#never reveal any vulnerability you have unless it's absolutely necessary | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago

Note

Thank you "Worthwhile Trade". The idea of Baxia turning into an guai is so interesting. I liked imagining the part where she hit NMJ for his idiocy. My brain is projecting "married couple" vibes, omg. I admit despite how weird WWX spoke about the events, the time travel part flew over my head until the tags spelled it out for me. (TBC)

(Cont'd) Also... did NMJ mean it in THAT dual-thing way when talking WRH's prefs? And the last part, where WWX used resentful energy to sub NMJ's qi. I assume he can still cultivate since his core's still there, if emptied? But I wonder what'll happen to his energy once restored Can't help but think his renewed qi will inevitably be affected by the traces of the previous energy that once circulated. He's not going to become a walking stygian tiger or something, is he? Off the wall guess, sorry!

----

sequel to Worthwhile Trade (ao3), also on tumblr

Wei Wuxian didn’t understand Nie Mingjue.

He didn’t understand the way he thought, the way he acted – the way he smiled when he woke up, the way he opened his arms when Nie Huaisang threw himself into them with a wail and said, “It was worth it for you, didi; it always is if it’s for you. Don’t you know that?” the way Wei Wuxian had always shamefully thought of saying, as if something like that could just be said like that, out in the open.

The way Nie Mingjue shrugged when the doctors said his cultivation would likely never recover, that he should have died, that they didn’t understand why he hadn’t; the way he said, seeming even satisfied, that it was a worthwhile trade.

It’s not a trade, Wei Wuxian wanted to scream at him. It’s a sacrifice! It hurts and you’re sad, no, worse, you’re resentful about it and you shouldn’t be because it was your choice, your decision, but you see someone else with everything that you worked so hard for and you’re angry when you shouldn’t be angry and you feel bad and you turn away; it hurts them when you do and you’re glad, you miserable thing, you’re happy that they’re hurt because why should you be the only one whose hurt –

Perhaps the problem wasn’t that he didn’t understand Nie Mingjue.

Perhaps it was only that he saw in Nie Mingjue his own faults, his own deficiencies, the ones he’d tried so hard to hide in the sea of his poor memory.

“You’ll die if you don’t find a way to cultivate,” he said instead, hovering by the door. He’d say that he didn’t mean to ruin the mood, but he kind of did, and Baxia’s eyes on him were cold as if she knew.

As if she knew everything.

How he’d gone back to the past, how he’d changed things, how it was his fault that Nie Mingjue – who’d never done a single thing to hurt him, who’d been upright and righteous and good and whose brother loved him enough to –

Wei Wuxian had made a point of avoiding Baxia.

Not that she was that easy to avoid. She was tall for a woman – not as tall as Nie Mingjue, but proportionate to him in the sense that she was as much taller than the average woman as he was taller than the average man – and she walked as though people should flee before her, a tread that only felt heavy because of the almost visceral rage that surrounded her like a cloud.

Nie Huaisang had found robes for her, somehow, and they were the least feminine robes Wei Wuxian had ever seen a woman wear, though he supposed he still hadn’t seen that given that Baxia wasn’t exactly a woman. Cut in a martial style, a dark shimmering grey that seemed in some lights to be almost red – she had been born as a human in a mantle of blood and she would not let anyone forget it.

“I should have died already,” Nie Mingjue said, as if the world’s scariest guai didn’t have her hand on his shoulder right next to his vulnerable neck. “You came up with a solution, Wei-gongzi, and for that I thank you. Even if we are not able to solve the next stage, being able to see my loved ones is worthwhile.”

Wei Wuxian could learn to hate that word.

“I have a solution, of a sort,” he said, irritated and not entirely because his reveal had been preempted. He’d hoped to sort of ease into it, somehow. “You lack the capacity for regular cultivation, but that doesn’t mean you can’t use demonic cultivation.”

“What? No, we can’t do that,” Nie Huaisang said, biting his fingers anxiously. “Anyway, doesn’t demonic cultivation harm the temperament?”

“You mean my temperament can get worse?” Nie Mingjue teased, and Nie Huaisang smacked him so lightly that it didn’t even displace his clothing. “I don’t know any means of demonic cultivation, Wei-gongzi –”

“Call me Wei Wuxian,” Wei Wuxian said. “Please.”

“Wei Wuxian, then,” Nie Mingjue said. “All the methods I’ve ever heard of were forbidden for very good reasons – but perhaps those conditions are not the same in the method you know.”

Wei Wuxian tensed. “How do you know that I know one?”

“You saved me, didn’t you?” Nie Mingjue said practically, and well, yes, Wei Wuxian supposed he had a point – “And anyway, Baxia can tell.”

Wei Wuxian shivered. “I don’t use it,” he argued. “How can she tell?”

At Nie Huaisang’s instigation, Baxia had recently started experimenting with smiles. She put one on her face now.

It was terrifying.

“Tell me about it,” Nie Mingjue requested. “The powers and the price, all of it.”

“You’re actually considering this?” Nie Huaisang exclaimed. “But da-ge…!”

“Wei Wuxian was not wrong when he said that I would die if I didn’t find a way to cultivate despite having given up what I have,” Nie Mingjue said. “If I die, what will you do?”

Oh, not much, just become a mastermind capable of puppeting the entire cultivation world to enact revenge for your death. Nothing big.

“But – da-ge has always put such a priority on remaining on the righteous path…”

“That’s why I asked about the costs,” Nie Mingjue said patiently. “I will not abandon righteousness simply because I adopt a new method of cultivating.”

“Everyone will revile you even if you are righteous,” Wei Wuxian warned him.

Nie Mingjue shrugged. “Who is everyone? What do I care for them? You do the right thing because it is right, not for the sake of fame.”

Wei Wuxian had once thought the same.

“If everyone in the cultivation world thinks you are evil, they will paint you as evil no matter what you do,” he insisted. “No matter how righteous your motives –”

“Let them think he’s evil, then!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed. “He could be the most black-hearted cultivator in the land, but he’s still my da-ge; my Nie sect and I will protect him!”

“Huaisang! No! That is not how righteousness works – if I ever truly become evil, you are to cut me off at once, kill me if necessary –”

“No way!”

“Huaisang – Baxia, tell him; evil cannot be endured –”

Baxia was looking at her fingernails. She’d picked that gesture up from Sect Leader Ouyang, when he was trying to be pointed about ignoring someone; it was extremely irritating to absolutely everyone who wanted to know who she was and what she was doing here and Nie Huaisang and Wei Wuxian had teamed up to convince her to keep doing it.

Possibly a mistake, in retrospect.

“Baxia. I know you agree with me on this. Evil is evil, and must be eradicated no matter who it may be.”

She gave him an unimpressed look.

“I know I’m not evil yet,” Nie Mingjue argued, apparently understanding her without any difficulty whatsoever. He’d just woken up from a month-long coma and he could already speak fluent human-saber, it was really unfair. And this man had succumbed to Jin Guangyao’s wiles? Lan Xichen had more to answer for than he knew. “But if I ever become evil – what? No, we will not burn that bridge when we come to it, that’s not even the right idiom, who is teaching you these things –”

Nie Huaisang coughed and hid his face behind a fan.

Wei Wuxian was not going to laugh.

Nie Mingjue growled at them all and turned back to Wei Wuxian. “Explain,” he demanded. “The rest of you, out.”

“But –”

“Out. One of us has to cultivate the righteous path, and if it can’t be me, it has to be you. Baxia?”

She picked Nie Huaisang up by his collar, for all the world like a mother dog picking up her pup by the scruff of its neck, and walked out.

Nie Mingjue picked up demonic cultivation faster than anyone else Wei Wuxian had ever met or even heard of. He wasn’t sure if that demonstrated an unnerving aptitude or if it was simply that Nie Mingjue was surpassingly talented – Wei Wuxian had never met anyone like himself before, someone for whom all things came easy, and it was an unexpected delight to meet a kindred soul somewhere where he’d long ago given up hope. He’d never planned to unveil demonic cultivation in this life unless he truly needed it – he didn’t want to hurt his Lan Zhan the way he had in his first life, and anyway Jiang Cheng and Uncle Jiang and Madame Yu were all alive, with hundreds of Jiang sect members to boot, there was no need for his sacrifice – but the part of him that was more researcher and inventor than cultivator luxuriated in their discussions.

Nie Mingjue was a lot more concerned than Wei Wuxian had ever been with consequences, and how to mitigate them, but he supposed that made sense: losing his cultivation hadn’t impacted that Nie temper one bit, and demonic cultivation was likely to make things worse. Moreover, Nie Mingjue was simply who he was, stiff and unbending, as much steel in his spine as in Baxia’s; he could almost be described as being rigid in his thinking except for the fact that he was in fact seriously considering becoming a demonic cultivator.

“We’re saber cultivators,” Nie Mingjue said when Wei Wuxian tentatively brought it up. “Like a saber, our nature is to be firm and unyielding, not flexible like the sword, but we cannot allow ourselves to become too rigid – a too-rigid saber will break upon encountering an obstacle. It’s a difficult balance to keep, and one made more difficult by our cultivation style.”

“The demonic cultivation aspects, you mean? Using yao to refine your saber spirit?”

“One day, though not today, I’m going to ask you how you know about that,” Nie Mingjue remarked, and although his tone was causal Wei Wuxian’s back went cold. “And I’ll expect you to tell me the truth when I do. But not today. Anyway, yes, that’s what I mean. Do you know what they mean when they say that demonic cultivation harms the temperament?”

Wei Wuxian hesitated. “I assume you’re going to tell me something other than ‘it drives you crazy and makes you kill people’?”

Nie Mingjue snorted. “Sometimes I wonder how someone as smart as you got sent home before you finished your lessons at the Cloud Recesses, but other times it’s fairly obvious.”

Wei Wuxian shrugged, embarrassed.

“Do you really not know?”

“No one taught this to me,” Wei Wuxian said, stung. “I came up with it on my own. How would I know?”

“All demonic cultivation has the same root,” Nie Mingjue said. “Obsession.”

“With killing, yeah, I know, I’ve heard it a million times –”

“Shut up and listen, you impertinent brat. The killing comes later. It starts with obsession. Obsession with righteousness, obsession with love, obsession with the pleasures of this world, with power – a human becomes a demon when they cannot overcome the obsessions within their heart, and the obsession consumes them. In time, a demonic cultivator who is obsessed with power will do whatever it takes to obtain that power, and not mind the blood shed to do it; a demonic cultivator who is obsessed with love will kill everyone who they perceive stands between them and their love, a demonic cultivator who is obsessed with righteousness will turn to murder when in their judgment something that ought to be condemned goes unpunished…”

“What about one who only wants what’s best for his family?” Wei Wuxian said, and he did not know if the challenge in his voice was about Nie Mingjue’s future or his own past.

Nie Mingjue shrugged. “Two roads that I can see: first, their family turns away from them for what they have become and they become vicious with the abandonment, becoming quick to lash out against the world and eventually doing something that causes the world to turn against them. Second, their family stands by them, and eventually the world causes some harm to them – and the demonic cultivator turns to madness in revenge.”

“Not exactly an optimistic outlook.”

“Not especially, no.”

“You don’t seem as concerned by that as I would have thought.”

Nie Mingjue’s lips twitched. “I have a solution.”

“Would you like to share?”

“Using resentful energy to cultivate our sabers makes them prone to obsession, driving them ceaselessly to fight evil, destroy it, without discrimination. It makes them stronger, but also more dangerous – and that is why they must be carefully controlled.”

Wei Wuxian frowned. “So, what? You’re going to be the saber now? Under whose control?”

“Huaisang’s, of course,” Nie Mingjue said, as if it were obvious. “For better or for worse, he is sect leader now. Who else would it be?”

“But – what if you disagree? What if he wants to do things one way, and you another –”

“Then I argue and probably yell a lot, and if in the end he still insists on doing things his way, I listen,” Nie Mingjue said dryly. “That’s how hierarchy works. Isn’t it the same for you? When your shidi, Jiang Cheng, becomes sect leader, you’ll need to listen to him – or leave the sect. There’s no middle ground.”

Wei Wuxian scowled.

“A sect leader that can’t control his disciples is worse than a demonic cultivator,” Nie Mingjue said. “He’s weak. A target, ripe to be ripped apart and devoured by other sects – resources raided, disciples poached, responsibilities taken away...It’s not a fate I would wish on anyone. If you can’t commit to obeying, commit to leaving so that you don’t end up promising more than you can give.”

Ouch.

Just – ouch.

Great advice, fantastic advice, world-class advice, and totally useless because Jiang Cheng had travelled back in time with him and was therefore convinced that Wei Wuxian was just looking for the first way out of the Jiang sect he could find, no matter what Wei Wuxian said or did about it.

(Even Madame Yu was concerned by the new coldness in their relationship and had tried to talk to him about it, which – Wei Wuxian didn’t know what to do with that. It didn’t match any of what he had thought he’d understood.)

He decided to focus back in on the demonic cultivation lessons, shifting from theoretical discussions to the practical, and that, unfortunately, was when they encountered an issue.

“What do you mean you can’t play an instrument?” Wei Wuxian demanded, appalled. “It’s one of the Six Arts! Everyone can play some sort of instrument – even Nie Huaisang plays an instrument!”

“Everyone agreed it was better that I stop learning,” Nie Mingjue said defensively. “It’s all just plucking on strings or blowing air in pipes, and yet no matter that I did exactly what the teacher said to do, it never worked, that’s all.”

“Didn’t Zewu-jun offer to teach you…?”

“He did. And then he said it would be better if we stopped, too.”

The reason, Wei Wuxian soon learned, was that Nie Mingjue was almost completely tone deaf, and the only reason it was almost was that he was still capable of differentiating speech.

“I agree with the majority,” he said after an extremely frustrating day. “Stop. Never pick up an instrument ever again. And don’t let anyone but Zewu-jun play something especially for you, either, okay? Even if they’re highly recommended.”

“An interesting request,” Nie Mingjue said, eyebrows arched skeptically. “May I ask why?”

“Because you’ll have no idea if they’ve changed the music on you,” Wei Wuxian said bluntly. A great deal about the man’s murder in a different life made sense now, and Jin Guangyao’s brilliance in hiding the score of Turmoil inside of Clarity was a little less impressive when played to a man who thought all music, without exception, was just plucking strings or blowing air. “Musical cultivation is deadly in the right hands, especially if you lower your defenses against it. Just consider it a precaution.”

Nie Mingjue’s eyebrows remained arched, but he hummed in agreement.

“I guess we’ll have to think of a new way for you to cultivate demonic cultivation,” Wei Wuxian said, rubbing his face. He had not been planning on having to invent demonic cultivation at all in this life, and now he needed to not only ‘invent’ the original but actually come up with something new. Why was his life so hard? “How did you previously manipulate external energy?”

“With Baxia.”

“Well, that’s not helpful, is it? You can’t wield a human being. Perhaps another saber…?”

That didn’t work, primarily because it turned out that Baxia had strong feelings about Nie Mingjue even thinking about using another saber and well, as far as Wei Wuxian was concerned, whatever Baxia wanted, Baxia got.

(Nie Huaisang had had to go to Heijan once, with Wei Wuxian and Baxia accompanying him since Nie Mingjue wasn’t ready yet, and some unlucky Wen captain had tried to ambush them. That captain, and his squad, were not granted the courtesy of an intact corpse, and Baxia hadn’t even gotten a speck of blood on her nice new robes – no, Wei Wuxian would not be crossing Baxia any time soon.)

“There’s got to be something,” Wei Wuxian said, and Nie Mingjue agreed, and in the end they found something.

Nie Mingjue had been absent-mindedly playing around with one of Nie Huaisang’s fans when one of the fierce corpses Wei Wuxian had raised as practice targets had gotten loose; instinct had taken over and Nie Mingjue had lashed out with the weapon at hand as if it were a saber, and the resentful energy had surged in response –

Baxia was apparently not threatened by the notion of her master using a fan as a weapon, not even one inlaid with steel and heavy cloth with enough layers to catch a sword in.

(If Wei Wuxian needed to go have some time to himself at the sight of Nie Huaisang, dressed as a sect leader with his saber always at his side, standing next to Nie Mingjue holding a fan – well, that was his problem, and also one he intended to show to Jiang Cheng at the next possible opportunity. Someone else deserved to have their mind wrecked by the incongruity as much as he had.)

Even without the weirdness of Nie Mingjue, it was more than a little odd to see Nie Huaisang in the robes of a sect leader without him acting like the Head-shaker. The shock of having to become sect leader had fallen heavily on him: he had become a little more serious, a little more earnest (though still a bit frivolous); he was more inclined to listen and think things over, less inclined to run away.

“If da-ge is going to become a demonic cultivator, someone needs to stand behind him,” Nie Huaisang said simply when Wei Wuxian had tried probing. “He’s always held the world up for me – it’s the least I can do for him. I may not be able to do much, I might be terrible at it, but I owe it to him to at least try.”

Wei Wuxian wondered, sometimes, if Jiang Cheng would have stood up for him if only he had trusted in him, believed in him, the way Nie Mingjue believed in his notoriously useless little brother.

Maybe he’d ask, when he went back to the Jiang sect.

Maybe he’d –

“What the fuck is wrong with you,” Jiang Cheng said as a greeting, and for once Uncle Jiang didn’t disagree. “All those letters and you never once mentioned the terrors?”

“The what,” Wei Wuxian said, and that was how he learned that while he was on his way back to Yunmeng neither Baxia nor Nie Mingjue had wasted any time utilizing their newfound skills out on the battlefield.

Nie Huaisang was never going to be a particularly respected sect leader, especially by those that had met him beforehand, but evidently that wasn’t really important given that he was constantly flanked by what was being called the two terrors of Qinghe.

Nie Mingjue preferred darker colors now that he was no longer sect leader, the same dark grey shading towards black that Baxia had selected for herself, and the selection somehow made him seem even taller, verging on inhuman, and Baxia standing beside him, her human features patterned roughly after his, made the two of them appear a matched set. Nie Mingjue wielded the fan that Wei Wuxian had helped him design, which he had forged with his own hands out of the metal from the Xuanwu’s cave that Wei Wuxian had foolishly figured someone ought to get some use out of, painted over with a cinnabar array in Nie Huaisang’s careful brushstrokes, and in his hands it was both weapon and conduit for the raising of armies of corpses. Baxia, for her part, held nothing but required nothing, a sweeping gesture of her hand more devastating than a dozen blows with the saber.

They were terrifying, a nightmare writ large and unmistakably dangerous, undeniably demonic cultivators in a way that was entirely different from Wei Wuxian’s own dramatics, and it unnerved the rest of the cultivation world the way Wei Wuxian had feared it would.

“It won’t be a problem,” Jiang Cheng said impatiently. “The Nie sect are ascending in strength, and this only adds to their mystique – who would challenge them?”

“Uh, Jin Guangshan,” Wei Wuxian said. “Like last time?”

Jiang Cheng huffed. “At this rate, I don’t even think Jin Guangyao will bother defecting to the Jin sect,” he said. “Not if he knows how to play his cards right. The Nie sect’s strength in the original version was never about Chifeng-zun’s skill with the blade alone. It was the whole sect’s strength, with Chifeng-zun’s ability to wield them as skillfully as he did his saber; he’s an outstanding general. And now they have him as a general, him as a demonic cultivator, and whatever the fuck is going on with Lady Baxia –”

“I already told you. She’s a guai.”

“Like I already told you, it doesn’t matter how many times you say that, I will immediately expel the knowledge from my mind and you should too. ‘Immortal cultivator cousin that my brother named his saber after’, like what Nie Huaisang has been putting about, is a perfectly acceptable cover story.”

“And the fact that his saber disappeared at the same time?”

“Coincidence,” Jiang Cheng said firmly. “And we’re sticking with that. Anyway, the point is that if you’re an ambitious man, the Nie sect is the place to be right now and probably will continue to be in the future. This is going to be evident to both Jin Guangshan and the future Jin Guangyao, and we’ll need to deal with that.”

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Wei Wuxian promised. “After rescuing Chifeng-zun and helping with the demonic cultivation, I’ve gotten pretty close to them.”

“Mm. And how about your other mission?”

Wei Wuxian scowled at the smirk on Jiang Cheng’s face. “You know perfectly well that I haven’t had any time to seduce Lan Wangji, what with how busy I’ve been. I don’t even know for sure if he likes me yet -!”

“You’re an idiot, he does, and you’re not allowed to keep us all in suspense for two decades this time. Figure it out.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I’m sticking you with the job of being an information courier and you leave for the Lan sect front line tomorrow.”

“You are the best shidi ever,” Wei Wuxian said, and meant it.

Jiang Cheng huffed. “Yeah, well,” he said as if his cheeks weren’t red. “Remember that in the future. In this life we’re the Twin Heroes, you hear me? No take-backs.”

Nie Mingjue was right: Wei Wuxian would need to either learn to obey or tell Jiang Cheng early on that he was leaving, and walking a path in the middle would only cause heartbreak all over again.

“Okay,” he said, deciding to ask Lan Wangji for advice on obedience. Surely that was something that could be learned? “Deal. You do know that that means Lan Wangji’s going to have to marry in, right?”

“Oh no,” Jiang Cheng said, voice entirely flat. “How terrible. I’ll find a way to manage dealing with that ice block somehow…listen, I don’t care if you end up calling him Wei Sizhui in this life, but don’t ruin his character. He was perfectly nice.”

“I don’t know if he’s even been born yet,” Wei Wuxian said glumly. “I’ve been looking, but…”

“I’ve asked some of Mother’s spies to keep track of Wen Ning and Wen Qing,” Jiang Cheng said. “Collecting evidence we’ll need for their inevitable post-war trial, assuming we want them to live better lives than just refugees. Give it time, we’ll find him.”

“Now I just need to see if Lan Wangji will want to raise children with me…”

“Wei Wuxian. I don’t care. Go.”

#mdzs #nie mingjue #wei wuxian #nie huaisang #baxia #jiang cheng #my fic #my fics #academic discussion of demonic cultivation #this isn't an answer to your question but I hope you like it anyway #tkpartisan

283 notes · View notes

adarlingsnightmare · 5 years ago

Text

Chuuya Nakahara Yandere Alphabet

Anonymous said:

Sounds good! How about the alphabet for chuuya? :3c

accidentally posted this to my main blog after writing a huge apology for my lack of posting :/ i keep doing that unfortunately. anyways, ive had a full week exams which is why i havent been posting. im extremely tired and stressed but i will try to get more requests done this week, though i have another week of exams. i do apologise, but itll be over soon. i hope you enjoy anon, this short bastard is one of my favs. <3

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Chuuya would gladly smother you in endless kisses and cuddles, but if you tell him to back off, he'll stick to just having an arm around you (because god forbid he isn't touching you in one way or another). You'll often hear him whispering how much he absolutely adores you when he thinks you're asleep, and when you're visibly awake he'll be showering you in compliments.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Oh, Chuuya will undoubtedly do whatever it takes to keep you safe, even if that results in bloody murder. He's in the mafia after all, what's a little blood on his hands, especially in the name of love?

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Chuuya would only mock you if you consistently failed to escape or were getting punished by him. Otherwise, he is generally loving and as romantic as possible. He will always make sure you're eating and sleeping properly, snapping at you if you refuse to eat as he gets awfully worried about you sometimes.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling's will?

No, not really. The only instances where something's against his darlings will is when he's punishing them. Other than that, it's mainly abduction and the lack of freedom to talk to people.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Chuuya confides in his darling, and will show a side of himself that no one else ever sees. He'll ask for advice on work matters and will constantly seek love and reassurance from his darling. While outwardly he may still appear tough and cocky, he's really soft for you.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

He would be pretty irritated and though he'd never admit it, quite hurt. Why can't you just love him, goddamnit?! He'll try not to hurt you too much, but if you're not backing down he will use force to get you to stop.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

Chuuya doesn't enjoy it in the slightest. His love for you isn't some 'game' and seeing you try to escape both infuriates and saddens him. All he truly wants is to be a happy, normal couple so your refusal to love him is not something he enjoys.

Hell: What would be their darling's worst experience with them?

Chuuya isn't always fully aware of how strong he actually is, especially when he uses Corruption and becomes out of control. This can lead to a terrifying situation where you're worried for your life as a monster in your boyfriend's body goes on a rampage and destroys everything around him. It rarely happens, as Chuuya really doesn't want to hurt you, but when it does it's a living nightmare.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Honestly, Chuuya doesn't really know what kind of future he wants for him and his darling, but ideally you two would move to some beautiful island — somewhere in the Caribbean, maybe? — get married, possibly start a family and live out the rest of your days in bliss.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Luckily, Chuuya isn't insanely possessive and doesn't lash out just because you looked at someone else, but he is paranoid. He has to keep you away from other people because, what if they attempt to hurt you? The only instance where he would genuinely become jealous is if Dazai was involved. This is when you'll see his full yandere side come out and it will be extreme: locking you up in highly secure room, restraining you, putting tracking devices in everything you own, anything to ensure your safety. If you were to show an interest in Dazai, whether platonic or even worse, romantic, his paranoia and jealousy would spike up tenfold — essentially guaranteeing you'll never see the light of day again.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Chuuya is generally really loving and calm towards his darling, still messing with them and lovingly calling them an idiot, but always so soft when speaking. However, if you were to be a brat, his rougher, more 'mafia' side would make an appearance— any soft words of reassurance thrown out the window.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

The 'traditional' way: flirting with you, taking you out on fancy dates and gifting you jewellery and flowers. He may seem smooth but he usually has to ask people (Kouyou) or the internet for advice on how to win someone's affections. He's also very observant to what you're interested in, so if you mention preferring movies to fancy dinners, that's where your next date will be.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Yes, but in a good way. Instead of being his 'tough executive' persona, when he's around you, he'll reveal a much sweeter and softer side of himself. He's also surprisingly affectionate, taking every opportunity to be as close to you as possible.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Chuuya doesn't generally plan out punishment, he tends to go into a fit of rage and attack you with whatever is nearest. Usually it results in you being choked, slammed repeatedly against the floor or him almost breaking your ribs with his foot. Once he's calmed down is when he will decide on a proper punishment, such as keeping you restrained to the bed, taking away certain privileges or maybe if you've really done something bad... a more permanent solution will be used.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

As long as his darling was relatively compliant, Chuuya's only real restriction would be the ability to go outside alone without the safety of his watchful eye. Of course, if you betrayed his trust, any hint of freedom you had previously would be stripped away.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Chuuya tries to be patient, he really does, but he's just so hotheaded that he often ends up snapping at his darling whenever they act up in the slightest.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

To put it simply: no. No one else can make Chuuya feel this way, and without his wonderful darling, he feels distanced from the world. It is likely he would continue working for the Port Mafia (unless they were involved in your escape/death), a mere shell of his former self only existing to serve the mafia rather than actually living.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Chuuya would feel a small amount of guilt if he had to kidnap you, but his belief that it's necessary for your protection would overrule the guilt. He would absolutely never let you go, you're like the anchor that keeps him human; he cannot lose you.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Like Dazai, Chuuya feels almost inhuman, like he is a foreigner in someone else's body, yet when he brushed hands with you, he felt something real. This is what drives him to get to know you: the desperation to be human. The more he spends time with you, the more this feeling increases — leading him to be unable to just allow you to leave him. Ironically, he becomes less human the more time he devotes to you.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Chuuya really doesn't like seeing you upset, and it hurts his heart having to punish you when you're so upset, but some things are just a necessary evil. If you've done something he considers to be really bad, he will be apathetic to your tears, believing you deserve whatever you're suffering.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Unlike a lot of yanderes, Chuuya does respect your boundaries to a degree, and won't force you to do anything you really protest against (aside from letting you go, of course).

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Chuuya has to leave for work nearly everyday, so if you're smart and able to break locks, you have a fairly good chance of escaping. However, even if you do escape, Chuuya will find you again, and he won't take the betrayal lightly.

Wit's end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Chuuya has a pretty short temper, especially when it comes to the safety of his darling, so if you persistently tried to escape or "put yourself in danger" (interacting with Dazai, refusing food), he may snap. As stated previously, he doesn't enjoy your pain, but sometimes it's necessary to get you to listen.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Despite his sometimes arrogant nature, Chuuya sees his darling as on an entirely separate level to himself. He practically worships you, though he doesn't always like to show it (he's got to keep up his tough guy persona after all) and would gladly do anything you asked. His loyalty to you is even able to override his loyalty to the Port Mafia.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

Chuuya would make an effort to woo you, buying you flowers and taking you out on fancy dinners, hoping that you'll end up wanting to be in a relationship with him. He'll vehemently deny being so desperate to be with you, but it's pretty obvious he's hopelessly in love. If you were to continuously reject his advances, he may eventually end up kidnapping you, but only if he thought you were in danger (or that another person was making a move on you).

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

If he did end up breaking you, it wouldn't be intentional. All Chuuya wants is your unconditional love and affection, but he can get desperate if you're not showing it and will make you say how much you love him, even if you have to be put through hell to achieve it.

1K notes · View notes

ephyla · 4 years ago

Text

March of Dragons ‘21 : Fan content prompt: Flying Free

Flying Free

WARNING: Violence

So, this prompt gave me the idea of how Astrid met Axewing. He’s a dragon that appears in the Rise of Berk game. I find this dragon absolutely beautiful and who doesn’t like a dragon with wings that act like axes? That dragon suits Astrid perfectly, after Stormfly of course.

I couldn’t help myself, I had to add a pinch of Hiccstrid at the end because I love them so much.

Enjoy!

oOo

Astrid was on night patrol duty tonight. It was supposed to be the twins’ turn but Tuffnut has gotten himself injured during their last raid against the dragon hunters. She volunteered to take their place. Unlike Snotlout or Fishlegs, she enjoyed patrols to have some time to herself and would take any opportunity to fly with Stormfly. They were a match made in Valhalla; a pair of warriors with a sense of duty to match.

She scouted all the areas and ticked them off her map, completing her round. Normally, she would be flying back to her hut and get a good night's sleep so she can wake up early and train her stealth skills with Stormfly. Tonight, however, she felt the need to remain in the sky a little while longer. She patted her dragon’s head, gaining her attention. She seemed to be happy gliding through the sky. They were blessed with a warm night, a clear sky, and a full moon; one would be a fool to remain indoors.

“What do you say we take a small detour and enjoy this beautiful night a bit more girl?” Her Nadder squawked in reply, as in to say yes.

Stormfly changed the course of her direction and headed north, opposite from where the Edge was. The gang rarely ventured north, they would’ve but the war against the hunters was most often waging south, not letting them have too much time on their hands to explore much anymore. Saving the dragons and getting rid of the hunters were their main priorities. Occasionally, to save themselves from being overworked and from the constant fear of a new attack, they would go into small groups to explore the nearby islands close to the edge; unless they have a breakthrough with the Dragon Eye, revealing a new species.

The pair were flying over a couple of islands they’ve already discovered before. They practiced some tricks that could be used in battle, but they were also having fun. They started to let their guards down a bit, fully aware that the hunters rarely treaded those waters...Rarely...

Stormfly stiffened, her quills stood upright. Astrid observed the area, fully trusting in her dragon’s instincts. She sensed danger in one of the two islands in proximity.

“What is it, girl?” Before Stormfly could react, a loud roar resounded at the large island to their left. The Nadder waited for her friend’s orders, ready to defend her at a moment’s notice.

Astrid took out her spyglass to observe the island and frowned. She spotted two ships with the hunters’ insignia. She looked back and knew she was too far from the Edge for a distress call. Not only that, but it would also alert the hunters of a rider’s presence. Right now, she had to assess the situation and only had the element of surprise as an advantage.

“Let’s go Stormfly. We need to be as stealthy as possible for now.” She said as she patted her dragon’s shoulder. She made a noise of acknowledgment and flew in the direction of the distressed dragon.

They made sure they weren’t spotted as they landed close to the source of the sound. They moved within the bushes as Astrid counted the number of hunters. The roars were getting louder but were followed by the hunters’ yells, tormenting the poor dragon. Astrid couldn’t identify it by the sound it made, meaning it was either an undiscovered dragon or a dragon she rarely saw. Curiosity took over and signalled Stormfly to stay still and lay low, to which she complied, eyeing her trainer’s surroundings.

Astrid got closer to the last bush coverage and delicately separated the leaves to spy on the little clearing within the thick forest. Her eyes widened at the sight. The dragon wasn’t just an ordinary dragon. It was a titanwing Timberjack. It donned the radiant red and yellow colours of autumn. The moonlight reflecting on those vibrant scales. She couldn’t imagine how mesmerising would that dragon be under the sunlight, flying high above the clouds. It was beautiful.

A whipping sound resonated followed by the Timberjack’s agonising cries. Astrid frowned at the hunters’ cruelty. The dragon had chains wrapped around his snout, neck, and tail, keeping him grounded. She noticed a couple of dragonroot arrows stuck in his side, but it seemed that being a titanwing helped him not succumb completely to its effects in one shot. She reached behind her back and grab her axe’s handle, ready to attack.

Before she was able to do anything, the Timberjack frenziedly struggled, his razor-sharp wings cutting all the trees in proximity, some falling on the hunters. She saw in the corner of her eye Stormfly dashing towards her, projecting her in the clearing. Astrid landed ungraciously in front of the Timberjack, who suddenly stopped to look at the peculiar Viking.

Astrid got up and looked back at Stormfly and saw her crushed under a large tree. The same tree that was going to land on her. Her heart wrenched. Stormfly just saved her life.

“Stormfly!” She ran towards her dragon but was surrounded by some of the hunters. She took a battle stance and gripped her axe as if her life depended on it.

“Kill ‘er!” She heard.

An arrow flew towards her but she managed to parry it with her blade. She launched an attack, slicing her axe across one of the hunter’s chest. A couple of arrows flew towards her again, and used the injured hunter as a shield, killing him. When the hunters at the back had to reload their crossbows, Astrid saw an opportunity to launch herself towards the sword-wielding hunters with a battle cry that made them look at her in fear.

She was trained her whole life to kill dragons, she was always first in her class until Hiccup showed the tribe a brighter future. A couple of hunters wasn’t going to faze her. She was a fearless warrior, while she depended on the rest of the riders to watch her back during their many raids, she was very capable of fighting on her own.

She parried the many swords coming for her, never letting them have the upper hand, and slashed through the mass with ferocious dedication.

The riders did their best to not directly kill unless necessary. They didn’t enjoy having their hands soiled in blood, especially Hiccup and Fishlegs. They were too soft-hearted, always trying to find another solution to their problems. Astrid, however, doesn’t hesitate. If a loved one was in danger, she will not back down from an enemy and isn’t afraid to slice them down with her trusty axe. She is fiercely loyal like that. It doesn’t mean she enjoys it, but she will handle the guilt and nightmares without any qualms if it meant that she doesn’t get to see the people she loves die because of her hesitance.

With some of the hunters out of her way, she managed to create a passage towards Stormfly. She tried to lift the tree, but it was obvious from the start that she needed the strength of ten Vikings to be able to do so.

“Yer not goin’ anywhere little girl.” One of the hunters sneered at her as another wave approached her. “Nice of ye to bring us another dragon though, Viggo will surely be pleased.” He said as he looked at Stormfly.

Astrid wiped some blood off her forehead and stood in front of Stormfly, ready to defend her with her life. She was covered in blood, mostly from those scums, but she could feel the stinging from a couple of shallow cuts. It wasn’t enough to deter her as she glared at the approaching enemy. She quickly stole a glance at the Timberjack, who laid still as a rock. It was observing her with curiosity. It looked like it didn’t associate her with his tormenters. Clever boy. Her eyes went back to the hunters. Some of them released the chains to provide backup as they seemingly couldn’t bring one Viking warrior down.

“Bring it on.” She jeered at them.

They all charged at her. Astrid managed to avoid their attacks and sent a coupled of them to the ground, ending them with an accurate slice to the throat or a classic chop to the skull. The hunters were heavy on their feet and attacked clumsily. While she was alone, Astrid was quick on her feet, all her moves were calculated; she looked like she was dancing on the battlefield, avoiding a sword here and parrying a rogue arrow there. She never let the hunters land a fatal blow. Her focus was impeccable.

It wasn’t until she heard Stormfly’s distressed cried that she lost her focus. She turned around to look at her and saw a hunter approaching the vulnerable Nadder. Astrid was knocked to the ground, dropping her axe in the process. A heavy boot on her chest held her to the ground. She squirmed and tried to pry the leg off, but she wasn’t strong enough. She looked at the hunter and glared at him with all her might. If she was going to die, she will not die with fear written on her face. She was a warrior through and through and stared at Death in the eye, challenging it.

A strident cry distracted her and the hunter above her. Astrid suddenly felt the weight being lifted from her chest, letting her breathe properly again. The Timberjack managed to partially free himself from the chains since less hunters were holding him down. With a quick swipe of his tail, he knocked the men down as well as the large trunk that crushed Stormfly.

Astrid rushed towards her dragon and looked for injuries. Unfortunately, the Nadder seemed to have a broken leg from the impact and she sported a couple of scratches all over her body. Astrid lovingly caressed her beak.

“I’m so sorry girl, I should’ve paid attention.” Stormfly nuzzled her as if to say it wasn’t her fault.

“Thank you for saving my life, I owe you one.” She hugged her tightly, rubbing her nose against her warm scales. The Nadder purred.

A series of yelling brought Astrid back to reality. She looked at the source of the noise and her eyes widened. The hunters have grown in numbers, probably back up from the ships. She desperately looked at the Timberjack struggling to set himself free from the new invasion back to her injured dragon.

“Stormfly, you need to go back to the Edge, get back up.” Stormfly croaked and nuzzled her. She didn’t want to leave her friend here. “Please Stormfly. This is our only chance for all of us to survive. Do you trust me?” Astrid asked as she raised her hand towards her dragon, she felt the gentle touch of her beak. The rider smiled at her Nadder, giving her a quick hug, silently thanking her.

“Go.” Stormfly took off with difficulty, flying back as fast as she could. Astrid thanked the Gods that her dragon didn’t get her wings or tail too injured.

She turned around and dashed towards her axe, avoiding more arrows. She looked at the Timberjack, hoping it would look at her. To get out of here alive, she needed his complete trust. To her luck, his eyes landed back on her. She nodded at him, almost trying to signal him something before dashing towards the hunters holding the chains. She knocked them down one by one, they were easier to kill as their hands were holding the chains.

The Timberjack felt the grip loosen up and checked the Viking warrior’s surroundings. He spotted a line of archers aiming at her. He swiftly swiped his wings at the tree behind the archers, cutting them down in one fell swoop, sending the large trees tumbling down on the helpless archers.

Astrid ran closer to the dragon and beckoned him to lower his head, which he did, trusting the girl to help him. She pried the chains off his snout, hoping he had enough firepower to get rid of the remaining hunters. The dragon noticed some men rushing towards them, he did not hesitate to finally use his fire to burn them and deter the ones reimaging on the side-line. They didn’t look so tough anymore. Losing to a chained dragon and a girl with an axe was a major hit to their egos. They had all the advantages on their side and yet they were helpless. Viggo was not going to be happy.

The Timberjack nudged Astrid with its snout. She looked at him, he didn’t seem to have an aggressive personality, which is probably one of the reasons he was captured in the first place. She raised her hand towards him and let him close the gap between them. She heard him purr.

“You’re absolutely extraordinary.” She said, her eyes filled with wonder. The dragon seemed to like her from the start and hoped he liked her enough to let her climb onto his back.

“Yer not getting away with our prize, girl.” She heard an annoying voice sneer. She rolled her eyes and turned around. The remaining hunters regrouped and were ready for another round. Astrid was already tired after fighting alone and she assumed the Titanwing was too. She glanced back at him and then at his flank where two arrows were sticking out. She hastily grabbed the arrows, looking at the dragon for confirmation. He just stared at her, not doing anything. She considered this enough and pulled. The dragon roared in pain but didn’t attack her. She was surprised at how fast he trusted her despite having a bad time with humans. She just hoped he trusted her enough for her to climb on his back. They were tired and outnumbered and their best option is to fly away from this wretched place.

Astrid placed her hands on his shoulders, ready to jump on, but the Timberjack was a smart one and lowered himself enough for her to climb on with ease. He spread his wings and took off with a bit of difficulty, probably due to his injuries. Astrid held on tight as he cut through the surrounding trees, falling on some unfortunate hunters. With a mighty beat of his broad wings, they flew towards the sky, finally free.

While they enjoyed nesting in forests, Timberjacks were known for flying at a considerably high altitude, to which Astrid wasn’t accustomed to with Stormfly. She felt a colder wind blow through her hair, her cheeks reddened, but she didn’t feel the cold. The dragon produced great heat underneath her as compensation and she felt completely at ease sitting on a wild dragon. It wasn’t often that she rode a dragon that wasn’t her Nadder, it felt strange. While she had to constantly lean forward and keep ahold of her saddle as a Nadder’s back curves downwards, the Timberjack didn’t have legs pulling itself down, keeping a straight back in flight. Astrid had more stability and his gigantic wings, bare of spines provided more room for her to sit. She felt the powerful beat of his wings as they soared majestically through the air. She felt so light. She felt free.

Astrid spread her arms, savouring the cool air, and let out a laugh as the dragon playfully cut through the clouds for fun.

“Oh my Gods, this is amazing! You’re amazing!” She blissfully shouted, giving the dragon a pat. “What I wouldn’t give to have wings acting as axes.” She joked. Her eyes widened, “Hey, that’s what I’ll call you. Axewing! How about that?” Axewing let out a shrill roar, expressing his approval. Astrid laughed again. “A fitting name for a warrior. Gods, for a moment I thought we were done for.” She admitted.

They soared for a while, enjoying their newly found freedom. Despite not knowing each other for very long, Astrid knew that she found a connection with this dragon. Of course, Stormfly will always be her dragon soulmate, her best friend, but she saw a fighting spirit in him that reminded her of Stormfly. She was sure they would get along great.

Suddenly, she heard the familiar strident whistling sound of a fast-approaching Night Fury. Toothless blended with the dark sky, so she was thankful that Hookfang was accompanying him, he was easier to spot thanks to his fire-coated scales illuminating the sky. Astrid beckoned Axewing to fly down and join them as the riders haven’t spotted her from up high.

They blocked their paths, forcing them to abruptly stop. The riders’ eyes widened as they saw who was riding the Titanwing Timberjack.

“What took you so long?” Astrid mused.

“Astrid! You’re okay!” Hiccup exclaimed; relief evident in his voice. “We were so worried something bad happened to you when Stormfly came back without you and a broken leg.”

“How is she?” She asked, a worried look etched on her face.

“Fishlegs is tending to her. He said she’ll be fine as long as we keep an eye on her recovery.” Hiccup answered. Astrid let out a relieved sigh.

“Ugh, by the way, who’s this and why are you covered in blood?” Snotlout pointed at the Timberjack and then back at the bloodstained Viking warrior.

Astrid patted her new friend, “That’s Axewing, and long story short we ran into a large group of hunters capturing this poor fella, I’ll explain more to you once we’re back at the Edge.” She nudged Axewing to resume their flight back home, Hiccup and Snotlout following on their tail.

Astrid turned around and asked, “By the way, how did you find me without Stormfly?”

“I saw you flying north while I was on a flight with Toothless. We’ve flown there a couple of times in the past and there aren’t a lot of islands nearby, so our best bet to find you was to check them all.” Her betrothed responded. Astrid nodded, facing forward again.

“Hey, Astrid?” She saw Hiccup guide Toothless next to her in the corner of her eye. She looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “I’m glad you’re safe.” She smiled at him and nodded, still gazing at his beautiful green eyes.

“Ugh, enough eye-fucking already. I’m still here, do you have no sense of decency? Gods!” Snotlout’s voice resonated from behind the couple, who simply ignored him.

oOo

I don’t know if it completely fits the prompt, but that’s the idea I had. Hope you liked it!

#marchofdragons21 #Astrid Hofferson #httyd #rtte #fanfic #hiccstrid #stormfly #axewing #badasstrid #Hiccup Haddock #snotlout #fandom prompts

9 notes · View notes

kayokos-villain-imagines · 5 years ago

Note

SFW Alphabet with Atsuhiro UwU?^^

// Sorry I haven’t been posting a lot, I’ll post more in the summer 😓. //

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Atsuhiro’s not the clingy-affectionate type, but he’s affectionate nonetheless. He shows affection by spending time with you and attending to your needs, both things he is reluctant to do for anyone else.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Atsuhiro’s the second most aloof in the league (after Stabi Dabi), so it’s kinda hard to platonically get close to him. That being said, it is possible, as long as you show the right amount of interest in a friendship (not too much, not too little), and always act impressed with his tricks. He’s the type of best friend who’ll never come out and admit how close you are, but nobody better dare lay a finger on you.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He’s not fond of feeling vulnerable, but Atsuhiro does enjoy sitting with you pressed into his side and an arm draped around your shoulders.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He likes the excitement of his life, but he does want to settle down, eventually. He can cook and clean pretty well, but can be stubborn if someone asks him to.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He’s tell them up front, and give them justifiable reasons why the relationship isn’t working. He’d expect the same of anyone who wants to break up with him.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

It takes a bit to earn his full trust, but Atsuhiro is not fickle. You may end up dating him for well over a year, but he’ll definitely realize that you’re the one.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

In both respects Atsuhiro’s not careless with you, but he’s not overprotective. He’ll be fairly honest with you, even if it hurts your feelings, but he’d never be cruel to you and he’ll always reassure you that it’s going to be okay.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He’s not opposed to hugs, but Atsuhiro isn’t clingy, either. He’ll hug you on special occasions, if you’re upset, or is he just feels the need to, but that’s about it. He won’t refuse a hug from you, though. His hugs are typically brief and formal, if that makes sense. Long hugs only happen if you’re crying, or you refuse to let go. He won’t push you away.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Atsuhiro is surprisingly slow to say it. He doesn’t really not say it, he’ll just avoid saying “I love you” for a while. The reason for this is rather sweet; he needs to know for sure that you’re the one before giving you his whole heart.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Never gets jealous. Even if you’re intentionally flirting with other guys, he’ll just laugh it off. If he ever did get jealous, you’d never know, since all he’d do is sweep you off your feet with a passionate kiss to determine if you’re still loyal.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

The master of kisses (unless you’re super into french kissing, in which case *looks over at Stain*). Lip kisses are usually reserved for private settings, but he loves giving ear, neck, forehead, nose, and cheek kisses in public to see how you react.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Ehhhhh…. Atsuhiro doesn’t hate kids, and he’s not reckless with them, but he doesn’t like kids and wouldn’t want to take care of any (until you’re giving birth and he holds his kid for the first time and he realizes he’s in love, but that’s a story for another time). To put it simply, Atsuhiro can handle childcare if absolutely necessary, but neither party is likely to enjoy the experience much.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Atsuhio gets up fairly early, but he’ll always give you a kiss on the forehead before he goes downstairs. He has an almost psychic ability to sense when you’ve awakened, so he’ll come back in to say good morning.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Atsuhiro has a fairly steady sleep schedule. He goes to bed not too early, but not too late, and usually falls asleep around the same time every night (unless Shigaraki needs him for something). This means that you’ll be falling asleep alone if you go to bed earlier than him.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Unsurprisingly, Atsuhiro is very secretive about his personal life. As previously mentioned, it takes him a while to fully trust you, but he’ll try not to keep secrets once he’s deemed you as trustworthy. He still has difficulty being fully honest with you about some things, but he really does try.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Atsuhiro is very patient. He has a pretty good sense of your emotions and how you react to things, so he’ll know when you’re upset with him versus anything else.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing or do they kind of forget everything?)

He remembers just about everything he’d ever need to know to date you. He never passes up a chance to show it off and impress you, either.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

It would probably be the day he fully opened up to you. It was the same day he realized he’d be with you for a very long time.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He’s not overprotective, per se, but he won’t hesitate to protect you in a dangerous situation by putting himself in between you and the danger. He won’t show much fear or worry in the moment, but it’s easy to tell that something’s off.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Atsuhiro loves to show off and impress you, so he puts all the effort he can into everything he does, while making it all seem easy. Whether he’s planning an elaborate date night or just doing some of your chores, your grateful expression brings a smile to his face.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He has a habit of keeping secrets from you/not telling you things. He doesn’t mean to, he’s just grown used to not keeping people close. He’ll try to change if you call him out on it, but the problem will only get worse if you don’t.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Atsuhiro is pretty comfortable with his looks, and he doesn’t particularly dislike any part of himself. Until Season 4, that is. It takes time and patience getting used to a prosthetic, and sometimes even he gets frustrated with it. Having you there to support and encourage him would really help his progress.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

More than he would expect. He’s so used to being independent that he’s surprised when he misses you while he’s gone on missions, or if you ever separate.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Atsuhiro secretly wants a pet. His parents never let him have anything besides fish, so he’d kind of like having something else. He’d never tell anyone, though, so you’d have to find that out for yourself.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Not necessarily something he wouldn’t like, but Atsuhiro cannot be with someone as proud and flashy as he is, or the relationship won’t progress well. Other than that, he also wouldn’t like a partner who is mean to the other members of the League. He cares about them, even if he’d never admit that.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Atsuhiro is a light sleeper, and he wakes up a lot during the night. Your voice helps put him to sleep.

|ω･)ﾉ

#atsuhiro sako #sako atsuhiro x reader #mr compress #bnha mr compress

70 notes · View notes

carelessgraces · 3 years ago

Text

@clpdwings said: five times of not getting along and one time they did for kaz! ( five times | accepting )

one.

The first time she meets Kaz Brekker, really meets him, she’s sporting a bite mark on her neck that he will not stop staring at.

Per Haskell sits at his desk, repeating the intelligence she’d brought back with her, and Kaz is listening, she knows, but he’s staring so intently at the bruise on her throat, almost as if he’s counting the individual teeth left visible in the mark, that she feels naked. It’s a strange sort of self-consciousness, one she rarely feels these days, a hangover from an adolescence spent in Fjerda. Astoria rubs a mindless hand over the mark, forcing her eyes back to Per Haskell.

He’s finished by now, and is looking at Kaz expectantly. The Barrel has taken some getting used to; Ketterdam is so alien to her, with its constant noise and bustle, tourists and students littering the streets, merchants and buskers in a constant battle for attention. The city is never quiet, not properly quiet. Djerholm had been bustling, but not like this, didn’t smell so obviously of piss and liquor and sweat when she walked down the streets — which were wider, much less crowded. She couldn’t hear the sounds of jingling coins in a fool’s pockets and rutting in back alleys and fistfights every few blocks.

She loves it.

The men are different, too. No one holds a door open for her unless they’re trying to impress her; no one rushes to gather something heavy from her arms and carry it for her; when she wears something cut low, no one bothers to avert their eyes. And Kaz is the strangest of them all: dressed like some unholy mimicry of a merchant, the cut of his clothes always sharp, something at once unremarkable enough to escape notice and flattering enough to distract the eye. She had been attracted to him for about five minutes after the first she saw him, until she saw that venomous glare, and then she’d been too uneasy to think of it again.

And now his eyes are on her neck, not with any sort of interest or desire but as if he’s estimating just how much force would be needed to break the skin and rip her throat out with his teeth should the need ever arise. It isn’t the potential for violence in him that frightens her so much as it is that she doubts he would be bothered by it, unless he spilled her blood on that pristine collar.

Kaz drags his gaze to Per Haskell, considering for a long moment before he says, “And we can trust her?”

“I spent eight months with him,” Astoria says, hand moving to her neck again. “He’s said plenty.”

“Yes,” Kaz drawls, “men say plenty when they’re trying to keep a woman in their bed, but that doesn’t mean it’s always true. Especially if that woman is openly affiliated with his rivals. Unless you think you’re the first pretty little fool too clever to be caught?”

“And men tell the truth when they’re flattered into believing that they’ve become the new center of a pretty little fool’s world.” Per Haskell had warned her about this, that Kaz could be infuriating, that Kaz would find her insecurities and vulnerabilities in a moment’s time and that he would poke and poke and poke just to see how far she could be pushed. She had smiled and said that she’d be on the lookout for it, but even now with it staring her in the face, she can’t help but rise to the bait.

Kaz gives her a withering look that feels almost like a slap across the face. “And what makes you think that he wasn’t trying to draw you in in the same way?”

“That’s exactly what he’s trying to do. But I’m doing it better, and we know because it’s my intel that saved you almost a million kruge this year alone, and everything I’ve told him has been calculated into that. Acceptable losses.”

He looks back to Per Haskell for confirmation, and Per Haskell nods. “You have your spider,” he says, “and I have mine.”

The comparison seems almost to offend Kaz, who looks Astoria over with a lip curled in distaste. Finally, he stands, one hand on his cane, the other held out for the papers on Per Haskell’s desk.

“Then if it’s good intel, we’ll handle it.”

“Yes, you will.” It’s a firm command, as if a reminder — the Dregs are my crew, boy, not yours. Astoria nearly shivers at that, but Kaz doesn’t react except to fold the papers and tuck them into his jacket.

Kaz spares a last glance toward her, eyes flickering down to her right forearm. “She has the crow and cup?” he asks Per Haskell.

“Yes,” Astoria snaps, “and you can speak to her directly.”

Beside her, Per Haskell shakes his head, amused by the bickering. He stands, resting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing lightly.

“Take Astoria with you — she’s useful in close quarters.”

“I don’t think we’ll need her on her back for this one.”

“He preferred me on top,” Astoria offers sweetly, though she’s glaring daggers, and Per Haskell only laughs.

“She’s Grisha. Good in a fight. Take her, just in case, and make sure Elzinger can see that bite. He’ll have a hell of a time explaining all of this to Geels.”

Kaz’s eyes fall on Astoria again, and he sighs, gesturing toward the door. Per Haskell taps her lightly on the back, an indication for her to do as she’s told — and, like a good little soldier, she obeys.

two.

She needs to practice her pickpocketing.

She’s functional, but occasionally clumsy, more reliant upon misleading a mark than nimble fingers. Per Haskell had pointed her to Kaz, much to both’s dismay, no doubt in an attempt to make them learn to work together. She’d sulked outside Per Haskell’s office when he’d told Kaz, and caught snippets of the conversation whenever Haskell moved too close to the door. ...useful for more than just securing shipments. I have another TIdemaker I can send to Novyi Zem, but you should learn to... if you like her or not, but I don’t want to waste an asset... your spider can only do so much at once and I have a perfectly useful one.

Per Haskell had opened the door at that, bringing an end to the discussion, and Kaz wasted no time in leaving the office. She could read the disdain in every line of his face, and it had almost amused her that the great Kaz Brekker had deigned to reveal his thoughts, all on her behalf. He’d stopped, looked at her, and then jerked his head irritably, gesturing for her to follow. She’d cast a despairing look at Per Haskell, who’d clapped her on the shoulder.

“Do what you’re told, girl,” he said, though there was no real heat in his voice, and Astoria obeyed before he could get angry with her.

Which is why she’s with Kaz now, trying to pay attention to what he’s telling her and failing miserably, caught up in the oppressive heat of Ketterdam’s so-called spring and her own self-indulgent misery. She’s managed to pick Jesper’s pockets, only because Jesper was being kind, and a few strangers; no one’s caught her as she’s done it, but Kaz has been able to point out every movement, every gesture, no matter how crowded the space between them or how far away he stands.

And if she must deal with him, then she will, at least, annoy him. Astoria toys with her own gloves — lace, covering her fingers and only part of her hand, the height of Ketterdam’s most recent shift in fashion and bought with, yes, pickpocketed money, thank you very much — and she lets out a hum. “Do you dislike all of Per Haskell’s indentures, or am I lucky?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Ooh, is it Grisha you have a problem with? That would be foolish, for you, to carry on a prejudice like that, especially when you know how valuable we are.”

Still nothing, though he’s starting to look as though he’s considering throwing her off the edge of the harbor when they get there.

“See, with all your judgment about Elzinger, I figured it was one of two things. First, that you want to fuck me yourself, and were bitter that you weren’t, but that was easy enough to rule out. Would have been very funny to me, though, if that’s all it was. Typical, nonsensical jealousy would have been beneath you.”

“How flattering,” he says dryly, but she pushes forward as though she doesn’t hear him.

“Second, you wish you’d thought of it yourself. Isolating Elzinger as a weak link and exploiting it by any means necessary. But I did it first, and it made you look slow on the uptake, and it gave Per Haskell a chance to catch up to you a bit.”

“You’ve found me out,” he drawls, monotonous. “I only wish it had been me to spread my legs for Elzinger, and now our love can never be.”

“Prude.”

“Heartbroken.”

Saints’ asses, he’s funny. She never would have guessed. Astoria lets out another little hum, and she folds her hands together primly, the very image of a respectable lady with her lace gloves and the high neck of her blouse and the careful curl of her hair. “There’s really no reason we shouldn’t get along.”

“Did you join the Dregs looking for friends, little runaway?”

“Absolutely. At night I go home to the Slat and I weep because not enough of you like me.”

“I think,” he says, and the worst part of it is that he says it so casually, as though he’s observing something unimportant and not peeling back every layer of armor she’s tried to build around herself, “you joined so that someone would be able to identify your body when you got yourself killed. You’re reckless. You’re half-suicidal. You want there to be consequences to someone else killing you, hence the indenture agreement — ” So he’s seen it. She’s not sure how to feel about that. ” — but you’re desperate to die for something. It makes you a liability. Learn how to survive this place or do us all a favor and stop wasting our time.”

He points to a couple, Ravkan tourists chattering excitedly, and he looks back at Astoria as though he hasn’t just torn up every last secret she’s ever kept.

“Them. Do it right, this time.”

They do it again, and again, until Kaz is satisfied enough to leave her be.

It’s not safe to walk the West Stave alone at night but she does it anyway; her anger at Kaz is enough to push her forward, though she can’t quite articulate why it infuriates her so much, to be laid bare before him in this way. She’d studied the Dregs before approaching them, and had chosen them specifically; she could have had it easy, with Pekka Rollins — no need to change her hair — and even the Black Tips or the Razorgulls would have taken her and found a good use for her.

But she’d chosen the Dregs for a reason — she’d chosen the Dregs in no small part because Kaz’s name was on everyone’s lips. Dirtyhands. Bastard of the Barrel. A monster, a demon, a creature out of nightmare. The sort of man you want willing to protect you. And there’s something horribly shameful about being seen without any sympathy, though she’s starting to wonder if she deserves any sympathy, or if he’s right.

Learn how to survive this place or do us all a favor and stop wasting our time.

She feels Elzinger’s hand on her shoulder. The night is humid and sticky and she almost feels as though she’s swimming; there’s no jacket protecting her, only the layer of her shirt to cut through, and then his knife is in her, and deep, piercing into her body just below her right kidney. He pulls the knife out; her ears are ringing, there’s something warm rushing down her back and she recognizes it only vaguely as her own blood, and he says something she can’t quite catch, and he hears Kaz Brekker.

Learn how to survive this place or do us all a favor and stop wasting our time.

She twists her right arm to press her hand over the wound, and with a twitch of her fingers the blood begins to slow and clot. She reaches out with her left arm until she’s grabbed Elzinger’s face, and she pulls him close enough to kiss.

Learn how to survive this place.

She grins when she feels the flesh blister beneath her hands, and she tips her head to the side, and she squeezes as tightly as she can. “Sweetheart,” she murmurs. “make sure you mean it when you kill a woman,” and she releases his face only when he screams, catching his wrist with her bloodstained hand when he moves to stab her again.

When she releases him she shoves him back, watching with satisfaction as he raises his shaking hands to his face to feel the extent of his burns. Just a little bit, not enough to kill, but certainly enough to leave a mark. She’s not sure what boiling only a little blood only a little bit does to a body, but she’s intrigued to find out. She’ll have to keep an eye on him. Astoria peels off her bloodied gloves and drops them in Elzinger’s lap, and she leaves him there without another word.

Survive, says Kaz, and for a moment she wishes he could see her.

three.

“Matthias tells me you told him not to come for me.”

“I did.”

“But you knew he’d come for me anyway.”

He doesn’t answer. She doesn’t know whether to thank him or scream.

“Damn it, Brekker.”

“You’re too eager to die.”

“It’s not about dying.”

“Dress it up however you want, call it selflessness and loyalty and love, but you’re still useless dead.”

It’s the closest she thinks he’ll ever come to anything resembling a kind word to her, and she’s horrified to find that she’s moved by it. Her voice sounds unsteady, almost wet, when she speaks.

“I know. I know that.” What else is there to say? She’s working on it? She’d thought she’d moved past it, but here she is, trying to sort through why she’s so shocked to have lived through Fjerda, when she’d promised herself once that Fjerda would never have the privilege of taking her life?

“It’s enough. Come back to Ketterdam willing to survive or don’t bother coming back.”

She’s never hated anyone more in her life. She would be lost without him.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

He lets out a snort, turning his back to her. “Apologize to Helvar,” he says as he walks away. “He’s the one who had to come get you.”

( But, she thinks, maybe Kaz would have come for her, too. )

four.

How did he handle things?

“Very well, sir. Better than I might have expected. He was calm and levelheaded throughout.” ( She doesn’t mention the dangerous panic on the Ferolind, when they thought they would lose Inej. ) “He kept to the plan without hesitation, and when he had to improvise, he did it effectively.” ( She doesn’t mention how often the plan fell through and they had to come up with something new on the spot, or how dangerous it was for her, in particular. ) “He works well leading a team. He was very receptive to our concerns.” ( She doesn’t mention the Ferolind. )

Did he have any trouble with one of mine going with him?

“Not at all. He was understandably cautious to introduce a new element into a functional team’s dynamic, but he understood the necessity of having someone there to represent your interests.” ( She doesn’t mention that the functional team is an inner circle that extends beyond Kaz’s precious Wraith, that the functional team could easily topple Per Haskell’s control of the Dregs, or that she’d help them. ) “There was no trouble beyond the initial adjustment period, and even that was mild.” ( She doesn’t mention that Kaz threatened to throw her overboard. )

Kaz is waiting for her when she’s finished with Per Haskell, and he greets her with a huff of humorless laughter. “Do you have to practice lying like that, or does it come naturally?”

“Every morning I wake up, I brush my hair, I lace myself up, and I tell myself ten lies in the mirror until it feels natural. Were you waiting for Per Haskell?”

“No. You. Walk.”

And she does — less because she likes following Kaz’s orders than because she can’t think of a good reason not to. They’re silent until they get out to the floor of the Crow Club, through the patrons and out into the humid night air. When they’re a fair distance from the door, he holds a folded piece of paper between his index and middle fingers for her to take.

“What’s this?”

“I can’t give over more shares while Rollins has any, but once we have them back, a percentage will go to you, as part of your take.”

Astoria looks up at him sharply, taking the paper; when her eyes fall to it she sees that it’s a contract, legalese she barely understands, but there it is, a percentage ( however small ), set aside for her to purchase, once the shares have been bought back from Pekka Rollins. Slowly, her lips curl up in a smile, and when she looks back up at Kaz, she’s sure she looks as pleased as she feels.

“Thank you,” she says, because it’ll be better received than I could kiss you right on that terrible mouth of yours, you glorious little bastard. He lets out a quiet grunt of acknowledgment, though he seems a little wary, as if he can hear the unspoken words in her tone.

“Don’t thank me. We had an agreement, and you carried out your part reliably enough.”

“Careful, Brekker, or I’ll think you’re starting to like me.”

He snorts, raising his eyebrows. “Perish the thought. I’ll need you tonight — we’re sorting out a plan, and I want you there in case Nina isn’t able to do her job.”

Nina. Sweet, vibrant Nina, whose battle with parem seems to have drained the life right out of her; she barely eats, she barely laughs, she barely flirts. ( Astoria has been trying to forget the way Nina lashed out at them all on the Ferolind, in the throes of her withdrawal; she’d brushed off the insults aimed at her, but had heard enough of what was said to the others. There’s some fight in her, at least, and Astoria is grateful for that much. )

“I’m sure she’ll be fine, but yes, of course. I’ll be able to help however you need.” And she pauses, frowning. “Do you think she won’t be able to handle it?”

“I’d rather be prepared than overconfident.”

“Fair enough — but won’t it undermine her confidence, if she knows you have someone there to take over if she’s unsteady?”

“I don’t particularly care about her confidence. I care about the job’s success. If she wants to sort out her feelings, she’s welcome to find a parent or a priest.” Kaz’s expression is inscrutable, as always, though there’s a mocking edge to his voice now, and it makes Astoria clutch the paper harder. So much for starting to like me; he looks at me like I’m a troublesome child he can’t shake. “There’s no winning with you, is there? First you’re sore that you’re not a real part of the team, and now you’re tripping over yourself trying to spare everyone’s feelings when you’re offered the chance.”

“She sacrificed a lot for us, Kaz. I don’t think it’s unreasonable to be a little concerned about her.”

“Mm. The same concern you felt, I’m sure, when you told her to, what was it? Find a way to watch that tongue or I’ll cut it out?”

“That was different.” But her cheeks are hot with shame; she hadn’t been proud of the threat, but it had happened all the same, when the craving for parem doused Nina’s tongue in poison.

“Yes, how could I forget? You were defending your drüskelle’s honor.”

“It’s — ”

“I don’t care. You want in? Earn it. This is how you earn it. Mind your manners, don’t ask stupid questions, and do as you’re told. Be at the Black Veil tonight, by midnight.” The Black Veil?

He turns his back to her and walks away without another word, and Astoria scowls after him — but she grips the contract tighter in her hands, and she makes no plans to argue.

five.

“On one condition.”

Astoria’s eyes flicker towards Nina in surprise; it’s rare someone’s fool enough to try and negotiate with Kaz. It’s not something she’s often willing to try, and she’s the biggest fool of them all.

Kaz drags his gaze to Nina and arches one eyebrow in that infuriating way of his. “This is not a negotiation.”

“Everything is a negotiation with you, Brekker. You probably bartered your way out of the womb. If I’m going to do this, I want us to get the rest of the Grisha out of the city.”

“Forget it. I’m not running a charity for refugees.”

“Then I’m out.”

“Fine. You’re out.” And Astoria knows what’s coming next, Kaz’s dark eyes flickering towards her, ignoring the look of anger on Nina’s face, the way she opens her mouth to argue.

At Astoria’s side, Matthias stiffens, as if anticipating a fight, and Astoria folds a hand carefully over his and squeezes gently.

She hesitates, and then, before he can ask, she clears her throat. “I can do it.” She’s not half so skilled as Nina when it comes to calming the blood, but she can make do. And more than that, there’s a fury building in her at the thought of being chased out of another home, of being hunted again. She knows Kaz well enough by now to know that he can expect to rely on her anger; it is the only thing she has left of her mother, of the girl in the snow, a family heirloom she keeps close to her heart. Nina whips her head around, her expression caught somewhere between anger and betrayal, but Astoria doesn’t look away from Kaz.

“Fine. A distressed Fjerdan, new to the city, looking for work in the warehouse district.”

“Astoria,” Nina warns, and Astoria tears her gaze away from Kaz to look coldly at Nina.

“I’m tired of running, Nina. Aren’t you? How long until someone else comes looking to kill us?” Astoria’s jaw clenches without her noticing, and Matthias turns his hand up under hers to lace their fingers together and squeeze back, as if to try and calm her. She’s just a little too far gone. “How many of those refugees are going to end up Second Army conscripts? Save a few Grisha just to throw them at military conflict, where they’ll, what, die in a nice coat, carrying out a foreign king’s commands?” Carrying on the ever-present war with Fjerda? She’ll rail against her homeland until she draws her last breath, but it makes her no less protective.

“That’s not what it’s about. It’s about saving lives.” Nina’s voice sounds almost dangerous, and Astoria leans forward, Matthias gripping her hand even tighter as she does.

“Enough.” Kaz’s voice cuts clearly through the argument, and he turns his cold eyes on Nina. “You’ll still get your share of the money for your work on the Ice Court job, but I don’t need you on this crew.”

“No,” said Inej quietly. “But you need me.”

And that’s enough to quell the dissent, Inej’s interference and the strength of her unwavering gaze. Nina turns deliberately from Astoria, whose jaw has yet to unclench, and Matthias releases Astoria’s hand in favor of winding an arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer, as if to comfort. She doesn’t escape the way Kaz’s eyes flicker up to them, or the twist of his lips at the sight of Astoria’s continued anger.

“Do you think this makes me a Crow, now?” she murmurs dryly to Matthias in Fjerdan, voice soft enough not to be overheard amidst the conversation, and Matthias lets out a humorless chuckle. “Being willing to turn my back on old friendships for the sake of the great Brekker masterplan?”

“I think that’s the initiation ritual,” Matthias mutters back, and it prompts a smile, at least, her clenched jaw relaxing.

It occurs to her how unbelievably stupid it is to want his approval — demjin, says a voice in her head that sounds like Matthias’, but there’s a fondness there that’s entirely Astoria. In another world, they might have been friends. Here, now, she’s not sure it’ll ever be possible, but the weight of what if hangs in the air around him.

Kaz steps out to get a breath of fresh air, and Astoria follows quietly; he looks as though he expected this, and she leans against the wall of a mausoleum, arms crossed over her chest.

“You couldn’t have known Nina would make that threat. You couldn’t have known about the kidnappings. But it feels like you were prepared for that all the same.”

“I’m prepared for most things.”

“I’m starting to see that.” Astoria hesitates, then — “Jesper’s leaving. Going back to Novyi Zem with his father. Wylan wants out. Nina’s going to want to leave too, if it’s not safe to stay. It’ll be her chance to go back to Ravka and the Second Army. Inej is going to pay off her indenture, isn’t she?”

“If you have questions about what Inej is doing, then you should ask Inej. Am I her keeper?”

Yes. Even she can see how he looks at her, when he thinks no one is looking. She can’t hear heartbeats but she can hear the movement of blood in the body, and it has much the same end result. “Why don’t you expect me to leave?”

“Where will you go? Back to Fjerda, with Helvar in tow? You’ll both be killed within a year. You wouldn’t last in Ravka, either. He’s not going to tolerate the Wandering Isle or Shu Han, when both are so dangerous for you. And you’d get bored in Novyi Zem.”

Damn him, but he’s right.

“No home but this one, pigeon. Where will you go?” he asks again, and Astoria uncrosses her arms, only to fist her hands in her skirt. “You’ll stay in Ketterdam, sell more years to Per Haskell. You might go back to Fjerda once or twice. Helvar loves a mission. But you’ll come back to Ketterdam every time, because you’ve put the Barrel in your blood.”

Why is he always right?

“And what if I’d had a conscience?”

He laughs at that, a sharp, almost feral bark. “Astoria,” he says, and she thinks that might be the first time he’s used her name, “when have you ever cared about someone else more than yourself?”

“The Ice Court.”

“Ah, that’s right. Your drüskelle makes you soft — and if I ever need to ask you to double-cross him, then I’ll worry. But you’d let every Grisha in this city burn if it meant your survival, and no amount of lovesick sacrifice will change that about you. Conscience gets you killed. You’re not that stupid.”

She hates how well he knows her. She hates how well he understands her, in ways no one else could — not Inej, whom she admires; not Jesper, who makes her laugh; not Nina, who hears her; not Wylan, who sees her. Not even Matthias, who loves her.

But Kaz Brekker understands her. Kaz Brekker sees through her. Kaz Brekker could crack open her skull and make a map of her brain, could split open her chest and make a map of her heart, with terrifying clarity. There’s the self-preservation. There’s the selfishness. There’s the ambition. There’s the greed. He’s right; the Barrel is in her blood now, feasting on the foundation of rage her mother had given her when she was just a girl.

She feels exposed. She feels furious. She wants to wrap her hands around his neck. She wants to run as far as she can. She wants to tell him that she is tired of life wearing a choke-chain, but that if anyone must be on the other end of it, she hopes it’s always him. What a mortifying intimacy to share with someone, she thinks, cheeks coloring in the dark, almost like a twisted sort of love. A brother she never imagined, the monster under her childhood bed come to teach her how to shoot straight and pick a man’s pocket.

He watches her impassively for a moment more before turning back toward the crypt. She has to try twice before she can manage to speak.

“I’ll stay,” she says, because of course she’ll stay. “And when the others go, I’ll still be here — but this has to go both ways. You have to be as willing to protect my interests as I am to protect yours.”

He turns back to face her, expression still painfully neutral, and then he says, as easily as if he were giving her directions through the West Stave, “I found your mother. Where she is, the name she’s using, how she’s been. Get us through this and I’ll tell you everything, and not a moment before.”

She lets out a sickly laugh, chokes on it, as he heads back into the mausoleum, and she remains leaned against the wall, fingers pressed to her lips and staring at the sky, until Matthias comes to fetch her.

Nina still won’t look at her. She finds she doesn’t mind it this time.

...and one.

She’s never been so pleased with a broken nose and a gash across her cheek, but there’s some undeniable relief in knowing that, for once, she and Kaz are on the same page.

He’s been watching her closely, and she’d initially chalked it up to his distrust. No doubt looking for any way in which she falters or fumbles. She wonders now if he’d been watching to see if she could do this, if she could be trusted to get them in. If she could handle this, in particular, this greatest fear. Kaz, in his drüskelle uniform, looks as fierce and terrifying as always, but Matthias will draw attention, and that is a danger. ( A danger to all of them, but a danger to him specifically, and it’s become clearer and clearer that she cannot, will not, tolerate such a thing. )

“Anyone have a handkerchief?” she asks pleasantly, and Matthias shakes his head and Kaz raises his eyebrows, and Astoria sighs, because this would be easier with something to muffle the sound. She supposes biting her lip bloody will have to do, and she takes in a deep breath before she wraps her right fist around the middle and ring finger of her left hand and yanks back as hard as she can. The crack of her bone is audible, and Matthias looks as though he might be sick, but Kaz almost looks impressed.

“Feeling theatrical?” he asks dryly, and Astoria, face white with pain and chest heaving, takes in a shaking breath.

“The drüskelle bind our hands so we can’t use our power,” she says, voice strained. “Particularly dangerous drüsje see their hands or fingers broken, so that even if we can manage something without all that gesturing, we’re not a threat. It’s an ever-honorable tradition of giving us a fair shot.”

Kaz listens with the mild interest of someone hearing a weather report, and he only says, “Shame we tailored your hair.”

Matthias almost moves to touch Astoria, but seems to think better of it, and he whirls on Kaz instead. “Do you often strike unarmed women?” he says, his voice nearly a snarl, and Kaz shrugs.

“Less a woman than a weasel,” he says, “and she did ask.”

Weasel. She hasn’t heard that one before. If she didn’t know better, she’d think Kaz was starting to like her. For his part, Matthias looks rather as though he wishes they’d left him in Hellgate, and he takes a few steps away from them and shakes his head as if trying to shake loose his knowledge of what’s to come.

And for a moment, they’re alone, Kaz watching as she tries to tangle her hair with one working hand. A better man might ask if she was sure, might encourage her to be patient until they find another way in. And perhaps there is another way in, but this saves them precious time. ( Hadn’t she realized it, on the Ferolind? Her role was, has been, will be, as a sacrifice. The six of them will make it out, Kaz and his precious Crows, but she thinks there’s some poetry to it. Dying here, as much on her own terms as anything can be. )

Her stomach is turning somersaults but she clears her throat and meets Kaz’s eyes. She wonders, stupidly, if he’ll miss her. She’ll miss him, him and his stupid haircut and his horrible smirk and his cruel hands in their leather gloves, for whatever time she has left. She opens her mouth, but no sound comes out, and she clears her throat to try again.

“Spare me the goodbyes,” Kaz sighs, and Astoria shakes her head.

“Don’t let him come back for me.”

Of all the things Kaz might have been expecting, that doesn’t seem to be on the list, though he only shows it with a raise of his eyebrows.

“It’ll waste time. And wherever they’re taking me, it’s going to be well-guarded, and very, very hard to reach. If he goes in, there’s a very good chance he won’t come back out. Do not let him come back for me. Tell him whatever you have to to make it happen, but — I think you owe me, just this once.” Astoria’s eyes flicker towards Matthias and she knows she softens when she sees him. “If I’m doing this, I need to know he gets out of this godforsaken country alive.”

She expects an outburst like on the Ferolind. She wonders, for a moment, if this is why he’d encouraged her to flirt with Matthias, but that seems a bit much, even for Kaz. When she looks back at him, though, he only nods.

“He’ll make it out,” Kaz says, and she doesn’t push for the words. The deal is the deal. She’s not Kerch anyway; it doesn’t mean much to her. Besides, just this once, she trusts Kaz Brekker to do the right thing.

Matthias returns, a look of grim determination on his face, and he looks towards Astoria. “I cannot change your mind?” he asks, and Astoria shakes her head.

“It’s time.” Kaz’s voice is clear and certain, and Astoria takes in a long, slow breath before she nods.

“It’s time,” she agrees, and she lets them guide her as she takes her last steps.

#clpdwings #clpdwings ( kaz brekker )#(yes this is also a tag drop)#ii. i forgot softness because it did not serve me. ( kaz brekker )#i. here's the truth from my red lips. ( answers )#v. i savor bitterness. it is born of experience. it is the privilege of one who has truly lived. ( grishaverse | ketterdam )#tw: suicidal ideation #(dialogue in number five between kaz - nina - inej taken directly from crooked kingdom)

1 note · View note

hellzyeahwebwielingessays · 5 years ago

Text

Did MJ try to make Spidey retire?

Short answer: Never when she was in character and never unjustifiably!

The number of times I’ve heard people claim this is unbelievable. I’m going to settle this shit once and for all. Feel free to share this with anyone making these claims.

The simplest way to do this would be to run through things chronologically.

Unless anybody can bring up other examples, off the top of my head I can recall only three times before ‘One More Day’ where MJ floated the idea of Peter retiring.

The first time was in ASM #283. However the important context of this is that Peter himself has already resolved to quit as soon as he is done with his latest case involving his friend Flash Thompson.

However further important context is that Peter has resolved to retire even earlier in ASM #275 and in that issue it was MJ (after learning his origin story) who encouraged him to NOT quit.

An issue later she was back to being against his work as Spider-Man.

However, many issues around this era (which was before they got married!) depict MJ flip-flopping on her feelings and the reasons why boil down to her being concerned for Peter’s safety.

At which point why is MJ being out of order in desiring him to retire? She loves this man and doesn’t want him to be hurt but also understands why he does what he does and it’s that fundamental heroism that is a major reason for why she loves him. This is again summed up in Web of Spider-Man #6.

Next up we have an example of when MJ didn’t ask Peter to quit. But people always treat it as though she did so we’re going to address it anyway.

It stems from the clusterfuck that was ‘Maximum Carnage’.

Let’s give you that all-important context.

In Spider-Man Unlimited #1 Pete and MJ are attending Harry Osborn’s funeral. Harry died in chronologically the story right before ‘Maximum Carnage’ so this is a very fresh wound; he died merely days earlier.

Prior to his death, Harry had been waging months of psychological warfare on the Parkers and even tried to kill Peter. His attempt actually almost killed MJ and his own son Normie. During this whole time Harry’s wife (now widow) Liz Allan had been pushed to her wits end too.

As a result Mary Jane is reluctant to talk to Liz.

Also, for months now (starting with Carnage’s debut actually) MJ had taken up smoking to cope with the stress of their lives, chiefly her concern for Peter’s well-being. This topic and her behaviour at the funeral gets raised when they return home.

The talk zeroes in on the risks to Peter’s life and how he and MJ got lucky with Harry. MJ asks Peter to take a break for a week or two.

Not retire permanently.

Not take an indefinite hiatus.

Not even take a break for a month or definitely two weeks.

She literally asks for 7-14 Spider-Man free days so they can de-stress and catch their breaths in the wake of a serious crisis and loss.

Peter promises he will.

Unfortunately Carnage has just broken free of the authorities and formed a gang.

For the sake of argument let’s say MJ doesn’t know much about Carnage’s cronies. She just knows he has back up.

However, she absolutely knows about Carnage.

As his name implies, is an incredibly lethal foe. You know Venom, that guy who’s famous for being a bigger badder version of Spider-Man? Yeah Carnage is an even more powerful version of that guy. Spider-Man one-on-one is physically incapable to defeating him and had to team up with Venom to do it. Even then they actually weren’t strong enough to beat him physically because Carnage is stronger than the pair of them combined!

Making matters worse Carnage’s whole body is extremely durable to injury, with blunt force not being the most effective way of fighting him. His forte is being able to quickly generate a large arsenal of sharp edged weapons from his body; think the T-1000.

This skillset is appropriate given how Carnage prior to obtaining any of these super powers was already a highly violent and sadistic serial killer who killed purely for the pleasure of it. How violent and sadistic? 11 life sentences merely for hi known crimes. That’s how violent and sadistic. And again, this was when he was just a normal guy.

Oh, and on top of all that he doesn’t trigger Peter’s Spider Sense, making him immeasurably more vulnerable to an already overwhelming powerful foe.

He is possibly the single most physically dangerous Spider-Man villain of all!

This isn’t idle little trivia about the character by the way. It is key to his whole concept and was laid out explicitly in his original appearance. In fact, in that first appearance he was so powerful that Peter was helpless and forced to team up with Venom, who lived to kill him!

Even when backed up by Cloak and Dagger, Spider-Man’s ribs take a pounding from Carnage, Shriek and Doppelganger. It is in this injured state he returns home to a concerned and naturally upset Mary Jane.

She then begins an argument with Peter when he tells her he plans on going back out there.

Let’s sum up so far.

MJ has been stressed for months prior to this to the point where she’s started smoking.

Peter and her nearly died mere days ago because their friend went psycho.

Said friend died in front of them.

Their other friend, his wife (who MJ was naturally going to relate more to since they were both the wives of costumes folks) is now a grieving widow.

MJ’s husband promised her he’d take a break for a little while so they can recover a bit.

Her husband then almost immediately went back on that promise.

His risking his life again against a bad guy who’s all but guaranteed to kill him if he fights him alone.

Last time MJ’s husband beat this guy he did it with the help of a powerful nasty piece of work who wanted to kill him. Even then they only just won. That’s how dangerous Carnage is.

This time Peter is fighting him alone, whilst injured, and Carnage has two people backing him up.

So if it wasn’t a guarantee that Peter was dead meat before, now she might as well get ahead by planning the funeral.

THAT is the context behind MJ’s rage and desire for Peter to not be Spider-Man temporarily in this story.

However, noticeably by the end of the story she’s changed her mind!

We then jump forward to the ‘Clone Saga’, specifically a mini-series called Spider-Man: the Final Adventure.

The context behind this story was that Peter, upon believing he was a clone and that Ben Reilly was in truth the original Peter Parker, had decided to retire and support a pregnant Mary Jane.

To this end they had both left New York but due to a lab experiment involving Peter’s blood a serial killer had mutated into a spiderlike monster. With no other heroes around Peter suits up again as Spider-Man to the dismay of the heavily pregnant Mary Jane who wants him to NOT do that.

Is this MJ being not as understanding as she could be, maybe even selfish to some degree?

Sure.

Is it also Peter being in the wrong too?

Also yes, the story brilliantly points that out.

But more significantly prior to this story the Parkers had been through Hell.

In less than a year (in-universe):

Peter’s robot parents had turned up pretending to be the genuine articles

They’d betrayed Peter, breaking his heart

Their close friend Harry Osborn had gone mad

Harry and used his knowledge of Peter’s identity to torment the Parkers

Aunt May had gone into a coma

Peter had suffered a mental breakdown

Ben Reilly and other clones had shown up (including clones of Pter’s murdered lover Gwen Stacy)

Aunt May has passed away

Peter was framed for murder

MJ had been targeted for abduction more than once

They’d discovered MJ was pregnant and that the baby might have serious health issues due to Peter’s mutated DNA

Peter was revealed as a clone and had a second mental breakdown

During his mental distress Peter had accidentally smacked MJ across the room

The Jackal had nearly killed everyone on the planet

The Jackal mind controlled Peter into trying to murder MJ

MJ had nearly died due to complications with the pregnancy

That isn’t even everything but all that stuff had been happening across the previous three years of publication alone. And as I said in-universe it was less than a year.

So MJ and Peter had been through a LOT of horrible and stressful things that had put them both on the edge and sometimes over it. Most of that stuff was connected to Peter’s life as Spider-Man that MJ always had mixed feelings about at best. And now after Peter FINALLY retired and their lives were blissfully normal, allowing them to catch their breaths and do some much needed healing, Peter is coming out of retirement…When it isn’t 100% necessary for him to do so.

And all this is happening during MJ’s second or third trimester when she is very obviously heavily pregnant. This often can be a stressful time for pregnant people generally and of course sometimes mood swings occur due to hormones firing all over the place. And MJ is dealing with super powered spider hormones on top of all this. With a baby that is a total lottery because nobody on Earth has ever been pregnant with a half human/half spider powered baby before.

Given that she is dealing with ALL that is it really unreasonable for her to desire for Peter to simply continue to be retired.

She isn’t demanding he give up being a hero.

She is angry and demanding that Peter CONTINUE the choice he already made about giving up.

Which is not the same thing and she was okay with him going back into the hero game after he pregnancy concluded.

Finally we come to the Howard Macke/John Byrne run on Spider-Man where MJ again desired Peter’s retirement.

Here is the thing, MJ once again was desiring Peter STAY retired as opposed to demanding he outright quit.

Moreover the Mackie/Byrne era was a period where MJ, Peter and other characters were often written incredibly out of character practically systemically. For example Flash Thompson behind Peter’s back literally made fun of the fact that his girlfriend Gwen Stacy and his wife Mary Jane were dead (at the time MJ’s death was faked by a stalker).

Peter and MJ were actually written in this reductive way back during this run as part of an editorial policy to break up the marriage.

The thinking at the time was to make their relationship unlikable in order to make people glad for when they got rid of it via killing off Mary Jane and leaving Peter single.

So essentially not only was MJ and Peter out of character back during this era but they were literally being sabotaged so readers would hate them.

Between that and how OOC (out of character) the characterizations were back then this by rights should simply not count in any analysis of the characters.

Now, there have been instanced post-OMD of MJ clearly wanting, asking, demanding, etc. for Peter to quit.

But as with the Mackie/Byrne era (or Black Cat from 2009-2018) these are out of character and should not truly count.

So when written in character and when there are not extenuating circumstances (like pregnancies) involved, Mary Jane would actually not ask Peter to quit and never truly has.

47 notes · View notes

taytei · 6 years ago

Text

More Ancient AU facts

Stuff that got asked and answered over on my insta that I figured I’d share here as well!

- Lance asked keith out first out loud, but Keith kinda already figured they were dating at that point already (they totally were)

- Keith’s wings are only vaguely sensitive on the webbing on the inner side. They’re actually incredibly durable and can be used practically as shields.

- Soulmates are a thing in this au now by the way

- When you meet your soulmate, it’s an instant connection, a gut feelings. The idea of being separated from them is just so viscerally upsetting, it’s almost painful. Most people meet when they’re older.

- Lance and Keith tho, met when they were babies, so you can imagine how two kids throwing monstrous temper tantrums cause they want to see each other can go sahklhkglsa

- so they didn’t actually realize that they were soulbound until they were older shakhlgsa

- they realized it because, when people get older, they get restless and feel the need to travel to find their partner. Keith and Lance never once felt that way. The closest to that was whenever they were separated from one another. And it just clicked that, “oh, yea, that makes sense” but also kind of “goddamnit, of course it’s him”

- Also, if you are an Ancient’s soulmate, but you yourself are not an ancient, once you soulbond, you basically become immortal so you can stay with them forever

- Lance and Keith intertwine their tails a lot, it’s basically like holding hands

- I just wanna clarify also, that Lance isn’t strictly a mermaid in this AU. He’s an Ocean Descendent, an Ancient one at that. He sticks mostly with the mermaid form because that’s what his parents found most comfortable, so it’s his default. He can take on the form of ANY water based mythical creature if he so wants.

- Also, don’t touch his tail. Unless you are family, a close friend, or given explicit permission, you do not touch his tail.

- Keith takes Lance flying, whether Lance asks him to or not. sometimes he’ll just scoop lance up out of the water unexpectedly

- wing hugs. Ever since they were little, keith has tried his best to wrap his wings around him and lance, even if they weren’t big enough. Once they grew to full size, he would often just cacoon the two of them in his wings whenever he was feeling vulnerable, needy, or protective

- Lance and Keith own an apartment together gsakhlsa

- but they also have their own island that they escape to whenever they feel the need to get away (it was a gift from Hunk for their wedding)

- On their first official date, Lance called in a favor from Allura and asked for a “cosmic light show that’s gonna sweet Keith off his feet and right into my arms”

- something like the northern lights with exploding stars and a metero shower happening all at once ended up being of the most nearly-life threatening but also romantic moments they could have asked for

- i say “life-threatening” but Ancients can’t actually be killed.

- they can be wounded and hurt badly enough that they go into a “resting/healing period”, which is mostly a meditative coma, but they can’t be killed by an outside source.

- when either Lance or Keith is in their resting/healing period, they experience the same feelings as when they’re separated, only like 500x more potent. They’re restless and anxious and more protective and it’s practically impossible to pry them away from the other’s side

- they decide when they want to go out, and once they do, they join The Colony of the Cosmos, where Allura and her small group of people reside.

- Only the Ancients go to the Colony once they decide to die, everyone else on the planet just gets reincarnated over and over again.

- Lance, Keith, Hunk and Shiro’s families are all Ancients, so they all get to go to the colony when they decide its their time

- A bit about the Colony, they’re people of pure cosmic energy. Ruled by Allura and her family. (Honerva and Zarkon are happily married, and Lotor never grew up troubled, they’re perfectly happy).

- When any of the Ancients become cosmic beings, they lose their descendent-attributes (Lance would lose his ear-fins, Keith would lose his horns, etc) and they would gain the Altean-esque ears and specialized markings

- but Cosmic Beings can alter their appearance however they want, so they can always give those attributes back to themselves if they really wanted them

- Lance’s home in built into the underside of a massive island right off the main shoreline

- which Keith visits on quite a few occasions, once he’s granted the Blessed Breath (which is an enchantment that involves an Ocean Ancient tracing a magic rune along their throat that allows them to breathe under water. It’s generally permanent, if used consistently and as long as the caster doesn’t dispel the magic)

- he was only allowed to have it once he actually learned out to swim

- also, it’s impossible for Lance to ever ever drown, even if he’s in his human form

- keith’s is basically the equivalent of lava girl’s land, filled with volcanoes and lava rivers, but there ARE forests of Ash trees and they have beautiful hot springs

- It’s really hot there tho. Lance can visit and endure the heat pretty well, since he’d been visiting since he was little, but he needs to have a canteen of water at hand at all times.

- plus the kogane family had a cooling spring implemented for when lance and his family decided to visit

- Everyone has the ability to look entirely human, no scales, horns, wings, tails, etc, but it’s not really necessary, unless they enter a “Human Glamour required” zone

- Everyone is aware that Ancients exist. they just kind of assume they stay in their “pristine palaces, too good to mingle with the common folk”, not realizing the doofus that just dabbed and the boyfriend that got whacked in the face because of that are two of the most powerful beings in the world

- and being ancients, they’re KIND of famous? once people find out that they ARE ancients. Cause really, they blend pretty seamlessly among everyone else. Most people just assuming they’re common ocean/fire descendent civilians

- people are usually more like “whoa, what? really? YOU’RE an Ancient? I just watched you coke on a baby carrot for almost a solid minute”

- usually that’s followed by people asking just how old they actually are

- Lance & Keith: “it’s been a long time, lost track” - Keith: *actually lost track of how old they are* Lance: *refuses to reveal just how old he actually is*

- Keith gives Lance gifts of gold and jewels and cool weapons that his people either find in their caves or craft from their magma

- the trident that lance has is actually a gift from Keith’s family. The metal is unable to rust or age, it’s completely unbreakable, and with an utterance of a spell, the metal will heat to the same temperature as if it was being forged (like the sun-forge elf blades from the dragon prince)

- meanwhile Lance gives keith ocean found objects, pearls, sea stones, shark teeth, weapons coated in some of the sea’s most poisonous creatures, stuff like that

- Shiro: “I uploaded my music to the cloud, look” An actual rain cloud: *starts playing Africa by Toto*

- Shiro also CAN have normal human feet, but he actively chooses to have bird legs cause he can pick stuff up with his toes without needing to bend over

- When Lance was first learning how to walk, he first went to Allura so he could surprise everyone with how great he is at walking. Only, she taught him by basically playing QWOP with his legs. (google it if you haven’t heard of it, it’s fucking hilarious)

- Hunk is an Earth Ancient, able to shift continents and form mountains with nothing but a thought

- he popped up a statue of Keith for Lance to take to his underwater cavern where Lance keeps all the jewels and gold that Keith gives him, where he basically performs a Part of your World on a constant.

- Pidge is NOT an ancient. She’s a new Age, and gained the figurehead position at a young age because she founded a new type of magic

and FINALLY

- how Shiro lost his wing, how he met adam, and can he ever fly again???

- the accident happened back when he was still a teenager, when Lance’s and Keith’s parents were still the ruling figureheads for their territories. There was a brief moment of imbalance in their world when either Krolia or Lance’s mom was severely injured and wnt into a healing period.

- with the balance so suddenly being thrown off so early in the world’s creation, there was a power backlash throughout the Ancients.

- Shiro got zapped right out of the sky by his own lightning, his wing got fried, and it broke when he crashed landed down

- he lost his wing, since there was ... absolutely no way to salvage it.

- he went to the Forest Fae, as they were renowned healers, when his wing was still aching, and hoping maybe there was an alternative for his wing

- And that’s where he met (one) of his soulmates, adam. (eventually they meet Curtis, cause damnit, shiro deserves two soulmates, LET THE MAN BE LOVED). Adam helped with the phantom pains and worked his best to help the wing heal properly, even if it wouldn’t ever be able to grow in full again

- and as for whether shiro can fly, there IS an alternative.

- a super complicated spell called the “Spirit of the wing”, which basically gives him a spectral wing to make up for what he’s lost. but it is incredibly exhausting on the user, and tends to make his phantom pains act up more severely

- so he only uses it when he absolutely needs to

sorry that this was so long! But I thought that i would share them!

#ancient au #klance #voltron #taytei talks #headcanon list

2K notes · View notes

felicityfiction · 4 years ago

Text

[bulletproof glass part 2] part 1

jung yunho.

see, san and yunho are not strangers. at least, not to san.

choi san knows that jung yunho is in the same position as him. well, nearly

he’s not anyone important, a mere subordinate to a leader named kim hongjoong. according to what intelligence they have on hongjoong, jung yunho is something of a brother. but not being blood related, he has no chance of succeeding him as leader.

here’s another tidbit of information. jung yunho is what choi san would consider a coward. he cries too easily, hurts too openly and loves far, far too many. most of all, he hesitates to kill. not even a human, just a fly. jung yunho is a fish out of water in the realm of the mafias.

so actually, he’s nothing like san. san, who feels at home with a pistol in his bedside drawer, a dagger under his pillow, and a burning desire to cause pain and agony.

if choi san was bulletproof, then jung yunho was glass.

when choi san sees jung yunho for the second time in his life, he’s standing at his father’s side, facing down hongjoong,who looks far too pleased with himself.

“our territory, choi. you’re intruding. we still have rules here, you know.”

san doesn’t like that they’re meeting in hongjoong’s territory. his father’s choice of guard was sparse. himself, seonghwa and eden. of course, there was an armoured vehicle waiting five feet from where they stood, but in a gunfight, five feet was impossible to cross. san’s arrogance is hereditary.

but still, choi san is not afraid. he’s alert, aware of the five guards behind hongjoong, each armed with hand guns and knives. they stand ramrod straight behind their leader, eyes darting left and right, as if san’s father could pull an army of assassins out of thin air to unleash upon them. san smirks. newbies

he could take them down blindfolded with one hand.

“a small mistake, kim. our runner went off course. please, accept my sincere apologies. i guarantee it will not happen again.” sarcasm drips from san’s father’s words, and san finds himself amused. “we brought replacement goods. i’m sure you’ll find them up to standard.” he snaps his fingers and san moves towards hongjoong.

all at once, there are five guns trained on him, and he laughs. “relax, boys. i won’t touch your leader.” not here, anyway.

he drops the box a few meters from hongjoong’s feet with a mock bow. he sees the leader’s eyebrows raise in amusement, and san thinks that perhaps him and hongjoong could get along in another universe. “this one has some bite, choi.”

san retreats back to his father’s side, satisfied that he captured the attention of hongjoong. of course, you’d have to be blind not to be at least intrigued by choi san.

“of course. he’s mine.”

that’s unexpected. san’s identity usually wasn’t revealed unless absolutely necessary. you know, to prevent the target on his back from growing bigger. evidently, san’s father doesn’t think that hongjoong poses any real threat. san begs to differ, because he sees something in hongjoong’s eyes sharpen.

“don’t be a fool, kim.” the warning is glaring. the closest san has gotten to paternal affection in his lifetime were the times that his father warded off threats to his life. how fun.

“never, choi. i wouldn’t underestimate yours.”

san’s father clicks his tongue, and turns on his heels. “the songs, they could be out to get us next. i heard the leader just died, and new one is fiesty, doesn’t know how to respect the order. might need to put out a little warning. i’ll be in touch.”

“see you around, choi.”

san’s father halts in his steps, a grin slinking onto his face. “by the way, kim. i thought your little brother preferred to stay indoors, away from any potential violence? why, he looks rather comfortable out here with a gun in his hands, don’t you think? might consider training him.”

immediately, hongjoong’s voice becomes harsher. “he’ll do what he wants, choi. i don’t need your opinions.”

san, still facing him, sees the man directly behind hongjoong stiffen at his father’s words. bingo

“of course, of course. it’s just that he’s rather precious, isn’t he?” san’s father taps his heel against the floor as a form of goodbye, and strolls out of the warehouse with eden trailing behind him.

san thinks that there’s nothing hongjoong would like more than to put a bullet in his father’s back. the thought cracks him up.

he does a once over of the man behind hongjoong. he’s quite a bit taller than san, and he looks like if he worked out a bit more, he could be intimidating. but of course, his face was his downfall. he had eyes that were much too big to look intimidating, and perhaps the softest facial features san had ever seen in his life. he fidgets in his place, eyes downcast.

“bet you can’t wait for your old man to kick the bucket so you can gain power, huh?”

san laughs, a light tinkling laugh that seonghwa has learned to mean imminent danger. “i don’t need him to be dead to take power, hongjoong.” the leader’s first name rolls off his tongue smoothly, pulling hongjoong down and forcing him to see san as an equal. the man behind hongjoong looks up, and san winks.

jung yunho visibly pales, and san’s decided he’s had enough fun for tonight.

he stalks off after his father with a wave, pleased that he’s made an impression on the kim leader that was not to be forgotten.

in the car, seonghwa looks troubled, glancing at san several times while fisting his hands in his shirt.

“what now?” san can’t be bothered with any of seonghwa’s nagginess today. it’s probably something to do with maintaining amicable relations and knowing his place, blahblah. if anything, san just earned hongjoong’s respect.

“nothing.” any other time, san would pry, because he could. but today, he takes seonghwa’s flimsy excuse and relaxs into his seat.

the first time choi san sees jung yunho, he’s sixteen, and been permitted to sit in on meetings with his father for the first time.

hongjoong has come to declare himself the new leader of his group, as per tradition. san’s father accepts, because he’s really not that interested in the kims territory, seeing as it’s much smaller than their own.

san barely notices the boy behind hongjoong who shakes in his shoes. he does notice when hongjoong reaches out a hand to rest it on the boy’s shoulder. a form of comfort, san muses.

weakness.

san is sure this boy would be the downfall of kim hongjoong. but then hongjoong is gone after signing some contracts that continue their fragile alliance, taking the boy out of the room and out of san’s mind.

he learns the boy’s name.

“kim hongjoong has an achilles’ heel, i see.” twirling a cigarette between his fingers, san’s father looks thoughtfully at his advisor. “who is that?”

“jung yunho, sir. a childhood friend. perhaps a brother,of sorts. nothing to be worried about.”

“oh, i’m the opposite of worried. he’s leverage. might come in handy one day, who knows?”

jung yunho. the name means nothing to san.

the third time san sees jung yunho, it’s at his favourite cafe.

the boy is sipping a pink smoothie, eyes focused on a laptop in front of him, fingers flying over the keyboard.

san wonders why he remembers him so easily.

he looks young. far too pure for what san knows he’s involved in. he looks much more at ease among the normal population, dressed in a hoodie emblazoned with the insignia of seoul university.

a student. how peculiar, seeing as there’s really no need for him to be worried about finding a job.

if san didn’t know better, he’d think that yunho looked rather cute.

“hello.”

mental note 1: jung yunho startles easily. the smoothie nearly topples over onto his laptop, and he fumbles around to straighten the cup.

“don’t look so scared. i’m not here to do anything.” san spreads his hands in a gesture of peace, disregarding the dagger hidden in his boot, of course.

“what do you want?”

mental note 2: jung yunho tries very hard to be scary.

“nothing. just thought i’d come and chat.”

“like we have anything to chat about.” yunho’s posture becomes guarded, and he has a hand wrapped around his phone, ready to dial for someone to come get him in case san attacked him. which was a ridiculous notion, because they were in public, and san would prefer not to get banned from this cafe. they have very good coffee.

“you’re rather interesting, jung yunho.” san drops his voice to a whisper, leaning in closer across the table as yunho shrinks back, eyes wide. “a member of the korean mafia and the seoul university basketball team, i see. odd combination, wouldn’t you think?”

yunho shuts his eyes momentarily, and opens them to find san’s blazing irises staring directly into his. he feels vulnerable, like choi san was trespassing into his soul. “i don’t think that’s really any of your business. go away.”

san leans back, bringing his coffee to his lips. how cute, he can’t curse.

“i’m choi san. i think we’ll be seeing each other around, darling.” san leaves yunho gaping after him, his grip on his phone now slack, but his heart is beating erratically fast.

seonghwa is waiting outside the cafe, and once again, worry graces his friend’s features.

“who-“

“seonghwa, you’re going to age prematurely if you keep frowning like that. there’s nothing to worry about.”

“why were you fraternising with kim hongjoong’s brother?”

san chuckles. seonghwa was always so dramatic. “i wasn’t fraternising. i was being friendly. we’ll probably be meeting more often, and it’s nice to have a few familiar faces, don’t you think?”

“like you would be friendly, choi san.”

“you wound me.” san tosses his car keys at seonghwa and clambers into the backseat of his car. “don’t think i didn’t notice, seonghwa. you seem like you know kim hongjoong, more than my father does.”

seonghwa has to swallow his shock, but san sees the tightening of his grip on the steering wheel. “i have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“sure, seonghwa. i believe you. i always do.”

san chews on his straw, and unknowingly makes another mental note.

he wants to see jung yunho again.

the first time seonghwa sees jung yunho, it’s a photo on a tablet, five days before they meet hongjoong in the warehouse.

“of course, you can’t tell him yet. we’re still trying to decide the method. that’d break the rules.” seonghwa nods his understanding, but his heartbeat pounds in his ears.

he’s san’s initiation. hongjoong can’t hurt us over him, not unless he wants a war that he can’t win.

#ateez yunho #ateez #fanfic #kpop #ateez san #ateez seonghwa #ateez hongjoong #yunsan #mafia au

5 notes · View notes

smokeybrandreviews · 5 years ago

Text

Smokey brand Movie Reviews: Full Shares

I have one helluva backlog of films to work through but, between those and other distractions, i am having just the dickens of a time getting through them. I’ve started Uncut Gems three different times but the tension, man, it stresses me out way too much. I have to take breaks in between and just forget about where i left off so i need to start over. I have to say, though, the twenty to thirty minutes i have seen is absolutely excellent. In the meantime, while i muster enough nerve to actually finish that film, i wanted to revisit one of my all-time favorites. Way back when i first saw this movie, it gave me the same intense, stressed out, panic i feel watching Gems. Alien changed the way that I interacted with film and, to this day, it’s one of maybe a handful of movies to ever illicit true fear from me. I saw it, for the first time as a young kid of maybe six or seven, in a late night showing on TV and i remember even the broadcast edit spazzing me the f*ck out. Imagine my apprehension seeing the theatrical cut fr the first time a few years later. As i got older and learned to appreciate the moving parts of film individually, i came to love Alien even more. Not only is it actually terrifying. it’s one of the best built movies i have ever seen and carries the template for bad-ass film like a badge of honor. Cats say the sequel, which i’ll get to in a later review, is better than the first, but i wholeheartedly disagree. This movie is easily top three all-time for me and here’s why. I have to tell you from the outset, this movie is perfect in my opinion. There are no flaw so don’t expect any negative, just me gushing about the excellence within.

The Outstanding

The very best aspect of this movie is easily Sigourney Weaver’s portrayal as Ellen Ripley. My goodness, was this character absolutely amazing. When people think of Ripley, they often remember Cameron’s version of her from Aliens. To most people, Ripley is that chick, strapped down in a power loader, calling the Queen Xenomorph a b*tch to her face. That is, undeniably, iconic. Ellen Ripley solidified the template for strong, female, lead with that scene. But Ripley didn’t start out that way. She had to earn that title and it began with her battle for survival in the original Alien. Ripley began as an undermined, kind of by-the-book, Warrant Office, just trying to get back in time for her daughter’s eleventh birthday. Over the course of two hours, we watched Ripley evolve into the absolute unit that she is known for and the nuanced portrayal of that evolution by Weaver shows us the harrowing journey with an almost visceral vulnerability. Ellen Ripley is not a character, she is a person. You feel for this woman and her struggle. You root for her. You gasp when she fails. You want her to survive. To get attached to a film character so completely is testimony to the excellence of that actor’s performance and Sigourney Weaver turns one in for the ages. Not bad for a twenty-year-old’s second film appearance, first speaking role.

You can’t speak about Alien without the iconic imagery provided by the nightmares of H.R. Giger’s art. The raw, horrifyingly sexual, disgustingly organic, yet wholly bizarre vestiges of the LV-426 hive were incredible. That initial pan of the fossilized Space Jockey fused to his pilot’s seat can’t help but inspire very real awe. I imagine seeing that reveal on an Imax screen and it is absolutely riveting. More so, entering into the hive itself, wit all those corridors woven from steel and flesh, leading into the pitfall trap full of the waiting, legitimately alien eggs illicit a feeling of primal terror. Those things are nothing like anything terrestrial. They are just familiar enough to inspire curiosity from the audience but uncanny enough to trigger apprehension. Absolutely brilliant but the true genius, the source of constant panic, belongs to the adult xenomorph, itself.

Big Chap, as the production team called it, was a miracle of effects work. The suit was custom built to fit the near seven foot frame of Bolaji Badejo but it was his physicality that lent an organic presence to the techno-organic monstrosity. That original Xenomorpgh was wildly terrifying to me. Even at my young age, i weathered Freddy Krueger, Michael Myers, and Jason Voorhees, with rather stoic aplomb but the Xenomorph sent me into a panic. I had legitimate nightmares about this thing which had never happened before. Giger had created a creature of such instinctual terror that you has no choice by to fear it and that sh*t is amazing.

I touched on how excellent Ellen Ripley was as a character, giving well deserved credit to Weaver’s portrayal but, like all classic characters in storytelling, Ripley began on the page. The writing for Alien is some of the best i have ever had the pleasure of experiencing. Every character, every scene, every aspect, of this story is tight. Dan O’Bannon deserves all credit for this classic script. He wrote a story filled with characters and suspense, never identifying male of female unless absolutely necessary. I miss when films were films and not soapboxes for gender politics. It’s amazing how timeless and iconic characters can become when you’re not trying to push a goddamn agenda.

Now, O’Bannon’s script is excellent but it took a true visionary to bring it to life. Ridley Scott was that creative. Alien was Scott’s second directorial effort and he was able to craft a visual narrative far beyond what his tangible experience would dictate. Scott is a true visionary. The way he saw O’Bannon’s script was incredible. I mean, the vistas of the Derelict Ship, the sanitized halls of the Nostromo, that whole retro-futuristic look, the abject terror and repugnant reversal of sexuality with the Alien; All of that is Scott. O’Bannon gave this man one helluva blueprint but Scott built a goddamn monument of cinema in his own right.

The sound design in this film is absolutely classic. The hisses from the alien, the clacking of the computers, that harrowing voice from MOTHER during the adrenaline packed climax; Every sound, echo, pitch, and clank is perfectly administered to embellish the hellish visuals onscreen. I’ll never forget the first time seeing Brett’s death scene. The subtle sway of chains giving way to the impactful sound of those water droplets hitting his face, lulling you into a false sense of security, only to see the Xenomorph puncture his skull. That mixture of screams and rattling chains was haunting, brilliant use of sound for a horror set piece and testament to it’s voracity.

I spoke at length about Sigourney Weaver’s casting and performance but literally everyone is outstanding in this film. being an original script, not based on any existing media, you had an open template to create these characters. In a sense, casting for this type of project is even more tantamount than building a cinematic adaption of a novel or comic. This film is going to be known for these characters, for this world, going forward and Alien nailed this sh*t. Aside from Weaver’s star-turning performance as Ripley, John Hurt turned in a rather endearing outing as Kane, the first victim of the Xenomorpgh. Tom Skerritt was probably the biggest name in the film so everyone thoight that his character Dallas would be the lone survivor. Nope. Veronica Cartwright’s Lambert was woefully unraveled, specially during the Chestburster scene and Ian Holm’s Ash is easily unnerving his uncanny valley-esque performance. Harry Dean Stanton’s Brett was a man of few words but my second favorite performance in this entire film belongs to Yaphet Kotto. His portrayal as the aggressive, outspoken, incredibly loyal, Parker, endures to this day. These characters are all incredibly written and skillfully performed, bringing characters to life that will endure through time.

This movie came out in 1979, man! It is four decades old an can still give anything created today, even with out advances in effects work and film techniques, a run for it’s money. That is testament to the deft hand and expert precision in the construction of this movie. It’s rare that a film can be so timeless and it’s easily the first i have ever seen to capture that high mark. There are others like that; Jurassic Park, Twelve Angry Men, Jaws, The Godfather, To kill a Mockingbird, Star Wars, but even those classics show chinks in the armor. Not Alien. That Retro-futuristic design is absolutely timeless and fits in with any era of cinema.

The world Alien created was ripe for elaboration. The franchise, alone, produced three sequels; Each an amazing look at different film styles, directorial vision, and cinematic genre. Aliens is arguably one of the greatest sequels ever and has a completely different tone that the first. Some would ay it’ even better than the first. I wouldn’t but others do. There have been books, comics, games, and so much more based on this world. Alien: Isolation is easily the best game ever made based on the franchise and it stars that eleven-year-old daughter turned adult woman, Amanda Ripley, in a similar situation as her mother. Let me tell you, bad-assery must run in the family because Amanda was just as dope as her mom during her own gauntlet. And just like her ma’s adventure, Amanda’s outing stressed me out to no end. I loved the Earth War comic growing up and the introduction of Ripley 8 was something special. She was kind of ridiculous in the fourth film, Alien; resurrection but the comics did 8 much better justice. Speaking of artificial constructs, i would be remiss if i didn’t mention the absolutely charming android Xenomorph, Norbert, and his predecessor, Jeri, but my favorite hybrid is definitely Eloise. That’s not to mention the excellent stories with in the Aliens versus Predator mythos. I’m not going to get too heavy into that lore but you’d be hard-pressed to find a more amazing, female protagonist, outside of Ripley, than Machiko Noguchi; The human Japanese woman, blooded by the Elite Leader Yautja, Broken Tusk, given the title of Little Knife by the space-faring Predators. Ma is a f*cking machine and it’s a crime AvP ignored her story for what we eventually got in cinemas. Hell, there are even aspect of the Prometheus portion of this universe that i like, even though i don’t particularly like the film, itself. Elden is a dope character with a ton of potential for the overall lore going forward. There is so much excellent material in the Aliens expanded universe; Characters, concepts, worlds and more. The expansive nature and reverence for this universe rivals that of Star Wars, none of which could be possible without the inspired execution of the original Alien film.

The Verdict

What can i say? Alien is a goddamn masterpiece. From the second those titles slowly manifest to the exploration of LV-426, to the claustrophobic panic of the Nostromo, to Ripley’s triumphant yet uncertain fate in the end, i absolutely adore every aspect of this movie. Everything about this movie is deliberate and amazing. The performances are all excellent, everyone does an exceptional job. The set design is gorgeous and in the case of the alien hive within the Space Jockey’s ship, disgustingly beautiful. Giger’s art as perfect for this film but his design for Big Chap, the original Xenomorph design, was absolutely unnerving. The first time i saw it onscreen, i was both enthralled and horrified. To see the massive beast, in the few glimpses you got between some of the most excellent lighting ever captured on film, was incredible. There are shortcomings, sure, all films have them but i don’t believe them to be a negative. The pacing can be a little dragging at times but it’s absolutely necessary to build atmosphere. I thrive on slow burn films like The VVitch or Blade Runner 2049 and it was Alien that taught me patience in film can be a virtue. I cannot praise this film enough. For me, Alien is as close to perfect as can be. This easily gets my highest recommendation. If you’ve never seen Alien and appreciate sheer psychological terror, beautiful sets, brilliant direction, awe inspiring shots, and some of the best sound design ever captured on film, you’ll love this movie.

#Alien #Alien 1979 #Xenomorph #Ripley #Ellen Ripley #Smokey brand Movie Reviews

3 notes · View notes

innalterable · 5 years ago

Text

[ park chaeyoung, 22 ] did you hear? there’s a new addition to the hypehens family! [ innalterable ] was starting to get known for [ speed paints, tutorials & supplies reviews ] and i think they will hit it big this time around as a part of the [ expresso ] squad at hypehens. [ kwang inna ] is known to be [ friendly & impulsive ] and enjoys [ collecting polaroids ]. with their vibes of [ singing horribly while taking a shower & enamel pins all over a denim jacket ] and a style that is unique, i think they are going to take the internet by storm!

hello everyone! i’m glad to introduce you to my daughter inna / danna! she’s a bit of a mess that only wants to spend the whole day in her home painting if possible. you can find her basics here, personality here, background here. if you're interested in plotting, you can find me in discord at internebula#6982!

without furher ado, here’s more about her:

basic information

― full name: kwang inna ― nickname: nana ― age: twenty two ― date of birth: february 11th, 1998 ― birthplace: los angeles, california. ― current location: seoul, south korea ― ethnicity: asian ― nationality: (dual nationality) korean-american ― gender: cisfemale ― pronouns: she/her ― orientation: bisexual, demiromantic. ― religion: atheist ― occupation: content creator, freelance artist ― language(s) spoken: korean (fluent), english (fluent)

physical appearance

― faceclaim: park chaeyoung (rosé) of blackpink ― hair: naturally brown, currently dyed blonde. often put in messy buns, ponytails, french braids but also let loose with casual curls she gets from sleeping with her hair braided. ― eye colour: coffee brown ― height: 168cm ― weight: 45kg ― tattoos: four; the great wave off kanagawa on her right arm, flowery half sleeve on her left arm, moon arrow behind right ear and a matching triangle tattoo with her brother on her right inner forearm. ― piercings: lobe and upper lobe in both ears, anti-tragus on the left one, double helix on the right one. ― clothing style: high-waisted skirts, dresses that flow nicely with the wind, mom jeans that are a bit too long for her, graphic t-shirts she’s gotten from garage sales and thrift shops, oversized jackets she’s customized with either paint or enamel pins or patches, long coats that resemble those of classic detectives, her good ol’ dr. marteens in a variety of colors, knee and thigh high socks, athleisure outfits (consisting mainly of leggins and big sweatshirts), crop-tops, sling bags, whatever pair of sneakers she finds and matching bag or backpack.

headcanons

― born and raised in los angeles, her parents moved to usa right after they got married in their mid twenties only because of the feeling of adventure. they both got stable jobs there and even though her mom was the one that struggled the most with the different language, with the help of her husband she was able to improve steadily.

― ever since she was young, inna has showcased exceptional skills when it came to drawing and painting (if you consider the crayon scattered all over the walls of their apartment back in los angeles as art). always restless, she got easily bored with the common toys and games, only truly finding joy in the coloring books her parents always got her instead of dolls and an easy bake oven.

― she has always been heavily spoiled by every member of their family and inna grew used to this. it was no surprise that she always got what she wanted with a simple smile and her trademark grabby hands (she still does this till now and it’s absolutely gross). the one that spoiled her the most was her brother.

― inna holds dear every member of her family and despite being the ultimate spoiled princess, she always offered help around the house when she became older and realized that everyone had to do something for their household. she hated washing dishes though and always traded that task with her brother to the point that it became a natural thing for him to wash them and for her to mop and take the trash out. to this day, she will avoid washing dishes at any cost and her apartment often has a pile of dirty dishes which only makes it worse when she runs out of clean ones.

― the divorce of her parents hit her hard (spoiler alert: her father was awful when no one was seeing and cheated a lot on her mom, which she forgave every damn time until he crossed the line and brought another girl to their place) mainly because she didn’t understand what was happening at the moment and no one took their time to explain it to her. it was difficult to deal with her behaviour back then, she threw really loud tantrums and demanded to see her father almost daily and, whenever this didn’t happen, she’d go on a silent protest by not doing anything they asked her to. it’s years later that she understands everything (thanks to an argument she had with her brother for defending her dad and he just exploded). this, of course, greatly disappointed her and made her feel bad for still standing by her dad’s side.

― after that, inna just like her brother, closed a little to their father even though he was still as kind, loving and caring as ever with them despite everything. his attitude made her doubt her mother and brother several times, but then came the first girlfriend he ever introduced to them, and then the second… and so on.

― it was obvious that her mother drastically changed after the divorce and this scared inna a lot: letting someone in and become vulnerable with them only to have your heart broken sounded absolutely painful. and she didn’t want that. plus, her mom’s constant reminders of how she can’t trust anyone that its not her or her brother stayed deeply engraved within her.

― she’s never had a stable relationship, if anything, the longer she’s “gone out” with someone is a couple of weeks and after that, she ghosted them with no remorse. inna has had crushes in the past, but rarely ever actively pursues someone unless she’s really curious or interested to know more about them. nonetheless, she's a bit of a flirt and tends to get clingy and touchy when she's comfortable/close enough with someone.

― school is difficult in every stage for her, always getting rather mediocre grades in most of her classes except those that required a more creative and practical approach. simply put: she was bad at theoric classes and anything related to math and physics. though, inna was always close to failing but never did so. this was just one of the many reasons she didn’t want to pursue a college education.

― the creation of her channel is all thanks to her brother, her self-proclaimed number one fan and the one person that’s always encouraged her to keep going with her art. he suggested the idea and told her that they could do a testing video to see how comfortable she felt with it before uploading it. turns out, inna was more than okay with the camera for it focused on her hands and process the whole time. voice over was not necessary back then but as her channel evolved, so did the quality and content of her videos. steadily, she introduced different aspects of herself, starting with her voice by doing easy-to-follow tutorials and later on, her face was revealed when doing an art haul video. this helped her become more comfortable with the camera and now, every couple of weeks she posts vlogs of her visits to museums or events or just updates for her community.

― despite her popularity and some people even recognising her on the streets, inna has never considered herself to be a celebrity. in fact, she feels awkward with the title for she considers her channel to be just another one. she appreciates though whenever her prints get sold out or when someone asks for her autograph and a photo or even when she is invited to events as a special guest.

― the kind to get really excited when talking about things she likes. don’t get her started on her favorite medium or her favorite painting because she might go on for twenty seven minutes straight about how watercolors are the superior medium to work with.

― she likes experimenting with any and every medium out there, particularly enjoying art subscription boxes that always surprised her and push her out of her comfort zone. her specialization is landscapes and character design, though she’s recently learning to draw more animals and plants.

#hype!intro

3 notes · View notes

looselucy · 6 years ago

Photo

Master of None

November 17th “Oi.” Harry gently nudged the side of my stomach with his foot. I was laying with my head at the foot of his bed, flat on my stomach, head resting on my arms, feeling rather sleepy. I’d been expecting an afternoon nap, but it seemed Harry had different ideas. “Mm?” “You wanna sit on my face?”

I immediately whipped my head over my shoulder to look at him, eyes wide, mouth agape. The left hand side of his lips were raised, back propped against the wall behind him, awaiting my answer and looking the complete opposite of coy whilst doing so. “I’m sorry?” I gawped. “You heard.” “Do… Do you want me to?” “Definitely.” I don’t know why I was so surprised, really. Maybe it was down to his blunt delivery, or the fact that Sam had never been too keen on oral; it seemed to be one of those things that was expected from women but a blessing from men. It certainly felt like a blessing then. “Holy shit. You’re dreamy, Harry Styles.” “Is that a yes?” I answered by practically jumping up from my spot, going back to him to straddle his waist and kiss him eagerly, the two of us already nude, which I was thankful for. We’d been like this all week. It felt like I’d practically moved into his place, it was verging on ridiculous. I’d been tempted to say we should have a break, just for a couple of days, but then he’d say something like that and I’d never want to leave his fucking house again. I’d also realised the other day that Harry seemed to know the limit where I didn’t. I thought he’d call a break if he felt it necessary. That Wednesday, I had stormed into our one on one class with one thing my mind, shutting the door and rushing over to kiss him, hot and ready. “Hey,” He had gasped against my lips, slowly taking my hips into his hands and pushing me away delicately. “Hey hey hey, chill out.” “What?” I’d groaned. “C’mon. We’re here for a reason, right? We’ll do that later.” “Or we could do it now.” “That’s not the point of these classes.” He’d told me confidently. “You’re gorgeous, Alf, and any other time, I’m yours. But I still have a job to do here, and that’s to make you strong. To make you feel safe. M’not gunna stop that now. What we do here, it’s important. It needs to stay platonic, okay? As… much as possible.” As much as there was a part of me that had been frustrated by that, at the same time I couldn’t be. He was right, we needed to focus on the real reason I was there having those lessons in the first place, and I liked that he wasn’t letting his dick get the better of him. We’d gotten carried away in that environment once, but that was before we knew we could have each other, almost like he’d grabbed the chance whilst it was there, maybe thinking it was his one opportunity and he had to take it. He knew we couldn’t make a habit of that. He was continuing to surprise me. The class had played out as it normally did, he’d challenged me and taught me and helped me to feel better, and just before the rest of the women arrived, he’d kissed me. It was ideal. So that was what had become of my days. I’d work, I’d nip home, and then I’d go to his. Unless we were at the pub or they had another football game, it was always us, usually at his house and occasionally at mine. We were due to go to the pub that night, but we had a few hours to kill before we were meeting everyone, and I really liked how Harry had suggested to pass the time away. His kissed down my body as he slid slowly down the bed, right down my chest and stomach until he was flat, his palms brushing over then holding onto my hips. My chest already felt tight; in fact, my whole body felt weak, simply because I knew what he was about to do to me. In a strange way, I was nervous. The position I was in almost felt like a vulnerable one, but I knew he’d make me feel at ease as much as he could. I could feel his breath against me, a sign of how eager he was, drawn out and yet quick all at the same time. He nudged upwards slightly, the very tip of his nose teasing my clit, my stomach already twirling, a light curse curling across my lips. “Come to me.” He demanded quietly. Closing my eyes, I gradually lowered myself, leaving little room for air and feeling his mouth on me instantly, his perfect lips imprinting my most sensitive area. He was slow, his hands caressing my skin, his actions so delicate but commanding, the way his mouth moved and jaw clicked utterly dreamlike. Heat tore through my body in waves, woozy within seconds, feeling him fuck his tongue into me like I was the one thing he ever wanted to taste. I could sense my balance tipping, reaching down to find his hands on my hips, placing mine atop his in an attempt to steady myself, find some form of centre. I could faintly feel his scars beneath my palms, the anomalous rise and fall of his skin, noticeably worse on his left hand than his right. He repositioned our hands rather rapidly, entwining our digits and gripping tight. His mouth moved slowly, sensual, so drawn out that I could track every single movement he made, each curve of his lips and flick of his tongue its own force to be reckoned with. He created an inordinate sensation inside my body that had never existed before. “You’re too good.” I panted. “Oh fuck. Fuck.” My hips moved, reacting to the pleasure he gave, looking down and finally opening my eyes to see him, and he looked so fucking into it that my rapture increased. His eyes were closed, his skin looking soft, glowing; stunningly beautiful. What I’d found about Harry was that his beauty didn’t seem to tire or become regular, it augmented. Every time I was with him, I noticed it more, different features or characteristics that not just reminded me of his attractiveness, but reinforced it, like it was a lesson to be learnt and understood. I held onto his hands tighter, whimpering when he moaned against me, sucking my crux, his vocal satisfaction so heavy it worked as a vibration and took the experience to a completely new level. I had still yet to become accustom with how good he was, or at least how good we were together. There was a link, straight from my body to his that made each sexual interaction absolutely mind blowing. I didn’t doubt for a second that we could be great with other people, but I knew that something special happened when it was both of us. I had to remind myself to breathe, keeping my eyes trained on him, my grip on his hands tight, immersed in the way he looked as he ate me out with passion and poise. I could feel myself waning, weary and blissed out. His actions were relentless, not pausing or tempering for even a moment. “Har... Harry, I-I can’t.” I was trembling, the responses of my stomach so unfamiliar I hardly knew how manage it. Then, he opened his eyes, his lids bolting upwards so he was looking directly at me, flattening his tongue and tilting his head back so that it ran over me completely, his features slowly revealing themselves until I got to see the striking glisten around his mouth. I was done. With one final, loud moan, my stomach untangled and my orgasm hit, flowing from my body and seeming to drag every bit of energy and equilibrium with it. I lolled my head back, shocked into stillness for a while, my stamina fucking draining from me. I was exhausted. I let go of his hands and fell backwards, landing uncomfortably on his legs before rolling onto the bed, flopping onto my stomach, feeling as though I was almost close to tears. He’d fucked the life out of me with his mouth alone. I could just about hear him shuffling, moving about behind me, but I didn’t have the capacity to look, having a few moments that I wished were hours where my mind was too blank and body too weak to concentrate on anything. The only thing that introduced the smallest bit of life to me was the way my ears pricked, hearing the unmistakeable sound of him tearing into a condom. All too soon his hands were back on my hips, hauling me back to him, on my knees with my head still on the mattress. “Harry, I… I don’t think I can. You’ve killed me.” He snapped his body over mine, kissing all the way up my spine until his lips were beside my ear, whispering. “I promise, m’not gunna last long. I’m so turned on, I won’t fucking last. Please. Please.” Breathless, I nodded, widening my legs for him, wanting to return the favour, grateful he wouldn’t last long and yet also a little eager for what he was about to do. It was a bizarre feeling. He kissed my neck, a way of thanking me, and then he moved back, lining himself and pushing into me with speed, releasing a beautiful bleat of relief as soon as he was inside, already quite obvious that it wasn’t going to last long. I liked that about Harry. Giving pleasure was all part of it for him. He wasn’t just waiting to get some attention himself, being selfish, because giving was his way of receiving, and the more I picked up on all these things, the more grateful I became for the way I’d gone back to our arrangement despite my initial reservations. His thrusts were vicious, each one accompanied by beautiful sounds of sweet fulfilment, one hand reaching up to grab at my hair, gathering it all and pulling it back, forcing my gaze upwards, and then he was done. As quickly as he’d promised, it was over, his body as weak as mine had been, groaning as he fell down to me, quickly kissing my back once again. “Holy shit.” He breathed restlessly. “Told ya.” I was giggling when he fell to his side of the bed, the two of us completely collapsing, me with my face in the sheets and Harry gazing up to the ceiling, taking our time to recover from the experience. I figured we’d spend a good while in silence. Usually after such a vigorous workout, we’d have our time, cooling down, wallowing in the empty space and silence of our comedowns, but something happened that meant that this time, that wasn’t an option. “Shit.” I heard him, opening one eye and seeing the panic in his eyes. “Shit. What the fuck?” “What?” I creaked. “The condom broke.” “What?” “The fucking condoms broke, Alfie. What the fuck?” He shot upright. “Shit. What should we do? Holy shit.” “Harry, calm down.” I huffed, closing my eyes again, shaking my head. “What should we do? Do we… Do we need to get the morning after pill? Does it cost? Do you need money?” “Don’t worry about it.” “I’m sorry, I… I can’t help it! We need to be safe. For fuck sake, Alfie, we need to-” “I can’t have kids.” I opened my eyes and said bluntly, which finally shut him up. His face dropped, silent for a few moments, taking in what I’d just told him, though I wasn’t sure it quite went in the first time. “What?” He gasped quietly. “I can’t have children. So honestly, don’t worry about it. No need to panic, because… I literally couldn’t get pregnant if I tried, so… lay back down. Relax.” He did as I’d instructed, laying down beside me, but keeping his eyes on me, with this look on his face that was somewhere between utter shock and feeling sorry for me. I closed my eyes again, blocking that look from my vision. It was a look I’d seen before, one I’d grown tired of. “Is it… Is it like… slim chance, or no chance at all?” He asked. “No chance. My ovary is fucked, basically. The doctors told me it was my tubes... Something… I dunno, it was years ago when I found out. I was born with an abnormality, and I’d have to have major surgery to even stand a chance. It’s not really an option for me.” “Shit. I’m sorry.” He spoke softly. “Don’t be. I mean… even when they told me, I wasn’t upset.” I opened my eyes to address him properly. “I’ve never… had that desire in me, y’know? That thing that made me crave having a baby. It’s not really something I want from my life, so I’ve always been okay with it.” He nodded, still seeming solemn, but like he understood at least. The only thing that had ever bothered me about it was the thought of my future with someone else. I think that was one of the other reasons I’d stayed with Sam for so long, because I knew he was okay with it. He was the same as me, he didn’t see children in his future, so it was okay! But I hated the thought of falling for someone and getting serious and them distancing because they wanted a family and I didn’t. Other than that, it had never really meant anything to me. I knew I didn’t need that to be fulfilled and happy with my life. “I know what you mean. Doesn’t appeal to me either, to be honest.” Harry admitted, sharing one of the few very personal things I knew about him. “Really?” “Nah. I think… families are complicated. Too complicated. I don’t think kids are everyone’s happy ending, and that’s okay. It shouldn’t be so expected of people.” “I agree.” I didn’t know whether he was saying that thinking he was making me feel better, like he thought on some level it really did bother me, but he seemed honest enough. I think maybe I was just surprised by such honesty from him, such a revealing statement. I felt like I’d learnt more about Harry in the last minute than I had in the last few months of knowing him. “Shit. That got deep quick.” I joked after we’d been quiet for a while. “Yeah, pretty much.” He chuckled with me, looking back to the ceiling. “So there’s no need to worry about the condom. Also, I vote we both get checked out, and once we see we’re both clean, we fuck the condoms off completely. I’m on the injection anyway to stop my periods, and I fucking hate condoms.” “I do too. Yeah, deal.” We shook hands haphazardly. “We’re always on the same page, me and you. It’s good.” “It’s working well, innit?” I grinned. “It’s working very well. Even better than I expected. I’m thriving.” He leered. It did seem perfect. I’d expected problems to arise almost instantaneously, but we’d yet to face any. There were no suspicions, nothing was too complicated, it was all going so bloody smoothly. The sound of a phone ringing burst our bubble, Harry quickly recognising it as his own, leaning down off the side of the bed to retrieve it. He went still for a while, staring at the name of whoever was calling him, like he’d frozen. I moved, sitting myself up, Harry staring for so long that he missed the call completely. “Everything alright?” “Uh… Sorry, I need to call them back.” He began to clamber off the bed. “I’ll be back in a minute.” “Okay.” I watched him as he walked out of the room, holding the phone to his ear and storming off to the far end of the corridor, out of earshot, soon talking quietly to ensure I couldn’t hear a word, looking rather miserable from what I could see. I lay back down, granting him the privacy he so clearly desired, but questioning who was on the other end. It wasn’t only down to the way he’d reacted to the call, but the call itself. I’d never seen him take a call in all our time together, I didn’t know of him really having other contacts, people from his past, friends or family; it seemed he’d come to Rosebury and built his existence around our village and us, and everything before that was forgotten. It seemed to me, that Harry was on the phone to his history, or some form of it. And he didn’t seem happy about it.

“I am getting wrecked tonight.” Niall sighed. I could tell everyone wanted to make a night of it, because we’d found ourselves in The Royal Rose, and karaoke was on the cards. We’d only been there around an hour, none of us quite drunk enough to take the stage quite yet, except maybe Lincoln, who had already been and searched through the songbook a total of six times, meaning it wouldn’t be too long. There was a very drunk man already up at the front singing a rather painful rendition of Bat Out of Hell, giving it his all whilst simultaneously looking as though he could nod off at any moment. “I’ve never noticed how long this song is before.” Louis grated, the two of us leaning back against the bar. “Like, I knew it was long, but fucking hell.” “I think he’s doing a beautiful job.” I quipped. “He’s murdering it in his own special way, isn’t he?” He smiled, taking a speedy sip of his pint. Lincoln bounced over us, clearly very excited, clapping his hands together and landing directly in front of us with a thud. “Right, that’s it, I’ve decided… I’m gunna sing Penny Arcade by Roy Orbison. That’s it. That’s the one. Oh my god, it’s gunna be great.” “Great choice!” I beamed. “Terrible choice!” Louis disagreed. “Lincoln, that is one of his worst. He had so many great songs and you’re gunna go with Penny Arcade?” “It’s an anthem.” Lin folded his arm, unimpressed. “It’s not.” After giving Louis a quick middle finger, he ran off to make his request, darting around tables like a madman. “I love that boy.” I cooed. The door opened, myself and Louis turning our heads instinctively, seeing that Harry had finally arrived. With how late he’d been, and the odd call he’d taken earlier in the day, I’d half expected him not to show up. It wasn’t long after the call that I’d left Harry’s home, sensing his low mood and allowing him space. He wasn’t on the phone for long, but whatever had been discussed had changed his mood rather greatly. I’d pretended it wasn’t something I’d picked up on, and left as casually as I could. It genuinely surprised me to see him. I smiled as he headed towards us, hands dug into his pockets, clearly still not quite himself. “Time d’ya call this?” Louis grinned. “Sorry.” Harry apologised sweetly, asking for a pint as soon as he’d got to the bar. “As punishment, you’re up next on karaoke.” Niall stepped into the conversation, Chloe and Libby sat on one of the tables just in front of us, Lin still excitedly talking to the DJ. “I don’t think so.” Harry snorted. “C’mon, you’re Harry Styles, jack of all trades, good at everything, best looking lad in Rosebury-” “Rude.” Louis huffed. “Defender of women and man after my heart. I bet good money you can sing.” “Jack of all trades, master of none.” Harry shrugged, then going to pay for his drink. “Fine, alright, you’ve pulled my leg, we’ll do a duet.” Niall sighed. “I think we could take on Islands in the Stream. Sound good to you?” “It’s not happening.” “I’ll go request it, darling. Don’t worry, you stay here and enjoy your pint. Warm up them vocal chords.” He winked, already on his way to make the request. “Niall!” Harry yelled, being ignored. “NIALL!” “Sorry, mate.” Louis sniggered. “Looks like you’re Kenny Rogers for the evening.” “What? I don’t even get to be Dolly?” He whined. “Niall is always Dolly.” I huffed. We’d all had to sing Islands in the Stream with Niall at some point, so if anything, Harry should have seen it as an honour; it was like his true initiation into the group. But usually, such a duet would take place at someone’s home or in the streets at a ridiculous hour, drunk out of our minds. Harry was sober and he had an audience, which made his proper welcoming to our team a difficult one. Harry paid for his drink, not looking too enthralled by his current situation, but at the same time, I could already see that it had cheered him up, his attempts to force the smile off his lips rather weak. Chloe and Libby got up to join the conversation fully, Chloe standing at my side whilst Libby immediately started poking fun at Harry for his upcoming karaoke session. “I hear you’re taking on Islands in the Stream?” She sniggered. “Apparently, but I don’t want to! I’m kinda… musically inept.” He carped. “Are you fuck.” I sniggered. “And how the hell would you know, Alfie Hunter?” He raised a brow. “Because-” I stopped myself just in time. I was about to go on a rant, how I’d seen the piano in his dining room, the worn down acoustic guitar in his spare room; I was about to say all that out loud to a group of people who knew Harry was private about his home and we wouldn’t be invited around any time soon. Thankfully, I caught on, shutting myself up for a few seconds before changing the course of my sentence. “You… You’re just one of those annoying people, I can tell. One of those dickheads who’s good at everything.” “Not true.” He fought. “Totally true. You’re gunna get up there and sing and you’re gunna be good, I can see it coming.” “You’ve got a nice voice.” Libby said. “Even the way you talk is nice.” “AND,” Niall joined the conversation again, likely having made the request and doomed Harry to a duet. “The face of a Greek god.” “Fucking hell, just got everything going for ya, don’t ya?” Louis confounded. “Got everyone bloody drooling.” “Are you jealous, Louis?” Chloe leaned into his ear. “Nah, I’m just saying, it’d probably be easier if you all to just got on your knees and kissed his arse.” “With pleasure.” Niall played. We were all laughing, including Harry, and I got so much pleasure seeing how happy we were making him, how much he was cheering up. It reminded me once again that Harry had moved somewhere and actually managed to find and make real friends, finally. We’d become this unit of people who could pick him up when he was down and I loved that, I loved that we could give him that, show him what it was like to have a real network of people around him who could make him laugh, people who cared about him, wanted the best for him. I couldn’t imagine what it was like, to have gone so long without that, but I truly hoped that he could see he’d found that in us, and he’d cherish it. “Testing, testing, one two.” We heard Lincoln’s voice from the front of the room, each of us turning to cheer him on. He was waving at us like a fucking child who’d just been dragged up onstage at a pantomime as the DJ introduced him and the song he’d chosen, all of us screaming and hollering like his bloody groupies as soon as the track started. “A light shone in the night some way ahead…” He began, adding in his own movements to accompany the song. Libby, Niall and Chloe started dancing together gleefully, myself, Louis and Harry still leaning against the bar, Harry a little dumbfounded. “Holy shit, he’s really into this, isn’t he?” He gawped as Lincoln performed a rather dramatic air grab. “Yeah, he takes it pretty seriously.” Louis laughed. “I love it. I could watch him do this all night.” I commented. “If it was just Lincoln doing song after song, I’d love it.” “The light I saw in the night was the penny arcade. COME ON!” We all joined in for the chorus. “Step up and play each machine seemed to say, as I walked round and round the penny arcade.” I pushed forward to dance and jump around with the other three idiots, loudly singing along and giving it our all. Louis and Harry remained up against the bar, too cool or sober to join in with us, clapping along and taking in what I imagined was a beautiful sight, the four of us flouncing around like fools with Lin at the front of the room spinning around as he sang. “Just ring the bell on the big bagatelle and you'll make all those coloured lights cascade. And music played, at the penny arcade. Yes it played and it played, played all the time, ROLL UP AND SPEND YOUR LAST DIME!” I felt so bloody happy, surrounded by my favourite people, being silly. The last time we’d gone to karaoke night, I’d still been with Sam, and I remembered we’d gotten into an argument before Lin was even drunk enough to take the stage. It felt nice to be there and to feel weightless, finally. I was so happy. The antics continued throughout the song, the lot of us shooting some life into the place, almost disappointed when it was over. We gave him a well-deserved round of applause, to which he bowed, followed by a quick curtsy, and then he was running back to us, everyone gathering around him excitedly. With no warning, Harry took my jumper between his fingers, dragging me back to him, out of the crowd, my back slamming against his stomach. He leaned down, whispering in my ear. “I’m staying at yours tonight, yeah?” I turned around to face him, creating a little distance so if anyone was to turn around and look, our conversation wouldn’t look suspicious. “Yeah, if you want.” “I want.” His eyes stalked up and down me, pulling me back to him. “Need another taste.” “Shh!” I cried as quietly as I could. “Someone’ll hear you!” “Wanna have you sat on me again. Grinding. Wanna feel you cum on my lips.” I pushed at his chest, stomach twisting, just in time before Niall leapt towards Harry, who was looking so frustratingly innocent, no one could ever guess at the filth he’d just been sharing with me. “C’mon, Styles, we’re up.” “Do I really have to?” He tried to protest one last time. “You really have to.” Niall took Harry’s hand and yanked him out of his place, pulling him to the front of the room so they could sing together, leaving me still feeling a little woozy. I certainly didn’t want to wish my evening away, not when I was having so much fun, but fuck, I really wanted to take him home. I tried to snap out of it as the DJ presented the two of them, stumbling back towards the team who were eagerly awaiting what was bound to be an interesting rendition. The music began, Niall stepping from side to side as Harry awkwardly lifted the microphone to his lips, eyes fixed on the screen, genuinely looking restless and anxious. He needn’t have been “Baby, when I met you there was peace unknown, I set out to get you with a fine tooth comb, I was soft inside, there was somethin' going on.” His voice, as we’d predicted, was lovely. Soft, gravely, deep, beautiful. We’d been expecting it, but then at the same time it felt bloody ridiculous, that it really was another thing Harry could add to his list, another talent, another way in which he was absolutely brilliant. “Oh fucking hell, he really can sing!” Louis blurted as the song continued. “I bet he’s got a big dick as well, it’s an absolute joke this.” I laughed loudly, hanging my arm around his shoulders and giving him a little squeeze before we started swaying from side to side, enjoying that for the first time, Niall was finally singing Islands in the Stream with someone who could actually harmonise with him. I never confirmed Louis’ suspicions, despite being fully aware of just how accurate his statement was.

#hehehehehehehehehHEHEHEHEHEHEHE #lets unpick Harry again shall we #HBS15 #1dff

257 notes · View notes

inyournightmares97 · 7 years ago

Text

TOMORROW TODAY SERIES (Masterlist)

Jinyoung Ver. (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (End)

Word Count: 2.4k+

Warnings: Strong language, discussions of prostitution, sex and other sensitive topics. Don’t read if shaky consent to sexual activities triggers you.

Summary: A road trip to your hometown results in a number of unexpected setbacks. Hopes and fears are revealed, while Jinyoung and Jaebum help you understand that life is difficult for everyone, and nobody ever really knows what they’re doing.

The silence in the room was unbelievably loud. You could only hear the thumping of your own heart. The sound of Jaebum’s soft snoring from across the room and Jinyoung’s gentle breathing beside you were inaudible to your thundering ears.

Jinyoung’s question had sent a sharp jolt through you. Why are we keeping secrets from each other? It took you a few seconds to overcome your own guilt and realize that Jinyoung had phrased it that way intentionally. It wasn’t why are you keeping secrets from me. He wanted to know why you were keeping secrets from each other, which meant that you weren’t the only one who had been hiding things.

“I’ll go first,” you whispered.

Jinyoung turned to look at you, wide eyes watching you calmly. You both loved and hated sharing your feelings with Jinyoung. He always gave you an intense look; the sort of look that made it clear that his entire attention was on you, and that he was hanging on to every word you said. But he never reacted. His expressions rarely betrayed whether he was surprised, or upset or angry. There was no way of knowing what Jinyoung thought about what you were saying, until you finished speaking and asked him what he thought.

“That sounds like a good idea,” he told you softly, when you remained silent. “I’m listening.”

“Money become… tight in college,” you admitted quietly, feeling a bit of shame. You never liked talking about not having money. Being poor was something you kept quiet about in Seoul, like some dirty disability. It affected everything; the friends you made, the people you hung out with… it was all determined by the amount of money you had. “I tried talking to my parents about it, but they wouldn’t really understand. They just sent me the bare minimum I needed to get by, but there are so many other things you need in a city like Seoul…”

Jinyoung nodded. He knew your parents. Spend only what’s absolutely necessary. They had lived their entire lives in a conservative village, so the casual spending culture of the urban cities was strange to them.

“I tried getting other jobs,” you whispered almost desperately. For some reason, you felt the need to justify yourself. You had denied Jaebum all explanations, telling him that your life was none of his business… but Jinyoung was different. You needed him to know that you had tried everything possible, needed him to understand that this was the only route available to you. “But none of them lasted. It was all minimum wage, and they took up so much of my time that I was left too exhausted to study and my academics started falling behind. My parents got my exam results last semester and they were mad, they said we sent you to Seoul to study, so why can’t you even do that and told me I had to quit the jobs or I was coming straight back home to help with the farms.”

Jinyoung sighed. He was only too used to hearing the regular threats that your parents made, saying they would drag you back to your hometown if you did something out of line. “So?” he whispered. “Why didn’t you call me? Why didn’t you call Jaebum-hyung?”

You stared at him. “What could either of you have done?”

Jinyoung blinked. “I don’t know. I would have tried to help-“

You shook your head, tears spilling out of your eyes. That’s what everyone said. Why didn’t you come to me? As if anyone would have done anything. “I didn’t want help or moral support,” you explained firmly. “I wanted money. It’s not like I was going to splurge on luxury clothes or live some kind of high life. I just wanted to be able to go out with my friends without having to constantly eye the bill. I wanted to not have to beg them to go to cheaper places just for me. I wanted to be able to go the club without having to calculate how much tax there is on each drink, is that too selfish?”

Jinyoung bit his lip and stayed silent. He didn’t know how to respond. True, he had been in a tight financial situation since he joined college too, but it was different from yours. Jaebum worked a full-time job and he was always willing to send him money. You didn’t have anyone to support you that way.

You took a deep breath and shuddered. “My friend’s roommate was the one who told me about it. She’d been in the business for about a year already, and she told me about her agency. She said that they handed everything professionally, and they even treated college girls really well because they were looking for intelligent girls in particular and…”

Jinyoung blinked at you. “Agency,” he repeated softly.

You felt sick. “Yeah, it’s… it’s an escort agency.”

“I figured.”

“So I… I went and met them and they seemed really professional about it all,” you whispered. Jinyoung wasn’t saying anything, he was only staring at you. “They assured me of confidentiality, and they said I could clarify what I was okay with and what I wasn’t okay with beforehand, and that they would communicate all of that to the… the client. It all seemed really safe, I took all sorts of precautions, Jinyoung. I swear I didn’t just walk in there like an idiot. I even had pepper spray and a knife on me when I went to meet the first guy.”

Jinyoung was staring at you with large eyes. His lips were pressed together tightly and you could see how worried he looked; the idea that you had been doing these things without his knowledge terrified him. Had you seriously been going to hotel rooms with complete strangers, without any regard for your safety? What the hell was pepper spray going to do in the face of a man who might want to hurt you? He opened and closed his mouth and then took a deep breath to calm himself.

“Okay,” he whispered.

“And the money was really good,” you admitted quietly. “The first guy didn’t even ask me to have…. to have sex with him. He just took me to some party as arm candy and once he got drunk enough, he got wrapped up talking to his business associates and he sent me home in a cab. But I got my cheque through the agency and it just… it seemed like such a small price to pay for so much comfort? I didn’t have to think a hundred times before I bought something. I could go wherever my friends wanted to go. And it only took one evening. I no longer had to work long, painful hours for minimum wage.”

“How did Jaebum-hyung find out?”

You bit your lip. “One of my clients turned out to be a higher-up at Jaebum-oppa’s company. He saw me leaving with him at a social event and figured it out. Apparently the man had a reputation for bringing escorts around everywhere. Jaebum-oppa lost it the next day. He called me and screamed at me, said he was going to go the agency and force them to fire me. It took a long time to calm him down… that’s why things have been so tense between me and him. I’ve been avoiding him for months. He just won’t understand that it’s my life and my body to do whatever I want with.”

Jinyoung looked at you calmly. “You were a virgin.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing this was coming. “Virginity. What is that even? It seems like such a pointless thing to treasure. Does it matter whether you’ve had sex or not? Would anybody ever know unless you told them? I don’t know why this is something so dirty. There are men with primal urges who can’t find anybody to satisfy them and I’m doing it, for a price. Half of these guys aren’t as dangerous and rough as they’re made out to be, Jinyoung. One of my clients was a virgin himself, he was trembling the entire night.”

“These are men that are trying to pay for sex-“

You cut him off. “So? What’s the alternative? Men will do anything to get sex. Aren’t the ones who are willing to pay for it still infinitely better than the scum that try to rape women or sexually harass them without their consent?” you demanded. You ran your hand down your face and sighed, trying to calm down. “I know what’s bothering you, Jinyoung. Prostitution is a horrible thing. Most girls are roped into it at a young age, in terrible conditions and without the slightest idea what they’re being made to do. It’s awful. But I’m not like that. I’m making an informed decision, I’ve taken all the precautions for my safety.”

Something flickered in Jinyoung’s eyes.

“What?” you demanded. “You don’t believe me?”

“I think this is a decision you’re going to regret,” he whispered. Jinyoung took a deep, shaky breath as he sat up. He tried to look you in the eyes. “Do you want to know why I think that?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t… honestly, I don’t like the thought of you meeting strange guys in hotel rooms. You’re putting yourself in an extremely vulnerable position around men that are more powerful than you, and it would take them half a second to hurt you. You know that, right? He could make a sex tape and blackmail you with it, he could drug you, he could kidnap you, he could hurt you because you are the vulnerable one in the situation. Sure, these things could happen to you even if you weren’t in this business but you have to see that the risk is insane,” Jinyoung said firmly.

You nodded silently. “I know, but most of these are rich guys with reputations and sometimes, wives. They have a lot to lose; honestly, my keeping quiet is one of the most important things to them. They’re not likely to blackmail me with sex tapes when they have more to lose.”

“You could get pregnant. You could come down with a disease-“

“I’m taking precautions against those things, I’m not an idiot!”

“But it’s not even any of that,” Jinyoung said firmly. “All those things might or might not happen, but I’m going to tell you what is going to happen. You’re not going to be able to get out of this business.”

You stared at him. “Jinyoung-“

“You said it yourself, didn’t you? This is a shortcut to life. You’re doing this because it’s easier than having to work long hours for minimum wage. Can you go back to the long route once you’ve gotten used to taking the shortcut? Think for a second and tell me whether you really think you’ll be able to work in an office, five days a week for long hours just to get a monthly salary… when you know that you could make the same amount in a single night by letting a guy fuck you? Isn’t that where you’re heading?”

You had no answer to that.

“There’s a reason people keep committing crimes, and it’s not always for the thrill. It’s because once you’ve discovered a shortcut in life, it’s impossible to convince yourself that you still need to ignore it and take the longer and harder route. How long are you going to last in this industry? Another five years? Ten? It’s a sex industry, your value will drop the older you get. Then what? What about when you’re no longer considered attractive by these sleazy men? What will you do then? Your life is going to spiral out of control. You can’t make a decision without thinking about what lies in the future for you.”

You looked up at Jinyoung. His tone was soft, but his words were harsh and you knew that he was being perfectly honest. Jinyoung never sugarcoated things in situations like this. “Nobody can ever know what happens in the future,” you mumbled. “You said it yourself, you don’t know what lies at the end of the path that you’re taking. I could quit the agency once I graduate. I could get a decent job and nobody would ever know how I put myself through college. You don’t know what’s in store for me.”

“There are always things that are beyond your control, sure, but there are also a shit load of things that are in your control. Just because the world is unpredictable doesn’t mean that you can do whatever the hell you want and expect that things might turn out okay. Don’t be that stupid.”

You felt tears brimming in your eyes. “You don’t think I’m responsible enough to handle my own life?”

Jinyoung looked at you quietly. “I never said that. I’m saying that you’re being shortsighted about your decisions. We all have a blind spot when it comes to our own lives. Sometimes we need somebody else to come in and look at it from a neutral perspective, tell us what we couldn’t see from our point of view.”

“Is that why you didn’t tell anyone that you dropped out of college?”

Jinyoung’s eyes widened as he stared at you. Your words had shocked him, and you almost regretted spitting them out in such a harsh manner. It wasn’t his fault that he was being straight with you; you had expected no less from Jinyoung. But his constant attacking of your life choices had made you sensitive, and you suddenly felt the need to point out to him that he wasn’t the most rational decision-maker either. But Jinyoung’s face fell and his voice became quiet.

“How did you…?”

“I figured,” you mumbled. “It’s funny that you can sit here and tell me about taking the hard path when you couldn’t handle it either, Park Jinyoung.”

Jinyoung gave you a small, regretful smile. “I guess I’m a hypocrite, huh?”

You took a deep breath and leaned back against the pillow. Your heartbeat was thudding as you gave him a small smile in return. You felt exposed and part of you was wondering whether you shouldn’t have told Jinyoung everything. Yet there was a sense of relief… at least you weren’t hiding it anymore, at least now all your demons were out in the open. The worst was over for you, and you closed your eyes quietly.

“I think we’re all hypocrites, aren’t we? Tell me what happened.”

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

A/N: This was going to be much longer, but I figured I would separate all the discussions on prostitution into a separate chapter since it might be sensitive to some people and they may want to skip it.

I’m sorry that updates are so slow and taking so long, I’ll try to make them faster. Feel free to send me your thoughts and opinions!

2 more parts to the Jinyoung Ver.!

#got7 #got7 scenarios #jjproject #park jinyoung #jinyoung scenarios #jinyoung angst #jjp #jjproject fanfiction #verse 2 #tomorrowtodayseries #im jaebum #jaebum scenarios #jinyoung imagines #jinyoung drabbles

114 notes · View notes

celestialvexation-arch · 7 years ago

Text

Opia

for @meradorm because i wanted to and i love tolerate you. enjoy uvu~!

“Excuse me? Is everything alright?” You blinked out of your daze, staring up to meet with brown eyes of an android that held an inquisitive shine in them ( Is he doing an internal scan of yourself? A subtle check upon your features to determine the emotion at hand? ). A quick glance at the LED chip showed a loading yellow, confirming your assumption. “Yeah,” you easily answered, brushing off his concerns with a slow exhale. “I mean, as anyone who found the body of a recent murder could be...” You smiled crookedly, a rather piss poor attempt to elicit humor, however dark it was. The lack of reaction regarding it only made it awkward so you cleared your throat, fighting back an embarrassing flush of your face. How goddamn humiliating. “So, you got any clues on who done it or...?”

“We have reason to believe that the deviant has returned to the scene of the crime not too long ago,” he replied as smoothly as marble, the words sounding easy on the tongue. “The body's position has been disturbed at some point, possibly to rid of any additional evidence of its identity or some other reason. We are now asking for any potential witnesses for any odd sights or strange behavior from others.” As he spoke, you couldn’t help but be transfixed by his ever so constant gaze into your eyes.

The strangest aspect concerning it is that it didn’t necessarily feel...uncomfortable as you would expect when someone is staring directly at you. It wasn’t exactly leering though you would think that he is merely attempting to detect any abnormal behavior such as deceit or signs of discomfort. Perhaps it’s part of the training all detectives and law enforcement must go through to accomplish a task but still... You can’t help the feeling of added effort within it. Strange. You’ve never enjoyed the very obvious attempt from others trying to assume details of yourself, trying to expose something that not even you know of and it often elicits an emotion that’s bordering between anger and humiliation. “Right...” you hummed out, finally tearing your gaze away to stare at the police surrounding the scene before them. Okay, this should be easy since you obviously had no hand in the crime itself and it would be understandable in being shaken at the whole thing. And thankfully, that all came into play as this android -- RK800 is the supposed serial number but you didn’t think in regarding him as that -- questioned you, mostly shaking your head at the basic questions such as “Have you noticed any android activity that seems unusual to you?” or “Have you seen anyone, be they human or android, behaving oddly?” At first, he didn’t appear all that disappointed with the lack of leads but you did catch a glimmer of something in those dark brown eyes. They appeared too...bright -- as in being aware of something that he isn’t quite used to. “Very well. It may not be much but every little clue is helpful,” he announced, posture straight and alert. You can’t help but admire how committed he is; of course, you expect all androids to be as such, especially regarding this line of work. However, thoughts of unknown origins began to surface. You started to wonder just how he is when he isn’t...this. When he is relaxed for once and within a serene environment that provided a break from not only the frustrating dead ends of crimes but also the hostile greetings from others. ‘Is his skin soft as those eyes then?’ you thought, dazed once again as your mind wandered off the path of decency and into one of-- “--if that’s fine with you?” A curse tumbled out as you rubbed at your face, lifting your gaze up with a sigh. “What? Sorry, I didn’t catch that,” you mumbled almost in embarrassment. Luckily, the android didn’t appear bothered by your disregarding of attention though his head did cant to the side ( ‘Ah, like a damn puppy,’ you thought to yourself for a split second ). “I asked if it’s alright if we are to meet again for another interview? You seem shaken by the events at hand so it would be beneficial if you acquired rest to lower your stress so you may be in a better state of mind.” ...Holy shit, how did you miss all that? Did you seriously blanked out for that long? “Yeah, that’s fine. I’m a bit disoriented today, anyway. Been a long day and all...” He nodded in acknowledgement, his head turning to a much older man who was calling for him. “Connor, c’mon! Gotta head back to the station for now!” Connor... So that was his name. It sounded...right, to you. Connor turned back to you with a nod in farewell, repeating his offer in a similar statement before leaving to leave with the other gentleman. You observed him walking away with the man, watching how the android move rather fluidly yet casual. Warmth started to spread from your chest but you hardly consider it as anything...affectionate or tender. It was more of anticipation and it was beginning to take your breath away.

The next day came quickly and before you knew it, you found yourself staring at Connor, who has arrived at your humble abode for a second interview. You knew beforehand that he is arriving but for him to be alone... You expected some other police officer or even the lieutenant himself. “I apologize for this inconvenience,” he started, eyes staring intently in yours. “But I believed that you will be more at ease if you are in a familiar and comfortable environment, such as your home. Furthermore, with the hostility towards androids and the station overall rambunctious, it’s only fitting that we are to do the interview here.” You had to blink at the rather smart conclusions, thinking that he is right since you aren’t used to the social world and if things do escalate during the interview, the android will have no choice but to leave regardless since he is a guest here and he would have to abide to the host’s wishes. Bringing him over to the living room, you gestured for the seat across from yours, to which Connor sit himself down in the same straight posture as he would be standing. Body at a complete 90 degrees, he settled his hands along his lap as he stared at you. Struggling to keep your inhibitions at bay, you listened to him as best you could but the words soon began to distort. It wasn’t necessarily static but it was as though Connor is slowly becoming muffled. “...Are you alright?” he voiced, your senses picking up what you assumed is concern. “You appear ill. Have you been eating and drinking normally lately?” Even though he is capable of scanning you for any ailments, it felt as though he doesn’t do so unless it is absolutely necessary or with consent. The thought of that had you flushed at the cheeks and this time, it wasn’t out of embarrassment. “Uh... No. I mean, yes, I’ve been eating well. It’s just that...” God, how do you even say that it is this damn android that is occupying and distracting your mind? How can you reveal thoughts that seem rather indecent and slightly unsettling? Connor had raised a brow at you but you only glanced at him then stood up, rushing to the kitchen. Yes, a glass of water is most appreciated here. You hastily took a glass from the cabinet, filling it with cold water then downing half the glass. The cool liquid felt good traveling down your throat, the glass lowered to the counter as you let out a soft sigh. You were so preoccupied with your thoughts that you didn’t hear Connor until-- “Are you certain you do not acquire anything?” You jumped, turning to find him surprisingly close to you. He’s leaning his body over, attempting to catch anything upon your features that may be out of place. You inhaled slowly, unable to bring your eyes away from the brown gaze. Connor laid a hand along the kitchen counter, you turning fully towards him in time for that hand to reach up and take hold of you chin. You froze. The skin met with yours is... Well, it’s surprisingly normal! It didn’t feel cold or like porcelain as it would with a doll. Instead, the skin felt...just like yours. Soft, warm, and having a gentleness that proved that Connor is taking your health into consideration even if you are merely an eyewitness to the aftermath of a murder. Your tongue came out to wet at dry lips, watching as Connor noticed then paying direct attention to you. “Your body temperature has risen but not to an alarming or worrying level,” Connor noted, turning your head this way and that. You stared deeply into his eyes and up close, you’ve noticed just how vivid the irises were. It wasn’t a dull brown as you would expect from a robot that is to simply solve cases and have a composed, calculated head. They have an energy, a dynamic to them that is similar to everyone else’s you’ve known. It is so...human, as cliche as you thought of it. Connor had leaned forward at some point, you feeling unraveled at how intense his gaze was. Silence rang between you both, the only sounds were the humming of the air conditioner and the drumming beat of your heart. “Your heart...” he murmured, thumb suddenly going up close to your bottom lip. The very organ is quickening in beat but you didn’t seem to notice. Swiftly glancing down at his own lips then back up, Connor searched for something before he smiled... Oh, that smile. It was small but incredibly beatific that it took your breath away. You’ve never would have expected an android to smile so genuinely like that... ...but with Connor, with his soft features that demonstrated a buried benevolence and warmth, it had you come undone, especially with how his eyes followed with crinkling, sympathetic lines. It wasn’t as if he’s incredibly delicate or fragile; there is a mellow serenity to him but you can tell that there is a calm imperturbability that can unnerve even the most hardened soul. You suddenly felt exposed as though he managed to open a heavy door with no help from a key or any other means. It should have angered you; you were vulnerable in the presence of an android who can obtain so much information just by a glance and can utilize it to their advantage, if need be. Just as you wanted to pull the other in to cocoon yourself in that warmth, Connor pulled away and collected his composure by fixing at his tie, smile gone but there is a rather airy mood to him. "If you are currently well,” he started casually as though you two haven’t shared a moment together. “We can continue with the interview.” It didn’t bother you as much that he would be so committed in the investigation. It only had your lips quirking up, filling the glass up again as you hummed, “Yes, of course. Ask away, detective.”

#asdlfa i've done the thing!#there is no smut but..... >w>#jaunty writes a thing

4 notes · View notes