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maximwtf · 1 year ago

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Hi there! first off, I LOVE your fics so much! Secondly, I’d like to request for Stede since I agree, there is a lack of fics for him!! I love the way you’ve written for him so far. Feel free to ignore this if you don’t feel like writing it for whatever reason, of course 💟

Though, perhaps I could request a Stede x reader where the reader sees Black Pete and Lucius’ romance blossom and they think it’s the most endearing thing ever but it also makes them a bit nervous because they have feelings toward someone in the crew (Stede) and they don’t know the first thing about how to express it. Stede noticed the reader is down one day and they accidentally spill their dilemma but they leave Stede’s name out. So then Stede is giving the reader courting lessons pretty much and then after the lessons have “concluded” and Stede’s like “okay now go get ‘em!” pretty much, the reader stands there and is basically repeating back everything they learned to him. He’s not taking the hint so he’s like yes that was wonderful practice, now go and tell the lucky person all of this! And the reader is like well…it’s you. And confessions both ends ensue blah blah💕again if you don’t feel inclined to write this, no worries! Wasn’t sure if you are taking romantic requests for him. But maybe even if you aren’t this plot could still apply just minus the part where the reader uses it on Stede, where he gives the reader courting lessons still and it’s all cute and fluffy?

Stede Bonnet x Reader

Words: 3130

Google docs pages: 5

Warnings: None? Reader is bad with emotions, they don’t know what to do with love. Is the author's inability to write non-tragic romance also a warning? Nah but fr it’s the best fluff I can offer!

Opening: You watch Pete and Lucius’ relationship blossom, becoming jealous of it. Stede notices you being down more often and tries to help, when you end up telling him of a crush you have. He offers to teach you ways to confess, though he doesn’t seem to realise who this crush truly is.

AN// Reader can be any gender ! Thank you for this request, ahh. I don’t usually get excited over fluff, but if it’s for Stede I’m here for it. I hope this came out good !^^ I’m still learning to write for him, this being only the second fic I've made for him wahh

“Go get em’ !”

There were no other words to describe how you felt when you saw Pete and Lucius be able to embrace their love, other than jealousy and melancholy. How they could so openly tell each other that they loved one another, how they could spend time together freely and knew how to tell the other how they felt. If you would have been able to do that, you wouldn’t even be in this position. This feeling wasn’t even you wishing anything bad for them, only wishing that you could have something that they had, with the person you fancied.

But that person walked on deck, having no clue of your silent feelings and admiration. And if you didn’t soon find it in you to somehow tell him, you feared you’d miss your chance eventually. Hell, he was an attractive man and surely there’d come another if you sat at the sidelines and did nothing. But what could you do?

Your whole life, you hadn’t been the emotional kind. Showing any feelings that would show vulnerability was almost automatically forbidden for you. Far before you’d even heard of the Gentleman pirate had you been like this. A rough life at the sea hadn’t been kind, and even if it was more so now, you lived in the olden days. And most of the time when it turned out to be a fault in the new crew, you looked at Izzy and excused yourself. He was similar, so why should you try to change? Being the way you’d always been was comforting in a way, and learning a new set of behaviours sounded exhausting. Having to open up more, and be able to tell someone you cared for that you loved them felt impossible because of that. What if you came off as rude? Or even worse, if they didn’t even feel the same. Especially on a ship where you had to meet the same people every day, having to face the person who rejected you felt horrifying. And you couldn’t possibly keep avoiding this person, he was your captain after all.

Stede Bonnet. The former rich landowner, who had abandoned his previous life in exchange for a pirate’s. An idea that you thought you would possibly never truly understand the reason for. From growing up on a pirate ship, to being a permanent member of his crew, you had no idea why one would like to become a pirate. Almost every day was a fight to win, but this man somehow stayed positive and had taught his crew manners you’d never seen on a ship. You had thought you would never be able to fit in, but so you did. Because he had welcomed you with open arms, like he had known you his whole life. He didn’t care about what you’d done, who you had been or where you’d come from. He cared about who you were now. A truly admirable person in your eyes.

Not to mention, you had an eye for nice fabrics and clothes. You’d never been able to afford them, nor were they practical in the action you had to take part in daily, but did they look nice. And he wore them well, all the ones he’d brought with him on the ship. All the nice colours, shapes and textures were a sight for a sore eye. You didn’t know if he’d ever noticed you checking out his outfits, but you hoped not. What would he even think? If he didn’t know why you were staring, you assumed he would think you were just creepy. Another reason why you didn’t want to confess to him.

But did all of this make your chest ache, long for something that you were almost positive you couldn’t reach. The thoughts started making you distance yourself when the time gave you the possibility. You’d spent time at the bow of the ship, or all the way up in the crowsnest. Places where you could be alone for a moment, to try and convince yourself that eventually you’d tell him.

But during all of this, you failed to notice that your absence hadn’t gone unnoticed, as much as you had hoped that would have been the case. Stede noticed soon after, starting to note that you seemed awfully upset. He had planned to ask you about it, but never could. He almost started blaming himself, if he had done something wrong to scare you off? Perhaps you wanted to leave the crew all together for a yet unknown reason? He knew if that was the case that he would never be able to stop you, but he could always try. Which had originally been the reason why he’d come looking for you. And if you were going to leave, he wanted to say his goodbyes, as much as it pained him to even think of that possibility.

Once more, you leaned to the railing of the ship, watching the vessel make its way forward. Sometimes you wondered if this feeling was all your fault. You were the one basking in melancholy instead of changing. Yet, these thoughts never had enough power to make you actually quit these habits.

The sound of someone coming towards from the hallway near you brought you back from your thoughts. To your horror and pleasure, it was Stede. He noticed your quick turn towards him, giving you a gentle smile before fully emerging through the small door frame, placing himself on the other side. Though, that smile faded rather quickly as he seemed to remember the reason why he’d come to find you. “Ah, I almost ran out of options as to where you could have been!” He said, a slight chuckle in his tone as he unintentionally tried to ease the rather tense atmosphere. You gave him a shrug, keeping your eyes keenly on the water, watching it swirl and hit the ship in waves. “See, I came to ask you how you’ve been feeling? You seem like you’re keeping something bottled up?” He continued to speak, guessing you had nothing to say to his first comment. Though, this one froze you. What could have you said? That he was the reason why you’d been upset this whole time? Blame Lucius and Pete for all of this? Or were you upset because of yourself. “Homesick, you know how it is.” You lied, trying to joke off the question. But your attempt had gone down the drain, only making Stede furrow his brows in concern. He knew you were lying, knowing you viewed the ship as your home. “Please, it’s not good to continue like this. Better to talk it out.” He insisted, making you bite your inner lip in return. Like you were holding back something you feared you might slip on accident.

Yet, that helped as much as rowing a boat without oars. “I fear the person I care for doesn't feel the same.” You sighed, ashamed of admitting to your feelings. Your gaze was tilted faintly upwards, eyes watching the water, too scared to look at Stede. A gentle hum came from his side. “Then why don’t you go ask?” The advice sounding like he was relieved it hadn’t been anything worse than that. But to you, this was as worse as it was ever going to get. Being stuck with feelings you didn’t know how to express. But even that feeling, the frustration was hard to show to him. Having to keep him in the shadow from how you felt. You shook your head, lowering your gaze. “I don’t know how.” A defeated sigh leaving you as your shoulder slumped down. If you were to guess, an empathic expression had appeared on Stede’s face. He stayed silent for a moment, before placing a hand on your shoulder. You almost pulled away, startled by the sudden touch. Yet there was something so comforting about it that it didn’t take you long to ease into it. “If you want to, I could offer you a few tips on confessing in the proper way?” The captain suggested, voice gentle as ever. He spoke with confidence, knowing that he could possibly help you. And you knew that, but that hadn’t been the reason for your reply. “Oh, I would appreciate that.” Even if he couldn’t help you, you could finally spend time with just him, as he talked to you about the subject of love, having no clue that he was that subject for you.

And after that conversation, you collected all of the courage in you as you prepared for the first meeting of the few you would continue to have with him. And with a deep breath, you pushed the door open that led to his quarters, finding the man himself seated on one of the couches. He got up to greet you, starting the ‘lesson’ soon after.

You sat in front of him, listening as he talked. “You didn’t tell me more about this person. What kind of confession would fit them? If it is a pirate, I’m not so sure a fancy confession is the thing you need.” He laughed the comment off faintly, a hint of doubt in his voice. “N-no! I’m sure- they’d love it.” You answered rather abruptly, thinking he might be rethinking this offer. “Well then…A confession is often considered a private matter. So you would find a place such as that to confess in. You would usually think the wording of the confession beforehand, polite and respectful.” The man started, his eyes looking up as he thought of how these tips could be used on a ship. As he paused speaking his thoughts out loud, he turned to you, as if waiting for you to have questions. But you didn’t, you looked at him keenly, waiting for him to continue. “Well- You could ask them out to eat before confessing. But I’m not so sure you could do that here, I’m afraid.” He said, tilting his head a little at the shame of that. “Thoughtful gestures are an alternative, perhaps a small gift or a letter?” He added after, clearly deep in thought as he tried to come up with something that was doable on a ship. “I’m not so gifted with my hands.” You muttered, thinking of the possibility of giving him a gift. After all, he was describing the way he had been taught to confess, so you wanted to follow those tips he gave you. “You don’t have to be, a confession on its own is good enough.” He smiled, shaking his head slightly.

You turned to look at your feet, silent as you thought of what he’d said. Though, the moment didn’t last long as Stede spoke up again. “How about we practise the tips I gave the next time we meet?” He asked, tilting his head slightly. You turned to look at him, blinking your eyes a couple of times. “On who?” He couldn't have possibly been suggesting that you-, “on me, if that is alright with you.” He said, a friendly smile on his face, per usual. You blinked again, faster this time. “I- Of course.” You nodded, internally stunned by the suggestion, having to shake your head slightly to bring you back into the moment. You would have to learn how to keep your cool, this was practically the same thing you’d have to say to him when you actually told him.

After that, he gave you a couple more tips, explaining the almost laughable mannerisms he had been taught or that he had read of. It amused you to watch him make fun of the things he had been taught into, giving you the slightest of ideas why he had chosen the life you’d had to live for most of your life. By the sound of it, you would have most likely done the same.

You went to the next meeting with him, this time more relaxed. He stood in the middle of his quarters. By the way he was breathing he must have just moved some of the furniture out of the way. “Evening.” You greeted him, looking around as you walked in. “Ah, just in time.” Stede smiled, nodding his head as a greeting when you came closer. “I thought tonight we’d try the advice in action, what do you say?” He asked after his initial comment, seeing as you hadn’t said anything. “Oh, of course. Yes. How do I start?” You asked, looking around as if exploring the cabin, a desperate attempt to hide sight of you being flustered. A light laugh left Stede before he replied. “If it’s okay, I thought I’d show an example first.” Your gaze snapped to him, soon after looking at your feet again to not seem odd. “Ah, of course.” You nodded, taking a small step back to give the man space.

Stede cleared his throat, taking something from the table near him and stepping towards you. “A private place.” He hinted at the space the two of you were in before going forward with the example. He brought his hand towards you, handing you a nicely folded piece of paper. You took it with a slightly shaky hand, trying to keep in mind that he was only giving you an example, having no idea of how you truly felt.

You weren’t sure what to say so you automatically opened the paper, eyes scanning over the words on it. You didn’t have to read often, so the skill hadn’t developed much, but if you read slowly enough you understood what the short letter said. A few compliments, subtly hinting at his yet hidden ‘feelings’. You looked up at him, lowering the letter. “I- Thank you?” You stuttered out, an awkward look appearing on your face as you realised how rusty it sounded in a situation like this. Stede only gave you a polite smile before offering you a hand. “Please, allow me to fetch us a place to sit.” He said, leading you to one of the couches. He allowed you to sit down first, taking a seat only after. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything to offer you. But let us use imagination.” The man in front of you explained, you gave him a nod while folding the piece of paper into your pocket. “When do you confess?” You asked, turning your gaze on him. “Well, we’d eat and maybe after or a little later you’d pull them aside to tell them.” He said, standing up and leading you to the middle of the room yet again.

You stood in front of him, listening as he spoke. “Dear, I hope you’ve had a pleasant evening. But before it ends, I wished to tell you my admiration for you. Because I do fancy you.” He spoke calmly, knowing exactly what to say. You bit your inner lip, nodding after. “Alright.” Stede put his hands together, pleased with how it was going so far. “Do you want to give it a try?” He asked, tilting his head. You blinked a couple of times, nodding your head before even giving it a proper thought. “Okay, whenever you’re ready.” He said, giving you space. You took a deep breath, deciding that this was going to be it. You’d confess to him, and somehow manage to make him realise that you were being serious.

You walked up to him, taking a moment before pulling the same letter he’d given you out of your pocket, handing it to him. He looked a little surprised, but still accepted the offer and looked over the letter quickly, as if he didn’t know what was in it. “Ah, thank you. Go on.” He smiled, looking back up. “It’s only the truth. I wished to show you how much I admire you, because I have had my eye on you. Stede, I fancy you.” You said, adding his name in as a desperate way to try and make this more obvious. But instead, he put his hands together, seemingly excited. “Ah, that’ll do it, almost swooned even me. I think you’re ready, go get em’!” He nodded firmly after, nothing but kindness in his eyes. Yet the longer you looked at him the more it seemed like he wasn’t so happy about what he’d just said. Like he hadn’t wanted to say it at all. You bit your inner lip for a moment, having to insist on making him understand. “I admire you, have for a long time.” You said, almost repeating yourself. Stede furrowed his brows, smiling at you a little awkwardly, now more confused than anything. “Wonderful practice. Now, go and get this lucky person!” He encouraged you. “Stede I’m-” You took a breath, not even sure what to say anymore. He hadn’t taught you what to do if the person you’re confessing to is the person teaching you how to confess.

By this point the man in front of you seemed worried, offering a hand out to you. “Are you feeling alright?” He asked, placing his hand on your shoulder. You looked at the floor before taking a hold of his wrist, gently. Your eyes looked into his, desperate to make him understand even if you couldn’t show it properly with words or small subtle actions. “I fancy you, Stede.” You said, and as soon as he was opening his mouth again, you quickly added in, “it’s you.” This made him close his mouth for a moment, soon a softer look appearing on his face. “I love you.” You mumbled out to avoid any tense silence from forming. “Dear, did you go through all this trouble to confess to me?” He smiled, seemingly relieved yet he said nothing of it. You gave him a slow nod, afraid this was only the starting point of him rejecting you. “Because I was afraid I was losing you from the moment you started disappearing to this moment right now.” He added, gently pulling you towards himself to offer a hug, which you accepted.

He felt warm, somehow he managed to also smell better than any other pirate you’d been close to. “I assumed you were leaving the crew and later realised I must have missed my opportunity with you.” He said, pulling back slightly, still close to you. You humoured the thought of him somehow sensing you didn’t want to go far from him at that moment. “You thought I was going to leave?” You asked, furrowing your brows, slightly amused. Though, you understood why he had thought that. He didn’t answer, only giving you a faint eye roll before placing a hand to the side of your neck, his thumb pushing your chin up slightly, making you look up at him. “I fancy you too.” He said, that being the only thing you’d ever wished to hear him say.

AN// Yall TRUST I proof read this, but with the mindset of someone who hasn’t slept. Also why is Stede so hard to find good images of, bros making a face in like 99% of all images >:(

#stede bonnet #stede bonnet x reader #ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd x reader #our flag means death x reader #x reader #fanfic

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hughiecampbelle · 3 months ago

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hello hello!! hope you're doing well <3 so i saw ships were open again... and i did get one as an anon a while ago, but the format has changed for the 10k so back i am for your amazing writing <3

i'd love to be shipped with someone from the boys!! (i do feel bad requesting for specific characters even though it's incredibly easy to see who i want to smooch in this show. i love them all though and above all love to see authors get creative. go crazy go bonkers. ok with any character but the deep, homelander, stormfront, and firecracker.)

i'm a bi & ace jewish brazilian girl, 1.72m tall, with long, straight, brown hair (that i've always thought about dying but always chickened out of). no tattoos, even though i have a list of which ones i'd get and what do they mean. i'm from brazil but currently go to college in new york, majoring in theatre and minoring in translation. i'm fluent in portuguese and english, learning french, and have the life objective of becoming a polyglot.

i'm in love with theatre, literary analysis, linguistics, music, writing, and art in general — will absolutely ramble about anything i am interested in, and also might have strong opinions on stuff that maybe i didn't need to have a strong opinion on 💀 i can get a bit combative about that at times... i definitely take as my biggest skill, besides singing and acting which are quite literally my intended job (i want to be a musical theatre actress), eloquence and just my way with words (toxic trait is believing i'd talk my way out of a murder fr fr). friends that know me more recently would even say i'm an extrovert because of that, but honestly i am a pile of nerves of an introvert with social anxiety that simply loves yapping and putting on a show. most notable quirk/habit might be how precise i always am with finding the right words because i simply cannot leave an opening for misinterpretation (and that's on anxiety and a suspicion of undiagnosed adhd oops); that might lead me to be a bit picky (for the lack of a better word), specific, and/or literal with the words other people use as well.

other tidbits: i can't cook for shit, i love cats (i have a rescue named lily) but also like dogs a lot, i love kids and have been told i'm good with them. i'm crazy lucky for some reason and i love crime comedy movies. i'm almost always writing or thinking about writing but i can't ever finish a project (and you may have realized by now i write too much). i love arts & crafts & other manual activities, i do knot friendship bracelets to de-stress. my default hangout with anyone ever is grabbing coffee. i'm also pretty proud of my music taste — from alt rock to 40s-50s music, love curating the vibes and i'm a bit of a playlist freak. also i would 100% show brazilian music (mostly rock and mpb, brazilian popular music) to whoever i'm paired with 💥🇧🇷

when it comes to love life oh boy i am a disaster — the two situations i have ever gotten myself into were the objective hottest girl i know and the weirdest guy i've ever come across (and both are my good friends atm). for me doing something creative, like a project together, is the quickest way to bond; and being in cahoots with someone is the deepest form of connection. let's ramble about our interests, be weird together, cause a diplomatic crisis, watch a movie, write something, idk.

this was LOOONG but i hope it's not too much and it gives you plenty of material to write with!! thank you so much for carrying the the boys fandom on your back enna <3

Annie is actually blown away by both your love of and intelligence with languages. She's always trying to learn both Portuguese and French sayings (mostly nicknames/"I love you") to surprise you. She loves the look of joy on your face when you realize what she's trying to say. Her pronunciation could use some work, but it's still very adorable

It melts Annie's heart when she sees you around children. She knows it can be a lot, with kids and their parents running up to her, asking her for pictures, showing off their Starlight costumes. She would understand it got a little exhausting. But you have never minded, instead you ask them questions and make them laugh, telling them they're little superheroes, too

Annie feels like she can truly be herself around you. After all those years with the religious conventions and the time she spent with Vought, she was never allowed to be herself. She couldn't show off her real laugh that's squeaky and high-pitched. She couldn't swear as a teenager or say all the crude jokes she thought of. With you, though, she can let loose. She doesn't have to uphold this image like she's had to her whole life

You and Annie are as equally terrible at cooking. You make a plan to cook together, learning recipes and measurements. Sometimes the food gets burned, or worse, under cooked, and a few times you've had to split it out, wondering where you went wrong? But, overall, it builds your skills together and it makes you feel better about your lack of skills

Annie comes to every show you're in at least three times. She'll bring Hughie and Kimiko first, then M.M. and Frenchie, and the third time she goes along, wanting to see you in your glory, feeling like this moment belongs to her. She shows up with flowers every time and tells you parts and songs she's loved as if you hadn't spent weeks practicing lines and songs with her. She's so proud of you, she can't contain herself. She definitely happy cries at the end when you take your bows!

Want to request a ship?

My love!!!! I hope you like it!!!! :D Xoxoxo💜💜💜💜

#hughiecampbelle10k-ships #ship #annie january

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zyafics-recs · 13 days ago

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reblogging comment review by @zyafics

LITERALLY FINISHED AN ASSIGNMENT AND NOW I CAN TAKE A BREATH LETS GOOOO (long annotations below ⬇️)

Arrogant, volatile, downright psychotic — Rafe was a walking disaster.

my psychopath lets gooo

The cabin was small and sparsely furnished: a bunk, a tiny porthole high on the wall, and a single chair bolted to the floor.There was a faint hum of the ship's engines, a constant reminder that you were far from land and any chance of immediate rescue.

ur descriptions paints the scene of s2ep10 when they were on the ship so well, like i remember staring at your words going: wow 😦

"They left. Now, you're my problem. Lucky me.""Now, what am I going to do with you?"

why r all the crazy ones so fine

“To you? Or Ward? Do you only get this cocky when daddy’s not around to rein you in?”

i love LOVE when the reader provokes rafe using his father like bro that's such a trigger for him rein it in 😭

The punch came so fast, you didn’t see it coming. Pain exploded across your jaw, and you tasted blood. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. “You don’t fucking talk about her, dirty pogue. Ever.”

YOOOOOO 😡

The path led deeper into the heart of the island, the dense foliage casting long shadows as the sun began to set.

god, i love ur descriptions so much u don't understand i'm taking notes as i read this 📝

He blinked, momentarily thrown off guard by your words, “Stay out my fucking way or I’ll kill you myself.”

i love how much of a psychopath he is in this fic, like yes, this is the crazy man of s2 (i can fix him 🤞🏻)

He was a product of his environment, molded by a father who saw him as nothing more than a means to an end.

YES, i love maybank!reader's deep analysis of rafe bc we know and that doesn't excuse his behavior but it helps us understand him 🥹

But beneath it all, there was something else. Something you’d seen before, when you looked at yourself in the mirror after you took the biggest beating of your life and Luke finally got thrown into jail: hope.

i love her lore so so much!!

And you began to see a way out, not just for yourself, but for Rafe too.

she's a love not a fighter fr 😩

"Because he's family. And sometimes, family is all you have. Even when they’re terrible, even when they hurt you, sometimes you can’t just walk away.""Family's supposed to be everything, right?"

my daddy issues babies, sometimes i wanna push u two together like barbie and ken during play sessions (am i making sense idk anymore)

The sight of the blood staining your arm made his expression shift from bewilderment to fury.

I LOVE LOVE LITTLE DETAILS LIKE THIS

“Shut up. Just… shut up.” He turned back to you, his eyes softening slightly as he took in the sight of your injured arm

he has a heart !!!!

"So this is all about you, then? Your precious ass and how it looks to Ward? Typical Cameron bullshit, only caring about themselves."You don't know what you're talking about," he said, his voice dangerously low. "You think this is easy for me? Keeping you safe, dealing with all this? It's not just about me. It's about keeping everything under control."

one of the things i admire so heavily with your writing is ur ability to write tense dialogues, the way they fight back and forth with words!! like i love it so so much!!

"You're impossible," he hissed, his voice a raw whisper."And you’re a coward," you shot back, your voice equally low but no less fierce.The next moment happened in a blur. Rafe’s grip tightened, and before you could process what was happening, his lips crashed into yours with a ferocity that left you breathless.

LOVE LOVE A HATE KISS

the poetry!!! shakespeare!!! u can write hamlet but can william write this?!?!?

"You're impossible," he muttered against your lips, the words barely audible over the sound of your heavy breathing."And you’re an asshole,” you shot back, your voice breathless, your body arching into his touch.He pulled back just enough to look at you, the tip of his nose brushing against yours slightly "Drive me fucking crazy.”

i love when they're making out but they find ways to take shots at each other "I hate you," you panted, pouring as much venom into your words as possible. Your thighs tightened around his hips, feeling every inch of him against you. “Your body doesn’t,” He replies coldly, each syllable slowly drawn from his throat, "“Fucking asshole.”“Fucking brat.”

he's such a prick 😭 i want him in my bed

"Eyes on me,” he growled, his voice rough and commanding. "Let me see you.”

one of the hottest things a man can say to me

“Y-You—“ He sighed, pausing, “Don’t pull that shit again. I’ll get you out, okay?

one of my favorite scenes got me kicking my feet like a school girl (dude u CARE stfu 😭)

“We’re getting out.”You wanted to believe in him more than anything. In that moment, it was the only thing that mattered, “Yeah?"“Yeah, pretty Maybank. You and me."“Okay.”“Okay.”

I'M OBSESSED WITH YOUR WORDS OH MY GOD

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FINAL THOUGHTS | okay okay, let me catch my breath because that smut (their banter!!) was so fucking hot 🥵 (why do i use emojis like a middle school boy? anyways) i think what i truly noticed from this fic is how compelling you can make a scene. the way you built transitions so seamlessly through strong descriptions about what's going on (plot wise!) and it's such an admirable skill that i deeply deeply wish i have. especially because the language and vocabulary you use are so clean and expressive without making the audience (like me) feel dumb about not knowing the definition (does that make sense?) also also. as i always point out, i'm obsessed with your build-up dialogues. right before we hit the intense parts, you manage to build up this anticipation and adrenaline from reader and rafe arguing back and forth. and what i appreciate is how you kept the enemies part of enemies to lovers all the way through, only concluding that reader feels complicated near the end. like i love that she didn't fold; she continues to be defiant and her and that brings me to another trait i love about ur writing: ur consistency in your readers. if u plan on making a certain reader rebellious, you keep it to the very end and i love that. oops, this is getting a little too long. anyways, as always, incredible work gigi, i would love to see more of maybank!reader from you especially a second part to their escape (and what it means for them to be back in obx together?? her brother's reaction?? 🫠)

THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18)

request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 🫣 the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea that’s all I got you can do whatever else the rest 😛" + "def some little smut during the enemies part and a long story"

WARNINGS: maybank!reader; kidnapping; smut!; violence!; rafe is a red flag; guns and blood; p in v; they tell each other to shut the fuck up a lot lmao;

word count: 8k...im sorry

The sun dipped low, painting the Outer Banks marshes in shades of fiery orange. Tensions between the Kooks and the Pogues had hit a fever pitch, and in the middle of it all? Rafe Cameron, the last person you'd want to encounter. Ever.

Every run-in with him left a bitter taste in your mouth, lingering for days. It was like he had a knack for getting under your skin. Arrogant, volatile, downright psychotic — Rafe was a walking disaster. Each interaction with him sucked the life out of you. You were convinced that nothing good could ever come from being around him. And yet, there you were, another Maybank, caught in the chaos of the island's most influential family feud.

You knew the risks, but loyalty drove you forward. And now? Well, now you were in deep shit.

Your plan had been reckless, fueled by the desperate need to save Sarah from her deranged family and retrieve Pope's stolen cross. Everything had gone smoothly until chaos erupted, and you found yourself abruptly yanked away from the corridor by a strong grip on your arm, before you could even call out for your brother and Kie. Another hand clamped over your mouth, stifling any attempts to scream. In a blur, you were dragged into a dimly lit cabin, the men's hold on you unyielding. Struggling was futile against his iron grip. He tossed you inside, slamming the door shut and locking it behind him. The gravity of your situation hit hard immediately – you were alone, at the mercy of Ward Cameron. The man who'd silenced anyone who dared oppose him, even going as far as faking his own death, kidnapping his own daughter, and manipulating his son into committing murder.

Because in his twisted world, family trumped everything. Even murder.

Your mind raced as you took in your surroundings. The cabin was small and sparsely furnished: a bunk, a tiny porthole high on the wall, and a single chair bolted to the floor. There was a faint hum of the ship's engines, a constant reminder that you were far from land and any chance of immediate rescue. You quickly assessed your options. The door was solid, and you didn't have anything strong enough to force it open. Fuck, fuck fuck.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. Panic wouldn't help; you needed a plan. But then, like a nightmare come to life, the devil himself stepped into the room, his eyes piercing as they landed on you. The man who had captured you stood behind him, a smug grin on his face.

Rafe was visibly surprised to see you, but he quickly concealed it behind a cold, calculating expression. His forehead glistened with sweat, his hair damp and sticking to his temples. His shirt clung to his back, soaked through from the scorching heat, and beads of perspiration trickled down his face. He wiped his brow with a weary hand and his gun gleamed ominously in the dim light.

"Well shit,” Rafe said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Look what we have here. Didn't expect to see ya again so soon pretty Maybank.”

You tried to keep your expression neutral, but your mind was racing with questions. Where were your friends? Were they safe? Was your brother even alive? Before you could ask, Rafe continued, his tone mocking.

"Your brother really did a number on you, huh? Left you behind without a second thought. Typical Maybank shit, huh? Always knew you were unreliable."

Son of a bitch. You clenched your fists, fighting to keep your composure. "You're lying," you countered, your voice steady despite the fear gnawing at you, "He wouldn't leave me."

Not unless he was forced to.

Rafe chuckled, a dark, humorless sound. "Believe what you want. They left. Now, you're my problem. Lucky me."

“You’re lying.”

His eyes gleamed with a dangerous glint as he advanced towards you. You took a step back, but there was nowhere to go. The cold, metal wall pressed against your back, mirroring the chill that had settled in your bones.

"Now, what am I going to do with you?" he mused, tilting his head as if genuinely contemplating your fate. The gun in his hand swung lazily at his side, but you knew better than to think it wasn't ready to be used at a moment's notice. You swallowed hard, your mind frantically searching for a way out of this hellhole. He was unpredictable and volatile; years of snorting cocaine and family trauma did that to some people.

But maybe, just maybe, you could reason with him.

“Rafe, listen. You don't have to do this. Let me go and we can both walk away from this. No one has to get hurt."

Again.

His laugh was sharp and bitter. "You think I'm going to let you go just because you asked nicely?" He stepped closer, his breath hot against your face. "Nah. You're going to stay right here until I decide what to do with you.“

You tried to keep your breathing steady, but fear clawed at your chest. The odds were against you, as they had always been your entire life.

"What do you want, Rafe? The cross? We can make a deal."

His eyes narrowed, the amusement fading.

"You think this is about money? About that fucking cross? This is about power. Control. And right now...huh, shit, I control you." He leaned in, his voice a deadly whisper. "The cross is mine now. How do you feel about the Bahamas?”

Your top lip curled in disgust, “I’d rather drown.”

His smile twisted into something even darker. “I think you’re worth more alive, at least for now.”

You refused to show him any more fear. “To you? Or Ward? Do you only get this cocky when daddy’s not around to rein you in?”

Rafe’s expression hardened, and for a moment, you thought you’d pushed him too far. He leaned in close, his eyes cold and unforgiving.

“Watch your fucking mouth, Maybank. You don’t know anything about my family.”

You laughed bitterly, unable to stop yourself. “Yeah, no. You're right. Just that you're dad’s little lapdog, doing his dirty work while he pretends to be some upstanding citizen. And where’s your mom in all this? Oh! She left.”

Anger took over you like wildfire, burning hotter than the pain. Your jaw throbbed, but the rage was stronger. You wanted to hit him back, to wipe that smug look off his face, to make him feel the hurt he had inflicted on you. Your fists clenched at your sides, every muscle in your body taut with the desire for retribution. The fury in your eyes matched the darkness in his.

You spat blood at his face, glaring up at him defiantly. “You’re just a puppet. Your sister hates you, your dad uses you, and deep down, you know it. You’ll never be more than his bitch.”

His grip tightened painfully, rough fingers digging into your flesh, lips twitching into a snarl, but you didn’t flinch. If you were going down, you’d go down fighting. His eyes flickered with something you’d never seen in him, before he released you, stepping back. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you? So tough.”

“Smarter than you,” you shot back. “At least I know who I am. What are you, Rafe?“

He stared at you, tongue pressed against his cheek, eyebrows furrowed. Then he laughed, a harsh, grating sound that sent chills down your spine. His hand reached out, and your breath stilled throat tightening as he fiddled with a lock of your hair. He’d let out another laugh, entirely dismissive of the trepidation you’d felt stuck.

“You’ve got guts, Maybank. It's gonna get you killed.“

You wiped the blood from your mouth, meeting his gaze with unwavering defiance. “I’ve survived worse than you.”

And you had. If anything prepared you for violence, drugs, and pain, was living with Luke Maybank your entire life. And maybe, if you didn’t hate Rafe with every fiber of your being, after everything he’d done, you’d feel sorry for him. But you didn’t, and he sure as hell didn't feel sorry for you.

For a moment, the room was silent except for the low hum of the ship’s engines. Then Rafe turned on his heel, motioning to the man by the door. “Watch her. Make sure she doesn’t go anywhere.”

“Do I look like fucking Michael Phelps? Where the fuck would I go? We’re on a ship you crazy bastar—Hey! Rafe! Open the fucking door!”

The door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing through the small, dimly lit cabin. You listened to his footsteps fade away, feeling a sense of relief and dread settle in your chest. What the fuck had you gotten yourself into? They could kill you, dispose your body in the ocean and no would give a single fuck. No one would think you’d gone missing, because you’re a Maybank and that’s what your kind of people did, apparently. Your brother would probably assume you’re dead, he’d try to get justice and fail in the end, because the rich always won.

The musty air of the cabin felt oppressive as you turned away from the small porthole, where the bright sun and endless expanse of blue ocean taunted you from beyond. Days had melded into one another, each marked only by the arrival of meals and the sporadic presence of Rafe. You had hoped for some sense of clarity, some hint of what your future held, but his visits offered nothing but insults and foreboding silence.

You paced the small room, your mind racing with the possibilities of what they had planned for you. The guard remained a silent sentinel, a constant reminder that escape was not an option. But then, the cabin door creaked open again, and you tensed as Ward Cameron stepped in, his presence commanding immediate attention.

He gave a nod to the guard, who stepped out, leaving you alone with the man who held your fate in his hands. A fucking lunatic with enough means to play for all the dramatics he enjoyed. Great.

"Get comfortable," Ward said, his voice smooth but carrying an edge that set your nerves on edge. "We're almost there."

"Almost where?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

"The Bahamas," he replied, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "A little slice of paradise, if you will."

"And what happens then?" you pressed, needing to know more.

Ward studied you for a moment, as if weighing how much to reveal. “Keep out of sight, stay quiet. Rafe and I have some business to attend to, and we can't afford any distractions."

"And if I refuse?" you challenged, though you knew the answer.

Ward's smile widened, but there was no warmth in it. "Let's not be stupid, sweetheart. You're here because you know too much. Refusing isn't an option. Cooperation, however…”

A chill ran down your spine at his words. The stakes were clear, and you realized that your only chance was to play along, at least until you could figure out a way to escape this nightmare.

The rest of the day passed in a tense haze. Eventually, you felt the ship slow, the engines quieting as you approached your destination. When the door opened again, Rafe was there, his expression unreadable.

"Time to go," he said simply, motioning for you to follow, "Move."

You stepped out onto the deck, the warm, salty breeze hitting your face as you looked around. The sight of the lush, tropical landscape did little to ease your anxiety. You were led to a smaller boat, and soon you were speeding towards a secluded island, the main landmass of the Bahamas visible in the distance. This was a world away from the familiar streets and faces of The Cut. It was straight out of a postcard. Something you and JJ would fantasize about while high of your asses and writing bucklists.

God, JJ. You only hoped he made it. You’d never gone a day without each other before you were dragged into this mess last summer. It wasn’t fair. You only wanted enough money to get by, an easy fix to get everything sorted, finish college, ship your dad somewhere far away from you two. But Ward’s greedy ass had to ruin everything for you.

As the boat neared the shore, you couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom. The island loomed closer, its pristine beaches and swaying palm trees offering a stark contrast to the danger that lurked just beneath the surface.

Rafe’s hand gripped your arm, his grasp tight and unyielding as he led you onto the sandy beach. Ward followed close behind, his expression unreadable as he surveyed the scene before him.

"This way," he said, his voice cutting through the sound of the waves crashing against the shore. You followed obediently, your mind racing with possibilities. Escape seemed unlikely, but you clung to the slim hope that you could find a way out of this mess. As you walked, you couldn't help but wonder what awaited you on this remote island.

The path led deeper into the heart of the island, the dense foliage casting long shadows as the sun began to set. You could feel the weight of Ward and Rafe's gazes on you, their presence a constant reminder of the mess you were in.

Finally, you reached a clearing, and your heart sank as you saw what awaited you. A small house. In the middle of nowhere. Oh god, you were a dead woman.

“This will be your home for the time being," Ward said, his voice cold and unfeeling, as if he was offering you a vacation rental and not kidnapping you. You wanted to protest, to demand answers, but you knew it was futile, there was a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, it practically swallow you whole.

“My son will be keeping you company, don’t get too excited.”

The way Rafe’s head snapped in his father’s direction told you more than what you needed to know. Once again, daddy dearest was calling the shots without taking his opinion into consideration. Ward’s casual cruelty was suffocating, a stark reminder of the power he wielded over everyone. As he turned to leave, leaving no space of negotiations or pleadings, Rafe’s eyes bored into yours. No questions asked, only blind devotion to his father.

The door slammed shut, leaving you alone with Rafe once more. He looked at you, resentment playing across his face and something inside you urged you to fight.

“I’m not going to make this easy for you," you said, your voice a low growl, “I’m not dying here. Not with you.”

Rafe chuckled, greasy bangs moving as he shook his head, “You really think you have a choice here?” He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming in the confined space, “You think you’re special? Nah, Maybank. He’ll get rid of you eventually, don’t worry.”

“Exactly. He will, not you. You don’t have any control either and I think you hate being here as much as I do. That shit makes us both prisoners.”

He blinked, momentarily thrown off guard by your words, “Stay out my fucking way or I’ll kill you myself.”

You were sure he wouldn't, only if Ward asked him to. He’d fucked up enough before, when he accidentally shot Sarah and didn’t look the slightest bit apologetic. You know he wouldn’t do it again, not if he wanted to keep his head on his shoulder and his trust fund. Ward Cameron hated slips ups, hated even more the monster he raised, but he sure came in handy when he needed him.

Rafe’s words hung in the air like a noose, but you refused to let them tighten around your neck. "Empty threats," you shot back, squaring your shoulders. "I've dealt with bigger monsters than you, Rafe."

For a moment, a flicker of doubt passed through his blue eyes. They were bloodshot red, perhaps from the lack of sleep or maybe because he was high off his mind, you didn’t care to ask. But just as quickly, his usual sneer returned. "Enjoy your stay, Maybank.”

With that, he turned and left the room. Him and the stupid slamming of doors. You were alone again, your pulse racing but your resolve intact. You had to get out of here. You knew it wouldn't be easy, but you were a Maybank—survival was in your blood. You took stock of your surroundings once more, this time with a sharper eye. The walls were thin, the windows barred, but there had to be some weakness, some way to exploit the situation. You ran your fingers along the seams of the walls, looking for anything that might give. Your mind raced through every piece of advice JJ had ever given you about breaking and entering. You’d done a lot of that over the years, and while most people thought you pogues were simply criminals, they never cared enough to ask why you and your brother spent so much time in and out of the sheriff’s department.

So, what if two dirty, no-good kids were barely hanging on for dear life? No one gave a shit.

Weeks blurred into each other, each one marked by the same routine. Rafe's visits, Ward's looming threats, and the endless search for an opportunity to escape. You watched Rafe carefully, noting his every move, his every interaction with Ward. You noticed the way Ward belittled him, treating him more like a tool than a son. It was a toxic dynamic, one that made you wonder if Rafe was as much a victim as you were. You’d seen bits and pieces before, but Sarah had described Ward as some sort of saint up until recently. Rafe on the other hand? Their dynamic was so different from what you were used to. You and JJ were like two peas in a pod, you’d die for him and you know he would do the same, no questions asked. If there was one good thing in your life, it was your brother.

You couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity for Rafe, despite everything he'd done. He was a product of his environment, molded by a father who saw him as nothing more than a means to an end.

You saw the cracks in his armor, the moments of doubt and vulnerability. The way his hands would shake every time Ward raised his voice, the way he would bite his nails to hide the embarrassment booming in his cheeks. How he never walked into his father’s space or any other room without announcing his presence. It gave you whiplash.

You began to argue less with him, your animosity slowly giving way to a grudging understanding. You hated feeling so…forgiving. This boy had done unspeakable things to you and your friends, to your family…and there you were. Feeling sorry for him like you didn’t know better.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the small house, Rafe brought you dinner. He placed the plate on the table, his movements tense, his expression unusually subdued. Strangely so, you’d memorized that expression. You didn’t even have to ask to understand what had gotten under his skin. You watched him for a moment before speaking.

"Why do you let him treat you like that?" you asked, your voice softer than usual. You didn’t understand why you did it. You regretted the words the moment they came out of your lips, but there was something inside itching you to ask.

Rafe's eyes snapped to yours, rage and something else—pain—flashing in them. "What the hell do you know about it?" he snapped, but there was less bite in his words.

At this point he just sounded tired.

"I understand,” you replied, thinking of your own father. "I know what it's like to want to prove yourself, to be more than what they think you are."

Rafe's jaw clenched, his eyes dropping to the floor. For a moment, he looked lost, like a boy searching for something he could never find. "You don't know shit," he muttered, but there was no conviction in his voice.

"I know enough," you said quietly. "You don't have to keep doing this. You don't have to be his puppet."

He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "You think it's that simple?"

"Maybe not. But you can choose to be better than him. You can choose to stop this.”

Rafe looked at you, really looked at you, for the first time. It was borderline unnerving. The weight of his stare. The way your stomach flip-flops under his attention.

“Shut the fuck up and eat, Maybank."

He didn't say anything, just turned and walked out, leaving you alone.

Again.

The days continued to pass, but something had shifted. Rafe was less hostile, more contemplative. He didn't treat you as roughly, didn't hurl as many insults. It was a small change, but it was there. And you began to see a way out, not just for yourself, but for Rafe too. You knew what he did, knew what he was capable of, but no one deserved to rot in hell with someone like Ward. You needed to bide your time, to wait for the right moment. And when that moment came, you had to be ready to act.

Another day began with the same oppressive heat. The sun had just started to rise, casting a golden hue over the island. You were in the small kitchen of the house, preparing a meager breakfast from the limited supplies you had. The routine had become almost mechanical, a way to keep your mind occupied and stave off the rising panic.

Rafe entered the kitchen, eyes barely open as he wiped the sleep away. He poured himself a glass of whiskey, the sound of the liquid hitting the glass breaking the silence. He stood with his back to you, staring out the window.

“What’s Luke like?”

You froze, your hands pausing mid-motion. It was an unexpected question, one that cut deep and made you want to hurl on the spot even though you hadn’t had anything to eat yet.

“Why do you want to know?" you asked cautiously, trying to keep your voice steady.

Rafe shrugged, still not turning to face you. "Just curious. You Maybanks are a tight bunch, right? So what's he like?"

Tight bunch…that was one way to put it.

You took a deep breath, trying to decide how much to reveal. "He’s a drunk, a thief. But he's still my dad."

He finally turned to look at you, his eyes narrowing. "So why do you stick around? Why not just leave him?"

You knew what he was trying to do, giving you a taste of your own medicine. You couldn’t blame him.

You met his gaze, the raw honesty of your answer surprising even you. "Because he's family. And sometimes, family is all you have. Even when they’re terrible, even when they hurt you, sometimes you can’t just walk away."

Rafe seemed to consider this, his expression unreadable. "Family's supposed to be everything, right?" His voice carried a bitter edge, hinting at his own unresolved conflicts.

"That's what they say," you replied quietly.

He took another sip of his whiskey, his eyes never leaving yours. "Must be tough, having a dad like that."

Tough? It’s heartbreaking. Knowing that the one person who was supposed to love you, cherish you and protect you for life never gave a single fuck about his kids? Yeah, sure it’s “tough”

You nodded, a sad smile playing on your lips. "Guess we have that in common.”

Rafe looked away, his jaw tightening. "Yeah, we do." He set his glass down with a heavy thud, the sound resonating in the small kitchen.

For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, but then he took a deep breath, his shoulders sagging slightly. "I get it," he said quietly. "More than you know."

You watched him, the way his fingers ran along the rim of the glass. "Then why do you keep doing this? You don’t have to."

His eyes blazed with anger. “It's not that simple," he snapped. "You think I have a choice? I killed someone. For him.”

It was the first time he had said those words out loud. And it made him sick to his stomach. That he’d been scared and high enough to do something so reckless, just so they wouldn’t take away his dad.

"We always have a choice," you countered, your voice firm. "Maybe not the best ones, but we can always choose to be better."

He stared at you for a long moment, his expression a tumult of emotions. Then he shook his head, turning away. "You don't know anything," he muttered, but there was less conviction in his words than before.

"I know enough," you said softly, watching his retreating back. "And so do you."

He paused at the doorway, his hand gripping the frame tightly. Without turning around, he spoke, his voice low and strained. "I'll see you later."

As he left, the kitchen felt colder, but you knew you had reached him, even if just a little. And that gave you hope.

After that, Rafe’s visits were less frequent, and when he did come by, there was an uneasy tension between you both. You couldn't tell if it was the weight of your conversations or the sheer exhaustion of being trapped in this toxic cycle. Still, every interaction chipped away at the walls he'd built around himself, revealing glimpses of the person he might have been, had his life taken a different path.

Tonight, the air was still, the only sound was the gentle lapping of waves against the shore. You had been biding your time, watching for the perfect moment to make your escape. The house was quiet, Ward was gone and you hadn’t seen Rafe in two days. By now, you knew how the guards outside fell asleep before 2am like clockwork.

You could it.

This was your chance, and you couldn't afford to waste it.

You moved silently, slipping out of the small bedroom and into the hallway. Every creak of the wooden floorboards seemed to echo in the stillness, and you held your breath, praying you wouldn't be caught. The front door loomed ahead, your path to freedom. Your heart raced as you slowly turned the handle, wincing at the faint click that accompanied the action.

The night air hit you like a wave as you stepped outside, the cool breeze a stark contrast to the oppressive heat that had been your constant companion. You glanced around, ensuring the coast was clear, then made your way towards the small boat moored at the edge of the beach. The plan was simple: get to the boat, start the engine, and head for the main island where you could find help.

You kept low, moving quickly but cautiously, every step bringing you closer to your goal. The boat was within reach when a noise behind you made your blood run cold.

The crunch of gravel underfoot was unmistakable. You turned sharply, and in the dim moonlight, the silhouette of one of the guards emerged from the shadows. The asshole who’d gotten you here in the first place. He was closer than you had anticipated. Your heart pounded, adrenaline surging through your veins as you broke into a sprint, abandoning stealth for speed.

"Stop!" the guard shouted, his voice carrying across the trees. You didn't dare look back, your eyes locked on the boat. A sharp crack split the night—a gunshot. You felt a searing pain in your arm, but you couldn't stop. You pushed through the pain, your goal now just a few yards away.

Another gunshot rang out, but you were too focused to determine where it landed. You reached the boat, hands trembling as you fumbled with the ropes. The pain in your arm intensified, but you forced yourself to keep moving. Suddenly, a heavy hand grabbed your shoulder, spinning you around. You struggled, kicking and thrashing, but he was stronger. He pulled you to the ground, pinning you down as he radioed for backup.

"Got her," he said into the radio, his breath hot against your ear. You tried to wriggle free, but his grip tightened. Moments later, two more guards arrived, hauling you to your feet and dragging you back towards the house.

Your mind raced the sting in your arm a painful reminder of your failed attempt. As they pulled you inside, the walls seemed to close in around you, your brief taste of freedom slipping away.

Moments felt like hours as you sat in the chair, the pain in your arm throbbing with each heartbeat. The quiet murmurs of the guards outside were interrupted by the heavy, hurried footsteps of someone approaching. The door flew open, and there stood Rafe, disheveled and wild-eyed, a gun clutched tightly in his hand.

“What the fuck is going on?” he barked, his voice a volatile mix of anger and confusion. His gaze scanned the room, landing on you.

The sight of the blood staining your arm made his expression shift from bewilderment to fury.

He stormed towards you, his eyes blazing. “What happened?” he demanded, his voice low but dangerous. Before you could answer, he whirled around to face the guards who had re-entered the room. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Rafe shouted, waving his gun erratically. “She’s bleeding! I try to sleep in peace and this is what I come back to?”

The guards exchanged nervous glances, shifting uncomfortably under Rafe’s glare. “She was trying to escape, Mr. Cameron,” one of them stammered. “We had to stop her.”

His expression twisted with rage. “So you fucking shot her?” His voice dripped with incredulity and disdain. “Do you even understand what you’ve done? My father wants her in once piece.”

The guard who had caught you tried to explain, but Rafe cut him off. “Shut up. Just... shut up.” He turned back to you, his eyes softening slightly as he took in the sight of your injured arm. Or maybe the pain was making you delirious.

“We need to get that cleaned up,” he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. Without another word, he holstered his gun and gently took your uninjured arm, pulling you to your feet. The guards looked on, unsure of what to do or say.

Rafe shot them a deadly look. “Get out,” he snapped. “Before I shoot you bitches myself.”

Once Ward’s men had left, Rafe's demeanor changed. His concern, which had briefly softened his striking features, hardened back into anger. He ran a hand through his long hair, pacing the small bathroom before finally stopping in front of you. His eyes were intense, burning with frustration.

He sneered at you, his voice dripping with disappointment and exasperation, "I thought you had some brains in that pretty little head of yours," he spat out, his frustration palpable. "What were you even thinking? Do you realize how close you came to getting yourself killed?"

You tried to speak, to defend yourself, but he didn't give you the chance. His words came fast, each one like a dagger aimed at my heart. "You could've died out there! A bullet barely missed you—do you even understand how lucky you are?"

His fists clenched at his sides, his eyes burning into yours. "I just don't get it. Do you think you're invincible? Because you're not. You're just..." He stopped himself, taking a deep breath as if trying to regain control of his temper. "You're just reckless," he continued, his voice quieter but still seething with anger. "You didn’t think about the consequences, about what it would do to..."

He trailed off, his attention faltering for a moment before snapping back to you. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the battle between knocking you out cold and something else—maybe concern, maybe fear.

"Don't act like you give a shit about me," you called after him, your voice trembling with both pain and defiance.

He stopped in his tracks, his back stiffening for a moment before slowly turning to face you. The fury in his eyes was matched only by the bitterness in your own. "I don't," he retorted, his tone icy. "But my ass is on the line too. You think Ward won't come down on me if something happens to you?"

You stood up, despite the throbbing pain in your arm, facing him head-on. "So this is all about you, then? Your precious ass and how it looks to Ward? Typical Cameron bullshit, only caring about themselves."

Rafe's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching. "You don't know what you're talking about," he said, his voice dangerously low. "You think this is easy for me? Keeping you safe, dealing with all this? It's not just about me. It's about keeping everything under control."

You scoff through your nose "Here we go again. Control? You think dragging me back here, shooting at me, is control? It's chaos, Rafe. You're just as trapped as I am, and you can't stand it."

His face twisted showcasing his wrath, and he took a step towards you, closing the distance. "Shut up!” he growled. "You don’t understand the pressure I'm under. The expectations, the demands. I didn’t ask for any of this."

"And neither did I," you shot back, a strict finger aimed at his face in warning, “So shut the fuck up.”

He took another step towards you, his face inches from yours, his breath hot and ragged.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You think this is just about me? It's about keeping everything from falling apart. It's about—"

Before he could finish, you grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him even closer, your faces almost touching. "I don’t care about your excuses, Rafe. I don’t care about your pressures or your fucking control. All I know is I’m not staying here.”

The look he gave you was filled with enough ire to have a hint of satisfaction sparking in your chest, the hollow beneath his dark brows deepening as his classical features twisted into an expression of silent hatred. His breath came in short, sharp bursts. His hands came up, gripping your waist, not gently but not roughly either, as if he couldn’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer.

"You're impossible," he hissed, his voice a raw whisper.

"And you’re a coward," you shot back, your voice equally low but no less fierce.

The next moment happened in a blur. Rafe’s grip tightened, and before you could process what was happening, his lips crashed into yours with a ferocity that left you breathless. His mouth was demanding, almost punishing, and you responded, your hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer even as you wanted to push him away.

The kiss was rough and desperate, fueled by anger and frustration, a collision of two souls too damaged to recognize the depths of their own pain. And yet, beneath the layers of animosity and resentment, there was a spark—as if you were both too messed up to understand how much you needed each other. Each fingertip left an imprint, a silent declaration of the strength he was restraining. It was like he was fighting to contain this force within him, to keep it from overwhelming you both.

If someone told you you’d be kissing Rafe fucking Cameron of all people just a month ago, you’d think they were crazy. And yet… All you wanted were his hands on your body, his warm skin against your own.

Oh his hands.

They roamed slowly yet purposefully over your lower back, over your waist. You breathed out a sigh of relief, taking the collar of his shirt in both your hands as you pulled him closer, relishing in his warmth. He smelled like whiskey and cigarettes.

He pulled away slowly, your lips the last to part, and blinked down at you. You watched him lick his bottom lip, taking in the sight of you.

“’You’re bleeding—“

“Shut the fuck up.”

His eyes flared with renewed anger, but also with something else—something darker, more primal. Your words were like a match to gasoline. He didn't respond verbally; instead, he took a half step back before swooping you into his arms, lifting you effortlessly.

With a swift, decisive motion, Rafe carried you to the dining table, and you barely had time to register the cool wood against your back before he was on you again, his body pressing down on yours with a desperation that matched your own. There was no tenderness there, only raw need and a desire to consume. He pried your lips apart again, his tongue sweeping in as he kissed you deeply, his mouth moving invasively over yours. His fingers gripped your jaw with a vice-like hold. A strange sensation fluttered beneath your skin, and you wrapped your legs around his hips, closing the distance between your bodies as he pressed flush against your center.

His hands moved with such intent, slipping under your shirt, his fingers tracing every curve with a delicious blend of roughness and urgency. You reciprocated eagerly, your own hands tangling in his hair, urging him closer as your kiss deepened. Everything around you blurred as the room spun, his warmth against you making you breathless, his taste lingering on your lips, intoxicating and irresistible.

You tugged at his shirt, fingers fumbling with the buttons because you just couldn't wait. He let out that deep, sexy growl that made a shiver run down your spine. His hands were all over you, touching your skin and leaving fiery trails wherever they went. It felt like he was trying to memorize every inch of you, wanting to claim you in a way that words could never capture.

"You're impossible," he muttered against your lips, the words barely audible over the sound of your heavy breathing. He leaned down closer to your collarbone, to catch the scent on your skin, and he couldn't tell if you were amused or annoyed from the way your cheeks rounded as you narrowed your eyes at him.

"And you’re an asshole,” you shot back, your voice breathless, your body arching into his touch.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, the tip of his nose brushing against yours slightly "Drive me fucking crazy.”

"Good," you replied, your fingers tightening in his hair, pulling him down again. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he was holding back, trying to maintain some semblance of control. But you didn't want control. You wanted to lose yourself in this moment, to forget everything you'd been trough and just feel.

Rafe seemed to sense this, his hands becoming more insistent, his touch more possessive. He lifted you slightly, positioning you better on the table, his body slotting perfectly between your legs. The friction was exquisite, a delicious tease that left you craving more.

"Rafe," you breathed, and he almost fell to his knees at the soft whimper that left your lips when he couldn’t help but jerk his hips forward. He responded instantly, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer as he kissed you with a fervor that left you dizzy. The table creaked under your combined weight, but neither of you cared. Your hand grabbed his forearm, over the veins strained from his grip on you, your nails sinking into the skin exposed.

You broke the kiss, gasping for air, your eyes locking with his. There was a wildness there, a reflection of the storm inside you. You reached up, tracing his jaw with your fingers, feeling the stubble beneath your touch as his mouth, hot and demanding, left a trail of fire in its wake on your neck. A noise of pleasure slipped from your mouth as he palmed at your breast, thumb grazing across your nipple as his teeth grazed your collarbone, kissing down, littering your skin bite marks.

"I hate you," you panted, pouring as much venom into your words as possible. Your thighs tightened around his hips, feeling every inch of him against you.

“Your body doesn’t,” He replies coldly, each syllable slowly drawn from his throat, "

“Fucking asshole.”

“Fucking brat.”

You opened your mouth to hiss something at him, to fight back, show him that you were the one in charge, but the intention died the moment Rafe cupped you through your shorts. A pathetic excuse of shorts due to the heat. Heat bloomed in your stomach, melting into a torrent want that flooded your skin and left you breathless. His determined blue eyes pierced into yours, watching as he pressed the heel of his palm against the apex of your thighs, his middle finger tracing your entrance and applying light pressure to the sensitive dip between your legs.

“Cat got your tongue, pretty?” He asked, lips brushing over your mouth, loose bangs brushing against your brow “Thought you had more fire in you.” he rasped coldly, moving your shorts and underwear out of the way and your lips parted on a sharp inhale as you felt him touch you for the first time, “Yeah, thought so.”

Every nerve ending seemed to come alive under his hands, and the room around you blurred into insignificance. All that mattered was the man in front of you, his relentless grip on your senses, his unwavering control over your body.

"God, I hate you," you whispered again, the words almost a prayer, a futile attempt to cling to the anger that had fueled you for so long. But even as you said it, you knew it was a lie. You hated how much you needed him, how much you craved his touch, his dominance. Perhaps you’d been locked away from society for too long. That was the only plausible reason for you to let Rafe Cameron touch you.

Rafe smirked, a dark, satisfied gleam in his eyes. "No, you don’t.”

You did. At least you used to, everything’s confusing now.

He teased you, his touch light and teasing, drawing out your frustration, your need. "Tell me what you want," he murmured against your lips, his voice a seductive growl that made your heart race.

You bit back a whimper, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing you beg. But the need was overwhelming, a fierce ache that demanded release.

“Fuck you," you spat, your defiance crumbling under the weight of your desire.

He chuckled darkly, his fingers finally slipping inside you, curling and stroking in a way that made your hips buck against his hand. "That's right," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "Let me hear you."

A broken moan escaped your lips, and you arched into his touch, your body writhing with need. His fingers moved expertly, finding all the right spots, driving you near the edge with a skill that left you breathless. Every touch, every stroke was designed to push you closer to the brink, to break you down until you were nothing but a trembling, pleading mess.

"Rafe, please," you finally gasped, the words ripped from your throat by the overwhelming pleasure. "Please, I need you."

His smirk widened, and he pulled his fingers away, making you whimper in frustration. He didn't make you wait long, though. With swift, practiced movements, he freed himself from his pants, the sight of him hard and ready making your mouth water.

Without a word, he positioned himself between your legs, the head of his pretty cock teasing your entrance. "You ready for me?" he asked, his voice a rough whisper that made your heart skip a beat.

You nodded, your eyes locking with his, the intensity of the moment almost too much to bear. "Yes," you breathed, your voice trembling with anticipation. "Please, Rafe."

He didn't need any further encouragement. With a single, powerful thrust, he buried himself inside you. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect blend of pain and pleasure that made you cry out. Your back arched involuntarily, your lips parting as he entered you, filling you completely in a way you had never imagined.

He rolled his hips firmly against yours, and your head tipped back as his cock rubs perfectly against you. You’d never felt so full. He didn’t give you a moment to catch your breath. After another firm roll of his hips, testing you out, figuring out his rhythm. His movements were hard and relentless, pounding into you, knocking the breath from your lungs with each forceful thrust, barely giving you time to adjust.

You clung to him, your nails digging into his muscular back, your body moving in perfect rhythm with his. The table creaked and groaned beneath you, but you didn't care. All that mattered was the man above you, his relentless drive, his unwavering control. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer, deeper, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more desperate. You could feel him losing control, his need matching your own.

Your eyes squeezed shut, blocking him out so you could pretend you weren’t stupid enough to let the man that ruined your life fuck the living hell out of you.

"Eyes on me,” he growled, his voice rough and commanding. "Let me see you.”

Even though you really wanted to shut him out, you just couldn’t fight the crazy pull he had over you. His voice was like a force of nature. You opened your eyes and locked onto his intense gaze. Seeing him above you, his face twisted with raw need and determination sent chills down your spine. His eyes were locked onto yours, filled with this dark, unyielding intensity that left you totally breathless.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice dripping with approval and something deeper, something that made your heart race even more. It made you want to run for the hills, "Fucki—Oh, fuck"

With each thrust, he drove you closer to the edge, your body responding to him in ways you couldn’t control. The pleasure was overwhelming, a torrent of sensations that left you gasping, moaning, begging for more. His name slipped from your lips in a broken, desperate plea, and he answered with a renewed vigor, his movements becoming more frenzied, more primal.

"Fuck," he growled, his voice rough and strained. "You're so tight... feels so fucking good."

You could barely form coherent thoughts, let alone words. Your entire world had narrowed to this moment, to the feel of him inside you, to the overwhelming pleasure that consumed you. Your body arched beneath him, your nails digging into his skin, leaving marks that would undoubtedly linger.

"Rafe," you whimpered, the sound barely more than a breath. "I'm... I can't..."

He understood. His pace quickened, his thrusts becoming almost brutal in their intensity. "Come for me," he commanded his voice a raw whisper that sent shivers down your spine. "Let go."

His words pushed you over the edge, and you came with a scream, your body convulsing around him. The intensity of your release was like nothing you'd ever felt before, a white-hot explosion of pleasure that left you trembling and breathless.

Rafe followed you over the edge, his own release crashing through him with a force that left him shaking. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin as he rode out his orgasm, his movements slowing until he finally stilled, still buried deep inside you.

For a moment, everything was still, the only sound the ragged breaths but then Rafe lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, there was something almost tender in his gaze.

“Y-You—“ He sighed, pausing, “Don’t pull that shit again. I’ll get you out, okay?

“Rafe...“

Before you could process his words, before you could question or argue, his lips were on yours again. Differently this time. Gentle.

Devastating almost.

“You’re still bleeding Maybank.”

Rafe’s words snapped you back to reality, the pain in your arm a sharp reminder of your injury. The moment of vulnerability between you evaporated, leaving you with the stark realization of your situation. You pushed at his chest, forcing him to back off slightly, and hissed through clenched teeth, "Then do something about it."

He just stood there, staring at you as if he had never seen you before. As if he was truly seeing you for the first time despite having known you since you were seven, despite all the moments marked by violence and terror. And you hated every second of it because your heart was practically leaping out of your chest. No one had ever looked at you like that before.

And then he simply shook his head, drew closer again, resting his forehead against yours, hands back on your thighs, fingers pressing as if he needed to ensure that you were real, that everything was real.

“We’re getting out.”

You wanted to believe in him more than anything. In that moment, it was the only thing that mattered, “Yeah?"

“Yeah, pretty Maybank. You and me."

“Okay.”

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron (by @itneverendshere)

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willowistic22 · 4 years ago

Text

Red (Redfinch)

Despite their breakup, Albert still wanted to go see Finch perform in one of his concerts when Race asked him if he wanted to come. This is the perfect chance for them to talk things out again but words aren’t cooperating for either of them. With that, Finch decides to triy a different form of communication.

Words : 5233

Part : -

Warnings : Alcohol, cursing, cigarettes, angst in general

A/N : Woah that’s a crazy word count uhh,,,, hi i’m back with another fic. Another redfinch and for that we stan lol (well idk maybe yall are annoyed by all these redfinch fics but yknow what? i’m thriving off of it) But fr I’ll eventually get into writing other ships but for now have one more redfinch combined with another tswift songs (as you do) this time with Red. Wow we are so surprised who would have thought of redfinch being associated with the song red no we aren’t surprise :D This one specifically exists in my bandsies au. you don’t need to read that first to understand this (i think?) but it wouldn’t hurt if you checked that out as well:) Tbh i can’t decide whether i love it or hate it but at least i like it enough to post it. N ee wayysss enjoy!!

His brain is screaming about how much Albert shouldn’t be doing this. Comprising a list of cons that goes on forever. And although he thinks all of the cons his brain had written is logical, that one pro his heart wrote beside the long list was all it took for Al to say yes. All the cons will be worth suffering through if he finally gets to see Finch again. And maybe it’s for the better since he’s not doing well by distancing himself from the boy.

Unfortunately, the world isn’t black and white. Meaning that even if he did choose to follow what his heart wants, all the horrible feelings will still be there. And with every step he takes, inching closer to the entrance of the building, he’s getting even more terrified by the second. Thankfully, the line for the entrance is going pretty slow which gives time for Albert to calm down.

But it’s not helping. The line is crowded and full of fans, talking excitedly about the band’s awaiting concert inside. For some odd reason, he can only hear the conversations between fans that contain one specific name. He doesn’t hear anyone mentioning Romeo, Elmer, or Jojo’s name. Not even Crutchie, who he’s been told to be the fans’ favorite. Just the name Finch, being repeated all around him. With adoration and excitement lacing the name. The line is delaying the inevitable and the people around him makes him a bit overwhelmed.

“We can still turn around if you want. I’m sure they’ll find a way to give us a refund”

If he’s actually being honest, it was his best friend that got him to come. Race returned to their shared apartment a few weeks ago and rushed to ask Albert if he wanted to go see their friends performing tonight. Race knows about Al and Finch’s break up but it’s worth asking him first. And to his surprise, he said yes.

“No, it’s fine” Albert replied, “I’m fine”

“You’re picking your pimples right now”

“So?”

“It’s one of your nervous habits”

That piece of information really caught Al off guard. He didn’t think a tiny random fact about himself would actually corner him the way Race is doing now. Eyeing Albert through his glasses and raising his eyebrows despite his forehead being mostly covered by his beanie.

“Well… I-” Albert tried to come up with bullshit as fast as he could, “I like to do it on purpose too, alright?! My fingers just... get a little itchy!”

He slowly puts his hands down from previously reaching up to pick his face. And the line is still going slow, one step at a time. It’s not doing any favors for Al.

“Dude, it’s alright if you’re not ready to see him” Race continued, “It takes time, I get it”

“Race, I’ll be fine! How many more times do I have to tell you?” Albert argued, which finally made Race back down. And to make sure it’s no longer gonna be brought up, Al changes the subject, “By the way, where’s Specs and Mike? You said they’re watching too”

“They’re already backstage with the others for... obvious reasons” Race answered casually, catching on to Albert's intentions to change the subject. “So is Kath, by the way. We’ll meet her in there though”

To that, Albert simply nods. His jittery movements turn into rocking his body on the ball of his feet while digging his lips with his teeth. Race tries to pretend he doesn’t notice, but he does. Albert knows he does. Although he’s glad he’s not bringing it up because it might make it worse.

He’d be lucky to know that he’s not the only one panicking over this. In the dressing room, an aggravated Finch throws his phone to the cushion of the couch after sending the last text to his friend Race. It sounds unlawful for Race to be ‘secretly updating’ Finch on how Albert is actually doing because it’s obviously something Albert doesn’t want to directly tell his ex.

Finch groans, placing his elbow on his armchair to support his head. The room is spinning in his view and he wishes it all to stop. Taking deep and long breaths to stabilize his shaky limbs. A little prayer starts playing in his heart, it follows the tempo of his fast heartbeat.

“He’s here, isn’t he?”

Finch opens his eyes and looks up to meet his bandmate sitting on the couch across from him. He hadn’t even been talking for a good hour because he’s too fixated with the first text Race sent him when he and Al first started making their way to the concert.

“Yeah, he’s in line” Finch replied, looking up to the blond boy who’s holding his bass.

“How are they not being mobbed?” Another voice rang. This time it’s not coming from one of Finch’s bandmates. It’s coming from Race and Albert’s bandmate, sitting next to the shortest member of Finch’s band on the couch.

Specs only ask that because their two bands have a long connecting history and their fanbase tends to be sort of the same in a way. With Specs dating Romeo and Mike dating Jojo, Race and Albert are bound to be recognized and mobbed by at least a few fans. Especially seeing that Albert is Finch’s former lover, although the fans know that as a rumor since the two never publicly addressed it.

“I’m assuming they’re wearing a lot of shit to cover their faces” Another answered, the other VIP of the show alongside Specs, Mike. He’s twirling his drink in his hand while the other keeps Jojo cuddled close to him, “I mean, Al’s head is really fucking bright!”

With the mention of that specific name, Finch sulks back in his armchair with a groan. He covers his face with his hands, hoping it’d make the world just stop for one second. He could hear a loud clean slap echoing the room, followed by overlaps of whispered scolding. If he had to guess, it was Mike who was the one getting slapped and scolded.

“This is a disaster…” Finch exclaimed to himself, still not lifting his face up.

“It doesn’t have to be unless you make it like that” this time a feminine voice spoke up. A voice he recognized to belong to Kath.

Finch hears footsteps approaching him. He feels the motion of someone softly kneeling down in front of him. His hands were gently pried open and he was met with Kath’s friendly smile.

“It takes time, but you gotta trust the process”

It’s not necessarily the words he needed to hear right now, but it still warms his heart to hear his friend still being there for him despite the sticky situation he has gotten them into.

Everything would’ve been just fine if Finch hadn’t been so pushy and upset over Albert’s decision. He was the one that decided to put his music career on hold to go get that engineering degree, which frankly seems pretty useless. Finch was so dirty for pulling the ‘you’re being selfish’ card at him when it’s not even his band at all. Race, Specs, Mike, Ike, and even their manager Denton were very supportive about his decision to get that degree. Heck, all their friends were! But not Finch. His boyfriend at the time. He argued like he secretly knew how the others felt about Al leaving when really there aren’t any secret feelings for him to know. All his arguments came from his own feelings.

However, he knows Albert’s ‘own decision’ was secretly coated by his father’s persuasive words. The whole ‘just in case the music career doesn’t work out’ argument was basically the copy and pasted words from his father. They both know it. Despite the arguments, it still seemed that Al was determined to fully focus on college anyways. Instead of following his fellow musician friends’ college path by getting a degree in the non-lecture-hall way, he followed his father’s words and actually attended his college classes in a proper campus.

In the moment, Finch was just too focused on Albert leaving. Maybe he was the one being selfish. He had only realize now that most of his arguments were because he didn’t want Albert to go. It’s too late now, since the last time they saw each other was when Al slammed the door of their apartment one last time with all his stuff and a plane ticket to Seattle. At that point, Finch was finally tired of all the arguing and told him that if this was his plan then he’s on his own.

The tears that came after were filled with sorrow and regret. Sorrowful because he missed him. Regretful because he only realized then that there was no valid reason for Finch to lash out in the first place other than for his own needs. The feeling is still present to this moment. And it’s currently the strongest right before a show because he knows he’s gonna be in the crowd.

“Look, we’ll let ya drown out your feelings with some booze later” Crutchie finally said, “But right now we got a show”

The band was all getting up from where they were seated, bringing whatever they needed to the stage. Crutchie gets some help from Jojo to bring his Bass till he properly sits on the stool on stage. But Finch stays perfectly still, holding Kath’s hand as if his life depends on it.

“I know I should talk to ‘im, Kath” Finch finally said, slowly joining the others in standing up. Kathrine follows along, eyes still fixed to her friend, “But… I can’t. I wouldn’t know what to say to him”

“Then don’t talk” Mike suddenly inserts himself in their little conversation. He gets up and approaches the two, “Sing him the new single”

“You’re fucking insane, Mike!” Katherine instantly snapped.

“Alright, your mouth will be legally sealed shut till the end of the concert” Specs joins them only to drag Mike away. There were some protests from the boy, but it was totally shut down by everyone else in the room.

“No, wait. He’s got a point” Finch suddenly exclaimed, which quickly got the whole room to freeze in time.

He looks at his bandmates, all standing by the doorway ready to kill the concert. A half confident smile appears on his face and he says, “Let’s sing that single”

The concert is held in a bar like-venue with multiple floors, slowly being filled to the brim by excited fans. Their excitement bounces off the walls of the venue, creating an ecstatic kind of environment despite the tight space. The concert is going to start any minute now and while the fans surrounding him are shaking in excitement, Albert is shaking in a nervous fit.

“Still okay there, Al?”

Albert looked to his side, seeing his good friend Kathrine looking up to meet his eyes with concern. She had just joined the boys in the midst of the crowd after hanging out behind the stage with the band.

“What? Yeah, I’m okay” He replied, “What makes you think I’m not?”

“You’re squeezing my hand a little too tight”

Al had only realized he’s been holding Kath’s hand just now. His brain was too focused on his fears about meeting Finch again to the point that he hasn’t been paying attention to his surroundings. He gets bashful all of a sudden, cheeks going a bit warm, harshly pulling away from her grasp.

“It’s okay, you can hold my hand if you want,” Katherine said gently.

“Kath, I’m fine!” Albert said, “Why won’t you and Race believe me?”

“Because we know it’s utter bullshit”

The pair looked back towards the crowd behind them where the familiar voice originated from. There, Race struggles through a sea of people with two drinks in hand. Oddly enough, he still seems to stand the heat despite still wearing his face disguise. A white cotton mask, black-framed glasses, and a grey beanie mostly providing cover for his blond curls. While Al, seeing that the venue is pretty dark and speculations has led him to believe that the fans would be focused on the concert rather than the people attending it, had already put away his mask. However, his fears still made him wear his snapback and grey-framed glasses just in case.

Albert takes his rightful drink, and with a free hand, Race takes off his own mask and stuffs it in his pockets. He complains about the stuffiness from wearing the mask all while doing so, which made Kath laugh. It appears the Albert-scolding has been forgotten for the time being, as Kath and Race starts engaging in their own conversation, which Al doesn’t mind because he’d much like to down his beer quickly.

And then the concert finally starts.

An exciting intro starts playing as the band enters the stage. The wild crowd welcoming the band is deafening to Albert’s ear. Time freezes and everything in between fades away. All he sees is Finch, up on stage wearing a smile brighter than the lighting of the venue itself. He’s using his old dark green guitar. The same one he uses when he’s writing songs in bed or when he just feels like strumming the strings. Albert remembers the memoirs of all the guitar string scars he had earned throughout the years of knowing him. Some of them were even caused by Albert himself.

Lucky that Finch hasn’t noticed Albert has been staring at him the whole time. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of the boy since the start of the first song, shimmering under the spotlight with amazing vocals. Laughing about at his fellow bandmates’ antics on stage. Oh, that laugh. It gives him butterflies in his stomach like it was the first time hearing it.

He can feel two pairs of familiar eyes on him. But he’s too far gone to care. Albert really did make a big mistake for letting Finch go that easy. Because at the end of his previous college days, he still loves him and misses him dearly. His little Finchy. It doesn’t matter to Al anymore if Race and Katherine are eyeing him with sorrow or the whole world were to look at him weirdly for fixating his own eyes towards the beautiful boy on stage. He was his beautiful boy. Good lord, does he long to see the days when he got to call Finch his.

“Holy shit, I fucked up” Albert muttered under his breath, only Kath and Race could hear it, “I should’ve never had left”

His friends were definitely not expecting Albert to verbally exclaim his regret. They already knew from the start despite the redhead’s previous denials. But hearing him say it just makes it all more real. Even Albert himself was hit by a truck of reality just by loudly announcing it.

“Well, now you know” Katherine started, gentle voice on the same volume as his own despite the volume of their current surroundings being incredibly loud, “Go tell him that after the show”

“I can’t. I shouldn’t” Albert replied, fully turning away from the stage to properly look at his friends. A glint of sorrow and desperation flashes before his face, “I might make things worse!”

“Well, you’ll never know till you try” Race said, sounding a little hesitant at the start. He offered a warm smile at his friend and a hand on his shoulder, since there isn’t much he could do in the moment.

With a heavy sigh, Albert turns back towards the stage only to witness the biggest surprise of his life. Finch looked back. Straight into Albert’s eyes, it pierced right through to get his heart thumping loudly in his ears. He just realized the song the band was previously playing had ended and they were waiting for the fans to quiet down. While Romeo playfully over-dramatize his thank you’s to the crowd and gets scolded by Elmer and Crutchie, Finch was continuously staring at Albert. The hands that were previously used to play with his guitar hang idly because his center of attention wasn’t at his instrument right now.

It might just be some form of hallucination Al retained from the high, but Finch seemed to be smiling at him a little. Just a little curve at the end of his lips while he’s still staring back.

Albert doesn’t know how to interpret this other than to just stare back. Deep down, his heart is flipping in all kinds of ways and his thought process is no longer comprehensible. He’s trying to read the other boy’s emotions but it’s too neutral to tell. Other than the fact that he’s smiling a little at him but that still doesn’t give him a proper answer.

Eventually Finch becomes the first one to look away, seeing that the audience had settled down for the band. Albert’s eyes were still glued to Finch, retaining his focus back to the concert. He opens his mouth for a moment to say something into his microphone, although he unexpectedly stopped. The flow of words seemed to cut short. He saved himself by pulling himself away from the microphone up front and towards the rest of his bandmates. Judging from the body language, they seem to be whispering.

“What’s happening?” Albert whispered, more to himself rather than to his friends.

“I’m not sure…” Race replied, taking a step closer to where Al is standing.

The band kept the discussion short and quickly got back to their places. Finch seems to hesitate the second time he opens his mouth to speak. But this time, he gets the words out.

“Uhh… sorry ‘bout that. I uhh… I just got the urge to go a bit out of our fixed setlist and uhh… hope you guys don’t mind” Finch explained with a little giggle at the end. The crowd couldn’t care less and cheered on. Finch smile widens at the agreement, “We thought we’d give ya an early access to our newest single that hasn’t been released yet”

A euphoric feeling passed through the crowd as the cheering got louder. It baffled Finch so much that he laughed into his mic.

“Oh my god, they’re actually doing it” Katherine commented under her breath.

But Al’s ears were sharp enough to catch it. He snaps his head around to face the girl behind him, “Do what?”

Katherine was rendered speechless to that question, despite obviously knowing what’s going on. Albert turns to Race but he has no idea. He finally turns back to the stage where Finch’s gaze was already waiting to be returned by Al himself.

Without breaking the gaze, Finch speaks into the mic with a little smile, “It’s called ‘Red’”

It was Albert’s turn to be speechless. He had no knowledge of a new single since he’s mostly been staying away from his ex’s social media for the sole purpose of moving on, which he had failed miserably. And none of his friends had told him anything about a single that’s title was a secret language only Finch and Albert share, littered with all sorts of vintage romance.

“Holy shit…” Race exclaimed, “...I had no idea they were gonna play this song”

The opening of the song starts with Jojo lightly plucking a few strings of his acoustic guitar. The crowd goes wild once again, energy bouncing off one wall to the other.

“Loving him is like driving a new Maserati down a dead end street

Faster than the wind, passionate as sin, ending so suddenly”

Crutchie sang the first line smoothly. At this point the other’s had joined in with their instrument. Finch fully ignoring the crowd and focused on looking at Al. Those blue eyes are trying to send a message to Albert and it’s being coded with the song they’re currently playing.

The song had carried on till it reached the chorus. All the instruments peaked at that moment and collaborated with each other to create a very euphoric sound. The crowd jumps along to the beat of the song along with a loud cheering, obviously enjoying the tune they have yet to listen to. Some were holding up cameras to capture this moment, most likely to later share it with the fans that didn’t get the chance to witness it live.

At this point, Finch had turned his face away from Al. There was a troubling look in his expression but it was quickly covered by closing his eyes as if he’s trying to concentrate on singing the chorus with the others. But Al is no fool. He knows that look on Finch’s face is when he’s trying to avoid something, and that something is him.

“Losing him was blue, like I'd never known

Missing him was dark gray, all alone

Forgetting him was like trying to know

Somebody you never met

But loving him was red”

The words moved something in Al. It was written in a way Albert recognized it to be Finch’s writing style. Every single part of the song. From the melody, the chord progression, even the lyrics. Especially the lyrics.

“Fighting with him was like trying to solve a crossword

And realizing there's no right answer

Regretting him was like wishing you never found out

That love could be that strong”

As Finch harmonized that line with Jojo, he stole a little sad side glance at Albert. The song returns to the chorus once again, Finch gets dragged with the beat and lightly moves his body along.

Albert gets captivated along with the music. He can feel the corner of his lips slightly rising up, which is pretty ironic seeing that Finch is singing a breakup song about them. Maybe because he’s relieved to hear Finch sing about how he’s not fully over him. Or maybe it’s because he gets to see Finch embracing the break up, which could potentially mean that he’s okay with it. But whatever it is, he’s happy seeing Finch like this. Or just seeing him in general.

“Remembering him comes in flashbacks and echoes

Tell myself it's time now gotta let go

But moving on from him is impossible

When I still see it all in my head”

The chord progression’s pattern slightly changed. Finch sings his line into the microphone, closing his eyes as if to soak up all the intoxicating energy he gets from the crowd. Of people flailing their hands into the sky and a loud chorus of undecipherable shouting. But at the last line, he steals a proper glance back at Albert.

“In burning red”

The lyrics really says it all. There’s no more hidden message that Albert needs to decipher, as it's being presented right in front of him.

Finch takes over the next part of the song, shredding his guitar which makes the crowd go wild. At the moment, it looks like he’s feeling himself. Moving along with the motion of his fingers that creates each note.

“Oh, losing him was blue, like I'd never known

Missing him was dark gray, all alone

Forgetting him was like trying to know

Somebody you never met

'Cause loving him was red”

The song is supposed to be a punch to Albert’s guts, and yet he finds himself laughing at it. He catches a glimpse of Finch’s eyes, sneaking its way to look back at Albert every so often. And this time, he wears a smile while jumping along to the song. And it made Al smile back.

“His love was like driving a new Maserati down a dead end street”

As the song ended, the fans went wild. The look on Finch’s face seems satisfied at the success of the single they have yet been released to the world, shining at the sight of a hype crowd. He steals one last glance at Albert with a little smile on his face. Albert would dare to say he’s being a bit shy. To that, Albert smiles back with a disbelief laugh escaping his lips before Finch pulls his gaze away from the other boy.

After playing a few more songs, the concert ended. There was only one thing in Albert’s mind, which was talking to Finch. Race and Albert quickly put their disguise back on before the crowd had realized who they were as they exited the venue. The three stay behind as the venue gets emptied, Race and Katherine making quick work with their fingers on their phones to contact their friends backstage.

Jojo was the first to respond to either of them. He said that Finch is smoking behind the venue alone. One could only assume that he’s not in his best state after spontaneously choosing to sing that single. But Jojo assured them that he’s still good to talk to. Crutchie then responded, saying that Specs and Mike can pick them up to get them into the backstage.

It didn’t take them long, but Albert wasn’t keen on seeing the others right now. After being pointed towards the back door, Albert was already off. Adrenaline coursing through his veins as he makes quick steps towards it.

He gently opens the door, to avoid surprising the boy in case he was nearby. Albert steps out to a parking lot, open-spaced with another parking lot above it as its roof. At a first glance it was completely empty, only a few lights turned on to keep the area lit. His eyes gandered even further and spotted the boy he was looking for, back facing Al and his body leaning on metal bars as he enjoyed the nightlife of the city.

Albert took a deep breath to calm his adrenaline, slowing down his walking pace. The area is eerily quiet. Only a few things that can be heard: his footsteps, his thumping heart, and the sounds coming from the streets three stories below them. With every step closer, he slowly unraveled his makeshift disguise. Shoving his mask and glasses in the pockets of his jeans but left the snapback on.

“‘Loving him was red’” Albert said to catch Finch’s attention, “Did you mean it to be that obvious?”

Finch didn’t fully turn his head around, only halfway so Al can see the little grin of amusement forming on his face. A little chuckle escaped his lips, causing his chest to pulse along before he continued, “Not really. But it has a nice ring to it”

Albert takes a few steps closer towards the metal bars, leaning his body on it like what Finch is doing. Now he can clearly see the half burnt cigarette on Finch’s hand. Al tries to make eye contact with him, but Finch is purposely turning his head the other way and giving Albert his head full of blond curls.

“You came back” Finch suddenly said, voice hushed and low.

“Of course I came back” Albert replied, “You didn’t think I’d fully leave like that, did’ja?”

“Well, no. It’s just that you seemed so hellbent on going to college”

Albert slowly nods at that, moving his gaze towards the streets below like the other boy. They sit in the silence for a few minutes. Hearing different vehicles pass by the street below them and honking from the distance.

“Finch, I’m so sorry I left ya like that” Albert suddenly started, fully turning his face towards him. He couldn’t find a way to word it and so he resorted to just telling him the truth. Finch stays quiet to let him continue, “I was an idiot to let ya go that easily and all because I was selfish”

“You weren’t actually being selfish” Finch said, smiling a little at his words, “You did it because you wanted to. And it wasn’t hurting anyone anyways”

“It did. It hurt you”

Finch turns his head towards Albert. Now their eyes are looking into each other closer than before. The closest they’ve ever been since their breakup. A mixture of unsaid emotions made the gaze feel so intimate and it terrifies Al a bit.

“I hurt myself trying to get you to stay” Finch said softly. His next words got stuck in his throat. He gives his brain a few seconds to focus with a sigh out of his mouth and dragging his gaze away from Al, “I knew you never wanted to get that engineering degree in the first place which is another reason I didn’t want you to go. But at the end of the day, it was your decision to make and not mine. I lashed out on you and said you were selfish but… I was the one that was being selfish”

Finch turns his eyes back towards Al, his face looks more sorrowful than before, “I’m sorry”

A small smile formed on Al’s face, tilting his head to the side by a few inches, “It ain’t your fault for knowing me more than I know myself”

They leave the conversation at that for the time being. Letting the streets below fill the void of their silence. Both boys focusing their gaze towards the view they got from this height they’re on again. Finch and Albert left speechless at each other’s words.

Albert’s hands unconsciously reach up to his forehead, itching to pick a pimple like earlier. His next words almost got stuck in his throat but he was able to pull through just enough to get to his point, “Well, at the end of the day we uhh… we both fucked up. Fucked our relationship, that’s for sure-”

“Stop picking on your pimples, Al” Finch casually said. The surprise look on Al’s face got Finch to side eye him with a giggle.

Al pulled his fingers away, stuttering in his movements but still continued on his words with more confidence, “What I’m trying to say is… I want to try again as long as you’re willing to”

There was a good few seconds of silence that Finch used to just stare at him. Albert could only wonder what he’s thinking about inside that head, “So we just… what? Forget the breakup ever happened? Move back in together? You know I can’t just do that, right?”

“That’s not what I mean. We don’t need to rush things. I know you can’t do that” Albert said, “Just… let me start by making it up to you? Whatever you want. Just name it”

Finch didn’t respond instantly, letting the silence between them linger for a few more minutes. But it’s deeply agonizing to Albert’s ears. A blank space of two eyes locked in a gaze, and one is obviously dying to get out of it.

“Please, say something” Albert begged. Hands suddenly reaching back up to his face to pick on his pimples again.

With a free hand, Finch reaches towards Al’s hand on his face. He pulls it down to the bars, holding it in place to make sure it doesn’t repeat its mistakes again. The grip was firm, but warm and calming to Albert’s soul. It made him go blank for a good few seconds from being so touch deprived of Finch’s soft hands. He retains his sense of reality when their eyes finally meet again.

With a little smile forming on Finch’s face, he finally answers, “I’d like that very much”

#random writing #newsies #redfinch #redfinch newsies #albert dasilva #albert newsies #finch cortez #finch newsies #tw cursing #tw alcohol #tw cigarettes #tw angst #validate me pls and thanku:)#unless you don't ship redfinch #which is understandable

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clvmtines · 3 years ago

Text

welcome aboard, clementine martinez, student #2. we are excited to set sail with you ! has anyone told you that you look like alexa demie? according to our records, you hail from florida, usa, prefer she / her pronouns, are a cis woman, and are here to study creative writing. we also see you received a spot on the ss university because of your online lottery win — we won’t tell anyone. during your first few weeks here, other students said you were + charming, + free-spirited, but also - restive. it sounds like you spend most of your time at the billiards room. upon checking your luggage, we noticed you packed a casino chip carried around for luck from home. hopefully your roommates don’t steal it!

hi friends! i’m very excited to be here. i’m jay (est, she/her) n i used to play astrid nyland a few months ago if anyone remembers bt i had to leave for personal reasons. i’m so glad to be back now that i hve life sorted and some free time for summer break <3 read on for some details abt this new muse of mine, clementine.

01. biography !

so ! clementine was born in florida. & yes, her real name is clementine. her mom thot it was the cutest name idea ever. clementine mostly goes by clem. she comes from the town [redacted] in florida bcoz i am too lazy to look up a specific town <3 but alas ! it was swampy and humid and she lived in a trailer park.

her parents got knocked up at nineteen. clem was born nine months after a particularly wild 1999 fourth of july. her birthday is march 26th and she’s an aries.

(TW: addiction, child injury) clem’s dad was a gambling addict and petty criminal—he wld steal credit cards n whatnot. he wld gamble away diaper money n it would cause constant fighting until her dad finally left. her mom took this very hard n began drinking a bit too often, leaving clem to to make cereal for dinner n fend for herself. once clem tried to make hot dogs on the stove and spilled boiling water on herself. got a p bad burn on her arm/shoulder and still has a big scar.

the soundtrack of her childhood was cicadas buzzing and stray dogs barking. the sizzle and pop of natty light cans. turning up her ipod to max volume to drown out the sounds of her mother fighting with her new boyfriend.

throughout her upbringing, clem’s dad was always in and out of the picture. he’d blow into town when he hit it big. he’d take her on these little “adventures” like staying in a motel 6 n renting movies at block buster n ordering good pizza nt the dominos shit she ate with her mom lol. ofc he was charging it all to someone’s stolen credit card. he’d always promise to, like, take clem away. n clem was a daddy’s girl so she believed him. the last time it happened was her h.s. graduation. her mom didn’t show ( "overslept” after a bender ) but her dad did and surprised her n said everything wld be different. bt then he bailed on their plans for the next day n when she called his cell, the number was disconnected. tht was the defining “i’m done” moment. clem promised to never be disappointed by her father again.

(TW: racism) her mother has mexican ancestry and clem’s always been called her twin. but clem was raised in a predominately white area and honestly ?? it was really hard without her even realizing it. she’s still unpacking a lot of things today abt her youth that jst weren’t okay bt she thought were normal. like microaggressions, stereotypes, being fetishized by boys in high school. gross shit.

as a kid, clem was rumored to be really poor bc she wore tattered clothes n got free lunch at school. once she invited a friend to her house & the next day they told everyone it’s in a trailer park. that reputation—the “trailer park girl”—was really hard to shake. and clem got almost desperate to shake it. she was endlessly trying to set her old self on fire and emerge from the ashes like a phoenix.

eventually clem became more “popular”. in school she was, like, a straight b student. very average although super creative and quick-thinking. she always had street smarts. problem solving skills. independence. more of, like, practical intelligence as opposed to book smarts because academia bores her tbh. she was like why am i reading these overrated boring books by dead white men or learning abt polynomials when i know nothing abt how to pay a mortage or do taxes. like...she saw the american education system as bullshit and put in modest effort because she didn’t believe it deserved her sweat and tears.

however, she entered the online lottery for the seas program on a whim and got in. so she’s studying creative writing now.

02. personality !

first thing you shld know abt clem is that she’s a compulsive liar essentially—she tells various stories to make her life seem better than what it was. to one person, she’s an heiress to a real estate company and grew up wealthy. to the next she was raised by nomadic hippies. some of her lies are small fibs while others are grandiose tales. she rarely talks about her actual upbringing. she hates talking abt her family or the v real trauma of growing up in a household where both parents struggled w/ addiction; the uncertainty, the broken promises, the fact that she had to grow up so soon and deal w/ so much. it wasn’t fair, and if she thinks about it too much, she feels this anger. anger at the universe. anger at her circumstances. she doesn’t know where to put this anger. she doesn’t know how to shrink it. so she avoids it.

despite her rough upbringing, though, clem is actually really sweet and kind. she’s adventurous, fun-loving, free-spirited, and bold.

bt ! she can also be closed-off, competitive and restive.

she’s seemingly tight with everyone? like she’s jst that girl who can get along with anyone tbh.

in her spare time you can catch her tanning by the pool, hanging at the bar, playing pool ( which she learned from her dad ), and socializing. she’ll never say no to hanging out with people.

she learned a lot from her little “adventures” with her dad, who was very good at conning others and often involved her in his dumb little scams. clem is suuuper good at pulling the ‘im baby 🥺’ card to get what she wants.

she can be a little selfish, because she grew up looking out for herself.

stubborn and dogmatic as hell !!!

she doesn’t do too many relationships but when she does fall, i imagine she falls hard and fast. she refuses to be made a fool of, tho. when she gets vulnerable she flashes back to being a kid, waiting all day for her dad to show up only to have him bail on her. again. she hates that feeling. so if she, like, senses a shift in someone’s energy she’ll b like, “i’ll break up with u before u can do it to me” and the person wasn’t even tryna dump her lmao.

has a lot of sex. too much ?? sex?? mayb. but she’s v sex positive.

her personal style is v late 90s. hair clips, big scrunchies, neon, fur trim, crop and tube tops, hoop earrings, chokers, patterns, platform shoes, biodegradable glitter cuz it’s good fr the earth *winks*. clothes from o-mighty.......actually jst google o mighty, pull up the images and That is clem. she dresses like a bratz doll. she’s dedicated to the aesthetic.

03. headcanons !

her item brought from home is a hot pink poker chip from a casino. her dad gave it to her. he said it reminded him of her because of the color; he got it during one of his winning streaks and said it was lucky. she has a complicated relationship w/ her dad n doesn’t even speak to him anymore, bt she will never go anywhere without it.

she’s a smol bean—only 5′4

an astrology girl and she reads palms ! she absolutely makes astrology tik toks that people only watch because she’s hot. her flirting technique is to ask you to read your palm.

she doesn’t typically drink to get drunk. but she does love a good sugary cocktail. to her, a drink is like an accessory. a blue fishbowl by the pool, a jack and coke as she stands around a bar. usually she'll nurse the same beverage for a while. if you see her wasted it usually means she’s going thru it emotionally lol. the one thing she does do is drugs tho

pretty much listens to exclusively female artists.

a bit of an activist. environmentalism, feminism and the like, she’s v outspoken. vegan for ethical reasons (TW: drugs) bt still does cocaine. she wears shirts with ‘my pussy my choice’ bedazzled on the front.

loves to rollerblade ! back home she didn’t have a car so she’d bike or rollerblade. now she still has her blades and she’ll use them when the ship docks.

03. wanted connections !

Friends, bffs, ride or dies, friends who are like siblings to her, maybe a friend with an unrequited crush on either side ??

an ex she dumped/cheated on/otherwise self sabotaged their relationship because she was afraid of vulnerability.

an ex friend who realized she lies a lot abt herself n felt betrayed. OH ! ESP if they opened up to her on many occasions abt intimate, personal stuff. imagine the betrayal they felt when they found that everything they thought they knew abt clem is a lie.

someone who she actually opens up to. a confidant. or, maybe, like, a stranger she drunkenly spilled her soul to and now she avoids them like the plague.

a rival. clem can be competitive.

her drug dealer

someone she knows she shouldn’t hook up with and… does it anyways. like a friend’s ex or smthing. spicy <3

i welcome anything !

#seasintro #addiction tw #alcohol tw #drugs tw

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theworld-accordingtocasey · 1 year ago

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"It means a lot to me to have a home-cooked meal," you counter. "No matter what, I'm sure it will taste delicious."

I’m thinking now have I’ve not eaten anything of substance (as in, not bug stew 😖) other than ramen noodles for a while now, except the morning I tried to jump Ty..

"Our arrangement is less than conventional," he says, clearing his throat. "In some ways we're lucky to have each other, in others . . . well. Like most partnerships outside the Dome's ours is driven by necessity. And . . ."

Yes??? 👀👂🏾

You glance up, catching the bob in his throat as he finishes swallowing whatever he was about to say. "Let's eat, shall we? Hopefully this is edible."

OH CMON DONT JUST LEAVE ME HANGING!! 😩

"Right," he says with a sigh. "But what about being loved?"

🥺 cue my waterworks …

"Why imagine something impossible," you say, finally meeting his gaze.

Poor me :c

"Whether you like it or not, your existence is a potential spark for change. Your genetics aren't an anomaly, I believe they were deliberately developed and implanted within the Imperial bloodline to change the outcome of designated rule."

( ͡☉ ͜ʖ ͡☉ )

"If you followed in the footsteps of your grandmother and produced the next generation of heirs, you would be doing so with the ability to introduce the Nostradomina strain as a baseline for any future offspring,” he explains. “Your mother understood that if the elders found this out, you would be summarily executed.”

(ʘ ͟ʖ ʘ)

So… this is the secret in the summary I reckon •_•

"So that's what you really care about." You pull your hand back. "If you think I have anything to share that I haven't under torture than no, you are right. I do not think this pack is capable of being worthy of me."

Whatever tears you've shed run dry, again. Best not to spend another moment being seduced into complacency by a man with a pretty voice and careful words.

No lie fr I fell for it too and forgot who tf the crackpot unhinged paranoiac conspiracy theorist I am! :( he duped both me’s…..

"I think we need each other for survival," you say. "I am grateful that we can align on mutual interests. But please don't mistake me for someone who believes you would ever put my needs over those of this pack's or Taeyong’s. As long as we understand that, we don't need to pretend.”

The cold shock of how easily I (me-me, not y/n-me) drank the Kool-Aid, even after sending an ask saying how I have a hard time believing they really care, is freezing lol

Like he didn’t even try to convince me that he wasn’t trying to finesse me! Wow…”I’m truly sorry” ARE YOU??? Snake-rabbit…

Graves in this conflict were euphemistic: when you died there was no one to write home for you or carry your dogtags back, you were just a number on a screen for some scum who paid enough for the Millitech commission and maybe gave you a meal if they shot enough promotional footage to pay for it.

Like a…last meal on death row? 😳

The stories that had come out of his Academy days painted him as unforgiving in hand-to-hand combat, enacting punishments on Alphas who tested him based on his smaller size.

GOOD FOR HIM! 🌹👏🏾

"Private, you can either apologize for attempting to hit a superior officer or be gang-planked well before we reach port."

GANGPLANKED?!!

BITCHHHHHHH 👏🏾👹

"I will throw you off this ship personally if I see your face or those of your compatriots, do you understand me?"

the solution to his problem had been there from the start.

??????👀??????what problem?

". . . Including my own death."

WHAT!???

"Mercy?" Yuta says. "That suicide note is a writ of execution to be carried out by whoever sent her here."

Oh…😮‍💨fuck I thought it was his own note or something…phew— not that me having a suicide note is good either but I’d feel worse if it was Ty, he’s too wholesome…

Chile let me just go back and read that scene from the top now that I know I misinterpreted it lol 😅

🔄

*Ok. Now I see how my eyes somehow skipped the ___ in the name..see fellas, this is why it’s good to read slowly👻

"...𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚢 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑."

Wait so I’m suicidal again?? is this the thing I mentioned at the end of my talk with Doyoung? Or it could also be me trying to get the head honchos off our asses so I can integrate into the pack and they won’t look for me? (Idk if this would stop em but it’d be worth a hypothetical try if that’s what is happening here…)

"Mercy?" Yuta says. "That suicide note is a writ of execution to be carried out by whoever sent her here.”

SHUT UP YUTA

-also yes dy is sooo right, like wtf would I give you any information that could compromise us when you’ve alr massively fucked up before declaring you’re leaving AND aren’t even the least bit sorry about what happened? Boy bye

Tap tap tap. Thunk thunk thunk. Tap tap tap.

Me, ever suspicious: is that L.O.L ? Are they mocking this chaotic mess???

Also me: I should look up Morse code before I say that bUT WHY ELSE WOULD THEY BE LAUGHING

Update: poor attempt at trying to figure out my bad interpretation i thought “s.o.s”? But then that’s not funny so there’s not a reason to laugh at that…am puzzled

a gentle tongue breaketh the bone | 17: chivalry

pairing: fem hybrid fox omega!reader/hybrid Alpha!nct 127

tags: reverse harem, non-traditional omegaverse hybrid! cyberpunk au, pack dynamics, polyamory, slowburn/slowbuild, angst & hurt/comfort, heavy content warnings inc. torture, graphic violence, suicidal ideation, explicit sexual content

summary: the year is 2127. decades of eugenics and warfare have led to the rise of designated populations: the ruler Alphas and their rare, prized omegas sequestered from the Beta population. in the aftermath of the War of the Two Tigers, New Goryeo ushers in an Imperial dynasty determined not by birthright but by the alliance of the Syndicate’s clancorps to choose the best pack of your generation. you are destined to take your place within the Imperial harem as a queen, and–perhaps–Imperatrix herself

but you have a secret, written into your skin and bones–one that could easily kill you, depending on who finds it out

ten years ago you chose your Alpha and their pack in a fateful meeting

now, you must make them choose you

[masterlist & glossary] [read on AO3] [0: prologue] [1: escape, again] [2: lost and found] [3: returned] [4: bound] [5: home] [6: gift] [7: reunion] [8: security] [9: secret] [10: prisoner] [11: gambit] [12: haze] [13: shock] [14: feral] [15: release] [16: acceptance]

wc: 5k

chapter warnings: none except mild xenophobia, racism (one use of an anti-japanese slur)

recommended listening: STREAM FACT CHECK BY 127 (in all seriousness, though, Misty is my favorite of the new b-sides and works well for this)

Doyoung's insistence that you move into his shared executive suite with Taeyong proves to be a challenge. For one, Taeyong’s nest horrifies you–a sentiment seemed to be shared by his mate.

"He spent most of his childhood in a bunker," Doyoung explains. "You don't have to stay in the foxhole."

Taeyong had created the darkest, strangest abode possible: a closed space built into his half of the apartment that you have to almost crawl into. Deep inside it’s lit by a variety of warm lights set off by graffitied walls and a maximalist approach to bedding and adornments. You peer only for a few seconds into the abyss through the smaller entrance, sniffing at the faded musk scents before ducking back up and shaking your head.

"It feels . . . Wrong to intrude," you state quietly. "Doesn't he need it right now?"

Doyoung's sigh is palpable. "He’ll survive. Until you're ready he'll stay with the person who most closely matches your profile."

Of course, you think. Johnny.

"I can be ready," you say. It's not a statement that extends to your heart, not after everything, but you'd been raised to duty.

Doyoung drops your luggage to place his hands against your upper arms, touch featherlight to keep you from feeling caged.

"Absolutely not. Not until Taeil clears you. Until then you are still in recovery. From here on you are not doing anything that isn't your heart's design and by your own will."

You blink up at him, eyes blurring with tears. "I didn't know you were so nice."

"Don't tell my enemies." He laughs softly, gaze a little sad. "It does seem you've been shown a woeful lack of hospitality, in addition to . . . everything else."

You shake your head. "Let's not."

"Right, you need to eat first. And then we'll talk about what comes next."

You expect to be able to help him–almost want to serve him to see how he would respond–but Doyoung forbids you from the huge, open kitchen. He has a bit of an addled and untrained approach to his work that has you feeling a little lighter as you gently offer suggestions with suppressed laughter in your voice.

"Taeyong usually does this," he says, unfazed by your amusement or the way you gently correct him before he can add sugar in place of salt.

"It means a lot to me to have a home-cooked meal," you counter. "No matter what, I'm sure it will taste delicious."

You watch him grow a few inches, long back straightening as he preens under your attention. For a moment you are transported to a different life entirely–one in which you feel like the vagaries of your kind can be ignored.

"Here," he says, pouring you something milky white into a bowl from a bottle. "Just something to dull the day."

"Rice wine?" You ask after taking a sniff.

"We have a building resident who brews with a traditional process. It's not too heady, but take it slow."

"Thank you," you murmur, sipping. The taste is slightly chalky but sparkling with ferment, light and sweet on your tongue. "For everything."

Doyoung relaxes a little, as if already dancing on the same wavelength of your emotion.

"I wanted to spend time with you tonight, if you don't mind."

"I don't mind." You shake your head, drinking deeper.

Doyoung's dark eyes dart away, cheek pulled between his teeth as he thinks.

"I will, of course, let you sleep here on your own–"

"Oh no. Please," you look up at him, frantically. "Please don't leave me alone."

You quell your anxiety attack, rambling a bit. "Even just to sleep, I need someone. You smell . . . You smell very nice to me."

Doyoung's eyes grow wide, frozen in the act of capping the bottle. Remembering your first conversation at the dinner table has you second-guessing your words.

"Not that way. I mean, I won't bite you, I promise. I just appreciate having you here."

He's just as startled by your response as you are to having it, diffusing the awkwardness by pouring you more makgeolli, a smile tugging at the corner of his prim mouth.

"You're very kind to worry," he says. "But I can manage myself. I'm honored by your trust and your willingness to keep me company."

You flush, face heating. "I'm not causing you any problems with Taeyong?"

Although your litany of failures was impressive, coming between a pairbond match was not something you could forgive yourself for. He smells deeply of your new mate, more fox than anyone here for the clinging of musk on his skin.

You glance up, catching the bob in his throat as he finishes swallowing whatever he was about to say. "Let's eat, shall we? Hopefully this is edible."

Thankfully, the tofu stew is perfect, otherwise the drink would easily go to your head. He keeps an eye on your indulgence but your cup is filled consistently. Doyoung sits beside you at the table rather than across, an arrangement that makes you feel safer eating without reservation, nose in your bowl.

The conversation melts away the tension and the occasional splinter of pain in your body, muscles easing with the wine and his company. He seems to have a boundless knowledge of court gossip, even details the years should have swept away, and you find yourself more you–more the person you remembered even if that had been its own kind of artifice.

You avoid talking about anything personal until it can no longer wait, once he's finished with the dishes and brings your things to his beautifully clean and open bedroom. It's clear his aesthetic sensibilities are more aligned with your own–white and gray surfaces broken up only by the occasional houseplant or art piece.

Much more comfortingly, you are saturated in Alpha scent–a marine quality to it that shines through the wafting sweetness of his prey genome.

"I have a favor to ask," you say, sitting on the edge of the oversized bed, holding yourself to keep the tremors fixed inside you.

"Anything," he says, remaining at a distance.

"I would like . . . " you begin, faltering. "If I'm chosen, I need your help. Integrating into this life. As this pack's omega."

The heaviness returns. You're tired, of course, satisfyingly full. But you feel better than you have in days. His response is a counterweight to that feeling.

"Can I ask you something that may be too personal for you to answer?" Doyoung asks.

Your heart sinks, recognizing the beginning of a difficult conversation. You had known there wasn't enough time to protest your inclusion–your acceptance of them did not mean they accepted you. No, that would be up for vote at the tribunal, if the pack even remained.

"As it pleases you," you nod.

Doyoung kneels down in front of you, the wide cant of his shoulders dipping as he takes your hand. Your heartbeat is racing, but not from fear. You fixate on the veins leading to the back of his wrists, and the tenderness of his thumb over your trembling fingers.

"I feel like I know everything about you, but we really haven't had time to talk without pretense," he says softly. "I want you to know that you're safe with me."

"I know," you say, not sure of it even as you speak it.

"Please be honest with yourself, if not for me," he says.

Fear paces up and down your spine but you will your fox to relax, held still.

"___," he says. "If, in another world, another life, we'd been allowed to be the pack you chose instead of the one forced upon you. Do you believe we could have ever been worthy of you?"

Worthy? Your ears flatten back, chin ducking autonomically in half-hearted submission. "I don't know what you mean."

"Imagine there wasn't a disparity between our numbers. You were free to choose any mate you desired. No designation even. Have you ever considered what you would look for in a potential partner? Or partners?"

You remember being a child, told you were something special. One worthy of being selected, and courted long before the ceremonies that preceded mating. Not a person or an equal, perhaps, but a prize to be treasured.

The word worthy continues to prick at you, making you feel cold and more hollow.

"I hadn't considered it." You admit, peering up just far enough to take in his serious expression. "I think even if I had I would accept that whoever chose me would never know if it was . . ."

Just biology. Compulsion. Determined fate.

"What would be the point?" you say, airily. "It's not like any of us have a real choice in this world who we're drawn to."

Or what would tear you apart.

"Right," he says with a sigh. "But what about being loved?"

Love.

That word breaks you in its own way, hearing it spoken aloud. It almost makes you sick.

You'd never imagined being loved. Desired, yes–for what you represented or could offer. A conditional transaction, upheld through mutual courtesy if not mutual respect.

No, being loved–loving someone–is an ugly and messy thing, you think.

"Why imagine something impossible," you say, finally meeting his gaze. His eyes are so dark you'd never noticed the lovely amber quality to them on the edges, the hare bleeding through.

"May I explain?" he asks.

You nod to indicate you're fine with whatever persuasion he's been mulling over, but inside you feel bolstered to defend your position.

"Wouldn't you look for someone who treats you with loving-kindness? Someone who prioritizes your needs over their own?" he asks, tentatively.

You shake your head, lip trembling. "It sounds like a child's fantasy."

"It goes back to the ancient code of chivalry. Even Alphas are taught to protect those perceived as weaker–to give them aid without questioning it, to protect those who cannot protect themselves."

Of course, you think, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. He's a Romantic. Chivalric dury was something you'd been immersed in since your first education in the Academy, but you'd yet to see it in action outside of protecting kin and country. No Alpha was capable of true sacrifice, to you it's just a mask to better humanize the ugly truth of a dominating and self-serving nature.

"You find this droll," he says, understanding your disinterest. "I admit it's just a code of honor that no one really believes in, anymore."

"No," you say, shaking off your prejudices. "I think it has value. But I would rather have honesty."

Doyoung is surprisingly quiet, waiting for you to continue.

"If someone considers me less powerful or something to be helped," you shudder at your own choice of terminology, "I would rather them be honest with their intent than to deign to show me mercy."

"Easier to judge the motivations of those who would do you harm, right?" Doyoung's smile takes on a wry edge. "I was raised in the Palace, too, you know."

"Oh, I know," you say. "I think I was a few years behind yours on instruction but Master Park Jinyoung did a number on us both, didn't he?"

You don't call upon your teaching in ancient history but rather etiquette, no class before yours or after insusceptible to a lesson delivered by a handsome Alpha who looked each of his subjects in the eye when delivering instructions. He’d drilled a great deal into you, much of it related to proper behavior. But especially that of courtship.

He squeezes your fingers, rolling his head to hide his embarrassment.

"Pardon me for preaching to the choir, I think it's easy to lose my point when you . . . well, you smell very nice to me, too."

Honesty, again. You feel a tingling sense of delight, seeing him with his guard down. For some reason you’d assumed he wouldn’t be interested in you, but this is an admission of sorts–an invitation. It’s a shame he immediately reverts to logician.

"But you're operating on a false assumption. The feeling is genuine. Whether it's biological or conditional is a metaphysical argument no one should entertain. What matters is here."

He brings your hand to his chest, but doesn't make you touch him, hands enclosing your own.

"You don't have to accept a match you are forced into by a scarcity of options. You deserve to be loved."

You’re not sure whether to laugh, or cry. For how similar your worlds should be he appears to not even be on the same planet as you are.

"So Alphas think about these kinds of things, too?"

"Human or animal makes no difference. We both die little-by-little, day-by-day, when we're forced into a life we haven't chosen for ourselves."

"I was making a choice when I left for Strictland," you say, voice wry.

"Yes," he exhales. You feel those walls coming back up, watching the gears turn behind those narrow features as he decides how to dispute you.

"If it wasn't Nyctos retrieving you, it would have been another. You don't know the level of attrition the Syndicate would be willing to subject you, or anyone who protected you to, to insure you weren't in the hands of one of the Free packs."

Suspicion makes you wary; this is much too close to an understanding yet unspoken between you. Had they made the contract with you, knowing this?

“Including Nyctos?" you ask, hoping he reads the double meaning in your words.

“We may be exiles, but we’re not Free,” he says, letting it sink in before he continues. “The Syndicate has allowed us to exist because Taeyong has never openly disagreed with the ideology his father enforced, and died for.”

“He’s not like him,” you agree, shuddering.

Such a horrible lineage, millions dying just for one man to prove he could be king over the ruins. Even if the Second Prince had died uncrowned, he'd been the major force behind the worst of the burgeoning efforts of the Syndicate, to make sure the war was won in their favor.

“No. Not at all,” Doyoung agrees, affection transparent in his voice. “Much like you, we are held hostage to our family’s sins.”

“So even if I weren’t bonded to any of you, you think this is the safest place I could be?” you ask. “Didn’t they try to kill you, too?”

Doyoung sits up, waiting for your permission to sit down beside you. Your hand is still captured in his, but you nod, sinking into his warm presence, his thigh pressed to your own.

“There’s something we wanted to talk to you about–there’s a lot really–but something I think you might not know, yet,” he begins, warily. “The reason why there was never any question that you’d enter the Imperial harem. Even with . . . your genetics.”

You swallow, mouth dry.

“Please,” you urge him to continue.

The words are a shock to you, the room suddenly frigid as your mind races to understand the implications beneath the rush of panic. "What?"

"If you go back, you die. No matter what happens, you run."

You nod rather than speak, afraid your voice will betray you.

“It seems that where many are trying to kill you or use you, there are also forces still protecting you."

"My brother?" Your voice is tiny, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

"More likely someone within the palace itself," Doyoung says. He holds, but only long enough to clock that you’re not refuting it. "Do you have any idea who that could be?"

You clench your jaw, remembering the feeling of being shocked over and over again through the last line of interrogation. It keeps you from breaking, so tired of hiding but emboldened to shut this down before you can reveal anything outside the bonds of complete security.

“No,” you say.

Doyoung recognizes your discomfort, if not your lie, stroking your hand.

"It's not important, right now. I'm sorry to overwhelm you."

Whatever tears you've shed run dry, again. Best not to spend another moment being seduced into complacency by a man with a pretty voice and careful words.

It takes him a long time to respond, standing silently by the bed as you crawl into it, tucking your tail around you.

"I'm truly sorry, ___."

You clutch the pillow beneath your head, smelling the melange of the other two who've shared it, a distant third scent making your heart stone. You know you're on your own tonight–you won't beg him to stay beside you. His hesitation is only as good as his retreat, watching you from the doorway.

"I'm ready," you say. "For the tribunal . . . and everything else. Are my terms acceptable?”

You’d had to write it out, unable to make your demands heard if they were in any voice but the one written in your own hand, words preserved with intent and simplicity.

“As you wish,” he says. “I’ll make the preparations.”

Yuta Nakamoto [puma concolor α] - assistant inspector second rank, Neo Seoul Police Response, formerly warrant officer rank junwi, Neo Seoul Military Response

There was a time back in the 2110's when Suh Youngho was just a reserve in the NG Foreign Legion, on the same misfit detail he'd been assigned to. A skinny NUSA kid with a tendency to smile and talk more than anyone was used to.

A tall poppy just waiting to get domed, they'd said. No one who'd been in this shitass war more than five days would have cracked a joke about it–not after watching the newly-formed Syndicate's tendency to put fresh bodies into beachfront graves.

No, the war was already over and the remnants of it had taken them both as far as they could before armistice. Yuta remembers leaving the mess hall as the screens flashed white and the surrender was played, pretending he hadn't seen or understood the message as he carried two rations back to shared quarters.

It would be the first and last blissful journey he made back without having a tray upended, without hearing the spitting invective of another upjumped commissioned officer.

Or so he thought.

"Hey, jjokbari." Lieutenant Choi calls from behind him, a laugh and a whistle accompanying the slur. "That for your Yankee boyfriend? He think he can sleep in today of all days?"

Yuta resists the urge to flip him off, nodding politely in their direction as if he hadn't heard a word. It's not enough–has never been enough–but he continues on with ears pricked towards the sound of movement, hoping they choose the day's flavor of nationalism in the anthem blaring down the hallway instead of tormenting the foreigners risking their lives for them.

"Not gonna celebrate with us, Na?" His second-in-command, Ji taunts. "Enough omega girls to fuck waiting back home?"

Yuta can count the doors back to safety on one hand. Maybe it's a mistake he keeps going.

Maybe.

There's the pounding of footsteps–someone much heavier and less graceful than the commissioned officer. He waits until they try to swing–too wide, too flailing–to duck under it and move back. Whatever response Private Bootlicker was hoping for it's not the subtle step-away that leaves him lurching into the metal deck.

"Did he even touch him?" Another grunt asks, forever denied a response by the voice that speaks next.

"Attention."

Instinct has Yuta turning, saluting, tray balanced in his rest hand.

"At ease, gentlemen."

The man stepping into the corridor is dressed in bright red military regalia fitting only the finest, upjumped officer. At least with this one he can count on some of the medals being earned rather than on account of being Daddy General Lee II's favorite.

Despite the contradictory image of a bioengineered ears and tail and a teenager’s lanky frame, Crown Prince and Captain Lee Taeyong is well-respected within the ranks and twice as deadly as any of the assholes on the carrier. The stories that had come out of his Academy days painted him as unforgiving in hand-to-hand combat, enacting punishments on Alphas who tested him based on his smaller size.

Something is different today; Yuta has never seen him without a full retinue, has barely seen him at all outside of mission briefs. But here he is below deck–accompanied by an Imperial attache in an officer’s field uniform.

"Lieutenant Choi, you're needed for requisition of materiel in Zone 3. Report to Chief Petty Officer Ahn immediately."

"Aye, aye, Captain." The gang recedes, laughter booming off the ceiling even this far away.

"Private, you can either apologize for attempting to hit a superior officer or be gang-planked well before we reach port." The Captain addresses the man currently skulking away, before he can leave sight.

Yuta watches his would-be bully grovel, unable to respond for fear he'll be reported back on to Choi and his like. Even with the war over there would always be the clancorps to rely on for another boot upon his neck.

"Private Kim," Taeyong's attendant says, coughing.

"You're officially free to go back to–" the small man reads through a specific address and name. "Busan. Placed your name on the first transport flight out as crew."

"I will throw you off this ship personally if I see your face or those of your compatriots, do you understand me?"

Taeyong doesn't have to bare his teeth for the threat to be made and understood. Soon they're alone, again, just two breakfasts and the most Yuta has seen of command since joining as a warrant officer.

"Fuck." The Captain says, bending over to the floor. He's shivering all over, scent blockers doing little to hide the cloying cinnamon and musk roiling off of him. Yuta thinks he’s lucky the majority of the remaining crew are Beta recruits or young enough not to know the difference in scents, true designated like themselves having been run through within the first years of the war.

"You didn't see this." The other officer on deck says, bent over a touchpad. Yuta finally notices the universal red cross of a medic along with the hangeul name badge: Moon. "Which way is 119?”

"That's my bunk, sir."

Both of them look up, the Captain’s squinting eyes opened wide.

"Nakamoto Yuta, is your roommate Suh Youngho?"

"Correct, sir."

"Take me to your quarters and you'll never have to call me sir again," the Crown Prince says, on the floor, tail batting to and fro.

"Discreetly, please," Moon adds.

Yuta hadn't given a second thought to the command, still wouldn't years later. If anything they'd saved him the sole duty of escorting Suh in his first rut, 100 leagues from the nearest proxy hotel. No one else had their back until then. A stroke of luck, or fate–it didn't matter.

He’d chosen Nyctos, and the others, for life.

Now he's in another foreign prison under the guise of conscription, resident of cell block C in what should have been his own home, receiving updates in morse code from Jungwoo tapping impatiently on the other side of the wall.

Taeyong is the first to visit, posture bent by almost a week in recovery from whatever you have put him through, sweating through his suit. He waits for the others before speaking his piece over the door comms. Yuta has seen his commander in this state many times since that first encounter, but he can’t help but find it funny–the solution to his problem had been there from the start.

"I take responsibility for everything that happened," Taeyong announces, after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence and no sign of being joined by the others.

Jungwoo's laugh can't be heard through the thick walls but Yuta echoes it, slumping into his cot. They’d made a bet that Taeyong would issue a formal apology on behalf of his mate, a fact that Yuta relied on enough he’d just won. He expects admonishment from Taeyong but instead the pack's omega reads something scrawled on ancient copy paper.

". . . Including my own death."

It's carbon-scored and dotted black with what looks like blood or water-staining, script tight and messy.

"I am a political refugee who sought asylum. I end my journey here. If this message reaches any of those who care for me, I am leaving as a final act of mercy. Please do not punish anyone involved, they did not know who or what I was when they took me in."

Taeyong's voice chokes on that line in his reading. Yuta watches him sit cross-legged on the floor between cells, gripped by bodily torment or emotion–he cannot say.

"Signed Lee ____, last child of Lee Eunji."

The silence hangs over them through the static of the comm, until Yuta laughs again, much more darkly.

"Mercy?" Yuta says. "That suicide note is a writ of execution to be carried out by whoever sent her here."

“She wrote this before we even brought her back,” Taeyong growls, low, standing up to stare him down. "She's not operating against us. Or at least she wasn't until you two began terrorizing her."

The gravity of that statement is wasted on him.

“Pretty clear she was expecting someone to find it, then,” Yuta says. “Smart girl.”

The window slams with Taeyong’s fist, just a streak of red tail visible through the haze of dust. Yuta stands up to join him at the window, stretching against the day spent in solitary and yawning as if he’s more comfortable than stiff.

"Do you have any compassion?" Taeyong asks once he’s done, brows lowered as he looks at him through the barrier. "You took initiative to torture her without a directive or a lead. Left her unsupervised and unsearched. We could have had a dead omega on our hands."

An expensive mistake, Yuta thinks, but he knows better than to provoke the captain by saying it aloud. He shrugs.

"Johnny gave the order to investigate her," Yuta says, too defensively for his own comfort. "It's not my fault he didn't specify a methodology."

"Just how they do things in NSMP, right?" Taeyong asks, crumpling the paper in his anger. "Any means necessary, is it?"

He doesn't speak, denying him an emotional response.

"You haven't asked us what we found," Jungwoo says, his lilting voice distorted by the speaker.

Taeyong's firm expression falters. Got him. As much as he enjoys seeing Taeyong’s attempts to interrogate them via emotional manipulation, it's better to use this opportunity to pluck out whatever card is hidden up the Vulpine’s sleeve. There’s been a woeful lack of transparency within the pack of late, compartmentalization of intelligence constantly invoked where the four in charge were concerned.

If he’s going to be exiled over something as banal as a feral omega with a deathwish, it would be nice to understand why you’re considered more important than the pack itself.

"You already know who’s behind this, don't you?" Yuta says.

He doesn’t mean the events, those were already reported. Taeyong knows exactly what he’s implied, his own slit-eyes breaking away to look at the floor. He’s quiet, smoothing the letter–which Yuta notes is much longer than what was read, text impossible to work out from this vantage.

“It’s need to know,” Taeyong says, “until we have more information.”

Yuta smirks at him. “And why would that be? Someone worth protecting? Family perhaps?”

“The pack,” Taeyong snaps immediately. There’s an ancestral quality to his posture, head stooped and ears flattened, sharp little canines bared. Yuta registers the promised threat in that he finds it intriguing, but his cat ignores it entirely.

Thankfully Doyoung interrupts before the Captain can embarrass himself further with the jimseung-like lack of control, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"We have a suspicion of who it might be after performing the decrypt. Yet another reminder that your little routine was completely unnecessary." Doyoung glances down at his agent with a bored expression. "You can't possibly think we'd share that information with you when you're threatening to leave."

Yuta nods in agreement, keeping his mouth shut.

"The tribunal will be held the day after tomorrow. I hope you reflect on your actions and get your affairs in order before then."

He unlocks the doors to their cells, not waiting for them to join as he leads Taeyong away.

The strategist looks over his shoulder as he escorts the Captain out. “Oh, and if I were you, I’d avoid Suh tonight. No telling what he’ll do in his state.”

Yuta waits until they’re gone to tap a message back to Jungwoo, who he can’t help but notice hasn’t left his cell, either. Knowing the Canid he’s probably already locked the door again, from the inside.

Tap tap tap. Thunk thunk thunk. Tap tap tap.

This time, he can hear the other Alpha laugh quietly at the joke.

[previous] [next] [check the masterlist before you proceed]

#nct 127 #fanfic #“Private Bootlicker”#sksksksk #🤭#DISMISSED #why are y’all laughing…. Like ok it was a bet but is this the time..like…guys plz ಠ_ಠ #they don’t sound remorseful at mf ALL.#wait so is letting them out of their cells but jungwoo doesn’t want to go out?#Usually “get affairs in order’ is what I’m used to hearing someone say when writing their wills …ㅇㅅㅇ #(Also Yuta mad disrespectful to someone who saved him…)#(schadenfreude for wrongdoers in all capacities even a tiny bit delights me greatly 😇😌 can y’all tell)

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ahsoka-lives · 5 years ago

Text

Off Moon

Iris pt. 4 of my Inquisitor!Cal x Reader fic

Warnings: Cal is kind of a *ss in this, thigh riding, foreplay.

A/N: This is a big one in terms of the plot of the fic. I had a lot of fun writing it and I hope you all enjoy it!! I don’t think it’s my best but I still enjoyed the process. Please feel free to leave feedback because I absolutely love hearing from you guys!! Gif is by @water-aesthetics

Word Count: 3689

The waves of Iris crashed into the shores. The tranquil sound floated into the cracked window of the room. The glow of the lamp beside the bed filled the space with a soft yellow hue. Never have you felt such serenity, such peace. But there was something strange and unfamiliar about this place. Where were you? Why were you here?

“You’re here because I wanted you here.” Cal’s deep voice spoke into your ear bringing a gasp from your throat. His arms snaked around your waist and held you to his chest. “I can feel it. Your place is with me, no where else.”

“I can’t be with you all the time, Cal.” You try to move against his hold but it only tightens.

“This isn’t up for discussion.” He chided and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Pack a bag, I have work off moon and you’re coming. I’ll be at your apartment shortly, be ready.”

“Y/n, wake up, y/n” BD was nudging your shoulder with one of his hands as he tried to wake you. “You were talking in your sleep. Please stop, it is very annoying.”

Your droid turned and left your room, leaving you to stare at your ceiling wondering how you had a dream so vivid. It was like a memory more than a dream and you couldn’t decide if it was what you wished for or what you feared.

Sighing, you decide to take a shower and wash the feeling off of your skin. You strip and let the cool droplets of water fall over you. It soothes your tightly wound nerves and resets your mind. Knowing you had to be at work soon, you finish and quickly get dressed.

You combed through your hair before pausing over the sink. You could hear the same idyllic sound of waves from your dream, the familiarity startles you and you suddenly feel like someone was watching you. All of your motions come to a halt, your shoulders tense, and chills cover your body.

“I thought I told you to be ready, little girl.” A distorted voice scolded you. Your eyes shoot up to the mirror and behind you stands a tall Inquisitor who was dressed to kill. A black helmet shielded his entire skull, armor covered his upper torso with a white imperial branding pressed to his shoulders, black combat boots look worn down, and a saber hung from his waist.

Within seconds of his words you scream out in fear and stagger away from the man who had stepped in from the doorway and reached out to you with a menacing arm.

“Gods, calm down, y/n. It’s me! It’s Cal!” The raspy modulated voice from behind the mask rushed out as he removed it. “I forgot I had this thing on, I’m sorry.”

You were pressed to the far wall of the bathroom panting heavily from the idea of being brutally cut in half with a lightsaber. Thankfully, the fear subsided quickly as you were distracted by Cal’s appearance.

He looked kinda hot in the gear, something you hadn’t noticed when you saw him from the bridge days ago. The pants fit him well making his legs appear longer and the armor across his chest accentuated his broad stature. His eyes were his normal green and they contrasted well to the darkness of his attire.

“Wha-what are you doing here?” You ask as you begin to regain composure. His now exposed face allowed you to see his confusion at your question.

“I already told you. I have a mission off moon and you will be coming with me, we’re lucky I came to get you early or this would have made us late. Come, I will help you pack.” He explained nonchalantly before leaving you in the bathroom.

Your mind reeled at how fast all of this was happening. He never told you anything. Well, not to your face.

“That was real? How did you get in my head?” Now you were the one with a commanding voice. You couldn’t believe someone could be so bold.

He chuckled before turning on his heel to face you. He looked you up and down dropping his helmet onto your bed.

“It was very real, y/n. There are many things you don’t know about my abilities but now is not the time to talk about these things. Please collect your temper and pack, I won’t be happy if we’re late because you decided to have an attitude with me.” His voice was smooth outside of the mask but equally intimidating. His eyes hadn’t left you and the two of you seem to be locked in a staring match.

“I- I can’t just leave. I have work, I have BD-5, I-” You were cut off by Cal groaning like a frustrated teenager who just wasn’t getting his way.

“BD-5, come in here please.” He called, eyes still locked onto you.

Your droid came in seconds later.

“Sir, what can I help with?”

”Please pack a travel bag for y/n, quickly. We’ll be having a word in the other room.” Cal took your hand, swiftly carrying the two of you to your living room.

He led you in front of him and released your hand. Once again, you had no idea what his next move was and you stood there on high alert waiting for what was to come.

“You will be joining me. I had you relieved of your position-”

“You what?” Your jaw was on the floor. “Give me one good reason why I should listen to you!?” You shout in disbelief. You swore that you were ready to take him on in a fight right then and there. “Do you really think you can talk to me like a child and make decisions on my behalf just because l think you’re slightly attractive?”

“No, I think I can talk to you how I choose and make decisions on your behalf because I outrank you. You couldn’t stop me if you tried, physically or structurally. Now, stop interrupting me before I take fixing your attitude into my own hands.” He paused and leaned closer to your face, so close you could faintly feel his breath as he spoke.

“You’ve been assigned to me, you will work as my personal technician on my ships and my tech. Your salary has increased considerably and now you won’t spend every waking moment on this rock.” His voice was sweet now, but it felt taunting. “And don’t forget, my flower, I’ve seen the way you think of me. ‘Slightly' is a rude understatement.”

You were stuck between seething with rage and being mildly grateful. It was a major improvement but he was being an audacious prick.

“Fine.” You say through your teeth and look away from him.

“We leave for Kashyyyk in 15. My ship is where you last saw it” He straightened his posture and pulled gloves onto his hands. “I’m going to head down. I’ll see you shortly.” His words were a threat, your last chance to test his patience.

His hand stretched out to summon his helmet before pulling it over his head, the last piece of his intimidating ensemble.

Cal was kneeling on the ground talking to BD-1 through his mask when you got to the platform. He hoisted his companion into his separate compartment on the lower part of the ship and turned to greet you. You suddenly felt shy again, his presence was powerful and you wanted to cower away.

“Your bag.” He reached his hand out to take it from you storing it next to his.

You looked to admire the tie fighter. It was state of the art weaponry, built to be the ideal single pilot ship. Single Pilot. How hadn’t you realized earlier? The cockpit of these ships had one seat and it was fairly cramped. Your face twisted in disbelief and Cal seemed to have taken notice.

“Don’t start with me, flower.” He sounded playful now and you decided it was best not to start. Besides, what were your other options?

He rose to his feet, pulling the ladder to the cockpit down and making his way into the ship. As you reached the top of the ladder your heart started doing flips in your chest. His gloved hands helped you down onto his lap in the pilots chair.

“Comfortable?” His distorted voice asked as he released your hips and snaked his arms out to begin fiddling with the controls.

You simply nod to avoid the stutter or cracking of your voice, not wanting him to know how nervous he made you.

“Nothing to say now, y/n?” He mused, now using one arm to hold you in place against his chest. He pushed a few more buttons and pushed the central lever forward. The ship was lifting off the ground now. He skillfully steered the ship away from the facility with his free hand and before you knew it the buildings were miniature specks below.

“Alright, BD-1, take over.” He instructed releasing his hold on the steering. Both of his gloved hands moved to his helmet and revealed his face once again. “Once we reach minimum safe distance from the imperial fleet up here we will jump to hyperspace so, be prepared.” He muttered close to your ear making your breath shallow.

You acknowledge his words with a nod and relax slightly into his lap. He was radiating warmth and his arms snaked around your waist. “Still mad, flower?” His voice hummed, vibrations coming off of his chest weakened you further.

“I-I’m fine.” Your mouth was dry, you were struggling to keep composure and he wasn’t helping.

He suddenly gripped your hips and hoisted you around to straddle his waist. The movement almost made you dizzy and you felt yourself get annoyed at how much he’d man-handled you today. He's lucky he’s cute.

You were face to face with Cal. You took a moment to take in his appearance, his hair was somehow still neatly pushed back despite time in the helmet and it looked as soft as ever. As your eyes rake over his face you notice a look of concern covering his features.

"Your heart is pounding, are you a nervous flyer?” His hands were still gripping your hips tightly and your top had ridden up slightly allowing him to feel your bare skin.

You falter at his words and look away. Trying desperately to relax and ignore the feeling of arousal that came from your current position. You were flustered, pressed tightly against him feeling his thumbs trace circles on your hips. The memory of him kissing your neck was fresh in your mind and right now you all you wanted was to feel that again. But you were still so agitated with him, you weren’t used to someone being so brazen.

A gentle hand grips your chin bringing your eyes back to meet his. He’s watching you intently, eyes flickering to your lips.

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll just look for myself.” He muttered, watching your face intently

“I just haven’t flown in so long.” You shrug and try to keep a straight face. You were beyond comfortable flying, you even had a pilots license.

“You’re a terrible liar.” He chuckled, his smile making your stomach flutter. “I can see you don’t like being told what to do.”

“No, I don’t. I’m not some prisoner for you to shove around, Cal.” Your face was scrunched in anger. You hated having this conversation while in such a compromising position.

“First of all, I don’t take prisoners.” His voice was dripping with confidence. “Secondly, prisoners don’t have the luxury of traveling throughout the galaxy with round the clock protection and someone around to meet their every need.”

“What if I told you I don’t need to be taken care of?” You were being persistent with your defiance, making him wonder what it would take for you to just give in.

“I think you’ll find that you enjoy being put first by someone that can provide for you.” He was taking his time with his words, letting each of them flow through you. “Regardless of how you feel, I feel a pull toward you and I’m trained to never ignore my instincts so I won’t. It’s not only a want, but a need. It’s up to you to cooperate or continue to test me.

A light on the control panel began blinking in front of him. It meant that BD-1 has activated the hyperdrive and there was less than thirty seconds before the ship would jolt forward and undoubtedly startle you.

“I’d say we have 15 seconds till we blip out of here. Please tell me you’re not actually a nervous flyer.” He hurried his words and secured a hand behind your back.

“Well...”

Whooosh

The ship lurched forward and you pressed further into Cal. His grip on you was tight as you buried your face in his neck. A few moments later the ship had begun to travel steadily and you feel your muscles revert back to normal. You put some distance between the two of you be leaning slightly against the control panel.

“...I’d feel much safer if I was in a chair of my own.” You finish your statement.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“We have a couple hours of flying and we will be physically stuck together for it’s entirety. You call that fun?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what I call fun. It gives me plenty of time to handle your attitude before we reach our destination. I can’t have my troopers hearing the way you talk to me.” His eyes darkened as he spoke. His words were electrifying and you were starting to crave more of him.

You watched as he removed the gloves from his hands and placed them beside the seat. His now bare hands gripped your hips and pulled you forward onto his lap, the friction of his leg against your core making a wave of pleasure ripple through you.

His movements cease and he tilts his head in mock confusion. Your breath caught in your throat as you remembered his irritating habit of reading your energy signature.

“That felt good, didn’t it, flower?”

Now you wanted to scream, a recurring theme when you were with Cal. His warmth was washing over you and you could smell the musk of his cologne and the mint of his breath as he spoke tantalizing words to you. You were all but trembling in his lap, the small fantasies you’ve had about him that floated through your mind seemed dull in comparison to what was happening. Your brain felt fuzzy from the overwhelming feeling of desire, but you had no intention of giving him the satisfaction he so clearly wanted.

“Your silence doesn’t help you, y/n.” His voice was stern. One hand moved to cup the back of your neck, the other remained holding you steady. He gently moved his lips to ghost over yours, testing your restraint.

A light and soft kiss pressed to your lips. It felt like a wave of relief crashed into you as he continued to move his lips against yours. His tongue was gentle as it licked your bottom lip just before his teeth grazed over it. You were in shock at how well he knew your mouth. The hand resting behind your head had begun to fan out, his touch was firm but careful.

He separated his lips from yours with a soft groan and looked into your eyes, his hand still in place.

“Do you want to learn something new about me? About what I can do?” His question rang in your ears and all you could bring yourself to do was nod.

“Atta girl.” He muttered before looking down and blinking several times. When his eyes returned to yours they were tinted a familiar yellow. “I can usually feel a persons most significant emotion radiating from its source, right here.” He taps the base of your skull with two fingers. “Right now, you’re giving off a mess of emotions and it’s clouding my focus. But I know how to get a clear view and once I do, I can help you with your mess.”

“H-how?” You were feeling desperate and all too close to giving in.

“You just have to trust me, my flower.” He pressed another gentle kiss to your lips. “Do you want me to help you?” He cooed.

“Y-yes, please Cal.” You whimpered. He hummed lightly as his lips ghosted over the side of your neck and you closed your eyes trying to relax your overwhelmed senses.

“All you have to do is let me into that pretty little head of yours.” He muttered as his fingertips pressed down onto the base of your skull and before you realized what he meant, he succeeded. It felt like a gust of cool air seeped under your skin as he entered your mind again. Only this time he wasn’t after a memory, this time he just wanted to know exactly what you were feeling as you trembled in his lap.

“Gods, y/n, why didn’t you tell me?” He groaned feeling each of your feelings of frustration and arousal pile into his brain. He felt how your body hummed at the way he was gripping your hips just moments before and how close you were to bubbling over.

You only whimper quietly in response, your eyes remained shut and somehow you didn’t mind this intrusion. His fingers faltered for a moment before dropping and the cool air left with his touch. Your eyes fluttered open to meet his, they were now golden and shining as they stared back at you. His expression was soft as he guided your hands to rest on his shoulders before he moved his hands to your hips once again.

“Can I please help you, flower?” He pleaded with sincerity. He may have been controlling and damn near autocratic but this was one thing he didn’t want to just take.

You carried your hand up to his face and cupped his cheek. His skin was soft and delicate, freckles were sparsely spread across his cheeks that were flushed a light pink. Your eyes fluttered shut once and you kissed him again, muttering ‘Please’ when your lips briefly separated from his.

He was enjoying the delicate state you were in on top of him and it made it hard for him to focus. For a moment he cursed how small the ship was, it limited his options on what to do to you, for you.

He delicately tugged on the hem of your shirt before pulling it over your head. The cockpit was frigid and you were sure that without the warmth coming off of your Inquisitor, you’d be shivering in no time. He hands rubbed the small of your back as his eyes took in the view. They moved up to release the clasp on your bra and let it fall to the ground below.

One hand held you firmly in place while the other massaged your breast. His tongue grazed over your other nipple and your hands reached for his hair. You moaned quietly and pulled on the strands of hair that you collected in your fist. His hand left your breast and returned to his position at your hips. He lifted you up to place one of his legs between yours.

Had you not been so consumed by his teeth pulling lightly on your nipple, you would’ve questioned him. His fingertips were digging into hips, surely to leave bruises behind on you. His teeth sank into the tender flesh of your neck making your hips buck and a breathy sigh passed your lips from the friction of his thigh against your core.

“That’s it, sweet girl, just like that.” His hands guided your hips against his thigh sending pleasure rippling through you. “Let me take care of you.”

You were a whimpering mess on his lap as he carried you close to your orgasm. The tension forming in the base of your abdomen was tearing straight through any composure you held earlier.

“Cal, p-please don’t stop.” You whined in his ear, your nails scratching his strong shoulders that you held onto with a sense of urgency.

“Cum for me, flower.” His words came right beside your moans that echoed in the cockpit as you reached your high. You were blinded by the tension between your thighs being released as the man under you carried you through your orgasm. Whimpering his name you gripped the hair on the back of his head and laid your face onto his shoulder.

As the feeling faded you relaxed further against him, feeling exhausted but at ease. His arm reached into the air and brought over a hooded sweatshirt from behind him.

“Arms up.” His voice was gentle but the familiar tone of command was in his voice again. He pulled the sweatshirt over your head and you noticed that it was covered in the smell of his cologne. He tapped the outer side of your thigh and motioned for you to move. “Get comfortable, we still have an hour to go. You need to get some rest, I have work for you to do on Kashyyyk.”

You sleepily nod and sit sideways across his lap, legs dangling over the side with your face in his neck. Your eyes flutter shut and you feel his arms wrap around you.

Cal was feeling content for the first time in a very long time. He felt you beginning to trust him and that was going to be important not only for your relationship but in your work position. He finally rested his head against yours and the two of you drift off with the comfort of the other soothing you to sleep.

#cal kestis #inquisitor!cal #inquisitor cal #calquisitor #cal kestis x reader #jedi fallen order #star wars #part 4 #smut #thigh riding

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emeto-omo · 5 years ago

Note

I saw your post about McHanzo prompts, so I was wondering if you might be willing to write something where Hanzo takes Mcree out to eat. Mcree’s stomach feels a little funny, but he doesn’t say anything because he doesn’t want to ruin anything, and food actually seems to help, so he winds up eating a lot, but then his stomach actually winds up extremely sick, and Hanzo has to rub it to help him burp and throw up and he’s just miserable the rest of the night because his stomach is so upset.

((Sorry it took so long, anon! I’ll also be adding this to my Ao3 too! https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmetoOmo/works ))Title: Dinner and a Tummy RubCharacters: Hanzo Shimada, Jesse McCreeSummary: It’s their anniversary, and Hanzo has made a reservation at a local hibachi restaurant. McCree, not feeling well, buries it all to enjoy a wonderful anniversary dinner with his boyfriend.

----Hanzo Shimada was not one for anniversaries. Outside of his annual visit to his brother’s shrine, he really didn’t care much to observe any. Jesse McCree, however, lived for them and it was on that premise that Hanzo found himself downstairs watching the clock, waiting on McCree to get ready and praying they didn’t miss their reservation.

“Now I’m ready,” McCree said, coming down the stairs with a shit eating grin on his face. The cowboy looked…well…pretty much like he always looked. Maybe a bit cleaner, and not wearing his usual shoulder draping. Definitely a bit rough, however, for their formal dinner plans.

Hanzo stood in stark contrast to him in black slacks, a white pinstripe button up shirt, and a blue and dark grey vest. “You are wearing that?” Hanzo asked.

“What?” McCree asked, looking down at his clothes. “These are my lucky pants!”

“There are no less than three bullet holes in them. I would hardly call them lucky.” Hanzo sighed.

“I ain’t dead, am I?” McCree retorted, a winning grin on his lips.

Despite his usually stoic demeaner, Hanzo couldn’t help but to crack a half smirk. “Come then, before we are too late and they send us back home.”

“There’s always McDonalds…” McCree reminded him, following him out the door.

----

The car ride over had unsettled McCree’s stomach, turning what had been a mild gnawing in the pit of his tummy all day had become more of a slow churn. Truth be told, he’d been so excited that Hanzo had made reservations, he’d avoided food just to be sure he would have room for dinner. Certainly some food would settle it some, right?

Hanzo wasn’t entirely into the Hibachi scene, a little too much show for his taste, but he knew that McCree got a big kick out of the theatrics. Though he had called it formal, it was truly Hanzo that was overdressed for the venue. A quiet table in the corner had been reserved for them…even after the manager had explain painstakingly that they didn’t do reservations for parties of two. It was nothing a little money couldn’t fix.

“Ya really went all out, Han,” McCree smirked, taking a seat and sitting his cowboy hat in the empty seat to the other side of him.

Hanzo sat and rolled his sleeves up to the elbows. “That is what you keep telling me anniversaries are for.” He said, a bit of mirth in his tone.

McCree took in his lover’s appearance, the way a few women across the room kept shooting flirty glances in his direction, giggling to each other. McCree chuckled, making Hanzo look up at him, clueless he was being eyeballed. “What?”

“Rollin up yer sleeves like that, yer givin’ off serious Daddy vibes.” McCree joked, barely able to say it with a straight face. He knew exactly how ridiculous he sounded, and it was all worth it to see the look on Hanzo’s face.

“Daddy…vibes?” He asked confused, a slight cant to his head.

“Yeah, ya know? Daddy vibes. Them…uh…Kristen Grey feels from that Grey movie.” McCree said, watching Hanzo die inside as he butchered that.

“…Christian Grey?”

“Ah! So ya do watch those movies!” McCree said victorious. He had come down stairs one night a few months back and caught Hanzo on the couch watching 50 Shades of Grey, the archer insisting that he had simple had indigestion and was merely dozing where he sat up…McCree was fairly sure he’d been pretty intent in watching it.

“You can spend this anniversary alone, I can go back home,” Hanzo said, crossing his arms, pink creeping across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

McCree only smiled all the more. “Na, it’s alright, I won’t dog on yer terrible movie taste. Ya watch my spaghetti westerns without complainin’,” he chuckled, the fun mood making him forget about the turmoil in his tummy.

Hanzo settled into a comfortable, faux broody silence, thankful when the chef came to their table to start the show. There had been no expense spared, and before they knew it, they were given a veritable smorgasbord of food before them. Not just the fried seafood, veggies, and steak from the hibachi, but an array of sushi, some Udon, and some of the most potent sake bombs.

It was truly enough for six people, but once they got started, they would slowly work through it. McCree found himself feeling better yet the more he ate, glad it was likely just the hunger that had upset his stomach before. Three sake bombs later, he couldn’t remember that it had bothered him at all. Hanzo had only taken one, knowing he needed to drive, but was happy to get more for his lover while they enjoyed their anniversary.

“Wanna feed me?” McCree asked, cheeks flushed from the alcohol, a flirty smirk on his lips as he pushed the last plate toward Hanzo.

“I think you are likely full enough,” Hanzo found himself smiling, amused.

“I am,” McCree said, rubbing his tummy, feeling it gurgle lightly beneath his fingers. “Ain’t that what you like?”

That blush returned on the archer’s cheeks, and he looked around to see if anyone had overheard. “Here? In the restaurant?”

“Where else?”

Hanzo sucked in a breath between his teeth, readjusting how he sat as he felt himself flush with heat. He grabbed his chopsticks and began to feed the rest of it to McCree, being generous enough to let him stop to get some water to help wash it all down. McCree met Hanzo’s dark eyes as he took the shrimp, steak, veggies, whatever Hanzo would bring to his lips. “I’m so full.”

“Just a little more,” Hanzo whispered, a tenderness to his tone. “You know you have to make it home. There isn’t enough room in their restrooms here for—”

“I know, I can do it,” McCree smirked at him.

Hanzo smiled, handing him the remainder of his own Udon bowl, and instructed him to finish it off while he headed to pay the check. McCree took it in hand and began to finish it, chewing meticulously slow to make sure he could get it down.

While he waited for change, Hanzo glanced back at the table just in time to see McCree’s shoulders lurch some, a gag coming up unexpectedly as he quickly recovered. Hanzo’s heart fluttered in his chest, warm and tingling all over. He needed to get him home.

---

“Han…” McCree whined as they pulled into the driveway, the car jerking some as it pulled in.

“You made it this far,” Hanzo said tenderly, already unbuckling both of their seatbelts once he put the car in park. McCree hiccupped softly, sucking in a quick breath of air as the pressure of the belt was released from his stomach, a weak belch coming up without warning.

The archer came around to his side to help him get his door open. McCree’s mouth was watering some, and for several moments, he sat with his head between his knees hanging just over the payment while he still remained in the seat, waiting and willing the vomit to come up. “Not yet.” Hanzo whispered in his ear.

McCree whined softly but took his lover’s hand letting him help him to his feet, and ultimately back within the house. He breathed swallowed thickly as they got across the threshold, his stomach audibly gurgling, painful in its bloating. “I feel so sick.”

“I am surprised. It was a lot, but not the most we’ve done,” Hanzo said softly, crouching to help McCree out of his boots.

“I was…feelin’ sick before we left,” McCree admitted, trying to force a burp, but aborting it once it put up too much of a resistance.

Hanzo looked up. “We could have stayed home.”

McCree gave him a true, albeit miserable smiled, reaching down to release Hanzo’s hair from the bun it was in. “And miss seein’ ya flush knowin’ how sick I feel now? Nah.”

Hanzo could only smile, and reached up to unbuckle McCree’s belt, helping him out of his pants there in the entryway still. As the cowboy stepped out of his pants, Hanzo reached up to run his hand over the swell of McCree’s stomach. Rrrrruuuuuuuuurrrrrhrrrggggllllll.. his stomach audibly whined, the bubbles streaming beneath the flesh under his touch.

“God…” McCree moaned miserably, putting his hat on the hook and moving to unbutton his shirt. He just wanted free of it all, the nausea causing anxiety to climb.

“Shhh, I am here,” Hanzo whispered, kissing his tummy lightly, and standing once more, moved to help McCree over onto the couch.

“Shouldn’t…we go to the bathroom?” McCree worried, not arguing however as Hanzo helped him setting down into the soft cushions.

“I will get the trash can. No reason for you to be more uncomfortable than need be.”

McCree settled back, closing his eyes with a groan. His poor tummy felt like it was a ship adrift on the open seas, roiling to the whims of a summer storm. Just the idea of rough waters made McCree’s mouth water again, and he pressed the back of his hand against his lips, trying to hold back the flood til Hanzo returned.

It was barely a minute when he returned with a small, plastic trash can lined with a plastic shopping sack from the last time they grabbed groceries. Immediately McCree pitched forward to spit the bitterness from his lips, shuddering and giving a weak gag at the stringiness of it.

Hanzo sat and rubbed his back. “Relax. You can let it up.” He said gently, grabbing the remote to turn on one of McCree’s westerns for background noise.

Several minutes passed, filled with groaning and whining from his stomach, the bloating so painful it was almost unbearable. He squirmed uncomfortably, liquid sloshing audibly with every move, but no matter how much he willed and spit, and tried to strain a belch…nothing came up. He had broken out in a cold sweat now, and Hanzo could only watch on with a frown.

“Do you want me to rub it?” He asked softly, still in that scion-esque formal outfit. His only concern was for McCree, not worried about putting wrinkles into his expensive clothes.

McCree nodded pitifully. “Please…” he begged.

Hanzo’s hand rested firm on his stomach, just adding to McCree’s discomfort, even as he began to rub in slow circles. Once he found the bubbles, he chased them, trying to rub them away only to force a loud, wet and gurgling belch from McCree’s lips. “Mm, god..” he groaned miserably.

“Better?” Hanzo asked.

“K-keep going.”

Hanzo pressed a little harder, eliciting another longer belch from McCree, ending with a definite wetness as he spat brown bile into the trash can. He could feel it in his throat, growing like a pressure geyser, and opened his mouth. He let the drool pool and spill from his lips in a long string, his eyes watering some as he felt it burn on the back of his tongue. God, why wouldn’t it just come out?

He let his hand fall wet upon Hanzo’s and pressed in and up hard, instantly making a choking sound as he pitched forward and expelling a small gush of vomit into the trash. “There you go, let it happen.” Hanzo said comfortingly, taking upon himself to press again, forcing up a large air pocket as a burp, only for it to end in a more forceful wave of puke.

McCree was shaking now as his body took the hint, barely giving him a moment for breath before he gagged hard enough it sprayed out of mouth and nose both, and forcing viscous chunks of udon noodles and veggies to spray over the lip of the trash can and onto his lap and the floor. His veins in his neck strained as he gurgled another bunch of tangled noodles up, causing him to choke mid gag, and expel them further onto the coffee table.

Hanzo didn’t make any comment on it, just rubbing McCree’s back with one hand while the other rubbed his stomach. “I’m so sick…” McCree whispered, getting a break finally to catch his breath.

“Not feeling any relief?” Hanzo asked him, kissing his temple. “You feel warm.”

“I feel worse…if…urk….hurrrrrrrrrkkkkk.” He dry heaved loudly, gripping the trash can again. Another painful dry heave tore through on the tail of that one, and he spat a little blood in the trash from the strain.

“Bathroom. Perhaps a better angle will help,” Hanzo whispered, getting up and helping him carry the trash can. They were in for a long night.

-Fin

#mchanzo #sickfic #emeto #jesse mccree #hanzo shimada #overwatch #my writing #fanfic #vomiting

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pocket-luv101 · 5 years ago

Text

Dramatic Blond || Part 2

Fandom: Servamp Ships: LawLicht (main), KuroMahi (side) Characters: Hyde, Licht, Kuro, Mahiru, Lily

Summary: Hyde enrolls in Juilliard to win back his ex. But then he meets Licht who helps him discover a new dream. He will become a famous actor and show his ex that he’s someone serious. (Legally Blonde AU)

Part 1 || (Part 2) || Part 3 || Part 4

“I thought you were going to help me practise my improv, Angel Cakes. You’re paying more attention to Dr. Jekyll. He’s cute and all but I asked you to come over to help me with my improv class. You can pet him and read lines from a hat at the same time.” Hyde waved the upside-down hat in front of Licht. When he didn’t respond, he tapped the hat against his nose.

Licht swiped the hat from him and used it to lightly hit him as retaliation. Slips of papers flew into the air between them and Hyde waved them away. He picked one of the papers from blond hair and unfolded it. “Scenario: You are a demon who patrols the underworld. One day, you see an angel on the other side of the gate. What is the first thing you say to this angel?”

“I don’t remember writing that as a prompt.” Hyde took the paper from him and found that it said something different. He chuckled and said: “Of course, you would make something up with angels and demons, Lichtan. Can’t you take this seriously and read the lines like I asked you to?”

“You asked me to help you with improv and that’s what I’m doing. These prompts are from your textbook so you already thought of lines in response while you wrote them down. This is the best way to help you create a scene on the spot.” Licht told him. His reasoning made sense to Hyde so he nodded. “The angel tells you that he intends to break down the gate. How do you respond, Demon?”

“With a declaration of peace and love.” He cupped his hands around Licht’s. “Sweet angel, there’s no need to be so violent. Give us a chance before you decide we’re all evil demons. I will open the gate for you and show you the Demon Realm. We’ll go wherever your heart desires. Maybe you’ll discover that we’re not so different and decide to stay with us.”

“Demons took the love of my life. I cannot forgive them for their crimes against angels.” Licht said to change the direction of the improv skit. Even if he was merely practising his acting, he felt flustered by his light flirting. Hyde was attractive and he could easily picture him on a large stage. More than his looks, he was talented. His eyes appeared sincere and his smooth voice was almost able to trick him.

“Your angel left you for a demon? Then there’s only one thing we can do, Angel Cakes. Let’s date and make your ex jealous! So, what do you say?” He asked but Licht’s response was to hit him with a pillow. Hyde managed to catch the pillow and tossed it back to him. He chuckled and gathered the loose papers. “I guess I went too far. Let’s pick another scenario.”

“Give me a second to think of one you can’t turn into a cheesy rom-com. Do you have any suggestions, Jekyll? Squeak, squeak.” He spoke with the hedgehog as if it could understand him. Their interaction made him chuckle. He could almost believe that the two were having a conversation. He was certain that there wasn’t anyone else like Licht though.

His hedgehog hopped off his lap and scurried into an opened closet. Licht stood and followed the small animal. He guessed that it wanted to explore its new home and it was drawn to dark places. He pulled a cardboard box out of the closet so he could find Jekyll. As he set the box aside, he noticed a colourful scrapbook inside. He didn’t think Hyde would own something so childish.

Hyde noticed him staring at the scrapbook and he took it out of the box. He sat next to Licht and opened it on his lap. “I made this when I was a kid. My baby brother must’ve put it in here when we were packing. Lily is pretty sentimental. It’s a scrapbook of my dreams. My drawings haven’t improved since I made this so it would be impossible for me to get into Juilliard on my art skills.”

“Your drawings aren’t the best but these dreams are interesting. Is this a farm of hedgehogs?” Licht found Dr. Jekyll and petted him fondly.

“A petting zoo, actually. I planned to only have hedgehogs in my zoo. They’re the cutest animal in the world so you don’t need anything else.” He told him but he was a little embarrassed of his six year old self. Licht didn’t laugh at his silly dream though. He pointed to the next picture and Hyde told him, “That’s me building a fortress on the moon. I also want to find a talking whale and befriend him.”

They continued to go through the scrapbook together. He flipped to the next page where there was a stage drawn in crayon. “I forgot about this one. I wanted to star in a production of Hamlet with my friend, Ophelia. We planned to rewrite the play and have Ophelia actually team up with Hamlet. They would pull an elaborate prank on the Uncle. The ghost dad helps them too.”

“You read a Shakespearean tragedy like Hamlet when you were a kid? I can barely understand those plays at this age.” Licht didn’t know if he should be impressed or question how a child discovered the play. “You know a lot of quotes from Shakespeare’s plays. Did you practice them with Ophelia like what we’re doing right now?”

“She joined the drama club in high school and I would help practice her lines. Ayato didn’t like me hanging out with her though. I tried to tell him that Ophelia and I were just friends but he was pretty possessive. Ophelia and I eventually stopped talking and we drifted apart.” He shrugged but Hyde now regretted losing that friendship.

“Isn’t that a big, red flag?” Licht understood that it was difficult for the person in the relationship to see those flags in the moment. His mother dated demons because she thought they were fallen angels. She was a hopeless romantic and believed she could fix them. They broke her heart more often than not. It taught him that demons won’t change until they want to improve themselves.

Hyde closed the book. “My new dream is for Ayato to see me on that stage and regret dumping me.”

“Why is your new dream still centered around your ex when you have this scrapbook of better goals?” Licht leafed through the pages. He thought that it was a shame he gave up on himself long ago. He didn’t know if he could say anything to dissuade him. “Greedy isn’t the worst thing to be, as long as you’re honest and work hard to get what you truly want.”

Hyde’s phone buzzed and he checked the email. “They just posted the audition dates and requirements. It looks like we have to cancel our study session next week. I have to pick a monologue and memorize the short scene they sent me. This is going to take up my weekend and I probably won’t get a big part.”

“Only if you act half heartedly. Print out that script and I’ll read through it with you.”

Mahiru hummed softly as he polished a trumpet. He considered himself lucky to have a music shop close to Juilliard but it kept him very busy. At least he managed to find free time that day. He was expecting a visit from Hyde and Licht since they agreed to have lunch together. He loved both cooking and music. Mahiru offered to cook for them and they were out buying groceries.

The door chime rang, signalling that someone had entered his store and he looked up. It wasn’t Hyde or Licht though. Mahiru didn’t recognize the man. Due to his blue hair, he assumed he was also attending Juilliard. He put on a professional smile and greeted the man. “Welcome. Is there anything you’re looking for? I would be happy to help you.”

“Are you Mahiru?” The question made him pause but he nodded. Mahiru didn’t know how the man knew his name before he gave it. Then, he said: “Hyde told me about you. I wanted to talk to you about him.”

“You must be Ayato.” His brown eyes narrowed. Hyde had only told him about one other man in his life that went to Juilliard. He had to admit that he looked different than he imagined. The man was handsome but much older than Hyde. He appeared to be only a few years older than Mahiru. When he started to speak, Mahiru raised his hand.

“Let me stop you right now. Hyde told me about you, Ayato. It was wrong for you to string him along and I won’t let you do that again. Hyde is my friend. Whatever you want from me, my answer is no. So, please leave my store right now.” Mahiru gestured to the door but then he noticed Hyde’s car in the store window.

Mahiru tried to think of what to do as Hyde parked his car. He was worried that Hyde would cause a scene once he sees his ex-boyfriend again. Before he could, Hyde spotted them as well and waved happily to them. He walked inside and yelled: “Hi, Nii-san! You came earlier than I thought he would.”

“Nii-san?” Mahiru repeated in shock. He looked between the two and Kuro nodded. He couldn’t find a family resemblance between them. Yet, it was clear that the two were siblings by the way they interacted with each other. Hyde poked Kuro and then hugged him briefly. After he talked with Kuro, he faced Mahiru to introduce his brother.

“It looks like you already met my brother, Kuro. Is it okay if he joins us for lunch? I accidentally agreed to hang out with him today without realizing it��s the same day we were supposed to have lunch. Kuro doesn’t drive down to New York often.” Hyde explained. Mahiru felt guilty for his earlier assumption and readily nodded. “It looks like Licht needs help with the bags. You two talk while I help him.”

“Just put the bags on the counter. I’ll start cooking in a minute.” Mahiru waited for Licht and Hyde to leave until he apologized to Kuro. “I am so sorry I mistook you for Ayato. Hyde didn’t tell me he had a brother but it was still wrong of me to make assumptions. I was planning to cook ramen. Is there anything special you want in your bowl? It’ll be my way of apologizing.”

“Don’t worry. I know the family resemblance is hard to see.” He was glad to see that Kuro was understanding. “I’m happy that Hyde has a friend who would defend him. Honestly, I was concerned about him enrolling in Juilliard. It would be troublesome if he started dating Ayato again. He’s an adult but I still worry about him. Actually, I wanted to ask about him and Licht.”

“They’re close friends despite their differences.” It was clear to Mahiru that he cared for his family. He smiled up at Kuro and placed the trumpet in a case. “But they do need supervision or else they’ll find something to fight over. Go join them upstairs while I flip the open sign. You and your brother must have a lot of catching up to do.”

“I’m pretty sure Hyde has a lot more to tell me than the reverse. I don’t get the chance to meet interesting people often. Well, today might be an exception.” He said before he walked away. Mahiru could feel himself blushing as he watched Kuro leave. He didn’t know if he was flirting with him but his subtle smile was rather charming.

Hyde stayed behind while his brother walked up the stairs. He looked between the two and a knowing smile spread across his face. After Mahiru locked the shop door and flipped the open sign, he approached him. In a teasing voice, Hyde said: “What do you think of my brother? He seems to like you. It’s rare that he’s taken with someone so quickly. You should have another lunch with just him.”

“Kuro seems like a good guy but I don’t know if I’m ready for a relationship.” He told him. “Anyways, I’m busy with my music shop. I don’t know if I have a lot to offer him in a relationship.”

“Don’t say that, Mahiru.” Hyde clapped his hand on his back. While he and Licht were neighbours, he doubted they would’ve become so close without Mahiru’s advice. He thought he could repay the favour. “We’ve known each other for a few months now but I rarely see you go out. Close the shop on a Sunday and go on a date with Kuro.”

“I doubt he’ll ask me out.” Mahiru shook his head.

“Let me show you a trick! It’s called the ‘bend and snap’. When you want to catch a guy’s attention, pretend to drop something. You bend down, wait a few seconds and then stand up like so. It shows off your ass and he won’t be able to take his eyes off you. Now, follow me.” He dropped a pen on the ground. Hyde bent down but then he heard a loud clatter behind him.

He looked back and saw that Licht was struggling with a drum set. He must’ve accidentally walked into the instrument. Hyde went to help him and straightened the drums. He laughed and asked him, “Are you okay, Lichtan? You’re not the clumsy type who walks into things.”

“It was nothing!” He insisted with a blush. He hoped Hyde wouldn’t be able to see how flustered he was. Licht didn’t know how Hyde would react if he told him that he distracted him and made him walk into the drum set. He couldn’t meet his red eyes so he turned to Mahiru. He changed the subject and said, “I came down to ask if you want any help cutting the vegetables.”

“That would be great.” Mahiru smiled at his friend. “I’ll have lunch ready in twenty minutes.”

“I’ve never been to a musical before. It was more fun than I thought it would be but it’s a little too flashy for my tastes.” Licht told him as they walked out of a small, local theater. The sunlight made him wince after sitting in the dark for an hour. A shadow fell over him when Hyde held a textbook over his head. He grinned down at him and lightly tapped the book against his hair.

“Lighting and other technical things are the unsung heroes of a production. They enhance the actor’s performance. I guess you wouldn’t feel the same since you want to be a concert pianist. You’re the type who prefers working alone too.” Hyde said and replaced his textbook in his bag. “I picked the musical so what do you want to do next?”

“I need to stretch my legs after sitting for so long. Let’s walk through the plaza and look around.” Licht suggested but he was already walking forward. They fell into step next to each other and discussed the musical. He was rarely about to pull himself away from his piano but going to the theater was a fun change of pace. Hyde’s company made it better than he would admit.

Licht left his class and his attention was drawn to a crowd across the courtyard. He was curious about what had their attention. “What’s so interesting about this wall?”

“Our professor must’ve just put up the audition result.” He took his hand and pulled him towards the crowd. Hyde thought that it was best to wait for the crowd to thin before he checked the list. He did his best at the audition but he doubted he got a large part. “Will you come watch me even if I’m just an extra on stage?”

“Did you see what part you got already?” Licht stood on his toes in a vain attempt to see past everyone to the audition result sheet. The text was too small for him to see at a distant. In the corner of his eyes, he noticed Hyde shake his head. “Then why would you say you’re an extra? You’re hopeless, Shit Rat. I’m interested in seeing that play though. What is it?”

“Romeo and Juliet. I like that play but I was hoping that they would put on one of his lesser known plays. Maybe a comedy like…” Hyde trailed off. Licht noticed his gaze appear far away and he turned around to see what caught his attention. A man approached them but he didn’t recognize who he was. He saw how Hyde stiffened. “Oh, Ayato. I don’t see you around campus often.”

“I switched programs a week ago.” Ayato told him. Licht found himself stepping in front of Hyde slightly. He didn’t know why he felt protective of him.

“You switched majors in the middle of the semester?” Licht didn’t hide how doubtful he was.

“His parents are influential people in the music industry and they’re almost as wealthy as my family. Almost.” Hyde whispered into his ear. Licht rolled his eyes at Ayato and it was clear that he was far from impressed by the man. “I didn’t see you at the audition. What part did you try out for?”

“My fiancé and I auditioned to be Romeo and Juliet.” He answered. The short answer echoed in Hyde’s mind and he felt himself froze. Fiancé? They dated for nearly seven years yet Ayato proposed to someone else shortly after their break up. A few months ago, the news would’ve devastated him. Hyde neither felt sad nor upset now.

“Shit Rat, who’s Tybalt?” Licht interrupted them. He faced them and tapped his knuckles on the piece of paper. “You’re playing him and not an extra. I don’t remember much from high school English class but I think he’s important.”

“I got the part?” Hyde knew Licht wasn’t the type to lie but he was still in disbelief. He skimmed his finger over the names until he found his own. Next to his name was ‘Tybalt’ in black and white. He read it a few times and a smile slowly spread across his face. Suddenly, Hyde hugged Licht. He spun in a circle and his feet was lifted off the ground. “I got the part!”

“I know, Shit Rat. I was the one who pointed it out to you. Put me down before all this spinning makes me puke. I will throw up on you.” He warned. He felt dizzy when he placed him on his feet again. Licht wasn’t angry after he saw Hyde’s large grin. He had never seen him so happy or proud. That smile had a charm that made his heart skip.

“I wouldn’t have been able to get the part without you, Lichtan. Thank you. I’ll take you out for dinner as a treat.” He took Licht’s hand and started to pull him away. He faced Ayato and said, “You’re playing Mercutio. I can’t wait for our big scene together.”

Hyde grinned at Ayato before he walked away with Licht.

#servamp #lawlicht #greed pair #kuromahi #sloth pair #servamp hyde #licht jekylland todoroki #servamp kuro #mahiru shirota #fanfiction

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radiant-flutterbun · 7 years ago

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Dragons For Hire

This works basically like a shipping list and sort of a rp starter! If any of these dragons provide a service that one of your dragons is looking for feel free to message me here or on FR!

Assassins

Need some murders? These dragons are REALLY good at murder

Nepenthe

She’s the Goddess of Revenge from another world, and came to Sornieth to search for her father and kill him. She grew up alone in a forest and had to learn how to survive on her own.

She’s not very good at conversation, but what she lacks in social skills are excellent tracking abilities and hunting skills. She could track down almost anyone on the planet using only a few leads. And she’s good at killing too and isn’t afraid to get bloody

Bloodmoon

Her family was murdered when she was young, and she suffered from a bad concussion that gave her amnesia for a lot of her earliest memories. After her injury she was raised by a violent skydancer who taught her all sorts of ways to kill. She was raised to believe killing was a way of life, and she began to enjoy it a bit too much.

She’s not as stealthy as Nepenthe, and she’s not a good tracker, but she’s really useful if you know where your victim is, because once Bloodmoon know where her prey is, there’s no stopping her.

Dracula

He’s a vampire and would do anything for blood.

He’s an unusually tiny nocturne and it’s easy for him to sneak into places. However since he cannot enter direct daylight he ca only travel during night, so progress may be slow. (there’s also the chance he may just settle for who’s blood is easiest to get)

Shade Chasers

They’re specialized assassins that hunt down any Shade creature. So if you’re having any Shade problems, these are the dragons to call.

Tiberius

He was once a fae and his mother was obsessed with the Shade. She experimented Shade energy on her own children. Tiberius was lucky enough to run away before she could infect him. He enrolled in the Plague Academy of Shade Chasers(PASC) and saved up enough money for a breed change to give him a better advantage in the boot camp.

Tiberius is one of the most skilled Shade Chasers that PASC has to offer. He is in the top class known as the Irradiated Mages. He has been infused with powerful Arcane magic to destroy the Shade with. Only a handful of dragons survive to become one of the Mages.

Evarado

He was always violent, so he decided to use that violence to destroy the Shade. He isn’t friendly company, but he’s an effective Shade Killer, a melee class in PASC. His many skills include blood magic, strength, high pain tolerance, and skills with many weapons.

Renek

Her background in botany as made her skilled with poisons of all kinds, and she’s discovered a few that have an affect on the Shade. She’s not good at directly fighting Shade creatures. She isn’t very strong, nor does she have powerful magic, but she is sneaky and quick on her feet. She’s the best at investigating Shade activity, but not destroying Shade creatures.

Monachopsis

He was born with a ‘blessing’ from the Plaguebringer. From his scales ooze acid. It is painful, but he has grown used to the pain. What’s worse to him is that he cannot touch anyone without hurting them.

But his acid has some use. It makes him immune to the Shade and he’s able to burn it away. He is part of the melee class of PASC, the Shade Killers.

Artists

Dragons to commission any art of your dreams.

Flare

A very talented and experienced artist. She’s an expert in several different mediums including many different paints, like oil and water color, and she can make both wooden and stone sculptures. She can be hired as an art teacher or commissioned.

The only downfall of hiring her is her curse that makes her burst into flames at random times. She needs to have a water source around her at all times and it’s recommended she stay away from flammable materials.

Soul

If you need someone to sing or write songs, then Soul is your dragon! He has a way with words and an incredible singing voice. He can play a few stringed instruments as well.

He’s also a mechanic so he can be hired for that as well.

Frankenstein

She’s a beginner artist but has gotten really good at water color and oil pastel. She started painting as an art therapy as she tried to find meaning to her strange existence. She’s literally the corpse of a few different dragons stitched together and given sentience, so that was a bit of a complicated issue to sort out to put lightly.

but hey now she’s a walking corpse that paints so that’s pretty cool!

Muerto

He’s a beginner artist and like Frankenstein, he also became an artist from art therapy! He’s not the best artist, but he’s young and is still learning. He’s getting better everyday and he’s proud of himself for it. Also did I mention he’s a literal child and it would make his day if someone commissioned him?

Please commission the child

Healers

Hecate

She’s the best healer of Ton Theon. She can quickly close up wounds within seconds and repair all internal damage with her magic. However, she learned the hard way that her magic is not limitless. It takes a lot out of her to use her magic to heal, and she often needs to eat and sleep to recover. If she uses too much of her magic at once she can not only drain her body of energy, but actually use up all of her magic and she would be forced to go back to her Source Magic.

The magic that Hecate uses is not her own, but is powered by a legendary Pear that was once owned by an infamous Pearlcatcher known as Cassiopeia. That story is a long one, but she has to return to the deadly territory that Pearl is found in in order to regain her magic if she is drained of it.

Alaria

She’s another healer of Ton Theon. She’s not as good a healer as Hecate, but to be fair Hecate is only as good as she is by stealing magic that’s not her own. Alaria doesn’t heal with magic, but instead that good old fashioned way with bandages and herbs.

Alaria grows her own herbs and knows everything there is to know about medicinal plants.

Alaria is also a mechanic and uses these skills to give some of her patients prosthetic limbs, and in one case, a new nervous system.

Bacitracin

He’s the God of Healing from another world. He’s only visiting Sornieth for a short time, but he has knowledge of all things medicine. Unfortunately he cannot use his healing magic here on Sornieth, as magic works differently in this world than in his own, but he can still pass on his knowledge of medicine to anyone who needs it, and he’s particularly knowledgeable in mental health, unlike Hecate and Alaria.

Archaeologists

June

June is a particularly bold Archaeologist who had been studying the Light Ruins since she was a hatchling. She became particularly fascinated in the Hewn City and dedicated her life to research in it.

Sadly she uncovered some nasty Shade activity in the city, and became Shade-Touched. She ended up being trapped in the city for almost a year with no recollection of it, and lost her mate and granddaughter who were studying the city with her to Shade infections.

Still, even though she knows how dangerous the City is, she wants to go back and further her research.

Night

Night has always been a jack or all trades. They’ve been a philosopher, an artist, a creative writer, a journalist, and a astronomer. Recently they’ve been dabbling in archaeology. They’ve been studying the civilizations of the beings of the Third Agem which eventually led them to the Hewn City. They almost died there from Shade Activity and an Emperor attack, but they survived and the experience only peaked their curiosity even more.

Cooks

Firespitter

He can make some mean soup. He’s so good at soup. He’s also pretty good at making stew, and pretty much anything with meat in it. He’s always cooking something and he loves trying new things.

Sometimes he also gets hit with random prophecies or visions so that’s just a bonus to him being your chef.

Bonita

Bonita is a bit better with cooking the veggie dishes, even if she herself hates them all her tundra customers say it’s really good.

She’s a bit loud when she cooks and likes to sing badly as she does so, so if you can put up with her horrible singing she’s the chef for you!

Kissa

Kissa is best at baking all sorts of sweets. From cookies to cakes to pies, she can do it all and she loves doing it. She often can’t stop baking she loves it so much.

So help her out and either hire her or buy some of her cookies!

Necromancers

Peripeteia

Peri is a necromancer. There’s not really much else to say about it. She was born into this life and she didn’t have the choice to become a necromancer. It wouldn’t be all that bad if it didn’t also come with a curse that makes her slowly rot away.

Luckily there is a way to reverse the rot, but she has to steal from the living in order to do so. Don’t worry, she’s a nice necromancer and would never want to harm another dragon, but she’d happily raise some zombies for you if the price is right.

Scutum

Scutum learned necromancy as a hatchling, much to the horror of his birthclan. He ended up using his power to attempt to raise and Emperor and use it to attack the Lightweaver. The plan failed, and the Lightweaver banished him from her land. Now he lives on a little island in the Starfall Isles called Nihil and he raises the dead to amuse his Queen.

But he wants to do more with his gift. Necromancy has so much potential. Hire him and maybe you’ll find out.

Animal Tamers

Elymas

Elymas thinks snakes are pretty cool, so he’s developed a bond with a few and has learned a lot about snake behavior. If you ever need someone to tame some snakes, or remove them, then Ely is your guy.

He’s also pretty good at training horses, but I don’t think there are any horses on Sornieth and I doubt a dragon would need a horse.

Arkina

Arkina is a huge animal lover. She loves animals so much that she has dedicated her life to reaping animal souls. For the wild animals she reincarnates them, but for the animals who had been beloved pets, she keeps the souls safe for when the owner dies.

She’s good with any kind of animal.

Farmers/Gardeners

Zeamays

Zeamays loves corn. He’s really good at growing corn. His corn is really good. He’s also great at growing other crops. Pretty much any crop you can imagine he can probably grow and it’ll be really good too. But corn is his favorite to grow.

Amara

Amara doesn’t grow food, but she is a really good gardener! She’s good at growing house plants and flowers. She knows the perfect temperature to grow her plants, and what sort of soil is best for them. She can also recommend insects to help a garden flourish.

Elysian

Elysian is good at growing food like Zeamays. Unlike him she uses magic to grow it, so if you want a good, quick crop she can be hired, but afterward you may not be able to replant anything as her magic tends to suck all the nutrients from the soil.

Historians

Lakra

Lakra is Ton Theon’s oldest librarian and he knows just about every book written and released to the public in the Sunbeam Ruins. He knows the history of Light through and through, even some parts that the Lightweaver herself is ashamed of. He used to keep the knowledge of Emperors a well hidden secret, but since his clan came face to face with one of the undead beasts he realized just how dangerous concealing knowledge can be.

Masika

Masika is Lakra’s mate and his assistant at the library. She knows almost as much as him, but she’s never been the best at memorization. She also tends to be a nervous wreck and it’s easy to spook her. Still, she tries her best and could be helpful with recommending books especially if they deal with the Sunbeam Ruins.

Designers

Virtuous

She’s a busy woman who doesn’t leave much Time for herself (ironic considering she’s the Goddess of Time), but in her free time she enjoys knitting, weaving and sewing. She’s be happy to make anything from stuffed toys to clothing. It’s a good distraction from the demon that’s been hunting her for billions of years.

Nullity

Much like her grandmother, Virtuous, Nullity as found a love with clothing. She’s really good at designing new dresses and making new outfits. She also have an eye for everything make up and hair style. She could give you a makeover, or just give you a few tips on fashion.

Thieves

Juno

Juno is the captain of the Foo’s Eye pirates. She’ll do anything for money. She’ll steal, or murder or anything else shady as long as she’s being paid.

Spa

Lavender

Lavender is the owner of the Ember Sun Spa and Resort. He’s happy to let anyone visit his spa and resort.

#firefly flits #dragons for hire

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aion-rsa · 6 years ago

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Sina Grace On Joining Go Go Power Rangers

http://bit.ly/2UpAxFl

Sina Grace loves Power Rangers and can't wait to play in the universe of the character focused Go Go Power Rangers comic.

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Feature Shamus Kelley

power rangers

Apr 8, 2019

boom! studios

Sina Grace may seem new to Power Rangers, having just been announced as co-writer for the Go Go Power Rangers comic alongside Ryan Parrott, but he’s been with the franchise since the start of Boom’s run. He contributed a variant cover for the very first issue and even wrote/drew a short story, but now he gets to put his own mark on the Power Rangerse universe.

At Wondercon we spoke with him about what he wants to bring to Go Go, diversity in the series, and his history with the franchise including both Power Rangers and Super Sentai!

Tell me about your experience with Power Rangers just growing up or your past experiences with it.

I feel like this is very obvious, but it's worth saying every step of the way. I grew up being a huge fan of Mighty Morphin Power Rangers. I loved it so, so much as a kid and always, always held it close to my heart. When Boom got the license, I immediately wrote editor Dafna Pleban and was like, "Listen, I need to do something on this. I love Power Rangers and I just want to show my love."

read more: The Power Rangers Seasons You Never Saw

I did a variant cover for the very, very first issue, which is of Tommy and Kimberly holding each other romantically while an army of Putties comes at them and then the Dragon Megazord is fighting Goldar. That was how Power Rangers permeated my brain. Then, I did something for the 25th anniversary (the story Golden Ideas), which after it came out, I felt this little bit of regret that I had sort of played too safe. I love these characters so much and all I wanted to do was honor them.

When the opportunity came to help Ryan on Go Go Power Rangers, I was really excited because he's the architect, and he's steering both ships, Mighty Morphin and Go Go, but he's teaching me how to not be so delicate with the toys and how to have some fun. How to trust my instincts as someone who is a fan, but is also a storyteller and how to move these characters in a way that's meaningful and still a thousand percent true to the canon.

Tell me a little bit about that 25th anniversary story.

Last year the 25th anniversary came out, and Boom was kind enough to empower me to write and draw stories. So, at the time, I felt like fans and readers really hadn't seen much of Aisha and Adam. Even on the show, it was still kind of more about Rocky. It was a challenge for myself because I think I also never paid much attention to them as a kid. I really was excited to go and look at them and make them the main characters and take the themes of friendship and how these teams can become family for each other and really put that in the book and have them learn a really quick lesson. Then also do some cool fun stuff that maybe wasn't possible with the TV series in terms of like, oh, they can interact with Goldar and they can interact with monsters growing in a different way than we've seen previously.

It was just a way for me to kind of do everything I love and put it in eight pages and I was so lucky to have a nice healthy deadline with it, too. I really just got to go and give everything when I drew Goldar and just really get into his armor. I still have all of my toys from being a kid, so I was actually photographing my Goldar toys and my Ranger toys to pose them just right. It was great because the approval’s process was the fastest I've ever gone through in my entire career because it's like, "Yeah, I'm 1000% on model."

read more: Power Rangers: The Unproduced Episodes

That story felt like an homage, whether intentional or not, to the old comics and how they were very simple one-and-done stories.

I do remember those older comics, and they were very classic one-and-done and safe. Yeah, it was meant to have that pastiche vibe.

Obviously, you can't tell us too much about what's going to happen in Go Go but what are things that as a fan that you're excited about writing?

I love what Ryan did on Go Go to date and it's so crazy because I remembered picking up ... I think it was the third issue at a comic store, and I was like "What? Dan Mora is drawing Power Rangers? What is this?" I was just like "Holy crap, this book is amazing." I think that's what's exciting. I don't feel like this was done or explored as much in Mighty Morphin because that one, the scope, is so big and so epic. I think Go Go is a lot more grounded.

So, what I'm really excited about is continuing on with what Ryan did in terms of really making these teenagers today who are still the characters we know and love. There was a throwaway line Zack said in either the first or second arc where he's like, "How come I have 147 followers on Instagram, but the Black Ranger fan account has 11,000?" Stuff like that where I'm not going to bog the reader down with those kinds of subplots, but those moments, I think, are going to make Go Go its special thing. Even if you haven't watched the show in decades now? You should still pick this book up because it's so much fun and the action is so great.

read more: Power Rangers: Ranking all 25 Seasons

I'm excited to actually play with the characters and get in their brains. I also love his take on Kim and how she's a lot tougher than we've seen her in the show. I love exploring her family and really getting to go in there with that. Even just the stuff I've done so far based on Ryan's outlines have already been the best. Honestly, I was kind of afraid to play with the Jason/Trini dynamic but after Ryan broke it down for me? I love them. I love what their relationship has become in this book, and theirs has been a relationship I really have enjoyed writing and exploring and building upon.

Going back to your history with the show,and this is not "Oh, how deep of a fan are you", but have you watched all the seasons? Have you watched the Sentai? How deep does your love go?

It's always best to answer with honesty. I was a hardcore devote and then sort of trailed off around and after Turbo. I had a friend who really, really kept up with it, and he would tell me all the characters and the dynamics and I did lose track. I did spend a summer, a really warm summer, just camped out in my living room next to the AC unit watching (Zyuranger) with york peppermint patties straight out of the fridge and white wine; lovely way to spend a warm summer, and I super loved that. I actually ended up watching the two or three seasons after because I really wanted to see what the Ranger iteration of the Thunder Megazord footage, where that came from, and I wanted to see what that was about. (Dairanger’s) a trippy season.

read more: Power Rangers and How It Was Adapted From Super Sentai

I think I'm going to dive in and play a lot of catch up because Time Force super intrigued me, especially because some of the other books I'm doing in comics are time travel-related. But yeah, no, I'll be honest. I feel like I do what I have done with a lot of things and I'll just keep re-watching the seasons I'm familiar with over and over again. I do want to spend the spring and summer watching a bunch of the recommended seasons.

Obviously Power Rangers is very known for its diversity throughout the run and even up to the new movie where they had Trini be a lesbian or however she was identified. Do you plan to add more diversity to the comic or highlight different aspects of diversity within it?

Like I said, I am super, super, super Ryan's co-captain on this. It's Ryan ship and all I want to do is make these characters as three-dimensional and human as possible. I think with the cast makeup as it is, that's bound to happen and I'm certainly not going to shy away from it. At the end of the day it just boils down to what fits with Ryan's plans, but yeah, it's like look at the cast. That's obviously going to come into play.

Shamus Kelley is a pop culture/television writer and official Power Rangers expert. Follow him on Twitter! Read more articles by him here!

from Books http://bit.ly/2G0y0ra

#aion-rsa #Books

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nachtgraves · 8 years ago

Note

a++ kuzuhina: maybe the same ship with #4.“I’m flirting with you.”?

Oh my god I am so sorry this took forever and a half BUT I FINALLY FINISHED IT. I experimented with writing a thing told mostly through texting so hopefully it still flows pretty well? It was an experience, I tell you. Also. I apologize for the awful title for this but it was literally the best I could think of. And I probably should have used time stamps but I’m a dumb and hope extra spacing gives the same effect?

Title: Mis-Texting Could Possibly End in Kissing // AO3Word Count: ~4200Warnings/Tags: PG. Told through texting with interspersed prose, high school au, hope’s peak still exists, but no despairs, some typos are intentional and let’s pretend the others are too, real minor angst. Hajime is non-italics, Fuyuhiko and the two instances of Chiaki are in italics.

[ughhhhhh][im so bored][she wont stop taking][talking*]

[That’s kind of the point of a presentation]

[nooneasked for ur sass]

Hajimedoesn’t know how it happened, but he and the infamous ‘baby-faced yakuza ofHope’s Peak High’ are texting buddies.

Well.

Maybethat’s not entirely true. He does know how it started, at least.

[heypres][its kuzuryuu][souda gave me ur number][wat do we need for teh fair agian?]

[Sorry, youmight have the wrong number]

[oh][ur not nanmi?][fuck][souda is dead][sorry]

[Noworries. Mistakes happen][But, by Souda do you mean Souda Kazuichi?And did you mean to text Nanami Chiaki?]

[yeah][who r u??]

[Chiaki’s a close friend. Ournumbers happen to be really similar. Hers ends in a 1 instead of a 2]

[ohthanks][srry for the mix up]

[Don’tworry about it. Happens fairly often :p]

Hajimedoesn’t hear back from the stranger for a few days and quickly forgets themix-up even happened. He hadn’t been lying when he said that such thingshappened fairly often, especially since Chiaki was voted as class rep. (She hadbeen so surprised and happy, Hajime thought a new VR game system was announced).Chiaki and him and found it quite amusing and it wasn’t much trouble to fix themistake usually. But one afternoon, he’s cleaning up his room and finds apacket of papers that look important by the large scrawling over the front pagein Chiaki’s loopy handwriting, reading: ‘SCHOOL FEST BUDGET’. He also knowsthat Chiaki wasn’t going to be home for hours, since her school festival wasthis coming weekend and she’s been staying back to organize, plan, and dowhatever it is class representatives do for events like that.

[Hey you left a packet of papers atmine. School fest budget?]

[Chiaki?]

[Goddmannit did u foget to chargeyour phone again?]

Knowingthat if the packet were important, Chiaki would be freaking out (she always putso much pressure on herself, especially since she became class rep), Hajimestares at the packet in his lap. He could run to Chiaki’s high school, butdoubts he would be let in since it was almost sundown and Hope’s Peak High wasone of the more prestigious secondary schools in their district. Hajime himselfgoes to a regular public school a short walk from their neighbourhood.

Staringat his phone, as if it was going to give him an answer, he finds one as hescrolls through his messages. He still has the short conversation from thestranger from Chiaki’s class. It’s worth a shot, at the very least.

[Hey this is Chiaki’s friend HinataHajime. I still had your number from when you mis-texted me and I was wonderingif Chiaki was nearby? She’s not answering her phone]

[yeah][why?]

[I think she forgot something at myhouse. School fest budget?]

[yeah][she thought she lost it][shes asking if u can drop it off at her place][her phone is dead]

[Yeah I cando that][Thanks]

Laterthat night, Hajime is attempting to complete a history essay due the nextmorning when he receives a text. His phone is plugged in by his bed, on theopposite end of where his desk is. He literally jumps at the distraction,hopping into bed and lying back against the pillows propped up against the headboard.

[Thanksfor dropping off the packet.]

[No prob][You need to remember to charge your phone]

[I know. (*_ _) ][How did you have Kuzuryuu’snumber, by the way?]

[The miss-text a few days ago.Figured it was worth a try]

[Thank you. You really saved me.]

Threehours later, it’s inching closer to midnight and Hajime hasn’t returned to hisassignment. Chiaki is not impressed.

[Doyour work.]

[I’m takinga break]

[(￢_￢) You’ve been ‘takinga break’ for three hours. Stop procrastinating and finish your homework.]

[You’re notdoing your homework]

[I finished my homework. I’m makingsure all the plans for the school fair next month are in order.

You’recoming to it, right?]

[Yeah][If I’m not stuck wiht tuorting…][Tutoring*][Can’t you help???]

[You know I’m not that much betterthan you. Sonia helps me.]

[Give me hernumber?][I’m desperate a tthis point]

[That’sa breach of privacy.]

[Chiakiiiiiiiiiii][Please?][I’ll do your Japanese hw next time?]

[No.]

[JapaneseAND math?]

[Tempting.But good night, Hajime.]

[Chiaki][Chiaki][Chiaki come back][Chiakiiiiii][What kind of friend are u?]

It’stimes like this Hajime sometimes wishes he was closer to some of hisclassmates. He’s not a loner, but he’s definitely a drifter of sorts. He has peopleto talk to and sit with at lunch, but rarely does he spend time with hisclassmates outside of school or for non-school related activities. Because ofthat, he’s not close enough to anyone to randomly message them at close tomidnight for homework help.

Justas he’s trying to figure out a solution – since it’s far too late to actually do his work like the goodstudent he only sometimes is, his phone goes off. And this, is the true startof everything.

[cmon i’ll pay u][and by pay i mean not break ur fucking teeth with my fist]

[Wrongperson?][Hopefully, at least]

[fuck][sorry][yeah][i meant to text the person above u in my message list thing]

[Everythingokay?]

[yeahjust some shitty hw]

[You too?][I have this awful history essay due tomorrow]

[historyis whatever][math is killing me]

[Math isn’ttoo bad][At least there’s always just one answer]

[historyand english u just bs tho]

[But it’sso subjective][Everything depends on something else]

[wannatrade then?]

Andthat is how Hajime found himself a homework buddy. Kuzuryuu is good at Englishand history, while Hajime’s strengths lie in math and science, and the both ofthem were pretty good at Japanese. One night of texting back and forth, helping(dipping into the realm of ‘academic dishonesty’ on occasion) with theirrespective assignments. They say goodnight close to dawn, but Kuzuryuu had stayedup long after his homework was complete and waited and helped Hajime until hewas done as well.

Fromthen on, Hajime would find himself texting back and forth with this boy he’snever met. At first, they exclusively went to the other for homework help, buteventually Hajime would send Kuzuryuu a short text about something funny that hadhappened (a cat attacking some dumb kids that were trying to taunt it) andKuzuryuu would send him a rant about something that annoyed him (old womenthinking that he’s younger than he is or a police officer asking if he’s losthis parents) and it snowballs into them casually texting throughout the day,particularly during boring presentations that no one, including the personpresenting, cared about.

[Payattention and stop distracting me]

[potnd kettle][stop looking at ur phone during class]

[Shush][I’m bored too]

[fuckinquit the holier than thou then][i can ignore u][nd u can be bored alone]

[Youwouldn’t do that][Who’d you distract if not me?]

[plentyof pple][ur lucky i deign to talk to u]

[Yeah][I’m sooo grateful]

[ushould be]

[Stilldoubt that you could ignore me]

[fuckintry me]

[Is that achallenge?]

Kuzuryuulasts all of until the end of the school day. Hajime can be quite theannoyance.

[jfc ur gonna break my phone]

[I win :D]

[uwin a fist to the face when i see u]

[Are wegoing to meet up then?][So eager to see me :P]

[Kuzuryuu?]

[I’m sorryif I made it weird]

[nahi had to hide my phone fr a bit][ur the one who sounds too happy bout gettinghis face smashed]

[You’re tooviolent][How do you have firneds if you treaten to hurt htem all the time?]

[nicetypos]

[Hush. Atleast I use proper grammar most of the time]

[yshould i waste my time with shit like that?]

[Forlegibility][I got to go][Got phys ed :/][Save me]

[ihope u have to run laps the entire time]

[You areevil]

Hope’sPeak’s festival comes and goes one weekend. As usual, it is a busy event due tothe school’s prestigious standing. Hajime, as promised, visits Chiaki’s class,doing an interactive murder mystery café of sorts where customers are givenclues with their orders to figure out the murder of a prop set up in the centerof the classroom. He finally meets some of Chiaki’s classmates whom she’stalked about and apparently she’s talked to them about him in return. However,and though he won’t admit it to anyone other than Chiaki if hard pressed, hekeeps his ears open for the name Kuzuryuu and is disappointed to realize thathis texting buddy was nowhere to be seen.

(“Kuzuryuu?We sent him to go advertise with Koizumi and Saionji,” says Sonia. “Do you twoknow each other?”

“Uh,he mis-texted me once,” Hajime replies. He redirects further questions awayfrom him and towards what they used to make the neon pink blood for the fakecrime scene.)

Hajimemay have lingered around for a bit until he couldn’t justify staying and beinga distraction any longer. By the time he leaves to go back home, he’s exchangednumbers with a few of them with vague promises to meet up some time and hangout. Even as he leaves the school, weaving past the steady stream of peoplestill entering the premise, his eyes roam for individuals advertising forChiaki’s class. He returns home to his books and TV without having met aKuzuryuu.

[You guysdid a good job at your school fest]

[uwent?]

[I promisedChiaki]

[u2 datin or somthn?]

[God no][We’ve known each other forever]

[doesntmean u havnt dated]

[Ew][She’s practically my sister]

[heardu got numbers frm some girls in my class]

[Oh yeah][Are Sonia and Mioda always like that?]

[annoying?][obnoxious?][preppy?]

[Haha][Your class seems really cool]

[seems][u dont see them 5 days a week]

[I bet your classmates have thingsto say about you too]

[maybe][but they wouldnt live for long if they say anything]

[Hahahawhat are you, the yakuza?]

[Kuzuryuu?]

[uhavent looked me up?]

[Why wouldI?][And you’ve never told me your first name]

[uwouldnt need my first name][but its fuyuhiko]

[You’re not pulling oneover on me are you?]

[i go to hopespeak idiot][sonia’s a motherfucking princess][nd y woud i joke about that?]

[You’re not going to send people after me for makingfun of you, are you?]

[ur entertainingfor now]

[Oh ha ha][Glad I amuse you]

[Wait][Oh my god][Is this you?][[image]]

[u got somethingto say?]

[No][Just][Not what I was expecting]

[think carefullybout ur words hinata]

[I thought I wasentertaining?]

[toys can getbroken]

[Now that’s uncalled for][I didn’t even say anything about how adorable you look]

[HINATA]

[It’s true though!][You can’t call a hit on me for being truthful]

[just shut up][y did i tell you to look me up][yd u look for pictures?]

[Curiosity][We’ve been talking for a while now and we don’t even know what the other lookslike]

[Kuzuryuu?][Did you know what I looked like?]

[bein cautious isimportant]

[Omg you looked me up][What horrible pictures did you find???]

[[image]]

[That’s from Chiaki’s fb!]

[not that hard]

[I TRIED TO FIND YOU ONFB THOUGH]

[securitysettings]

[Oh][Point]

It’snot too long after that Hajime receives a friend request from one KuzuryuuFuyuhiko. He hits accept almost embarrassingly fast and proceeds to exploreKuzuryuu’s newly unveiled profile with the eagerness of a stalker given an inchand taking a mile. There’s not much to explore, the other boy doesn’t seem touse the website very much, which honestly does not surprise Hajime though hecan’t help but feel a little disappointed.

[The last time you were active onfb was almost a year ago][And it was a profile pic update][That you didn’t even upload??]

[soudand sonia hacked my account][sonia was offended my profile pic was like 2 yrs old][koizumi has a fuckton of pics of ppl][nd i was 2 lazy 2 change it]

[It’s agood picture of you]

[thanks]

Uponadding Kuzuryuu, Hajime’s flooded by friend requests from Chiaki’s otherclassmates and ends up talking semi-regularly with them. Kuzuryuu and him stilltext each other practically daily, to the point Chiaki comments on it whenHajime is over at hers to help her complete co-op achievements for a game she’syet to 100 per cent.

(“Youand Kuzuryuu seem to really get along.” Chiaki glances pointedly at Hajime’sphone as it buzzes several times, Kuzuryuu’s name flashing on the screen.

Hajimeshrugs noncommittedly, and is oddly relieved that the game finishes loading andthey’re thrust into a horde of mutant creatures.)

Evenhis classmates notice he’s on his phone a lot more often during and betweenclasses.

(“Gota girlfriend, Hinata?”

Frowning,Hajime shakes his head, “No, why?”

“You’realways on your phone texting and smiling down at it.”

Hajime’ssure his face has never been more red and when, moments later, he gets a textfrom Kuzuryuu complaining about the apparent Souda-Sonia-Tanaka love trianglethat should just turn into a threesome, he realizes his face does indeed moveon its own.)

[Oh my godhelp]

[what’dyou do?]

[Gave into peer pressure and wentto a goukon with some classmates -_-][I’m hiding in the bathroom][But I’ll have ot go back out there][:c]

[urnot drinking r u?][ur not 20]

[A yakuzaheir is against underage drinking?]

[udidnt answer]

[No one’sdrinking][We’re at a karaoke place][But htank you for caring c:]

[shutup][u dont usually go out w/ ur classmates]

[Yeah][Some of them have been teasing me about a girlfriend so I mostly just went sothey’d shut up]

[girlfriend?][u said u nd nanami werent dating]

[We’re not][They think you’re my secret girlfriend]

[?]

[Apparently I smiled while textingor something][And I’ve been on my phone more often][And you’re the only person I really text during class so]

[oh]

[Yeah, funny right?][Wonder what they’d think if they knew I was texting buddies with the heir tothe Kuzuryuu clan lmao][Though some ofthem already give me shit for being close to Chiaki just cuz shegoes to Hope’s Peak][They think you guys are snobby elitests just cuz you go to a prestigiousschool and we’re just public school kids][But you guys arent tat different][Just different talents and families][Woops sorry][Didn’t mean to get all ranty][Ugh I gotta go][Can’t hide here forever]

Afterthe goukon, which wasn’t horrible but neither was it all that enjoyable, Hajime’splunged into preparations for his school’s culture festival and upcoming exams. He’s barely had timeto text Kuzuryuu other than short greetings and the occasional tidbit from hisday that the other boy would find amusing. He misses their daily conversationsand when he finally has some down time, the day before the culture festival,he’s holed up in his room and on his phone while he catches up on TV shows onhis laptop.

[Hey longtime no chat][I’ve finally got free time again!]

[yea][school stuff?]

[Yeah][Every teacher decided to have everything due weeks early so we weren’toverwhelend when finals come around][Kill me -_-]

[shouldnt u be spending ur free timew/ ur gf stead of talking to me?]

[What?]

[ugot a gf or whatvr after that goukon][didnt u?]

[No?][Where’d you hear that?]

[therewas a pic on fb][u were tagged][it showed up on my feed]

[I haventbeen on fb recently][Lemme check]

[Oooooh][Yeah no][I wasn’t even aware this was taken][And the comments are baseless][I barely spoke to her][There was no ‘chemistry brewing’]

[shescute tho]

[Yeah Iguess?][Objectively][But not really interested][She doesn’t go to my school][And we met for like five seconds]

[datingimplies getting to kno eachother]

[Yeah but][Idk][Just nothing clicked?][And I wasn’t even looking for anything going to the thing either so][What about you?]

[watabout me?]

[You thinkshe’s cute][She your type?]

[no]

[Am I notgetting more than that?]

[i’mmore into a dif set of anatomy]

[?????]

[shesnot a he]

[Oh][OH][You’re]

[homo]

[Oh]

[ifthats a problem u should delete my number]

[NO][Not a prob at all][Sorry][Just surpside][Supreied][SURPRISED][Fuck][I’m sorry]

[usaid that alredy]

[Well I am][Could have responded better]

[couldaresponded worse][so][not a prob?]

[Coursenot][That’d be stupid for one][And hypocrtical for antoher]

[hypocritical?]

[I’m bi][Or pan][Idk][Still nto sure about the difference tbh][Nd I have a friend who’s ace]

[nanami?]

[I cannot divulge something that isnot mine to tell]

[she let it slip when we werecleaning up after culture fest][sonia and mioda bugged her bout if u two were dating][hanamura wanted to know bout ur sex life]

[Hanamurascares me][And yes to Chiaki being my ace friend]

[hanamurascares everyone][u basically gave it away with ur notanswr answer]

[Shedoesn’t care][But I still didn’t actually confirm or deny][Because that would be rude][(◡‿◡✿)]

[fuckoff][dont u dare start using those kaomoji things like nanami]

[(。・ω・。)][( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)][*｡:ﾟ+\(^‿^✿)]

[imgonna block u]

[(◕‸◕✿) *pout*]

Theydon’t re-visit the topic of sexuality again and settle back into their frequentback and forth texting. Hajime’s still teased at school but once he finallycaves and lets his classmates know that he is not texting a girl, but a boyfrom Chiaki’s class at Hope’s Peak, all interest in his affairs are lost.

Winteris fast approaching and with that comes the school culture festivals foreveryone other than Hope’s Peak, who have their festival earlier because no onewould go to any other school event if Hope’s Peak is allowing outsiders to touraround. Hajime’s class decides what to do rather quickly since no one’s allthat interested in putting too much effort, but Hajime still ends up being runragged with the rest of his class in the last minute preparations.

[I hateculture fests]

[culturefest?]

[Yeah][My school’s one is coming up][My class is doing a butler/maid cafe][Because we are simple public school students who don’t have the resources forpink blood]

[I was kidding][Your class’ murder cafe was the best thing I’ve ever seen][Thouhg I admit I had high expectations since you guys do go to Hope’s Peak]

[it was nanami’s idea][nd hanamuras a creep but good cook][nd sonias gotta 1up everyone nd dished out money so we could go way overbudget]

[Haha][But it was great][I had a lot of fun]

[Btw][Your birthday’s coming up right?]

[no][y?]

[Is yourbirthday not during the winter?]

[itsin aug]

[But yourname is FUYUhiko]

[ndmy sis is natsumi but her birthdays in march]

[But][That doesn’t make sense]

[blameour parents]

Hajime’sculture festival comes and goes. It goes fairly well in his opinion, even ifhis butler uniform ended up shrinking in the wash and it was too late to fix. He’spretty sure his pants were borderline indecent with how tight they were and thefact that he had felt far too many eyes on his ass and crotch region during theday was not comforting in the least. No real disturbances occurred though, other than when Chiaki came by and was recognizedby video game enthusiasts and Hope’s Peak admirers.

[thoughtu were doing a butler cafe not a host club]

[?????]

[[image]]

[Where didyou get that???]

[ihave my sources][could u not find pants that werent 3 szies too small?]

[It shrankin the wash okay][But oh god][Did I look that bad all day???][Kill me]

[udidn’t look bad][how many ppl asked u out this time?]

[None??][Though now I know why girls kept giggling when I turned my back][I don’t know if I can show my face at school again]

[theywere prob giggling cuz u have a nice ass]

[Ha ha]

[urnot ugly idiot][i bet tons of girls are crushing on u at school][nd guys][im surprised ur single]

[Shut up][If it’s a surprise anyone is single it’s you][You’re funny, snarky, smart, and really attractive][And you pretend like you’re relaly grumpy and antisocial][But when Chiaki talks about school and you come up you’re always taking part][And the fact that you’re secretly really toned][Like seeing those beach pictures on Koizumi’s fb][Oh my god][And your eyes][If they look that gorg in candid photos I don’t want to imagine in rl][And I’m just this normal whatever][Mediocre in every way]

[Uh][Pretend I never said all that?]

[didu fb stalk me on other ppl’s fb?][nd ask nanmi to spy on me for u?]

[No]

[Maybe][No to the spying][Maybe I would ask about you though?][I’m sorry]

[ur not mediocre][wanna talk about pretty eyes?][and secretly toned bodies?][if u wore clothes that didnt swallow u][ud be batting away pple who wanna date/fuck u][nd ur eyes are the ones that are gorg and unique][u have any idea how many times ive thought of wanting to see em in person?][nad how nanami talks about u all the time][i knew of u before the whole mistexting crap][but as nanmi’s annoying notboyfriend][and now i get hwy she praises u so much][anyone would be lucky to go out with you][ur stupidly nice and considerate][but also a sarcastic little shit u cant hate]

[You don’t need to say nice thingsto me just cuz I made a fool of myself just now]

[imflirting wth u dumbass]

[Oh]

Hajime is typing…

[uever gonna finish ur reply]

[I’mpanicking][Give me a break][I don’t know how to respond]

[fine][go on a date with me?][ y ( ) n ( )]

[How did Inever realize how dorky you are]

[fuckinjust anser or ill punch ur stupid face]

[Maybe I’drather you kiss it]

[andi’m a dork?][fucking loser]

[Shut up][You didn’t say no though]

[ustill havent answered me]

[You first]

[fucku i asked first]

[I askedsecond]

[HINATAI S2G I WILL SHANK U]

[I’m sorry][I default to annoying when im embbarsed and dont know waht im doing][I want you to kiss me. I want to kiss you][So yes please]

[yesor no woulda been fine][dork]

“…”

“What?”Kuzuryuu finally snaps.

“This is a lot harder in person,”Hinata laughs weakly. And it really is. Especially because Kuzuryuu is even cuter in person and Hajime didn’tthink that could be possible. Also, the skinny jeans and casual button downcombo he’s sporting makes it hard for Hajime to look anywhere at the boy’s bodywithout blushing. He’d been so excited to finally meet up, expecting to fallinto conversation as easily as they do while texting, but one look at Kuzuryuuwaiting by the entrance of the movie theater, scowling at everyone who’d lookat him, had wiped most of the vocabulary in Hajime’s brain.

“Younever shut up when we text,” Kuzuryuu grumbles.

“It’snot my fault you’re even cuter in person and I forgot everything I wanted tosay.” Kuzuryuu scowls but he also turns redder than before. “See! If you canstop being so adorab—”

“Hinata,I swear if you call me c-cute or a—that, again you’ll wish I sent Peko afteryou.”

“Peko?”

Kuzuryuugives him a look that is equal parts fond and exasperated and a littlebewildered. “You could have found so much about me just from a few google searches.”

Hajimejust shrugs and looks down at his feet, “Yeah, but I’d rather get to know youby actually talking to you.” When he looks up, Kuzuryuu’s facing away but notenough to completely hide the fact that his cheeks and ears are tinged a darkpink-red, especially since Hajime’s got a 22cm height advantage. Hajime grins.“C’mon, we’re going to be late for the movie.”

Whenhe reaches forward and grabs Kuzuryuu’s hands, he files away the squawkingnoise the shorter boy emits as he tugs him along towards the movie theater. Inall honesty, Hajime wouldn’t be able to tell anyone about the movie they saw –he believes it was an action flick – since Kuzuryuu decided to pay back the handholding with a game of gay chicken that led to some intense public displayingof affection. They’re lucky the theater was mostly empty and they chose seatstowards the back. Hajime’s mental notes of Kuzuryuu by the end of the movieinclude several points relating to the plushness of Kuzuryuu’s lips, the factthat Kuzuryuu’s palate is quite the sensitive spot, and that Kuzuryuu has totry extremely hard to remain quiet.

#ask #kuzuhina #hinata hajime #kuzuryuu fuyuhiko #sdr2 #dangan ronpa #danganronpa #super dangan ronpa 2 #anonymous #my writing #tumblr fic

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