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bugabash · 3 years ago

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Hold me while we Fall - Chapter 3

WOW, I was late with this update, whoops! And the sole reason is that i am Lazy :D

Any hoo, this chapter was written and rewritten many damn times that I was ready to just give up, but I finally got it out! Now the amazing @sweetjupiterr and I are working on this project together, and some art work will be coming out in the future :D Please check out her Tumblr and her Instagram

Enjoy :)

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AO3

Chapter 3 - Training

“My name is Commandant Sadies! I am here for the sole purpose to make you feel fear! I am here to make you piss yourself at the sound of my voice! If I do my job right over the next 3 years you will become a shell of yourself and then become a soldier we can call competent! Right now, I am looking at you fucking sack of shits and I see no one who is good enough to be in the military!” The commandant screamed from the front, his arms behind his back, “Do not mistake anything I do for kindness! Because as far as you know I am the last face you see before you become a fucking SNACK for the titans!” He glared at them all, “now! I do not give a FUCK what is between your legs, you will be treated the same and no one has any excuse to fail at anything! You are cadets first and foremost! If I hear anyone complain you will be punished accordingly! Let’s have some fun!”

The commandant was a tall, bald man with deep sunken, black eyes and his face wore a look that spoke a thousand words. He used to be the commander for the scouts, his kill count for Titans was impressive and he was described as the best commandant that the military has had in years. The soldiers he brought into the military after the three years were the best in a long time. He walked with a sense of confidence that only looking death in the face could give you.

And now he was walking in their lines, drilling almost everyone, screaming in their faces and making them sweat. So far he had completed the first line and Marinette heard a few names, one girl’s name was Rose, she was from a small village in wall Rose (funnily enough, the commandant loved using that) and she was tiny, even smaller than Marinette, with short pixie cut blonde hair. She seemed like a little doll if Marinette were honest, her voice was high pitched and she everything about her seemed fragile. When the commandant was done with her she was trembling and her head was hung. Marinette wondered if she was crying.

The next person who caught Marinette’s eye was a tall boy with black spiked hair and broad shoulders. She couldn’t see his face but she could tell he was noticeably confident. The commandant had a grin on his face as he screamed at the boy, calling him a moronic ape. The boy’s name was Kim Le Chiến, the name stood out to her because she knew it was an oriental name just like the Cheng part of her name. She knew there were other clans but they usually stayed hidden out of fear of seclusion. Like her father always used to say, people fear others who don’t look like themselves. Kim was from a hunting village that used to reside in wall Maria, he wanted to join the scouts, screaming it out proudly as he saluted with his right fist over his heart. The commandant seemed content and moved on.

Marinette spotted one girl who was tall, long dark black hair that was in a braid down her back, her fringe covering most of her eye, she seemed to be the commandant’s new favourite toy from the look he gave her. She trembled as he screamed in her face, grabbing her fringe and lifting it up much to her surprise, screaming in her face about how he wanted soldiers who could actually see the titans before they were eaten. But the worst part was when he asked her anything, her voice was so soft and she had no confidence, making the Commandant even more angry. He didn’t get much out of her, calling her a disappointment and told her to start running around the field until he told her to stop. Marinette watched her jog off awkwardly, her eyes wide and fear all over her face.

The first row turned and faced the others at the commandant’s orders and soon Marinette was watching him grab a small dark skinned boy by the head and lifted him up, glaring at him and asking him if he was dropped as a baby, he had said the wrong thing apparently when he said he wanted to join the military police. Marinette looked forward, hearing the boy be dropped. So far the others were just… normal. She watched as the commandant skipped people, eyeing one girl in particular, she had dark auburn hair that she wore down around her shoulders, the ends in a small ponytail. He eyed her with a frown before moving on. Soon the second row was facing them and the commandant was making his way down her row.

Marinette looked to the side at Alya briefly, seeing her anxiously shuffling in her place. Marinette knew she was nervous, they had gone over what they would say the night before, reciting it over and over. Marinette felt sure in herself, she felt pride in her uniform and she felt like she had found her place. She took a deep breath and kept her eyes staring ahead as the commandant stepping in front of her.

He looked her over, his eyes falling on her scar and he examined it before moving on to Alya. She sighed in relief and closed her eyes, her mind going numb as she felt her scar go cold. She hated that scar so much, but at least it got her off the hook. She felt beads of sweat drop down her back slowly, the cold water against her hot skin making her skin prickle up in goosebumps. It was such an odd feeling, but it triggered a memory of that day, those green eyes, the blonde hair, the sweat dripping down his face and on to her in the giant hand. Her eyes shot open and she controlled her breathing as she felt it start to get erratic, glancing to the side with her eyes and saw Alya trembling with wide eyes, staring at the ground.

Shit! Marinette had completely blanked and missed Alya’s turn. She would ask her about it later, now she just needed to keep her head clear and keep focused.

“Third row about face!”

Marinette stood there, staring at the tall, blonde haired, green eyed boy in front of her, her mind going blank. Time froze and she felt her heart drop into her stomach, the hair on the back of her neck standing up. She looked him up and down, how was he here? Why was he here? They stared at each other, eyes wide, Marinette’s right eye twitching slightly.

Adrien…

He had grown a few inches, his shoulder’s broader and his jaw more defined. His face had lost his baby fat and he had the beginning of some facial hair barely visible on his chin. She realised she had her breath held as the commandant stepped in front of her, looking at Adrien. She blinked and shook her head, she needed to get her composure back. She was suddenly very aware that she was in the shirt she had thought he had left for her as well. She looked over at Alya who had wide eyes and her jaw was slack. She knew Alya had spoken to Adrien before when he visited her apparently. But Marinette never asked more, the pain of it all too overwhelming at the time. She took a deep breath and looked back, blinking.

She looked at Adrien who was frowning at her. Why was he frowning at her? So, in return, she frowned back in defiance, shaking her head a little and raising her eyebrow as if to say what. His eyes moved away from her eyes as he looked her over. She scrunched her lips up and looked him over too.

How had it been a year and a half already? How were they in the same cadet corps? How had he grown up so much since then? She had barely changed, only grown a little after hitting puberty, the only change to her was probably her hair and that she didn’t smile much anymore. She caught his eyes again but… he wasn’t frowning anymore. He was looking at her like… her frown dropped and she watched him, gulping softly. He was looking at her like he did that day when he thought they were safe. Like she was the only person in the world. What was he…?

“Fourth row, about face!” And like that he turned around, his back to her. She stared at the back of his head for a minute before blocking out her thoughts on him. Turning her attention back to the task at hand, she needed to stay focused. This didn’t change anything. Just a slight bump in the road. Major bump but that didn’t matter!

“What is your name, bean stalk!” She heard the commandant yell, thankful to take her mind off of Adrien, looking over. He was standing in front of a tall boy with dark shaggy hair that fell over his forehead and sparkling blue eyes.

He came to attention, his fist over his heart with his other arm behind his back still, “Luka Couffaine, sir!”

“Couffaine, huh? Is that your undisciplined sister running around the field like a fuck up?” He yelled back.

“Yes sir! She is my younger twin sister, sir!” Luka replied confidently, his cool and calm exterior intriguing her.

“Twins huh? That’s rarity these days!” The commandant said as he pulled on his small goatee as if in thought, “are you going to be as quiet and useless as her, Couffaine?”

“No sir! I am loud and I am ready to fight!” Luka clenched his fist tighter, his brows furrowed slightly.

“Is that so? Where are you and your creature of a sister from, Couffaine?” The commandant leant in closer.

“Shiganshina sir!” He replied, his eyes darkening. Marinette raised her brows and gulped, there were more people from Shiganshina here? It was a stupid question, but she grew up there and had never seen this boy before.

“Shiganshina hey?” The commandant examined him briefly before speaking up, stepping into Luka’s personal space. “And what do you plan on doing if I allow you to graduate, private? Are you going to fuck off to the inner walls like the rest of these pussies want to do or are you going to be a man?”

“I plan on joining the scouts sir!” Luka yelled in determination.

The commandant was quiet for a minute before he scoffed, “Well, we will see if you are worth it now won’t we.” And with that he moved on.

Marinette watched him walk to the next person before her eyes went back to the boy, Luka. He caught her eyes and looked over at her. She blinked and looked back, unable to look away like she was frozen, watching as he smiled small at her briefly before dropping it before the commandant could see. Marinette blinked and smiled slightly, looking away and staring back forward, noticing Adrien’s head was turned slightly. Was he looking at Luka?

Soon the commandant was back in the front, everyone facing him at attention. “The next three years will be the worse you have ever experienced in your pathetic lives! You will be pushed to the breaking point both mentally and physically! If you do not wake up in the future hating these days then you didn’t try hard enough and should be fucking ashamed!” He yelled, “I am not training you to run off to the fucking interior, I am training you to be scouts, or the level of the scouts! Do you understand me?”

“Sir, yes, sir!” They chanted.

“This does not mean that you have to join the scouts before you ask some stupid fucking questions, but you better fucking be as good as them or else you aren’t good enough for the military and you can go work the field with the other cowards!” He started walking down the line. “Any of you worthless shits ready to quit? The wagon leaves at sundown. Now, let the fun begin!”

---

Marinette grumbled under her breath as she finished pulling on her civilian clothes. She sighed and stood in front of her wooden locker, brushing her hair in frustration. She was in a pale pink knee length skirt, light brown lace up boots and a white button up top under her faded black cardigan, with a grey scarf around her neck in an effort to hide her scar. The clothes were slightly baggy on her as they were second hand from Alya’s sister and mom, but she didn’t care at this point. Her body ached from the hours of extreme physical activity and she was starving. She put her brush down and looked over at Alya who was lacing up her brown boots. She had chosen to wear a dark grey skirt and a white shirt with a dark brown vest buttoned up on her stomach. Her hair was in a pony still, her fluffy hair falling around her face with ease.

She stood up and checked everything was in place before smiling at Marinette, “you ready?” She asked, Marinette nodded took a deep breath, the bell for dinner chiming. Great… Just in time. The girls building was the furthest away from everything so the walk took a little more of a walk compared to the boys’. But from the ruckus coming from their courters, she was certain they would be late. She rolled her eyes, boys.

“Do you think Adrien is going to approach you?” Alya asked curiously, eyes on the dirt floor as they made their way to the mess hall.

“I don’t know… It’s been so long since I last saw him, I’ve only met him once and it’s like…it’s like I have known him longer, you know? We met once but what we went through was…” She frowned and sighed, running her hands through her hair in frustration. “Intense to say the least. I just wanted a fresh start, I wasn’t expecting him to be here.”

“And he saw you in his shirt.” Alya chimed in, causing Marinette’s head to snap towards her.

“You said you didn’t know if it was his or not?” Marinette questioned with a frown and a pouted lip.

“I uhm, well you see, you weren’t in the uh, greatest of states.” Alya stammered out nervously, her fingers fiddling with each other, a nervous smile on her face. “I didn’t know how you would react! But yeah… it’s uh, his. He asked me to give it to you, then you uh… headbutted a nurse and I thought it best not to tell you. I’m sorry, girl.”

Marinette glared at her playfully before sighing and looking forward, “at least I know now, ugh, I must have looked like such a loser today, Alya.”

“I don’t think so, I was watching him, he seemed pretty shocked to see you, but I saw how he looked at you.” Alya elbowed her playfully as they started up the steps, “it was quite the look.” Alya giggled, Marinette rolling her eyes at her friend.

“I am not here for that.” She chided back before she looked to the side, blinking and walking to the railing on the balcony outside the mess hall. Alya stood next to her, her smile gone. A few others joined them as they started at the cart going up the hill.

“They couldn’t make it, gave up.” A voice behind her spoke up, “Man, I know today sucked but enough to quit?”

“Some people just can’t handle it. Get over it, Kim.” A high pitch, annoyed voice piped up that made Marinette frown and roll her eyes instinctively. She watched the wagon leave, the people in the back huddled together, their hoods up. She didn’t recognise anyone special, maybe one girl from her room but that was it. Was it really that bad for them that they had to quit? It was the first day!

“Come on, let’s get something to eat.” Alya said, tugging on Marinette’s arm. Marinette let her pull her along, turning and heading inside to the big hall that was lined with wooden picnic tables and a station to be served. Marinette followed her along, passing a girl who was stood at the doorway as if she were waiting for someone, her arms crossed over her chest and such a sour expression that made Marinette curl her lip up, she just knew this girl was going to be a problem. She had that look. She was around Alya’s height, slim with long blonde hair that was in a high ponytail, her bangs framing her face. She had perfect skin, piercing blue eyes and a mouth that seemed to be permanently in a scowl. She glared at Marinette as she passed, Marinette raised a brow at her but didn’t give her much time. “Keep moving, Scarface.” She growled, making Marinette blink and pull her scarf up over her mouth for comfort.

Marinette glanced around as they entered the hall, her already bitter mood even worse. It was mainly the girls in there, a few of the boys were already sitting, boasting away and metaphorically measuring dick sizes. She knew the signs, she had seen so many boys do it in her lessons before. She saw a few people were looking at her, whispering to each other so she turned her eyes forward.

“Do you think she got her scar facing a titan?”

“He didn’t even speak to her.”

“I heard she’s from Shiganshina.”

“Do you think she was there?”

“How big do you think it is?”

“No way she escaped a titan, she barely looks like she can break a toothpick.”

Marinette looked away, fiddling with her scarf more making sure her scar was hidden. “Don’t listen to them.” Alya said, passing her a mug and bowl. “Let’s get some food, girl.”

Soon they were sitting at a table in the corner, as Alya knew Marinette liked to be out of view. The whispers carried on unfortunately, Marinette purposefully sitting so the candlelight hit her right side of her face, chewing on her lip.

“Girl, what have I said? Ignore them. They aren’t talking about your scar, they are talking about how you got it.” Alya said, reaching over and taking Marinette’s hand. Marinette blinked and frowned slightly, “no one knows the real story but I heard a few people making shit up,” she rolled her eyes and broke off a piece of her bread, dipping it into her stew. “I heard one story about how you fought off a titan with a butter knife, hmm, was interesting.”

Marinette snorted and looked down at her food, playing with it a bit before she pushed her scarf down and started eating. It was bland, mushy and didn’t really taste good, but Marinette didn’t care. This was amazing to her from the rationing the past year and a half, and she was starving. “A butterknife huh? That’s pretty dumb.”

“Yeah, I know.” Alya said with a smirk, “I started it.” Marinette raised her eyebrows before she snorted out a giggle, covering her mouth to stop the stew coming out, Alya giggling along with her.

“You did not!” Marinette hissed between her silent giggles.

“Of course, it was me! It’s too funny! They are going to find out soon anyway, may as well let them be dumb enough to believe shit like that. And if they do, then that’s on them.” She giggled in reply, biting into her bread with a wink.

Marinette shook her head and smiled small at her friend, eyes going back over the crowd of teenagers she would soon call her comrades, maybe even her friends. As she looked back down she heard someone clear their throat to her left. Both her and Alya looked up and saw Adrien standing there with a boy Marinette thought was Nino. He was a little taller than Adrien, dressed in dark brown trousers and a black V-neck shirt, he had golden, hazel eyes and dark skin, his hair spiked on top while faded underneath.

Shit! She chocked on her bread and ended up coughing, hiding her face as she did. Alya looked over at her with a raised brow as Adrien patted Marinette on the back worriedly.

“You good girl?” She asked, tilting her head and smirking small. Marinette nodded in reply and flashed a thumbs up before grabbing her mug of water, downing it as Adrien straightened back up. Shit, shit, shit.

Adrien looked at Marinette worriedly, “Are you okay?” He asked gently, his brows furrowed together.

“Y-ye” she cleared her throat, “yeah, I’m all goo-good, I’m fine.” She stammered, wiping her mouth and sitting up straight.

“Is it cool if we sit with you, dudettes?” Nino asked, Marinette blinking as how he spoke. It was very nonchalant and was how the boys who would get in trouble a lot at school would talk. But something about him made Marinette feel at ease, like he was someone she could trust.

“Yeah, of course.” Alya said, eyeing Marinette before she moved to the right so one of the boys could slip in. Nino slid next to her on her left, smiling lazily at her. Marinette gulped and moved over too, letting Adrien slide in. She pulled her scarf up as the candlelight on the table hit her left side, her scar on full show. She looked around anxiously and saw more people looking at her and whispering. Adrien placed his plate down and watched her worriedly.

“They aren’t just looking at you, Marinette.” He spoke up, causing her to look at him with a jump, “the guys in my room found out I was in Shiganshina and saw the titans thanks to someone’s” he frowned at Nino, “big mouth. So, they’ve been talking about me too.” Marinette was put at ease a little more at the thought that it wasn’t just her. Nodding and letting the scarf fall back down, looking down at her food, willing her appetite to come back. “I’m actually surprised they haven’t come over here questioning us on it if I’m honest. They aren’t shy.”

“Well, I mean they’re probably scared of her, Marinette was it?” Marinette nodded at Nino, “I mean, I heard you took down a Titan with a butterknife and that’s how you got your gnarly scar!” Alya snorted her into her mug next to him, Marinette biting her lips in an attempt not to laugh, and Adrien looked at Nino in bewilderment and confusion, his brows raise.

“Wait, what?” Adrien asked in confusion.

“Oh, didn’t you hear? Little miss badass here got her scar by fighting off a titan with a butterknife!” Alya joked with a hearty laugh, “that’s how she got her scar.” Marinette laughed softly, rolling her eyes.

“She isn’t serious, right?” Adrien asked Marinette nervously, looking down at her with wide eyes and a pained expression.

“No.” She replied and shook her head, “they have been talking about me all day, so Alya here,” Alya waved, “told them I got my scar fighting a titan with a butterknife, of all things.” Marinette chuckled softly, taking a bite of her bread as her nerves slowly faded, hunger replacing them.

“No way, that was you?” Nino asked Alya with a raised brow, “respect!” Alya laughed and high fived Nino, Marinette smiling small and focusing back on her meal. “So, Marinette, how did you get your scar?” Nino asked cheerfully with his mouth full.

Marinette froze as she broke apart her bread, eyes dashing to Adrien who was looking down at his own bowl, his Adams apple bobbing. She looked back down at her food and cleared her throat, she knew there would be questions. “I’m from Shiganshina. I got hit by some debris when a titan fell behind us. Nothing special, simply wrong place at the wrong time.” Marinette answered as casually as she could manage, pressing her lips together tightly as she smiled awkwardly and shrugging, feeling Adrien’s eyes on her.

“Wait, you have actually seen the titans? For real?” Nino exclaimed a little too loud for Marinette’s liking. She froze, looking up to see the room was almost silent now, and people were looking over at them. “Both of you two have?”

“Nino.” Adrien warned, “Shut up.” He looked around nervously too, Marinette didn’t think it was a day he would enjoy talking about either. Marinette rolled her shoulders nervously as if she were getting out knots in her muscles, pulling her scarf up.

Nino turned and looked around guiltily, “Shit, sorry dude.” He whispered before he turned around and hunched over, shovelling his food into his mouth. Marinette fiddled with her food between her fingers, pulling apart the last bit of bread and watching it fall into what was left of her stew.

Marinette and Adrien looked at each other as the talking picked back up in the room, a frown on Marinette’s mouth and her brows furrowed. Adrien glanced around again, Marinette watching as his hair flowed on his forehead and around his ears as he looked around. She had to admit to herself, he did look incredible with shaggier hair. She blushed and looked away with wide eyes, what kind of thought was that? The thought making her very aware the last time she saw him she was only eleven and a half maybe, she was under 5”, a child still, and hadn’t even hit puberty, she should not be having those kinds of thoughts, especially because he probably still sees her as that little child.

“So, Adrien.” Alya spoke up, bringing Marinette back to Earth, “are you from Shiganshina too?”

Adrien looked back at her and smiled warmly, “no, uh, I’m actually from…” He hesitated, “uh, I’m from Stohess.” They all stared at him in shock, Marinette more than anyone.

Stohess? He was from Stohess? Why the hell was he in Shiganshina that day? That’s a district on the interior walls.

“You’re from the interior?” Nino asked in surprise, “dude…”

“I mean, I guess, it’s not exactly the interior, and plus I haven’t been there in over a year and a half.” Adrien pointed out, rubbing the back of his neck.

Alya was examining him, “you don’t seem like someone from the interior.” She leant over the table slightly. “They are usually so far up their asses that they like the smell of their own shit, you don’t seem like that.”

Adrien looked slightly amused, a small cocky grin appearing, “what? Not everyone is like that, trust me. And that could also be because I have been living with…” He was about to say something but he stopped, Marinette frowned, she was sure he was about to say his brother, but he didn’t. Why didn’t he? “I have relatives in the scouts, they took me in.” He glanced at Marinette briefly, he looked nervous. Relatives? That was one way of putting it. She knew his brother was in the scouts, and Tikki had said he had come back from the attempt to get Wall Maria back so she knew he was alive. Why wasn’t he saying anything about Plagg? She could reason that he didn’t want special treatment, but she doubted it would end up like that if anyone knew. But she wasn’t going to tell his story, it wasn’t her place, but she would question him later.

“The scouts? That’s lucky.” Nino replied, “so, you must be, like starving.” Nino laughed as Adrien raised a brow, “did they feed you as well as people say?”

“I mean, I never went hungry, but it wasn’t as great as everyone likes to say.” Adrien shrugged, “I spent most of the time alone and I always ate alone. I preferred the time I spent with the scouts if I’m honest.”

“Well, you are one of the few from the interior I think, I don’t know any of them yet, well, besides Chloe.” Nino pointed out, “everyone else is from the outers walls.”

“Who’s Chloe?” Marinette asked softly between bites, her hunger back in full force, Adrien snorting a laugh as she shovelled the last bit of her stew into her mouth.

“The bitchy one.” Alya said with a roll of her eyes, “the blonde one who looks like someone bitch slapped her expression onto her face.” Alya leant into her hand as she rested her elbow on the table, “she wanted to go to the cadet bases in the interior but got sent here instead. She’s dead set on military police, boasting about how she is going to live a life of luxury.” Alya rolled her eyes and curled her lip up in disgust. “But she is probably one of the most awful people I have ever met.”

“Wait, the girl from earlier?” Marinette asked with a raised brow, Adrien looking at her.

“Sadly, I told you, awful person!” Alya exclaimed, waving her hand in gesture.

“What happened earlier?” Adrien asked, looking between her and Alya.

Marinette frowned, pushing her bowl to the side, “after we saw the dropouts leave we passed her on the way in, she just gave me a filthy look and called me… Scarface.” She said, running her fingers over her marred cheek, feeling the jagged scar.

“What? That’s not okay, Marinette!” Adrien exclaimed, Nino looking horrified as he dropped his spoon into his bowl.

“Dude…”

“It’s fine, honestly, it doesn’t bug me.” Marinette reassured them, her eyes dancing between the boys, the light reflecting off her blue eyes.

“That’s so shit dude, you don’t say stuff like that.” Nino shook his head, “see, that’s what I would expect from a person from the interior, not… you.” Nino joked, Adrien laughing softly, but his brows were furrowed and he seemed lost in thought.

As they were chatting, a certain blonde had made her way over, slamming her hands onto the table, making all of them jump and look at her. Marinette stared at her with wide eyes, she had moved away from the noise, bumping into Adrien’s chest who placed a hand on her waist to steady her, a frown on his face as he glared at Chloe.

“How funny!” Chloe spoke up, a devilish grin on her face, “the little peasant made a joke!” She eyed Nino who just frowned at her. “Nothing to say now? How cute.” She straightened up and flicked her ponytail back with practiced ease, eyeing them all before her gaze stopped on Adrien, her brow raising. “Adrien Agreste?” She asked in genuine surprise, Adrien blinked, “last I heard you were a missing person.”

The three turned and looked at him, Marinette not moving but just turning her head to look up at him, the feeling of his chest against part of her back was comforting, “what?”

Adrien gulped and shifted slightly, “I uh, I ran away from home to join the military then… Shiganshina happened.”

“And you chose here?” Chloe asked in disgust, Adrien frowning at her in annoyance. “How ridiculous. Well, you seem to have made an…” she looked around in distain, “odd group of friends, especially this broken little doll here.” She said with a sly smirk, leaning towards Marinette who just glared at her, Adrien’s hand gripping onto Marinette’s shirt slightly.

“Can you just go away, Chloe.” Marinette spoke up, frowning at her, anger filling her body. She was no little doll, and she wasn’t broken. “And I am no doll.” She glared at her, her blue eyes darkening and narrowing as she felt her body fill with power.

“Oh no…” Alya whispered, her eyes wide as she gripped the edge of the table.

Chloe looked a little taken aback but brushed it off quickly, throwing her head back and laughing, “Ooh, someone is a brave one!” She leant over, her face inches from Marinette’s who didn’t even flinch, her face dark and her patience wearing thin.

“Marinette… don’t.” Alya warned in a hiss, Adrien looked at her, his brows furrowed in confusion. Marinette’s face changed suddenly, becoming completely emotionless as she stared up at Chloe from under her eyelashes. “Marinette…”

“So, tell me, how did you get your scar, little doll.” Chloe smirked, her eyes narrowing.

“From a titan.” She replied in a calm voice, whispers starting around them, she hadn’t even realised that everyone was watching them, the room uncomfortably quiet. “How did you get yours?” Marinette asked with a tilt of her head as Alya dropped her head into her hand with a groan, shaking her head. Nino and Adrien looking at her in confusion before looking back at the girls.

Chloe frowned and looked confused by the question, “What? I don’t have a-” before she could finish her sentence, at lightning speed Marinette headbutted Chloe who screamed and fell back, hands going to her face. Adrien held his hands up as it happened, moving back slightly to give Marinette room.

Marinette just stared at her, as she screamed and cried on the floor, blood dripping onto the dirty floors, expressionless and completely unphased. The boys stared at her in complete shock, Adrien’s eyes wide and their jaws slack. They stared at her like she had grown another head, they really weren’t expecting that to happen.

Marinette wiped whatever was on her forehead off on her sleeve as if nothing had happened and picked up her plate and mug. Alya lifted her head with a frown and did the same. The room was silent, Chloe’s crying on the floor as she cradled her broken, bleeding nose, whinging out a few words that sounded like “ridiculous” every now and then. Everyone watched Marinette as she stood up, stepped over Chloe and walked to put her plates down in the kitchen to be washed calmly, Alya following close behind with hunched shoulders and a bitter expression.

She exited the kitchen and looked around, everyone was looking at her in complete awe still, it made her feel extremely uncomfortable but she still showed nothing on her face. She waved to Nino and Adrien goodnight before the girls walked out, Adrien and Nino watching them go with heir mouths hanging open still, Adrien’s handheld up in a wave goodbye.

“Did you have to do that?” Alya asked with a small laugh, looking up at the stars above them as they walked back to the girls courters.

“No, but she pissed me off. So, I did.” Marinette said plainly, looking up as well as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Maybe now she won’t call me Scarface.”

“I think you just pissed her off more than anything.” Alya laughed, tucking her hands in her pockets. “Still, I’m impressed. Nora’s lessons seem to have paid off.”

Marinette smiled her crooked smile, looking over at Alya, “seems like it.” Alya smiled back at her before she grinned maliciously, hiking up her skirt.

“Race you!” Alya said before taking off running, Marinette gasped before grinning as well, the familiar tug on her mouth feeling good for once, hiking up her own skirt and taking off after Alya. Their laughter filled the air, Marinette letting her hands go up in the air as she got there first, laughing with all her heart. She stopped herself on the railing on the stairs, panting between laughs.

“Yes! And Dupain-Cheng has taken the win!” She cheered, punching a fist in the air mid jump, grinning fully. Alya was bent over, laughing as she panted, waving her hand at Marinette dismissingly.

Marinette laughed and looked back towards where they had come from and saw Adrien watching her, a smile on his face. She blinked as she tried to catch her breath, tucking her hair behind her ear again as she blushed, watching him for a moment, her smile dropping back to her normal small smile as she realised he had seen her crooked smile.

“He likes you.” Alya interrupted her thoughts, Marinette looking back at her.

“What? Don’t be ridiculous.” Marinette said with a raised brow, turning and starting up the stairs, shaking her head.

“Ridiculous? Marinette, are you blind?” She asked with a snort, skipping up the steps two at a time and pushing the door open to their courters. There was one girl curled up in bed already, but other than that they were alone in their shared room. “That boy looks at you like you can do no wrong.” Alya flung back onto the bed below her hard bed, frowning and punching the mattress.

“You are looking too much into it, Alya.” Marinette sat on the bed below her own bunk next to Alya’s, bending down and undoing her boots. “The last time he saw me I was eleven, I was a kid.”

“And now you’re not a kid anymore, you’re thirteen now.” Alya joked, lifting her head and wiggling her eyebrows at Marinette who blushed and looked away. “Work those new hips, hell, you even grew a bit!” Marinette frowned at her, “I knew you at eleven, you have changed.” Alya smirked and rolled off the bed. “Oh, come on! How do you not see it?”

“Because there is nothing to see!” Marinette exclaimed, standing up and placing her boots in her wooden locker. “He probably just feels a bit protective of me because of what we went through together.” Marinette looked back at her best friend, letting a laugh out at Alya’s flabbergasted face.

“A little?” Alya sat straight up, pushing her boots off with the end toes. “I swear the look that boy had when she-witch started on you, I thought he was gonna headbutt her himself.” She started undoing her vest and snorted, “then you went and did it yourself.”

Marinette couldn’t help but chuckle at that, “it was kind of funny.” She said as she pulled her shirt off, standing in her plain cream bra. She put the shirt away and pulled out her night dress. Alya laughing away behind her as she got out of her own clothes. “She got in my face, it’s not my fault.” She said as she wriggled out of her skirt and bra, pulling the pink dress on.

“Exactly, but, I mean, you don’t exactly look like the kind of person who goes around headbutting people.” Alya pointed out as she pulled on her dark brown dress. Marinette shrugged at that, if people didn’t suspect she could headbutt them because of her size then that is their problem really.

“Well, if they underestimate me then it’s their problem,” She said, climbing up onto the top bunk, slipping into the hard bed, rolling over and watching Alya slip into the top bunk next to her. “Besides, I was only making a first impression.” She said with an evil grin.

Alya laughed and rolled her eyes, “girl, they have no idea what they are messing with when it comes to you.” She joked, looking over with golden eyes. “And they better watch out, I don’t need to protect you, you got that down.”

Marinette giggled and snuggled in, the girls’ chatter filling the air as they entered. “Goodnight Alya,” she said, “I can’t believe we are really here.”

“I know… Let’s hope it’s worth something. Night, girl.”

oOo

“What the fuck do you call that? Are you even fucking trying, cadet?” The commandant screamed at a boy named Ivan who hung upside down from his ODM gear, whining slightly and kicking his legs about.

Marinette watched from her own area as her nerves were getting the best of her. She was up soon. Adrien had passed with flying colours which wasn’t surprising, the past week he had excelled in almost everything, and so he was standing to help the others, smiling kindly to everyone. Alya stood in front of her, silent for once, her hands trembling slightly.

It had been a week already and all of their bodies ached from the harsh physical training the commandant put them through. Marinette was sure he got a kick out of making them throw up from physical exertion. Alya was suffering more than Marinette currently, she was sore and, to top it off, she was missing home. A double whammy for her. She had spent the night in Marinette’s bed, crying and clinging to her best friend. She knew what was coming today, the omni-mobility directional gear test. They were both nervous, they had heard stories from Adrien that if you didn’t pass it over the week then you get sent home, most likely to work in the fields.

They wore straps all over their body, starting from the soles of their feet, going up their legs connecting to their red sash around their waist which was attached to a belt, which then connected to the harness strapped over their lower back, connecting to the padded straps going over their shoulders with a strap across their chest. They were made to keep their bodies in the air with full body motion while using their gear. It was effective but needed extreme training to be used to its full potential. That was why the training was three years. The level of fitness they needed to use it effectively intimated Marinette, she was small and light which would be an advantage to her but the muscle strength she would need to build up would take a while, and she was scared she wasn’t strong enough.

She looked over at Adrien who was smiling happily, cheering on the girl who was currently strapped in, she knew he would be fine, he was incredibly strong and had a huge advantage from living with the scouts all this time. She wished she had done more training with Alya’s sister after she had recovered, it would have helped today.

“Césaire! I’m watching you today!” The commandant yelled as he stalked over, his sunken eyes staring her down with a scowl on his face, Alya jumped and trembled more under his gaze. Soon he was standing there watching, Adrien shuffling slightly, glancing at Marinette who shrugged. “Are you going to mess this up just like you did in the run yesterday?”

“No sir!” Alya stepped forward, gulping as she was being strapped to the stable build. It was a three wooden pole structure with the wires hanging in the middle connected to a crank, they were required to be able to stay stable easily off the ground, hanging there with control. Many had failed already, not being able to stable themselves and in turn got screamed at by the commandant and degraded in front of their peers. Alya was now strapped in, facing the commandant who was glaring. Adrien started on the crank, lifting her up, her feet leaving the ground slowly. She wobbled, squeaks leaving her mouth as she struggled to stay up, her mouth screwed up and her eyes wide.

“Go Alya! You got this!” Nino cheered behind Marinette, throwing a fist in the air.

Alya struggled but soon was hanging, her body eventually relaxing and a wide smile appeared on her face, looking at Marinette for confidence who gave her a thumbs up. They had to hang there for a few minutes before getting off. Nino cheered and slung an arm over Marinette’s shoulders, leaning down from next to her, “you got this too.” He whispered with a smile, he knew how nervous she was so she smiled small and nodded. Over the past week the four of them had become close, Marinette finding a level of trust in Nino like she did in an older sibling, it was calming.

“You think?” She asked softly, looking up at Nino.

“Oh yeah, dudette, you have this down! It’s just about getting used to it.” He smiled confidently, he had already passed, looking almost bored when he hung there, even when the commandant screamed at him to wake up.

Alya was soon unstrapped and skipped over to them, beaming from ear to ear. The Commandant nodded and looked to the side, eyes narrowing as he glared, “Priss! What the fuck is that form?” He said before storming off to the next victim.

Adrien watched the Commandant leave with a raised brow and a slight frown, then turned to Marinette and grinned as she walked towards him. “M’lady.” His confidence with her had grown over the past few days, coming up with a nickname for her and showing a side of him that was very playful and sarcastic. She chuckled softly whenever it showed up, smiling with a tilt of her head as he held out his hand. She eyed it but felt eyes on her so she kept her complexion again and low fived his hand instead. She stepped forward and was strapped to the device. “Good luck.” He whispered before he moved eyes, their eyes meeting before he started the crank.

Marinette took a deep breath and closed her eyes briefly. She felt her feet lift the floor and she clenched her body. Her muscles started working, muscles she never thought existed as she swayed and almost fell backwards, a squeak falling from her lips as her eyes flew open, her hands going out to the sides as she tried to stabilise.

“Mari!” Adrien called out. She felt more eyes watching her, causing the commandant to turn his death stare on her. Shit! Don’t come over here!

“I’m fine, Agreste!” She called out, determination all over her face, her muscles tightening and she caught herself at the last second. She felt the straps pull on her body, adjusting to the feel. She gasped softly, she felt strong up there, feeling power flow through all the limbs. She looked up, relaxing her limbs as she felt the tug against the soles of her feet at the change of the position. She closed her eyes and let her body hang, enjoying the wind blowing through her hair. She got used to the feel of it and suddenly it was easy. She took a deep breath, opening her eyes to meet the commandant. Her look of confidence falling as her eyes widened.

“Dupain-Cheng, feeling comfy up there?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at her.

“Yes sir!” She cried out, gulping and straightening slightly.

“No surprises this time?” He stepped forward, raising a brow.

“No, sir!” She called out, sweat starting on the back of her neck.

“Good, now keep your fucking eyes open and focus!” He screamed, making her flinch and call out another yes sir. She expected him to walk away but he watched her, his dark, empty eyes watching every movement she made, she gulped and glanced at Adrien who was frowning. He gave her an encouraging thumbs up before looking back over at the commandant.

The commandant watched her for a few minutes before finally moving on, Marinette letting out a sigh in relief as she relaxed. She was slowly lowered, feeling the hard surface under her boots. Adrien ran to her side, “damn, what is his deal?” He whispered, frowning as he fiddled with the clips on Marinette’s waist. “I swear he gets angrier by the day.” Adrien looked over at the Commandant who had a recruit almost in tears, holding him upside down by the ankle, screaming in his face.

“Shush, he might hear you.” She warned, smacking his arm, frowning at him, looking anxiously back at the commandant in fear he had heard Adrien. The last person to say something like that ended up running until the sun set with a bag full of rocks, and they had found him passed out on the field the next morning. She didn’t want to be punished, especially with how her body was feeling.

“Ow! Alright!” He frowned and pouted a little at her, “it’s just he never lays off.” Adrien sighed, starting on the second clip.

“He’s our Commandant, he does it for a reason. You of all people know what the titans are like. They are going to be a lot worse when they are trying to eat us.” She whispered, frowning at how casual he was about it. “Watch how loud you say that stuff, we don’t need more punishments.” She hissed as she looked up at him, their eyes locking as his hand brushed her waist. She felt the clip fall away as they stood there in silence, frowning at each other, inches between them as Adrien looked down at her with furrowed brows.

Someone cleared their throat and they both blinked, stepping away from each other, Marinette powerwalking back to Alya who was smirking at her, her arms folded across her chest as she wiggled her eyebrows. “Don’t.” Marinette warned as she stood next to Alya, turning and looking away when Adrien glanced at them, a blush covering her cheeks.

“Wanna talk about what that was?” Alya nudged her. “Lovers quarrel?”

“We aren’t lovers, stop that.” She frowned, blushing brightly, “I don’t get how he can be so casual about stuff, we both went through hell, we know what is out there, yet he can complain about the commandant when he is right over there. Not everyone is as fit as he is.” She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest, hearing the commandant screaming at another person in the background. Marinette knew she could be a little serious a lot of the time but she didn’t want to get in trouble or get on the bad side of the commandant because of someone else.

“Girl, you are too serious at times!” Alya nudged her while laughing, “lighten up!”

“Alya’s right, dudette!” Nino piped up, walking over and resting his arm on Alya’s shoulder, smiling lazily down at them. “You are way too grown up for someone so small, you just gotta take it one step at a time!” He gave her a toothy grin, Marinette’s frown falling. “And with Adrien, I think he’s just a confident dude, he did spend the last year and a half with the scouts.” Nino shrugged, “he can do most of this stuff with his eyes closed.”

“Yeah… Lucky for some.” Marinette muttered looking back at Adrien who wasn’t smiling anymore, instead watching the other cadets closely as they hung. “He is very confident, isn’t he?”

“He seems to be more confident around you, to be honest” Nino said before he stretched his arms up, everything about him screamed relaxed and laid back, Marinette was jealous of it. “It’s like you’re his lucky charm.”

Marinette rolled her eyes and huffed, she knew they were right but she wasn’t in the wrong for taking this seriously, she looked away, her expression darkening. A flash of that big smile made her flinch, chewing her lip gently, her fringe falling over her eyes as she closed them. She knew what was out there, she knew the threat so she wouldn’t apologise for how serious she was. Another flash of a boulder crushing someone in front of her, blood everywhere. She opened her eyes and stared at the floor, her arms that were crossed over her chest were now hugging herself gently, her hand lifting and tracing her scar. She didn’t care if he could act so nonchalant, she wouldn’t act like that.

“I won’t apologise for being serious.” She said softly, Alya and Nino watching her, a worried look on Alya’s face. “I watched people die, I was almost eaten by a titan and I almost died running for my life. So, I won’t apologise for taking this seriously so I stay alive.” She looked over at them, “so if he gets us in trouble by opening that sarcastic mouth of his then I won’t be very ‘chill’.”

“It’s okay, girl, you don’t need to explain it to us. If he does, I’ll kick his ass for you.” Alya joked, Marinette smiling small and chuckling softly. “Now, come on, lets focus on the lesson.”

oOo

“Leave the horses! Release ODM gear! Now!” Plagg screamed, jumping onto the horses back, releasing his wire and flinging himself towards the wall, the rest of the soldiers following suit. Adrien growled as he hit the wall, running up it and sending his wires further up. He had to get up there, the bodies at the base of the wall had garrison uniform, a lot of them his former classmates. It was happening again, how was it happening again, it had been five years, how was this happening again!?

He flung himself up and skidded onto the top of the wall, Marinette landing next to him gracefully, her face thunder, her blades drawn. Soon all of the scouts were on top of the wall, looking over the titan infested town. Adrien gasped and widened his eyes. There were dead bodies everywhere, giant boulders littered throughout the town and so many buildings were destroyed. They had taken too long to get here. He looked over and saw soldiers littered on rooftops, they must mostly be the cadets.

“Shit!” He heard Marinette curse, gripping her blades tighter. “They’ve run out of gas!” She called out, “The supply building is overrun!” She pointed to the castle like building, at least 6 titans climbing on it or around it. “That must be why they are not moving from the rooftops! If they had gas the safest place for them would be on the walls!”

“You’re right, shit,” Plagg cursed, “okay, clear the area as best you can! And none of you fucking die! That’s an order! We didn’t mostly survive outside the wall to die in our city!” He called before he dived off the wall.

Marinette looked over and nodded at Adrien, he frowned as he noticed her face was blurry, what was wrong with his eyes? He blinked, watching as the 17 year old girl change between blinks, shrinking down to the small girl he knew 5 years ago. Her strong, developed body now a small skinny, frail body, her short pigtails now her long black curtains. “What…” He gasped, staggering back as she frowned at him, dropping her blades slightly.

“Adrien?” Her voice was higher pitched, softer, and she had no scar. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Adrien tripped and fell back, dropping his blades as they clattered on the stone, “M-Mari?” She blinked and walked over to him, kneeling down and placing a hand on his forehead, her soft, small hand feeling so foreign compared to her calloused hand he knew. She was so small, her long hair framing her face.

He cried out and scrambled back as suddenly her cheek started tearing open, a long wound opening where her scar is, but she wasn’t reacting, she just crouched there, watching him with empty eyes. Blood dripped to the floor, he watched it splatter in slow motion and suddenly he was falling. Marinette above him, he cried out and went to grab his gear but it was gone, he reached out for Marinette, he had to make sure she made it. “Marinette!” he cried out before something grabbed him, knocking the breath from his lungs.

He gasped and watched as Marinette fell straight into a Titans mouth, this titan was crouched on its haunches, blonde hair and an ugly face, bright blue eyes that looked evil and a mouth full of jagged, sharp teeth. The 17 year old Marinette now hanging half out of the jaw, staring at him with wide eyes, her ribbons falling from her hair. Adrien blinked before he screamed out, desperately reaching for her and fighting against the titan that had hold of him, tears streaming down his face.

He was pulled away and came face to face with the titan who had long black hair, no lips just teeth, a determined expression and piercing green eyes. He was glaring at Adrien, a first for him, seeing a titan with emotion besides hunger. The titan was at least 15 metres and had an extremely muscled body.

Why wasn’t he eating Adrien? What was going on?

“Wake up!” He heard a deep, rumbling voice from the titan, “wake up, Adrien! Remember what he did! Wake up!”

Adrien cried out and sat straight up in his sleeping bag, he was covered in sweat, his hair soaked and his shirt sticking to him. He was breathing heavily and shaking. What the hell was that?

“Adrien?” He gasped and looked to the side, meeting Marinette’s tired eyes. She was in her white long sleeve shirt and her white trousers, her messy hair down falling over her shoulders. It had grown over the few months since they had begun training, she constantly complained about it. “What’s wrong? Did you have a bad dream?” She asked, crawling over to him and sitting on his sleeping bag, avoiding the cold grass.

They were camped out on exercise in the Giant Forest deep within Wall Rose, it had been a long gruelling day training with their ODM gear and everyone was exhausted, their squad consisted of Nino, Alya, Marinette, Kim, Juleka, Luka, Alix and Rose. They were all asleep under the stars, spread out over their area, the embers still burning from their fire from hours before.

He gulped and tried to calm his breathing, nodding at her question. He pushed himself up to a more comfortable position and buried his face in his shaking hands, rubbing his face to wake himself up more. He felt a hand on his back, the feeling calming him.

“Y-yeah… It was… it was weird.” He whispered, moving his hands from his face and staring down at his calloused skin.

“Tell me about it.” She whispered, placing a hand over his, his eyes whipping up and meeting hers. He must have woken her up, “I find it helps when I talk about my nightmares, Alya says it helps take back control of a place that you had no control of.” She spoke softly, softer than her now more serious tone she had developed over the past few months. These moments were only for her close friends he had noticed.

He took a deep breath, examining her face. The dream flooding back with a gasp. “I saw… You.” She blinked, “but you were older, a little taller, you were… in a scouts uniform.” She frowned, “but that’s not the main thing, the titans had breached the wall and were in Trost. I got to the top of the wall and I saw you. And Plagg.” He looked away, “Everyone was dead, titans were everywhere.” He dropped his hands to the floor and clenched them, gripping the rough material of his sleeping bag, “you were staring at me and then… you changed… to 2 years ago.” She tilted her head, “you were so small, and… your scar just appeared but it was like you were being cut open and then…” He froze, his eyes widening as he remembered the titans. “There were titans…”

“You said they had infested Trost? So, I’m not surprised.” She whispered gently, bringing her knees to her chest and hugging them.

“They were different.” His voice shook slightly, “I… you were… eaten by one that I had never heard of, it’s nothing they have told us about in lectures. I saw you, the older you, being eaten. The titan was like a wild animal, it seemed to watch me, it seemed like it was… excited to eat you.” He gulped, “And I was grabbed by one…” He remembered looking at the titan, it seemed so familiar. “It told me to wake up and-“ he gasped, looking at her, “he told me to remember something.” He hissed, rubbing a hand over his mouth. “It felt so real.”

Marinette watched him worriedly before she laid a hand on his cheek, making him look at her, “hey, it was just a dream. The titans won’t get into Trost, and I have no ambition to get eaten, so don’t worry.” She smiled small, her tired eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that always made his heart jump. “And with those titans, we have been going through a lot of training and learnt a lot about the titans that we never knew over the past six months.” She smiled wider, one of her now rare smiles, making his heart jump even more and his eyes widen, “it’s just a dream, it’s not reality, so don’t worry, okay?”

Adrien looked at her with parted lips, thinking over her words before he gulped, his Adams apple bobbing, “yeah… you’re right.” He said looking back down at his hands, “it just… felt so real. Plagg was there.”

“Your brother?” She asked softly.

“Yeah, no one knows though so don’t say anything.” He said in a panic, looking around.

“I know, I haven’t said anything.” She replied, “Tikki told me in a letter about it.” Adrien blinked at her, “your secret is safe with me.”

He smiled, “thank you.” He said before taking a deep breath, “also thank you… for helping calm me down, I’m okay now.” He said, meeting her eyes.

She smiled and nodded, “no worries,” she said before she started to get back up. Adrien panicked and grabbed her arm gently, causing her to gasp and look back at him.

“Could… I’m sorry, I just… could you lie with me for a bit.” He asked softly, his eyes begging her softly.

Marinette looked at him in surprise before gulping and nodding, “okay, just for a bit though, okay?” She said before she crawled over, he instinctively opened the sleeping bag, surprising her. She took a deep breath and slipped in, lying on her side and facing him as he lay down, their faces inches from each other. “I’m here.” She whispered with a small smile.

“Thank you,” he whispered, looking into her eyes before he looked down at her scar, remembering his dream. He knew not to try touch her scar, someone had tried to a month before and she broke their arm in return, shocking everyone but her three friends, they had seen how tough she was. It honestly impressed Adrien, she was so small but so strong. “Can you promise me something?” He asked softly, meeting her eyes again.

“Depends.” She replied, making him chuckle at her usual seriousness.

“Just, promise me, if things get bad in the future you will make sure you survive.” He whispered, feeling her hand brush against him.

“What?” She frowned, “you know I can’t promise that.”

“You can though, no matter the situation, just… just try to survive, no matter what.”

She stared at him with a frown before she chewed her lip, “I will promise to do my best to survive, okay?”

He sighed in relief, his eyelids heavy, “okay. Thank you.” He replied with a smile.

They spoke for the next half hour before they both fell asleep, Adrien resting his cheek on Marinette’s head as she rested it on his shoulder unknowingly.

oOo

“Agreste!” Marinette heard someone yell, turning her attention to the trees in the distance in front and Nino, what was going on now. They had been out in the forest now for a week and tensions were high, they had slept on the hard floor and had hunted their own food. As of today, their supplies were running low and they all could use a nice shower, all of them now used to the smell of sweat and BO from each other. It had been a long week but this was their training. It was meant to make them bond, and it was working… For some people that was. “What the hell was that?”

Their squad was split up currently throughout the forest in pairs, Marinette was paired with Nino, Alya with Rose, Alix with Kim and Adrien with Luka. So far the pairs were working for the most part. Well, two pairs were anyway. They had been awake for over twenty four hours now as their training mission had gone on longer as no one had completed it, so everyone was on edge, some taking it harder than others. Nino and she had been working brilliantly together, they had found three of the hidden Titan props just that day and were confident in their abilities when slicing the napes. The only thing stopping their progress was the constant bickering echoing through the forest. If it wasn’t Kim winding up Alix over a competition it was Adrien and Luka surprisingly butting heads.

“Oh no, what now?” Nino groaned, turning to Marinette who was so done with all of the fighting currently that she was ready to abandon them in the giant trees and go find Alya with Nino. She was at her wits ends with the boys in the squad, well besides Nino who had stayed his normal calm self. The boys had seemed to have some pissing competition on who can piss her off the most today. Too much testosterone probably. Fucking boys. “Come on, let’s go see what’s going on.” He said before he flew into the air, Marinette sighing and releasing a wire, flying forward between the trees, her hair blowing backwards, and soon landing on a large branch, looking forward and seeing Adrien and Luka in each other’s faces. Again.

She sighed and curled her lip up in distain, she got that the titan props were really hard to find and you were being graded individually despite the pairings, but if you worked together you could even them out and each still earn good grades. So, this behaviour wasn’t accepted in her books. With clenched fists she looked at the pathetic show of masculinity in front of her.

“What? I took a shot, that’s what we are meant to do!” Adrien argued, frowning at the older boy. Luka was taller than Adrien, and bigger, but he was a gentle soul who rarely got angry or seemed threatening. So, seeing him like this, his face thunder, his blue eyes full of rage with black bags under them and his teeth gritting together was a weird sight. Even seeing Adrien so angry was odd, his hair was a mess, and his green eyes were narrowed, a scowl on his face, almost like when a child had a tantrum, but in this case the children had flesh slicing blades. Nino just rolled his eyes and let out a groan.

“You jumped in front of me! I could have hit you!” Luka replied through gritted teeth, his knuckles white as he gripped onto the handle of his blades tighter.

“Well, you should look around before jumping into action then.” Adrien frowned and sheathed his blades into the heavy metal carriers on his waist.

Marinette rolled her eyes and jumped over to the branch, stepping in the middle as Nino pulled Adrien aside. She turned and looked up at Luka with a hand on his chest, frowning at him, “Luka, come on, this is ridiculous now. We need to stay calm. We can’t be fighting over every single prop we find!” She said firmly, Luka’s expression softening as he looked down at her. “We are all tired, okay?” She turned and saw Adrien glaring at them, Nino talking to him in hushed tones while glancing back at Marinette. “Adrien, calm down!” She scolded, “if the commandant saw this you two would be stuck out here just the two of you for another week to hash it out like dogs!”

Adrien huffed and shook off Nino, “sorry.” He muttered, looking away with a frown. Marinette eyed him, he did look very out of it today. She wondered if he had those nightmares again.

“It’s fine, let’s just get today over with, dude.” Nino replied, rubbing his shoulder. “My body needs a bath, even if I have to jump in the river, I don’t care, my body is beaten.” He moaned with a sigh.

“You need to be more careful, Adrien. It isn’t safe jumping out like that, it’s reckless.” Luka reprimanded, his older, wiser voice back to its calm self.

Adrien looked over at him before he shrugged, “sorry, I just want this day to be over.” He said with a sigh, looking over at Marinette with apologetic eyes. She swore if he had comedic animal ears, they would be drooping.

“We all do, dude, but you guys need to be chill, like dudette and me!” Nino said cheerfully, looking over at Marinette who nodded.

“Are you two going to work together or do we need to switch partners?” Marinette asked, looking between the teen boys. “Because I will hit the next person who pisses me off!” She threatened before they all froze, all of their eyes turning to the south as they heard someone coming on ODM gear, she heard it before she felt the boot to her chest, kicking her off the branch at high speed, the impact sending her spinning as she fell. She screamed as she started falling, they were 35 feet up, a fall from that high and she would be dead. Shit! Get control!

She swivelled her body to face up and release a wire but couldn’t make out a target without accidentally hitting someone. She heard the boys screaming her name but it was getting further and further. She looked down and saw a branch approaching, bracing for a hard impact but instead a solid body hit her from the side, knocking the wind from her lungs. She wrapped her arms around their arm as she was suddenly going back up, the forest whizzing around her. Before she knew it she hit solid wood and rolled on the large branch, skidding to a halt when she hit the tree, coughing as she did. She looked up and saw Nino crouched in front of her, blades drawn and his face twisted in anger, his lazy side gone in an instant.

“Not fucking cool, Chloe! You can fuck off too, Lila!” He yelled, slamming his blades together as a threat.

Marinette pushed up, coughing again as two bodies joined them on the new branch, Adrien at her side in seconds, skidding on his knees to her side and allowing her to rest against his shoulder as she hunched over in pain.

“What the fuck was that?” Luka asked as he looked around, his own blades drawn, glancing at Marinette with wide eyes.

“Fucking Chloe and Lila. We bumped into them earlier and took their titans, they were not pleased.” Nino growled, his golden eyes scanning for any possible threats. “Those bitches, Marinette, you okay?” He called back.

She coughed, “yeah… Give me a minute.” She answered, her hands clasped over her right side of her chest, a muddy footprint outlined on her jacket and shirt. “Son of a bitch.” She growled, Adrien rubbing her back gently, not saying a word.

“Next time you make some enemies, can it not be the two crazy chicks in our regiment, Marinette?” Luka called out with a frown, lowering his blades.

“Sorry.” She wheezed out, leaning back against the trunk behind her, shimmying her arm out of her jacket with Adrien’s help.

“Shit, she got you good.” He whispered as he gently pulled it off her arm, frowning as he saw some blood on her shirt. “I’ve gotta clean wherever she’s cut you, she must have gone down to the ground and got mud on her shoes on purpose, who knows what else was on that shoe.” He said, looking at her face. She nodded, wincing at the pain.

“With my luck she managed to find some horse crap or something.” She said before she coughed again, damn, she really did get her good. Adrien frowned as he examined her face with his worried green eyes, rubbing her back again. “Who knew getting kicked in the chest would hurt so much.” She joked, the boys looking over at her and chuckling, all besides Adrien. He reached over and undid the strap across her chest, starting to undo her shirt, Nino looking away as usual, not phased anymore, but it was Luka who blinked and went red.

“What the hell are you doing?” He questioned, turning away as Marinette’s skin was starting to show. All three of them looked at him in surprise. Marinette blinked and looked down, was he… embarrassed? She would have expected it at the beginning of their training but they were halfway through their first year, most of them had showered in their underwear together during a mission or at least gone swimming in a river three months ago when they were out in the field. They had got used to patching people up as well, hell just two months ago while on a training mission a cadet slipped off a branch above Marinette and cut her back in some dumb luck, Adrien was at her side in seconds like usual. He had patched her up, chatting away like his usual cheerful self as she sat in a bra, letting him chat away like an excited kitten. The cut on her back wasn’t serious enough to stop her training, but it was enough to bug her for a month.

“I’m patching her up?” Adrien said in confusion, his finger stopping on the third button, staring at the dark haired boy. “Wait, you have… done first aid on someone before, right?” He questioned with a chiding laugh. “Because if you need the practice…”

“Yes I have!” He snapped, “But not… on…” Luka trailed off with a gulp.

“A girl?” Marinette finished with a raised brow. Luka nodding, “how is that possible?” She asked with a wince as Adrien went back to back on undoing her shirt carefully, glancing over at his green eyes that were focused on the task at hand.

“I didn’t have any girls get injured around me… in that area,” he replied calmly, his back to them all. “It’s not that big a deal, okay?”

Nino shrugged, “don’t worry, after a while you get used to it,” he reassured him, sheathing his blades and sitting on the edge of the branch, swinging his legs. “Besides, the girls don’t care anymore, so chillax.” He said before stretching his arms out above him with a yawn.

Luka huffed before sitting down with his back to them, his knees bent in front of him. “are you okay, Marinette?”

Marinette had her shirt open now, her grey sports bra showing, brown stains forming from the mud. She had a few punctured from maybe some stones stuck in Chloe’s boot, but nothing serious, Adrien was cleaning her off gently, his fingers brushing against her soft skin. “Yeah, I’m okay. I can breathe again thankfully. She’s in the other squad, so why the hell is she all the way out here? Surely they didn’t come looking for us?” She asked before lifting her arm at Adrien’s instruction.

Nino looked around before looking back at Marinette, “they are crazy, remember. Once you’re all patched up I think we just finish the mission so we can get back.” He said, “I don’t like how confident they are in the trees.” He frowned and looked around again.

“It was a very bold move on her part.” Adrien spoke up, pulling Marinette’s bra strap to the side to stick a plaster over the one puncture wound, “it could have ended a lot more badly, if Nino hadn’t caught you…” He trailed off, the other two boys staying silent too.

“Don’t worry, let’s just get this mission done. I want my bed.” She replied, dropping her head back against the tree.

Soon they were on their feet again, Marinette’s shirt buttoned up and she was rolling her shoulder, the pain in her chest now more muscular than anything. She looked around the forest and turned to Nino, “okay, Nino, get the map out.” She said walking over to him, Luka and Adrien were pouting at each other in defiance behind them, not saying a word to each other.

Nino pulled out the map they had been given and they started strategizing their next move, deciding on a route and Marinette looked back at the two boys and sighed.

“Okay, seriously, stop with the dick measuring!” She called over, placing a hand on her hip and frowning at them.

“We aren’t-” Adrien started to protest.

“She’s right, dude.” Nino interrupted, he rubbed his black bagged eyes and frowned, “Mari, I will take Luka, you go with Adrien, let’s just get this done.” He was getting frustrated, she could tell. Probably that they had to split up as partner more than the other boys causing problems.

“What? Why?” Luka protested with a frown, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’m fine with that.” Adrien said with a cocky smile, looking over at Marinette who watched them all with annoyed eyes. Luka turned and glared at Adrien, pouting slightly.

“Whatever, come on Adrien.” Marinette said, placing a hand on Nino’s arm and smiling apologetically, who responded with the same look. Dammit! Her best partner to date and she had lost him. Well, she was yet to be partner’s with Adrien so let’s see how it goes.

“Okay, I will see you guys back at camp. Look out for crazy bitches.” Nino said before he called for Luka, flying off to the east together.

Marinette turned to Adrien who was looking sheepish now, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at him.

“I can explain.” He said, holding his hands up in surrender. “I got carried away, and I’m sorry!” He squeaked as Marinette walked towards him, her eyes dark. “M-Mari?” He blinked. She stood in front of him for a few seconds before she smacked his arm, “ow!” He cried out in protest, rubbing his arm and frowning at her.

“What the hell, Adrien!” She exclaimed, “why are you acting like Kim today of all days?” She questioned with a frown. “Best not to threaten the guy bigger than you who has blades, ya know!”

“Hey, I had blades too.” He pouted, crossing his arms over his chest.

“That isn’t the point, I know you are tired, but we all are, okay?” She said with a sigh, looking up at him. “I don’t want to have to save you constantly. You have a bad habit of getting in the way of danger.” Her face softened, thinking of him going the extra mile to help and save others the past six months during the ODM training.

He sighed and rubbed the back on his neck, “I’m sorry, M’lady.” He said before he chewed his lip, thinking for a moment before pulling out the map, “now, where to next?”

oOo

“Marinette!” Alya spotted her as her and Adrien landed a little way from the meeting point. They looked exhausted, a footprint standing out on the right side of her chest. Marinette had her usual annoyed expression on her face, dark black eyes as she started towards Alya and Nino, and Adrien was his usual excited puppy, a smile on his face as he waved at them happily, he had a bruise on his jaw and his hair was a shaggy mess.

Marinette lifted her eyes and spotted Alya, smiling an exhausted smile. Alya ran over to her and hugged her tight, Marinette yelping and curling her back slightly. “Ouch.” She winced.

“Oh, sorry, Nino told me what happened.” She said pulling away, walking with them as Nino and Adrien bumped fists.

“Calmed down now, dude?” He asked Adrien who laughed and nodded.

Alya turned and smacked Adrien on the arm, causing him to look at her flabbergasted, “Ow! Can you two stop hitting me today?” He exclaimed, rubbing his arm, looking at them in bewilderment.

“You were meant to protect her!” She growled, hugging her best friend close and glaring at Adrien.

“She was Nino’s partner!” He exclaimed, motioning to a laughing Nino. “Sorry I wasn’t on the watch for flying crazy girls!”

“I’m fine, Alya.” Marinette spoke up, poking the arm around her face. “Can you let go now?” She asked, Alya blinking and letting her go. “Doesn’t matter now, Nino had me. Now let’s go.” She said, rolling her shoulder again and walking to the others.

The commandant arrived minutes later, everyone jumping to their feet and coming to attention, their fists over their hearts.

“Well, look at you.” He started, “you all smell like shit.” He curled his lip in disgust, walking between them. “I have been watching you the past week, and I was not surprised by how disappointing you all are.” He glared at them all, eyes falling on Marinette, “some excelled, some were god damn awful, and some, well, some missed the point of the exercise all together! I will give you your grades tomorrow in lesson, understood?”

“Yes, sir!” They called out.

“Now, you all stink, you aren’t coming back to my base smelling like this. There is a lake east of here, wash up and then head back. I expect you all home by 2100hrs.” He said before he walked over to his horse, climbing on and looking back at them. “And, no more of your childish bickering! I saw enough to last me a lifetime this week!” He said before he galloped off.

They all relaxed and made their way to the horses grazing, this was only Marinette’s class which consisted of 2 squadrons. Marinette preferred it this way as she wasn’t used to the other class just yet. She made her way to her horse and climbed on, stroking his mane. Soon they were all heading to the lake, all excited to get clean. Marinette looked over the big green world around her, the orange sky making it all look so peaceful.

“Hey, Marinette!” Alya called, bringing her out of her daze, looking over at her friend. “Race you.” She grinned, Marinette grinning back before kicking the side of her horse, feeling the wind blow through her hair as they both charged forward, giggling in joy.

Not fifteen minutes later they arrived, hopping off their horses and tying them up. They both stood there with wide eyes, looking over the blue, sparkling lake.

“Wow…” Alya breathed before their serenity was interrupted by Adrien and Nino barrelling past them in their underwear, shoving each other and laughing before jumping into the lake, water splashing everywhere as the girls tried to avoid getting wet.

They both chuckled as others started jumping in, it was rare they had this kind of freedom to act like teenagers, so when it came, they took advantage. Marinette quickly discarded her ODM gear and started undoing her shirt, her body buzzing with excitement to relax in the water. She pulled it off and shoved it into the bag on her saddle, wriggling out of her white trouser until she was in just her grey sports bra and her black boy short underwear, unravelling the bandaged on her chest, leaving just the ones stuck to her on. Alya was next to her in the same but hers were black completely. Both of them took their hair down before they ran and jumped in, the boys splashing them as they came up.

Marinette laughed and went under again, enjoying the cold water on her aching body, her eyes closed as she felt her hair brushing against her skin as it floated about. This was bliss to her. She came back up and pushed her hair back, looking at her friends with a laugh. It was funny, just 6 months ago she was scared to show off her scar, now here she was, skin showing, and she didn’t care. It was amazing what confidence and trust in your comrades could do. She looked over and spotted Luka with his friends, Kim, Ivan and Alix. He seemed to be more relaxed which was good, he looked over and spotted her, smiling and waving at her. She waved back before she was splashed with water, her hair falling over her face.

She spun around and saw Alya grinning at her as she pushed her hair back again, laughing softly. It was like that for a while, but soon Marinette was floating on her back, staring up at the sky. The orange had started to turn pink, some stars shining through in defiance. It was beautiful. It was a place of peace.

“Hey.” She heard a voice say next to her, turning her head and spotting Adrien. He was standing next to her, his shoulders above the water. “How’s your chest?” He asked softly as she floated back to up right, she couldn’t stand so she had to tread water.

“A little sore but it feels a lot better now.” She replied, rubbing a hand over the now dark bruise over the right side of her chest, “I’ll live.” She joked, bobbing up and down.

“Good, just keep an eye on it, and be careful of Chloe and Lila, they really have it out for you.” He said worriedly before noticing she couldn’t stand, “here.” He said before holding his arm out for her to hold on to. She blinked before placing both her hands on his warm skin, using his arm to stay afloat better. “Better?”

“Yeah, thank you… And I’m not too worried about them, they will get theirs.” She said looking over at the girls who were whispering to each other, scowls on their faces. She knew they hated how close she was to Adrien, Lila countless times mentioning how she was a better friend for Adrien, Marinette knew they both had crushes on him too. Hell, most of the girls in the regiment did.

“Still, I don’t like having to keep patching you up,” he smiled sweetly at her, his brows creased slightly, “you have a habit of getting hurt, for someone who graceful in the air you sure are clumsy.”

She laughed softly at that, his cheeks going red when she did, “what can I say, I just have a clumsy side when I’m not in fight mode. Maybe I have two sides to me, like alter egos.” She joked, “I mean you have it, outside of training or when you aren’t with me you’re this sweet, can do no wrong guy, but put your uniform on and give you your weapons and this confident cocky side comes out.” She teased, poking his nose.

He blinked before he smirked and leant forward, “Is that so, M’lady? I haven’t heard you complain about it.”

She rolled her eyes and laughed, “see, there it is. You’re like… hmmm,” she thought, “you’re like a cat, one minute you’re nice, and the next you are ready to fight dirty.” She smirked as he raised a brow.

“Are you calling me a cat?” He asked in confusion.

“Hmm, yes, yes I am.” She said confidently, the water lapping at her neck. “I think I might just call you kitty from now on. Seeing as you have your nickname for me.” She smirked even more at her frown.

He frowned as he thought for a minute before he smiled brightly, “I love it! M’lady has a nickname and now so do I.” He leant in closer with a smirk, “quite the pair, aren’t we?” He wiggled his eyebrows at her while she frowned at him before she shoved his head under water playfully watching him come back up with his shaggy hair covering his eyes as he pouted, her laugh filling the air. “No fair!” She carried on laughing as he pushed his hair back into a mess, pouting at her before he tackled her, arms wrapping around her body as he pushed her under, pushing up on the ground and emerging with her over his shoulder on shallower ground, walking to Alya and Nino who were laughing at the scene in front of them.

Adrien grinning victoriously as Marinette smacked Adrien’s toned back to put her down, water from her hair over her eyes. He soon lifted her up again and placed her on his knee as he sat next to Nino, a smug look on his face. “I won.” He said, Marinette pouting at him with her arms across her chest, perching on his bent knee, blushing slightly at their bodies being so close. She looked over at her friends and felt peace, it had been a long six months, but… this made it all worth it. She was happy, and she belonged. She looked at Adrien who was watching her, she blinked and poked his nose again, smiling at him finally.

“Ease there, kitty.” She said softly, “don’t get too excited.” He blinked before smiling a sweet smile at her, making her heart skip a beat.

26 notes · View notes

roses-ruby · 5 years ago

Text

sinner;

Jungkook x Female Reader

Genre: Cop AU, An onslaught of Angst, Thriller, Mature

Warnings: Obsessive/Possessive behavior, Toxic relationships, Yandere, Stalking, Emotional and Physical abuse, MiSoGYny, Violence, Bad parents, Bad cops, Kidnapping

Word Count: 11,000

Summary: No matter where you run, the past will find you.

The dark clouds approached along the light blue fabric of the sky.

You watched them from your car window, dreading the downpour you’d have to drive home through tonight. With a sigh, you open the door and step out of your 2012 Hyundai Accent, planting your soles firmly onto the cemented parking lot. Your rustic car shakes with the loss of weight and the door creaks at the hinges once you slam it shut.

Somehow the old you had managed to entertain yourself with the thought that receiving a promotion would ultimately be able to afford you a better car, but no – you were stuck with the same failing engine, same worn out tires, same chipped paint aside the right headlight and occasional oil leaks.

Old you was a fool, you think, placing your hands in your coat pocket and walking towards the station in a swift, rigid pace. The air was chilly, and the strong breeze hit your face in unpleasant streaks. You kept your head down, arms clinging to the sides of your body to warm you up. There were barely any people outside the station, just a couple of men in blue quickly ensuring victims or witnesses. Years on the force had given you the eye to spot the differences between your average citizen and a perp with ease.

Perps always had an emptiness in their gaze. A vacant spot that erased their crime from their own mind. Defense mechanism they call it. You weren’t a stranger to that emotion yourself.

With no time to waste, you rush up the steps. As you pull the door of the station open, your ears are immediately filled with chatter, paper clatter and ringing phones. More importantly your body is filled with warmth. Like it was memorized in your head, you sift through the desks and file cabinets with ease, trudging past several rushing bodies on your way to a hallway down the right. Reaching the end of the corridor, you see the four men you were expecting through the clear glass window in front of their room. They were laughing at something one of them had said, a laughter that came to a full stop the moment you burst into the chief’s office.

All eyes were on you.

“There you are, detective! Right on time.” The chief, a charismatically aged character, calls out your last name as he leans back in his creaky leather chair.

“Not like she has anything better to do…” Hyun, the Sergeant’s younger partner, remarks underneath his breath.

“It’s my day off chief…this better be good.”

“Why? Did you have a date?” You catch Hyun’s sarcastic eyes before he bursts into a fit of laughter at your unamused face.

“Like you ever get laid.” Jimin scoffs at him with a raised eyebrow from the opposite side of the room.

“Motherfucker I got laid last night!” Hyun shouts like that was the funniest thing he’s said while Jimin holds back his growing smile.

“Yeah? Your asshole still hurt?” Sarge slams Hyun in the back as they all break out into mutual cackles. Hyun fights back by pushing his older partner into a cabinet while making derogatory remarks.

You try not to scowl at the suffocating testosterone in the air as you watch the boys play around.

“All right, all right, quiet down.” The chief shouts, rubbing his forehead wrinkles with his fingers and looking back at you like he suddenly remembered you exist. “___- uh…we got a little situation for you.”

He reaches to the left of his desk and picks up a file before throwing it up ahead on the table. There was a sudden coating of thick silence around the room as your eyes roam from the detectives scrutinizing you, back to the thick manilla folder thrown out in front of you. You carefully walk up to where the file laid, picking it up and examining the name on the small name card clipped at the top left.

“Jeon Jungkook?”

You question in surprise. Your orbs fly from the chief’s empty face to the white name card.

“How much do you know about Jeon?” The chief asks slowly. You recognize that tone of voice. That tone you’ve witnessed multiple times in interrogation with a suspect. The aura in the room felt strange.

You drop the file to your side so you can look the chief right in the eyes.

“What do you mean? I know that he’s the most accomplished assassin-for-hire to this date. I know that he has his dirty hands everywhere across the East. I know that he’s responsible for Asia’s most influential triad trade. I know that he’s taken down too many of our own and I know he should be jammed into a cage for the rest of his life, chief.”

The chief exhaled, some tension leaving his facial features as he leans further back in his chair and shuts his eyes. You studied the man in pity. Was this how you were bound to end up in a few years? Bald, stressed, only black coffee in your system, suspicious of everyone and everything with a failing marriage and kids who won’t speak to you?

Half of that was actually how you lived like right now.

“I’m sorry, ___. You know how many rumors there are of officers under Jeon’s thumb. Patrollers, lieutenants, even agents…they are all chummy with that bastard. I can’t help but be careful.”

“What do you mean? What does this have to do with me, chief?” You furrowed your eyebrows, still not understanding what was happening or why you were called in on your day off for an ‘urgent’ matter.

“We caught him.” Sarge interjects, “Tip came in this morning about a deal in the abandoned mill off the northwest. He surrendered as soon as we showed up, no casualties.”

You couldn’t stop your mouth from dropping. Did you hear that correctly? Jeon Jungkook, who had been on the world’s most wanted list for 6 years now just happened to be caught in your city, at the abandoned mill in the middle of the day? It was hard to believe but Sarge didn’t seem like he was joking.

“T-that’s great…w- is he in custody right now? Here?”

“He is. But we have a problem though…” You look back at the chief who was staring right at you. “He won’t talk.”

“I mean we expected that, right? He did the same thing in Hong Kong. Wha- is...is he pleading the fifth or-”

“That’s the thing, he surrendered but didn’t make any attempts to cooperate, he’s just been sitting stationary on his ass for 3 hours. The deputy had to phone it in as soon as he got here, so Kane’s bound to show up at any minute. They’ll take him away to some fucking facility and we’ll just have to stick out our tongues and wag our tails while the big boys do the real work. Damn! We couldn’t find jack shit when raiding the fucking mill!” The chief rambled, still massaging his forehead like he had a headache. “And that deadly weapon expert? All he had on him was an old handkerchief.”

He snorted but there was no amusement in his voice. But suddenly his vigor died down and his eyes stared off into the distance.

“…There’s only one thing he said the entire time he’s been in that interrogation room.”

“…What did he say?” You ask carefully, noticing the way everyone present was glaring holes into you.

“He said he’ll only speak to you.” The chief leans towards you, placing his elbows on his desk with his eyes slightly squinting and an unspoken question on his lips.

Suddenly the room turns cold and you feel like you were outside in that freezing chill once again. Your mind runs a mile a minute and your skin breaks out into goosebumps. It all makes sense just then. The threatening atmosphere, the stare downs, the discerning. They all had one question staining their mind. Why would the world’s most powerful hitman and black arms dealer want to talk to some random low-grade rookie detective?

Hell, you didn’t know yourself.

“Me? Why would he want to speak to me?”

“He said he knows you.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from scoffing. That was ridiculous. If you met someone like Jeon Jungkook before, you would remember it…wouldn’t you?

“Chief, I’m telling you, I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

“Then how could he know your full name?” Hyun interrupts

You glare at him from your position in the middle of the room. “How am I supposed to know dumbass?”

He smirks, his disgusting gaze sharpening. “Maybe he just knows how to sniff out the cunts.”

“Watch your fucking mouth Hyun.” Jimin steps between you both in a flash. He was facing away from you, but you could tell he was pissed by how he clenched his fists. Hyun scoffs, the corner of his lips picking up.

“I sniff two.”

It all happens in the blink of an eye. Jimin tries to leap at him but you barely manage to hold your partner back by the shoulder. Smart mouth also gets up from where he was leaning before Sarge rushes up to the younger. They both glare at each other like they were ready to kill while you grimace looking at each of their loaded holsters. The fact that these men were allowed to open carry was the most terrifying part.

“Enough!” The chief shouts, standing from his desk, “Hyun learn how to shut your yap hole for once, and Park, I need you to back off. There’s already a lot of tension in this room cause of Jeon…let’s handle that motherfucker first, officers.”

He warns Jimin to which you hold him tighter, whispering at him to let it go. Eventually the blonde simmers down – they both do, and you watch the way the chief exhales defeatedly.

“___, is there any reason at all- anything you can think of- and really think now, all the way back to before you transferred here- as to why Jeon Jungkook would want to speak to you? Why he would say he knows you?”

“None, chief.” You state calmly. There was nothing to think about, you didn’t know him.

The man stares at you for a moment before nodding. “Alright then, officer. I’ll need you in that interrogation room immediately. Maybe you can find an answer to this whole mess of a situation.”

“What the hell chief?” Hyun immediately complains, “I brought him in! I should be the one questioning him! You can’t just do that to me-” He growls, stepping up to the boss’ desk.

“Shut it!” Sergeant smacks the back of his big head while you breathe through your nose to keep calm.

Hyun always made his dislike for you obvious. It was difficult to pinpoint the exact reason he hated you because there were one too many. You were a stickler for rules and tradition, a woman (more specifically a woman who has made more arrests than him), and not the type to try and fit in. He hated how you didn’t fall in line and mostly kept to yourself – private and introverted. Whatever, you didn’t give a fuck about what he thought of you. Although you were used to Hyun’s moronic nature, it was still rarely this chaotic and tense in your station. Everyone seemed to be at one another’s neck. The most thrill you all had was capturing a local drug dealer a few years back.

But then again, Jeon Jungkook was far from your average criminal.

“You were in there for 2 and a half fucking hours with the captain himself, Hyun. What did you get out of it?” Chief groans

“I-I just need a little more time, just a li-”

“Time we don’t have!” The older man yells at the top of his lungs. “I know you’re the one who cuffed him and I’m real happy for that 20 second thrill you got but you can’t just get your panties in a twist when things don’t go your way. ___ here is just as capable of an officer as you. If she can get him to talk and we can gain some info on him and his little gang before those FBI pigs show up – just think of what that could mean for the team…”

Hyun scowled at the elder for a minute before contemplating on what was just said. Pursing his lips, he took a step back with a face that screamed defeat. “Yes, chief.” He mumbles.

“Good. Now ___,” The attention was once again placed on you. “We don’t have much time. Get out there and find out what that son of a bitch is thinking.”

“Yes, chief.”

“But listen, this man knows your name meaning it’s safe to say he knows your identity. He’s smart and he’s dangerous. Don’t get caught in any of his traps. We’ll be listening from the other side of the wall so if you feel like something’s off, signal us at any time, alright?”

His order had all the men in the room frowning for different reasons. Jimin had on his usual concerned face and even Sarge seemed worried. The thought of any stranger knowing your identity terrified you. But these were the last people on earth you would tell that to. You paid their disturbed expressions no mind as you nodded in determination, pulling your posture straight and holding your head up high.

“Yes, chief.”

You clench the file towards your chest.

There was an unsettling feeling you felt standing outside the door of interrogation room 4. Same one you had felt the first time you became a detective and were ordered to interrogate some big burly guy who had slashed his ex-girlfriend’s tires. Even though you thought you had left your past behind, here it was, surrounding you in an uncomfortable heat. This wasn’t just some petty thief who robbed a local convenience store or some middle-aged man who tried to choke his wife to death.

No. This was much, much bigger than that.

Jeon Jungkook, also known as JJK was a notorious hitman with several successful operations carried out around the world. In Washington, Libya, Hong Kong, Brazil and even Rome. He made the most wanted list when he was only 19 and was infamous for getting the job done. None of the men in his list survived…ever. Not only was he a perfectionist in his handiwork but also knew how to deal with the preparation.

A master of weapons; he could operate a H&K P7 in his sleep and take down 10 operatives with a single combat knife. His knowledge of artillery made him a big deal amongst the triads so setting up a little side business as a black arms dealer was a walk in the park for him. He was strong, fast, smart and feared. Not even the finest could catch him and at times months would go on by without a sighting.

Yet suddenly…he was just behind this door.

And who did he desperately want to see?

You.

By name.

Of all people.

Now you consider yourself a logical person. Someone guided by intellect before anything else. You did the math, worked on the equation, pondered on the systematics but nothing clicked. Nothing. There was absolutely no reason for someone like him to want to meet you but then again, the whole situation was the strangest fucking thing you’ve seen.

Surrendering at an abandoned mill in your jurisdiction would be the last place you’d think Jeon Jungkook would be captured. In your mind, his destiny was meant to end on a grander scale at the edge of the world. Some Hollywood theatrical-like bullshit where they would have him cornered on some rooftop with multiple choppers and snipers ready to take him down. This however – the threatening but anticlimactic atmosphere… it didn’t make any sense. Not for someone as careful and calculated as Jungkook.

For some reason, it just felt like he was waiting on something…something big to happen. A sensation of doom coursed throughout your body. Everything about today felt wrong. Like you and your colleagues were caught right in his talons.

By far, the most bizarre part about the situation was how he knew your name and you. You’ve always kept such a lowkey profile, it just didn’t make any sense.

“___?” The sound of your name startles you and you whip towards your side to see your partner dressed in his usual face of worry. “You alright?”

“…I’m good.” You choke out, trying to sound as lucid as possible.

It doesn’t seem to convince him however as he tilts his head and frowns at you.

“Listen, if you don’t want to talk to him, you don’t have to. Chief shouldn’t have pushed you into this bullshit – why do we even have to listen to what a criminal wants anyway? I-”

“Jimin, calm down. I’m fine.”

“Bu-”

“Your mollycoddling doesn’t help as much as you think it does, Park.”

Your words seem to have surprised him, his stubborn expression morphing into denial.

“That’s…I didn’t mean…”

You shut your tired eyes, feeling bad about the way you spoke to your only friend at the station. This is exactly why everyone thought you were way too rigid and unapproachable. Jimin however was too much of a nice guy, always going out of his way to make friendly with you. It always made you wonder – why would a well-liked, popular and talented guy such as Jimin want to hang around you or even ask the chief to be your partner? Maybe it was pity he felt for you.

That feeling was not something you desired. It left a nauseous impression down your throat. All you wanted was to do your job the best you could, go home, take your pills and sleep your days away. You didn’t want anyone’s kindness or company, you just wanted it to be over. Park Jimin’s sincerity was a hindrance.

“I’m sorry it’s just…I’m real tired of getting treated like this. I get it, I’m a woman and somehow that means I’m a less than, a cause for concern or just a fucking HR liability. I fucking get it without every single one of you reminding me every damn day.”

“You know that’s not what I meant, ___.” Jimin stares at you apologetically

“Then please, Jimin. Let me do my job.” You hold his stare until he eventually sighs, giving you a nod and retreating.

Once he walks away, you let out a shaky exhale, reaching towards the door handle with trembling fingers. Get it together, you whisper to yourself. After all the tough talk, the truth was you weren’t ready. You were scared shitless. Maybe Hyun was right about you.

Maybe your father was.

Drowning out every negative thought, you turn the door handle and push the door open.

You were immediately greeted by the usual silent man on the interrogation chair. His dark orbs were soundlessly watching the wall ahead of him. When you step into the room, he turns his head to look at you. Once he notices you, he instantly breaks out into a smirk. Clenching your file harder, you physically stop yourself from shivering.

You had seen him before, in blurry internet sightings and news coverages. But never up close and personal…and never smiling. It was like you entered a whole different world; the room you were pretty familiar with felt like a surreal fantasy. He was drop dead gorgeous. Lethal, you could say. His face was round, and features were sharp. A prominent nose, pink lips, sharp jaw and intense, smoldering eyes. Midnight black hair shyly covered his temple as he sat upright and confident in his chair.

He was dressed rather casually – a dark blue denim jacket that molded around his muscles and black top that covered his long neck. Tight fitted black pants that were ripped at the knees, displaying his thick, strong thighs and the heaviest leather boots you’ve ever seen. His hands were cuffed to the table so everyone can see them at all times. All he did was sit still but somehow commanded your whole attention. You gulped involuntarily at the sight before you.

You’ve never seen a man more comfortable in his own skin.

When he notices you ogling, he raises a brow in amusement. It alarms you, your eyes shooting to the large mirror on the other side of the wall. They were probably watching you…waiting for you to mess up.

Not wanting to throw them anymore bones, you clear your throat. Walking in and sitting down opposite to Jungkook. You don’t give him the time of day, pretend not to notice his bottomless orbs following your every move as you flip the file open a couple pages. As you continue to ignore him, you swear you could hear him tsk under his breath.

“So… Jeon Jungkook. Aged 23. Professional hitman. Side arms dealer. Wanted by the CIA, FSB, NSA and the Navy seals. Says here you’ve pissed off a lot of people, Jungkook.”

This was routine. The lighthearted police tone you always used. Very rarely would officers come off strongly when interrogating perps unless they were fucking morons. It was better if everyone just cooperated like this was an elementary school’s playground and none of the children got violent. Perps had to feel comfortable enough to spill it all. Being approachable, calm and levelheaded was normal for an efficient detective.

It was normal.

But it didn’t feel normal. You found yourself cringing at your voice, at the way you spoke. Your words felt so out of place and awkward. For some reason, you were hyper aware of everything you were doing. Maybe it was because you were under Jungkook’s extremely scrutinizing gaze or maybe because you knew Hyun was probably sounding out some sarcastic remarks about your abilities behind that mirror. Whatever it was, you didn’t feel good. Yet you continued on like everything was fine.

“You’ve been quite the busy boy, haven’t you?” You continue on, flipping through the file and swallowing the uneasiness.

“Like you wouldn’t believe, doll.”

His pet name for you stops you in your tracks. In the middle of turning a page that hung in midair. Slowly, you look up at him from beneath your lashes and he has on that same damn smirk. Stress-free posture and concentrated gaze. Looks like he was comfortable.

“…Really? Mind telling me about it?”

He continues to stare at you for a moment before letting out a humorous sigh. Jungkook leans forward, resting his elbows on the table and rolling his tongue in his cheek.

“What would you like to know?”

“Whatever you have for me.” You reply back, leaning in and using in the same low tone he used. Mirroring the suspect, playing the game. No matter how shaken you were, you knew how to do your job.

Another smirk appears on his face before he props back on his chair.

“Mhmm, I don’t know how much I can tell you doll. We all have secrets you see, we all got someone to fool. Like you right now.”

As his words settle in, you become confused. And by the way he chuckles, you know he can see it.

“That face you have on, that cute look of determination. Flipping through those pages like you’re learning something new about me. Something that I myself might not know. Like you didn’t already memorize it front to back, way before you came in here...those eyes that are desperately trying to win us over…like you have so much to prove still.”

You were thrown off. The way he unflinchingly delivered his speech in the most persuasive way. There was a certain way you had expected this to go in your mind, a certain power your brain gave you over him but now you realize all your thoughts were dust. In reality, you couldn’t comprehend what the fuck he was going on about which gave him the upper hand.

Thus, you looked into his eyes for an answer. Genuine eyes that shone as clear as day. It made you realize that he had nothing to hide. There was nothing he was trying to erase.

It left you speechless.

Your face must have been very obvious because next thing you knew, he was answering the question that lingered your thoughts.

“Your uncertainty gives you away. I guess it’d be present in anyone who’s constantly been made to feel inferior. All your life, you’ve had to go above and beyond to be considered half as good as your colleagues with dicks. No matter how much pain and humiliation you’ve endured, everyone expects more from you. It would drive anyone mad.” He moves in further, practically whispering at this point. “It could make anyone commit sinful acts.”

“…sinful?”

“My mother used to tell me about them,” He relaxes back in his chair, “…before she left that is. She was big on religion so she’d tell me all about these people who did bad deeds- sinner, she would call them. She’d go on and on about how they look and how they act. How they don’t have a place in this world amongst the good, non-sinners. We’d know exactly how to identify them, wouldn’t we doll?”

In the bright center of interrogation room 4, your pools were glued on the stranger that knew too much but let on too little. Jungkook was the one in cuffs, but you were the one who was starting to feel trapped.

“You don’t know me. We’re not the same.” You said out loud.

He turns silent for a moment, before grinning. “I think we’re more alike than you are aware of, detective.”

“Don’t fall for any of his traps.”

“W-” You swallow, “We’re not here to talk about me…”

You tried sounding as rational and self-assured as before, but your voice was barely above a murmur. And after you spoke, he smiled. His smile was way too innocent compared to who you knew he was.

“So, you want to know about me?” He chuckled “What do you want to know?

This was your chance, you thought, surprised at how easily he seemed to be ready to change the subject matter. You began flipping through the folder nonchalantly again, trying to get back on track.

“How about you start at the mill. Who were you meeting with so early in the day, Jungkook?”

Suddenly, his eyes darken and the look on his face becomes sinister, but that smile never falls. You couldn’t help but shift in your seat at his unexpected gaze.

“If you really want to know about everything that led up to this morning…then we’d have to look back quite a bit. Maybe back years ago…to a kid whose mother was never around and whose father beat the living shit out of him twice a day.”

He throws his head back and breaks out into a laugh at your unimpressed face. You were all ears but the last thing you wanted to do was spend an uncomfortable hour or two in here. The man creeped you out, so if he could just hurry up and get on with it, maybe you could go finish your nap and forget about today.

“Okay, okay, hah,” He sits back up straight, trying to conceal his laughter, “We don’t have to go that far back, but yeah this kid had it hard. But he was never one of those cucks. As he grew older, he couldn’t just sit there and take it. No…it wasn’t like that for him…he had to fight back, and he did fight for what he could, no matter what it took. He-”

“Open this fucking door you little freak!”

The door’s pounding shook the whole room. His anxiety was through the roof as he watched the weak wood quiver each time the monster banged against it. It could break at any moment now and he was afraid. He always, always acted tough. Always fought back the best he could. But the truth was that he was just a skinny teenaged brat.

He didn’t want to fight. He wasn’t built for it.

“Fuck off!” The kid tried to sound as menacing as possible, but it came out a pathetic whimper and only seemed to anger the man on the other side of the locked door even further.

It was hilarious really; the kid couldn’t help but leak tears. He hadn’t eaten in days, it was his 4th beating of the week – he felt lightheaded and his body was on fire. All he wanted in that moment as he clenched his fists over his ears inside the dark bathroom was for the door to stay strong. For anyone to help him.

But as the lock broke and the wood let out a heinous whine and he was hit with sudden light and a large shadow, he realized circumstances do not work in your favor when you stand there and do nothing. And the moment he understood that, was the moment his life was about to drastically change. More accurately, the very next week.

When you entered his life.

“So- Jeon Jungkook, age 16, failing high school student…written up 4 times, visited juvie twice. Now, tell me why you beat up that kid, Jeon?” You stood up straight, writing away mindlessly in your small notebook.

The kid did nothing but stare at you through his bruised eye and busted lip, while he sat on the edge of your desk. It wasn’t his first time dealing with the cops and something inside him always knew it wouldn’t be his last. When you didn’t hear his answer, you huffed, looking up at him from the pages between your fingers.

“Well? I don’t have all night you know. I could just lock you in.”

He smirked. It was easy to tell you were new, he noticed as soon as you walked in and were told to book him by the guy who arrested him. Your uniform had been pressed with great care, not one hair was out of place and your badge was polished and perfectly positioned. It felt like you just came out of one of those corny films about the ‘good’ cops; fighting crime for justice and truth. The kid was even younger than he was at that moment when he realized just how full of bullshit that trope was.

One glance around the room, at the other pigs in uniform and he knew you had just gotten the job. That your spirits hadn’t been crushed unlike these soulless bodies wandering the station’s premises.

That was the best quality about the kid, he had always been observant. A lot more than his peers or even the adults in his life. He could tell a great deal about you at one glance. You seemed jittery and nervous, trying to write as neatly as possible. It felt like you were trying to get someone’s attention – a high ranking older officer, who you kept observing from the corner of your eye. As the kid watched that man chortle with his equally dull colleagues, he thought there was a resemblance in you both, but that there also wasn’t.

“Then why don’t you?” The kid replied a bit too sarcastically, wanting this to be over with as quickly as possible so maybe he could get some sleep for the first time in 3 days. It would do him a lot of good actually, being away from that house for a little while. Subtly, he was pleading.

“Look kid,” You grimaced, “I know that guy you beat up, he’s a racist little shit. He probably did something to you, I’m sure or you wouldn’t carry so many self-defense wounds along your hands. There might be some way I could help you; I want to help you. But only if you tell me what really happened, alright?”

It was silent just then. He was silent.

“I want to help you.”

He was expecting you to reprimand him for his smart mouth and then lock him up. That’s what anyone who took one glance at his file did. It was filled with crap about him, shit that they peered their nose over because they were so much better than him. The kid never trusted adults; they never did anything for him. He was the child that everyone discriminated against to remind themselves how lucky they were. At least my child’s not like that, is what they all thought. No one cared about his side of the story. No one but…you.

Your answer was something that caught him off guard for the first time in years.

“Why do you want to help me? I’m a criminal.”

“Oh yeah, you got a record,” You reply casually, flipping through your notes, “I glanced over it, it’s all for stealing food.”

Suddenly you became quiet. Taking a step back, you begin to study him up and down from where he sat.

“Is… is your dad not feeding you?”

Your gaze shifted further into concern and he held his breath. He’s never seen those eyes before on anyone – never for him. Shit, his own mother never looked at him like that. Like she felt something for him. Not even when the bitch ran off with the neighbor and left him with that monster – young, weak and helpless.

Having someone worry about him made him feel strange, his whole body broke out into a quiver and his eyes watered. That kid could see himself in the reflection of your eyes that had widened dramatically at the change in his demeanor. And he tried to stop himself but for some reason, he wanted you to worry about him.

“Uh- I..wai- don’t cry-'' Flustered, you scrambled around, trying to find a tissue. You were new at the job and you weren’t used to people breaking apart yet. Everyone around you seemed so busy, hustling around the station like they didn’t see a teenage boy in the start of a mental breakdown…that or they didn’t care. Finally, you grab the handkerchief your mom had stuffed inside your uniform pocket and carefully hold it out for him.

But you drop it in a flash when you witness him get struck across the face the very next instant.

“YOU FUCKING TROUBLESOME BRAT!”

You flinched at the loud, unforgiving voice that resounded throughout the station. Everyone instantly went noiseless and it felt like the station just halted for the first time in years. All you could hear were the lingering ringing of phones.

“How many times have I warned you not to make trouble? You’re a disgrace!” The man spit into the kid’s face. He was tall, maybe 6’2, and muscular compared to the teenager but stood unevenly, favoring his left foot and walked with a limp. His face bore a scar on the cheek that was partially covered with a jungle of facial hair. His eyes seemed insane with anger and he reeked of hard liquor. You had to remind yourself that you had a taser in your holster.

Slowly, you looked back at the kid whose fringe covered his eyes. He hadn’t moved an inch since the man slapped his face. A large red handprint on his already wounded skin. It pulled at your heartstrings.

“S-sir?” You cleared your throat to which the crazy man turned his sneer towards you. But you couldn’t let that faze you. “You can’t just hit a child like that, I need you to back away.”

That was the best you could do at sounding confident, but your strength wavered as soon as the man took a step towards you.

“You trying to tell me how to raise my son, girlie?”

The scent of alcohol clouded your senses. You opened and closed your mouth like a fish. Your body started trembling, but you still tried to stand your ground until-

“Jeon!”

Another loud voice interrupts you. This time though, you recognized that voice. Your dad steps between you and the snarling man and you almost cry out of relief. You gape at both of the men in awe, staring one another down. The tension wraps around your throat and you worry for the kid behind all of this. If a brawl breaks out, he’s likely to get injured…

For a second you tried peeking back at your desk over your dad’s shoulder, until you hear sudden robust laughter in front of you.

What the fuck?

“You son of a bitch, how’ve you been?” Your father daps his hand with the terrifying man and your face morphs into confusion.

The demeanor and the whole damn atmosphere between the men changed, just like that. All the suffocating animosity had vanished in an instant as if it never existed, which left you dumbstruck and standstill.

“I’ve been good you dick. You’re a lieutenant now, I see. No wonder I haven’t seen you around the parlor much.” The guy cackles loudly, making you cringe at his rotten teeth and bad breath.

“Ahh~ You know, the old ball and chain.” Your father so kindly refers to your mother, “Heh, actually I’m a sober man now! My oldest just became an officer like her father a month ago.” He moves to your side to pat you on the shoulder. You freeze under his touch and your wide pupils flicker between him and Jeon who took a newfound interest in you.

In any other instance, you would have been ecstatic to have your father compliment you. But right now, your brain had a hard time processing everything and you kept glancing at the stoic kid.

“This one yours?” The man smirks, eyeing you up and down in a disturbing way. You almost tasered him then and there. “She’s a bit noisy, isn’t she?”

Your dad laughs louder than before while you clench your fist.

“Relax, she’s just a kid – a whole rookie. She doesn’t know how all this works yet.”

You try not to grimace at his words. Here you were hoping he would have believed in you a bit more if you received a perfect score on the academy’s exam.

As his laughter dies down, your dad looks off to the side, just behind the giant man and raises his eyebrow. “And I take it this one’s yours?”

Jeon sighs, ruffling his hair with his calloused fingers. “Sadly. The kid’s a lost cause, ___. They can’t all be like your pretty little daughter. Every damn day hurting someone, busting balls, messing with the other kids…stealing. Just…you know after his mother left…”

He becomes mute suddenly. Staring at the ground in great concentration like he just got too emotional. Funny, you saw that look in another man last week. A man who lied about not murdering his wife. You tsk under your breath and look back at the kid, almost jumping out of your skin when you catch him staring right at you from where he sat. No more vulnerability in his young eyes. They were once again making the same hardened expression you saw when he first walked in here. Something felt very off.

Your attention flies back to the taller men when you feel your father shift towards the older Jeon.

“I understand.” He states sympathetically, placing a hand on his shoulder for comfort. “Take him home…”

It took you a second to snap out of your mute state.

“But dad, he-”

“Let them go, ___. This man here,” He signals at the guy, “He used to be one of the greatest and most respected officers of his time. Spent his best years serving. It’s the least he deserves. It’s alright.”

“No that’s not- Dad!” You begin flipping through your notebook, trying to show your father your notes, “Look at the kid’s fingers and arms! His face! He looks malnourished and some of those wounds look old- and- and this man’s obviously drunk and agressi-”

“___!” Your father shouts in rage, effectively shutting you up. “This is a command from your direct superior! They’re leaving.”

“But-”

At that moment he menacingly leans in, close enough to breathe in your ear.

“Don’t embarrass me further, child.” He whispers with pure venom.

And just like that, all the fight in you leaves. Your shoulders slump and head falls to the floor. There were tiny needles poking you everywhere and your face felt hot – ashamed. His words ring inside your head like a mantra and you want to just run away and hide.

All you did was disappoint him.

Your dad apologizes for you and the next thing you hear is the man grabbing the kid by the arm and you couldn’t help but physically wince at how much pain he would be in at the moment. He staggers out of earshot and you do nothing but look at the ground. How could you possibly face the kid now? After you told him you’d help him.

Because of that you don’t notice anything. You don’t notice the fact that your handkerchief was no longer on the floor. Nor do you notice the kid’s eyes which stayed on you the whole time he was being dragged out of the building.

You sat there, speechless.

Jungkook tilted his head, softening his gaze at your shaken form.

“He looked at you the whole time after that. Only you…but you never noticed.”

You on the other hand couldn’t hear shit he was saying. All you could think about was that vague, really fucking vague memory you had of the moment he described. Your mind was everywhere, on your father, on his father, on that event that you ended up failing to recall somehow, at your conversation with the chief earlier.

“All he had on him was an old handkerchief.”

How does someone process this? How did you forget this? There were countless of cases you’ve dealt with before, so many unusual moments that you just began throwing them out of your head for your very own sanity. That was the truth, but would anyone believe you? Jeon Jungkook was from your old hometown. Jeon Jungkook was someone you almost booked before. Jeon Jungkook was not someone who could’ve been forgotten. You, no longer in control of your facial expression, glance over at the mirror in horror. Would the chief actually think you lied?

In the back of your mind, you knew the real reason you chose to leave all the memories of your past behind – suppress them down and drown them out. But that information wasn’t something you could reveal to anyone. Ever. The one thing you were told to do was not fall into his trap, yet here you are. Your mind was a mess, which meant there was no way you could have the advantage in this situation, and you were no longer fit to interrogate him. Desperate and anxious, you place your palm on your forehead like you were in deep thought. In reality, that was the signal. You wanted to escape this place.

Jungkook glares at the side of your face, getting angrier the more you ignore him. Today was supposed to be different, his one free day where he could finally get you to notice him. And there you sat, still not looking his way. Didn’t you know you didn’t need to worry about anyone else when he was right here?

“Doll.” He practically sneers but then simmers down and smiles when you finally turn back to him – all wide eyed.

“I wanted to thank you.” He continues, “Because that day changed me forever…”

You said nothing. Wondering why the men on the other side were taking so long. He took your silence as a chance to finish his story.

“I took my beating…took all of it and said nothing. Broke my rib and wrangled my neck but I said nothing. He was drunk, so I waited for him to tire himself out…waited till he passed out on that fucking couch. Then I strangled him…with that very piece of cloth you gave me.”

This has got to be some fucking nightmare.

“And it felt really good.” His voice slightly waivered, “To watch him turn red and struggle, to watch that bastard’s life leave his eyes while in return he saw me become his demise.” He stops rambling suddenly as if recalling where he was, “Within a span of 8 minutes…I became a criminal for killing the monster who tortured me every single day. I was a sinner. I hit rock bottom. And once you’re there, it takes a lot of blood, sweat and tears to climb back up to the top.”

As you heard him rant on, your mind started to drift off. For some reason, once you slowly start to remember that tethered kid, you felt something you haven’t felt for a while. Sympathy? Sadness? Or were you just reminiscing about who you were back then. The bright young woman who had a lot to offer the world. You shake your head, looking down at the table. That girl was dead, you chose to forget her and went along with whatever life threw at you.

Your father was right to criticize your soft heart and if he were alive today you were sure he wouldn’t be able to identify you. No longer were you that naïve child who stubbornly believed that there was good in this world – in its people. It didn’t matter to you the reasons why someone committed a crime – criminals were just labeled orange jumpsuits. Jungkook had met a completely different person back then, not you.

Then why did your chest ache this much?

“J…Jungkook…I…didn’t remember…”

“I know,” He states ensuringly, making you look back up at him, “You left your past behind, after all.”

Suddenly, all the color left your face. Your heart started beating faster and you broke out into a cold sweat. You faintly thought you heard a bang behind the mirror, but you didn’t care. For the first time since you got here, your whole attention was solely on Jungkook.

It made him so happy.

“W-what…”

“It hurt when you transferred, leaving a big hole in my already impoverished life. But I understood your reasons. How can someone stay after such an incident?”

He knows.

“H-H…How did you know…”

“Oh, I know everything about you, doll.” His sinister smirk reappeared as he relaxed back into his chair and you pursed your lips as you felt an oncoming panic attack.

He knows, he knows, he knows, he-

“I know your dad wanted a son. I know that it kills you inside to never get the respect you deserve no matter what you do and even the men who claim to respect you patronize you in subtly conditioned ways. I know what your favorite food is. I know how much you love whiskey. I know you’re wearing those red panties that I fucking love on you.” He takes a breath as you let out an involuntary gasp, “And I know it was an accident.”

The first tear fell down your cheek. Shock, anger, fear? None of it mattered anymore; it was useless to pretend. You knew he knew. It was over. He stared at you in pity, like seeing you cry made him hurt.

“How could he not want someone as beautiful as you, doll?” Jungkook whispers, as if he couldn’t believe it himself.

“I wanted…to be the best for him…I tried…” Your voice strains

“I know you did. I know. Which is why you had no choice…”

In an instant, it all comes crashing back.

You drove down the lane a bit too clumsily, as you took the long way home.

It was almost midnight and you were speeding past 80 on a two-way lane off a cliffside road, but you didn’t give a single fuck. Your smashed mind was preoccupied at the moment.

A whole year had gone by, but your dad still hadn’t given you an ounce of trust he had for the other officers. Your dad – the fucking police lieutenant. You told him – you warned him that the man was armed, but he still charged in blind, without back up. Almost got the rest of the family members killed by doing something so crazy and careless.

Then he blamed you for not following his lead when he came out.

The tears came out faster than you could wipe them. Growing up in that home was horror. Him being on the force somehow also made him a conservative, self-righteous douchebag. Berating you for the way you’d dress, the way you ate, the way you talked to the way you styled your hair. It made you sick.

You tried so desperately to win over your own father’s love and approval from such a young age and you had nothing to show for it. Deep down, you knew it was because he wanted a boy. A boy who could become a cop like him. And a part of you thought that maybe if you became a cop anyway – one as respected and admired as he was, then he would finally admit he was wrong. At the very least he could finally tell you how proud he was of you.

You went to such lengths to spend the year being the best damn officer your town had seen. 26 arrests, 1 successful drug raid, multiple successful testimonies and extensive gang knowledge. As a plus, you had become beloved in the community. That took the most effort – you had to look the prettiest even while overworking yourself with double shifts. Be traditional and confident but not an overbearing prude. And never let the ‘unnatural’ masculine traits your job gave you, overpower your ‘natural’ feminine ones. Sounds completely simple doesn’t it? Now everyone praised you right and left. It was record breaking; you were the shit.

Yet he still wouldn’t refer to you as detective.

It broke you apart. You were at the end of your wits. Out excelling every male peer in your force. But you had zero to show for it. Which means all your efforts were for nothing.

The pain in your chest got heavier by the minute which made you whimper. Tonight, you had drunk yourself silly but not enough to take away the ache. To help yourself along, you grabbed the half-empty bottle laying in the driver’s seat in a swift motion and popped it open. Your car entered the opposite lane without your knowledge.

You chugged down the last of the bitter liquor, smashing the bottle against the driver’s side window. The anger still remained as you wiped the remnants of alcohol away from your mouth. Your vision was hazy, and you felt so pathetic – dirty, disgusting, like you were rotting from the inside. All you ever wanted to do was earn your father’s acceptance, so much so that you lost sense of any individuality you had left in you.

For a second, everything was so still and quiet, that it felt like all would be okay. The night was dark but serene.

But that tranquility vanished the instant you witnessed two bright lights closing in on you.

It all happened too quickly. You immediately swerved to your right, a loud honking and the friction of tires blasting through your ears. Years of practice and one whole one of police chases makes your instincts faster than normal and you immediately apply the clutch as your foot floors the break and you grip the handle sturdy. Your car rotates haphazardly to the right, but you were able to come to a complete halt before your front engine crashed into a tree.

Yet it feels like you did just that as your body lunges forward and the sounds of a car smashing against shrubs pierces through your ears. You were thankful you had your seat-belt on so you didn’t go flying out the windshield, but all you could think about was the immense pressure against the front of your body. The whiplash left you in shock for a couple seconds.

“Fuck.” You breathe out in agony, bringing your arm up to your sprained shoulder.

As you gather yourself together, you finally remember your surroundings and your head whips to the opposite end of the road to where you finally spot the car you almost hit. In the disoriented dark, you really had to strain into the distance. The car hadn’t been as lucky as yours as it thrashed towards the cliff side of the road. Seemed like it was laid halfway out on the edge. A non-threatening, old compact SUV – most likely a family car. Possibly children present. You could hear them screaming.

Fuck.

You had to help them as quickly as you could. But the instant you tried stepping out, you saw the gleam of a bottle under the driver’s seat.

And just like that, your body fell limp. Because you were more sober now than you’ve ever been in any moment of your life, you barely remembered…you were drunk.

All of the pain in your body immediately changed into fear – your eyes became wide and your pores leaked sweat.

You were drinking.

If you get out to help them, they were bound to smell the alcohol. If they’re able to identify you…if the police are called-

Everything would end tonight. Your career would be over, your family’s name will be dragged through the mud publicly and your father-

Your father would never forgive you. He’d never speak to you again. You’d be disowned.

Don’t embarrass me further, child.

Don’t embarrass me further, c̴h̶i̵l̴d̶

don’tembarrassmefurtherd̸o̴n̷’̸t̶e̶m̷b̷a̴r̴r̴a̴s̸s̷m̷e̶f̷u̷r̴t̸h̸e̴r̴d̵̜͓̈́͝ǫ̵͖̏͝n̴̘̈́’̷͕͐̈́t̴̗̺̃ẻ̵̢͓m̷͉̕b̸̡͕́̆a̴͔̬͆r̴̦͒r̸͉͑̿ạ̵̳̽s̵͙̏s̵̳̣̀̇m̵͉̬̐͋ë̸͓̝̕f̶̙̑u̶͈͠ř̷͔͈̃ẗ̴̠̈́h̸̖͍̅e̵̟̘͆r̷̫̕d̵̜͓̈́͝ǫ̵͖̏͝n̴̘̈́’̷͕͐̈́t̴̗̺̃ẻ̵̢͓m̷͉̕b̸̡͕́̆a̴͔̬͆r̴̦͒r̸͉͑̿ạ̵̳̽s̵͙̏s̵̳̣̀̇m̵͉̬̐͋ë̸͓̝̕f̶̙̑u̶͈͠ř̷͔͈̃ẗ̴̠̈́h̸̖͍̅e̵̟̘͆r̷̫̕d̴̼͚̠̈́̓ơ̶̪̜̅n̸̻̬͕͂͊͝’̸̼̪͉̌̒́t̷̲͓̐͒e̸̗̅͗m̵̨̹̫̓͑b̴̯̗̪̌̑å̷̬͕̻r̵̤͌̅̈́r̸̦̃̅̑ą̵̢̖̋s̷̟̜̄͆s̶̢̬̄m̸͎͗̈́́e̸̘̩̒̋f̷̝̦̟͆ũ̴͚̖̤r̶̙̫͒͝t̸̘͓̾͗͝ḩ̴̫͔̏̒ȇ̶̪̳͠d̶̳̆͂o̶͈̣͊̈́͐ņ̴̼̾’̵̨̆͂t̷̠̺͒̾̔ę̷̯̮̅̓m̸̪̑ͅb̷͇͐͑a̶̩͛̇ͅr̴̢̟̰̄͝r̸̞͙͎͑̅a̶̓̋̃ͅs̴̹͍͋̅̉s̷͓͓͎͒̆̐m̴̹̮͙̃e̶̲͗͠f̷̨͇̐́u̶̫͆̿̉r̶̰̗͑̾t̵̨̼͉͊͘h̸̻͔̥̎̒e̴̲̍̚r̷̺̘̆d̷̟̀̌̃õ̴̲̬̕n̸̡̕’̷̨̭̘̽t̶̛̼̀ë̸͉̲̂ḿ̶͚̌̚ḇ̸͇̗̿̏ȃ̶͖̥͔̿͑r̶̲̝̣͗̅r̴̖͖͘͝a̶͚͉͚͝s̴͎̘͑s̶͙̲̜̾̚m̵̨̧͒̈ẽ̵̱f̶̯̓̑̀ủ̶͍ȑ̵̻̼̍͒͜t̸̞͕͐̉̚h̵̺͐e̷̟̠̪̅͑́r̷̹̔͠d̶̯̼̫͒̑̅ȏ̴͎n̵̹̯̈͗’̷̢͋ṯ̵͓̈́ȅ̸̠ṃ̶̲̓b̸̘̻̈̆͜͝ä̷̢́̈r̴͍̫̐̌r̷̞̂͐͑à̵̛̤̌s̶̠̟̃ş̸͍̜́m̵̰͋̏̈́ë̴̬́f̵̝͈̋̄̚u̶͉͉͇͂̓r̴͚̉̎t̴̹̤͆ȟ̸͔͔̈́ė̶̹͆d̸̟̫͆̈́ő̸̲̔͠n̸̠̈́͌’̴̮̏̂̏t̷̩̦̓̿͒e̵͉̲̰̽̿m̶̡̛b̸͓̥͙͋ă̵̭̈́r̶͓̓͐r̵̤̮̾̌a̴̗͒͘s̸̫̉̆̀s̵̠̉͝m̸̪̗͛̽e̸͈͒̔f̶̺̟͂́u̷̢̧͈͐r̵͉͚̈́͝ẗ̴͚̹͉́̋́h̵͈̰̥̔d̷̟̉ͅo̶̩̟̺̍̒̾ṇ̴͋̾’̶̟̣̓̚ť̵̳̩e̵̡̼͛m̷͉̺̈́b̶̢̙̝͌a̶̳̟̐͠r̶͉̅̿ŕ̶̞̌̃a̶̠̿̊̽ͅs̸̡̨̩̽ş̶̯͎̃̀̈́m̵͙͓̦̍́e̸̠͍̳̽̆f̷͔͛̈́u̴͉̻͂̆͒r̴̥̩̀̑̋ṭ̶͔̯̊̂ḣ̵̡̭̰̔͆ễ̵͎̚r̷̝͔̙̀d̴͈͕͔͊ȍ̴̅̓ͅn̷͙̈’̴̪̜͎̓̈́͠t̴̝̾̚e̵͇̭͐ḿ̵̙̊b̷̧̝͆͛̔ͅa̴̗̲͒͠r̷͉͍̹̀́r̶̨͎̤̄a̶̙͔̳̾́͐s̸̳͑s̴̨͆͆̀ṃ̸̏̕͠è̴͎̻͆̚f̷͎͇̀ͅu̶͔̺͌̏̊͜r̷̩̂͗t̸̝̓̏h̶̠͉̏͝ȩ̷̬̣̈r̵̼̍ď̵͔̊o̵̡͉̣͑͂͒n̵̜̋́’̵̠̈́ͅṭ̷͛͝͝e̸̮͆m̷͚̈̃͊b̵͚͐͊a̷͈̲̘͛͆̚ŕ̵̻̦̘̓͠ŕ̵̹̭̈̎a̷̻̺̫̍͝s̶̜̠̹͑s̴̼̈́m̵̯̏ĕ̷̲̯̣f̵̹͔̍͝ų̸̤͌̿̀r̵̨͓̳̽͝t̵͉̟̃̐h̴̘̰͖̓͛e̵̺̽͠r̸̡̟̻̒̈́

“NO!” You shout, covering your ears with your palm to drown out his scalding voice.

Jungkook finally stopped talking, watching you cave into yourself on the chair in front of him. He would’ve done something if his hands weren’t tied down to the table. You looked so fragile and pained, it reminded him of himself in those days. This was the very look you had on after your father whispered something to you all those years ago. As he thought, he was always right about you.

You both were the same.

“_-”

“Shut up!” You scream, clenching your eyes shut and trying to erase the image of the car from your mind. “Just shut the fuck up!”

“You had no choice, ___.” He continued, his voice softer than before, “You had to drive off.”

“No I…” You look back up at the man in front of you through hard blurry tears, trying not to choke on your words. “I didn’t mean it…I didn’t- I promise dad…I did- i-it was an accident…”

“___...I know. It was you father who broke your spirit. It was the world that crushed your soul. They drove you mad, doll. They made you a sinner.”

You say nothing as the tears continue to fall, getting lost inside his bottomless pools.

“You drove off and left the family there. But he didn’t.”

He?

“That kid you never noticed…the kid who would’ve done anything for you.”

His response further tethers you into confusion. You furrow your eyebrows, not understanding what he was trying to say.

“That kid who only looked at you. He was right behind you that night.”

You feel a shiver crawl up your spine.

The kid was only slightly older and less miserable that night.

He was involved with every bad name in that town, aka his late father’s acquaintances. They provided him a new shelter, transportation and a means to earn food, as long as he did their bidding. Crime was a lot more organized than he would have ever thought. It was a hard life, but he was learning to survive. Committing small acts here and there for big games. No longer was he some petty thief who stole in desperation, he was a kid with so much blood on his hands that he couldn’t even stand looking at them

There were nights where he would have these dreams about ruling over an empire, of being feared and respected and every time he took a life, those dreams seemed closer to his bloody grasp. Although he hated taking orders, he became obedient to the never-ending pain. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to move up the ladder, but it would be a while till he could see a light.

Throughout this struggling livelihood, he did have one small, precious source of sun in his life. You.

Anytime he could, he would come watch you. Sometimes just small glimpses to get him through the day. Watching you on a stake out, prance around town, or just lounge about in your room. It was the most dangerous thing he did since you were a cop. Every time he went to you, he risked everything, but he was extra careful. There were times where he almost got caught, like the time he was masturbating in your bushes as you walked around with a towel on – don’t look so disgusted, he was just a dumb kid – but thankfully you never did find him. On the contrary, you helped him build all the stealth he’d need for his future.

In some ways, he thought of you as the better half of him. A person whose existence was nothing but a cause for regret, yet you didn’t let that corrupt you, unlike him. You were better than him – righteous and kind. Deep down inside, you were who he wanted to be.

Now that he was free of that monster’s grasp, he would imagine walking up to you as a free kid man. Wondering if you would remember him. He didn’t know what he would say, if there was anything at all he could have told you. It was a yearning he didn’t understand, he was just too young and unsettled.

The kid was content with watching you from far away because he knew he wasn’t worthy of you. It still didn’t stop him from being utterly in love with the thought of you alone.

That night he saw you leave the station. He observed you outside the bar’s window getting wasted. There was a strange feeling he had that night as you left a drunk mess, stumbling towards your 2012 Hyundai Accent and rushing out of the parking lot. The kid would soon learn to always trust his instincts.

He was driving right behind you, making sure he kept his distance. You were one hell of an officer, no doubt. Nevertheless, you were too out of it that night to tell anyone was tailing you. It all happened too quickly. The clumsy driving, the crash, and the aftermath. His heart almost jumped out of his chest when he saw you skid, pressing his own break as hard as he could. But you were able to stop before you crashed into anything, much to his relief.

The kid was trying to think about what he could do. You weren’t too hurt, were you? Should he come out and help you? He didn’t even care about the other car, just observing you in the far distance. As he continued to think, he decided he would come out and see if there was any way he could help you.

And as soon as he clicked his door open, he watched you do something he never would have imagined.

He saw you drive off.

It took a minute to realize what just happened. And the kid had always been observant, so he knew exactly what you were thinking. For the first time that night, he looked over at the other car.

These people could destroy you. Everything you have worked so hard for. He knew exactly why you had to leave. But he couldn’t do something like that. The kid had to help you, just like you did for him at one point.

So, he did the only thing he knew how. He drove up to the edge where their car hanged halfway. There were people yelling from inside, he could hear children. The car began blaring their horn as soon as they saw him drive up.

He drove up really close, close enough that his bumper banged against theirs.

Your mind was a blank state.

“He pushed them off.” Jungkook finishes off calmly.

You let out the breath you were holding, your bottom lip quivering softly. “Is…is that why-”

“Yeah. That’s why when you came back a minute later…they were gone.”

They were gone. Everything was as clear as day. You remember driving off, rushing even harder than before as you cried your heart out. It was such a stupid and rash decision – so fucking stupid. Half a minute later, you stepped on the break once again. As your car came to a halt, all you could hear were your sobs and the immobile engine. Your body hurt, everything hurt so, so, so much.

Was it worth it? Is gaining your father’s love worth killing someone over? Slowly, you glanced at the rear view mirror. Looking at the girl with swollen eyes. She wasn’t someone you recognized. The promise to serve and protect rings in your ears. All you were in this moment, was a hypocrite. You didn’t deserve anyone’s praise if this was your reality, you didn’t deserve anyone’s pity.

It was really dark out, and you found the slightest comfort in the world’s shadow. You bit your bottom lip, trying to stop your tears. It didn’t work – it was useless. All worth nothing.

Which is why you screamed out on the top of your lungs, banged your fists against the wheel before turning your car back around.

No matter what happens…you had to save them.

And you tried to. Within a minute, you were back where you before. But once you got there, that one place you’d never forget – those shrubs, the cliff, that road – they were gone. You got out, looking around, hoping that the family survived. The cliff itself was too high and the night was too dark to see below. Pulling at the strands of your hair, screaming out ‘hello?’, you appeared mad.

Till this day you don’t know if it was your gut instinct or an entity bigger than you that gave you a sign, if not the newspaper a few days later, you just knew they were dead. You fell to your knees – a broken woman. Not having any idea of those dark eyes that cried along with you that damned night.

Not until now.

Jungkook was the one who killed them, but how much does that change, really? It was still you who drove off, still you who left them in his hands. You were so deep in thought that you didn’t hear the sound of the interrogation room’s door cranking open. The man opposite you kept his eyes unflinchingly on you, waiting for this all to come to an end.

The last thing you felt was something heavy against the back of your head before you fell unconscious.

“Shit- that was so hard you bastard, I told you to use the chloroform shit.” Jungkook shouts at the man holding the gun’s handle.

“I couldn’t fucking find it, I told you that at the house, kid. Besides, she’s a big girl, she’ll be fine.” The man puts the barrel back in his holster before ripping his badge off his belt and throwing it aside.

“Shut the fuck up and uncuff me, Jimin.”

The blonde sighs, grabbing his keys from his back pocket.

“Tells me to infiltrate a police department, forces me to befriend and stalk some random cop girl, makes me hang out with those pigs. Fucking prick.” Jimin murmurs under his breath as he paces over and unlocks the shackles on said prick.

Jungkook winces, grabbing his wrist and twisting it around to get some circulation going. Then he stretches his neck before standing up and dusting his pants. Fuck, this chair was uncomfortable. He points at some fresh blood staining the elder’s chin, prompting him to wipe it off.

“So, what’s the situation outside?”

“Me and Kane took care of all of them. We took our time with Hyun, like you wanted. Now Kane’s waiting in the van for us.”

“Good.” Jungkook nods, looks like everything went according to plan. He glances over at your limp form and walks up to where you sat insentient. With a huff, he got on his knees so he could see your face up close, like he’s always wanted to.

“I can’t believe this day is here.”

Jimin looks between you both. “What are you gonna do with her?”

The younger cups your cheek. “You know I was ecstatic that night. I was…fuck, I never thought you could be with me. But that night, you proved that you were meant to be mine. And I waited so long for this moment. This moment where I could introduce myself to you as your equal. It’s why I was out on that mill this morning, detective. I wanted to meet you so much that it hurt.”

…That wasn’t an answer to his question but Jimin knew not to further bother his boss. There probably was a lot he had planned for you, but he wasn’t going to say it. No one ever really knew what this kid was thinking, anyway. He was a cryptic bastard.

Jungkook turns towards Jimin and extends his free hand out to him. Without being asked, Jimin reaches into his front pocket and pulls out the old handkerchief. His boss usually didn’t go this long without holding it. He places it into the younger’s hand without a word.

Turning back around, Jungkook places the cloth right underneath your shut eyes. He gently wipes away the tears leaking out.

“No one will ever hurt us again, doll.” Jungkook whispers before standing back up.

He places the handkerchief back in his own pocket and moves in to pick you up bridal style. Safely tucking you in his arms.

“Lead the way.” He orders Jimin who nods before opening the door of interrogation room 4.

___

This is absolute trash :))) I hope ya’ll enjoy tho. Lemme know what you thought, srsly because this fic stepped out of a certain comfort zone for me. I am absolutely open to part 2 if ya’ll want. if there is something you’re curious about, ask away.

#yandere bts #yandere jungkook #bts angst #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts #jungkook #R:SIN

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too-scared-to-do-this · 4 years ago

Text

Of the Devil’s head

Chapter two - Some good signs

Sander’s sides fanfiction

Ships: eventual prinxiety (i’ll be adding as we go)

Wordcount: 1846

TW: mentions of hunger, illness, some shape of discrimination or how should I name it, chasing.... and I think that’s all for today. If I accidently missed something, let me know :)

Summary of the whole story: They say, the one that wears the crown rules all - the living, the dead, the walking, the crawling, the rooted, the sane and the mad. They say, once you own the crown, you become the most powerful being on Earth and beyond. Roman’s stolen bigger things - a measly little crown won’t present a problem, even if he has to steel it straight off of the devils head!

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Chapter two - Some good signs

Getting out alive. Yeah. That shouldn’t be such a problem. A duck here, a run there, tripping and falling, alerting one of the many guards. Hide as fast as you can, wait out the guard, run again. Climb the wall. Then fall two stories, because your dumb brain completely forgot that if you climb up a wall you have to climb down as well.

“Ow…” Roman grumbled brokenly as he laid there on the grassy hill-side. On the other side of the stone wall, ruckus and panic ruled the guard-quarters, because someone had just broken in. Nobody knew what they took or where to find them. Or what they looked like for the matter. But they were all over the place, running around like crazy, literally moving rocks to see if the thief wasn’t hiding underneath them (yes, some guards were either really drunk, or really dumb).

Roman grinned to himself. He was safe. Probably had a cracked rib or too, but was safe and out of there. He got the food.

And much more!

Forcing himself up, he hurried home, occasionally checking for guards following.

Passing trees, fields, houses and dirty streets he turned a corner and walked into a run-down ally. There he finally slowed down and let the news completely sink in.

Falling back against the cold stone of the building, he felt his body relax. Hands limp, only the sack hanging from one of them, his head hit the stone-brick wall. He was smiling. Grinning, so widely it seemed like his mouth would split in two.

He was going to get the money for mother’s medicine… They won’t ever go hungry another day in their lives!

He was about to save his family.

Roman pushed on the door next to him and quietly stepped into his house. Faint and shallow breaths coming from the back of the room let him know his momma was asleep. He put the bread on the bedside table, together with the pie and covered it with a piece of cloth he found in the place they used as a kitchen. Leaving the fruit in the sack, he placed it, open, next to the rest of the food.

“Guess what mommy.” he ran a hand down her pail face. “I’m about to get some money for us. And when I get back, we’ll be filthy rich! You’ll be wearing only the finest of dresses, walking around in silk and gold. We’ll be eating roast beef and pork-chops for dinner every day! And I won’t ever have to steal again!” a smile, so pained but hopeful, sat on his lips silently. “And we’ll get you the best doctors! You’ll be healthy in no time. I promise…”

She didn’t wake up. She almost never did. And when she did, she barely even comprehended her own existence let alone notice her son.

Roman guessed it was better this way… She didn’t have to see how much they both were suffering… How much Roman missed her…

He gave her a kiss on the forehead, squeezing her fragile hand. “Take care, mommy. I’ll be back in a few days...”

And with that, he picked up an apple from the sack and quietly pulled the door closed behind him. There was a long way ahead, back to the castle. It seemed so stupid going back to where he just came from. But the King needed to know who was looking for his crown. And no matter how torn up Roman looked in his current attire, the King didn’t have a choice but to see him if he wanted to lay his greedy hands on that crown.

There was a pep in his step, a giddy energy coursing through his veins. He started whistling to drown out the thoughts and doubts that were getting louder in his head..

No, he won’t die down there. He’s the great Roman, who slipped the guards too many times to count. He won’t get caught, won’t be seen, won’t be imprisoned. And he certainly won’t end up dead. Not if he has something to say about it. Which he really hoped he did… That devil can’t be that bad, can he?

There wasn’t much left of the road ahead, but Ro had to make a pit-stop by the lake near-by. No matter how poor, Roman won’t step a foot in front of King without looking at least somewhat presentable.

He washed his face, ran a hand through his hair. Played around with it a little to make it look somewhat decent. Then, squatted down on the shore. Looking into the water he watched as the surface glistened and moved around in the sun.

What if he doesn’t make it back? There won’t be anybody left to care for his poor mother… She’s in no condition to stay alone for more than a few days. He can’t-

He can’t think like that! Splashing his face once more he pushed himself up and gave one last grin at his reflection. “Let’s do this.”

The moment he spotted the gates of the castle he felt completely out of place. Makes sense, since merely two hours ago he robbed the guard-quarters.

It was so weird actually walking in through the gates. He has never done that and he’s been to the castle several times now (not that anybody knew about it…). Nonetheless, he marched on, keeping his head high, shoulders straight and a confident grin on his face.

“I’m here to see their Majesty.” he said to the men guarding the enormous entrance.

They looked at him as if what he just said was the most ridiculous thing in the world! “Pfff, you?” the two men burst out laughing.

“Yes, me.” He gave them a confident grin, trying not to squirm in the face of lauter. “You have a problem with that?”

“Hmm, no not at all!” one said, both still laughing.

And so, Roman found himself walking into the big castles, for once through the actual entrance.

A beautiful garden and a hallway decorated with gold later, he stood in front of a high throne with a short, bald round person barely fitting into it. The King.

He… didn’t expect that sight. Stories about the King were much more unreal then the once about the crown it seems. But no matter, Roman shook of the shock and marched on, stopping right in front of the ruler. The guards stepped aside, watching his every move with very amused, very expectant gazes.

“Your Majesty!” he bowed down deep. “It’s such a pleasure to be standing here.”

The ruler gave him a once over and the disgust wasn’t exactly subtle in their eyes. Not only did they not take kindly to thieves, they also seemed to not much like simple folks like Roman or the other villagers. This… wasn’t how Roman planned this. But there was no backing down now. He pulled his smile a bit tighter and his shoulders a bit straighter.

“Why are you here?” came the Kings bored answer. He already lost his interest. Great!

The guards snickered on the side-lines. Roman gave them a harsh look and turned back to the King, smiling again. “Your Grace, I’d like to try and retrieve the Crown of Hell.”

That made the old person crack up. Not just a bit, but completely full-on uncontrollable laughter. “You?”

“What we said!” one of the men pointed out, laughing along with the crowned one.

“Yes. Me.” Roman said, kind off offended at this point. What made him any less then these dressed up sissies? “Unlike all these other stuck-up powdered-noses, I have all the skills needed to steel a crown. I am agile, fast, can hide much easier without all that unnecessary clothing and I have something none of those parade parrots have.”

“Oh really? And what would that be?” the mock tone of the King made Ro’s blood boil.

“Will, your Majesty. Unlike them, I have something to fight for.”

“Many have tried and many have failed. But if you think you’ll succeed, I won’t stop you.” their Majesty shrugged, completely uninterested once again.

"I don’t think I’ll succeed; I know I will.” There wasn’t much he could do to win their attention back, but he decided to chance it. “I only have a single request to make and I’ll be on my way.”

“Ts! Look at him! He barges in here in those… rags and demands a request! The audacity this young man has!” one of the guards commented. The other snorted.

The King just gave him a look and turned his gaze back to the villager. “Yes?”

“If I- If I don’t come back- please take care of my mother. She’s sick and she needs the care. If I die in wain in your name, I’d like for your doctors to take of her.”

“That- can be arranged.” the King nodded slowly, thinking. Unknown to Roman, they were contemplating how could they get out of this situation. If the man should die, nobody will know about this deal. Their men won’t tell no one. And so, no doctors have to be involved. “Yes.”

The relieved breath roman let out, spoke a thousand words. “Thank you, dear King! I promise, in two days’ time, I’ll be standing in front of you with the Devils crown!”

“We’ll see…” smiled the King. A chilly fake smile that promised no good. But Ro wasn’t paying attention anymore. He missed the look their Majesty gave the Guards and the way the guards stifled their laughter.

He was already thinking up a plan how to go about this.

Not long after, he was walking into the woods, stepping on branches and old leaves. Whistling his tune, he walked around aimlessly hoping he would eventually find what he was looking for. The entrance to Hell.

And oh boy, if he just knew what he got himself into! But poor Roman had no idea.

By the time he walked through half of the forest, night fell. Moon barely shined through the thick tree-tops. Stars weren’t even visible! And the branches were getting thicker and thicker! Roman's already thorn clothing was getting dirtier and more thorn by the minute.

“Goddamned trees!” he cursed. “I didn’t think it’d be this hard to find He-“ he tripped on a root and fall face first to the ground. “Oh, DODDAMN IT!!!”

He growled angrily, entangling himself from the roots and tried to stand up. He was barely sitting up when his eyes fall onto something very out of place.

A wooden sign. He hurriedly stood up and rushed over to it. With big red (and very ugly, he might ad) letters, the words “Hell - this way” glared at Roman.

Well. Either this was a cruel joke, or demon’s just like directions. Either way, Roman continued in the direction the sign was pointing. And low-and-behold, a giant gaping cave.

And stuck to its rocky exterior was another sign. The same ugly handwriting.

“Welcome to hell - continue in”

Hah... Guess demons really do like directions.

--------------------------------------------------

Another part! Yay!

And we’re finally getting somewhere. Next time you hear from me, Roman will be deep in the heart of Hell B)

But for now, I hope you liked it <3

Tag list_

@alice-only-me

#demon/thief au #Virgil the king of hell #Roman the thief #of the devil's head #hell #the King #guards #some good signs #ts virgil #ts roman #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #what else should I tag?#prinxiety

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keelywolfe · 4 years ago

Text

FIC: Welcome to Backwater ch.12 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Stretch has some wheels now and he has directions, now he only needs to start down the path!

Read ‘Down the Garden Path’ on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

Stretch’s good mood lasted right about as long as it took to get back to the store. Not that he replaced it with a bad mood, nah, he was still pretty darn cheerful. But now that paybacks were done, it was time to put on his working hat, so to speak. To begin with, his new bike needed a thorough checking over; a skeleton could not travel on wheels alone, not unless he went back for roller skates. He needed to make sure the rest of the bike would get him to where he needed to go, too.

There was a ramshackle garage squatting behind the store, the siding a grungier match to the building up front and the cracked windows too filthy to peer inside. The roll-up door was rusted shut, but the side door was unlocked. Stretch opened it a crack and dared to look inside, braced for anything. Bats, rats, creepy crawlies, who the hell knew what grew inside the sheds in a town with possibly man-eating corn.

If there were any beasties, crawly or otherwise, they stayed hidden behind the wispy cobwebs or in their holes. What he did find was a lot of junk, piled in heaps, spilling out of bins and stacked on shelves. There was enough crap that if Red wanted, he could start a side business as a resale shop and give Miss Maggie some competition, mysterious message from the oracle not included, although tetanus was still on the table.

As curious as some of the objects were, and damn, he could stir up some trouble on the /whatisthisthing reddit with all this, now was not the time for distractions from the main questline, not when victory was in sight.

It didn’t take too much rummaging to find a bike pump and a small metal toolbox that for a wonder, actually had tools in it. He carried both back into the sunshine where the patient was waiting and got to work.

Stretch was never going to earn a paycheck as a handyman, but he did know a little about bicycles. Chara had one and so did their friends and he’d gotten suckered into helping with maintenance a few times by a set of big brown eyes pleading their case. Even had his own bike back home, though it hadn’t been used in a long time. A nice little ten speed with glittery orange paint and a thick padded seat to make up for his lack of pillowy booty surrounding his tailbone. Once upon a time, that bike got pretty decent amount of use, but that fairytale wasn’t one he wanted to get into right now.

This old rattletrap had exactly two speeds; go and stop. The tires were a little bald, but luckily, they took air without issue. The chain was rusty, but it responded readily to some WD-40 lubing and a little foreplay, the tramp. He checked all the bolts and sprockets, wiped off the seat and the little wire basket, and for good measure, gave the horn a good squeeze, setting off a hoarse ‘awooga’ into the still afternoon. Height was a bit of an issue, Stretch wasn’t ever gonna earn the nickname ‘short stuff’, not unless the next fairytale he stumbled into was Jack and the Beanstalk, but he managed to get the seat up enough that he wouldn’t jam himself in the chin with a knee.

Once he was done, he wheeled the bike out to the road and gave it a test drive, tooling up and down the main road. It worked fine, the tires crunching over the gravel, and when he gave the horn a honk as he sailed past Mama’s, he could see people looking through the windows at him, some of them raising their hands in a wave.

He turned around past the sheriff’s and headed back, pedaling slowly. The inkling of an idea was taking hold at the back of his mind, winding its way in like paint dripping down a wall and puddling in his brain pan. Yeah, the bike was fine and all, but he’d been ‘fine’ pedaling along back in Ebott, hadn’t he. Taking little rides in the traditional manner on his shiny, fancy bike that he hadn’t bought and didn’t use the other nine speeds on.

Well, he wasn’t in Ebott anymore, and maybe fine wasn’t good enough. All things could use a little improvement, right, even bikes.

Decision made, he headed back to the shed. He didn’t know if any of this crap was Red’s (and seriously, what was that thing with the handles and the springs, it looked like an eggbeater on steroids) or if it’d been here when he moved in, but it was all covered with enough dust that there probably wasn’t anyone around to mourn the loss. The rolling door responded to a tickle and grope of WD-40 as well as the bike chain had and Stretch ran it up, forging his way through the trash jungle. He managed to clear out enough space to haul out the bulky item he’d noticed early partially hidden under a drop cloth and got to work.

By the time he was nearly done, he was sweaty and filthy, but about ready to celebrate his triumph and thank the Academy. He’d shed his t-shirt, using it instead as a rag to wipe his forehead and if anyone spotting him as they walked down the sidewalk had a problem with his bare bones, no one made a fuss about it like they would have back in Ebott. There was a whole Karen Brigade back there worried about nudity and Monsters, seriously, those people would force a moldsmal into some boxer shorts if they had a chance.

He glanced up at the bang of the side door closing to see Red and the dog headed his way. Red was carrying a brimming glass of iced sweet tea as he limped along. He cursed with colorful flair as the dog danced its way in front of him, making him slop tea over his fingers as he tried not to trip himself with his own cane. He aimed a halfhearted kick at the dog that missed by a mile. The dog only barked gleefully, darting over to Stretch, tongue at the ready for a taste test to verify Stretch was as yummy today as he’d been last night.

Stretch only laughed and tried to hold the dog back in a feeble effort to avoid those eager licks. “easy, pal, you saw me a couple hours ago!”

“he probably don’t remember, mutt has a brain the size of a peanut,” Red growled. He handed it over the tea wordlessly, giving the newly-redesigned bike a once-over as Stretch gulped it down gratefully.

“what the hell are you up to out here?” Red asked. He paused by the remains of the push lawnmower that was laid open like an autopsy, poking it absently with his cane, “and what happened here?

“i…uh…may have borrowed the engine,” Stretch admitted sheepishly.

“borrowed,” Red snorted. “uh huh. seen this kind of borrowing before, usually turns into keepsies right quick.”

“i can put it back—” Stretch started uncertainly. Red waved him off, watching in bemusement as the dog took advantage of the distraction to lick right into Stretch’s mouth and left him sputtering in disgust.

“nah, ain’t used the damn thing in ages,” Red said. “i pay a local kid to mow these days. may as well donate the innards before it gets buried.”

No surprise there. Even after last night's stormy weather tantrum, the ground had dried right up again in the morning sunshine. The mud puddles all dried into cracked divots and whatever grass was left was a charming shade of dead. Walking across it was like taking a stroll through a giant bowl of shredded wheat,

Red wandered back to the bike, his browbone slowly rising as he examined it. “you get that from old madge?” he asked neutrally.

Stretch closed his sockets briefly to block him out. The glass in his hand was down to rapidly melting ice cubes and dripping with condensation. He pressed to cool surface to his forehead, letting the cold wetness soothe him as he said, "okay, what. what's wrong with it.”

Red gave him a startled look, “huh?"

“no, i mean it,” Stretch said insistently. “don’t blow smoke up my ass, what's wrong? do purchases from her come with a darker, deeper price unknown? is all her shit haunted? does riding it commit my soul to the forces of evil? if I rub it does a genie come out, what?” He waved a hand at the possibly monster bike and not the kind of Monster listed on his personal I.D. “tell me now, don’t play sphinx with me, not today.”

Red snorted loudly and pulled out a little cylinder from his pocket. He shook out a toothpick and stuck it between his teeth. “nah, but it might break on ya two miles down the road.” His grin turned wolfish. “getting a little paranoid, dontcha think, city boy?”

“no,” Stretch said, shortly.

Red only chuckled. “only thing wrong with that bike is what you frankensteined onto it. hope that thing actually runs or blowing smoke up your ass is gonna be the least of your problems.”

“it’ll run.” Okay, so he was about 95% sure it was gonna run. Maybe 90%. The engine he’d scavenged from the old lawnmower was strapped to the package carrier on the back of the bike, hooked up to the back wheel with a few extra gears and chain he’d dug out of the garage and he’d jerry-rigged a sort of throttle to the handlebars. It wasn’t pretty, but he was sure it would run without blowing up. Pretty sure.

Sure enough to give it a try, anyway.

“uh huh,” Red rolled the toothpick to the other corner of his mouth with his tongue, neat trick around those sharky teeth of his. “where ya think your headed on that death trap, anyway?”

Yeah, okay, that brought him up short. Aside from warning him off of any booty calls, (not that Stretch was looking for any shape of booty and sure as hell wasn’t taking any calls), Red had been pretty mum when it came to opinions about him hanging out with Edge. Stretch wasn’t under any illusions that Red was unaware of the happenings in town and not only because Edge probably damn well called him so they could keep their mystery woo woos on the same frequency. Red seemed like he knew all the local gossip, hell, he was probably the unofficial town bookie, who knew what he got up to on those weekend poker games?

But Edge was Red’s baby brother and as a big brother himself, Stretch was pretty sure he’d have some mighty strong opinions on Blue inviting someone like him out for pie, much less inviting them home to meet the family. No prospects, nothing ahead of him in life. Hell, he wasn’t even wearing underwear.

And anyway, like he had any right to any fucking opinions about Blue’s life after the way he left—nope, not going there right now.

So, yeah, it wasn’t that he didn’t want to admit he was going to see Edge, except how he really didn’t. He didn’t want to see any disappointment on Red’s face or distaste or…or whatever ‘dis’ might sprout up and if Red told him to leave his bro alone, told him not to go, Stretch wouldn’t, he would never, he owed Red so much, owed him in ways Red didn’t even know about, but—but—

His mental waffling took far too long, and Red was unfortunately just as clever as Stretch feared or maybe it was the simple fact that the options of where someone could go in this town on a motorized bicycle was a pretty short list. One corner of Red’s mouth curled up in a half-smile. “headed out to the farm, huh.”

Stretch struggled with an answer and didn’t manage anything better than the obvious, “i think so?” he said meekly, “i mean, edge sort of invited me. not invited invited, it’s not like a date, not that i wouldn’t date him, except you know, i wouldn’t because it’s a bad idea right now like you said, but he said i should meet his roommate and that I’d have to go to his house to do it and—" Stretch broke off to gasp for breath and his ‘fuck, please kill me to shut me up’ was left unspoken.

“okay, okay, ease down on the gas there. you must think i'm missing my wits on top of my foot.” Red snorted. “go wherever you want, kid, don’t make me no nevermind.” The dog was settled into Stretch’s lap, sound asleep and drooling enthusiastically, and Red leaned over to give him a pat, then struggled back up to give Stretch a similar one on top of his skull. He glanced at the bike again and asked speculatively, “’bout how fast you figure this hunk a junk can go?”

“not sure,” Stretch admitted, “not too fast. maybe twelve miles an hour?”

“that a fact,” Red spat the toothpick into the dust and sucked loudly on his teeth. “hang on a mo’.” He limped through the open garage door and the sound of brisk rummaging echoed out. When he came back, grinning triumphantly, it was a bicycle helmet in hand. It was leopard-spotted, only that hideous pink-and-purple shade never graced any beast Stretch ever heard about. Perched on the top of the helmet were a pair of slightly bedraggled plastic cat ears and Stretch took it as solemnly as if he’d been handed Excalibur itself. Beggar vs chooser? Not him.

Red stuck his hands in his pockets, his cane hooked over his elbow as he rocked unsteadily on his heels, “well c’mon, then, start ’er up. i can’t stand out here forever, someone’s gotta mind the store.”

“oh!” Stretch gave the back door a guilty look, “shouldn’t you head in, someone might loot the register or something.”

“no one steals from my shop.” Coolly assured and yeah, Stretch believed it, and not only because the townsfolk were good people.

Stretch pushed the dog off his lap, ignoring its pitiful whine, and went to the bike. Here was the moment of truth. He gave the primer button a few pushes, then yanked the pull cord as hard as he could. It didn’t catch the first time, or the second, but on the third it sputtered a few times, coughed out a cloud of black smoke, then caught, puttered evenly along.

“see!” Stretch said triumphantly, speaking loudly to be heard over the blatting noise. “it didn’t blow up!”

“don’t know if that’s as reassuring as you seem to think, kid,” Red called back, but his grin was easy, “you know how to get there?”

Stretch cut the engine. He snagged his dirty t-shirt and made a fruitless attempt at wiping the grease off his hands. “down the exchange for about a mile, hang a left, don’t stray from the path.”

“s’right,” Red nodded, “you leave soon, you'll get there right around suppertime and that’s always a good time to show up on my bro’s doorstep.”

“thanks, red,” Stretch said gratefully, “thank you.”

“don't thank me yet. and kid?” Red’s crimson gaze seemed to bore into him, “whatever you see or hear, don't you leave that path."

Well, Stretch should’ve known he wasn’t getting out of here without at least a vaguely cryptic warning.

“i won’t, promise.”

Red nodded and started the slow trudge back to the store. The dog roused himself enough to follow along, tail wagging happily. Red paused at the door and called back, “tell the kid i said hi.”

“i will, but didn’t you just see edge this morning?” Stretch asked curiously.

“didn’t mean him.” Before he could ask, Red was gone back inside with a bang of the screen door, taking both dog and answers with him.

Welp, chasing after him was pointless and anyway, that question would be answered as soon as he got to Edge’s place, which it seemed he now had Red’s unofficial approval to visit. Stretch couldn’t help grinning and he hugged himself tightly, managing to smear even more grease on his bones.

Yeah, okay, he needed at least five minutes for a quick wash up before he headed out or the woods would be the least of his worries. Edge and his roomie would kick him and his stank right back out to the road before he could make it to the porch.

Stretch left the bike and his mess where it was, promising himself guiltily to handle the junk cleanup tomorrow as he headed in to wash and change, and he did not spend an extra minute considering what t-shirt would make the best first impression for the unknown roommate.

He really didn’t.

~~*~~

The first thing Stretch figured out as he started on his journey was that it was honestly a nice day for a ride. Overhead the sky was an endless blue with only a few careless puffy clouds that had no interest in interfering with the affairs of the sun. The blowing wind wasn’t afraid though, it chased away the heat, and that combined with the blatting engine made it impossible to hear much of anything.

Not that there was much to hear. He stayed off the actual road, keeping to the wayside so as not to distract any of the cars as he puttered his way along.

The directions weren’t exactly complex, only one turn that he knew of, right into the woods. Stretch found it easily enough, the paved road vanishing into dust and gravel that led into the trees.

That was where he paused, easing off the throttle and putting his feet down as he looked at the entrance.

It was only trees, their tall, sturdy trunks reaching up towards the sky and the wide, green spread of their leafy branches casting the path in shadows. There were a pair of tire ruts in the path which meant someone drove it regularly and not just Edge’s motorcycle.

Only trees, that was all. Right, just like it’d only been corn, and Stretch didn’t move, sitting there with the engine blatting cheerily and the blue sky watching over him as he waited here on the cusp of…what? Fate? Or fatality?

There was only one way to find out.

Behind him, a couple trucks zoomed on past on their way down the exchange, either heedless of his inner turmoil or foolishly assuming he knew what he was doing and honestly, he wasn’t sure he’d known what he was doing for years now.

His concerns weren’t all simply about traveling in these woods, either, despite them being the same ones Red warned him away from and no less than two people went off with the cryptic about not straying from the path. No, there was also the fact he was gonna be meeting Edge’s unknown roommate to ask questions about some of the mysteries of this place and he’d be lying if he didn’t attribute a nervous butterfly or two to that.

The blat of a horn nearly sent him leaping right out of his shorts and when he jerked around, barely catching his balance before both he and the bike spilled into the dust, he saw a group of Humans in the back of a pickup truck waving at him and probably laughing at his helmet.

He waved back, unable to help a sheepish grin, and then turned back to the path. The trees only rustled softly in the light breeze, branches lightly swaying. It didn’t seem scary and hell, he knew scary. Scary was the first time he stepped out into the sunlight after a lifetime beneath a mountain and scary was another first step, much more recently, this time onto a Greyhound bus.

“fuck it,” Stretch said, aloud. He goosed the throttle, the bike lurching forward into the woods, and the trees swallowed him up.

Only not really, not even close. Stretch really didn’t know what he’d really been expecting. That maybe he’d come across a little gal in a red hood with a picnic basket for grandma heading down the path? Or he’d stumble over some kids with a nasty stepmother backstory on a stroll, scattering breadcrumbs along the way?

Neither of those things came true. (Although if Edge and his roommate lived in a gingerbread house, he was done. He was turning his putt-putt mobile around and heading right out of this fairy tale, tout suite, and into another story. Maybe he’d see if Red’s swashbuckler needed a first mate.)

There was nothing out of the ordinary, not even the creepy vibes that the corn had given him. The woods seemed no different than wandering through the city park in Ebott.

It was a lot cooler here in the woods, not only from the speed breeze. The heavy branches were also shielding him from the overpowering heat of the sun overhead, shading him in cooling green. There were squirrels and birds darting around overhead, unperturbed by his puttering little engine-that-could, and once a deer even crossed the road in front of him, pausing to stare unafraid with large liquid eyes before heading back into the scrubby underbrush.

Hell, if he was honest, Stretch was almost disappointed. Not that he’d wanted anything to happen, he didn’t exactly relish the idea of Red having to make that search party to find his dumb ass.

But after all those warnings, he’d sort of expected something to happen, a little trouble of some kind to be peeking out from behind the trees. Then again, he’d heeded those warnings, hadn’t he, it was always the disobedient types who got turned into frogs or had flower petals spill from their mouths when they talked, wasn’t it. His interest in adventure was definitely on the other side of the scale over his desire not to spit slugs or something, so he was erring on the side of not borrowing trouble.

His disappointment in the woods vanished completely though as he came up on what Red had so quaintly referred to as ‘the farm’.

The dinky path rounded a curve, the trees opening up into a clearing, and Stretch could only stare, dumbly easing down on the throttle until the bike slowed to a stop.

Well, it looked like all his expectations were taking a trip through the funhouse today, now didn’t it.

After seeing Red’s place, he hadn’t really been thinking much about the state of Edge’s homestead, what was there to consider, anyway? It was a cabin in the woods…on a farm…okay, so his logic was a little thin, he hadn’t prepped his anticipation very well on the journey. But whatever he’d imagined paled in comparison to reality.

The actual house looked like a log cabin, sure, but one that took a nibble from Alice’s ‘eat me’ cake. It was huge, with large windows shuttered in green beneath a wide, gabled roof trimmed in scrolling eaves, and a covered porch lined with cozy rocking chairs circling the first floor. Flat stones made a winding walkway that led to the front door and there were flowers lining the path in a riot of brilliant, ankle-high colors. Smoke was curling from the rooftop despite the overall warmth of the day and it scented the air with the welcoming aroma of woodsmoke.

The overall effect was one of one of invitation and Stretch was immediately suspicious of it; not a gingerbread house, no, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a witch inside.

Then the door opened and all the doubts flitting through Stretch’s mind dissolved into impossible static. He could only stare numbly at the person that darted down the path towards him, their hair bouncing beneath their chin as they scampered down the path because it was…it was impossible.

A young human, maybe only a couple years younger than him, and they looked so much like Chara it was downright disturbing, the resemblance taking a detour from possible siblings right into uncanny valley. So much like Chara, only, Chara was just a kid, a kid, and this person who couldn’t be Chara, could not be, but looked as if they’d aged like fine wine since he’d last seen them. Or maybe curdled like old milk.

“Hello, Stretch,” they said, warmly, those familiar eyes shining, and their smile was as bright as the sun that was hidden behind the trees, “Welcome to our home.”

~~*~~

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #underfell sans #welcome to backwater

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gloves94 · 4 years ago

Text

Sunburn [Prince Zuko] 5

Warnings: None Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Zuko/OC Summary: “You have everything you’ve ever wanted.” “No.” He said softly. “Not everything…” His golden eyes looked at her with a melting intensity she had never witnessed before. “I guess not.” She responded with glassy eyes as tears welled up threatening to break the dam of her eyes.

My fanfiction: M A S T E R L I S T

"Admiral Zhao is not allowing ships in or out of this area." A soldier from Commander Zhao's fleet had stepped into Team Zuko's. He had basically barged in an demanded that the prince hand over all information in regards of the Avatar. And here Iroh the ever optimistic thought they were here for a game of Pai Sho.

"I've got nothing to report to Zhao," Zuko stated coldly as he looked at the floor and then glared at the soldiers that stood before him. "Now off my ship!" He roared casting Tsai to jump slightly as he pointed them out.

'Who is this Zhao?'

Tsai knew that it wasn't hard to get under Zuko's skin, but there was something about this man that seemed to really irritate him. Or maybe it was the fact they had been sailing northeast without a single sighting in the past couple of days. Not knowing much about the war or its generals or commanders she remained clueless to his man's identity, but would he would he have to crawl over her dead body if she was just going to let somebody take her destiny of bringing peace to the Fire Nation world. Approaching the table she read over a wanted poster that some of the soldiers were looking at.

"It says here that the Avatar can create tornadoes and run faster than the wind," one of the soldiers read aloud in awe. "Pretty amazing!" Another said.

Tsai blinked twice taken aback when an image of a boy no older than twelve which was painted on the poster. He was just a child, a bald child with eager eyes and a tattooed arrow pointing down the middle of his forehead. "But he's just a child," she gaped in surprise. All this time she had been imagining a very old man. But if he was a child- why on Earth hadn't Zuko been able to capture him?

She didn't know much about air benders. No one did, after all they had been extinct for the past one hundred years. Part of her wished the ship had a library where she could research information about the Avatar, but wait maybe there was something she could do...

"Tsai, care to join us for a game of Pai Sho? I think they are getting better," Iroh called. "I'll pass for now. I have to write to my family," it wasn't a complete lie. "Good luck gentleman," she smiled sweetly at the men making some of them swoon.

Xxx

'Brother,

I hope you are well. I know I have been gone less than a week. I hope you don't miss me too much. I also wish I could tell you where I am, but it is hard to pin point. We are presently sailing northwest hot on the Avatar's trail. Can you believe it?

Iroh has been a most gracious host. I enjoy spending time with him, he really reminds me of grandpa, and the prince well- tell mother not to get too excited, but he does have some redeeming qualities (and a terrible temper as well).

Mecha, I need to ask you yet another favor. Please send me all information you might have on air benders or air bending. Turns out the Avatar is only a child! A slippery one that is if he's had Prince Zuko chasing him all over the world with no success.

Lots of love to the family,

- Your Sister Tsai'

Tsai came down from the commander tower after having sent out a fire hawk home to her brother. Coming down she encountered a fire show of the prince angrily kicking and punching bold strokes of dangerous fire in all directions. He even appeared to be radiating anger.

"Hey, you O.K.?" She found herself asking once again. She put her hands on her waist as she eyed him carefully barely dodging a fire blast which headed in her direction. Part of her suspected that had not been an accident. He wore a maroon training tunic that showed off his toned arms.

"Perfectly fine," he grumbled. Obviously not pleased. "Is it because of that man Zhao?" She pressed on. "We can't give up yet! We can still find the Avatar before him," she said in a determined tone. "We?"He scoffed incredulously.

As far as he knew Tsai brought nothing to table except for maybe tea and Pai Sho. She nodded holding a fist to her chest a determined glint in her honey brown eyes. "I know we can do it!"

"She's right Prince Zuko," Iroh suddenly appeared. "I was becoming worried when you hadn't ordered your men in the past hour."

"How? With Zhao's resources, it's just a matter of time before he captures the Avatar," he stated upset. He turned and lowered his voice into almost a whisper, "My honor, my throne, my country... I'm about to lose them all." A somber gust of wind passed by.

Seeing him like this. Seeing anybody like this broke the girl's mushy heart. She looked at him sadly.

"But you have something Zhao doesn't have!" She said animatedly.

Both Iroh and Zuko turned to look at her with expecting eyes. "Something worth fighting for!"

His fists clenched at his sides in fury. "That's absolutely useless!" He roared in frustration. She flinched a little at his tone. I mean she was only trying to help...

"Prince Zuko, a word from Zhao's men. Apparently the Admiral has the Avatar on his compound grounds."

Tsai closed her eyes not wanting to witness the volcano that was about to explode in front of her. 'Talk about bad timing.' Her hair was whipped wildly by several heat waves.

Shutting her eyes even tighter she set her mind to it, she was determined to do something about this. If Zhao had the Avatar that meant that the odds of her having a chance at achieving her grandfather's dream would be destroyed.

Xxx

It was already the evening. Zuko braced himself for the battle that he would encounter tonight. He put his twin blades on his back and shed his princely identity becoming a Blue Spirit of the night. He was ready to sneak out when a gentle knock made him freeze on the spot.

"H-Hey," a voice said softly.

It was Tsai.

"I'm really sorry about today. Just know I'm going to try my best to help out more from now on. I understand if you're still upset. Well, have a good night then." He hadn't realized that he had been holding his breath all of this time. He slowly released it when he heard her foot steps trail off.

Meanwhile Tsai tip toed around the ship until she reached the deck where some of the soldier's were currently lounging keeping their night guard.

"Gentleman," she coed in a soft voice.

Their jaws dropped at the sight. One wolf whistled inappropriately. They were basically salivating at the sight of the lady before them. Her eyes were coated with cleverly applied dark make up, more than she usually wore. Perfect for an evening look. Her lips were rogue and her features had been professionally contoured. Crimson hair cascaded down her back in full waves. "Anybody feel like taking me ashore?" She popped her hip to the side dramatically batting her eyelashes.

A few moments later Tsai was ashore standing outside the gates of the Pohuai Stronghold She noted the way it was heavily armed and had no trouble batting her eyelashes getting inside. One of the few advantages of war was that these men hadn't seen a woman in ages.

xxx

"Tell me, how does it feel to be the only airbender left?" Zhao taunted the Avatar as he rounded him in a chamber. "Do you miss your people?" He pressed on leaning maliciously close towards the boy.

Taking in a massive breath the Avatar blew the man hard against the metal door making him lose his balance and ungracefully fall on his face. "Blow all the wind you want. Your situation is futile. There is no escaping this fortress and nobodyis coming to rescue you." He scowled.

"Admiral Zhao," a soldier suddenly entered the chamber. "You better come quick Sir." he urged, "Y-You've got an important guest," he adjusted his helmet his face slightly turning scarlet.

Zhao raised an eyebrow with intrigue. He had not been expecting anybody. Could it have been that Fire Lord Ozai had sent a personal gift to him? He ran a hand through his hair combing it down in a narcissistic matter.

Xxx

Tsai had been brought to a waiting room which wasn't nearly as elegant as the one in her home. She sat comfortably with a relaxed expression on her features, her poise and feet had been placed in a strategic way which she knew highlighted her best features. (She had also stuffed her bra with two apples although she would never confess that to anyone). She wore a flattering emerald green kimono dress that fit her in all the right places a jade butterfly clip held half of her hair up elegantly.

"I wasn't expecting any company tonight." A man whom Tsai assumed to be Admiral Zhao walked in. He air of arrogance seemed to follow him. He was a middle-aged military man with dark gray hair and sharp sideburns that made his features appear more angular. A smug smirk twisted on his lips. "Ms. Haru of Hu Xin," his eyes scanned her body tracing every curve and inch of her visible skin.

"I had heard tales of the man, the myth, the legend-"

Tsai almost threw up in her mouth. She could not believe she had just said that. It was official she had been reading way too many cheesy plays. As disgusting as this was, she had a plan, and a part to play if she wanted to succeed. She rose to her feet slightly draping one of the sleeves down to display a bare shoulder. "Had to come see it myself. Meet the infamous Admiral Zhao." She spoke as she rounded him. His eyes followed her, enjoying every minute of having his ego stroked. "Congrats on the promotion," she spoke lowly in an attempt to sound both older and more mature. How old was he anyways?

"How old are you Haru?" He said with an edge of suspicion raising up an eyebrow. "Didn't your mother ever tell you it was rude to ask a lady for her age?" She let out a throaty chuckle as she flirted. "I'm almost twenty," she lied with skill tossing him back a look.

Tsai lied through her teeth the entire night. She had managed to convince a high ranking military officer, an admiral, that she was around town visiting her cousin and upon hearing the news that the now 'famed' admiral was in town, well she just had to visit. It was such an absurd lie and Zhao appeared to be such an ego maniac that he totally ate it up. The two were currently sitting on one of the sofa seats. Both were drinking some wine that the admiral had been reserving for a special occasion. With every minute that passed he inched closer and closer to her wanting more than just hand holding or gentle strokes. Tsai's ruse was beginning to collapse. She had to get out of here and fast. She chuckled nervously as the man stroked her waist and slowly inched his hand lower and lower. He was also leaning in closer-

"Ah-I'm-Um.. I need to use the restroom!" She declared jumping to her feet. The Admiral collapsed on the sofa and turned to look at her with an elbow propped holding his head up. "Don't be long," he purred.

Knowing him he probably found his intimidation to be 'endearing' or something twisted amongst those lines.

The girl tiptoed out in to the hallway and let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding once she was out of his sight. Great- now she had to find the Avatar. If she was Zhao were would he keep the Avatar? Probably close by, tall in this tower. She rushed up the stairs running as fast as she could. She really had no time to waste.

Xxx

The Blue Spirit had successfully infiltrated Zhao's compound base. He snuck in floor by floor until he reached the top of the tower. However, he was surprised when he did not encounter any soldiers. Only evidence of a conflict. Abandoned helmets rolled down the empty hallways. Marks of conflicts, stains of blood and slashes had scarred the walls of the military compound.

There was also water in the floor and a wooden bucket which had been smashed to bits and pieces.

'Just- what happened here?' Zuko thought to himself. His eyes narrowed in suspicion. Somebody had beat him to it. There was somebody else here.

xxx

Aang heard what sounded like punched being thrown followed by painful screams. He brazed himself and kept his eyes focused on the steel door that was across from him. It was then that the door opened and a beautiful woman walked in. She exhaled sharply quickly running her hands through her wavy red colored hair combing it back into place. His jaw dropped as she ran towards him. Her emerald dressing robes fluttering behind as she did.

"There's no time," she stood before him and upon closeness Aang realized she was only a teenager. One in a very poor disguise. "Who are y-" He began to ask. "No time," she hissed glaring and pulled an apple from the inside of her robe slamming it against his open mouth silencing him. She appeared to be picking at the locks with the back of her hair pin. It was then that the door behind the two was once again shut.

xxx

Both Aang and Tsai couldn't believe what they were seeing an individual wearing black with a Blue Spirit theater mask entered the room. Aang bit the apple hard the fruit collapsing on the floor as he swallowed almost choking on the piece of apple.

Xxx

Zuko blinked twice, shook to his core. He was thankful for the mask for it hid his expression of shock and disbelief. Was he hallucinating?

'How had- there was no way- but- it had to be.'

Pulling out his twin blades be began an elaborate display of mastery over the blades. The Avatar let out a loud scream. The lady wearing the emerald dress kimono stood before him pushing him behind, shielding him with her body.

"Shh!!" She hissed as the Avatar screeched for his life. The masked individual came closer and evenly sliced the Avatar's hand restrains. Aang felt his arms drop as the blood rush back to them. The Avatar and his lovely savior looked at the masked individual in shock.

Xxx

Zuko stood mere inches away from her. Now he was more certain than ever. It was most definitely her. It was Tsai and she appeared to be wearing some type of disguise. Regardless, she looked-

He shook his head. He snapped back to reality realizing that both his uncle's royal guest and the Avatar were starring at him with their eyes the size of golf balls. He lowered his weapons also freeing the Avatar's feet. Tsai and Aang exchanged a look as Zuko walked towards the door. "What's going on?"

The red-headed beauty slowly walked over to the Blue Spirit. Her light brown eyes were focused on him. Friend or foe? She measured her opponent. There was something familiar about his stance, about his posture, something that she couldn't put her finger on.

It was impossible. Zuko remained in shock. Not a single hair out of place, her clothes remained impeccable with no signs of struggle. He looked at her hands both resting at her sides without a weapon.

Also- how on Earth had she even gotten of the ship?

"I think he's here to save you," she spoke after making a decision. Sticking a hand into her dress she pulled out an apple from her chest, her expression serious. "Listen here," She reached for the spirit's dark shirt and fisted it pulling the mask close to her face. She paused for a moment attempting to catch a glimpse of any notable feature underneath the mask. "I have important things to do, places to be-" she hissed out. Her grip becoming tighter.

Zuko had never seen her like this, had never seen her eyes hold such darkness in them.

"I'm entrusting you with the Avatar Blue Spirit and I've got news for you. If anything happens to him. If there is a scratch on his bald head, a broken limb, if any harm comes to him-" Her hand trembled slightly before the apple she had been holding in her hand was crushed into a juice mash just with her grip strength. The message was loud and clear. "Got that?" She finished menacingly before letting go pushing the masked individual slightly.

"Wait!" Aang called out. "Who are you?!"

It was too late. She was gone.

xxxxx

FIRST https://gloves94.tumblr.com/post/621142853126602752/sunburn-prince-zuko-1

NEXT https://gloves94.tumblr.com/post/621233046237184000/sunburn-prince-zuko-6

PREV https://gloves94.tumblr.com/post/621143805670948864/sunburn-prince-zuko-4

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

#prince zuko #prince Zuko fanfic #prince Zuko x oc #zuko #oc #Zuko x oc #Zuko x reader #avatar fanfic #atla #avatar #katara #sokka #fluff #fanfic #fanfiction #avatar fanfiction #wattpad

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nat-roman0ff · 5 years ago

Text

honk honk

the sequel to ’beep beep’ that no one asked for

after a chance encounter and forgetting to get your phone number, shawn sets off on a quest to find you.

words: 2,220

warnings: extreme dumbassery, fender benders, and Instagram.

“Brian, please stop laughing, this is serious.”

Shawn rolls his eyes and smacks the gum in his mouth as his best friend of fourteen years laughs hysterically on the other side of the phone.

“Bro,” Brian hiccups between breaths, “this total stranger helped you find your car which you are an idiot for losing, by the way, and you’re like suddenly convinced she’s the one? You’ve completely lost it.”

“I’m not though!” Shawn defends, “She’s just...different.”

Brian sighs, “yeah aren’t they all.”

“Not like that!”

Brian clicks his tongue, “well what’s her name? Can you find her on Instagram or something?”

“I don’t know her first name.”

There’s a pregnant pause, “you really are a fucking idiot.”

“I know she drives a shitty Camry! And she’s a personal shopper.”

Shawn can hear Brian smack his forehead through the phone, “well then start back at the beginning.”

Shawn gulps and Brian answers.

“The mall, moron. Go back tomorrow around the same time and see if you can find her.”

Shawn lets out the breath he’s been holding onto since he watched you pull away, “Brian, you’re a genius!”

“Yeah, don’t mention it.”

Your day started pretty normally; gym, coffee shop, pick up dry cleaning. You hadn’t been able to get Shawn out of your head for days now, and you hoped he made it back home to Toronto for family time.

You thought about sending him an Instagram DM, but figured he probably got thousands a day and your measly little “remember me?” would go unnoticed in the sea of messages. He was also Shawn fucking Mendes, who had women richer and much more interesting at his disposal, what’d he want with you?

It was hard not to think about it, with his stupid face popping up everywhere and his stupid songs coming onto the radio. But you did your best to rid Shawn from your headspace.

So, it had been a normal day until your best friend called you, completely frantic.

“CHECK HIS INSTAGRAM OH MY GOD!” She yells before you can even answer with a hello.

“Huh?” You say, fumbling with the keys in your hand, “what the hell are you talking about?”

“Shawn!” She yells, blasting your ear drum, “he posted about you on Instagram!”

Your heart stops beating for a split second when you drop your keys and all the bags to the ground to pull up his page. His latest post was put up an hour ago, and is a simple selfie with the following caption:

Hey, I hope you follow me otherwise this would be really embarrassing. I feel like an idiot for not getting your phone number when we met and I really want to see you again. I waited for you where we met the last few days for hours on end but I never saw you. I hope you’re still around. If you do see this, pack an overnight bag and your passport and go to where we first met at 4:30 pm today. I did promise you a date, after all. - Shawn

“Oh my god. Oh my fucking God.”

“It’s crazy!” Your friend says, “the power of the internet, huh? So what are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know! Why do I need an overnight bag?”

“Bitch,” you friend starts, “if you do not go and meet him I will completely disown you.”

“Well when you put it that way -“

“Shut up,” she laughs, “you haven’t been able to stop talking about this guy and now he’s trying to find you? Modern romance at its finest. Love!”

You roll your eyes, “fine! I’ll go meet him. Let me go so I can pack a bag.”

“Alright, love you, tell me everything when you get back.”

Shawn checks his phone six times before shoving it into his pocket. He’d sent Jake to go pick you up at the parking garage while he finished up the last second arrangements. He’d chewed his nail beds to shit with nerves and prayed you’d seen his message and actually wanted to show up.

You’d managed to shove two extra outfits and a couple of essentials into a bag, secured your passport and made it to the garage with fifteen minutes to spare. You stood at the elevator waiting, adjusting the straps of your bag over and over, not that it was ever going to feel comfortable with the nerves you were feeling. This was the craziest thing you’d ever done. Where were you going? Where was he taking you?

Home. Shawn thinks.

One of the best pieces of advice he’d gotten when the fame started becoming just a little too much to bare was not to find home in a place but in people. Home wasn’t a smelly tour bus, or hotel rooms and it certainly wasn’t Los Angeles.

He saw a little bit of home in you. Even if it was just a neighboring window, for now.

It’s about five minutes past 4:30 when a black SUV pulls up beside you. The passenger window rolls down and a burly bald man looks over from the drivers seat.

“Hey are you here for Shawn?”

You gulp and nod, “you know him?”

He smiles a trusting smile and laughs, “unfortunately. I’m Jake, come on in the kid’s got a surprise for you.”

You crawl into the front seat, unsure to trust the man but hey, what’s the worst that could happen?

A lot of things now that you were thinking about it.

Jake isn’t a man of many words. He asks your name and you make small talk about your lives. You find out he’s a Taurus and his favorite book is Of Mice and Men. You tell him about your studies at university and your grandma’s famous shortbread recipe (which he makes you promise you’ll make for him), and he makes the short drive to the airport relatively painless.

He takes you to a different section of LAX, one that you’ve never been to before. There’s a small fleet of private jets scattered across the tarmac and a small, relatively empty terminal. Jake shows you inside, where the only person waiting for you is Shawn, tapping away mindlessly on his phone, his left knee bouncing up and down.

“I found someone for you,” Jake starts and Shawn’s head immediately perks up.

His hand clutches his chest and he walks up to you with bright, yet tired, honey eyes, “you have no idea how long I’ve waited for this - ”

You press your index finger to his lips to shush him, replacing them with your lips when he stops talking.

At least that’s how Shawn pictured it happening.

In reality, it’s quarter past five and you hadn’t shown up yet, Brian was feigning sleep in the passenger’s seat of the Range Rover, and Shawn had about two ounces of patience left in him.

“She probably didn’t feel anything at all. Was probably happy to get rid of me when we found the car, this is stupid,” Shawn grumbles as he sits on the hood of the SUV.

Brian mimics playing the violin, “no shit, Sherlock. Not everyone is entranced by your,” he waves his hands in the air, “aura and, like, wicked cool hair.”

Shawn rolls his eyes, “it just felt normal. I haven’t felt that in forever.”

“My heart is breaking for you,” his best friend deadpans.

He shoots Brian a glare through the windshield.

Discouraged, Shawn jumps down off the hood and gets back into the car. Unbeknownst to him, you’ve been waiting upstairs for nearly an hour now, on the level where you actually met. The boy’s attention to detail was not all quite there.

You debated giving up, he probably backed out, realized you were some nobody and he was like the universe’s biggest pop star at the moment. You felt stupid and played for getting your hopes up. You hate your friend for talking you into this and you hate Shawn for making it so damn public. The Instagram post has racked up over a million likes by now and countless comments and the whole thing makes you kind of queasy. This is so, so stupid and you can’t believe you’re caught up in it all.

Aggravated, pissed off and a teensy weensy bit hurt, you look at the packed overnight bag beside you, turn the car on and pull out of your parking spot.

The garage is busy this time of day, and you silently murder Shawn ten times over in your head for making you meet him at this time, and then not even having the audacity to show up. Your grip on the steering wheel tightens as you’re bumper to bumper with the car in front and behind you, car screaming as it idles.

“Why the fuck is everyone leaving at the same time!” Shawn shouts from behind the wheel one floor above you.

Brian rolls his eyes at his friend for the umpteenth time today, “because normal people work nine to five and it’s...five twenty right now.”

Shawn throws his head back against the headrest and groans, “I hate everything.”

“Oh come on, life isn’t that bad. So you got stood up by a girl who you’ve spent a total of three hours with. You don’t even know her name! No loss. Move on, man.”

Shawn doesn’t want Brian to be right, he wants him to be so wrong. He wants to believe that you’ve just hit a spot of traffic, or that you don’t have Instagram or anything. You can’t fake what happened between you two, even if he didn’t quite know what that is yet. It was the first time he’s laughed, first time he’s fucking forgotten who he was for half a second. And in the best way. He wasn’t looking over his shoulder waiting for a pap or a fan to spot him a click a picture, he was just Shawn and you were just...well, you.

He sighs, “I guess you’re right.”

He’s not.

Your brakes creak as you ride around the corner, a line of cars trying to slide out in front of you from the upper floor. As always the respectful driver, you let one person in, but three slip in front and you’re left stomping on your breaks and screaming obscenities.

“Dude you have to stop being such a pussy, just pull out in front of them!” Brian instructs as Shawn taps the brakes.

He scoffs, “absolutely not, I’m not getting my car all dented up just because you decided not to go to the bathroom before we left.”

Brian pouts and folds his arms across his chest, “I didn’t have to go before,” he grumbles to himself.

Just as you hit the gas to lurch forward before someone else can sneak in front of your car, you feel a bump against the back end of your vehicle.

“Oh you have got to be kidding me!” You scream to yourself.

By now cars are honking since you aren’t moving, you manage to pull off to the side and the guilty vehicle that hit you pulls up alongside, tinted windows up and in full effect.

LA dickwad.

The passenger’s side door opens and a young man pops out that you don’t recognize, and turning the corner behind the car comes Shawn.

“You hit my car! And you’re...here?”

Shawn looks awestruck at you, “did you see my post?!”

“Yes!” You squawk, “of course I saw it why the hell else would I be here? Where have you been? You’re late, and you dented my car!”

“Late?” He scoffs, “I was perfectly on time, you’re the one who is late. I was on my way out.”

“Ditto!”

Brian looks at you, to your car and then back to Shawn as he puts it together, “ohhh I get it now. Crappy car, weird sense of arousing fear while in her presence, that’s the girl.”

“My car is not crappy!” You snip.

Brian goes to say something but Shawn shakes his head at his friend.

“So you came?” Shawn’s voice is light, and his eyes are wide.

You roll yours, “yes of course I did! Where were you?”

He points up.

You bury your hands in your face, “wrong floor, idiot.”

Shawn’s face scrunches and you can pinpoint the second the lightbulb goes off in his head, “FUCK.”

“Yeah, fuck is right, dumbass.”

Brian snorts.

Shawn steps forward and puts his hands on either side of your pouting face, “well can I at least finally get your name and phone number?”

You nod between his massive palms, “yeah, you’re going to need it when I file an insurance claim against you for denting my car.”

He laughs and releases you, “still want to go on a date with me?”

You teeter back and forth on your heels, knowing you’re going to say yes but also wanting to watch Shawn sweat a bit, “maybe, I don’t know…”

“Don’t make me hit the other side of your car -”

“I’m kidding, I’d be very happy to still go on a date with you. Just leave Sir Louis out of it,” you smile, “where are we going?”

Brian puffs up his chest and steps in between the both of you, “we’re going to Canada, baby!”

#yeah there's gonna be a part 3 lmao #shawn mendes #Shawn Mendes Imagine #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fluff

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brideylee · 4 years ago

Text

Anti- Fan Fiction: James Woods and Robert Blake at Dan Tana’s

The air inside is hot, full of dust, and too many rotting mouths had ordered the lasagna. James Woods sits in his corner booth at Dan Tana’s in the main room with his eyes on the bar full of shouting men in suits. Some are West Hollywood slick fratties and others more smelly and introspective in itchy tweed from the land of 70s character actor city. Squeezed in between these men taking up more space than needed with either their narcissistic sadness or their loud, cologned bravado are some young women desperately trying to enjoy a martini at the historic restaurant, but instead are resigned to hear a bald someones life story and feeling many passing hands needlessly touch their bare backs as men hover and spill around them.

Woods watches disgustedly, he watches everything disgustedly: babies being born, the sunrise, an elderly woman saying “Hello, Deary”. It all makes him sick. His belly protrudes forward as he holds back a sudden burp and he releases some air through his famously skeezy lips as though exhaling cigarette smoke. He is repulsively sexy in his stony confidence. He checks his watch and decides to complain about something. Dead eyed with his arm stretched out, he points at a maitre de who is pushing 90 and is only meant to be looked at by tourists as a part of the ambiance. The command of Woods pointing hypnotizes the ancient man and he walks over in submission thinking this could hopefully be death itself beckoning him home.

Woods gives him his iconic half smile, where one side of his mouth stays in place while the other curls up his cheek as though being lifted by a fish hook, his head tips forward and his round dark eyes look up at him like an alcoholic father who “doesn’t want to have to discipline.” “Hey sarge, the bread is a little chewy, mind popping it in the microwave or something. I could break my teeth on it. And heat the butter up. It’s fresh, its just not soft.” Woods gets bored with himself half way through his criticism and winks at a woman at the bar whose glance regrettably fell on him. The maitre de with no capacity left to hear, nods and takes the bread away, disappointed to still be breathing.

Woods spots Tim Allen alone in a four person booth holding up a plate to his face, licking it feverishly. They lock eyes and give each other big, knowing smirks, like two people who both know where the body is. Allen gleefully goes back to lapping up the rest of the marinara, grease all over his chin, his napkin bib coming into good use. “Funniest man in America” Woods thinks to himself before being distracted by some plastic cleavage walking by.

Suddenly, the air in the restaurant cools as the door wafts open and a small shadowy figure enters with the silhouette of a miniature cowboy. “Finally.” James Woods says as Robert Blake plops down across from him “Are we angry?” Blake says defiantly with his headed tilted back, his lids hanging low and heavy across his beetle eyes. “There is this thing called time, Robert. I’ve been waiting here an hour.” Blake laughs with a childish grin crossing his face, and somehow in the smooth red lighting of Tana's, he looks twenty years younger, though still disturbingly gaunt, and getting more pale by the minute like a man whose only sustenance is the unease he inspires. He’s wearing a black velvet cowboy hat that looks too big for him, making him along with his small stature appear like an elderly child. “Time!” Blake regales with impish laughter as though hearing an old joke he hasn’t heard out loud in years. Woods stews, his eye twitches and he chews on the inside of his mouth. Blake’s laugher continues, even Tim Allen interrupts his slurping to peak at where this sinister chortling is coming from.

After a few minutes, Blake calms down and stares at Woods lovingly. “You were always funnier than me, Woods. Never give that up, you can fall back on it.” Blake was full of these little jabs, always insinuating that Woods acting career never amounted to anything. Rehearsing a hurtful father son dynamic was one of the only ways these men could show their love. “How’s the old lady?” Blake is referring to Woods’ twenty-two year old girlfriend. “Driving me nuts,” says Woods gazing off, then he leans in towards Robert. “In all the right ways.” He winks at Robert. “Pet a pussy cat on the head too much, and they go bald.” Blake warns. Woods blinks, confused. He had a love-hate relationship with Blakes morsels of wisdom. On one hand it’s why he enjoyed his company so much, on the other hand, Blake had a way of making him question everything, particularly Blake’s sanity. Woods decides to change the subject.

“Some shrimp cocktail I ordered us an hour ago. They might be too dead to eat.” He slides an ornate glass rimmed with withered shrimp in front of Blake. All the ice inside the glass is melted and the shrimp look like they know how pathetic their fate is. Blake knocks all the shrimp off the edge of the glass towards the center and gulps them down like he’s taking a shot of vodka before going bear hunting.

“So, what do you make of this 'Covid 19'” Woods puts Covid 19 in air quotes and his head bobbles with cocky indifference. “It’ll go away.” Blake states between sips of the shrimp water. “Everything goes away, James.” Blake studies the menu. “Not quite Vitello's…” James didn’t want to get into a Dan Tana's versus Vitellos fight tonight. For one, Blake hadn’t been there in decades since he took his wife there before having her killed and more than that Blake was just biased because Dan Tana's never named a pasta after him. Woods lets it slide, he understands the irrelevancy Blake feels to the modern world and the pain of being pushed farther and father back inside Hollywoods skeleton closet.

Yet, although Woods sees Blake as an oracle, his secret virus fears remain. There is a social distancing trend hyped in the media and a possible impending lock down for Los Angeles; a city full of the most insecure egos on the planet. A city that needed to love, use, and discard people so regularly that the notion of a lockdown seemed to go against its code of conduct. Furthermore, Woods cant stand being in his house with his girlfriend for more than three hours, two if there was no oral sex involved, but even worse is the idea of being alone.

His anxiety is spiking as Blake with half glasses on seemed completely engrossed in the menu, ignoring him just like his old man. Woods dips into the pocket of his blazer and dabs his pinkie into a tiny bag of coke, neatly putting it away and rubbing the gums of his front teeth expertly discreet. Blake raises his eye brows. “They’ve got a chicken named after Sidney Beckerman. Did you know him?” Woods shakes his head, and gestures to a waiter to bring more water with an agro snottiness only he could pull off. “He produced Kelly’s Heroes. Good guy, but I never liked him.” Blake starts singing “Que Sera Sera” by Doris Day under his breath, while perusing the menu like it’s a gun catalogue.

Woods patience runs out, he blows a long grey hair out of his eyes and grabs the menu from Blake. He smacks a passing waiter on the back with the menu. “We’re gonna split a plain cheese pizza with a side of spaghetti, and two Roy Rogers. And lots of grenadine for this one right here.” Blake smiles like a school boy brat, pleased.

“So listen, have you been following it at all?” “Following what?” Blake says with a gentle, Warhol deadpan. “The virus horse shit… Robert, they’re saying that we all need to go into isolation. That it’s airborne.” Blake whips the red napkin into his lap. “Get a hold of yourself. Will you? Fear is airborne. Do you know how many motherfuckers, here, still believe in Lincoln?” Blakes shifts were dramatic. Sometimes, he felt like you were talking to a screwy relative of Yoda and other times he had the grit of a dried up cowboy that had made love with Joe Pesci.

“FUCK YOU! NO!” The volume of Tim Allen shouting into his Motorolla razor silenced the place for a good twenty-seconds. “500 million dollars in CASH or you can take your Santa Clause 6 and…make Santa Clause piss!!” The manager started a clap to diffuse any tension. After a smattering of applause, the place went back to normal. “Can I get a big brownie?” Tim Allen screams towards the kitchen like a kid at his grandparents house.

Their Roy Rogers are placed on the table. Woods is sweating as the coke is hitting, and he can feel his phone vibrate with texts from his often pilled out girlfriend. Texts like “Can you remind me where the refrigerator is?”

Blake raises his glass, admiring the red flesh of the maraschino cherry and the slow dance of the grenadine syrup descending towards the bottom, surrendering to him like a wounded lover. “Cheers! May we remember to lock the doors and make the baby swallow the key.” They clink glasses. Blake does a long exaggerated gasp of refreshment, his tongue wagging out of his mouth for a long time.

“Woods, what do you think it was that got in the way of your success?” Triggered and high, Woods replies, coke speed with spit collecting at the corners of his mouth. “Well, I think it was a lot of things. Particularly, that I am a man who values his freedom of speech and I don’t like my rights trampled on by so called “progressives” and you know I thought I was pretty good in Ray Donovan, but I really wasn’t given much of a script, but, ah, fuck.” He wipes his forehead and collects himself. “Blake. I have a serious question.” They stare at each other. Blake has a gravelly distance between his soul and his eyes, but something in Woods reaches him. Their cheese pizza and spaghetti ruptures the eye contact, but Woods can’t give up.

“Say there is a lock down, and this virus is serious. I can’t be alone with the kiddo for that long, you know what I mean? I need a friend. Someone I can pal around with. Someone that gets it. Man to man. Blake, do you think we can live together? Either at the Ranch in Burbank or my place, wherever you feel the most like you can be you.” Woods heart is racing, this is the most vulnerable he’s felt since since the scene in The Virgin Suicides after his daughters die.

Blake stares at him coldly and takes a bite of pizza. “This virus frightens you.” Woods frustratedly digs into the pizza, his heart; a little more vacant, and confused. “Don’t worry.” Blake reaches into his pocket and takes out a vile of clear liquid and places it next to the spaghetti. “I got a cure for that.” Woods examines it. “Is this-“ “A vaccine” Blake says satisfied. “One sip and everything goes away.”

“CHANGE OF PANTS? PLEASE, CAN I GET A CHANGE OF PANTS” Tim Allen roars with a lap full of chocolate brownie. His face and khaki pants are covered in chocolate. But Woods stays transfixed on the vile. “Where the hell did you?…” “We had to make vaccines during breaks on Little Rascals. Bastards always put us to work any way they could. Learned a thing or two though and this one is special… everything goes away. “Have you used it?” Woods asks, his head cocked to the side, watching the liquid float like the clear lip gloss his girlfriend….Kelly? Katy? wears. “Used it plenty of times. Plenty of times.” Says Blake with the resigned faith of a Southern preacher.

“Well, even so, if there’s a lock down, can I bunk with you? Forgive me, you’re single now, right?” “I’m dating, but nothing to write home about," the eighty-six year old answers. Woods looks up from the vile, expectantly. “Listen, kid. My space is sacred. It’s between me and God. I don’t know if you think I can get you a bit part in something or…” “No, I just would like your company that’s all.” Woods assures him. “A man who can’t sleep alone, sleeps while awake. Take the vaccine. You’ll be free.” Woods leans back. Blake always cuts him open and leaves him smelling like the chicken broth that seemed to emanate from Blakes pores. But that’s often the medicine Woods needs. He uncorks the vile, holds it up dramatically,“Salud!”

Allen is standing in his boxers by his booth with his arms crossed waiting for the waiters to bring him pants while Woods finishes the last drop. The blood red walls moist from poor insulation seem to pulse around Woods as Blake stares at him. “Hows it feel?” “Like…uh..like nothing. I mean… like it was water, a placebo?” Blake giggles shaking his head.

Pants-less Tim Allen walks over to their table. “Hey Robert! I haven’t seen you in ages!” They high five. “You know me, keepin’ busy back at home.” Allen turns to Woods, “How ya doing, bud?” and then turn backs to Blake. “You know you’d be perfect for the next Santa Clause movie. You haven’t been in any of them yet, right? “Not yet!” “Well, right on,Cowboy!” Allen and Blake high five again. Woods gets dizzy and starts blinking slowly trying to steady himself. Perhaps taking a vaccine manufactured by Robert Blake was not smart, he didn’t know for sure. He barely knew anything. “Woods, isn’t it time we scroll through our imdb pages?” Blake baits him with their tradition. Woods nods and types his name into his phone. “I love this game! Can I play?” Tim sits down.

Woods can’t focus his eyes very well, but he has typed his name into imdb four times and nothing is coming up. Tim Allen can’t help himself “Ok, so this is a show I was on where I played like a handy man…” His mouth hangs open as he excitedly awaits the men to guess what show. “Garfield.” answers Blake without sarcasm. “It’s not working….” Woods interrupts. “Whats with your friend?” Tim Allen asks annoyed. Blakes eyes don’t leave Woods who is squinting at his phone. “Ok, I’m a dad and a handyman…” “My credits are all gone.” James’s voice seems to morph an octave lower the walls seem to run into the leather booths and booths seem to melt into the floors and drip into the basement where a drunk couple are fucking among cans of tomato sauce.

Woods psyche seeps further into the earths crust, mantle and then core where he watches his entire identity burned in the furnace of mother earths blazing kiln. Alone with himself. To Allen and Blake, his body sitting at the booth looks like a prosthetic suite empty of an actor inside. “The vaccine works.” Blake thinks to himself sipping his pink drink through a straw. Allen whips his head from Woods to Blake and in his classic broad Tim Allen way says “Uhh, am I missing something???”

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tact-and-impulse · 4 years ago

Text

At Arm’s Length Chapter 14

*dojo door slams open* Dad’s home.

Thank you for your patience! Now that this is the last installment correlating to the Kyoto arc, the next chapter will be an interlude before we hop onto the angst train. I know it took a long time for this update, and this past year has been a struggle, given I had to prepare for a major exam (which I passed, so that’s something!) and the current state of the world. The events of this chapter cover Kaoru’s childhood to the Seinan war, including several traumatic events. Content warnings for death of a parent, depictions of war, PTSD, death of a spouse, and depictions of hospitalization. Let me know what you think, and please take care of yourselves.

Chapter 14: Becoming a Father

When he emerged from Commissioner Kawaji’s office, Koshijiro let exhaustion take over. He had stayed awake two hours past midnight to finalize his evacuation plan, and the entire morning had already flown by due to the commissioner grilling him on the details. He had fended off the questions with varying degrees of success, until he was dismissed with a scowl.

He returned to his desk, settled in his chair, and closed his eyes. Just for a minute…

“Officer Kamiya, we received a message requesting backup.” Shinichi nervously interrupted his rest.

He shook off the lethargy, to see the rookie. Occasionally, the young officers were called on for assistance, and Koshijiro had to accompany them as their direct superior. “Please tell me the details on the way there. Let’s head over.”

There was a clash at the fish market, reportedly between two rival gangs. The details of the feud were unknown, but both sides were agitated and aggressive. Shouts and crashes could be heard from a block away. As Koshijiro and the others approached, the noise intensified. The scene was chaotic. Men were exchanging blows and throwing various items at each other. Bloodied faces drifted in and out among the mob, along with the uniforms of officers. The rookies immediately launched themselves into the fray, disappearing in a matter of moments.

A flash of red barreled towards Koshijiro’s right, and he instinctively caught…an octopus. His arm held the creature to his chest, and its tentacles curled around his sleeve and towards his neck. Gingerly, he set it in a nearby bucket of water, and it wriggled in relief. Now that he looked closer, some of the thrown items were raw seafood.

But not all.

A sword swung towards Koshijiro, the rusty edge aiming for his temple, and he ducked. His right hand fell to his bokken, as he analyzed his opponent. A shorter, stockier man with a gap-toothed grin and a death wish, apparently. Koshijiro drew his bokken, moving into a defensive position.

It wasn’t difficult to read his movements, and when the man attempted an overhead swing, Koshijro blocked. The force was intense, and he had to widen his stance. However, that set him up perfectly for the next move. With an inhale, he pushed back, lifting his back foot off the ground to hook around the man’s knee. The man gave a startled exclamation as his feet turned inward, and Koshijiro disengaged. His opponent threatened to fall forward and that left him open for a strike at the sensitive point behind the elbow. The man’s grip spasmed, but even if he could somehow shake off the numbness, Koshijiro was already following through with another blow to the back of the head. Koshijiro watched him go down, and the immediate handcuffing by Officer Abe, who was on standby.

“Whoa, Kamiya-san, that was awesome!”

“Well, I’m glad it worked. I’ve been thinking over this maneuver for some time.” He was rather proud of his success, and confidently, he moved on.

In total, fifty people were arrested, jailed, and scheduled for questioning. He had volunteered for the last shift of interrogation and didn’t return home until past midnight. Koshijiro prepared for bed, and every movement was abnormally loud. Once he had closed his eyes, his ears rang from the eerie silence.

How long had it been since they were gone? June was already coming to a close. Kaoru’s birthday was at the end of the week and he was in Satsuma for her last one. Their usual celebration was a nice dinner, but he felt like this one should be grander, to make amends. He would have to think of something soon…as a testament to how tired he was, he fell asleep mid-thought.

When he woke, he scrambled for the time and realized he was running late. The train would arrive soon, and he had promised to be at the station. He skipped breakfast and broke into a sprint as he drew closer, but he made it to his destination. Tokio rose from a bench, lifting her little son.

“Kamiya-san, thank you for being here. Are you alright?”

He took a moment to catch his breath. “Yes, I’m fine. I see the train’s here?” The locomotive seemed to be giving a long exhale, the turning of the wheels slowing with each cycle.

“Yes, but they must be checking the passengers before they let them out.” She adjusted her hold on Tsutomu, his sleeping face squished against her collar.

They watched the disembarking people and scanned the faces for a boy of the right description. Finally, he stepped out. He was about ten or eleven, and his hair was mussed from sleeping at an odd angle. Noticing their gazes, he cautiously approached, looking up at Tokio.

“Are you Fujita-san?”

“I am and this is my son, Tsutomu. Kamiya-san is my husband’s colleague.”

Koshijiro nodded in greeting. “It’s good to meet you. How was your journey?”

“Long. It wasn’t too bad until the train.” He wrinkled his nose. “I wanted to go on foot like Kenshin did, the train is too noisy.”

“You met Himura-san?”

“Yeah. He really helped me out in my village.” He became quiet, obviously remembering. “He did say, ‘Kamiya-dono will be in Tokyo, so there is no need to worry.’”

Koshijiro coughed to conceal his embarrassment. “I see. Well, I heard he made it to his destination, so there’s no need to worry about him either.”

Tokio knelt to meet Eiji at eye level. “My husband informed me that you lost your parents and brother. I’m so sorry.”

“Kenshin helped me.” Eiji stared at his feet. “He said the dead only want the living to be happy.”

“He wasn’t wrong.” Koshijiro quietly said. “Your family would want that for you.”

They walked out, and Tokio intended to treat Eiji to a well-deserved meal. She extended the invitation to Koshijiro but he had to decline. “Some other time. I’ll stop by now and then, to check in. If there’s anything you need, you can always visit the Kamiya dojo.”

On his way back, he passed a flower seller, hawking baskets teeming with small pink and white deutzia. They greatly resembled cherry blossoms and he remembered they were gone by August. He turned around and paid for one bouquet, mentally mapping out the detour to the cemetery.

Kyoko will surely love these flowers.

***

Everything about Kaoru was utterly charming. Her little yawns, the way she stretched her whole body when she woke, the downy hair capping her head, her plush grip gently enclosing his thumb. She was an energetic baby, working her fingers and flailing her limbs as if testing them out. She was more than Koshijiro and Kyoko could have asked for.

She grew quickly, and Koshijiro was loath to miss a moment. He couldn’t help but feel a little envious of Kyoko and Osue-san, who visited thrice a week to help out. The majority of his day was spent working, so when he returned home at Kaoru’s early bedtime, Kyoko encouraged him to rock their daughter to sleep. She reassured otherwise but he had felt awkward in the early days, too large and clumsy for his tiny girl. As he strolled through the house, Kaoru’s round eyes intently focused on his face before she slowly nodded off.

When she was a few months old, Koshijiro noticed a bright blue ribbon tied around her head. “Hm? What’s this?’ He asked Kyoko.

“I noticed she has a bald spot, so I thought to cover it with the ribbon.” Meanwhile, Kaoru didn’t seem to mind, happily rolling onto her belly and offering Koshijiro a smile.

He sat beside her and one pudgy hand touched his knee before she tried to lift her upper body. Her feet pushed against the tatami but she didn’t budge. As she struggled to move to his lap, her barely visible eyebrows drew together and she made a loud noise of frustration. Amused, he picked her up by the armpits and remarked. “It’s a little early for you to crawl, Kaoru, but it’s good that you’re eager.”

“She’ll be crawling soon.” Kyoko joined them, adjusting the blue ribbon so it was more secure. “And then, she’ll walk and run.”

“Not too fast for us, I hope.”

But for now, Kaoru was still small enough to hold. While their little home was cozy and quiet, it was not as peaceful outside. The disasters of the Ansei era had accumulated in the past two years: cholera raging through Edo, an earthquake in Hida, an assassination near the Sakurada gate. A treaty with the Americans had been signed, resulting in widespread discontent. With the ports open to trade, the markets and routes changed. Inflation drove costs up, as foreigners bought gold. The shogunate was proving to be increasingly unequipped to handle current issues.

Meanwhile, Koshijiro continued to teach kenjutsu. His students were eager to use real blades and threatened to leave if they couldn’t. He did his best to ensure everyone was safe, but he only had one pair of eyes. There were several close calls. After a particularly nasty duel between two students, he sent a doctor for their injuries and ended class early. When everyone had left, he sat on the freshly cleaned dojo floor, rubbing his forehead. The students were eager to fight and yes, they needed to know how to protect themselves, but was he enabling them? What would his predecessors think of him?

“Sorry to interrupt.”

He turned to see Kyoko, holding their baby daughter and beaming at him. “It’s Otou-san, Kaoru. Otou-san.”

Kaoru gave a delighted cry, waving her fist. How could he possibly be despondent?

Kyoko handed her off, and the baby’s soft cheek grazed his. She nuzzled, turning her face against his shoulder, and he held her tighter. Meeting his wife’s tender gaze, he smiled. “Thank you.”

Once Kaoru could toddle about, there was no stopping her, and she took obvious joy in being followed. Her wide smile over her shoulder was a precious thing to behold. When she’d fall, her tears weren’t out of pain but desire for comfort, for she quickly stopped once she was held. Soon enough, even those subsided, and she’d resume walking as if nothing happened.

After one such occurrence, Kyoko began to laugh. “Her face looks just like yours! So determined!”

“If that’s so, then she certainly takes after you too.” But he laughed as well.

It was during those blissful days that his father returned. He had sent a letter in advance, explaining he no longer had work in Kunitake’s area and would be transferring back home. Koshijiro personally suspected they had a falling-out but kept his reply succinct and inviting. Otou-san arrived with the summer heat, and Koshijiro stepped away from the dojo to greet him with a bow.

“Welcome back.”

“Koshijiro, it’s good to be home.” His father smiled. He was noticeably thinner, the lines on his face deeper. “Oh? Is that Kaoru-chan?”

He glanced towards the porch, to see his daughter staring at them, before she unsteadily ran into the house. “Oka! Oka!”

“Calling for her mother?” Otou-san’s tone was both amused and wistful.

“Her first word as well. Please, come in.” As he offered, he took his father’s satchel. It was surprisingly light. Had Otou-san sold his belongings…or was he kicked out?

Kyoko appeared, Kaoru clinging to her leg. “Welcome! Are you hungry at all? We can have lunch early.”

They settled him in, and the tension seemed to leave his frame. He was in his early sixties, Koshijiro thought, but his age had never shown until now. He moved slower, he slept heavier and longer, and he was not as boisterous as before. Worried, Koshijiro sent for one of Kyoko’s doctors. For the most part, Otou-san’s health was fair, but his heart was weak and they would have to keep an eye on him. Plenty of rest and a daily routine would help, and they did their best to make him comfortable. Otou-san dove into his art with full force, and more often than not, he could be found painting in the yard. He happily gave Kaoru any paper and ink she wanted to draw with, and allowed her to drum her fists against his back in a makeshift massage. He also got along well with Kyoko, who effortlessly charmed everyone in her orbit anyway. Most of his father’s paintings were sold, but if Kyoko expressed a liking for one, he would set it aside for safekeeping.

“Aha! I see the pattern now.” Otou-san clapped his hands together, after a brief survey of Kyoko’s choices. “You have a keen eye for the seasons. Spring, summer, autumn, winter.”

“Of course, and you depict them so well, Otou-sama. But do you have any preferences on what you paint?”

“Not particularly, though it’s better if everything I see remains still while I’m working.” He joked. “But that’s hardly ever the case. Such is life.” And to prove his point, Kaoru hurtled past him, running at full speed to escape a harried Osue, who was attempting to wash her face.

A few months later, they celebrated Kaoru turning three. The zori only lasted a few steps before she kicked them off with obvious relief and to Osue-san’s chagrin. Her pudgy hands held a long stick of chitose ame, which she eagerly crammed into her mouth.

“Yes, live a long, happy life, Kaoru.” Kyoko murmured. Her fatigue had been worse as of late, and she rested against Koshijiro’s shoulder.

When Kaoru dozed off too, worn out by the day’s activities, Koshijiro held her in his lap. Glancing about to make sure no one else was looking, he pressed a kiss on both of their cheeks, his wife’s cool one and his daughter’s slightly sticky one.

Now that she was old enough, Koshijiro had crafted a bokken to match Kaoru’s size, and she would follow along with morning stretches. Anything more would be too advanced, and she usually fussed when Kyoko had to pull her away. Eventually, Koshijiro noticed perforations in the rice paper, at about the eye level of a little girl. It then became a matter of catching her in the act. He listened carefully for a tiny pop, and after a moment, opened the door to find her staring up at him.

“Kaoru, did you do this?”

“No!” But she sucked in a breath and turned to run away. Koshijiro easily stepped around her.

“I’m going to ask again. Did you poke holes in the doors?”

She squirmed, her mouth petulantly twisting. “…it’s fun.”

“But it isn’t very nice. It worries me and your mother when we have to fix them. And we don’t like being mad at you. Can you be good and promise you’ll stop?” He extended his pinky finger towards her.

“Hmph.” She pouted but she linked her tiny finger with his and they shook on it.

“That’s a promise.”

Her voice was small and uncertain when she asked. “Do you hate me?”

��No, of course not. I never could, and Okaa-san feels the same way.” As the words left him, he suddenly remembered his own childhood voice, declaring that he would never be anything like his father. Gods, he must have caused Otou-san a great deal of pain and he’d never realized until now.

When he spoke with Kyoko, she insisted that they have a conversation. “You need to talk with him alone. There’s still time to make things right between you. As long as you’re alive, you can have another chance.”

He decided to do so, one morning. Otou-san was in his usual spot in the yard, trying to capture the autumn scenery with his paints. He shuffled towards the porch, spared a glance at Kyoko. She narrowed her eyes at his stalling, and urged him to keep moving with quick waves of her hand. Suppressing a sigh, he moved to stand by his father.

“That looks lovely.” He lamely nodded at the painting. What was he doing?

His father laughed. “Thank you. I know you’re not as passionate as I am about this, but I appreciate it. Is something on your mind?”

“I spoke to Kaoru about the holes in the door, and she reminded me of the past.” He slowly said. “I remember some of the unkind words I dealt to you when I was a child, and I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to forgive. As you said, you were a child and our situation was…unexpectedly complicated. But I never blamed you or your mother.” He set his brush down, resting it on a small ceramic dish with murky water. “I think if Miyo had been with us, like when you were younger, it might be easier to talk with each other. Maybe, she’d still be with us.”

The wind swept through, and a lull fell over them. Koshijiro cleared his throat, swallowing the sudden lump there. “Kyoko says people live on in the stories we tell.”

“She’s right.” He paused. “I never told you how I met your mother.”

“No, I don’t believe so.”

“Well, it wasn’t romantic. I fell asleep by the river, while sketching. I only meant to have a nap, but when I woke up, it was morning and Miyo was standing over me. Then, I kept seeing her all the time, while I was in town. Our paths crossed frequently after that. I was happy whenever I saw her, and disappointed when I didn’t. When I found that she was looking for work, I hired her. And after that, I only fell deeper. I was sure…that we could live happily together. But Otsuna and Kunitake were jealous. I knew they were, but I raised them like my own after my cousin and wife died. I did my best, trying not to choose. Miyo never told me she was pregnant with you, and when I met you, you were almost a year old. But I couldn’t let you either of you go again. You probably don’t remember much, but despite the circumstances at the time, the famine and uncertainty, those were some of the happiest days of my life.”

Something gave in his chest at his father’s words and sober expression. Otou-san was not perfect by any means, far from it, and yet…he was only human in the end. “That time is vague in my memories but I was happy too.”

“I am sorry though. I never meant for you to be hurt by your siblings, and I did speak to them multiple times. Their harassment is a failure on my part. I don’t know where I went wrong, but please believe that I never encouraged their behavior.”

“I believe you and that it’s not entirely your fault.” He assured. “There comes a point when immaturity is no longer an excuse and I doubt they ever found it. Years ago, I would have thought it difficult to uproot the resentment I have. But I can now. I do forgive you and I think I understand you a little better now. Even more so because I have Kyoko and Kaoru.”

Otou-san looked as if he was about to cry, and he was at a loss for what to do. Almost as if on cue, the door opened to signal someone was on the porch. Kaoru darted towards them, with a wide smile. “Jii-jii!” She twirled in place, her little ponytail flying. “This new ribbon is pretty, right?”

His father nodded, voice light. “Of course! It’s the same color as a rose. And you’re pretty from head to toe. And what does your Otou-san think?”

They both turned to him, and Koshijiro cleared his throat. “Yes, Kaoru, it’s very nice. Did Okaa-san buy it for you?”

“Uh-huh. We match now! Tou-san, come see.” She grabbed his hand, pulling him back towards the house amidst his father’s laughter. Kyoko had tied her own rose-colored ribbon in her bun, and she lifted her head from her sewing with a smile when they rejoined her at the table.

“Thank you.” He murmured.

“You’re welcome. How do you feel?”

“Better.”

“Then, that’s good.” Their private conversation was interrupted by Kaoru, wondering where one of her books was.

In the evenings, Kyoko read aloud to Kaoru, who had claimed a spot to nestle between them in their futon. Koshijiro was embarrassed whenever he fell asleep to his wife’s voice, but those were rare, since Kaoru would poke his side and ask if he wanted to read next. She would try to turn the pages for him, intent on helping move their nightly story forward. She already knew a few kanji, including her name, and Koshijiro was very proud.

There was one issue that arose. One of the new books Kaoru liked was about a family, which had multiple children. The youngest was a newborn girl, and Kaoru seemed fascinated, her fingers lingering on the baby’s descriptions. Once Kyoko ended the tale, the inevitable question came.

“Kaa-san?”

“Yes?”

“Where do babies come from?”

“Hmm.” Kyoko pretended to ponder over the matter. “Well, they appear when an Okaa-san and an Otou-san wish very hard.”

“Oh. So I will wish.”

“Wish for what, Kaoru?”

“A little sister!”

“That’s such a nice wish.” Kyoko mildly replied. “Now, let’s go to sleep.”

Koshijiro fervently hoped that would be the end, but as the seasons changed, Kaoru was still loudly expressing her desire for a younger sister. It became a daily inquiry, and at last, Koshijiro decided to gently break the news to her, before going to bed.

“Perhaps, you should think of a new wish. A little sister probably isn’t on its way.”

“Why not?” She demanded.

“W-well…” He stammered, thrown off guard. “It takes two people to make that kind of a request?” Kyoko immediately clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes shut and shoulders trembling with concealed laughter. “Two adults, like me and your mother.”

“Tou-san, then wish with Kaa-san.”

What had he done to deserve this conversation? “But when a baby comes, you can’t exchange it, even if it’s a boy.”

“A little brother would be okay too, like Hitomi-chan’s.” Kaoru conceded, referring to one of her older playmates.

Thankfully, Kyoko took over, still smiling from the aftershocks. “Kaoru, we waited a very long time for you. We wished and prayed and nearly gave up. I don’t know if we can be that lucky a second time. But if you’re feeling lonely, let’s invite Hitomi-chan and your other friends over more often. And there are other children who live nearby too. Maybe, there will be someone who would like a big sister. What do you think?”

“…alright.” Over her head, Kyoko and Koshijiro exchanged relieved glances.

***

Emperor Meiji ascended to the throne, and a power struggle with the shogunate seemed imminent. Nothing in the news was particularly uplifting, a prelude to the certain turmoil.

One wintry morning, he passed by Otou-san’s room and stopped. The door was wide open, though without signs of a struggle. In the front, his father’s shoes were missing, and a quick scan confirmed that the yard was empty. A sense of foreboding overcame him. He walked past the gate, looking down the road to find a set of shallow footprints. They led to a large tree, shielding any snow from covering Otou-san’s sitting form. As he approached, the foreboding grew stronger, and it was only confirmed when he gently placed his palm upon his father’s shoulder. There was no heat at all. Otou-san’s face was perfectly tranquil, his final moments of acceptance, and Koshijiro bowed his head.

“Thank you, and goodbye. I’ll take you to Okaa-san now.”

The funeral was surprisingly crowded, with many people offering to pay their respects. It was clear that Otou-san had been respected and loved, by not only his colleagues but also the neighborhood and his fellow artists. Noticeably, there were two figures who never showed, but Koshijiro did not mind. It was best that his wife and daughter wouldn’t meet his siblings. Preferably never at all. Otou-san’s ashes were laid to rest beside the simple grave of the woman he loved, and Koshijiro blinked back sudden tears at the sight of his parents, reunited in death.

Kyoko’s familiar hand slipped into his. “It’s alright. You can cry, if you need to.” She gently said.

“Forgive me, Kyoko. I don’t know why-” He broke off, his voice shaky. He didn’t know why his composure was crumbling at this moment, when he had handled the funeral arrangements so steadily.

“Shh. I’m here, and so is Kaoru. We’re here.” Her gaze shone with her own tears, and Kaoru clung to Koshijiro’s other side, brows drawn together. They remained in a close huddle, all the way home. The house was quieter, and sometimes, there’d be an extra bowl set out by accident, but like years ago, the grief was easier to bear with time.

That spring, he was on midnight patrol, lantern in hand. A distant clamor rerouted him, and he kept one hand on the hilt of his katana as he hurried towards the shouts. A couple of shadows were already fleeing, leaving four bodies. One emitted a weak rattling cough. He drew closer and the lantern’s glow illuminated the man’s bloody face. “Hayashi?!” He checked for a pulse on his friend’s slick neck. Rapid, but present. He stabilized Hayashi, just as his colleagues rushed over.

The story was that it had been a group of ruffians, looking for anyone to rob in this economic crisis. Hayashi did survive, though at the cost of a maimed right leg. He was despondent; such an injury meant an end to kenjutsu and his service to his lord. “I’ll be thrown away, who wants a cripple for protection?”

“Don’t say that,” Koshijiro tried to persuade him. “Focus on getting better first, before returning to work.”

“As if. Just leave me to die and go back to your own dojo.” Hayashi snarled. That only served to steel Koshijiro. He wrote to Maekawa and Kikuhara, requesting their assistance, and continued to visit with food and water.

Maekawa was there within the week, and spoke nothing of kenjutsu, just boisterously singing as he cleaned Hayashi’s row house. Kikuhara was unable to do anything in person, but he sent packages of books, paintings, and other things to pass the time with. At first, Hayashi shouted at them, to the point where he wore himself out. They took meals at his bedside if he wouldn’t move and changed his dressings, and although Maekawa was skeptical that they were helping at all, Koshijiro insisted they were. Hayashi’s strength was slow to build, given his initial resistance, but he left his bed in order for them to stop nagging, as he put it, and scowled as he ate. He no longer raised his voice or spoke of dying. Despite his perpetual bitter mood, it was progress.

Koshijiro believed they were going to finally get him out of the house, only to find that the door chained in place. Hayashi had left a folded note in one of the edges. Thank you for staying with me, but I need to find my own way in life again.

A search resulted in nothing. Maekawa expressed his characteristic confidence that Hayashi would be fine, wherever he ended up, and Koshijiro reluctantly accepted that he had to trust his friend would continue to live on.

His dojo was faring well; there were many who were eager to learn how to fight or have their sons learn. At seven, Kaoru relished helping out, and he tended to ask for her to demonstrate, especially for the newcomers. She was as old as he was, when he first started learning, and with her head start, she was very good at kenjutsu and knew it. She loved being in the dojo, and although Koshijiro was proud of her enthusiasm, she did fight with some of the boys who were prejudiced towards a female classmate and mistakenly believed she was weaker. More than once, he had to break up a tussle. Punishment was dealt equally too, he didn’t want to favor his daughter and he could handle her grumpiness afterward. If she wanted to spar those boys in a designated match, however, he never objected.

Kyoko was much more apprehensive. “I’m not saying she can’t be in the dojo. I don’t want to confine her; I want her to enjoy life.” She was very firm about that sentiment, given her upbringing. “But I’m worried she’ll be hurt. It’s different for women. Men are allowed to bear scars with pride, whereas we’re expected to hide them.”

“I understand, but she’s growing up and she knows how to pick herself up when she falls. Kaoru’s resilient, like you.”

“That’s kind of you to say, dear.” It was an evasive reply. She still wasn’t mollified and fretted over Kaoru’s bruises and scrapes. Kaoru complained about the thick ointments, that most of her injuries were accidents and in the increasingly rarer fights, the dumb boys kind of deserved it. Koshijiro silently agreed with the latter point, as he bandaged his daughter up.

The majority of his students were now outside the samurai class, and somehow, word must have spread because he had a spectator who lingered after one class.

“Are you interested in joining?” Koshijiro inquired.

“It would be an honor but no. I am here as a representative of Omura.” The man smiled. “Have you heard of him?”

“Omura Masujiro? The Choshu strategist?”

“Yes, I’m glad you recognized him. But are you are aware of the cause he fights for?”

“It seems you’ll tell me regardless.”

There was the usual talk about sonno joi, or the expulsion of foreigners. But one thing caught Koshijiro’s attention. “The samurai class has abused their power and wealth for far too long. What we want is to remind them that at their core, they are no better than anyone else. To level the field, so to speak, and put an end to the four class system. Think about it, and we’ll be in town.” He provided the name of an inn they frequented and departed.

The conversation kept surfacing in Koshijiro’s thoughts. He did not believe that foreign influence was totally beneficial. The consequences of famine, economic turmoil, and disease were too severe to be ignored. Hayashi was one of many who had suffered from the growing unrest among the people. But it was too late to close the borders again. The military was already incorporating Western technology, and Choshu was offering military training to commoners. Omura’s follower spoke of humbling the samurai. Abolishing the class structure…he could accept that idea. Takaoka was supporting Satsuma and Choshu, the leaders of the rebellion. They were gathering anyone who was willing to go to Kyoto and assist in the fight to end the shogunate. A number of samurai from Oyumi were going, including Koshijiro’s direct superior, but before he could leave, he had to speak to Kyoko and Kaoru.

Kyoko responded first. “Of course, I want you to stay and be safe. If you leave, you might never return. But…” She stared at her own hands, wrapped around her teacup. A few wisps of hair escaped from behind her ear, and he reached over to tuck them back. “You feel very strongly about this.” With an inhale, she firmly straightened and met his gaze. “Promise us you’ll survive.”

“I promise. Will you and Kaoru be alright?”

Their daughter hadn’t said anything yet, her eyes wide as she looked at them. Kyoko reached for her hands, drawing her closer.

“Kaoru and I will be fine. I’m certain we won’t be the only women left behind either. We’ll manage and welcome you home when you return.”

“We’ll be here, Otou-san, don’t worry about us.” Kaoru’s voice was subdued, but she attempted a smile.

“Thank you. I’ll be home again before you know.”

He had been very naïve.

***

His first experience with war could never be forgotten. From the march on foot to the first battle cry in earshot, it all stayed with him. Most of the early days blurred together, leaving the impression of sore feet and shoulders. But when they reached Kyoto, the adrenaline surged within him and his fingers shook as he loaded his gun.

One moment, it was quiet. The next, commands were shouted down the line, and then, there was cracking gunfire and smoke. The soldier next to him was struck by a bullet. The man in front was cut down, blood seeping through his uniform. Behind him, an enemy cannonball landed on people he couldn’t name but their screams of agony echoed forever.

It was madness. Every day was a fresh ordeal.

The first time he killed a man, it was with his sword. It had been a long day, and his opponent was too slow for one moment. That was all it took, Koshijiro’s blade sinking deeper than either of them expected. The man’s features slackened, and Koshijiro knew he was already gone. The body twitched several times, before finally falling as the sword was removed. Koshijiro’s feet were planted to the ground, which was gradually darkening in color.

I’m sorry.

The words died on his tongue, as a bullet flew past, the sound deafening and reminding him that to stay still in battle meant death. He couldn’t linger, he had to keep moving. He had promised Kyoko and Kaoru he would come home to them, and that became his anchor on the battlefield. Even if doing so meant that he had to feel hollow for all of the rest.

***

“Otou-san? Otou-san?”

Koshijiro jolted. Kaoru was standing before him. When had she approached? He hadn’t noticed.

She beamed at him. “We’re having lunch now.” The sunlit yard stretched behind her, and he gripped the edges of the porch.

He had been home for a week, yet nothing felt real. He should be happy, he was alive and not in bad shape. Many men had not returned at all. But he felt like part of him had been left behind on the battlefield, drifting aimlessly and pulling the rest of him with it until a loud noise startled him and then he was on edge. It wore him out; he was constantly tired, despite waking well after sunrise. And there were the nightmares. He didn’t feel right.

Things had changed in Chiba too. Osue had succumbed to pneumonia in his absence, and he had already paid numb respects to the faithful old woman. Kyoko was understandably melancholy, not helped at all by how her illness had taken a turn. She was on bedrest, and her medicines had increased in quantity. Neither of them were sure how well they were working.

“We met a woman who teaches kenjutsu.”

“You did?”

“Her name is Chiba-san, as in the Chiba clan. Kaoru and I were buying groceries, and she was in her uniform. She was kind enough to invite us to her afternoon lesson. Kaoru really enjoyed it, so I feel more at ease.”

“Then, you can attend her lessons more often. It would be good for Kaoru.” He hadn’t been teaching, he wasn’t ready. Kyoko understood, but Kaoru clearly missed it. Even though she liked Chiba-san’s lessons, he overheard the two of them talking, while they thought he was having a nap.

“Is Otou-san going to be okay?”

“I don’t know yet, Kaoru.”

“He doesn’t talk about the war. It must have been scary.”

“It would be better not to ask. There are some things your father can’t share with us, that he wants to shield us from.” Kyoko evenly said. “When it’s time, he’ll share.”

“And what if he never does?”

“Then, that’s alright. We’ll be here to support him, just like always. He’s still your Otou-san, no matter what.”

“Oh. I get it now.”

His sight flooded and he doubled over. Kyoko and her infinite patience! And his innocent daughter, whose feelings were hurt. Here he was, being pathetic. He didn’t step out to acknowledge them, but he resolved in his heart that he would try to return to normal.

He wrote a routine for himself, including meditation and what to think of to pull himself back to reality. He was out of bed before his wife and daughter, to clean the dojo and equipment, before reintroducing kenjutsu back into his life. But he couldn’t use a real blade anymore. Never again, not even to keep students. He couldn’t let go of the sword, but he could forge a new relationship with it, to protect who was important to him. He began drafting new kata, on defending and disarming. The work anchored him even further, kept him from falling too deeply into listlessness.

Kyoko and Kaoru were encouraging, every step of the way. His wife woke him from the worst nightmares, and she intuitively knew when to give him space and when to be near. She always made her presence known, never startling him. When he returned to work, his satchel hid little notes in her handwriting, heartfelt reminders that pushed back against his dark thoughts. Kaoru was determined to make him smile once a day. Her good cheer was infectious, as she took over in leading their daily stretches. Upon finding her mother’s notes, she added her own, complete with the signature she was practicing. One of her first sewing projects was a handkerchief for him, a fine dark green with three leaves, and she presented it with such pride, his weariness lifted.

It wasn’t always easy. Some days, he faltered, folded in on himself. It wasn’t until months later that he could think back and realize how low he had been. He wasn’t certain if he’d ever feel like that again, but he learned to recognize the triggers and cope.

Now that the Emperor had moved to the freshly renamed Tokyo and there was peace at last, properties were up for grabs. The more Koshijiro heard, the more he leaned into the possibility. There was excellent medical care in the capital, and plenty of work to be had. The influx of people also meant more potential students. It was a time for change, and when would another opportunity like this occur again?

The paperwork was quickly finalized and they packed their belongings. By year’s end, they were settled into their new home in Tokyo. Koshijiro had commissioned renovations and additions, and though the house was larger than needed for a family of three, he and Kyoko discussed accepting boarders to pay off the debt. But the bathhouse was worth it, to the delight of Kyoko and Kaoru, and he liked his dojo very much. The wood smelled fresh and fragrant, and he pivoted in the open space. The light poured in, washing over his face. This was his school, the one he had yearned for all these years. A school of swordsmanship that would use the blade to protect, never to kill. A school that would represent a vow for the present and a wish for the future.

Kamiya Kasshin. The living heart.

***

At first, he thought the Kamiya plot had moved, because there were only supposed to be three graves, for his parents and Kyoko. So the fourth had puzzled him for a moment, before he realized whose it was. Oh. Well, this was very strange, to see his own grave.

“Kenkaku Koshimichi Koki…?” He muttered. The Buddhist name he had been granted for the afterlife felt like it belonged to a different person entirely.

Fortunately, there weren’t many weeds. The ones that were present gave his right shoulder enough work. As he was finishing up, a kind couple offered to scrub down the headstones and light the incense. They made small talk, that they were newlyweds and he had married into her family. They refused any monetary payment, and with clasped hands, they were soon on their way. Alone, Koshijiro knelt.

“I’m a little early, but I thought these flowers would be nice. And sorry, that Kaoru isn’t here with me.” It would be nearly eighteen years ago, that she was born. “I’d rather celebrate her birthday when she’s home. We’ve missed out on that, the past two times.”

The wind ruffled his hair. It was getting longer, he needed a trim.

“I’ve been working on adjusting Kamiya Kasshin, for a one-handed variant. Not just for me, but for Yutaro and those in similar situations. It would also be good for anyone who’s been injured.” For that matter, injured people weren’t far from his mind. “Even though I’d like to be there, fighting with them.” He stood, brushed off his sore knees, and gave a last smile. “I’ll be back for Obon, with Kaoru and everyone else.”

***

After multiple appointments, Kyoko finally spoke the truth aloud. “I’m not going to live much longer, am I?”

Dr. Gensai slowly nodded. “Yes. I wish I could do something, anything.”

“You’ve done so much already, ever since we moved here last year.”

Kaoru worked her way under Kyoko’s arm, half-crawling into her lap. “Okaa-san.”

Koshijiro was barely listening, the world closing upon the clinic’s room. Nothing seemed real at that moment.

As the days passed, the neighborhood pitched in. His police colleagues covered extra shifts in his place, and their wives kept Kyoko company while he was working. He received plenty of groceries with a hand wave in regards to payment, which he never got used to. There was always something on the table for dinner. An acquaintance by some degrees, the apprentice of an artisan who had admired the work of Kamiya Keiichiro, offered to paint Kyoko’s picture, free of charge. The ink portrait was very somber, unlike his wife, but Kyoko appreciated the gesture. To Dr. Gensai and the rest of their visitors, she seemed accepting and strong.

However, when it was just the two of them, she was afraid of dying.

“I don’t want to go. I need to live, just a while longer, until Kaoru is a little older.” She sobbed, and it took all of Koshijiro’s willpower not to break down. He held her and didn’t speak, his throat burning.

Kaoru was on her best behavior, ensuring her mother was warm and had food. She braided both of their hair at night and chose Kyoko’s clothes in the morning. She read aloud, stumbling on a few unfamiliar words and making up for the little mistakes with her own interest in the novels.

Sometimes, his wife was too fatigued by the pain in her abdomen. Her hand shook when she drew her fingers through Kaoru’s ponytail. It was too easy for her to be out of breath. But she was focused on one task in particular, and he found her carefully writing when she was able.

“It’s our family book.” She showed him the familiar cover of the volume that told the stories of their pasts. She had been updating it over the years. “The next few pages are for Kaoru, for when she’s a young woman. I’ve already written your pages, for when you feel troubled.”

“Kyoko…”

“I only want you to be well. And I’m sorry.” She pressed the heel of her palm to her eyes and gave a short laugh. “Oh no, not again.”

“No, Kyoko, don’t apologize.” He drew her trembling form into his arms and breathed in the scent of her hair. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You’ve fought a harder battle than many ever will, and even now, you handle it with grace in front of Kaoru.”

“I don’t want her to worry about me, but I think she knows anyway. She’s a good girl, our daughter. She’ll be a lovely young lady someday.” Her tone was bittersweet with longing. “My kimonos have been set aside for her?”

“Yes, for when the time is right.”

“Mm. Hopefully, they won’t be too out of fashion.”

“They’ll suit Kaoru well. I saw the blue one with the cranes, the one you wore when we met.”

“That was almost twenty years ago, right? I still remember that day, I knew you were kind and honorable. I think I loved you from the moment I told you my name. I never expected to have this, any of this. But I’ve seen the cherry blossoms each year with you, my husband who I’m very proud of. Every day with you has been wonderful.”

“I haven’t been at my best every day. Most days, perhaps even half.”

She shook her head, mouth curving upwards. “No, really. Every day.” She brought her hand to the side of his face, and he leaned in to kiss her.

By autumn, she was in the hospital again. She was deteriorating fast, yet she held onto Koshijiro’s hand as the doctors came in and out. She was too weak to leave her bed, and he held back her hair when her nausea was too powerful to keep at bay. The worst was when she didn’t seem to recognize him or Kaoru, rapidly blinking at them when they greeted her. Her confusion was frightening, and he always ushered Kaoru out, saying that Okaa-san needed her rest. But she was sharp enough to notice.

“It’s so hard to see her like this. I wish I could do something!” She exclaimed, kicking a stray pebble in the road.

“I feel the same. I’d rather it be me in her place.”

“Otou-san, you shouldn’t be in the hospital either.” Kaoru corrected, slumping. “All of us should be home.”

He couldn’t argue, and he took her hand as they departed.

The weather chilled, the leaves bright with color. Flowers were in rare abundance, but they managed to procure an armful of pink dianthus. Kaoru strode into the hospital room, petals falling in her wake.

“Okaa-san, we’re here to visit!”

“Hello.” Her voice was barely audible but her expression was warm.

Koshijiro was relieved she was lucid. “I hope you haven’t been waiting too long.”

“No, I just woke up. What time is it?”

He told her, as Kaoru arranged the bouquet by the window.

“Oh, they’re beautiful. Thank you.” Tears welled up in her gaze. “You have such a good heart, Kaoru.” She swallowed hard, intent on making her words count. “You’ve been so helpful, so sweet and strong. I’ve told you as much as I can, but if it isn’t enough, know that you’re never alone. Listen to Otou-san, and remember that he wants what’s best for you. There’s always the book, if you need it.”

“I know where the book is. I just want you.” Kaoru quietly replied.

Kyoko was too overcome to speak, cupping Kaoru’s face. Koshijiro sat at her other side, wrapping his arm around her. They huddled close, their conversation meandering; what mattered most was that they were in the present together, for as long as it could last. Eventually, Kyoko’s breathing deepened and her eyes struggled to stay open.

“We’ll be back later.” Koshijiro promised, hesitantly extricating himself.

“See you soon, Okaa-san. Love you.” Kaoru kissed her cheek, and Kyoko gave a fragile smile.

“I love you too. I love you both so much.” Those were her last words, before she fell asleep.

By the following evening, she still hadn’t woken. A number of white-clad hospital staff filled her room, exchanging words that swept over his understanding until someone explained. Kyoko was comatose. He was going to send Kaoru home, but she stamped her foot and insisted on staying. One of the doctors offered a spare office for her to sleep in, while Koshijiro remained by Kyoko’s side. It would not be long before the end, he was warned but he would not budge. He wouldn’t let her go while she was alone.

Her weak pulse fluttered under his thumb, stopping for long seconds before picking up again. His dear, persistent Kyoko. He cupped her cheek and bent his head close, uncertain if she could hear him, but he whispered into her ear. “It’s alright, Kyoko. We don’t want you to be in pain. It’s alright.”

It was ultimately a blessing that Kyoko did not linger. Before midnight, she slipped away. Koshijiro pressed his lips to hers, in one last kiss. Then, he went to Kaoru.

She stirred awake when he touched her shoulder. “Otou-san?” Her eyes were wide with apprehension.

“She’s gone.”

“Can I see her?”

He could only nod, and he led her into the room. Kaoru climbed onto the hospital bed, and stifled her sobs into Kyoko’s neck. He held her cold hand, engraving the memory of her skin into his mind. They remained there until the very last minute.

***

The funeral was accompanied by a light rain. His arms were burdened with the container of Kyoko’s ashes, and his shoulders hunched unconsciously to protect what was left of his wife from the weather. Kaoru walked beside him, quiet and matching one of his paces with two of her own. The stoic procession marched to the cemetery, and Kyoko was buried in heavy silence.

Time passed by sluggishly. The house was too quiet, and he resorted to kenjutsu, to an escape. If he kept his body occupied and moving, he would not have to think about how empty he felt.

“Otou-san?”

The timid question stopped him mid-step, and he turned to see his daughter standing in the doorway.

“Um. I tried to make lunch. Do you want to eat yet? Because you didn’t have breakfast…”

His gut reaction was to decline, he had probably lost his appetite forever. But he stared at his daughter’s round eyes, the quiver in her chin as she waited for his answer.

No. I can’t give up, I’m all Kaoru has now, and so, I must keep up my strength.

“Alright. Let’s have lunch.”

The onigiri were misshapen, lopsided triangles. There was probably a little too much salt, but to his fatigued body, the flavor wasn’t bad. The rice was definitely undercooked though, and the only sound in the room was the crunch of grains between teeth.

Then, there was a sniffle. Koshijiro lifted his head, to see Kaoru frowning and wiping away tears, even as she chewed. “Sorry.” She warbled. “It doesn’t taste good.”

“Kaoru…” He reached over the table, to awkwardly pat her head. “If anyone should apologize, it’s me. I’m your father, it’s my duty to provide for you. But I’ve been neglecting you. I’m so sorry.”

“Mm.” She squeezed her eyes shut, rubbing her sleeve across her face.

“Don’t worry about cooking anymore. I’ll hire a new housekeeper to take care of that. I’ll also open the rooms to boarders so we can pay off the rest of the debt. Soon, I’ll continue teaching.”

“Can I be a student again?”

“Yes. The position of head student will always be yours, until you can teach with me.”

“And then?”

“And then, you’ll be assistant instructor. After that, head instructor. The dojo will be yours, and I’ll write it down so no one can take that away from you.”

Kaoru nodded. “Otou-san?”

“Hm?”

“Can I talk about Okaa-san?”

“Your mother loved stories. I think she’d like nothing more than for you to tell stories about her.”

She slowly nodded. “Will you?”

“Perhaps not right away. But even if I don’t speak, she’s always here.” He placed his hand over his heart. “And here.” He pointed to the same spot on his daughter, and she laid her fingers upon it in understanding.

“Okay. I can talk about her for both of us.”

He didn’t respond, but he patted her head again and they continued on.

It was not easy, raising a daughter alone. As much as Kaoru looked like his dear wife, she had inherited her temper from him. They did argue, over trivial matters in hindsight, but such discussions usually ended in Kaoru slamming the door to her room and for him to thumb through his designated pages in Kyoko’s book, rereading her overarching message of love and patience. He would not repeat the mistakes of his youth, and he would knock on her door, requesting that they talk. Thankfully, her anger usually blew over quickly and he made it a point to apologize to each other.

Kamiya Kasshin was ultimately a family project. Kaoru was the first student to try the new techniques, and from observing her as well, Koshijiro made necessary changes and adjustments. His daughter was a natural at kenjutsu, and she freely challenged him.

“Wouldn’t another step work for this kata? I feel like I need to get my balance back from the last turn.”

“That’s fine, but you might run into trouble if you’re in a tight space.”

“Well, that just means it’s more important to rebalance.”

“It seems the turn’s causing the issue. What if we move it up, earlier in the sequence?”

“Yeah, that could work too!”

He did hire a housekeeper, but the middle-aged woman was far stricter than her initial interview conveyed. She heavily disapproved of Kaoru’s love for swordsmanship, insisting that she rise before dawn and sleep late, to complete extra household tasks. But Kaoru was unhappier every day, and it came to a head when the housekeeper mentioned the dreaded word of “marriage”. Kaoru was late for practice and he was searching for her, overhearing the raised voices in the kitchen.

“Why would I care about some husband I haven’t even met yet?” Kaoru exploded. “I’m me and I should be loved for who I am, not because I’m ladylike enough!”

“Your education should have started when you were much younger. Now, I fear it’s too late to salvage.” She glanced over at Koshijiro, striding towards them. “Ah, here’s your father.” If she was expecting him to defend her viewpoint, he was glad to disappoint her.

“I need her in the dojo. Don’t delay her and for that matter, we will not speak of marrying her off. Kaoru is only ten.” He firmly stated. “End of discussion.”

“You spoil her far too much. If she were my daughter, she’d be a proper girl and run the house on her own. I’m not sure what your wife did-”

“And that is where you stop, because she’s not your child, she’s mine.” He coldly dismissed her. “Pack your things and I’ll give you your pay for the week. We have no more need of your services.”

She huffed and gave them nasty looks but didn’t say another word. Before noon, the gate soundly shut behind her.

“Well…that probably went as well as it could.” He said at last.

Kaoru laughed. “I thought it was great. Thank you, Otou-san.” She hugged him and he patted her head. Then, she pouted. “Does this mean we need to find someone new?”

“We can wait a while.” Soon after, they met Sekihara Tae, whose friendship was much appreciated.

When Kaoru was twelve, they had the pleasant surprise of a visitor. Kikuhara was traveling through, and he was interested in the school Koshijiro had described in a New Year’s card. He joined the class as an observer, then to help with basic forms. He began to follow along with the students, and he caught on quickly. After a month, he held his own in sparring against Koshijiro. Kaoru called the close match in Koshijiro’s favor, but they were happy with the outcome.

Kikuhara’s objective seemed to be complete too. He opened a pocket watch and examined the inside. “It’s time for me to go. I have someone to return to now.” With a smile, he turned the watch around to show Koshijiro a photograph of a young girl, no older than five. “My daughter, Midori.”

“A daughter? You…married?”

“No.” Kikuhara paused. “I haven’t told anyone else this, but she’s the illegitimate child of my lord. I was tasked to care for her, but the moment she was placed in my arms, I knew she was as good as my own. She’s very frail though, and she isn’t interested in kenjutsu, unlike your Kaoru. But she’s kindhearted, like her real father.”

“With no offense to your lord, you are her father now and I’m sure she misses you.” Koshijiro pointed out without malice. “If you need any advice on raising her, please let me know.”

“I’ll remember, senpai.” He joked. “I will be sure to bother you about teaching as well. I like some of the kata from Kamiya Kasshin, and its message is honorable. I’m interested in sharing it in Echigo, alongside my own family’s tradition. Would you mind?”

“Not at all.”

“And I’ll call it…Kasshin Shintoryu Kikuhara?”

“Please don’t, you can just keep your family’s name for the school.” He was embarrassed.

“No, it’s a good name, and I’ll be happy to teach under its sign.” At the end of his stay, they saw him off with waves and promises of a future reunion, when Midori was older.

Years passed. He filled a book with the knowledge of Kamiya Kasshin, leaving it in the altar alongside Kyoko’s volume. Kaoru was promoted to assistant instructor after demonstrating mastery in the last kata, and she taught the youngest students while he focused on the older ones. They made a good team. The dojo was raucous with clashing bokken and conversation, and for some time, life was uneventful.

***

That changed when Kumamoto Castle was taken by the Satsuma army. Before the week’s end, the draft letter arrived, summoning Koshijiro to the warfront once more. He was standing frozen in the front yard and numbly rereading the notice, thinking of how he could hide it before he had a proper chance to speak to Kaoru, when she called out.

“Otou-san, what’s taking you so long?” Too late, her gaze landed on the official stamp on the envelope, and she immediately blanched. “Otou-san?”

“I’m sorry, Kaoru.”

“Why are you apologizing?!” She gave a nervous laugh. “It’s not like you chose to go.”

“In a way, I did when I joined the police.”

“Otou-san, don’t say that. I know you don’t really think so.” She touched his shoulder. “Are you going to be alright?”

“I’m more worried about you. You’ll be alone.”

“No, I won’t. I have the students, and Tae’s in town. And I can always bring on more boarders.” At his distasteful expression, she scowled. “Don’t say anything about protecting me, because I can defend myself. You know I can!”

“I’m only telling you to be cautious.”

“I am.” She grumbled.

He excused himself, to find two items. One was his tanto, and the other was his father’s. He handed the sheathed blades to her. “Keep one under your pillow, and the other in the secret compartment in the bathhouse.”

“Otou-san.”

“Remember to lock your room every night.”

“Otou-san, I’ll remember. But how are you coping? You’re being called back to war, you’ll have to…” Kill people again. The unspoken words hung in the air.

“I don’t look forward to it, but I will do my best to avoid a worst case scenario. With Kamiya Kasshin, I can disarm as many as I can.”

At that, she lit up. “So, we should train as much as possible. And I want to master the succession techniques before you go!”

That was a good idea. After lessons, they practice sparred, and Koshijiro pinpointed where she needed to improve. Not that there was much, but he wanted to teach her everything he could before leaving. The last afternoon eventually came; Kaoru focused solely on Hadome and Hawatari. She was on the verge of breaking through, and she recognized as much.

“I almost had it! And I knew where I went wrong too! One more time, Otou-san?”

“No, you’re tired. It’s already been over two hours, and I can tell you’re too exhausted to proceed any further today. We should stop here.��

She groaned, slumping. “But I wanted to master them before you left, so you can see.”

“Mastering these techniques shouldn’t be rushed, especially for my sake. You are close. So, not yet, but you’re getting better every time.” He wouldn’t be here to watch her progress though, after this day.

She must have thought so too, for she set her bokken aside and fiercely hugged him. He squeezed her back, hoping it could convey all of what he couldn’t say aloud.

The morning of departure was somber. Kaoru made breakfast, which he ate without complaint. He donned his uniform and hated that his daughter looked so sad when she saw him. However, she didn’t mention it, only asking if he had everything he needed. She trailed him past the front door, the frosted grass crackling under their footsteps.

“I’ll see you soon, Otou-san.” She said, decidedly using the temporary farewell.

“Yes. Protect the school while I’m gone, and go back inside, before you catch a cold. I’ll see you soon, Kaoru.” He clasped her shoulder, hoping to give some strength to her. Then, with great reluctance, he let go and walked alone. He closed the gate behind him, waited until Kaoru locked it again, and headed into town to join his regiment.

The journey to Satsuma was taxing, as they sailed towards Kyushu. He wasn’t as young as many of the other men, and when they camped on the southern island, he fell asleep once his head touched his pillow. The nightmares trickled back, becoming more convoluted every night. The return to the battlefield was dreaded by the other policemen, especially since they were only given wooden batons and swords. He couldn’t help but be somewhat relieved by the lack of a gun. He struck at shoulders, feet, anywhere that wasn’t lethal.

Months passed, as Saigo Takamori’s defeat forced him to flee and the Imperial army followed suit. The minor skirmishes with Saigo’s men culminated into a pincer attack on the Satsuma rebels. Koshijiro gritted his teeth and continued with striking through. To move forward, so this could be over as soon as possible. Suddenly, the line fell back, and he was perplexed for a moment, before the surrounding shouts alerted that there would be shelling. The order was to retreat, to gain as much distance for the explosions that would soon rock the battleground. Koshijiro didn’t even have to time to sheath his sword, the adrenaline humming under his skin, demanding to run as fast and far as he could. The men were tripping over each other and cursing, the fear and apprehension whittling their tempers.

A distant boom, then faint screams. Two steps later, it repeated, only closer. How much time did he have left? Koshijiro’s heart pounded out the tense seconds. A young soldier, barely older than Kaoru, stumbled to his right. Koshijiro switched his katana to his left hand and grabbed the boy’s collar. Using the momentum of his own body, he thrust the boy in front. “Take cover!” He bellowed.

Sound. It deafened him.

Force. His left arm, still outstretched behind him, twisted.

Heat. It seemed to split his skin open.

Pain. And that was enough for his eyes to roll back.

Forgive me, Kaoru-

***

He woke up, and he could hardly draw breath. He blinked. He had his sight. He was on his back, staring up at a white ceiling. The clamor of groaning men filled his ears. The smells of urine and blood were strong, and he didn’t dare open his dry mouth. He was in a hospital, a crowded one at that. For how long, he didn’t know.

I’m Kamiya Koshijiro, forty-five years old. I have a daughter, Kaoru, who is seventeen. We live in Tokyo. I work with the Tokyo Metropolitan police. I teach Kamiya Kasshin, the sword that protects.

There, his memory was intact. Although when he tried to remember what happened after the explosion, he couldn’t recall anything after the storm of sensation. He must have fainted. He twitched his fingers, his toes. No pain. He turned his head right. Well, his neck wasn’t broken, just stiff. Against his pillow, there was soft friction; the back of his head was bandaged. His right forearm bore the healing crust of a scrape, and he deduced he must have fallen on that side. But he could move his wrist and elbow joints, so there were no fractures. He checked the left-

Immediately, he jerked his head away. Shock kicked in. He didn’t have an arm. His left arm was gone. There was just wrapped white cloth, encasing the end of his shoulder. Then, why could he still feel it, down to the fingertips? He looked again, to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him.

He stared and stared and stared. He didn’t have an arm.

Distantly, he heard a nurse call out that he was awake, and footsteps approached. A doctor introduced himself before asking identifying questions. Koshijiro’s voice was raspy from disuse but he demonstrated he knew who he was. The doctor provided new details.

Koshijiro was in a hospital close to one of the harbors in Satsuma. A week had passed. The Imperial army was fighting on, with the last of the rebel forces weakened. Most of the province was back in the Emperor’s control and it would be a matter of weeks before Saigo surrendered. Reportedly, Koshijiro was found on the battlefield, alone and unconscious. When he was moved here, he had convulsed to reality and blood loss brought him under again.

Overall, he was in rough shape. The explosion had singed some of his hair off, and his skull had to be partially shaved. He had superficial burns on his back, that worsened on his left side. His right knee was swollen and abraded, and part of his big toenail was torn. His body bore minor cuts and bruises from landing. And he no longer had a left arm. The doctor actually had to remove more bone and tissue because what remained after the blast was not clean. But it was free from shrapnel and they could only do their best to prevent gangrene.

He was warned that there would be pain, that his body would not properly recognize that his left arm was gone. Multiple medicines were given to him, and his mouth gained a perpetual bitter taste. He slept in fits throughout his stay. All around him, other men were dying. He always noticed when another body was carried out.

A week passed, but he wasn’t quite healing. He forced himself to look at the dressings as they were changed, and they didn’t seem promising. He bitterly thought he couldn’t recover as well as he could in this place, but he had no say here. And then, one morning, he felt lethargic and his stomach sank in realization. A small part of him clung to hope that it would pass soon, but he forgot it as he became more and more delirious.

The hospital staff was saying he was feverish, and he groggily understood it was bad, because he felt so cold. Sleep was tempting. There was more medicine, more people hovering over him. He felt numb, it would be very easy to sleep forever. Too weak to struggle, his eyes closed.

He did not expect to dream.

He was sitting on the porch, the moon abnormally large and bright above. A quiet warm summer’s night. And he couldn’t see her, but he could feel Kyoko’s presence, as if she was standing behind him.

You’re so close.

I know. But not yet, Kyoko. I made a promise to you, didn’t I?

It was as if she was laughing, her breath warm against his neck. Then, please go home.

Yes. He couldn’t possibly disobey and he was swallowed once more by the void.

When he woke, his fever had broken. To the doctors’ surprise and awe, he had overcome the infection. He didn’t feel like it was miraculous at all; he had made promises and he intended to keep them. Once he heard his wounds were healed, he declared. “I’m leaving.” The response was dismissive, until he tried to leave his bed. He’d had enough of being in the hospital, he argued, and he’d heal more if he wasn’t restrained. That only sent him to another facility, with others in slightly better condition. From so much time on bedrest, he was frustratingly weak, and his legs shook underneath him when he attempted to walk around. But he pushed on, easily recalling a blue-clad figure with braids in her family’s yard, and conjuring a younger one, years later, who must be teaching in the dojo. Even if he no longer had one arm, he still had the other, his legs, and his head. That was good enough to get by. By the time he was discharged, the war had ended with Saigo’s suicide. His return home was overdue but winter’s approach undercut his pace. He was trying desperately not to get sick again.

The initial leg was frustratingly slow. He had no money, and any innkeeper dismissed his offer of labor. One benefit about his amputation was that it was noticeable, and kind strangers would grant him a night or two in a stable or on a fishing boat. But most people tended to avoid his gaze, so he did his best to keep moving. The new phantom pains were excruciating, his ghostly arm wrenching as it had in its final moments. Those incapacitating occasions, as well as his poor physical shape, forced him to rest often, to his chagrin.

He took one such break, on the wayside of a market street. He had managed to buy passage back to Honshu, though it meant he had to agree to a slight detour, since the port was not close to the main roads he recognized. This town was bustling with naval activity, thanks to the iron ships anchored in the dark water. The marine air was soothing, and the latest episode of pain ebbed with each deep breath.

“Ojii-san, where did your arm go?”

He startled, and in his periphery, a little boy stared at him with round eyes. There was a flood of emotion, but his most prominent thought was: I can’t tell this child it was blown off! “Well…” He searched for an appropriate thing to say. “I traded it.”

“For what?”

“So I could go home.”

A woman in her early thirties approached, holding the hand of a slightly older boy. “Sadatake! Oh, I’m so sorry.” The mother was so mortified, bowing her head multiple times. Her obi rested low, under the modest curve of her belly. “Sadatake, apologize to this uncle.”

“Sorry.”

“Please, don’t concern yourselves over it.”

She searched his face for a moment. “You look like you could use some rest and good food. Why don’t you come to our place? My husband wouldn’t mind at all.”

“I couldn’t impose.”

“No, I insist.” She pressed her palm on her rounded abdomen and smiled beatifically. The underlying message was not to upset her. “And my husband’s heading this way right now.” She directed her gaze over his shoulder, and he pivoted.

What he saw stunned him.

The man had plenty of silver in his hair, and his right leg dragged with each step, though the sleeping toddler draped over his shoulder didn’t help. Those fox eyes had regained their spark and framed by creases, they widened in recognition. “Kamiya? Kamiya Koshijiro?”

“Hayashi.” He shook his head at the incredulity of the moment, and he gestured to the site of his recent loss. “After all this time, I would certainly like to talk to you.”

The family led the way to a modest house, near Hayashi’s workplace at a naval office. The boys were young, having turned three, five, and seven, and they had just finished celebrating the milestone thrice over. Hayashi was a long way off from his former devastated self. Koshijiro felt a mixture of relief and sympathy as he watched his friend mind the little ones’ table manners at dinner.

“Sadakazu, here, move your cup away so you won’t spill it. Sadanori, wipe your mouth.” Even as he was speaking, he was already carrying out the actions, inspecting his youngest’s face one last time to ensure it was thoroughly clean. Hayashi’s wife fondly watched the spectacle, as Sadatake ate beside her.

The comfort of having a meal at a full table was a balm to Koshijiro’s weary spirit. After the dishes were cleared and the boys were sent to bed, despite their loud protests, Hayashi poured out two cups of warm sake. Koshijiro inhaled the fragrance, appreciating the liquor.

“Been saving up this bottle for a while, and I’m glad I did. I haven’t had the chance to drink in a while either.”

He took a sip. Just hot enough and very good indeed. “I didn’t know you’d become a family man.”

“I didn’t really expect to be one.” Hayashi admitted. “During the Bakumatsu, I was here, watching the troops travel past and trying not to feel useless. But Akie’s family clan sided with the Satcho alliance, and that’s how we met. There wasn’t much of a ceremony, because we married against her family’s wishes. I don’t blame them; I can still hardly believe she’d pick me. But before I could scare her off, the boys came along. Now it’s twins, so I hope at least one of them can convince the rest to be calm and kind to their old father.”

Koshijiro laughed. It was the first time in months, he realized, that he had. “You’ll miss some of it when they’re this young.”

“You have a family, don’t you? A daughter?”

“Yes, Kaoru is in Tokyo. Kyoko passed away, seven years ago.”

Hayashi’s jaw clenched. “I’m sorry. But you made her happy, anyone could see that. ”

Koshijiro chose not to reply, instead drinking from his cup.

“How old is your daughter now?”

“She’s seventeen.” He had missed her birthday. Discomfort spread through him.

“Damn, you’ll probably be marrying her off before the twins arrive.”

“Kaoru’s still young.”

“I was married to my first wife when I was younger than that.” Hayashi countered. “And it’s been months since you’ve been gone.”

Koshijiro frowned. “I need to return.”

“Ah, you haven’t changed much at all.” His friend grinned. “Maekawa’s in Tokyo too, right? Well, don’t tell him or anyone else yet that I’m here. I will, when I’m ready. Probably after Akie delivers.”

“I think they’d be glad to know you’re living well, but I understand.” The last of the alcohol was drained, and Hayashi thumped his back before urging him to retire. That night, he slept comfortably.

Before dawn broke, he intended to leave quietly, not to bother them anymore and to get a head start on his day. But he wasn’t as quiet as he hoped, for rustling noises carried over into the hallway. He tried to quicken his pace, but a door slid open.

“Gotcha.”

His sighed. “Good morning, Hayashi. And Akie-san.” The couple walked towards him with intent, Hayashi’s hand in his robe.

His friend clicked his tongue. “Good morning indeed. Were you trying to sneak away? How foolish, Kamiya. My wife’s hearing is not to be underestimated. Especially since we want to give you this.” He pushed a cloth bag into Koshijiro’s hand, the hefty weight studded with the metal ridges of the coins within.

“I can’t possibly accept. Please, keep this for your children.”

“They have plenty already. You, on the other hand, don’t have a naval secretary father, so take it.”

Akie added. “It’s a long road to Tokyo, especially when traveling alone. If you can find safety on a boat, a train, or even a cart, we’d be at ease knowing you have the means.” She then kept her voice low. “And I wanted to personally thank you. I know what you and your friends did for my husband, all those years ago, and it’s because of you that I have him. That I have my children and this life. I hope this is a fraction of what I owe you.”

His resistance crumbled. “…I promise not to squander it. In return, I hope you have a safe delivery.” He stepped out, to slip on his shoes.

Hayashi held his wife by the waist, to shield her from the morning chill, and raised his hand in farewell. “If you ever need anything else, let me know.”

“I will, and thank you. It was good to see you.” They bowed to one another, and he did not look back. His path was clear.

The days unfolded, one after another. At last, the surroundings became familiar, and every step took him towards the dojo, his school, and Kaoru.

***

In the first week of July, the Kyoto police informed them that Shishio and his followers had revealed themselves. Koshijiro was loath to miss an incoming message, and he remained at the station with the night shift, catching himself from nodding off until his sore neck forced him to trudge back to the empty house. The contingency plan was never far from his mind, even manifesting in his dreams. He was awake for good when the news came that Shishio’s ship was burning and falling to pieces off the shoreline. And then, there was another telegram within the hour.

“This one was specifically meant for you, Officer Kamiya.” The chief wryly said. “From your daughter.”

It was short but conveyed so much. WE WON. ALL SAFE.

If he was the type to dance, he could have danced all the way home. But he wasn’t, and ultimately, that meant he noticed that the lights were still on in Dr. Gensai’s clinic. When he knocked, Takani opened up, her eyes tired but offering a little smile when she recognized him. “Kamiya-san?”

“Yes, I have good news. The battle was won in Kyoto.” He showed her the telegram with pride.

“Really?” She exhaled in relief. “I’m so thankful. But it must have been difficult. I would like to see if they need care…”

“Then, let’s go. We’ll leave with the first train in the morning.”

“Just like that?” Takani laughed. “Well, I won’t argue. I’ll tell Dr. Gensai and get my supplies. See you in a few hours.”

He could hardly wait.

#rurouni kenshin #at arm's length #kamiya koshijiro #can you believe my version of koshijiro has returned before the hokkaido arc's

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my-proof-is-you · 5 years ago

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The Cost of Protection - Ch. 23

Summary: Pain, bruises, and cover-up. You had come to accept that this was now your life. He was cruel, but you had to stay with him. It was the only choice. That is, until you meet the green-eyed stranger that refuses to let it go… You have protected others for a long time. Can you learn to be the one to be protected? Can you trust two strangers that say they won’t let anything bad happen?

Warnings: Rape/Non-con; abuse

**I do not own any images or gifs

Masterlist

Dean

Sam and Dean entered the building, angel blades at the ready. When Dean took a few steps in, he saw an open room with dirty and scratched hardwood floors. It looked as if it had once been a ballroom, but had fallen into disrepair. An old chandelier hung from the ceiling, dusty and slightly askew. In front of them there was a wide staircase with red carpeting that was brown in many spots and torn.

Around the entire perimeter of the room, there were sigils written in either blood or paint on the walls. Dean looked at Sam, his brow furrowed.

“Sammy, you destroy these sigils,” Dean said, tossing a can of spray paint to his brother. “I’m gonna keep going.”

“Dean, you really shouldn’t go alone. He might even already know we’re here!” Sam said, barely able to keep his voice below a yell.

“I don’t care. I’m going. Get to work!” With that, Dean began climbing the long staircase stealthily.

When he reached the landing, he saw a long hallway to his right with closed doors every couple of feet. He began his trek down the hallway, opening doors as he went. Every room he peered into was a rundown hotel room. The beds were covered in dust, the mirrors broken, and the smell of mold was almost overpowering.

When he got halfway down the hall, Dean heard movement behind him. The little hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he knew it wasn’t Cas or Sammy. Dean turned on his heel and plunged the angel blade into the chest of a woman who looked to be about mid thirties. Her eyes and mouth flickered orange before she dropped to the ground, dead.

Dean removed his blade from her and looked up to see two more demons approaching. “So, you demon lackeys take orders from an angel? Isn’t that kind of…pathetic in the demon world?”

The demons inside the two men in front of him both flashed their eyes black, easily angered by his comments. The one on the right—a short man with a balding head of blonde hair—stepped toward him. “You better shut your mouth if you know what’s good for you, Winchester. In case you haven’t noticed, there’s two of us and one of you,” he said, his lips curling into a sneer.

“I’ve beaten worse odds,” Dean said. He lunged forward, punching the smug demon in the face and sending him flying backward. This gave Dean the chance to focus on killing the other demon.

The tall demon on the left let out a growl and ran forward, landing a punch to Dean’s gut. He doubled over for just a moment to catch his breath. The demon took the bait and came toward him again. Before he knew what was happening, though, Dean had straightened up and stabbed him with the blade, his eyes flickering orange like the demon before him. He pulled the blade out and looked up again. The short, balding demon was smoking out.

“Fucking coward,” Dean said, wiping the blade on his jacket. He turned and continued down the hall, checking each room again.

Three doors down from the end of the hall, Dean found a heavy wooden door that was locked. He knew this was probably the one you were in. He stepped back for a moment before lifting his boot and kicking the door in.

When the door opened, Dean saw that the room looked just like the others, only clean and new. He walked in slowly, blade still at the ready. Nothing, though, could prepare him for what he saw next.

You were on the floor near the far side of the room. You were naked, and at first glance all Dean saw was red covering your body.

It was blood.

There were cuts on almost every inch of your skin. Any part that wasn’t cut was swollen, bruised, or had a bone sticking out in a way it wasn’t supposed to. Dean rushed to your side, kneeling next to you.

He couldn’t tell yet if you were alive. You weren’t moving—either sleeping or unconscious, he hoped. Dean placed his fingers on your neck to try to find a pulse and felt the faintest thrumming there.

“Ah, I knew you would come eventually,” a snide voice said from behind Dean.

Dean turned, ready to murder the asshole that did this to you. Before he could come after Rahab, though, he was pushed by an invisible force against the wall.

“Let’s have a little chat, shall we?”

Dean

“You son-of-a-bitch,” Dean said, struggling to move.

“I had no doubt that you would show up and try to save the day. Stupid, stupid, boy,” Rahab replied.

“What makes you think I won’t?” Dean asked, venom in his voice.

“Well, by the looks of it, you’re going to die instead.”

“I’ve gotten out of worse,” Dean said.

“Dean, Dean, Dean,” Rahab began, pacing the room. “I don’t think you understand who I am. You see, I don’t even have to lift a finger to hurt you. For example,” he said, casting his eyes toward Dean.

Dean immediately felt the pain of his arm being broken. “Agh, you bastard!” He yelled, still trying to free himself from the invisible force.

“There’s much more where that—“ Rahab began. He was cut off by Sam and Cas throwing open the door to the room. Sam tackled the angel before he had time to react, and Dean felt himself slip from the wall. Cas ran over to him, touching his arm to heal him.

Once Dean was healed, he immediately got up and ran over to Sam and Rahab, ready with his blade. Rahab threw Sam off of him, sending him to the other side of the room where he crashed into the wall and fell to the floor.

Dean lunged for Rahab but was also thrown back, hitting his head on the same wall as Sam. He was seeing stars and having trouble getting up.

Dean looked up and saw Cas walking toward Rahab.

“Oh, hello there, brother,” Rahab said, turning toward Cas.

“I am not your brother. You are an abomination,” Cas replied, mirroring Rahab’s circling dance around the room.

“Oh, but don’t you think we are the same? Disobeying orders? Walking the earth? I think we are more similar than you realize,” Rahab replied.

Cas turned his head to Dean, who got the message easily. Cas disappeared and reappeared behind Rahab. Cas grabbed him by the arms and held him in place while Dean got up and ran over. He quickly plunged it into him.

“We are not alike,” Cas said as a bright light began to shine from Rahab’s body. With a loud shriek, Rahab burst into light and Cas dropped him to the ground.

“Nice work, Cas,” Dean said, walking over to give Sam a hand to help him up.

“Is she…?” Sam began.

Dean turned toward Cas. “She has a pulse but just barely. Can you heal her?”

Cas walked over to you, bending down and gently placing two fingers to your forehead. “She is very severely injured. Because of it being done by an angel, I’m afraid there isn’t anything I can do right now.”

“What? Cas, come on, you have to fix her!” Dean said, bending down next to you as well.

“I can take you to a hospital. Until she begins healing the deepest wounds by herself, I cannot do much else. I’m sorry.”

Dean looked at you and gently stroked your face. You opened your eyes, which were still glazed over.

“Y/N, sweetheart? It’s me. I’m here. You’re going to be okay,” Dean said, looking you in the eyes.

“Mmm, you’re back,” you said, your voice scratchy.

Back? Dean thought to himself. He knew you were really out of it.

“I’m here, because of your note, smart girl. We’re gonna get you to a hospital and you’re gonna be okay,” he said, trying to get you to focus on his face.

“Mmm,” you said, closing your eyes again. You lost consciousness.

“Cas, come on, we gotta get her there now. I don’t know how much longer she’ll make it,” Dean said, panic clouding his mind.

“Okay. Hold on,” Cas said, grasping the three of you. Dean just hoped you weren’t too far gone to be helped.

Forevers:

@malfoysqueen14

@divadinag

@lynne1993

@awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce

@infj-slytherclaw

@onethirstyunicorn

@sammykb1994

Deanies:

@tftumblin

@deans-baby-momma

@akshi8278

@weepingwillowphoenix

@playingdeep17

This Fic:

@my-soul-is-the-moon

@riverdalesserpent

@savannah0111

@sourwolf-sterek32

@justanotherwinchester

@obama-mia

@samsgirl93

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural imagine #SPN #spn fanfic #spnfandom #SPNFamily #spn imagine #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester/reader #Sam Winchester #castiel #abuse #fanfic #fluff #angst

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solastia · 6 years ago

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Rogues And Charlatans | 3

Pairing: Yoongi x Seokjin

Word Count: 3,501

Summary: What is a gang leader supposed to do when his longtime rival shows up at his door, beaten and begging for help? Defend their honor, of course.

Warnings & Genre: Mafia!au, Fluff, and poorly attempted crack. There will be light violence, but nothing overly graphic. Maybe one person gets shot point blank. Basically, this isn’t a dark and serious mafia fic. It’s just a bunch of crooks in love, y’all.

The warehouse was near the seaport, nearly an hour away, and the entire drive there was made in silence. Everyone was tense and battle ready, fearing the worst but hoping for the best. Yoongi had even generously offered to let Seokjin be in control of the music if he wanted (something he never offered to anyone), but he had declined, stating the silence was comforting. Yoongi didn’t really understand that, because if anything it made him jittery, but he let it drop. Only the occasional forlorn sighs broke through the tense stillness as Yoongi tried his best to get them there as quickly as possible.

After what felt like the longest trip of his life, the building came into view and Yoongi pulled into an alley to alert his men. The sun was just beginning to set, lending an eerie crimson glow to the area that he hoped wasn’t a sign of things to come. It had been way too long since he’d last been out doing his own dirty work, so he was maybe a little on edge. Message sent, he sighed weightily and pulled out his gun, checking it over and stashing another clip into his jacket. The car was suddenly filled with the sounds of buckles being undone and weapons being loaded and checked as the others followed suit.

“Joonie, give me a gun.”

“Baby, no. You’re going to be in the car and Yoongi’s men are watching. You don’t need a gun.”

“I’m not staying here. Haven't you seen horror movies? The person that stays in the car always gets killed.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s the opposite, sweetheart. Just stay here for me, please? I’ll be able to concentrate better if I know you’re safe.”

“Joon! Come on!”

Yoongi growled and pulled an extra Glock from his glove box and held it behind him.

“Jesus Christ, if he wants to fight so bad, let him. Honestly Hoseok, I don’t even understand why you’re here.”

Hoseok smiles widely as he meets Yoongi’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

“If Jungkookie is hurt he’ll need me.”

Yoongi supposed that was true. “Still, stay close to us. Don’t draw attention to yourself. Do you even know how to shoot that?”

Hoseok shrugged sheepishly, which Yoongi took to mean he didn’t.

“Have Namjoon explain it before we get out. Only shoot if you have to. How someone could apparently work for three fucking gangs and not know how to shoot is a mystery,” he sighed, then pulled out his phone to send one last text to let his men know they were ready.

“I’m a doctor. People tend to avoid shooting the person that keeps them alive and asks no questions.” Hoseok smirks before turning to quietly talk to Namjoon.

Yoongi shook his head fondly, then turned to Seokjin,

“You ready?”

Yoongi had admittedly never seen Seokjin in action before, so the person next to him was practically a stranger. Seokjin was sitting ramrod straight, his gaze locked onto the warehouse in front of them. His eyes were hard and cold and his plush lips that were usually laughing or smirking were set in a hard line. He already had his good hand firmly clenched around his Beretta and had his injured arm hidden in the folds of his jacket. You could barely tell he was hurt. He looked like a man that could kill you without a thought before going to have tea with his mother. This was the crime boss Kim Seokjin and Yoongi had very complicated emotions about the way he looked right now. The sudden image of him on his knees staring up at this version of Seokjin was one that he didn’t think would go away very soon.

Seokjin turned to him, his eyes softening for a moment as he nodded. Yoongi answered with a quirk of his lips then signaled to everyone else. They silently left the car, barely closing to doors to not make a sound. Seokjin was on his left and Namjoon took his usual spot on his right. Jimin and Hoseok were behind him, with Jimin taking the initiative to guard Hoseok.

They prowled towards the side door Yoongi’s man had told him about, the guard already having been taken out the moment he’d told them they were here. He whistled lowly and his guard noiselessly appeared out of the shadows, twelve men circling around the group with their firearms aimed ahead. Seokjin turned to Yoongi with a smirk, impressed. He wiggled his eyebrows and grinned, pleased to get to show off. He knew he had some of the best-trained men in the game.

The man that Yoongi had working undercover was the one that met them by the door, guiding them in silently and pointing to the office on the third floor where the leader was holed up. Jungkook would also be found there in a separate room, with the leader’s brother as a guard.

Yoongi signaled his men to go ahead of them to silently take out as many as they could before they were found out, only keeping a couple with his party as backup. The last thing he wanted was for this leader to run off. He wanted to get a few kicks in himself before presenting the asshole to Seokjin with a god damn ribbon and letting him do what he wanted.

As his group quietly stalked up the stairs, he could hear occasional grunts or the telltale muffled burst as someone used a silencer. His men were quick and efficient, as usual, and soon had both the first and second floors cleared. There were two guards blocking the way to the office and Yoongi jerked his head towards one to signal Seokjin to take him out as he took on the other one.

Yoongi used the butt of his gun to knock the guy out, not wanting to waste a bullet on someone so insignificant, and the low grunt as Seokjin used his knife on the other showed a ruthlessness that Yoongi wasn’t aware he was capable of.

He was both turned on and a little terrified.

Namjoon set his foot on the door and waited for Yoongi to count down before slamming it open, nearly tearing the door on the hinge. The five people inside all jumped up and clumsily turned their guns on them, before lowering them just as quickly as Yoongi’s men, now numbering thirty easily, began to crowd into the room. All the people in Yoongi’s group, even Hoseok, had their guns trained on five men. The terror on their faces was amusing. They knew there was no getting out of this one.

“Which one of you asswipes is the leader?” Yoongi asked nonchalantly, strolling closer and looking them. Not a single one of them looked very impressive.

A stocky and nearly bald guy walks forward, dressed in knockoff streetwear and at least ten chains that were probably painted plastic. The man is obviously scared, but trying his best to maintain face in front of his guys, strutting towards Yoongi and pointing his chin up in a way he apparently thought was intimidating.

“That’s me. Who the fuck are you?”

Yoongi guffawed at the brazenness of this asshole, pointing at the man and sharing an amused grin with Namjoon.

“Seriously? You’re that fucking stupid? You come into my town and start shit, not knowing who the big boys are? I’m Min Fucking Yoongi, ring any bells now?”

The man's face goes white, obviously aware of the name even if he hadn’t known him on sight.

“I didn’t do anything towards you, man. This is just a little business.”

“No, see. It doesn’t work like that. When you play a game, you level up and work your ass off before you can fight the boss. You don’t stride into town with a handful of petty thugs and think you can win. You went right after Kim Seokjin, someone who has been at this longer than you’ve been alive, and think you can take him on. It’s only a matter of time before you think you can fuck with me, and that isn’t happening. Where’s the fucking kid?”

“Look, just give me what I asked for and we can all go home happy, huh? All I wanted was a cut, no big deal to you guys, right?”

Seokjin growled, sending shivers down Yoongi’s spine.

“Give me Jungkook. I’m not as nice as Yoongi so I won’t ask again.”

“And I said give me what I asked for. You want to “play the game” or whatever you geezers were calling it, right? Just-”

A gunshot sounded, a little too close to Yoongi’s ear for his comfort, and the leader fell to the ground. The wound was in the middle of his forehead, a perfect headshot. Yoongi quickly turned behind him and caught Jimin’s eye. He shrugged and huffed.

“What? I hate it when people let the bad guy talk so much. The whole evil monologue thing is annoying as hell.”

Yoongi shook his head, but his lips quirked in an amused smirk. Maybe the Park kid wasn’t half bad.

Yoongi looked over the remaining men, all who looked ready to bolt.

“Get the fuck out. Or stay, if you want to join your friend here.”

The remaining thugs ran out of the room, a couple stumbling after Yoongi’s guards tripped them. He sighed as he watched them run for it. It was hard to find good help these days. He knew his men wouldn’t dream of running like cowards.

“Well, this was a little anticlimactic, wasn’t it?” Hoseok chuckled.

“Jungkook?!” Seokjin yelled out, trying to guess which of the three doors ahead of them lead to his brother’s location.

“Kookie baby, you in here?” Jimin joined him in tapping on the doors and peering inside the unlocked ones.

“IN HERE!” Jungkook’s voice rang from the metal door near the back of the office, where it was, of course, locked from the outside.

They heard the murmur of duel voices talking excitedly inside the room and Jimin stayed by the door as Namjoon looked around for a key or something. They found the key in the leader’s pocket and rushed to open the door.

Jimin had his gun pointed towards the other man in the room as Seokjin ran to Jungkook and gathered him up, his former cold exterior melting as he inspected his brother for damage. Jungkook was rumpled from wearing the same clothes for the past couple days but otherwise seemed undamaged.

“I’m okay, Jin, really. Taehyung didn’t let them hurt me. He convinced them they’d get more if they left me alone. We’ve just been in here playing cards and watching Netflix on his phone. It was a nice vacation really, although food service sucked,” Jungkook giggles as he tugged himself from Seokjin’s grasp and walked over to Jimin.

“Hey babe, I missed you.”

Jimin lowered his gun and wrapped Jungkook into his arms, tucking his head into the crook of his neck.

“I missed you. Never do that again.”

“I promise I’ll never get kidnapped again,” Jungkook chuckled, before turning and gesturing towards the other man. “Guys, this is Taehyung. He’s the boss’s brother, but he’s cool.”

“Yeah? Well, your brother’s dead. I killed him,” Jimin sneered, although the friendly demeanor of Taehyung’s didn’t change.

He shrugged, still smiling brightly. “ Half brother. He was a dick. Kicked me around a lot. Won’t miss him. So you’re Jimin? Jungkookie wasn’t kidding when he said you were gorgeous. Hello, pretty Jiminie.”

Yoongi observed the trio with a quirked eyebrow, not even wanting to know where this was going, although watching Jimin flounder and blush under Taehyung’s flirty grin was a little amusing.

He turned to Seokjin, who was finally starting to wilt now that adrenaline was no longer fueling him.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you in a bed before you collapse.”

Seokjin beamed down at him as he draped his arm across Yoongi’s shoulders.

“You called me a pet name,” Seokjin crooned as they wobbled down the steps.

“Lies and slander.” Yoongi could feel his face heating up, trying to reason with himself that it was just from the effort of trying to lug this giant around.

“It’s only fair I get to call you one now. Hmm, honey? Pookie? Cupcake?”

Seokjin’s teasing grin was burning a hole into Yoongi’s brain, he was sure of it. And it stopped altogether when Seokjin’s voice deepened and he whispered, “Baby boy?” right into his ear.

Yoongi glared up at Seokjin, whose knowing smile only grew in size as Yoongi tried his best to intimidate the other into silence.

He helped Seokjin into the car and buckled him up before going around and getting into the driver’s seat. The back slowly filled up, Hoseok on Namjoon’s lap and Jimin in Jungkook’s. Taehyung was in the middle for some reason and Yoongi looked at him curiously.

“Why are you in my car?”

“He’s coming with me to Jimin’s,” Jungkook mumbled into Jimin’s shoulder as he cuddled into the smaller man.

“And Jimin is okay with this?” Seokjin asked, peering around his seat as much as his bruised ribs would allow.

“Yeah. It’s cool,” Jimin answered airily, although Yoongi caught the flash of interest in his eyes as he glanced at Taehyung.

Yoongi and Seokjin shared a look and decided to drop it.

The ride back was almost as silent as it was before, although it lacked the tense air. Instead, it was like everyone was basking in relief, relishing the safety of each other. There had been many deaths that night, but as Yoongi took in the relaxed faces of those around him, he couldn’t find it in him to feel guilty.

He rolled into the gravel driveway of his mansion, coming to a stop by the front steps. A couple of his men met them there and opened the car doors for them. Yoongi walked around to help Seokjin out as the rest of them assisted each other out of the back.

Yoongi backed off and stood awkwardly on his front steps as Seokjin hugged Jungkook, saying goodbye and nagging him into coming home for dinner eventually. Soon Jimin came and collected Jungkook from his clinging older brother and began herding him and Taehyung towards his own car. Yoongi cleared his throat and clasped Jimin’s shoulder to hold him back for a moment.

“You did good today, kid. I think everyone should meet here at my place tomorrow afternoon, maybe talk about a few things.”

Jimin raised an eyebrow in surprise. “What? Like a partnership?”

“Something like that,” Yoongi shrugged. “Gotta admit, you impressed me and it felt good having you on my side. We’ll talk about it more tomorrow.”

Jimin nodded with a small grin and threaded his arm through Jungkook’s as he led him to his car, with Taehyung already inside waiting for them. Yoongi lifted his hand in a small wave as they drove off before he turned to the rest of the party.

Hoseok was looking over Seokjin’s arm, while Namjoon made eye contact with Yoongi only to make suggestive eyebrow waggles while gesturing at Seokjin. Who the fuck knew what he was trying to say but Yoongi was having none of it.

“Are you guys going to take Seokjin straight home or what's the plan?”

“Actually,” Seokjin laid his hand gently on Yoongi’s shoulder. “I was hoping I could just stay here again tonight? I really don’t feel like having to be in a car again. I’m tired and hungry, and I’d really like one of those pain pills now.”

Yoongi’s eyes widened as the depth of Seokjin’s exhaustion finally showed in his voice.

“Fuck, of course! Namjoon, you mind?”

“On it.” Namjoon gently scooped Seokjin up and started the journey into the mansion and up the stairs. Seokjin smiled sweetly at Yoongi over Joon’s shoulder.

Yoongi let out a long-suffering sigh and Hoseok patted his shoulder like he understood his pain.

“I’ll fix you guys something to eat. I’m sure you’re dying for a shower.” Hoseok offered as he walked beside Yoongi into the house. He nodded and quietly thanked Hoseok as he slowly trekked upstairs.

Yoongi’s own exhaustion was finally hitting him, the adrenaline that had kept him going all day now a thing of the past. He heard the shower going in Seokjin’s room as he passed it, and willed the thought of wet and naked Seokjin far from his mind. Luckily, he was too fatigued for any blood to head where he didn’t want it right now.

Once his own shower was done and he was clothed comfortably he went next door, finding Seokjin digging into a tray full of food enthusiastically. It looked like there was enough for two, which was probably how Hoseok’s meddling ass intended it. Seokjin waved him over and patted the empty spot next to him on the bed, scooting the tray so it would be in the middle where they both could reach.

Yoongi took a bread roll and slowly picked it apart, popping a piece into his mouth every now and then. He was hungry, but he was almost too tired to really worry about it. He simply sighed and relished the warm weight of Seokjin sitting next to him as they ate in silence, as Seokjin somehow ate quietly for what must be the first time in his life.

Once the tray was finished - ninety percent of it consumed by Seokjin - Yoongi picked it up and set it on the floor, planning on taking it with him when he left the room.

“You already take your pill?” He asked, looking over at the content albeit drained Seokjin settling into his covers.

“Yeah. Hoseok gave it to me before he and Namjoon went to bed. Did you know he lives here?”

That was definitely news to Yoongi. He’d known the annoying doctor was around a lot, but not that he shared Namjoon’s room.

“Next time he tries to bill me I’ll have to tell him it’s part of his rent.”

Seokjin hummed and scooted closer to Yoongi. The blankets were a bit of a barrier, with Yoongi on top of them as Seokjin was underneath, but it still felt amazingly intimate to Yoongi.

“Hey,” Seokjin whispered, so close that Yoongi could feel little puffs of air against his side. “You were amazing today. Thank you for helping me.”

“Yeah, well...” Yoongi shrugged, coughing a bit to cover up his awkwardness. “You know there's nothing I hate more than wannabe thugs.”

Seokjin gave a little throaty hum and leaned over, pressing a featherlight kiss against Yoongi’s side. Even though all that Seokjin’s lips touched were the cloth of Yoongi’s pajama shirt, it still felt like it was burning his skin.

“My hero,” Seokjin practically whispered, as his eyes began to drift shut.

“You’re tired. I’ll leave you to it,” Yoongi practically leap up in a rush to get away and scream in private, but Seokjin reached out and lightly tugged on his shirt.

“Stay? I feel safer when you stay.”

And oh fuck, who was he to say no to that?

Yoongi inhaled a shaky breath and nodded, lifting the covers up to slide underneath. He leaned over and shut off the light before trying to settle in. He stared up at the dark ceiling as his mind tried to process what was happening. Only it got worse, as Seokjin tiredly cooed and slid even closer, draping his good arm around Yoongi and tangling their legs together. He thought this should feel weird or uncomfortable, but as he felt Seokjin’s cheek settling onto his chest and inhaled the freshly washed sandalwood scent of him, it just seemed...right.

Yoongi was grateful for the dark veil of night as he couldn’t fight off the contented smile growing on his face. He closed his eyes and settled in for the best nights sleep he’d had in years.

#bts #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #seokjin fanfic #yoonjin #yoonjin fanfic #bts scenarios #yoongi scenarios #seokjin scenarios #mxm #mafia!au #mafia!bts #au #rogues and charlatans #solastia

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starwitch3000 · 5 years ago

Text

What’s Your Story? - 4

Pairing: Peter Quill x Reader

Summary: Reader goes on a cleaning spree that takes a turn. Help is needed.

Warning: language, drinking, bit angsty I guess, bookshelf abuse?

masterlist - ff.net

chapter three

You couldn’t put it off any longer. It had been over three weeks since the breakup. Today was the day you started deep cleaning your apartment and you started my trashing a bunch of stuff you ex had bought as long as you had no essential use for something. To begin you changed into so comfy clothes and turned on some music.

What started as some easy cleaning, like getting rid of old clothes and emptying your apartment of all the junk he left behind, turned into making your apartment look like it had been hit by a natural disaster. Never mind cluttering your dining room table with all of your work that was a normal mess you were used to.

There were piles of books, magazines, cds, movie in both the dvd and old vhs variety, and don’t forget books because shit did you have a lot of books scattered all around your place as you removed them from their home. An old beautiful bookshelf that your ex has bought for your birthday last year. It’s old dark wood had ornate designs carved on its sides and it was large enough to shelf all your books and still had space for other items and trinkets. You loved this bookshelf very dearly ever since you got it except today while cleaning today you realized just how much you actually hated it.

This was a gift from some ass hole who clearly never cared about you, but you spent so much of your time and effort on him and all this bookshelf did was remind you of him and your time wasted. It made you sick just looking at it. So you decided to get rid of it. Except that was proving to be difficult seeing as it was a very large and heavy bookshelf that, even with everything taken off of it, was extremely difficult for you to move on your own.

You really didn’t want to to let this bookshelf win but you could feel a panic attack rising, so frustrated to the point of tears you texted Natasha a 911. Desperately needing help getting rid of this thing.

Just moments after the text sent your phone immediately began ringing as Natasha called you.

“What’s wrong? What’s going on? Are you okay?” A panicked Natasha rang through your phone as soon as you answered.

“This thing won’t get out of my apartment,” you sobbed into the phone.

“What? Honey what are you talking about?” Natasha voice was calm but you could hear how worried she was.

“This disgusting ass useless bookshelf,” you explained through your tears, “I barely got that thing moved away from the wall and now it’s just sitting there mocking me!”

Natasha sighed through the phone, “of course you can’t move that thing by yourself it like a million pounds.”

“I can’t look at this thing anymore,” you tilted your head back to blink back more of your already streaming tears, “god I can’t even believe I’m freaking out over this stupid thing.”

“That’s the one dickhead got you right? You have a perfectly valid reason for freaking out over this what he did was terrible and it’s perfectly understandable that you’re still feeling this way,” she reassures you and that helps a little, “but listen honey, I’m tied up at work at the moment. We had a big case come in, so I would come over and help you get rid of the bookshelf but I can’t. Really sorry, but I’ll send Bucky over okay? He should be able to help.”

“I’m sorry for freaking out,” you sniffled.

“Do not apologize about this,” she quickly assured you, “I’m sorry I can’t make it over.”

“It’s okay,” you sniffle.

“But I was serious, I’m sending over Bucky okay? I don’t want you to be alone right now. He’s on his way.”

You nod and immediately feel stupid, “Okay thank you.”

Hanging up with Natasha you took some deep breaths to try and put this meltdown at bay before Bucky can show up. You throw your phone in your purse and wipe the tears off your face taking a quick survey of the room. Oh boy, it is a disaster a lot of the stuff you took off the bookshelf was haphazardly thrown about the room so you busy yourself with making neat stacks of your books and things at least to give your living room more walking space.

It doesn’t take long for Bucky to get there and you buzz him in.

“Wow,” He says once you open your door and let him in, “This is not what I was expecting…”

“I tried straightening up a bit before you got here but there’s just too much shit,” you sighed closing the door behind him.

“I was actually thinking it was going to be way worse if I’m being honest,” He shrugs, “Nat gave me the rundown and said you needed help getting rid of a bookshelf.”

“Yeah,” You walk up to the large bookshelf that towered over the both of you, “It’s got to go.”

Bucky let out a low whistle as he gave the bookshelf a look over. You were barely able to move it from its spot against the wall next to your tv stand, “Jesus this thing is huge how did you guys even get it in here.”

Rubbing your forehead you thought about it, “I think asshole hired some guys to move it up here. I’m not sure it was here when I got home from work one day and we never had a reason to move it since.”

Bucky nods and makes an attempt at moving the bookshelf. He’s able to get it maybe a foot further than you did before he has to stop.

“Holy shit okay think you can give me some help?”

This time you nod and get on the other side of the shelf. It barely budges with you both putting in all of your effort.

That overwhelming feeling in the pit of your stomach grows, “I’m never going to be rid of this stupid thing,” you kick the side of the bookshelf and sit on your coffee table covering your face as you feel yourself start to cry again.

Bucky clears his throat uncomfortably as he doesn’t know how to handle a crying friend very well, “Uh, you got a drill or something? Maybe we can take it apart. Might be easier to move if we can get the shelves out of it.”

“No I don’t,” you miserably say into your hands shaking your head.

“Okay that’s fine,” He says walking over to you kneeling down in front of you putting a comforting hand on your shoulder, “Tell you what how about I bring over some of my tools in the morning and we’ll get this thing out of here then.”

You nod keeping your face covered as a sob you were desperately trying to stop erupts from you.

“Hey now,” he says softly, “It’s alright let it out.”

“I hate feeling like this,” you mumble.

“I know but you’ll get through this. I know you will,” his voice is kind as he tries to make you feel better, “this was a bad breakup you just need some time. And you know, sometimes you’re going to feel great and like all of this is behind you, but sometimes shit like this is going to happen. That’s why you’ve got Nat and I. We’re here when you need us.”

You sigh dropping your hands from your face and give Bucky a miserable smile, “Thanks.”

“Want to go get drunk?”

“I would like that a lot actually.”

“Alright,” He stands up offering you a hand that you take to stand up as well, “Let’s get out of here. That thing wins the apartment for the night.”

You both grab your jackets, you made sure to grab your keys and purse as well, and you left the apartment. Walking outside the first thing that shocked you was how dark it was outside.

“Wait, what the fuck, how late is it?” you ask digging through your purse for your phone as you both walk.

“Nearly ten I think,” Bucky answers checking his watch, “Why?”

“Nothing I just didn’t realize how late it got. I’ve just been cleaning all day never occurred to me to look at the time,” you say giving up your search and let your bag fall to your side. The two of you head to the Milano where upon entering your greeted with the beginning of Seven Wonders by Fleetwood Mac playing loudly throughout the nearly empty bar. Peter was nowhere to be seen but Mantis and one of the guys you remember seeing the other night, the bald one with his arms covered in red tattoos, were on either end of the bar that they had cleared off so they could play coaster hockey.

Mantis notices you and Bucky when you walk in and she reaches and turns down the music.

“Hey (Y/N)!” Mantis says cheerfully and you give her a smile.

“Who touched the music?!” Peter’s voice shouted from a door that was behind the bar, “I told you guys not to touch it!”

“Oh shut up jackass there are actual humans here!” Mantis shouts back, “Ignore him, he’s doing inventory. Oh no what happened to you?”

She had taken in your red eyes and puffy cheeks and got worried.

“Oh you know, just the run of the mill Tuesday night meltdown,” you shrug and grab a stool from the bar to sit in.

“I got you,” Mantis nods and then hops up onto the bar and reaches over to grab some shot glasses and a bottle of whiskey, “so shots?”

“Mantis get off of the bar come on dude,” Peter sighs flabbergasted as he appears through the door carrying some boxes behind the bar.

“Well you said I wasn’t allowed behind the bar after last time so what did you want me to do?” She innocently asks.

“Stay out of shit,” he answers easily, “Hey (Y/N) and James? I think? I’m not entirely sure.”

“I’ve just been calling him the cat smuggler,” Mantis snorts lining up the shot glasses and filling them.

“It’s Bucky actually,” Bucky confirms taking a seat at the bar as well.

“I’m Peter this asshole is Mantis and that other asshole is Drax he likes to pretend he’s invisible,” Peter nods to Drax who was behind the bar with Peter moving the boxes Peter brought with him.

“You’re just jealous Quill,” Drax says, his voice is gruff and you find him slightly more intimidating than you did before, “It’s nice to meet both of you.”

“Grab some beers would ya,” Mantis says to Peter, “They’re too far away for me to reach.”

“What the hell are you doing?” He questions noticing Mantis’ set up of shots.

“Drinking with friends,” she says like it painfully obvious, “(Y/N) had a meltdown so it’s my sworn womanly duty to help her get super drunk so she forgets her problems.”

You nod in appreciation to Mantis and raise the shot glass she hands you to hers. The two of you clink and then down their shots. Hissing as the whiskey goes down you set down your shot glass for Mantis to refill.

“Well when you put it like that it makes perfect sense,” Peter says sarcastically but gets the beers that Mantis demanded anyways, and everyone passes around drinks until they each have one for themselves.

“Alright so what’s the story tonight?” Peter asks leaning against the counter.

You took a deep breath and shared a look with Bucky, “Well I started getting rid of shit in my apartment today, spent all day doing that actually, but then I realized that I had this dumb ass bookshelf just sitting in my living room that just had to go but it’s like impossible to move so I may have had several freak outs over it.”

“Reinforcements were called but that sucker just won’t move without having to take it apart,” Bucky confirms nursing a beer.

“What’s so wrong with this bookshelf?” Mantis asks.

“Her ex bought it as a birthday gift,” Bucky answers.

“It was a nice gift at the time really, but now it’s just this big gross chunk of unmovable furniture and I hate it. Looking at it just makes me sick I want it gone,” you spat at no one in particular taking a swig of beer to chill out.

“Well I mean we can probably go and help you get rid of this thing,” Mantis offers and your heart pangs from her compassion, “Five people is bound to be more help than just two.”

“We were just going to grab some tools from Bucky and Nat’s place because I don’t really have any anymore and get rid of it in the morning,” you shrug not really wanting to burden other people with this issue.

“Nonsense Drax has enough muscle to scare that shelf right out of your apartment,” Peter says.

“But your bar-”

“I would be leaving with my only two customers,” Peter cuts you off and moves to shut off his music, “It’s fine this place was dead tonight anyways.”

Mantis jumps off the bar and grabs a jacket she had laying on a table, “Grab some beers Peter were still going to need those.”

“Looks like we’re leaving,” You say to Bucky who looks far too amused to object to the situation.

“Looks like it,” He grins.

Peter grabs the beers as requested and they all move to leave the bar until Drax speaks up.

“Wait. Hold on,” Drax says and then disappears through the door behind the bar. The four of you exchange questioning looks but wait in silence for Drax to return. He does moments later. With two sledgehammers in hand.

“Uh… whoa there, what are you doing Drax?” Mantis questions.

“If we are going to remove this cursed shelves then we must do it properly,” He explains gesturing to the sledgehammers he’s holding.

“You can’t be serious…” You say stunned.

“Unfortunately he’s always serious,” Peter says and you look over to him wide eyed. He gives you a wink, “You get used to it.”

“(Y/N) I don’t want to alarm you but you might be making friends with some criminals,” Bucky comments jokingly.

“You know what,” you say shaking off the situation, “Life is already weird enough this might as well happen.”

So you all leave the bar after Peter locks up and head back to your apartment. You were a little shocked that you guys weren’t stopped along the way because of how sketchy your little group looked. Either way you all made it and you let everyone into your building, including the hammer wielding Drax.

“Alright fair warning I might have been cleaning all day but this place is a mess,” You warn unlocking your door walking in ahead of everyone to get the lights. They all follow you in and you hear Mantis gasp.

“Holy shit that dumb ass had some taste,” She immediately went over to the bookshelf to get a better look at the intricate carving along the side, “Are you sure you don’t want to sell it? Because I will totally buy this off of you right now.”

“No,” Drax answered for you, “It must be destroyed.”

Mantis pouts looking at the defenseless bookshelf before moving away from it.

“Alright let’s move some of this stuff so it doesn’t get ruined,” Peter says setting the two six packs he brought on you coffee table and rolls up his sleeves. You all take a moment to clear out your living room, moving most of the stuff into the adjoining dining room and kitchen just so you all have enough space.

“I feel like we’re prepping to murder somebody,” Mantis comments, “Should we lay down some tarps or something?”

“Nah I’ll just vacuum later were just killing an inanimate object so there’s no blood.”

She laughs, “You have a point.”

The two of you back away as the three boys move the bookshelf a little more away from the wall so there’s no accidental property damage. You and Mantis grab one of the six packs and crack yourselves open a beer each.

“You think your landlord is going to make new rules about not letting strange people with sledgehammers into the building?” She laughs.

“Honestly this kind of feels like his fault for not having that rule to begin with,” you say with a shrug.

“Alright this will do,” Drax declares then picks up one of the sledgehammers he had left leaning against you living room wall and makes a gesture for you to take it, “You should have the honor of the first swing ma’am.”

“Oh…” you gulp taking a drink of your beer before handing it off to Mantis. You walk over to Drax and the bookshelf ignoring Bucky and Peter dramatically taking cover as you take the sledgehammer. It’s very heavy and you’re shocked you didn’t immediately drop it. “Alright let’s do this.”

Drax steps away to give you some room and you step a little closer to the bookshelf.

Is this really happening right now? You’re seriously about to destroy this bookshelf with a sledgehammer? This feels insane. But also, you feel all the things you were feeling earlier. All the heartbreak that your ex had put you through. You loved him. Loved him. You thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with him. Then he just goes and dumps you for some job opportunity without even talking about it. It was clear that you meant nothing to him but during your relationship he was everything to you.

That anger wells up inside of you and you grip the hammer tight in your hands taking a deep breath before taking a swing sending the head of the hammer straight through the middle shelf breaking it with a satisfying crack.

You let out a shaky laugh setting the sledgehammer down carefully in front of you while Mantis cheers, “That felt really good.”

Drax claps a hand on your shoulder like a proud parent, “Let’s finish the job.”

You spend the rest of the night taking turns at breaking the bookshelf all while drinking, laughing and getting to know each other a little better. By the time the bookshelf is reduced to nothing but slabs of wood and splinters on your living room floor you definitely feel like a weight has been lifted off of you. Things feel better.

chapter five

#peter quill x reader #peter quill #peter quill bartender au #bartender au #modern au #starlord #starlord x reader

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