. This is purely an excuse for fluff and purring.

3.”Is that a boob mug?” This has absolutely no context for a reason. Hahah'

They were all so fun how could I pick?!?!? XD

You can also read on AO3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26590126

Enjoy! :)

Word Count: 4187

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“You have got to be kidding me?!” Prompto growled under his breath, his fingers fumbling inside his soggy pants pockets as he tried to desperately locate his house keys, shifting his couple bags of groceries from one arm to the other in his search. Was it unseemly for an Omega to growl? Maybe. Did he give any butts about it now? Absolutely not.

The poor Omega had found himself swept up in an early fall downpour on his way back from a quick excursion to downtown Insomnia and really, why wouldn’t it have happened on today of all days? It had been spiracorn dung since the beginning and no matter how much he’d hoped for it to get better it appeared it truly wasn’t in the cards.

Another gust of wind whipped its way along the street where his and Gladio’s townhouse resided, sending sheets of rain cascading over him once more. Why was Ramuh being such a dick today?!

He could hear other people rushing behind him along the sidewalk, seeking shelter in their own homes because they could at least remember to grab their keys from the little bowl at the front door. Hadn’t Gladio literally put it there months ago to make sure he would remember to grab his keys because he knew something like this was bound to happen?

After coming up short in searching his jacket pockets as well, the sound of something tearing and things hitting the ground instantly made Prompto want to scream. And so he did.

“Oh come on!” Prompto shouted to no one in particular. Glancing down he saw the paper bags he’d been using had become so soggy that literally everything he had bought now lay scattered along the stoop or was rolling down the few steps that led to the sidewalk. At this point, though it stung to see his purchases become waterlogged, he couldn’t bring it in himself to chase after them. If Ramuh wanted his groceries that bad he could take them! With another unseemly growl that made him feel slightly better, he thumped his head against the door as he tried to figure out what his next course of action should be.

There was always trying to call someone, but at this point his phone was probably so full of rain water it was useless. Even then who was he going to call?

Noct was in an incredibly important meeting with the delegates from Altissia. It was supposed to help rebuild some of the trading deals that had been in place before Insomnia had fallen all those years ago. He’d been working so hard to rebuild everything from the ground up and there was no way that Prompto was going to bother his best friend for something as silly as this. Besides, he could stand some soggy underpants if it meant that Noct could continue to raise Insomnia back to where it should be and far beyond it as well.

There was always Ignis, but today really would be an ill advised day to bother the Beta as well. If Noct was busy working on building trade deals then Ignis was more than likely pulling the work weight of five men to ensure that it happened. The man had become more and more reclusive when it came to his time in the archives and pulling out as much info as he could to help create a better and brighter Insomnia. And while there was definitely a reckoning coming for the Beta in the form of his three friends forcing him to take some sort of break or vacation, today was not going to be that day. That being said, he would also rather face a thousand feral daggerquills then interrupt Ignis while he was in extreme Adviser mode.

Bringing a hand up, Prompto went to wipe at his face to clear away some of the rain water cascading off his fringe, but aborted the movement a moment later. At this point it would be replaced in a nanosecond and he couldn’t find the energy to care anymore about it. With a deep sigh of defeat he took a seat on the soaked cement stoop and tried not to think of his last option.

Gladio.

Prompto gave a quiet, little whine as he thought of his Alpha. Gods he wished he could just warp back to this morning, wrapped up in the man's arms without a care in the world. It was a simpler time. A less soggy and cold time. He remembered only briefly waking to the brush of soft lips against his brow, his nose and then his own lips as Gladio promised to be back as soon as possible. The next time Prompto woke, the early morning sun had been replaced with fluffier autumnal clouds and the bed was far cooler without the living furnace that was Gladio

The Alpha had to get up early to be at the meeting with Noct and though the threat from Altissia was non-existent after everything, it still was better to err on the side of caution. And if there was going to be a force to dissuade any brazen acts of unrest, Gladio’s presence was more than capable of stopping it.

So sadly that meant enjoying a little breakfast together, or a few extra stolen kisses on the front stoop before Gladio went off were off the table for the day. Prompto found lonely mornings like this to be the roughest to start. However, he also knew that Gladio preferred them having their mornings to themselves as well and that always filled the Omega with a little extra warmth in his chest. Knowing that Gladio was going to have such a full day and that his own presence was not needed at the Citadel he’d decided that he would surprise his lovely Alpha with a nice home cooked dinner for when he returned to their cozy apartment.

Thus after spending the better part of the day buying groceries for a ramen dish he knew Gladio would love, and maybe buying a small dessert for them to share together later, everything went to heck in a handbasket.

If he’d spent more time thinking to grab his keys and check the forecast instead of imagining the smile on Gladio’s face he wouldn’t be in the predicament he was in now.

Soggy groceries strewn about the pavement, a chill settling deep in his bones and a wish in his heart greater than anything that he could just be back inside and restart the day from the beginning.

“Prompto? Prom, what happened?!” The sound of someone shouting to him through the downpour and rumbling thunder had Prompto’s head shooting up, not even realizing he’d ducked his head down to hide against his knees to begin with.

His eyes had to take a moment to focus, but as soon as the familiar warmth of the person’s hand touched his cheek he instantly sagged forward. Strong arms wrapped around him without hesitation and he felt the rain lessen minutely against his shivering frame.

“Gl-Gladio?” he stammered, nuzzling his face into the crook of his Alpha’s neck, taking in the scent of cool forests and wildflowers. A scent unmistakably Gladio’s, but with an underlying hint of firesmoke. The man was upset and Prompto hated knowing he’d caused it. “S-Sorry… sorry, Gladio. I… I was st-stupid and for-forgot my…!” His voice was cut off by a rather unmanly squeak that escaped when Gladio’s arms shifted and he found himself being lifted like a blushing bride and held against his Alpha’s broad chest, shielded from the unkind weather.

“No apologies, Sunshine,” Gladio murmured softly and Prompto felt the way his partner easily moved toward their door with him. After a little jostling he heard the familiar jingle of keys and soon they were entering into the small hallway of their home. Prompto could tell he was without a doubt drenching the little carpet they had down with the water coming off of him and he was probably making Gladio chilled by being held so close in his soggy mess of clothes.

A miserable little whine escaped Prompto without him meaning to and he felt Gladio give him a soft squeeze. “Let’s get you out of these wet clothes. You feel like an ice cube,” he murmured softly and this only made Prompto frown more, especially as he felt himself being carried toward their bathroom.

“I-I can go myself… you… you were wo-working all day. I’m s-sorry,” he stammered only to find a soft kiss pressed to his forehead. Looking up he caught the small smile on his Alpha’s lips.

“Please stop apologizing, sweetheart. It’s not your fault.”

“But…,” he murmured only to find the man's lips now pressed against his own to stop him from finishing his sentence. As Gladio leaned back he nuzzled against Prompto’s nose, the deep rumble of a small purr vibrating through his chest and making Prompto’s bones feel like they were turning to liquid. It only lasted a few seconds, but it was more than enough to quiet him and make him pliant for what Gladio had to say next.

“None of that,” Gladio murmured softly as they finally reached their bathroom. “The only time you should ever have to apologize is if something is directly your fault. Do you control the weather? No. Would you have apologized to me on a sunny day? No. This isn’t your fault, Sunshine. Just a little bad luck.”

Prompto felt himself carefully set down on the bathroom counter, Gladio’s large frame moving around their small bathroom easily as he went to turn on the shower spray and grab his own towel for Prompto to use. “Why does it always seem like I have bad luck though?” Prompto asked as Gladio closed the shower curtain and turned back to his mate.

“I don’t see what happens to you as bad luck. Merely… inconvenient moments?” Gladio tried to offer, getting an unimpressed looked from his Omega as water still dripped from his fringe and down his freckled face. “Okay… so maybe some of it is bad luck. But it just means I get to come in and be your knight in shining armor and you know how much you love that.”

The cocky little smile Gladio flashed him after that made Prompto snort, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth to quiet the noise. “You’re ridiculous,” he murmured.

“But I’m not wrong,” Gladio teased, stepping forward and sweeping his mate’s damp fringe to the side to press a gentle kiss to his brow. “Now go on. I’ll leave you to warm up a bit and I’ll bring in a change of clothes, okay?” With another soft kiss to the tip of his chilled nose, Prompto already felt himself warming just from the presence of his Alpha.

Once Gladio stepped out, Prompto scooched himself off the edge of the bathroom counter, moving a bit slowly as his fingers still felt a little numbed and chilled from the rainfall. Soon he was free of his soggy clothes, quickly put in the hamper, and was stepping into the wonderfully warm spray of their shower.

It wasn’t much longer that he was feeling more human and less like the Astrals personal punching bag. The feeling had returned to his fingers and toes and if he chose to use Gladio’s body wash to wrap himself up in the man's scent a bit more he was sure his Alpha wouldn’t mind. Pulling the curtain back he saw that his favorite pyjama’s, the sweats with chocobo’s on them and his favorite band t-shirt, were already on the counter waiting for him. Apparently he’d been so engrossed in getting the icky feelings and weather off of him that he hadn’t heard the door open and close. For such a big guy it always surprised Prompto how stealthy he could be. Which generally made impromptu games of hide and seek a nightmare for him because the man was a walking shadow!

Soon he was changed, his hair toweled off with Gladio’s towel and hung back up to dry. Now to figure out how he was going to save the evening from his ridiculous ‘inconvenient moment’ and do something nice for Gladio! Opening the door to the bathroom, Prompto only had a moment to think before he found himself literally enveloped in a blanket and hoisted back into the air with a squeal that would’ve put the best horror actress to shame!

Gladio’s booming laughter echoed through the hall a moment later and as Prompto wriggled his face out of the warm fabric he glared at the man. “Wh-what are you doing?!“ he squeaked, finding himself once more being carried around in his darling's arms like a bride in a quilted gown.

“Making sure my Omega is taken care of, sweetheart,” he cooed, making Prompto try to hide his flushed face in the blanket which, he realized, was radiating heat. He nuzzled his cheek against the fabric and a soft little trill of content escaping him making Gladio chuckle again.

“I see putting the blanket in the dryer for a little bit worked its magic,” he teased, making Prompto flush more, though his soft smile on his lips stayed. Soon he was being deposited on their sofa, his favorite tv show already playing and something warm and delicious smelling steaming on the small coffee table in front of them.

“Did… is that Cup Noodle?” he asked as he saw the noodles presented in a far fancier mug then he had ever realized their house had and a fork already nestled in it, only waiting for him to pluck it up to dive into the meal.

“It is. I went back out to clean up what was left of the groceries and I saw what you wanted to make,” he murmured, taking a seat beside Prompto and wrapping his arm around the man to hug him close to his side. “I know it’s not homemade, but I hope it will still do. If nothing else it should help warm you up even more.” Prompto felt his cheeks heating for the umpteenth time now at the sweetness of his mate, but also at how spectacularly he had failed. Sighing quietly he nuzzled closer to Gladio, taking in a deep breath and just focusing on his Alpha’s warmth for the moment. “I wanted to surprise you,” he whispered quietly. “You had such a busy day and… I just wanted to give you a relaxing evening. All I managed to do was make you worry about me and look after me.”

Closing his eyes as he spoke he curled up a bit more in the blanket. “I’m sorry.”

Gladio’s arm around him moved slightly and soon Prompto felt strong, calloused fingers gently soothing through the damp knots in his hair. “You have nothing to apologize for, Sunshine,” Gladio whispered gently. “And I’ll keep reminding you of that. That you don’t have to apologize for things like the weather, or dropping something, or forgetting something... until one day those apologies don’t happen anymore. Because there is nothing you could ever do that I would think you should be sorry for. You’re my sunshine. And sunshine has only ever made me smile and happy. No apologies needed.”

The soft reassurances and the gentle soothing to his hair was almost enough to make Prompto’s barely held together composure break and a quiet sniffle escaped him. “Y-You’re too good to me, ya know that?” he murmured, a watery little giggle escaping when he felt Gladio ruffling his hair lightly.

”No… you deserve the world, Sunshine. Don’t ever doubt that,” Gladio murmured softly, pressing a kiss to his temple before shifting and leaning forward. “Now. I think the noodles have cooled long enough and if you wait any longer they’ll lose their chewy integrity.”

“Chewy integrity?” Prompto questioned, bringing a hand up to soothe his hair back down and feeling the weight in his chest lifting more and more. “I feel like only Cup Noodle addicts would believe in such a thing.”

The dramatic gasp that left Gladio and the scathing look he was given had Prompto fighting another round of giggles as he brought a hand up to cover his mouth.

“I am not an addict! I’m a connoisseur!” Gladio huffed before passing over the ceramic cup, fighting a smile of his own.

“Mmhm. And I’m the queen of Duscae,” Prompto teased, stirring his fork into the noodles in search of a few veggies.

“I’m gonna tell Iggy you don’t believe in the integrity of noodles. You’re going to get such a lecture,” Gladio huffed, leaning back with his own cup and twirling a fair amount of the noodly goodness onto his own fork.

“Oooor… you’ll get an earful about your sodium intake again and… then… uh…,” Prompto paused as he turned to look at Gladio, watching as the man stared back at him in confusion.

“And… what? Everything okay, Prompto?” Gladio asked carefully around a mouthful, but Prompto’s eyes narrowed slightly as he tried to process what he was seeing.

“Is… is that a boob mug?” he asked, looking at the coffee cup Gladio was currently enjoying his meal from.

Gladio almost choked on his half chewed bite, coughing and smacking his chest before looking at Prompto like he was the crazy one.

“What?! No this isn’t a boob mug! Look at it,” he said, raising up what was clearly the mug of a female torso.

Prompto stared at his mate in disbelief before pointing at it. “I am! It’s a mug… with boobs! Where did you even get that thing?!” In the few years they had been living here he had absolutely no recollection of that hideous thing and if he had seen it, it wouldn’t have stayed in this apartment for very long. “Cor gave it to me last year for Christmas. He said it was a bag gift, which was weird because it was wrapped, but still!” Gladio groused as he narrowed his eyes at the mug, apparently trying to see what Prompto was seeing. “It’s obviously two moogles next to each other! Look! They even have their bright red noses!”

Prompto slowly started to see all the pieces coming together in this one moment and honestly, it was both endearing and hilarious. “Uh… I’ll be right back, big guy,” he said lightly, only just keeping the tremble of laughter out of his voice as he wiggled out of the warm blanket and ran to their room. Quickly locating what he was looking for he returned with his old glasses in hand and handed them to his Alpha. “Would you please, please, please humor me and put these on?”

Gladio had waited patiently for his mate’s return, but seeing the glasses instantly had him grumbling. “What are you trying to say?” he questioned, holding the glasses as if they had personally offended his honor.

“Nothing! Nothing, just… please?” Prompto asked, jutting out his bottom lip and making his eyes go extra wide in that way he knew Gladio couldn’t fight against… adding in a little whine making it a sure thing.

With a growl, Gladio begrudgingly unfolded the glasses. “Fine. But I’m gonna tell you the same thing I said earlier,” he reassured as he perched the glasses on his nose before picking up the cup again. “This mug is just an innocent picture of… shiva’s tits!”

“Exactly!” Prompto crowed as Gladio’s now seeing eyes beheld the world’s most atrocious mug. The absolute shock that crossed his mate’s features had the laughter Prompto had been trying to hide finally break free.

“It’s not funny!” Gladio whined, still gripping the mug in his hands and staring at it with betrayal. After a moment his eyes widened in horror. “I’ve been drinking from this at the Citadel! I brought it home because it chipped and wanted to fix it! Oh my gods I must’ve looked like such a dick!”

Prompto was positively beside himself now, his laughter high-pitched and squeaking as tears of mirth clung to his eyelashes. Oh his poor sweet Alpha!

“Y-You… dihihihihidn’t?! O-oh my gahahahad!” Prompto wheezed out, laughing so hard he was leaning on Gladio who looked like he wanted nothing more to have the sofa swallow him up. The mug was now abandoned on the coffee table and Gladio had his head in his hands.

Slowly Prompto started to calm, a few stray giggles still bubbling up as he wrapped his arm around his Alpha’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, big guy. But… I think what Cor might have said to you was that it was a ‘gag’ gift. Not a ‘bag’ gift,” he murmured softly. Gladio groaned even louder as he heard that and shook his head.

“So not only is my eyesight going, but I can’t hear as well?” Gladio mumbled and Prompto smiled gently, pressing a soft kiss to the man's shoulder and soothing his hand over his broad back.

“First of all, I was at that Christmas party and if the music was any louder you would’ve had to send flare signals to talk to anyone,” Prompto said gently, getting a little huff from his Alpha as he wrapped his arm around him and hugged the big guy closer. “But as for your eyesight… you’ve definitely been squinting a bit more lately. But… those glasses are cute on you.”

Prompto watched as Gladio’s ears tinged red at being called cute and he bit his lower lip as a smile appeared over his lips.

“Shields don’t wear glasses… and they aren’t cute…,” came the haughty little reply and Prompto found himself rolling his eyes.

“Well… my Shield just mistook a boob mug for moogles so I think there maaay be an exception to the rule,” he giggled softly. “And while I hate to argue with my Alpha… he most definitely looks cute in glasses.”

Gladio finally peeked his eyes out, his cheeks matching the light pink of his ears and making Prompto’s heart flutter a bit. Leaning forward he pressed a soft kiss to one of those warmed cheeks and finally saw his Alpha’s smile returning.

“I guess we both had a tough day, huh?” Prompto murmured softly. “I got caught in a rainstorm brought on by the rage of Ramuh himself… and you found out you’re getting old,” Prompto teased his Alpha lightly, giving his side a little pinch and earning a squeak from the man.

“Hey! I’ll show you old!” Gladio growled, quickly tackling Prompto onto the sofa and gathering up his giggling Omega in his arms, pulling him flush against his chest. “Do old Alpha’s cuddle? I think not!” he mumbled from somewhere above Prompto’s head, making the blond giggle harder as he wrapped his arms around Gladio’s waist and snuggled closer to the warmth he adored. “I don’t know. Should I do tests to find out? Find some nice young Alphahaha’s! Okahahay! I won’t! I w-wohohon’t!” Prompto squealed out as Gladio’s fingers teased at his vulnerable side, tickling him mercilessly for a few seconds before stopping.

“Shush it, you,” Gladio chided with a soft smile, glancing down at Prompto with a look that always managed to melt Prompto’s insides. The omega gave a happy little trill at that and snuggled closer as Gladio’s arms wrapped more snugly around him.

“Well… now that your Cup Noodles have lost any and all texture and you’ve managed to lure me into a cuddle pile… why don’t you get some rest, Sunshine?” Gladio murmured, the quiet, deep timbre of his voice already starting to have an effect on the Omega.

Cuddling closer and hiding his face against Gladio’s chest, Prompto felt his eyes already starting to close. The warmth of his mate’s embrace that he had missed since this morning enveloped him completely and finally, finally every bad thing from the day felt like it was starting to ebb away.

He felt Gladio shifting for a moment, hearing the faint sound of his glasses being placed on the coffee table before the man settled once more. A hand soon made its way up to his hair, gently running through it and lightly scratching over his scalp and truly, this was all Prompto ever wanted or needed.

It wasn’t much longer that Prompto found a soft purr starting to escape him and a little smile flickered over his lips as Gladio soon responded in kind. The Alpha’s deeper purr made Prompto’s mind go wonderfully fuzzy and he sighed softly.

Finally, after the struggles and ups and downs of the day he was able to be back where he had longed to be since the beginning. In the strong arms of his Alpha, a soft smile on his lips and knowing that regardless of what little turmoils and inconvenient moments happened, he would always have Gladio there to pick him up, making him laugh and offer him comfort. Hopefully he could do the same.

Perhaps he’d start by getting rid of that mug for him?

But that could happen after a nice autumn nap.

#ffxv #promptio #prompto argentum #gladiolus amicitia #fluff #whump #my fics #I hope you enjoy my friend!#cuteness #everyone lives nobody dies au #alternate ending

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