#where is the dashboard and why is everything black instead of blue

[sootbird]

what's up

hey i've been drawing a little bit (not nearly as much as i'd like), but i thought i'd come on here and post again

i'll post the few pieces i've done :) hope you're all doing well!!

[whitexwolfxx310]

Coffee Date

Coffee Date

Pairing: Bucky x female reader // Bucky x y/n

Summary: Spending time with Bucky outside of The Compound.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, cursing, argument with parents, super feels, Y/N.

Word Count: 3k

Previous Part

Masterlist

Sitting on the couch anxiously waiting for Bucky to get ready, you realize you're in the same spot that he held you just a few hours ago. You smile at the thought, taking your pointer finger and tracing a circle slowly on the sofa. The bedroom door opens, and there stands Mr. Barnes, looking more dashing than usual. He's not wearing all black. For once. Instead he has a grey shirt on with an opened black jacket complimented by dark blue jeans and of course, black gloves. In that moment you feel self conscious, looking down at the too big clothes that you slept in.

"Stop." He says, almost as if he can read your mind.

"Was telepathy a part of your training or just a learned skill?" You ask, smiling.

Bucky's head tilts up as he lets out a small laugh. "It's just observation, that's all." He dismisses. I wonder if that's partially due to being a super soldier. "Ready?" He asks, walking towards the door. You stand up and follow, willingly ready to follow him anywhere.

Well if I wasn't doing the walk of shame before, I am now. Until this moment it didn't click in your head that you now had to walk through The Compound, with Bucky, the morning after a party, in his clothes. You start to dread the side glances and grins you're about to endure. Here goes nothing... Bucky takes your dress that he hung up from the night before out of the front closet, and opens the front door. You put your hands out to take the dress but he waves your hand away. "I got it." He smiles and starts walking ahead. Following in his footsteps, you snort at the image of this man, as hard as stone and literally made of metal, walking with a golden sequin dress slung over his shoulder. I wish I could take a picture of this so I could always remember.

Walking out the main entrance, you realize that you have never had any interaction with Bucky outside of The Compound. It's strange. It almost feels wrong, like keeping a secret. As you follow him to the parking garage, he bee lines for an all black classic car. Everything about him is old fashioned. As he unlocks the car, you notice that it looks strangely familiar. It's an all black, vintage impala. You shake your head and laugh. "Are we meeting up with Sam, Dean, and Castiel to hunt some demons?"

Bucky has a baffled look on his face. "Who?" He retorts. You sigh, "I'll have to make some updates to that list I made you." He lays the dress across the back seat for you as you settle into the passenger seat. Bucky then gets into the drivers seat, adjusting how close the seat is to the steering wheel. (Which isn't much considering how tall he is.) It would be so embarrassing for him to see me drive. I'm so short I practically sit on the dashboard. Why is it that I'm surprised he drives? It's normal? People have been doing it for over a hundred years and he's no exception. The car roars to life, simple and relaxing jazz music pouring out the radio. Bucky quickly looks over at you trying to read your face, waiting to see what you think of the music.

"It's nice." You say, almost as if you're now the one reading his mind. He breathes out a sigh of relief as he puts the car into drive. "So, Y/N, where am I going?"

"You'll take the interstate South to exit 41. I'll explain more once we get closer." You smile in response to his nod.

The car ride is pretty quiet except for the soft music and the wind blowing through the open windows. Putting your hand out the window, you keep your fingers together, making a small airplane motion; moving your hand up, then down, just to repeat it again and again. The breeze blows into the sleeve of the henley you're wearing, giving you a small chill to bring your arm back into the car.

You look over at Bucky, enjoying watching him do something so ordinary. Being 16 and getting your license is a newfound sense of freedom. I expect for Bucky, it's similar. He's always being monitored and tracked. His every move is under a microscope. He notices, looking over at you. "What?" He says.

"Nothing. I was just thinking... aside from the music like this-" You gesture towards the radio, "That you grew up with, do you like anything that's more modern?" You ask curiously.

Bucky makes a disgusted look. "I don't care for it much. It's too noisy and I don't understand half of what they're saying." You shrug, "I'm not sure anyone does." You let out a small laugh. "How about we have you listen through the decades? I promise we'll figure out something that you'll like."

"That sounds nice." He says in agreement. And then it dawns on you; Maybe no one has ever taken the time to try and acclimate him to our world. Everyone has always just seen him as dangerous, unhinged, and untrustworthy. In this moment, you decide to commit to this, to him. Maybe this is just what he's needed all along. It sounds so simple and yet it was completely overlooked.

Before too long, the car is on a long dirt driveway, making it's way to your house. Bucky parks the car to the side to not block the front. It looks like my parents aren't home. He turns the car off but stays seated and doesn't say a word. "Um. Would you like to come in?" You ask, curiously. You're not used to a man who is patient and let's you take you're own time. It's true what they say, they just don't make them like they used to anymore. "Yeah, I would."

You fumble with your keys feeling suddenly frenzied that Bucky is not only with you on free time, but that he's walking into your house. Placing the clutch and keys on the table you turn to face him, nervous to look him in the eyes. "Well...this is home. No fancy clearance to get in here." You laugh, nervously. He smiles, looking around. "It's..." Strange? Weird? We have horrible taste in home décor? Cluttered compared to his strangely hygienic apartment? You didn't even realize you were holding your breath waiting for his answer. "Nice. Warm.." Warm? Like it's hot in here? Or has a pleasant atmosphere?

Clearing your throat, you intertwine your hands in front of you. "Make yourself at home. I just need like, fifteen minutes. Nothings off limits!" You smile but quickly scurry into the bathroom. Closing the door behind you, taking deep breaths with your back pressed against it. Why are you so nervous? Determined, you walk to the sink and look in the mirror. That's when you realized what you've actually looked like this entire morning. Smudged make up, tangled hair, eyes still puffy from the crying just few hours prior. Staring at yourself, your jaw drops. The pure mess that stood before you. I've looked like this all morning? Stubbornly, you make a commitment to not make this your look.

After taking a record breaking fast shower, which included washing your face and hair, you run out to quickly get dressed. Since you don't have as much time as you would like, you settle for a pair of light high waisted jeans with an off the shoulder dusty rose floral shirt. You're slipping into white flats in front of the mirror where your fluffing you long, damp wet hair; Praying that the humidity gods will have mercy on you since there isn't much time. Mascara and lipstick is what you settle for when suddenly you hear voices. Voices? As in multiple?! Fuck.

You quickly open the door to find, not only Bucky, but your parents sitting on opposite sofas having a conversation. Everyone turns to look at you standing there awkwardly. "Hey..." You say nervously. Bucky stands up immediately, always the gentleman. "Hi, honey!" Mom says cheerfully from the couch. "We were just talking with your friend, James." She smiles brightly. "Apparently he knew Grandpa! They escaped Germany together during World War II! What a coincidence!" Bucky gives a half cocked smile in agreement.

Dad doesn't say anything, he just sits and continues to observe the room. More like supervising Bucky. "Wow, I had no idea." You say, bewildered.

"I saw your fathers display of awards and such. We just struck up a conversation about his time in the military." He says, well mannered.

"Yeah, it's definitely interesting." Dad finally speaks. Your attention unintentionally looks at Dads decorated wall. Awards, ribbons, pins, patches, pictures, and a flag. Luke's flag. You exchange a look with your father, the warning look.

"Well..." You start, trying to change the subject. "We were just going to grab some coffee. I'll be back later." You say pleasantly, trying to break the tension in the room. Mom and dad stand up, walking over to hug you goodbye. Dad leans in close, close enough to whisper something only you are meant to hear. Although, Bucky can probably hear it anyway. "Be careful." He says cautiously. Pulling back, he grips both of your shoulders and looks into your eyes. Mom walks over to Bucky, "It was nice meeting you, James! I hope we see you again soon." She says, charming as always. "Thank you." Bucky says with a smile. He takes a few steps forward towards your father, extending his gloved right hand. "Sir." He says respectfully. Dad hesitates for a moment but reluctantly reaches his hand out, shaking his hand sternly. "James."

"Bye, guys! Love you!" It comes out just a little too quick. Walking towards the door you hear Bucky's footsteps behind you. A sigh of relief escapes from your mouth once you're outside. Being too afraid to make eye contact, you stare at the ground walking back to the car. Getting in, putting the seatbelt on, and sitting in silence. Bucky does the same.

"I'm sorry about that..." You murmur, still staring down at the floor.

"Hey..." He starts. "It's okay. I'm used to that sort of response from people by now." Bucky says, trying to make you feel better, but there was a sorrowful undertone in his voice. He's trying to comfort me? Maybe he should have my job instead. Aside from The Compound, I've never seen any sort of interaction between Bucky and other people. Is this why he never goes out unless it's for a mission? But why here? Why now?

"Well, I'm not most people." You respond, looking over your shoulder slightly at him. "You can't scare me off that easily." He gives a small smile in return, but searching your face at the same time. He's looking to see if there is any untruth in what you're saying. There's been multiple promises made to Bucky that were never kept.

Bucky is sitting across the small cafe table from you with furrowed brows, looking at your drink. “That doesn’t look like coffee.” He says observantly. You let out a small laugh in return. “It’s called a latte. Coffee has come a long way from just adding milk and sugar.” Gesturing towards his generic drink. “It’s okay. It’s what I would expect my grandfather to drink.” You add, snickering. His eyes widen in surprise.

“Wow! So that’s how it’s going to be? This generation has no respect for its elders.” Together you laugh. It’s clear that he hasn’t had much interaction with the outside world. His life had been revolved around Hydra, reconstructing his mind, and making amends to right the wrongs that he had done. Aside from Natasha, Bucky hasn’t had much experience with women. Especially ones that could be sarcastic and rambunctious.

“Is it weird?” You ask, curiously. “Hmm?” He asks questioningly in response as he drinks his coffee. “Well, for everyone else, our world and technology gradually changed over the decades. I would imagine it was a bit of a culture shock for you.” You say, sympathetically. Bucky cups both of his hands around the mug, thinking intensely as he as he watches the small amount of steam float upward from the hot beverage.

“The advancements are amazing to see. I never thought I would have seen as much as I have in my lifetime. But-“ He stops, choosing his words carefully. “I grew up with values that seem to have gotten lost with time.”

“Like women only belong barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen?” You challenge.

“No.” Bucky says sternly and very visibly annoyed. “I believe everyone should have the free will to choose what they want out of life.” He says with a bite of truthful experience. “As I was saying…” He shoots a dominant stare that says 'Don't interrupt me again.' "Growing up, family was the center of everything. It was an honor to start a new life and create a household of your own. But-" Bucky shakes his head disapprovingly. "Family and marriage doesn't seem to be sacred anymore. It's just something I always thought I would have one day and..." He looks down at the coffee, eyes filled with remorse. "And I never will."

"Never say never, Bucky." You reach across the table with your right hand to touch his, but he quickly pulls back. "Please..." He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. "You can't trust me. I don't even trust myself." Leaning in, he says softly. "I don't want to hurt you."

He really hasn't learned to have confidence in himself. We can work on that. Bringing your hands down into your lap, you nod empathetically. "I understand. " Nodding in agreement. The air suddenly felt as though it became heavy, making it difficult to breathe. You two finish your coffee in mostly silence except for the pleasant exchanges about the weather, the cute dog walking passed the café with it's owner, and of course, the mundane question of, 'So, how are you liking the new job?'.

You both politely say 'thank you' to the workers on your way out of the café. Bucky making sure he's at least two steps ahead to open and hold the door for you. "Thanks." You say, timidly. He opens his mouth to respond when something behind him catches your attention. You grin and eyes go wide. "We put it out into the universe, and it answered!"

Confused, Bucky turns around to see what you're talking about. A record store. You ballet sashay to the next building down, twirling around to face Bucky again. "Come on!!" You wave your hands for him to follow. He hesitantly obliges, standing with you in front of the store.

"I don't know..." Bucky says unsure as he looks through the window.

"Pleeease?" You look up at him with pouty lips and begging eyes.

"Fine." He says, giving in. You jump and down in excitement.

"But it's because I want to! Not because of the puppy dog eyes. "He smiles as you skip into the store.

You go your separate ways, you with a mission to find the important music that everyone should know, and him to look busy to amuse you. Picking through records of each genre, you look up every once in a while to see Bucky staring.

"Has anyone ever told you that you have a staring problem?" You ask playfully. He smiles, "Eh. Maybe once or twice." You both let out a small laugh.

"Ok so...Here's what I've picked." You say as you hand a stack of vinyl records to Bucky. He starts thumbing through each one, "Queen, The Beatles, Metallica, Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones, Marvin Gaye...These sound intense." He let's out a nervous laugh.

"We'll start with these. I'm guessing you might like more classic rock but I guess we will see!"

Bucky drops you back off at home to get the interrogation questions from your parents.

"What are you thinking?!" Dad says frustrated.

"What do you mean?"

"Not only is the Winter Soldier your case, but you two are friends going out for coffee?!"

"Dad I-...I don't see what's wrong here?" You say, but know deep down what he's about to say next.

"What's wrong here is that my daughter is spending all day, everyday, with the most deadliest assassin in history!"

You take a deep breath, knowing that this conversation would happen eventually. "Dad, I-...I want to help him."

Mom is standing off to the side, fingers up to her mouth swaying gently back and forth restlessly. "Honey, she's not doing anything wrong here-"

He cuts her off. "It does not matter!" He shouts back. "We've already lost one child to war, I refuse to lose another one to some super solider who may lose his temper!"

"Dad, It-It's not like that. I'm being safe, cautious. There are many protocols at The Compound to ensure safety!"

"But they don't extend to outside of The Compound." Dad sighs, trying to calm down. "I just don't want anything to happen to you." He takes a deeper breath this time. "I saw the way you look at him..."

"What?" You respond, shocked and wide eyed.

"Honey,...he's right." Mom chimes in. "Even if you don't realize it yet, you have a soft spot for James."

"I'm not doing this." You throw your hands up and storm into your room, shutting the door just a little too hard behind you. Letting out a deep breath through your teeth, you hear a faint *Ding* from your phone.

It's lit up on the bed with a text notification.

Bucky: You were right. Thanks for today, Y/N.

Seeing his name on your phone makes your heart skip a beat. And this is the moment that you realize that your parents are right.

Next part

[evolutionsvoid]

Before I had even started this trip, I already had the worry of getting lost. Driving for hours on end through places I had never even heard of, it seemed inevitable. Despite that, I had no other choice but to go. What life I had here was gone, and staying would only have me stewing in the rotten memories and people that plagued me. Though this opportunity was a weak one, it was my only shot out of here. So I packed up my meager things and drove off into the unknown. Best to take my chances out there, then remain in this prison a minute longer. My anxiety born from this journey drove me to prepare for every possible scenario. The biggest worry was getting lost on the way there, but with a mountain of maps, a GPS and a folder of addresses, numbers and contacts, I figured I would be safe. After all, once you get into the barren countryside of flat fields and endless dirt, all you had to do was pick a road in the right direction and drive. I needed to go west, so that was what I did. I drove on for hours, but it felt like I had hardly moved. What a strange feeling it was, to travel hundreds of miles and see absolutely nothing. This trip was supposed to be a transformation, a needed change for me to finally regain control of my life. Yet, I felt no joy or wonder. I guess I was expecting to encounter breathtaking landmarks and travel through strange new places, evidence that the world was bigger than my ignorant little hometown. Instead, I drove through a flattened world of grass, corn, dirt and the occasional pathetic tree. Not exactly the scenery that inspires awe. This repetitive land was probably the reason why things turned out this way, as it was impossible to get a bearing when everything looked the same. Hours had passed since I turned onto that empty road, and yet I failed to notice that things were not right. I ignored the fact that I hadn't seen a single street sign the entire time, or that there were no forks or splits to be found. To be fair, it was long into the night, so most of the blank landscape was smothered by the darkness. I just held onto the idea that I was almost to the next town, if you could all any of these places that. What little civilization I had seen was a sad collection of wore down store fronts, crumbling bars and ancient gas stations. They sat in clumps along these forgotten roads, sharing much with the greasy roadkill that was spattered on the asphalt. Pathetic as these places were, I still yearned for them as I drove down that endless road. Surely one had to be nearby, I just needed to go a few more miles. I followed this delusion for quite some time, pretending that the lack of signs or markers wasn't something to be concerned about. Eventually, I just had to give up. With the clock on my dash showing some obscenely late time, I knew I needed to pull over to collect my thoughts. Looking over my supplies, I found my GPS worthless and the maps just as useless. With no service or any indicators that could help me pinpoint my position, these intricate foldouts might has well have been blank. It was then that I realized that I wasn't lost, as it felt like it was something far worse. When one is stranded in a place they don't know, one of the biggest issues is the overwhelming amount of options. Be it the woods or some unknown city, you are faced with many directions and choices, but you have no clue where any of them lead. Do I go north or south? Do I take the parkway or the back roads? Which exit on the roundabout gets me going the right way? With all this, it is obvious why clueless people wind up going in circles. That was what I considered being "lost" was. This, was something quite different. I didn't have a ludicrous amount of options, rather, I only had two. Go forward or back. The problem was that both choices felt wrong. The path forward had no hope or potential, no signs that suggested anything was to be found up ahead. That choice led to an unknown future, but it seemed more enticing than turning back. Though I didn't know what lay ahead, I did know what was behind me: absolutely nothing. Turning around would mean driving a countless amount of hours until found out where civilization had stopped, but I had no clue where or when that was. I would just be retracing my steps through a known wasteland, losing both time and gas. In the end, the unknown path ahead seemed more comforting. Surely I was bound to run into something eventually, even if it was a rusty road sign or some hermit's shack. Though my mind was made up, I chose not to continue just yet. I was drained of all energy, and I knew it was a poor choice to drive in such condition. It was the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere, so what harm was there to grabbing a quick nap? Perhaps sleeping until the sun returned was a good choice. Daylight could reveal clues about my whereabouts, ones that were currently blotted out by the dark. A rested mind would also work way better, and it would probably solve this problem in a second. So I made sure my car was properly off the road before I turned it off. I locked the doors and leaned my seat back as far as I could. It wasn't long after I closed my eyes that my exhausted body finally received some reprieve.   I awoke awkwardly, as if some unremembered dream or nightmare had snapped me from my slumber. It was still night, though I didn't know how much time had passed. I looked at my phone, but my groggy mind couldn't interpret the numbers it showed. I tried to stretch my limbs in the cramped space, but it gave very little relief. My drowsy state made me think that I had only dozed off for a few minutes, as I sure didn't feel any better. Perhaps this cluttered, stuffy car wasn't the best place to get some beauty rest. I figured I would try to go back to sleep, as my options at the moment seemed just as bad as before. As I wriggled around in an attempt to get comfortable, my eyes looked out into the night and saw it. It was funny how strange it seemed at that moment, though I knew fully well what it was. The slow flash of a yellow light, a sight I was quite familiar with, but my tired brain struggled to understand it. I leaned forward for a better look, but it didn't help in the slightest. With my car turned off, the world was pitch black, save for the errant star and that pulsing light. It sat way off in the distance, but there was no mistaking what it was. It took me a second to understand that this was a good sign. A human construct like this suggested civilization, and also a cross road. Perhaps up ahead was where I could find some identifying signs or directions to a nearby town. With sluggish joy, I went to turn on my car and pursue this miracle, but then the thought struck me from out of the blue. How come I didn't see this before? Sure, I was tired and disoriented at the time, but a bright yellow light blinking in a dark void seemed impossible to ignore. I had sat in this spot for a good while before I had decided to get some rest, so how come I didn't see it then? As I struggled to properly answer this question, I looked to the light and noticed something odd. Looking at it now, after a few minutes of gathering myself, it seemed to be bigger. It flashed brighter and larger than before, but perhaps it was just my imagination. I sat there for a moment and soon confirmed that this was no illusion. The light seemed to be getting closer to me. I looked to my dashboard, thinking I had accidentally put the car in neutral and I was slowly rolling forward. The little arrow pointed firmly on the P, so that couldn't be the answer. When I looked back up, the light was nearly blinding. It also seemed to bob and sway about, as if blown about by a weak breeze. The realization that it was the one moving froze me in my seat. I had no clue what it was or what was happening, so panic took over and short-circuited my body. A turned into a statue in the front seat and only stared with wide, terrified eyes. I did nothing but watch as the light bobbed closer, until it was at last upon me. At first I believed it to be heading right towards me, but in those few horrified moments, I saw it walking upon the very road I had traveled. It strolled down the middle, treading upon the cracked asphalt and faded lines. When the light came perpendicular to the front of me car, I at last could see what it was. I recognized the three colored traffic light that hung over every nearly every road, but the rest of it refused to be understood. I saw a metallic skeleton, built of rebar and steel. It bent and twisted into a bizarre lattice, creating limbs and body from an iron spider's web.  It walked upon four legs, and the blinding light hung from a long, arching neck. Something black and wet hung in clumps from its body, creating a sticky cloak over its wiry bones. As I sat frozen in terror, the metallic beast strolled down the road. It walked with slow tired steps, its blinking head hung low. Though it was clearly no creature of flesh, it made me thinking of an exhausted horse, weary from a long day's work. It didn't approach my car, it just kept walking by. It was only when it was passing my driver window that it paused. It stopped in its march and slowly turned its pulsing head towards my vehicle. I could not tell if it was looking at the car or me, but I clearly caught its attention. It gazed at me with a single yellow eye. Above and below sat the green and red, but they remained dark and cracked, like eyes that had long gone blind. It made no move, it just sat there for a moment to watch. After a few seconds, it sadly lifted its legs and continued on its march. The bobbing light continued down that endless road, the blinking growing weaker as it went deeper into the night. I sat there until that yellow light grew small in my mirror, becoming just another star in the darkened sky. I didn't know what to do, or even think about it. Though it showed no aggression, I dared not turn around and pursue it. Instead, I simply turned the car on and pulled back onto the road. I gave up on any thought or reasoning, my mind refused to accept what I had seen. I just got into that dusty old lane and began to drive onwards... -------------------------------------------- “Caution” A design I came up with a way back, which fittingly enough was around the time I went on my roadtrip. I think it came to be through a mashup of traffic signs and weird art sculptures.

[whump-a-la-mode]

Static and Sneezes

This is somewhat inspired by the fact that I spent last weekend laying around with an awful cold. Now that I’m well enough again to write, I figured I’d turn it into some good sickfic whump.

Hope you enjoy!

CW//Superhero whump, villain whumpee, sickness, respiratory disease, vomit (minor), mentions of past injury

Hero couldn’t help but grit their teeth against the noise. It was less like an audible thing; it was audible in the same way that electricity was. It wasn’t a noise, per se, but the movement of particles through the air assaulted the ears in its own way.

The sensation penetrated even all the way across the street, in their van. The dashboard lights were all that punctured the overwhelming darkness of the city streets, aside from the scattered streetlights, which the vehicle deliberately avoided as it screeched to a halt.

With a click and the groaning of a tired engine, Hero took the key from the ignition. Before the chassis had even settled against the axles, the driver’s side door was thrown open, then closed just as quickly, as a shadowed figure emerged from it and tore across the street.

The noise got horribly loud, the closer they got the worse it became. In tandem, the closer they got, the larger the building before them seemed to become. It spiraled into the air, a corrugation of steel and blue glass and well-hidden rivets.

A nearby streetlight sparkled against the heap of broken glass that had once been the front door. Villain was bold, they noted with a grunt.

As if synced to their thoughts (which it very well could have been, given the technology Agency flaunted about), a voice flashed in their earpiece:

“It’s looking like Villain is moving up to the third floor, now.” Handler spoke.

“What are they doing?” They tried to whisper, but regardless, their voice still seemed to echo in the silent street.

“No idea. The cameras are no good, the static knocks them out.”

“Then... how do you know where they are?”

Hero could almost hear the eye roll on the other end of the line.

“Wherever the cameras aren’t working, that’s where they are.“ The tone seemed to turn to one of concern. “When you go up there, you’re going to be cut off. Anywhere near Villain is a communication dead zone. Are you sure you’re okay with this? We can still send in a team...”

“No. Don’t send anyone.” Hero shook their head. “If we make too much noise, we’ll scare them off. We’re too close. I’m not losing this.”

“Are you sure?”

“I...” Hero bit their lip.

They didn’t even know Villain, not even their name. Not their real one, anyways. Nothing other than the codename Agency had filed them under. They weren’t like other villains. Sure, they were cocky and annoying and overall a danger to society, but they were different. Clever. They had no care for notoriety. They didn’t want the world to fear them or know their name.

More than that, they were careful. They never fought back. They were never there to fight back. By the time Agency made it to the scene, they would leave little more than a residual hum and a shattered window. Few had ever seen them. Fewer had heard their voice.

The thought made Hero bite their tongue. They weren’t going to let them keep getting away with this. They had hurt too many agents. Stolen so much. Caused so much damage. And no one even knew their name.

It ended tonight. The building, a Research and Development institute for a technology company, was built like a maze, and it was one that Villain wouldn’t be get out of this time. Not again.

Tonight was Hero’s big break. Tonight, they would win back their respect. Their reputation. Their confidence. Everything their injury had taken from them.

Finally, finally, they were going to be a hero again.

Without another moment of hesitation, they hurried towards the building. Their boots made the broken glass a trivial issue, and soon, they were in the building. 

From the lobby, hallways swirled and spiraled about like the tentacles of a great beast. But that was not their concern. For a moment, they considered using the elevator, before remembering that elevators, too, would be knocked out by Villain’s powers.

They curled their fists in annoyance, shrugged off their overcoat, and unfolded their wings.

The feathered limbs were beautiful things. Everyone seemed obsessed with saying so, from teammates to trainees to doctors. They had the coloring of a hawk (’a Black Chested Buzzard Eagle’ an overly chipper biology student had stated once), but stretched to a length of around twelve feet.

Oftentimes, Hero found themself wishing that their feathers were of a darker hue. They’d even considered dying them to be so. That way, the metal braces strapped to them wouldn’t be quite so obvious.

Still, in the dark of the building, no one would know. They moved to the stairwell, made a few light flaps, and launched upwards.

Generally, their wings were wonderfully silent things, hardly making the slightest sound as they beat against the air. However, with the metal pieces attached, they made a horrible grinding sound of metal on metal on feather.

It only took a few powerful flaps to carry them to the third floor, and they landed as quietly as they could on the steps. For a moment, they stood there, taking a deep breath.

“I’m going in.” They whispered into their earpiece. On the other end, they heard nothing more than a resigned hum.

Hero threw open the door.

The static burst unto them as if it were a physical thing, filling their ears and threatening to creep into the edges of their vision. They blinked a few times, gritting their teeth against the horrible noise. The stupid hum had knocked out the lights, but enough moonlight crept through the windows so that some things could be made out.

They spotted them.

Hero wasn’t sure what they’d expected. The description in the files was basic. Young, short, wears street clothes. And, all those descriptors were certainly correct.

But none of them described the sheer shock present on the thief’s face. For a moment, the shock turned to fear, then fear to fury. They stepped back, as if steadying themself, as a swirling form of static grew around one hand. It appeared almost like the static on a television screen when turned to the wrong channel, but in physical form and morphed into a three dimensional object.

Hero had no idea what would happen if they got hit with that thing, but they weren’t exactly keen to find out.

“Villain.” They spoke the criminal’s codename in the deepest, most official voice they could manage. “You are under arrest. Place your hands behind your head and-”

It was difficult to describe how static, in physical form, moved through the air. It was almost like a swarm of insects, all joined in purpose and being. Of course, Hero’s instincts didn’t care about that. Before they had even realized what was coming towards them, they had dove out of the way, crashing into the tile floor.

“Why won’t you jerks just leave me alone!”

The reaction was fierce, seemingly built up after a considerable amount of rage had simmered for a considerable amount of time. Or maybe it would fear? It looked...it felt a little too much like fear.

“I don’t want to hurt you!” Hero growled, scrambling to their feet. “But if you attack me, I’ll have to resort to it.”

“Just stop! Leave me-”

Villain seemed to cut themself off. Hero was unsure, for a moment, as to why, until they heard the fit of coughing break through the sea of static. They stumbled, as if the coughing had thrown off their balance completely. When the hacking was at last finished, they gasped for breath, in a way that sounded almost like they were gurgling.

“Leave me alone.” They finished, straightening themself.

In the time that the coughing fit had allotted them, Hero had taken a flashlight from their belt-- specifically an older model, one that had no need of radio or internet or anything of the like. They held it up, shining it on Villain’s face. They recoiled at the light.

“What are you doing here?” Hero intended for their voice to sound threatening, or at least official, but it came out with far more concern than malice.

The flashlight’s beam illuminated Villain’s face, even as they attempted to block it with a hand. Their eye sockets had a hollow, sunken quality to them, only accentuated by the redness of the eyes themselves. The redness blossomed out to the rest of their face, all the way up to their ears. From their forehead, sweat bloomed and fell down their jaw in droves.

It was a horrible picture of disease.

“I could ask you the same question.” The coughing seemed to have done a number on their voice, as the words came out croaky and strained. They picked up something from the floor that they had seemingly dropped. “Now, if you would leave me the hell alone, I think it’d be great for the both of us.”

“No.” Hero shook their head, taking a step closer. Another ball of static formed on Villain’s hand, but it did not deter them. “You’re coming with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re going to the hospital, if I have to drag you there with my own two hands.”

Villain looked up at that, clutching their item close to their chest. They weren’t frightened, at least not in the immediate moment. Instead, they seemed incredibly confused.

“You’re sick. Have you seriously not noticed?”

“I don’t know what game you’re playing here, but I don’t have time for it. Move away from the door, and I’ll be on my way, kapish?”

Hero glanced to the door behind them. If Villain got to it, there was likely no stopping them from leaving the building entirely, and disappearing back to wherever they had come from.

“Not a chance.”

Villain’s lips curled in a way indicating that they were about to retort with another cocky remark, when another bout of coughing attacked them. This one brought them to their knees, forcing them to brace themself against the floor. Onto the tiles below, they spat up a horrid looking green liquid.

That was it. Hero clenched a fist, stalking over to the other side of the room and kneeling down beside the sickly villain (taking care not to touch whatever they had just coughed up.) As they recovered, they tried to fight, but were no match.

The click of cuffs sounded as Hero secured Villain’s wrists behind their back. With the leverage the cuffs gave them, Hero brought them to their feet-- though they did so gently.

With one hand, they kept hold of the cuffs, while with the other, they placed a palm upon Villain’s forehead. Even before they touched skin, they could feel the heat radiating off of them.

“You’re under arrest. But first, you’re going to the doctor.”

[fettsvette]

Heat

Boba Fett takes you on a faraway hunt that involves a prolonged journey through hyperspace. You’re horny as fuck, but your man is too preoccupied with running a tight ship to pay you any mind - until things get a little too desperate.

Pairing: Boba Fett x Reader Words: 3.0k Rating: Explicit Warnings: Edgeplay, teasing, rough penetration

Can be found on Archive of Our Own here.

Mando’a terminology

  ad’ika - little one

cyare - beloved

  mesh’la - beautiful

  -

  Another whine. 

  Another stomp of a boot. 

  Still no relief in sight. 

  You could be dying, and he wouldn’t even look at you. 

  “You need to settle down, ad’ika . I don’t have time for this right now.” Boba Fett warned sternly, his helmet just barely twitching to the side to regard you as you paced the cockpit, your footfalls having become increasingly louder and more obnoxious as time dragged on.

  The journey through hyperspace had lasted several hours already, and it was projected to go on for many more; and that’s if your flight plan continued on ahead of schedule. Why exactly Boba had felt the need to pursue a job all the way out in Wild Space, you had no idea. It was an average bounty, one that you frankly considered beneath his talents, but perhaps that was why he determined it had been safe enough to bring you along for the ride for once. Not that you really saw the point in your presence anyway; the thought of going on an adventure with your beau had thrilled you at first, thinking that the days would be filled with exploring strange, distant worlds together, the nights consisting of passionate lovemaking for hours on end. Instead, what you were getting was a whole lot of sitting around, staring out the viewport at the blue and white streaks of stars passing you by. The prospect of traveling at lightspeed had seemed exciting, but you truly hadn’t realized just how boring it actually was until you were stuck in the middle of it.

  Especially when the man you were on this sojourn with was much too preoccupied with fine-tuning every gadget and system aboard his prized transport, obsessively tracking the ship’s progress across the galaxy, rather than keeping his cyar’ika entertained.

  You couldn’t recall the amount of times your lover had told you to sit down, to be quiet, to climb up to your shared sleeping quarters behind the cockpit and take a nap to pass the time. He’d even threatened to lock you in one of the cages reserved for his hard merchandise down in the cargo hold until the Slave I reached its destination, but swiftly backpedaled when you expressed a little too much excitement at the idea. 

  You were desperate for Boba Fett’s touch, for his hand on your thigh, his lips on your neck, his thigh in between your knees, something - and he was purposefully ignoring you. No, he wasn’t just ignoring you… he was torturing you.

  It’d been days since Boba had touched you. He wasn’t even coming to bed with you, as far as you knew - when you’d retire for the night, he’d still be sitting in his pilot’s chair, motionless saved for his gloved hands running across the Slave I ’s dashboard, occasionally pressing a button or typing in some incomprehensible command. You’d wait up as long as your body allowed for the feeling of Boba sliding into the cot next to you, a well-muscled arm encircling your waist, his bare chest against your back, the outline of his thick cock pressed against your ass, but it never came. You’d arise hours later and descend the ladder to find him in the same spot you’d left him, or tinkering about down in the cargo hold, polishing one of his many blasters.

  The sight of him running a dirty, oiled cloth over the stock of the EE-3 model that had become his personal calling card, the blaster grease coating his rough hands, was enough to drive you wild, make you wish he was dragging the fabric back and forth between your legs instead. Hell, everything he did nowadays made you horny, from palming the thrusters in the cockpit upon exiting or entering lightspeed - ‘the only thruster he should be palming is this one right here,’ you found yourself thinking more often than not - to just seeing those large, powerful hands of his anywhere near the hard expanse of his thighs.

  You didn’t just feel aroused, or even simply sexually frustrated - you felt as if you were in heat , like some kind of debased animal left to rut against its master’s leg until it’s been kicked away. You wanted nothing more than to climb up on the console in front of the pilot’s seat and ruck your panties to the side, spreading your legs wide so he could see just how soaked you were for him, beg him to fuck you - or at the very least, bring you to some sort of release with a calloused finger or that deft tongue of his. You’d refrained from pleasuring yourself for the entirety of the trip so far solely so you’d be more than ready for him when he finally decided to claim you, but now you doubted if that time was ever coming. 

  “Boba, please. I’m suffering over here, and you’re just sitting there -” You began again in a high-pitched whine, not caring just how pathetic and needy you must sound. You could have begun weeping in frustration right then and there, had actually considered dropping to your knees in front of your lover, groveling at his boots for even just one touch. The ache between your legs was becoming more and more unbearable with the passing of each Standard Time Unit, to the point where sometimes you felt as if you were going to cum in your pants solely from walking around too much or positioning yourself in a chair a certain way, bringing yourself to a release from pent-up friction alone.

  But it was your accusation of Boba just sitting there that finally elicited a response, after days of being brushed off and outright ignored. His head jerked up with almost blinding speed, and he swiveled the pilot’s chair around to face you, his visor cocked to one side. His large hands gripped his knees tightly, his knuckles standing out sharply against the black leather of his gloves, his legs wide open. His cock was buried beneath several layers of the heavy black fabric that constituted his kama , but you swore you could still make out an impressive bulge nestled there in the lighting, and your mouth watered eagerly at the thought of him finally allowing you to take him in your mouth after so long, to feel his deliciously veiny member seated between your cunt lips.

  “I’m not ‘just sitting here .’ This ship is like an extension of myself. It’s as important to me as you are. I don’t expect you to understand that, but I need you to respect it. Hyperspace can be very unstable. Our coordinates and support systems need to be constantly monitored if we’re to spend this long a time at lightspeed, but now I see comprehending that is beyond your capabilities. Perhaps bringing you with me was a mistake, if you’re going to carry on like a selfish little brat for the remainder of our journey.” Boba retorted gruffly, shaking his head as if just speaking to you sickened him. His words felt like a slap across the face, and the corners of your eyes prickled harshly.

  You felt tears trickling silently down your cheeks, your face flushed hotly with the shame of not only being reprimanded by the man you loved, but the fact that despite his harshness towards you, you were fucking wet . You could feel the sticky warmth of your own arousal trickling out from between your inner lips and gathering in the cradle of your panties, soaking the thin fabric through. The fact that this man could berate you, insult you, and still you wanted nothing more than to throw yourself at him, beg his forgiveness, impale yourself on his girth over and over again until he filled you with his seed, was making you even hornier than you thought possible. Boba Fett had complete domination over every aspect of you, and it turned you on more than you could ever admit.

  “Boba… please . I’m sorry, I just… I need you so fucking bad.” You choked out, your voice nasally and piteous through your tears, your knees slightly buckling inwards in a half-assed attempt to stop the flow of wetness drooling out from your core. Boba gave a low hum and reclined back in his chair, his legs outspread even wider as he repositioned himself against the leather backing, seeming cruelly satisfied with the state he’d left you in.

  “Look at you. Are you actually weeping because you want my cock that badly?” Boba clucked his tongue disgustedly, but you could have sworn that he almost sounded in awe despite his tone. Your eyes flickered downwards when you noticed a slight movement of his hand, just in time to see him briefly squeeze at his obscured length, and you let out a throaty moan despite yourself. With a thinly veiled snort of amusement, Boba gestured in the general direction of your bowed, shaking legs, then raised his palm upwards, calling you forward with a quick movement of his fingers.

  “Take those off and get over here, girl.”

  You’d never shucked off your boots so fast in your life. You didn’t even bother untying the laces, hurriedly hopping from one foot to the next, pulling your feet from the restricting, clunky material in order to wiggle out of your pants and underwear as quickly as you could, panting and whining high in your throat in your excitement. You flung the garments off to the side, almost stumbling in your rush to get to Boba, and immediately reached out to grope for the seam of his trousers, beside yourself in your urge to free his heavy cock from its cloth prison. You were blocked by a firm, warm hand pressed flush against your chest, blunt fingers pressed into your breast and holding you back. Boba was chuckling at your need, a rumble that emanated from deep in his chest. The sound always went straight to your pussy whenever you heard it, so rough and sultry, and your clit throbbed.

  “Oh no , sweet thing. Don’t think your tears are going to get you exactly what you want. Like I said, I’m busy. If you’re that desperate to get some relief, you’ll have to work for it yourself. I’m not going to help you.” The sick glee in the bounty hunter’s voice was evident, and he aggressively patted his meaty thigh in order to show you exactly what he meant, when he’d offered to finally let you have what you desired. Boba made no move to get up or further adjust his stance, holding his palm open and again broadly gesturing to his outstretched leg, as if grandly offering you the best seat in the house in a Coruscanti opera. From the way your cunt was fluttering helplessly though, it may as well have been your throne .

  Shuffling forward and squatting daintily, you gingerly settled yourself onto the muscular sweep of Boba’s thigh beneath you, hissing sharply as the rough cloth pressed into the sensitive nub of your clit, wiggling the cradle of your pelvis back and forth experimentally to gauge what felt best. Boba gave no notice of your ministrations, he wasn’t even looking at you, and you glanced up to see that he had actually gone back to fiddling with the console of the Slave I as if you weren’t even there, as if your cunt juices weren’t currently soaking through the heavy fabric of his pants.

  And so you began to move.

  Gently at first, you writhed your pussy every which way in order to discover some semblance of balance, letting out pleased whimpers as your body gradually warmed to the sensation of your folds dragging along the black flight suit. Boba’s arms were outstretched on either side of you and you could hear him pressing buttons and occasionally typing in commands, completely ignoring the fact that you were currently rutting on his leg like an akk dog during mating season. His body betrayed his supposed indifference, though - with every thrust of your hips, your knee bumped his groin and you tellingly felt the generous erection sitting there, warm and heavy and hard. You attempted to reach out and grasp it, stroke him through his pants in time with the grinding of your cunt, but Boba batted your hand away as if you were a child being reprimanded for touching a hot nanowave stove.

  You continued to knead Boba’s thigh with your pussy, undulating your heat in stuttering figure-eight motions, a familiar tightness beginning to build in your lower belly, the scrape of the material against your swollen clit becoming overwhelming all too soon for your liking. Underneath your own needy whines as the sensation continued towards its crescendo, you could hear Boba groaning from somewhere deep in his chest despite his best efforts to ignore you and your lewd ministrations in his lap. 

  Your orgasm hit unexpectedly, triggered by an accidental bump of the edge of his thick leather belt to the hood of your clit, and you let out a guttural moan that sounded more animal than human. Days of pent-up release crested over you like the sand waves of Tatooine’s Dune Sea, over and over again, and your thighs trembled around Boba’s leg as your muscles clenched him. Your lover groaned appreciatively above you, one of the few signs he’d given to show that he was paying attention to your movements. You knew he could feel the flood of wetness from between your legs soaking into his flight suit, possibly through to his bare skin beneath, and that thought alone prompted another volley of spasms to your clit until you were utterly spent.

  Your breath came in harsh, almost painful pants, your legs shaking violently as you continued to hold yourself up, your bare toes biting into the durasteel floor of the Slave I beneath you. Boba sighed contentedly above you, the underside of his helmet nipping at the crown of your hair, one strong arm finally looped around your back, bracing you against his chest. You collapsed forward on the reassuring coolness of his breastplate, laying your sweaty cheek against the cold beskar as you shivered through the aftershocks of your orgasm. The relief you felt, after so long, was indescribable. You could have fallen asleep there in that moment, nude from the waist down, straddling Boba Fett’s thigh in the cockpit of his ship, drowsy on the rush of endorphins still flooding through your body. In your relaxed state, it took you a moment to realize that Boba had begun speaking, and you cracked an eye open as the gravity of his words hit you.

  “Kriff, you’re so wet, so beautiful for me. Are you ready, cyare?” He cooed sweetly, and before you could even question what you were ready for, Boba pushed you upwards slightly with his legs and his hold on you momentarily faltered, the sound of fabric being shuffled about filling the room. You then knew what he was up to and began hyperventilating in anticipation, wiggling your bottom as the Mandalorian worked himself into position beneath you.

  Boba pushed inside of you roughly, and you let out a choked scream, biting down on the swaths of black material circling his throat. Even though you had already cum, had been constantly horny for days, you still weren’t prepared for the sudden intrusion of Boba’s girth into your cunt, your walls spasming around him violently, the sensations too much for your overstimulated body to handle. Boba shushed you softly as you let out several overwhelmed sobs at the burning, stinging presence inside of you. You could feel the blunt head of him pressing against your cervix, an almost unbearable sharpness that you craved despite the discomfort. You knew you’d be able to feel him there for days after, and a pleasant shudder wracked your body.

  “Easy there, little one, easy . I’ve got you. Just stay still, mesh’la .” Boba attempted to shush you, patting your back and readjusting his hold on you as you squirmed and gasped in his arms, but you couldn’t stay still if you tried. You attempted to push your hips against his, get some semblance of a rhythm going, but Boba tsk ed, the light pressure he’d had on your waist becoming an iron grip, almost to the point of pain, and you stilled your movements, whining in protest.

  “Boba, please … I need to move …” You begged plaintively, tears once again springing to your eyes The laugh you received in response was almost sadistic in sound, and you moaned out of a raw mixture of pain and pleasure when Boba gave a slight roll of his hips, the head of his cock scraping your cervix. When he spoke, his tone was almost delightfully evil, and it made you shudder under his hold.

  “Oh no , sweet one. You’ve been such an annoyance to me for the entirety of our journey, and as I said before… I’m busy, and after the way you’ve behaved, I’m not going to let you get what you want that easily. Letting you get yourself off on my thigh was just a tease.” His gloved fingers lazily crawled over your exposed clit, and you hissed at the brief contact, before it was excruciatingly pulled away, Fett’s hand reaching back up to the Slave ’s console again.

  “You’re going to sit here on my cock until our next jump point, understand? Nice and quiet, now. If you try to push yourself down on me or wiggle around like a little brat, you’ll be banished to our sleeping quarters until we land, or until you learn to behave like someone your age. Is that clear, cyare?” His voice was sickly sweet, menacing, low and raspy in his throat. You could tell by that alone just how turned on he was, and his length twitched inside of you.

  Without waiting for a verbal answer, Boba gave another painfully slow roll of his hips, igniting that fire within your belly once more, and you groaned aloud in reply, burying your face in the dark cloth protecting his neck, choosing to ignore the dark chuckle. He could be so unfair, so karking cruel at times, but you always found yourself coming back for more… and you had a feeling he had no idea how much you were actually enjoying this.

  It was going to be a long trip.

[icefire149]

An Angel’s Vow

Chapter Ten - (Read on ao3 | Read from the beginning)

It didn't take long to get all the shopping bags in the house. With the heel of her boot, Claire held the front door open for Cas. She knew it was because of his angel powers, but she was still silently impressed by his carry-it-all-at-once-I'm-only-making-one-trip game.

Claire followed behind him with Jack in her arms. He was still deep asleep and his face was squished into her shoulder. His downy hair pressed against her neck. She kept a hand on his back while they went into the living room.

Cas unceremoniously dropped the bags in the center of the room. He turned and his eyes softened, falling on the sleeping nephilim. "I can put Jack to bed." He held his hands out.

Wordlessly, she passed Jack over, and watched Cas take a moment to study the baby’s sleeping face. A prickle of irritation made her want to snap, that she didn’t do anything to damage the kid, but she managed to keep it choked down. Cas murmured something to Jack’s temple, and then he left a soft kiss there. After that he promptly disappeared upstairs. A weird tight feeling circled through Claire’s chest. She suddenly felt very alone.

Trying to push that thought aside, Claire started poking through the bags until she found the one with school supplies. They somehow managed to fill an entire bag with pens, notebooks, post-it notes, and high-lighters. Now she had to find a place for it.

Claire brought that bag into the kitchen and stood there for a moment surveying the room. Eventually she decided to toss it onto the table. With a shrug, she figured the table would be where their hunter school would happen anyways.

When she circled back to the living room, Cas was already there and sorting the clothes. He glanced at her over his shoulder with furrowed eyebrows. “Did you take the notebooks? They’re not here.”

“I beat you to them. They’re in the kitchen,” she said pointing with her thumb over her shoulder.

Cas nodded, and went back to making two piles. The next bag he picked up made him pause. “Oh, this one’s yours.” He passed it over.

“Thanks,” Claire mumbled, biting the inside corner of her bottom lip. She rolled the plastic bag in her hands. Inside was the black bomber jacket with the blue stripe down the sleeves and the galaxy shirt Jack picked out. Some tiny part of her just couldn’t leave them behind.

Cas went back to sorting the clothes immediately. Sighing, Claire slowly made her way towards the staircase. She didn’t particularly want to help, but she did glance back at Cas again. The bottom step groaned under the weight of her foot. “Hey Cas?”

“Yes?” He looked up. The traffic-cone, orange sweater, that Claire dubbed an abomination, was in his hands.

“Where were you going to store your stuff upstairs: in the closet or the drawers? I don’t wanna get in the way while I’m borrowing the room.”

His gaze squished into an intense squint. “I hadn’t thought about that yet.” The corner of Claire’s mouth hooked into a small, amused smile. Cas continued, “I suppose though...that I should just repack everything into the bags again. Store them out of the way down here.”

“Why?” Claire’s eyebrows furrowed. “You have an entire bedroom.”

“Yes, but I gave it to you. I wouldn’t want to overstep.”

Her smile vanished. Claire crossed her arms. “I’m living out of a duffle bag and the backseat of my car. I’m not messing with the furniture in your room.”

Cas’ head turned to the side. “But you could unpack and use that space while you’re here.”

“Or you could put your shit away like a normal person, because it’s YOUR ROOM!”

Standing up straighter, Cas tossed the sweater aside on the couch. His stare never broke from Claire’s. “For all intents and purposes the room is yours. I already told you that I don’t need a bedroom.”

“And I thought you said that I was free to leave at any time!”

“You are. I don’t under-”

“NO. So I’m supposed to just pretend I don’t see the whole little family act?” Claire took her foot off the step. Her voice dripped with venom. “Is this whole ‘helping me be a better hunter’ thing just something to ease your conscious? You couldn’t run away from playing house this time….so why not try to make up for lost time?”

Claire shoved the plastic bag into Cas’ chest as hard as she could. Cas didn’t flinch. He didn’t speak either. The shine in his sad, blue eyes made her want to scream.

The next thing she was aware of, Claire was slamming her car door shut. Her hands trembled, and that pissed her off even more. Again and again, she slammed her hands into the steering wheel until her eyes were too blurry to see a damn thing.

-

Claire had no idea how much time had passed when she heard a light knock on the passenger side, front window, but the blanket of night was indicator enough that it had been a while. There was no point in looking, she knew who it was so instead she started wiping the remaining tears away with the palms of her hands.

The door creaked opened and Cas slid into the front seat. In with him came the wafting smell of hot food, and Claire’s stomach immediately growled. She finally turned to him, and Cas held a plate out to her in one hand and a covered container in the other.

She raised an eyebrow. “Did you bring me grilled cheese and…?”

“Creamy tomato soup.”

She took both, and got herself situated with the plate in her lap and the soup container in her hands. But  Claire stopped herself before digging in. She eyed the grilled cheese cautiously. Only one corner looked like it was auditioning to be a piece of charcoal. “Did...you cook? Like actually made this from scratch?”

“Yes.” He looked away, leaning his elbow on the door. “And the house is still standing.”

“Why did you cook when you know it’s a hazard?”

Cas sighed, and rolled his gaze back over to her. He held it for several moments before speaking. “Eat before your food gets cold. I can still remember how unpleasant that can be.”

Nodding, Claire started taking big mouthfuls of soup. They sat there like that in silence while she ate. Cas stared out the window lost in his own thoughts.

It wasn’t until Claire’s bites slowed down that Cas finally spoke. “I’m sorry.” Claire burst into a coughing fit. Her mouth had been full, and that was the last thing she was expecting from the angel.

He continued while eyeing her carefully. “I never meant to upset you. I’m in no way trying to force anything on you.” Cas turned away and leaned back in the chair. He stared at the ceiling above him.

“I know.” Claire’s voice was quiet. She put the empty soup container in the cup holder between the front seats and slid the crumb covered plate onto the dashboard. “Loo-”

“It surprised me….I surprised me..when I asked you to meet me out here. Giving away my secret location…”

“Why’d you do it then?” Claire ran her index finger across the side of the steering wheel. “You won’t even let the Winchesters near Jack.”

Cas shifted his whole body as much as he could in the front seat to face her. “I was scared when you said you were hunting alone. The feeling was overwhelming.”

“I’m not a child, Castiel.” Claire clenched her jaw. The embers of her anger were growing hotter again.

“I’m aware.” There was a low warning tone in his voice. “Don’t mistake or misshapen my fears. This isn’t about coddling you or...treating you like you’re incapable.” The tension eased in Claire’s jaw. He continued, “Those feelings mean…..your presence as well as your absence...they matter to me. You matter.”

Claire stared at him in disbelief. Her hands squirmed awkwardly in her lap. “So the teaching sessions…?”

“I haven’t lied. I want to help you, and I want to pass my knowledge along.” His head tilted just a bit. “Claire, I’ll never be able to repay you or...make anything right. I know that, but….this is something I can do. And selfishly...I’d like you to be the best.”

Claire’s lip twitched. “That’s...uh..a high bar.”

The corner of Cas’ mouth pulled into a small grin. “Honestly, I don’t think it is. Many hunters speak of Sam and Dean like they’re legendary. And….while I understand the reasons why….”

“They’re stumbling ass-backwards into everything,” Claire grinned.

“Unfortunately, yes.” Cas deadpanned. He shook his head. “The difference maker is knowledge and I have millennia of information.”

Claire’s gaze fell to her lap. She felt a myriad of emotions bouncing around her head. It made her chest feel tight. “So….this is about your guilty conscious.”

“No,” Cas frowned. “Um...uh, well, to a degree, yes. I’ll never forgive myself for the wrongs I’ve done, but my guilt isn’t why I care...or why I want to see you succeed at something that I hear you enjoy a lot.” That got Claire to glance back at him. “I see you as my friend and as my family. Just like Sam, and Jack, and Dean. And...things have been hectic since I last saw you. A part of me honestly called you here, because I missed you.”

“You did?” Her lip twitched.

He nodded. “Initially, I thought distance would be better. I didn’t think you’d want me around….” Cas glanced down at himself and sighed. “or to have to look at me.”

“Well that’s not the case,” Claire snapped. Cas looked at her startled. Her voice softened. “I thought I never wanted to see your face again….but then I’d hear through the grape vine that shit was going down...and I’d be waiting to hear from you.”

She crossed her arms and refused to look at Cas. “I figured that if Jody was on Sam and Dean’s goodbye list for the end then I was on yours, right? And then I’d get radio silence.” Claire paused. The pain in her voice didn’t hide well. “It sucks being disappointed all over again…”

“I’m so sorry. I-I…” Cas reached a hand out but stopped halfway between them. Looking away, he withdrew his hand. His next words tumbled out in a whisper. “Of course I would have called you….I wasn’t able to when things went….badly...I’m sorry. That’s a poor excuse.”

Claire rolled her gaze over to him. “Explain then.”

“Okay,” Cas nodded. “So...Dean was dealing with the mark of Cain.”

Claire raised an eyebrow. “That was a while ago.”

He sighed. “It was, but it’s where a lot of bad things started.”

“Okay. Continue.”

“It took a lot of effort to free him from the mark, and….he was resistant. Turns out he had good reason instinctually. Removing the mark also removed the bindings keeping the Darkness out of creation.”

“The Darkness? With a capital D…...Jody wasn’t kidding about that?” Claire stared at him incredulously.

“No, regrettably. Her name’s Amara, and….she’s God’s sister.”

“Yikes.”

Cas shook his head. “That doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

Claire turned in her seat, bending a leg and leaning her back into the door. “Sooo the mark broke and the Darkness was released. Nice going dumbass.”

“I know…...and it got worse.” Cas rolled his eyes. “The witch we had helping us with the spell-work, Rowena, she stole a very powerful book when the spell was complete and she….hit me with her magic.”

Claire sat up straighter. “Magic works on angels?”

“Yes, but luckily not perfectly,” he said very matter-of-fact. “She calls it her attack dog spell. And it makes the victim rabid until they drop dead with bloody eyes.”

“What….did it do to you?”

“I….I eventually broke through the rabid behavior, but I was still at the mercy of Rowena removing the spell completely. And she was persuaded to do so, but it did have lasting affects…” Cas wouldn’t meet Claire’s eye. He was carefully choosing his words. “The spell might have killed me in the long term, but it did dig deep into my being and shredded everything it touched. I’m grateful Sam and Dean were there for me during that time. The recovery was...longer than I would have liked.”

Claire nodded and ran a hand over her knee. “What happened with Amara?”

“Oh...yes. Amara.” Cas took a deep breath. “After that, Amara was the pressing issue. She took a personal interest in Dean as...he was the last bearer of the mark.”

“Gross.”

Rolling his eyes, Cas chose to ignore that. He continued, “We learned that it took Chuck….um, God – he likes to be called Chuck – and all the archangels to cage her away before.” Claire grimaced. “And there’s only two archangels left.”

“Okay, that’s a not so fun fact.”

“No. There’s nothing fun about that.” Cas shook his head. “And they’re both caged in Hell so….they weren’t exactly available.”

There was a quiet pause where Claire was still processing every bit of information Cas shared. She didn’t miss that he seemed to be growing uncomfortable. He was twitching and pulling at his coat sleeves. And then, it dawned on her. “You asshats freed the devil, didn’t you?”

Defensive, Cas argued, “We….I was trying to do what was best..for everyone.” Claire’s gaze narrowed. “Lucifer was our only option. We didn’t know where or who God was, and Sam was receiving visions as answers to his prayers. Sadly, we were being tricked.”

She nodded. “So, rip the band-aid off. How’d you do it?”

Cas frowned. “I….I couldn’t ask Sam to make that sacrifice again. Lucifer wanted to use him as a vessel again.”

“Again?” Claire coughed. Cas hummed in response. Claire continued, “We need to go back to that later. Keep going.”

“And Dean nee-the whole world needed Amara gone. To do that we needed Lucifer. So I said yes.”

Leaning forward, Claire dropped her face into her hands. “You let the devil walk around in my dad’s body. Your body.”

“I’m not infallible, Claire.”

“My dad would be spinning in his grave...if he had one.”

“Yeah….let’s not tell Jimmy about that. He would be rather upset.”

She lifted her head and stared at him oddly. “Last I checked Heaven doesn’t have cell service. How am I supposed to tell him anything?”

“That’s fair.” Cas shrugged. “These days I feel like anything is possible eventually. I’d like to be prepared.” Claire nodded. “Granted all you need is to send an angel with a note.”

Stunned, it took Claire a moment to speak. “If you weren’t hiding from Heaven...you could talk to my parents?”

“I could.” His voice came out softly. “If there’s anything you want me to pass along to them...let me know. One day I may be able to….or at the very least I might run into an angel I trust that could do that for you.”

Claire shifted her gaze so she was looking out the windshield instead. Quietly, she turned his words over and over again in her head. She was still processing when she gave him a small nod. After a few more minutes she was ready to push that information aside for a while. She turned back to Cas. “So if Lucifer was walking around in…..well, where were you?”

“Oh, um…” His gaze fell to his lap, guilty. “I agreed for him to possess me so...uh, I was right in here..as well. Only, he was in control and I had no way to overpower him.”

“You agreed to be trapped in your own mind?”

He still wouldn’t meet her eye. “Yes.” The silence stretched on long enough that Cas glanced up and saw that the last traces of Claire’s anger had cooled. She looked concerned, and between that and the guilt of his past mistakes, Castiel felt like his airway was being crushed.

“What….what happened next?”

“That’s where...it gets...uh, Dean...would call it fuzzy. I’m aware that he did pretend to be me, but that was short lived. He lost my car. He terrorized Heaven, and Hell. I’m told…..” Cas’ voice grew quieter. “-that Dean, Sam, and some of our tentative...allies..they put a lot of energy into reaching me so I could expel him.”

“Good,” Claire snapped. Cas’ looked at her quizzically. “What? I’d kick their asses if they didn’t fix your boneheaded dumbassery.”

His tone was sharp. “I did what I thought was necessary.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that it was stupid.”

“I know,” Cas barked. They both sat there in their frustration for a bit. “Eventually….Chuck came back and Amara tore Lucifer from me. Problem solved.”

Claire glared out the window. Her jaw was taut. “Don’t do that again.”

“I don’t intend to. It was vile.” Exasperated, Claire exhaled loudly. Cas continued, “Chuck and Amara came to an agreement and the world was fine again. Lucifer was free so I spent my time pursuing him.” He didn’t miss the shiver that Claire tried to hide. Softly, he added, “But there’s nothing to worry about anymore. He’s caged. He’s just a distant memory.”

They sat there in silence after that. Eyes closed, Claire leaned her head back against the glass of the window. “Thanks….for you know, telling me…”

“Thank you for...being understanding,” Cas said gently.

She opened her eyes. “Our lives are insane.”

“I’m sorry, I-”

“Don’t be.” Claire shook her head. “Things suck, but I’m glad I met Jody, and Alex, Sam and Dean.” Her eyes looked sad, but there was a soft smile fighting to stay on her face. “Jack...and you.”

Dumbfounded, Cas nodded. The emotions swelling in his chest felt inordinate. Her words meant more to him than he knew how to express.

“Whoa!” Claire flew forward, putting her hands on the dashboard and pressing her chest to the steering wheel. “Did you see that?”

Castiel tensed. “What?” He leaned forward, studying the view in front of them.

“The lights flickered. Like some kind of power surge.” She opened the car door. “Come on, let’s see what Jack did this time.”

Exhaling, Cas deflated in his seat for a moment. He knew what caused the electrical issue and it wasn’t Jack. Cas took another deep breath and composed himself. He swiftly got out of the car, taking the trash from dinner with him. Before Claire could open the house door, he paused, “Claire?”

She pivoted on her heels, turning around. “Yeah?”

Momentarily, he struggled to find the right words. He knew that he needed to get this out now. “All...um, all you need to do is ask.”

“What?” She looked at him like he grew several more heads.

“In the future...if you decide that you want me around more...or less. Just ask.”

Claire rolled her eyes, and pushed the front door open. “Yeah, yeah. I get it now.” Cas followed her into the house. She went to the staircase and paused on the bottom step again. Her eyes found his. “I’ll consider it when you start doing the same.” She went upstairs, leaving Cas confused in the living room.

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or removed): 

@nightandwine  @autumnapologist

[birdsaesthetic]

A Hell of a Day

Summary: Kurt is accused of being an abusive jackass to Jane? (I’m sorry but I had to write this one.) On fanfaction.

Jane was right behind Kurt as they chased the fleeing suspect, but with an unmatched urgency Jane caught up to the woman first, who managed to get in one good swipe with her knife before Kurt knocked it out of her hand reach. The suspect put up a fight with the two then, actually landing a punch right to Jane's left eye and knocking Kurt across the room before Jane finally pinned her to the ground and paralyzed her movements to end the fight there.

Some time later, after the suspect was handcuffed then taken to custody, Jane could still feel the sting of that woman's fierce punch to her eye, and the burning sensation there, and knew she was probably already developing what would be a quite impressive black eye. Goddamnit.

In the ambulance vehicle Kurt went, and found Jane sitting with an ice bag being pressed against the left side of her face. "Sorry for that," he murmured as he tucked the mess of her hair behind her ears.

She looked up at him with her non-swollen eye and put up a small, forced smile. "I'm okay. It barely hurts, I promise."

The tips of his fingers had trailed down her neck by now, and he said, "That's because of the 600 milligram tablet of Brufen they had you swallow."

"Well, then that's good!" She drew a deep breath and lifted her free hand atop his own. "Our date still stands, huh? We're still going to have that dinner at the French restaurant, right?"

"No. Another time," he sighed, and his heart felt as though being physically stung at saying that.

"Kurt…but we made a reservation this time!"

His blue eyes bore into hers, full of pity and fear and exhaustion, and love—always love. "Doesn't matter. Your injury is no joke. We're going home so you can rest."

"I said I'm okay! And I'm starving."

"I'll make you something to eat at home," he promised, his thumb brushing against the tender skin of her neck.

She put the ice bag aside, lowered her head, and blinked several times to lose the burning sensation and get the tears under control. After a moment she surfaced, a frown clung to her face. "You know, we've been saying 'another time' for the past two weeks."

"I know, Janie… We've been unfortunate. I'm sorry. But the headache will be tenfold worse if you don't rest. So, just let me help you out of here and take us home."

She said nothing when he secured a protective arm around her back and walked her the paces to their car then helped her get comfortable in the passenger seat. The first half of the drive home went quiet, save for the hisses Jane occasionally let out, at which Kurt's heart sank. In the second half, she was feeling completely numb, all over her body, and might as well have fallen unconscious if the bag of ice she'd been holding to her swollen eye hadn't agitated her when it started leaking drops of iced water all over her neck, chest, and jeans.

"I think that…I need another ice bag. This one is leaking," she said between gritted teeth, and Kurt immediately nodded, offered some reassurance by patting her on the upper thigh. "Alright. Alright. I'll get you that. Right now. Hold on."

He made a stop at the nearest drugstore, though before he hopped out of the car, he asked Jane, "Need anything else besides that?"

"No. No. Just that."

Only when she heard the door being slammed by Kurt did she let out a loud groan she'd be holding back, and threw the broken ice bag to the dashboard. The pain was getting worse by every passing second; it was the kind of pain that time seemed to stop. She steeled herself for a minute, two, three, and then thought, how am I supposed to keep up with this pain for the rest of this damn day? God. If she was to survive it, she'd need numerous ice bags to cover her whole face with them, and a package or two of Brufen—which she should've told Kurt to bring with him, but… She released another loud groan, and the urgency she felt afterward made her get out of the car and into the store Kurt was at to get everything she needed herself.

There, she stumbled across Kurt about to grip what seemed like a package of painkillers? And were these two or three bags of ice in his other hand? She couldn't quite tell, and so she went straight to him.

"Worraya doin' here? You okay, Jane?" he blurted, leaving whatever he was about to grip and gripping her arm instead. Oh, love. There were also bruises already forming right below the purple skin of her swollen eye.

"Did you need anything else?"

"Yeah. Just a… Some more Brufen, please, and lots of ice bags. Lots of them." She fumbled in her words, and Kurt regripped her even harder by the arm his knuckles turned white only so he could keep her still—because by now she was shaking, her eyes fluttering.

"K. K. I've got that for you. Now go back to the car. Can you go there by yourself?"

She nodded, and as he loosened his grip around her arm, Kurt noticed that there was a woman glaring at him so intensely with an apoplectic, contorted face. Though once he glared back, she pretended she was busy and walked the same way Jane had just passed by: to the gate.

Weller had never been this fast as he gripped the nearest two packages of Brufen, dealt with the cashier in three seconds, and jogged to the gate, where he saw the same damn woman speaking to Jane face-to-face.

"Ma'am, stay away from my wife!" Kurt shouted, willing himself for an ambush or something even worse at the scene before him, as common and mundane as it was. He stopped between Jane and the woman, who jerked back.

"What the hell do you want?" he said in a voice that spoke volumes about how heated he was.

"Kurt…," Jane tried to say.

"You're an asshole. A piece of garbage. I hope you die right here and now," the woman snapped at Kurt, and then pointed an index finger at Jane, who was shaken and in a total agony and could barely hold herself together, and said, "And you…you don't deserve this! I've been in your place once. I've been just like you. But thank God I got away, and you can, too." The woman was seconds away from bursting into tears. But then she hastened on her way without a glimpse back at them then was no longer seen.

"What the hell was that?" Jane asked with a puzzled look. He looked down at her and raised his brows in exhaustion. "Let's just get in the car."

Once back in the car and out of the parking lot, Jane blurted, "What just happened back there, Kurt?"

His eyes on the road, Kurt mumbled, "Well, that woman thought that I'm a jackass and abusive to you."

"What?" Her eyes widened. "That didn't even cross my mind!"

"Well…"

She took a new ice bag and pressed it against her swollen eye, then stared at Kurt with her fine eye for a full minute as he drove. "You're upset now?"

"I'm."

"Kurt, since when do we care what people think of us?"

"Since they start seeing me as that type of man. I never want to be seen as that type of man."

"We know the truth, Kurt. And so does everyone we care about. You are not that type of man. Are you hearing me?"

He only nodded.

"Everyone who knows you knows what kind of man you really are. And that's what matters. You're a good man, Kurt. A great husband. An incredible father."

"Thanks, love."

"I'm just saying facts here!" She tried a smile when she saw his faint smile. "And that woman, she was absurd."

"I feel deeply sorry for her. She must've really been traumatized by an abuser before. Hence why she seemed impulsive and hateful of me when she saw your injury, and couldn't interpret our case other than the way she did."

"If that's the case, then I'm deeply sorry for her too. And I'm sure, if she'd known what happened behind this black eye, how we literally saved Manhattan from blowing up today, and had to postpone our 'special date' because of all that, she'd would've been so, so sorry for us, too…"

Kurt sniggered then, and Jane fought between laughing and groaning.

"It's not like I wanted to postpone our special date earlier today, you know. We're still going. But not until you get better."

"Yeah, I know. And, I'll admit, my headache is getting the best of me at this point…"

"It'll get better, Janie."

"It better get better…"

Note: Let me know what you think of this :)

[beigehearts]

The Price of Self Respect

Read part one here! PART II CW: mutilation, gore, puke

 1,729 words

____________________________________________

He’s observing you, every inch of your body. He stared as if you were an art piece, but you begin to wonder what was the true meaning behind it. His grin disappears as if he realizes he’s showing too much emotion. “I never thought the creator would look like this. Though it’s never good to assume.” 

Somehow his comment struck a chord in you, and you aren’t someone to stay quiet. “I never thought the Spider’s Leader was a pretty boy, though it’s never good to assume.” You scoff and shake your head. His eyes widen though you aren’t bothering to look at the man anymore. “Wire me my money- I have better things to do than stay where my mission is finished.” You turn on your heel and click your way out of the room, and Chrollo didn’t try to stop you. 

Laying in bed at 7 pm, watching an oldy cheesy and romantic movie, you bite into a sour gummy worm. You snuggle deeper into the large, soft bed, sinking into it’s warmth and achieving nirvana. Maybe you should go to a bar. You haven’t gone out for a drink in a while, you try not to be intoxicated for a week before a mission. It could slow you down. Seeing as you have no missions, and assuming you won’t for quite a while, you might as well indulge yourself.

After putting on minimum makeup, and a comfortable but cute outfit, you call a cab to pick you up at the front of the hotel. You used the hotel phone of course, not your own to call a cab. Before you head down to the lobby, you quickly draw a thread ring on your finger. If any nen is use within five feet of you, it will snap. This was you don’t have to constantly exhaust yourself by using gyo constantly. 

You are shielded from the rain by the awning in front of the hotel, you hold your arms to your chest as a chill runs through you. It’s quite cold today, you’re surprised that it’s not snowing or sleeting. A yellow car pulls up to the curb and you rush into the back seat. 

“Hi, I’m headed to the Lotus Bar.” You say in a sweet voice, as you do to anyone providing you a service. 

The man in front of you seems cramped in this somewhat small car. He’s wearing a cabbie uniform besides the hat. His hair is in a high pony tail and his head is only a few centimeters away from the roof of the car. He nods towards you and mumbles, “Okay.” 

You try not to think much of it but the hunter in you tells you to worry. You know there are weird people in York New city, and your thread ring hasn’t broken so you should be fine. 

Five minutes into the car ride and you reach the highway, at this time the cabbie starts to make conversation. “You don’t look like you’re from around here.” 

You put on a fake smile even though he can’t see it, “Yes, I’m just visiting for a few days. On business.” 

He nods while keeping his eyes on the road, “What kind of business? Are you an auctioneer?”

“No no, I’m just here meeting some coworkers. It’s more of a business vacation than it is a business trip I should say.” Rain hits the windows as if trying to break through the glass and hit you. Car lights are blurred because of the heavy rain and you wonder if the cabbie would be able to see clearly enough out of the front window. 

The cabbie pulls over to the side of the highway and sighs.  “Is it raining too hard to see?” You ask innocently.

He turns in his seat towards you, he has a crooked nose, and deep deep eyes. His frown doesn’t falter when he says, “We’ve reached our destination.” 

The ring on your finger snaps.

He lunges at you, grabbing you by the throat and punching you impossibly hard in the gut. Your body begs to cough violently but the hand around your throat prevents you to. You punch him in his crooked nose and he loosens his grip on you. You contort your leg to kick him in the neck, and he goes flying into the dashboard. 

Blood splatters all over the car’s shitty leather seats when you cough so hard that you become worried your organs will be coming out next. You scramble for the car door and leap out head and hands first. Right as your hands feel the cold and wet road, he grabs your ankle. You glance back at him and his lips quirk upwards, “Nice try. “ The cabbie grabs your thigh and calf, with brute force there’s a loud crack. It takes a moment to register in your mind- but not long. You scream out in agony, and slide out of the car and onto the road once he lets go of you. You flip onto your back and see it, your leg is bent in a way that no leg should be bent. The sight of it causes bile to rise in your throat, and you turn over, everything that was in your stomach forcing itself out of your body. Once everything has left your stomach, you flop back down on your back and grit your teeth in pain.

The man steps out of the car, and picks you up, throwing you over his shoulder. Your foot digs into his rib cage, simply because it’s been forced into an unnatural position. You feel a buzzing coming from the man’s pocket and he grabs his phone and answers it, as if in no rush at all. 

“Nobunaga. What’s taking you so long?” 

You conjure your pencil and begin sketching in the air.

“I’m on my way.” 

It’s starting to come together. A ferocious creature.

“Chrollo told you to be here ten minutes ago. Did you sit down and have a damn drink with the girl?!” 

The incredibly large dog begins to form into a physical creature.

The man, Nobunaga, groans and growls into the phone, “I’ll be there soon.” He hands up and puts his phone back in his pocket.

Nobunaga stops and turns when he hears an eardrum shattering bark. His eyes widen but he’s not quick enough to stop the feral dog you’ve created. It sinks it’s fangs into the back of Nobunaga’s leg, and takes a chunk out of him. He screams in pain, collapsing, unable to stand at this point. Things begin to go black, the pain becoming too much for consciousness. You reach out for the dog and as it stretches to grab you gently, to run away with you, it whimpers loudly. It begins to dissipate into dust. Someone had attacked your dog with nen. Above you, standing in the ashes of your large pooch, is Chrollo. 

“Come on, let’s go y/n.” 

Your mind is fuzzy, sounds are nothing but unintelligible nonsense, and your sight has already gone. At least the pain would be gone for a while, if you woke up. 

Who knows how much time has passed, certainly not you. It’s quiet, deafeningly quiet. You peel your eyes open. which requires a lot of effort. Your body is fighting you to stay down but you sit up with much pain. Your stomach feels as if a wrecking ball has slammed into you. You pull the shirt that is not yours up and see a black and blue bruise blooming on your stomach with sprouts of yellow. Speaking of, who’s clothes are these? You look down at your legs, wearing sweatpants much to big for your frame. You feel down to your knee and wince, it seems to be back in place, and wrapped carefully with some kind of nen. 

A sigh escapes your lips and you take in your surroundings. It’s dark but your eyes have adjusted to it already. You lay on a makeshift bed, with a light sheet covering your bare feet. The floor is concrete but so are the walls. The room is maybe, 10ft by 7ft wide. The only light in this small, claustrophobic room comes from the moonlight through a hole in the ceiling. 

Your eyes wander towards the entrance of the room, a man sits on a wooden chair that looks incredibly uncomfortable. His eyes don’t even look up from his book when he says, “How are you feeling y/n?” 

“Well, my leg is broken and I’ve been kidnapped. So not bad.”

He closes his book and chuckles, then gently places his book on the floor next to him. “You put up quite a fight. It was wonderful to see you create something so beautifully.” Chrollo sits on the floor at the end of your makeshift floor bed. “It truly was delightful.” 

You look down at your hands in your lap, “How is Nobunaga?” 

“He’s okay, he’s been through worse.” 

“Whose clothes are these?” Suddenly you have many questions that you want answered.

“They’re mine.” He states. Though the statement surprises you, you could never imagine Chrollo wearing sweatpants and a white t shirt. 

“So what am I here for. Information? You gonna torture me? Go ahead, you guys already broke my leg.” You say as if he’s the one who broke your leg.

Chrollo stares at you in wonderment. “You have quite a lot of questions. I can’t blame you.” He looks up to the single light source and nods to himself. “I’ve been observing you for quite a while. 

Once the words reach your ears, a red tint covers your cheeks. How could you not have known he was watching you? How long has he been watching you? How much does he even know about you?!

“I’m a specialist as well. I’ll let you know what my nen ability is.” For some reason this makes your heart pound, do you want to know what his ability is? 

“I take other people’s abilities, so they can no longer use it, and I can use as many as I take. That’s why I tracked you down. Your ability is quite unique.” He looks at you with a genuine smile, “But then I began to like you too much to just take your ability. So instead I took you.”

[dracothedeatheatingcupcake-ao3]

Random IshiMondo Story Prompt Response

Hi guys!!! So! This!!! Uh… the short of it is that a few months ago, I got an ask about an AU where Taka (who in this AU is the son of a police chief) gets kidnapped by the Crazy Diamonds as a present for Mondo’s 21st birthday. Taka was taken a month before and has been beaten, bound, and starved, and is all around unhappy and in a bad place. He feels that he deserves it. When Mondo is presented with Taka, however, he gets freaked and goes to “interrogate” Taka and they talk, it’s cute, and all ends well.

When I first got the request, I was very uncertain if I could fulfill this request, since I’m not a big fan of torture fics and this was just… it had big torture feels to me. However, I got an idea for it and I posted about it. The person who originally sent me the ask asked to see my idea, and I began writing it out. I thought it would be short, just a quick detail of the idea, but… well. Y’all know me. I don’t know what the word “short” means. So… uh, here’s a 25k word write up of the idea. It’s not quite a fic, since there’s very little actual dialogue in quotes, but it goes entirely through the story, with details and things like that, so… I guess it’s kind of a fic in its own right??? I legit don’t know, ha. I just wrote it and I feel so bad for taking so long without replying to that anon. So, if you’re still here anon, this one’s for you! And if not, then I hope other people like it too. I made a few changes to the initial request that I mention in the story, such as it being Mondo’s 20th birthday, not his 21st, and Taka only being taken for a couple of days, not a month.

Anyway! I hope y’all enjoy! :-D I’m excited to finally post this! It was collecting dust in my notes for AGES before I got around to finishing it. And I like how it turned out! It’s not perfect, but it’s something. And it’s prolly the fluffiest thing I’ve written, which is ironic considering the prompt, ha.

(Also, the anon asked for the fic to not be super mature, so I censored Mondo's curses. I couldn't NOT have Mondo curse, but I could censor them. So that's why it's like that, ha.)

(Read more added to not completely break your dashboard, ha.)

~~~~~

The fic starts with Mondo’s POV. It’s late afternoon slash early evening the day of his birthday. Mondo is in a bit of a funk, since he is turning 20 (not 21, since in Japan the 21st birthday isn’t really anything special. 20, however, is super important as it is the day they come of age and are allowed to legally drink) and is now legally an adult, and yet he is still leading his gang. Many of the original members have left, including Michi, and many others are getting too old to really stay in a biker gang for too much longer, and he doesn’t quite know where he fits anymore. However, he doesn’t know what else he could do. He’s a biker, so it’s not like he has much of an education or job experience other than being a biker… not to mention that Daiya’s dying wish was for him to keep the gang together and running, and he’s not sure when it’s “okay” for him to stop doing that. It all is eating at him, and he is very anxious over the idea of his future. He’s drinking a bit but isn’t quite drunk. He knows his gang is planning a party for him in an hour, though, which he is looking forward to. His gang is the closest thing to a family he has, so he is glad they care enough about him to want to throw him a party. He also knows that they have a surprise for him, which they said would help cure him of his blues, which of course they’ve noticed since Mondo is the least subtle person outside of Taka.

Eventually Mondo gets a call from his gang to head to their main hideout, so he heads out on his motorcycle, kind of excited to see what they have in store for him.

~

The POV then switches to Taka. Taka is bound, blindfolded (bag over his head), and gagged in a small, cold, smelly room. He is dehydrated and is very hungry and has no idea what time it is. It gets revealed that Taka was jumped two days prior (not a month, since I just… could not do that to Taka, sorry. Also, I’m fairly certain Takaaki would move heaven and earth to find his missing son, so… yeah) and was beaten pretty badly as he was walking home. He has a broken nose, bruised, possibly broken ribs, a black eye, and a small cut along his throat (from when he was kidnapped and he tried to escape, so the gang put a knife under his throat). He also has rope burns on his wrists from where the rope has dug into them. All in all, not fun, but nothing permanent and nothing that won’t heal. He has a small mat to sleep on, which he is thankful for, but he doesn’t know much about what is in his room, since he can’t see it.

Taka had not gotten a good look at his assailants when he was taken, so he has no idea they are The Crazy Diamonds, or even that they are a motorcycle gang (I imagine they’d use a van when kidnapping someone? I don’t know, ha), and he figures it’s probably someone who objects to his grandfather and thinks that he probably deserves what is happening to him. He has hope that he will be let go, but part of him fears that he will not.

Taka’s thoughts get interrupted when some gangsters enter his small room, grabbing him and manhandling him. This is not unusual, since they have been allowing him to use the toilet every so often, so he’s not super confused at first. However, he gets concerned when they don’t take him out of the room and instead start stripping him. Taka gets super freaked out and tries to fight them off, but he’s so weak and beaten down that he barely budges them at all. They laugh at him and tell him that they’re just changing him out of his dirty clothes, since he’s hardly presentable as is. Taka reluctantly stops fighting— partially since he doesn’t like how disgusting he currently is, partially because he realizes how futile it is— and is a bit surprised to find they do exactly as they say. They don’t change his underwear, to his private relief, but they put him into some other outfit that is very different from his usual white suit and tie. It’s a soft t-shirt that dips low on his chest and a pair of tight jeans. It isn’t really comfortable, but it is better than being in his ruined suit, he guesses. The gangsters leave then, laughing and joking about the party, but Taka doesn’t understand what they mean. As Taka is left alone, he is again left to wonder if he’ll be allowed to leave soon. Or ever…

~

The POV switches back to Mondo. He is sitting in his hideout, drinking a beer, smirking as his gang tells stories about Mondo’s greatest achievements. It feels bittersweet to him, though, with the doubts and everything he’s been having. He tries to get into it, but he knows that the gang knows he’s not really feeling it. After a little while, the stories trail off and Mondo’s new second in command (a young upstart OC who Mondo has been personally training, kind of like how Daiya trained him) brings up the surprise they have for Mondo, the gang getting excited about it. Mondo finds his curiosity piqued and tells them to get on with it. Excited, a few gangsters leave to grab their ‘surprise,’ while Mondo stays behind, wondering about it.

~

Taka gets jolted out of a light doze when the door bursts open and the gang members burst in, grabbing him roughly. Taka goes along placidly, thinking they are probably taking him to the bathroom again, or something like that. However, he notices that they are taking him down a different path than they usually do, which makes his fear spike, wondering what they are going to do to him now. His ribs and other injuries are hurting a lot, but he does his best to not make a sound, not wanting to get hurt anymore.

Eventually he is led through a door and is assaulted by noise, loud voices jeering at him and boisterous laughter, which freaks him out even more. He begins to struggle then, unable to help it, but it is useless as the gangsters are so much stronger, especially with how weak Taka currently is. They just laugh at him and keep pulling him along.

Eventually they reach wherever it is they are taking him, as they throw him down onto the ground, his knees hitting the concrete harshly, jarring his ribs enough to make him let out his first noise of pain. It shames him, but he gets distracted when he hears a loud inhale of breath, followed by a loud and brash voice asking, “what the absolute f*ck is this sh*t?!”

This leads to a bit of stammering from the gangsters, one of them explaining that it’s supposed to be a present for him, but the person gets cut off by a dangerous sounding growl. The room goes silent, then, for a few moments. Then the same voice from earlier— the loud and brash one— demands they remove the bag over his head. Taka barely has a moment to comprehend what is going on before he is being assaulted by light, his eyes unable to handle it as he blinks, trying to get used to the abrupt change in light.

Once the spots in his vision clear, he is able to look ahead of him, where he had heard a quick inhale of breath a few moments before. He sees legs, dressed in loose black pants with white loafers on the person’s feet. He lifts his eyes a bit more and can make out a black leather duster with designs on it and a white tank top overtop a highly muscular chest. His eyes linger for a moment, before he looks up the rest of the way, eyes intent as they meet what Taka assumes must be the instigator of his capture, his heart racing with fear. And when his eyes meet wide lavender, the most beautiful color he has ever seen, well…

But such feelings are highly inappropriate and improper, given the circumstances, so he hastily pushes them away. For the most part…

Though he can’t escape the feeling that something about this man is oddly familiar to him...

~

Mondo looks down at the kid before him, his blood frozen and his mind completely blank. He can’t really comprehend what he is seeing. He knows that most members of his gang aren’t that bothered by violence, knows that he himself certainly isn’t, but something about seeing this young boy (whom he assumes can’t be older than 16, he looks so youthful even despite the dark bruises upon his face) so roughed up makes his insides squirm and anger rise within him. He does his best to curb it, though, knowing it would just make his gang doubt his ability to lead them if he gets uppity about things like this, but it’s hard. The boy’s face is so messed up he can’t quite tell who he is, but he has the niggling feeling that he is familiar, though he can’t quite put his finger on it.

Throughout his musing, Mondo has been staring at the boy, absently taking in his busted features. The boy’s eyes, however, hold his attention the most, though he tries to avoid them the best he can, hating how resigned and afraid they look. But he can’t quite help it, and when he looks back at the boy unbidden, he is shocked to see the kid looking directly at him, making him feel very strange inside. They continue to stare at one another for several long moments, until his second in command clears his throat awkwardly, forcing Mondo to look over at him, his anger rising again, though he fights against it. Again.

Mondo demands once more to know the meaning of this, and the second in command (SIC) explains quickly that it was a present, explaining that they had wanted to help Mondo feel ‘like himself again,’ so they had gotten him someone to help him remember what it’s like to be a big, bad, biker gang leader. The SIC pauses for a minute, clearly wanting to drive up the drama, before dramatically revealing that the boy is none other than Kiyotaka Ishimaru, the son of Chief Takaaki Ishimaru, the bothersome chief of police who has been on their tail for months now. The SIC explains hesitantly that Mondo had mentioned a couple weeks prior how he wanted to beat the punk up after seeing a picture of him and his father in the news, explaining that the gang had come up with the plan not long after, wanting to give their leader what he truly wanted.

It’s around then that Mondo realizes why the kid is so familiar looking, dread filling his stomach. He had come across a picture of the boy and his father in the paper a few weeks before, after the police chief had been given an honor or something for his bravery.

His eyes had lingered on the kid, though, tracing over his features in a way he knows means he was feeling interested. Mondo has known he was bi for years at that point, and though he rarely pursues men romantically or sexually, he has done it a couple times and he knows he definitely has interest in both men and women. His gang knows this and is fine with it, but it still sometimes embarrasses him to talk about it, especially when his eye is caught by someone who is decidedly not the type of person that a biker gang leader should ever look twice at, like that kid. So, when his gang had caught him staring at the picture for a bit too long, he had panicked and aggressively said that he was infuriated by the “goody-toe-shoe’s” pretentious look, saying he wanted nothing more than to beat the ever-loving sh*t out of the dude.

He hadn’t thought they’d actually do anything about it, though. He certainly hadn’t thought that they would, you know… kidnapthe dude. Who, he realizes, is actually older than he’d first thought, since he had recalled reading that the was home on break from university, the article saying he was 19. It makes him feel weird inside to think about, knowing that they aren’t that far off in age from one another.

However… however, as he sees the expectant looks on his gang’s faces, all of them expecting him to be happy about what they’ve done, he realizes that he’s kind of trapped. If he rejects their ‘gift’ and yells at them, then they will know he was lying when he said he wanted to beat up the kid. He also realizes that they’ve not really done anything against his rules. Well... kind of. Technically, given his position as son of the police chief, the boy is fair game for them to brutalize. After all, he’s not really an ‘innocent,’ now, is he? Mondo shouldn’t feel any problem about beating the kid, honestly, it’s not like he really knows him. And while he definitely doesn’twant to do that, for reasons he doesn’t understand, he knows that he probably should. The gang expects that he will and if he doesn’t... well.

So... he pushes down the vague nausea rising within him and forces a smirk on his face. He knows he isn’t the best liar, but he knows that the members of his gang aren’t exactly the smartest or most observant dudes, so he figures it’s fine. He then laughs and nods, saying how he recalls that now, thanking his gang for their thoughtfulness. He doesn’t (can’t) look at the kid as he says it, fearing what look he would have on his face.

Then... then Mondo asks if he could have some privacy to “talk with” the kid, smirking the whole while. Despite how he’s still not looking at him, he can see the kid shrink down in fear in the corner of his eye, making the twisting in his gut even worse. But he can’t stop, so he just keeps smirking as the gang cheers, happy that their ‘gift’ was well received.

Mondo has the same gangsters as before grab the boy and drag him to his private quarters at the hideout. They put the bag back on, to prevent him from being able to see their hideout, and while it makes Mondo distinctly uncomfortable— hating how it makes the boy thrash weakly, soft mewls of fear being released from his lips— he says nothing as he trails after them, fighting hard to keep the lazy smirk on his face. It’s hard, but he somehow manages.

As they all reach Mondo’s private quarters, Mondo has a moment to wonder what the f*ck is going to happen next.

~

Taka is terrified. Taka has been scared this entire time, but now the fear has reached its paramount, his heart racing so fast and angry in his chest. Something about the lavender eyed man has made him feel very afraid, especially once he realizes why, exactly, he knows him.

He is Mondo Owada, leader of the biggest biker gang in Japan, and he is definitely a man to be feared. He’s heard everything about him from his father, who has been very annoyed and angry at the biker gang for the vandalism and crime they get up to, and he knows that the man has a fearsome temper and a notorious desire for violence. And now he knows that he had been kidnapped by the gang to be a ‘present’ for their leader, which is a terrifying thought to Taka. He knows all about the kind of things cruel criminals will do to other people, having heard many horrific tales from his father. And while he does his best to not let his fear consume him, it’s hard not to. Especially considering how he is apparently being led to the leader’s private chambers, which he knows never means anything good. Best case, he will just be beaten harshly again. Worst case... well. Taka may be naïve, but even he isn’t thatnaïve. Unfortunately…

Eventually they come to a halt, though, and he hears the sound of a door opening. Taka somehow gets even more afraid, then, and begins thrashing again, more desperate than the last time, finally letting go of his pride enough to beg the gangsters to let him go. He can feel tears falling down his face, knows that his voice is wavering horribly, but he cannot stop it. He wants to go home. He misses his father, and his small room in his father’s run down but nicer than when he’d been a child apartment, and his nice clean suits, and... and all of it. He doesn’t know if he’s even intelligible or not, but he can do nothing to stop the words and the thrashing, even as his arms gets twisted painfully behind him.

Taka only stops when he hears a low growl before him, followed quickly by the feel of something brushing his side. He lets out a yelp of fear, terrified the leader will harm him, but... but the hand on his side doesn’t do anything other than rest there, softer than he expected, almost gentle. He can feel the tension in the hand, though, and something about it makes his heart race. From fear, of course...

The leader begins to talk then, warning him lowly to behave or things would get worse for him, and while it sounds angry and cruel on the surface, Taka... Taka can detect a hint of something else beneath the words. Something... worried. It confuses Taka, especially since he usually doesn’t pick up on things like that, but he decides to accept it at face value, too tried and weak to keep fighting anyway. With a defeated nod, he hunches his shoulders as he gets marched into the room without a word more, hating the snickers he hears sound behind him.

Taka gets thrown to the ground again, then, his knees really starting to hurt from the rough treatment, not to mention how awful his ribs feel. He doesn’t think his ribs are broken, but he can tell that they are at least badly bruised. And he knows worse is yet to come when he hears the leader tell his gang members to leave them alone and not hang around to listen, claiming he wants complete privacy. It makes him shake uncontrollably to hear, a soft keen escaping his lips without his consent. More snickers rise, but then he hears footsteps retreating from him, letting him know that at least there won’t be an audience for what is about to happen to him. He honestly doesn’t know if that is better or not.

The tears fall harder when he hears the door click shut, his body shaking with silent sobs. After a moment of silence, he hears more footsteps, these ones quieter than he would have expected, considering who he knows they belong to. He wants to start begging again, pleading that he just wants to go home, but his throat is so thick that he can’t seem to manage it. All he can do is cringe back to make himself as small as possible and hope to any god who is listening that he somehow makes it out of this somewhat intact. Please...

He flinches when he hears someone kneel down beside him, his breath growing shakier and more ragged, the tears streaming down his face uncomfortably under the bag that is still over his head. There is a beat of silence between them, and then-

“Hey. Uh... know y’ain’t got any reason ta believe me, but, uh... I ain’t gonna hurt ya, okay? Just... sh*t. F*ck... I’m gonna take the bag off yer head now, okay? Don’t f*ckin’ try an’ head butt me or anythin’... sh*t.”

The words are far softer than he had ever expected, causing some dissonance to rise within him as his expectation wars with reality. Part of him wants to believe the man before him, but... well. Taka is no fool.

Before he can try and rationalize anything, he feels the bag get tugged off his head, gentler this time than the last. He can feel his anxiety and fear spike when he feels cool air hit his face, but when he opens his eyes and looks ahead of him at the man before him, he feels his heart freeze when his eyes meet lavender.

He thinks about how they are still so incredibly beautiful, more so now that they are looking at him softly, concern and a simmering anger roiling within them. The anger makes him feel afraid, but part of him thinks that perhaps the anger isn’t directed at him. He knows the thought is foolish, but perhaps...

The man before him starts talking then, making a comment about how messed up his face looks. Taka flushes and looks away, feeling oddly ashamed, but he feels gentle fingers turn his face back, his eyes immediately landing on soft lavender again. He has no idea how to read the eyes before him, he’s never been good at reading other people’s emotions, but he... he doesn’t think it’s bad. Or... he hopes not...

After a beat of time, the man looks away, down towards his body. It makes him feel nervous again, but before it has a chance to turn into fear, the man is talking, saying that he’s going to cut the rope around his wrists, but that Taka has to promise him that he won’t try and fight him if he does. He says that he doesn’t want to hurt him, but that he can’t just let him cause a scene, and if Taka fights, he will be forced to fight back.

After a long moment of internal debate, Taka nods and promises that he won’t, his voice shaking and weak, but loud enough for the man to hear him. The man nods tersely, before reaching for a switch blade from his pocket, which makes Taka panic despite himself, his body automatically cringing away in fear. He doesn’t mean to, it’s just an automatic fight or flight response.

The man shushes him, his hands gentle on him again as he does his best to soothe. He then repeats that he isn’t going to harm him, he promises. He goes on and explains that it’s a man’s promise and that his brother always taught him that promises between men are the most important promises a man can make, and that you can’t ever break something like that. While Taka has no reason to believe the man, he... he is surprised to realize that he does. And so, he nods again, shifting into a seated position, angling his body to allow the man access to his wrists. He mutters an absent apology, to which the man snorts, replying that he gets it, don’t worry about it.

The man cuts the rope carefully, then, Taka super tense the entire time, waiting for the punchline and for the man to abruptly change temperament and start hurting him, laughing at his naivety for believing him. He is expecting this so much that when the man pulls back and puts his knife carefully away into his pocket, studying him closely, Taka doesn’t realize it for a few seconds. And when he does... he can’t help but blink, his eyebrows furrowing and his lips frowning.

Not liking the way that the man is staring at him— uncomfortable more for the gentleness and concern he sees than out of fear— he lifts his arms from behind his back and looks at the red and raw wounds around his wrists, dried blood mingling with fresh blood, making him wince. It hurts quite a lot, but considering how much pain he is in overall, it barely registers, honestly.

His breath leaves him entirely a second later, though, when he feels strong yet still so utterly gentle hands grab his, cradling them oh so tenderly within their warm and tender embrace. It makes his cheeks flush bright red, the sensation making him a little lightheaded and dizzy, even more so when his eyes automatically seek out lavender, shivering when their eyes meet. The man smiles at him, then, a small and crooked thing, but Taka privately believes it may be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. The thought concerns him, but not enough to make him berate himself. As confused as he feels, he finds he prefers this than being beaten, thanks ever so.

The man begins talking again, then, saying how he sure has been hurt a lot, his voice low and rumbling, full of concern. It makes Taka flush with embarrassment, oddly ashamed at his state, like it was his fault or something. He apologizes softly, unsure what the man expects from him.

The man hums in discontent, though, shaking his head, before explaining that he’s not blaming him, don’t worry. He then goes on to ask if Taka would want him to dress the wounds, saying he has some first aid supplies and things like that. That makes Taka blush again, but he realizes that that might be for the best. He nods his head slowly, still afraid, but growing more used to this as time passes. He’s still waiting for the shoe to drop, for the man to suddenly decide to hurt him, fearing that the biker is just lulling him into a false sense of security before harming him worse than ever before, but... well. Taka has always been a trusting person by nature, so he can’t help his body’s natural inclination to trust the man.

The man leaves then for a little while, though Taka can hear him shuffling around in a small room attached to the one he’s in, which he assumes must be a bathroom. He takes the time to observe his surroundings, realizing that he’s in a fairly nice and spacious bedroom. It has a queen size bed along the back wall near the center, with a couple nightstands on either side. There is a large banner for the Crazy Diamonds that takes up half of the back wall, with other smaller decorations littering the other walls. There is a table and a small TV set, a couch and armchair, things like that. Taka thinks it looks kind of nice, maybe even a little cozy, even with the harsh and cold concrete floor and walls. The lighting is kept low, too, which Taka appreciates as he realizes his head is aching softly, the dehydration and hunger getting to him. Not to mention the blood loss...

He doesn’t get to dwell on this long before the man is back, carrying a large kit of first aid supplies. Taka realizes he must have a look of surprise on his face when the man smirks at him, snickering softly. The man then explains that he’s a biker, of course he has an extensive first aid kit in his room, duh. The words are oddly teasing, which makes Taka blush again, averting his eyes shyly.

He jolts a little when he feels gentle fingers touch him again, but he settles a lot quicker than before, offering the man a shaky smile when he sees the concern in the lavender eyes again. The man clears his throat awkwardly then and says that he’s going to start dressing the wounds, warning Taka that it’s going to hurt. Taka knows this, has dressed enough of his own wounds during his lifetime, and nods his head tightly as he grits his teeth in anticipation.

Despite the sting that comes from the antiseptic that the man uses, Taka doesn’t actually feel the pain all that much as the man gently cleans off his wrists first, not with how gentle the man is going. The man works in silence for a moment, before he begins talking, introducing himself formally at last. While Taka had obviously known his name, he finds himself able to think of the man by his first name for the first time.

Mondo asks for his name, then, even though Taka knows he must know it, considering that his gang had said it earlier. But the conversation helps distract from the stinging of the antiseptic, so he hesitantly replies, saying his name. He then, for reasons he doesn’t know, says that Mondo could call him ‘Taka,’ if he’d like. Taka does not get called that often by people, even if he privately calls himself it, but something about hearing Mondo say the nickname his mother gave him is oddly alluring to him, his stomach clenching with knots as a pleasant heat rises within him.

Despite what people often say about him, Taka knows that he is no fool. And as such, he dimly understands what it is he is currently feeling for the man before him. He does his best to rationalize it away, telling himself that it’s just a reaction to the stressful situation, that he’s just responding to the biker’s apparent kindness after so much cruelty, that it’s nothing more than that. Taka knows that he is gay, has known this for some time, but he knows that what he currently is feeling is not real, that it is manufactured based on the situation. Stockholm Syndrome, he tells himself. Nothing more.

Still, it’s hard to ignore how his stomach churns as Mondo gently tends to his wounds, the biker letting out soft comments here and there, asking him questions every so often when the pain gets really bad. Questions about his life, what he’s studying in uni, what career he wants, if he has a girlfriend... things like that. The personal questions make him blush, and while he knows he probably shouldn’t be telling these things to a biker gang leader, he can’t help how he replies honestly. He’s always been an open person, after all. He says that he’s studying political science, since he wants to become Prime Minister one day. He blushes when he says that he has no girlfriend, blushes harder when he accidentally lets slip that he has no friends in general, either.

That makes Mondo pause, the biker staring at him with wide eyes, asking him why not. The question embarrasses Taka, but he again answers truthfully, stammering about how he’s always been very bad at conversation, that he can’t ever manage to hold one for longer than a few minutes without boring or annoying his conversation partner. He also explains a little about his grandfather, embarrassed yet again.

Mondo doesn’t get mad at him, though, like he fears. He just hums thoughtfully, eyes glazed as he thinks about something, before he blurts out that he thinks Taka is pretty good at conversation, mumbling that he likes talking to him. It makes Taka blush bright red again, but he feels some comfort in the fact that Mondo is blushing just as bright too. Taka stammers out a shaky thanks, the words hanging in the air as they both stare awkwardly at the ground, the dorks unable to handle the Emotion.

After an awkward moment passes, Mondo clears his throat and continues dressing the wounds, having just finished wrapping Taka’s torso with a lot of gauze to help with the bruising. Mondo had mentioned that he didn’t think the ribs were broken, just sprained, but that the gauze should help the bruising feel a little better. With that done, Mondo moves onto Taka’s face, wincing a little as he sees the dark bruising and the broken nose.

Apologizing softly, Mondo asks if he can set his nose so it will heal straight. It’s been a couple days since the injury, so doing so might risk breaking it again, he explains. Taka thinks about that for a second, biting his lip gently, before nodding, not looking forward to the pain but knowing that it will likely be better in the long run. Mondo apologizes again, soft and awkward, before gently grabbing his nose and setting it as quick as he can.

It still hurts quite a lot, and Taka cannot help the whimper of pain he gives, tears rising to his eyes and falling quick, stinging the small cuts all along his cheeks. To his intense surprise, he feels a warm hand cup his cheek, a soothing thumb coming up to gently wipe the tears away. He hears Mondo shush him softly again, muttering quietly that it’s okay. That Taka is okay.

Taka feels his heart beat fast again at the action, his cheeks flushed uncomfortably, but also very pleasantly. He has never felt like this for anyone before, and it concerns him a little. It concerns him more for how little it concerns him, though, to be honest.

Mondo seems to realize what he’s doing then, pulling back abruptly with bright red cheeks and an awkward grimace on his face. He doesn’t storm off, though, and instead goes back to setting his nose, putting a nose splint on it to keep it in place. He apologizes for not having any ice, saying that it’s in the kitchen area but that he can’t head out to grab it just then. He promises that he will soon, though. Taka finds it sweet and smiles shakily at him, thanking him once more. His thanks seems to embarrass Mondo more, and Taka is coming to find that he really adores the shade of pink Mondo’s cheeks turn when he’s embarrassed. But that line of thinking is very dangerous, so he curbs it immediately. Or he tries to...

They continue chatting awkwardly after that, Mondo asking questions and Taka answering. It becomes easier as time goes on, and soon Mondo is chuckling at some of the things Taka says, much to Taka’s professed annoyance. Truthfully, Taka couldn’t care less, since the sound of Mondo’s laughter is very alluring to him. Not that he allows himself to think that, of course.

Before long, all of Taka’s wounds are dressed and cared for, his body bruised and aching, but no longer in intense pain. Mondo helps him get back into the shirt but pauses as he watches him struggle to get back into the jeans (which Mondo had removed with bright red cheeks to get a couple wounds on Taka’s thighs), confused when Taka absently mentions how much he hates jeans and things like that. Mondo asks why he’s wearing them if he hates them, and Taka confusedly explains that Mondo’s gang had dressed him in the outfit earlier, to make him look more presentable. The words seem to anger Mondo, and Taka is shocked to realize that he doesn’t really feel afraid. Not when he recognizes that Mondo isn’t angry at him, per se. That gives him pause, but he pushes it aside again, realizing it’s futile to think about.

Mondo stands up and strides away from him, then, much to Taka’s confusion. Unable to stop himself, he asks where the biker is going, blinking when he sees him stop in front of a dresser. Mondo doesn’t reply as he shifts through it, seeming to be looking for something. The biker lets out a soft noise of triumph after a moment and pulls something out, something Taka cannot see from his distance. As Mondo gets closer, however, he notices that he is holding a pair of old, worn sweatpants, which makes Taka blink.

Mondo explains that they are an old pair from when he’d been younger that he’d never gotten around to tossing even though they no longer fit, handing them to Taka with a soft blush. He explains quickly that he thought they’d be more comfortable than the jeans, and that they should fit him since they’re so old. The explanation oddly makes Taka blush, too, before looking away shyly again even as he takes the sweatpants with another soft thanks.

It’s hard for him to put the pants on with the multitude of injuries he has, so Mondo offers to help, which Taka agrees to with great embarrassment. Now that his wounds are all dressed and the pain has gone down, he is starting to register the feel of Mondo’s hands on his body and it is making him feel some very inappropriate things, he will tell you that! He tries to push it down, but he can’t stop how his body reacts, much to his intense mortification.

Luckily, Mondo doesn’t seem to notice and together they are able to get the pants on. Taka notes that they feel very, very soft, softer than anything he has ever worn before. They are slightly too big and slightly too long on him, but he kind of likes them even more for it.

It’s as he absently petting the soft material that he hears Mondo mutter at him, the words so quiet that it takes Taka a moment to register them. And, when he does, he blushes bright red again, since he realizes that Mondo had said— very awkwardly— that Taka could keep the pants if he wanted after this. Since, you know. It’s not like Mondo can wear them.

Taka tries to stammer out a rejection, saying that he couldn’t possibly accept such a nice gift, to which Mondo gives him a weird look. The look makes Taka anxious that he said something wrong, the feeling growing when Mondo states that it’s not really anything big, they’re just a pair of old sweatpants, it’s really not a big deal?

Taka feels awkward again, but again can’t help how he explains that he’s just never been given a gift before, not from anyone other than his father. It makes his insides squirm when he sees Mondo staring at him with wide eyes, but before it can get too uncomfortable, Mondo looks away, blushing softly again as he says again that it’s really nothing.

Before Taka can begin to compartmentalize the words, Mondo continues, his voice so low and mumbling Taka has to fight to understand him, but Taka... Taka swears he hears Mondo say that he deserves all the gifts in the world, really. Which just... makes everything worse for him, in all honesty.

The awkwardness rises between them, both men blushing brightly and looking anywhere but at the other for several long moments, nearing a full minute. Taka doesn’t like the awkwardness, wants to say something to break it, but he has no idea what, given how bad he always has been at conversing. Not to mention how utterly strange the circumstances are, really...

The silence gets broken finally by the sound of Taka’s stomach growling, to his intense mortification. He is glad that it seems to have broken the tension, at least, as Mondo is looking at him again, wry amusement dancing in his eyes as his lips smirk gently. He teases Taka about his growling stomach, which Taka realizes he doesn’t mind as much as he usually does when he gets taunted by someone. In fact... he almost likes the gentle teasing, finding the soft amusement dancing within Mondo’s eyes to be quite amazing.

Taka accidentally ruins the moment, though, when he absently mentions that it’s been days since he last ate, so he supposes it makes sense that his stomach was growling. He’d meant the words almost like a joke, but it of course fell flat, as Mondo stares at him with wide eyed horror, asking him bluntly what he means.

Nervous (and upset that he ruined the beautiful smile upon Mondo’s lips), Taka stammers about how he has not been given any food and very little water since he was taken a couple nights before, leaving him kind of hungry. He’s actually starving, but he does his best to downplay his plight, not wanting to be too much of a burden.

The reminder of why Taka is there seems to upset Mondo greatly, he notes with dismay, watching as any amusement dies immediately at his words, the simmering anger and upset rising in the lavender eyes as his hands clench into tight fists at his sides. Taka doesn’t feel afraid, though, as he realizes once more that the look isn’t directed at him, but instead... instead is at his gang. Taka almost doesn’t believe this, thinking that he must be deluding himself, but his assumption gets confirmed when he hears Mondo mutter that he’s going to “f*ckin’ kill those godd*mn b*st*rds.”

The words concern Taka greatly, and he is unable to stop himself from chastising Mondo, saying that violence is not ever the answer. Mondo gives him a strange look for that but doesn’t reply back. He just keeps scowling, his eyes averting immediately in what Taka thinks might be shame.

Mondo mutters out yet another apology, then, this one more emotive than the last few. Mondo continues and says that it’s his fault Taka is stuck here, his fault that he was harmed this way. If he had just never said anything about Taka in the first place, then none of this would ever have happened, making him the one to blame for this entire situation. Taka watches, his heart aching softly, as Mondo curls in on himself, looking miserable before him.

Before he can stop himself, he finds himself reaching out, touching Mondo’s shoulder gently, doing his best not to flinch back when Mondo jolts at the touch. He gets tongue tied when Mondo looks up at him with wide, unhappy eyes, but he quickly presses on, realizing then that he doesn’t want Mondo to beat himself up over what had happened. While some part of him is still afraid that this is all some very elaborate hoax to harm him even more in the end, the majority of him is starting to get used to the idea that this might be real. That Mondo might truly mean what he says.

The thought creates some cognitive dissonance inside him, since he has spent years listening to his father rant about biker gangs, the Crazy Diamonds and Mondo in particular, and it’s very strange to think that maybe Mondo isn’t all bad. But he decides to shove the thoughts away for now, knowing it’s unhelpful considering his current situation. Especially since he knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that he doesn’t like seeing Mondo look so miserable and that he would probably do just about anything to make the look go away...

He then awkwardly, but with as much enthusiasm as he can muster (which isn’t much by his standards but is a heck of a lot by anyone else’s), tells Mondo that he doesn’t blame him for what has happened. Not at all, really. He cannot say that it hasn’t been a very terrifying experience, one that he definitely cannot say he has enjoyed, but he assures Mondo that he doesn’t blame him in any way, shape, or form. It was just a tragic misunderstanding, Taka claims, thinking that he almost believes it himself with how confidently he says it. And when Mondo looks up at him, his eyes wide and searching, he does his best to keep his face as open and honest as possible, which isn’t very hard for him to do, honestly.

After a few moments, Mondo asks absently, dazedly, if he truly means that. In response, Taka nods enthusiastically, doing his best to hide the wince of pain the action causes within him. He then verbalizes his answer, saying that of course he means it, he always means everything he says. He even goes on to say how he is very grateful he has met Mondo, his cheeks blushing with his embarrassment as he praises the biker, saying how kind and caring he has been.

Mondo is also blushing, the soft pink he is coming to adore bright on his cheeks, his eyes soft as silk as they look at him steadily. Taka feels his heart beat fast as he stares at Mondo, part of him wondering what is currently going on. He has never felt this way, ever, and while he knows what it means, logically, he has no idea what it means, personally. Emotionally.

He has no idea what exactly it is he wants from this encounter, knowing that what he is feeling is impossible, especially considering who Mondo currently is and who Taka wishes so desperately to be. And yet, as the moments drag on and their eyes do not part, the charged energy around them growing more and more overbearing as the seconds pass, he starts to wonder if any of that truly matters. Mondo’s past and present, his own present and future. Does any of that truly matter when he feels as strongly as this? Or is this a lie, brought on by desperation and relief at having someone be kind to him after such horrible abuse? Can he trust what he is feeling at all? Does it matter? He doesn’t know, he has never felt more lost. All he knows is that when he’s looking at Mondo, he feels calmer and more in control than he ever has... ever, really. Which is ridiculous considering he has never been less in control in his life, but... but...

Before Taka can come to any form of conclusion, he both hears and feels his stomach rumble, his embarrassment rising as he finally breaks the eye contact, his heart pounding, and his breath shaky with all of the weird thoughts and emotions swirling around him. He hears Mondo stumble to his feet, and while his eyes want so desperately to look, he forces himself not to, keeping his eyes on the concrete floor. He is still sitting on the cold ground, but he finds he doesn’t mind it too much, as it is stabilizing in some ways. He sits in the awkward silence that has arisen for a very charged second, before Mondo breaks it soon after.

Mondo mumbles about how he should probably get Taka something to eat, and also some ice, asking him if he has any allergies or preferences or things like that. Taka shakes his head slowly, answering shakily that he doesn’t, and that he is fine with pretty much anything, thanks. Mondo stares at him for a second, before nodding and moving to head to the door. He pauses before he gets too far, his body swaying as he contemplates something. Before Taka can ask if he is alright, Mondo is turning back and muttering that Taka probably shouldn’t be sitting on the floor, asking haltingly if he’d like help moving to the couch before he leaves. Taka blushes, again, and thinks it likely would be wiser to say no, to not allow Mondo to get so close to him again. Besides, it’s not like the floor is that uncomfortable...

But, despite himself entirely, he finds himself nodding as quickly as he can, shaky smile rising on his lips as he stammers that that he would appreciate that, thanks. It makes his stomach clench to see the soft, decidedly pleased smile that rises on Mondo’s face as the biker nods and heads over to him slowly.

Once he’s standing tall over him, he pauses for a moment, seeming to be collecting himself. Taka appreciates this, as it allows him to also collect his own very scattered thoughts. Before he is able to though, Mondo is bending down slowly and is carefully reaching out for Taka, his voice low and muttering as he asks if it’s okay to touch him. Taka blushes yet again at the words (if he ever stopped blushing, of course) and nods once, quickly, smile brighter on his face as he verbally agrees. Mondo smiles brightly back, cheeks also flushed, as he gently moves forward, his hands reaching out to grab Taka. There’s an awkward moment when Taka wonders what Mondo is planning, but Mondo verbalizes his plan before implementing it, mumbling that he’s going to pick Taka up and carry him to the couch, to prevent any of the injuries from getting jolted too badly. This embarrasses Taka, and he stammers that he is pretty heavy, he’s sure he can walk himself, it’s fine.

This makes Mondo smirk, his eyes dancing with humor as the biker claims that he could lift Taka easily, since he routinely deadlifts 90 kilos (roughly 200 pounds), easy. This gives Taka some very inappropriate thoughts, which he forcefully shakes off as he smiles shakily, nodding his agreement with only mild hesitation. Mondo smiles warmly back, before returning to the task at hand, transcribing what he is doing to prevent Taka from freaking out. Taka appreciates it more than he can say, and as such he doesn’t even tense up at all when he feels warm, strong arms wrap around him and lift him gently bridal style, his body pressing wondrously to a warm and highly muscular chest. Taka has some more ~~inappropriate thoughts~~ that he has to firmly stow away as Mondo begins to walk to the couch, the biker so gentle and careful that he doesn’t feel any hint of pain whatsoever.

Being put down also doesn’t hurt, but he finds himself strangely not wanting the biker to let go of him, his heart racing as he feels oddly at home in Mondo’s arms. He reluctantly does let go, though, but he swears that Mondo, too, is letting his hands linger just a touch longer than they should as they slide out from under his body... but surely, he must be imagining things...

Right?

He doesn’t get any time to try and rationalize anything before Mondo is standing again, body angling to turn away. Before he leaves, though, he hesitates, and then... then he darts his hand out to trail gently across Taka’s forehead, tenderly brushing back the hair that has fallen messily into his eyes. Cheeks permanently stained red, he watches as Mondo stammers out a quick goodbye, promising that he’ll be right back and that no one else will dare enter the room, indicating that he will be safe here. His hand is still lingering along his cheek, though, which makes it very challenging for Taka to think.

But then the hand is gone, and Mondo is hastily exiting the room, gait awkward. Taka finds it strange that such a fearsome biker gang leader would ever act so awkward and fumbling, but he finds it strangely... cute. Which is definitely a word he’d never have thought to apply to a biker, but there they are!

As Taka sits alone by himself in the room, he wonders yet again what will happen next. Where this all will lead. If it will lead anywhere good, or if his trusting nature will be taken advantage of yet again.

He supposes only time will tell...

~

Mondo is freaking out. Like, full on internal panic, worse even than when he first realized he likes dudes as well as chicks. And it’s all that godd*mn kid’s fault.

If he had felt interested when he first saw the boy’s photo, he is full on infatuated now. He doesn’t even really know why, since Taka (as the boy had earnestly told him he could call him, good god) is definitely not his usual type. Not to mention it’s been less than an hour. But he’s just so... good. Kind. Nice. Things like that. Like... sh*t. Even after being beaten to an inch of his life and starved for almost two days, he still tried to console Mondo for feeling bad about it. Like... what the f*ck?! Who the hell does that?!

He’s also cute as all hell... the blush that seems permanently on his face is slowly driving Mondo insane, he swears to Christ. And his smile... d*mn, it’s so adorable! It should be a crime to be that adorable, Mondo swears.

The worst part of it all is that there is no universe in which Mondo would ever have a chance with the kid. Even discounting the fact that it’s entirely his fault the kid is in this situation, no matter what Taka may say, there’s also the fact that Mondo is literally a criminal. One that the kid’s father has made it his life’s mission to see rot in jail. A worse match could not possibly exist, dear god.

And yet... as he walks silently through his hideout— not quite hiding from his gang, but definitely not wanting to deal with them at the moment— he can’t help the way his heart races at the thought of the boy. Nor can he help how he wishes that- that they could... could...

But it’s stupid. And ridiculous. It would never work. And even if the kid feels anything similar to him at the moment— which is so doubtful, Jesus Christ— it would only be because of sh*t like... Stockholm Syndrome, or whatever it’s called. He’d just be latching onto the first kindness he’s been given after a traumatic event. It’s not real. It... it wouldn’t ever be real.

Mondo could never have something so nice.

Tired of the useless thoughts, Mondo pushes it all aside and enters the kitchen carefully, watchful to see if anyone is inside. When he sees that no one is, he enters easily and heads to the fridge, which is stocked with some party food that was put away after the official party ended earlier. He grabs some small sandwiches and some sushi and rice balls, uncertain what the kid would like. After a couple days without food, Mondo figures he probably should eat light, yeah? There isn’t any soup, but he does make sure to grab some seaweed salad and plain white rice, since that should be light enough if he can’t eat anything heavier. He also grabs some water and some juice, for the dehydration.

Finally, he opens the freezer and grabs a bunch of ice packs, knowing the kid has a ton of places that are injured. It’s too much for him to carry, so he grabs a plastic bag to put it all in, which makes it all easier to handle. As he’s looking in the freezer, he notices some frozen mochi in various flavors, which gives him pause. Before he can talk himself out of it, he’s grabbing it, rationalizing it by saying it can be a peace offering, a better apology than the absolute sh*t ones he’s been giving thus far. And if the kid can’t eat it, well, then he can. He f*cking loves mochi of all kinds, alright? Frozen mochi the best, even if it’s not traditional. It’s why the gang got so much of it.

Shaking off the weirdness inside him, he heads back to his room, still looking out for gang members. He almost gets caught once when some newer members pass by the hallway he is in, but luckily, they don’t see him, so he’s able to get back to his room (and Taka) without any incident.

He does pause for an extended moment outside the room, his heart racing strangely in his chest, in a way it never has before. Mondo has had crushes on people before, on both dudes and chicks, but somehow this feels different. Maybe it’s the situation, maybe it’s something else entirely, but something about the kid makes Mondo feel so much inside. He doesn’t think he’s blushed so much around a single person since he was fourteen and his bro caught him jacking off and refused to stop teasing him about it for weeks. But this feels so very different from then, it’s laughable to compare the two.

But he can’t loiter outside his own room forever, so he takes a deep breath and knocks softly, not wanting to startle the kid without warning, before he enters. As he does, he realizes that he hadn’t bothered to tie the kid up before he left, so he has a moment to panic that the kid had escaped while he’d been out. It would honestly be the most logical thing to do, godd*mn. And... and while he can’t deny the rush of absolute disappointmentat the thought, he realizes he wouldn’t be able to blame the kid if he did use the time to make his escape. After all, it’s not like he owes Mondo anything, dear god. The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that this makes the most sense and— while it does hurt something deep inside him— he resolves to not let it break him when the door fully opens and he doesn’t see the kid.

He is expecting this so much that once the door is fully open and his eyes carelessly dart across the familiar room, he almost doesn’t register that Taka is still sitting on the couch where he’d left him, still as a statue. He blinks owlishly at the kid as Taka turns to face him, his own eyes wide. Heat flares within him when he sees the startled, almost afraidlook on the youthful face morph quickly into a bright and happy smile, the kid greeting him happily. Like... like they’re old friends or something...

It’s only when the kid tilts his head and gives him a questioning look that he realizes he’s been staring for a little too long. His cheeks bright red (like a f*cking schoolgirl, dear god), he hastily enters the room and places the bag down on the coffee table before the couch. He pauses when he hears the kid absently mutter about how plastic bags are bad for the environment, and how Mondo shouldn’t use them. He can’t stop the incredulous look he gives the boy, but Taka doesn’t seem to even notice it, as focused as he is on the contents of the bag.

That jolts Mondo into action as he begins to remove the various foods from the bag, as well as the ice. He leaves the mochi, though. Just... for now, he tells himself.

He explains to the kid that he wasn’t sure what he would like or what he could handle, so he got a bit of everything, to be safe. Taka doesn’t seem upset as he beams at Mondo, thanking him wholeheartedly, saying that while he doesn’t get it often, he loves sushi and that he can stomach sandwiches, though he prefers traditional Japanese food. Mondo awkwardly mentions that he feels the same, but that his brother used to make them sandwiches when they were little, since he wasn’t very good at cooking much else. That leads to Taka to curiously ask why his brother was the one to feed him, which causes Mondo to freeze up.

Taka doesn’t notice, thankfully, since he’s so focused on grabbing the ice and placing it upon the worst of his bruises, before hungrily grabbing some of the rice balls and eating a few, slowly but clearly hungrily. The enthusiastic noises the kid lets out does not help his nerves at all, but it does help calm down the rising panic. He has never liked explaining his family situation to people, but somehow... somehow, he thinks it won’t be so bad to explain it to Taka.

Haltingly, Mondo explains that his ma and da weren’t exactly the best. That his ma was a horrible, neglectful alcoholic and his da was an abusive a**hole. Daiya— his brother, he explains— had been the one to always make sure that Mondo was kept safe and healthy, protecting him from everything, including his own parents. His da left them when he was five and his ma died when he was ten, but Daiya was always there for him, feeding him and ensuring he was kept alive. He even helped with his schoolwork, allowing Mondo to not fail out before middle school. He can feel Taka staring at him, the boy pausing in his eating to watch him with his wide, bright red eyes.

Mondo can sense the question the kid wants to ask, can tell from the intense way he is staring that he wants to ask about Daiya, about what happened to him. Mondo is anticipating it, even if he dreads it, knowing that lying to this boy is going to be hard, but also knowing he has to do it. No one can know the truth about what happened to Daiya, after all. Absolutely no one...

However... despite the fact he knows the kid is thinking about it, Taka just... moves on. He says he’s sorry such a thing happened, voice soft and sympathetic, and then he... he begins talking about himself. His voice is as halting at Mondo’s had been, the boy clearly unsure if he should be sharing this, but he does it anyway. Talking about how his mother had died of pneumonia when he’d been eight, leaving him alone with his grieving father and the endless debt his grandfather had foisted upon them. How things had gotten very hard for them after they lost one working adult, the debt nearly forcing them to lose their minuscule apartment. His voice is soft as he talks about it, his eyes sad with grief plain within them, but there is strength there, too.

It makes Mondo feel sympathy for the boy, knowing sort of what that is like. He also, for the first time, begins to feel some sympathy for Takaaki, realizing that the harsh and driven police chief had gone through more sh*t than he had expected the overbearing man to have. He doesn’t likethe chief, definitely not, but he realizes he can sympathize with him. Just a little.

But that is very much Not something he wants to feel for the man trying to send him to jail for the rest of his life, truthfully. As such, Mondo decides to steer the conversation away from death and past tragedy then, realizing that it’s making him Feel Things he doesn’t really want to, thanks.

Feeling a touch awkward, Mondo strikes up a conversation about some popular movie that literally everyone in Japan has seen. Or... so he thought. Because, apparently, Taka doesn’t watch movies. Or television. Ever.

This gets Mondo started on a long, impassioned rant, questioning how Taka could be almost an adult but hadn’t ever seen a single Disney movie. Or Ghibli! Mondo himself can’t say he’s a huge movie or TV fan, preferring to ride his hog and be outside, but even he will waste time watching a film or show or something.

It’s after about five minutes that Mondo realizes he’s been ranting nonstop, Taka not saying a word. As soon as he realizes this, he stops talking, his face on fire, feeling like a complete and utter moron. Part of him is afraid to look at Taka, but when he hears the boy let out a sound of disappointment, he can’t help how his eyes dart over, his heart freezing at the interested and invested look he finds there. His heart then begins to race when Taka earnestly asks about the movies Mondo was talking about, apparently wanting to know more. He confesses that the reason he never watched TV or movies was that he had thought that they were a waste of time, but that he’s always privately been curious about such things, wondering what makes them so important to so many people.

At Taka’s insistence, Mondo keeps going, talking about the films that he and Daiya would watch when he’d been young, Taka listening intently and even asking questions here and there. The conversation lasts for a while, and Mondo is shocked to realize that almost half an hour has passed while they had talked, Taka having finished eating and drinking a while before. Mondo had even eaten a little, too, since Taka had confessed that he felt weird being the only one to eat.

It’s then that Mondo has the thought that ‘this feels like a f*cking date,’ though he immediately dismisses said thought, knowing how moronic it is. The feeling still lingers, though, getting worse when he watches Taka throw his head back and laugh at something absent Mondo had muttered in his distraction, Taka so emotive it’s not even funny. It makes Mondo want to do everything he can to hear his laugh again, the desire so strong he doesn’t know how to handle it.

It’s as the conversation is winding to a close that he remembers the mochi, his cheeks flushing as he thinks about the dessert he’d brought, doing everything he can to force down the feeling that this is date because it very much is not, good god. Part of him is worried the mochi would have melted, but the room itself is kept fairly cold and the mochi had been frozen solid almost, so he has hope that it will still be somewhat frozen.

With fumbling words, Mondo mentions the dessert as casually as possible, though he knows he fails miserably. But it doesn’t matter at all, not when he sees Taka’s eyes literally light up, excitement bright within them. The boy explains with so much enthusiasm about how much he used to adore mochi, before his grandfather was kicked out of office, and they fell into debt. He says that he rarely gets the treat anymore, not with how expensive and frivolous it is, but that he has never forgotten how much he adored it once upon a time. He also says that his stomach is feeling better, so he thinks he should be able to eat some, if Mondo doesn’t mind.

Mondo just about self-destructs at the adorableness and mutely holds out the bag, offering Taka the ability to pick out whatever flavor he wants. There are a bunch of different ones, mostly traditional flavors like strawberry, mango, green tea and jasmine, but a couple of them are less common, like dragon fruit and kumquat.

He watches— heart beating fast and off tempo— as Taka deliberates carefully for a full-on minute, eyes darting between the choices like if he chooses wrong, the world will end or something. It’s so cute that it takes him that minute to untie his tongue enough to grunt that Taka can have more than one, so he doesn’t have to worry about choosing wrong or anything. His words make Taka blush again (for the hundredth time, Mondo thinks faintly), the kid stammering out his thanks, saying that Mondo is too kind again. Which is utterly hilarious, especially considering why Taka is even here, but by then, Mondo figures it’s best to just... go along with it, really. If it makes Taka feel better...

Taka quickly makes his choice then, grabbing a green tea mochi ice cream, biting into it soon after, letting out a particularly obscenesound as he very vocally enjoys the treat. Mondo is flushed bright red, and his boxers are significantly tighter than they should be by Taka’s second bite, which is almost just as bad as the first, dear god. By the time Taka finishes the relatively small dessert, Mondo is very flustered and regretting every single life choice he has ever made, truly.

Taka unfortunately notices Mondo’s situation and gets concerned, asking if he is alright. As embarrassed as he is, Mondo can’t help how he yells, not wanting to but being unable to stop it. He immediately berates himself when he sees Taka flinch back, his red eyes wide and terrified, the upset clear within him. That, more than anything, reminds Mondo how futile his ridiculous ‘crush’ is. Taka could never see him in any positive light. He just... can’t.

Softening his voice forcefully, he hesitantly explains about how he always yells when he gets nervous, but that he hadn’t meant to sound angry, he isn’t, he swears. He apologizes too, feeling awful that he’d ruined things with his usual nonsense. But, to his complete shock, Taka gets over his fear quickly and is smiling again before he knows it. It’s less enthusiastic than before, but no less beautiful for it.

Taka then says that he understands and doesn’t fault Mondo for it, saying that it’s okay. A slightly awkward silence rises between them before Mondo manages to break it by awkwardly offering Taka another mochi, which Taka takes happily with another bright smile. Mondo does his best to not let it get to him as badly, and only partially fails.

Taka insists that Mondo eat some of the mochi, too, claiming again that he feels awkward being the only one eating, and soon they both are going through the sweet treats Mondo had packed, the ice cream inside the gummy exterior soft and almost melted, but not quite. It is honestly the perfect texture and Mondo can’t help the soft sound of appreciation he lets out as he eats his dessert. He gets distracted when he hears a strangled noise come from the boy across from him. Concerned, Mondo looks up at Taka, worried that he’d have to somehow give the kid the Heimlich, but all he sees is Taka looking bright red, his eyes wide and his mouth partially open. There’s a glazed quality to his eyes, and it takes a moment to understand why the kid is looking at him like that, before it hits him in a wave of embarrassed pleasure.

The kid had been turned on by the noise he’d made while eating the mochi. Holy sh*t!

Face bright red and stomach in twisted knots, Mondo looks at the ground, breathing deeply to try and stop the heat flooding him. His pants are even tighter now, his junk straining against his boxer shorts, and he has to forcibly think of every unsexy thing he can to force it down. It works, but only barely, since Taka is still staring at him with a sort of hungerhe doubts the kid even realizes. Eventually Taka looks away, face red, as he shakily grabs another mochi to eat. Figuring that moving the f*ck on is the best course of action, Mondo does the same, though he’s careful to keep his noises to himself. For… both of their sakes, really.

Soon all the mochi he packed is gone, Taka looking very satisfied as he smiles gently at Mondo, looking for all the world like they are old friends who are just meeting up again, not a captor and captive. The thought makes Mondo feel so incredibly awful and he knows that it’s time for this whole charade to end. He has dressed Taka’s wounds and has fed him and given him water. There is only one thing left for him to do to try and rectify this whole situation. To make up for the pain and suffering Taka has faced at the hands of him and his gang.

He has to let Taka go free.

The thought is far more painful than he can possibly imagine. The idea of letting Taka go and never seeing him again, never speaking to him again, it’s… it’s awful and it hurts so f*cking badly. He has no clue what is going on between him and the kid, but he finds that he strangely likes it. Their dynamic. Their rapport. And he… he finds he doesn’t want to lose that.

But it’s stupid. So utterly, completely stupid. This isn’t real, he tells himself harshly, the mochi in his gut roiling angrily with his emotions. This isn’t real and Taka isn’t here because he wants to be. He’s here because he has to be. Because his gang forced him to be. If it was up to Taka, he’d never have come to this place at all, would never have willingly spent time with a criminal biker gang leader. This isn’t Taka’s world. He doesn’t belong here. He’s a good kid, the kind with hopes and dreams that Mondo will never have. Yeah, he’s sometimes has the thought of going into carpentry, but it’s not like he could ever f*cking do that sh*t. He’s a biker. A criminal. The only future he has is to spend the rest of his life rotting in jail, honestly. There is no retirement for him. He doesn’t get to retire.

This is his life. Biker gangs and violence and anger. He doesn’t deserve anything else. Not after all he has done. Not after all the people he’s hurt. He doesn’t deserve someone like Taka, who is sunshine and brightness, so g*dd*mn beautiful it hurts his eyes. Someone who is forgiving to an absolute fault, willing to let go of his own anger and fear if it just means helping someone else. Even if that someone else hurt them or is responsible for them being hurt. Taka… Taka is good, so incredibly good, and Mondo… Mondo never will be. Good. Not even a little. Not at all.

And so, his heart aching fiercely, he looks at Taka from the corner of his eyes, not strong enough to face him head on for this conversation. And he… he begins to speak.

Voice halting and way too f*cking weak, Mondo mumbles that it’s probably time to get Taka back to his home. He can see Taka whip his head to face him, eyes wide. Mondo can almost pretend he sees disappointmentand pain in those brilliant scarlet eyes, but he forces himself to ignore it. It’s just a trick of the light. Nothing else.

And yet… he can’t quite ignore the disappointment he hears so plainly in Taka’s voice, the kid dejectedly saying that perhaps that is a good idea. Saying that his father might be wondering where he is by now. From the corner of his eyes, he can still see the reluctance on Taka’s face, and it makes Mondo feel so very, very strange inside. Like his insides are rebelling against him or something. He tries to push it down, standing and making his way over to his dresser to grab his keys, but… but he can’t quite manage it.

When he returns to Taka, he asks softly if the kid thinks he’d be able to handle riding on his hog, or if he should try and grab the van that they use for various events out. He says it will be harder to grab the van unnoticed— since it’s parked in the lot where the rest of the gang stores their rides, while Mondo keeps his baby in a private garage— but that he will do that if it makes Taka feel safer.

Taka is just staring at him with wide eyes, his hands shaking a little, and it concerns Mondo greatly. He’s about to stammer something out, maybe even offering to call Taka a cab, but then… then the kid is nodding slowly, saying that he thinks he’d be able to handle a ride on a motorcycle. Mondo finds the way Taka says ‘motorcycle’ unreasonably adorable and has to squash down his rising emotions to nod slowly in return. But then Taka is continuing, asking anxiously if Mondo has a helmet and safety gear that Taka can borrow, since he knows how unsafe motorcycles are and he wouldn’t want to get hurt in case of a crash.

It makes Mondo snort, a smirk on his face that he hopes disguises the roiling in his gut at such a thought, and mutters how he wouldn’t crash, he’s been doing this since he was practically in diapers, he knows how to ride a hog, sh*t. The look Taka gives him is mildly disapproving as the kid reprimands him, saying that even still, it’s always good to be prepared. Past good experiences don’t preclude a future bad one, Taka explains seriously. It’s so cute that Mondo has to physically hide his face to prevent the kid from seeing the almost smitten look he knows is currently rising on his face. He doesn’t know why he’s so smitten with Taka after such a short amount of time, but dear god, he is.

But he moves on and considers the kid’s request. He furrows his brow as he thinks about it, wondering if they do have any protective gear in the hideout. None of his gang really bothers with that sh*t, but… well. He thinks that maybe… if he looks…

Mondo moves absently over to an old storage box he keeps in the corner of the room, knowing that he used to have an old helmet he used when he first started out, Daiya insisting on it despite Mondo’s displeasure. He thinks he shoved it in the storage box after Daiya- y-you know. He doesn’t know if it’ll fit the kid, but it may. Taka is smaller than him, so maybe the helmet he wore as a kid would fit. If he can f*cking find it, that is…

He can feel Taka’s curious eyes on him as he looks, but he ignores it as he pretty much tears the storage container apart without any care. Finally, as he reaches the bottom, he finds the old thing, letting out a noise of triumph as he holds it up like a prize, grinning back at Taka happily. Taka has a dazed look on his face, but he quickly snaps out of it, looking at the mess Mondo made with disapproval.

To Mondo’s complete and total shock, Taka stands then and heads to the mess, tutting as he claims it’s not a good idea to leave such a mess lying around. Mondo is stunned silent for a second as Taka approaches, but he finds his tongue when he watches the kid kneel down and begin putting Mondo’s things away, a lot more organized and careful than Mondo ever has been.

Confused, Mondo says that it’s fine, that he can just shove the things back into the box later once he gets back, to Taka’s obvious disgust. With an adorably haughty and almost pretentious look on his face, Taka explains that shoving things away in a box is not cleaning, thank you very much. Cleaning is a subtle and soothing task, the kid continues to explain, so ridiculously serious.

Unable to help it, Mondo lets out a huge laugh, so loud and boisterous his stomach aches with it, his heart fluttering awkwardly in his chest. He doesn’t usually laugh this hard, not since Daiya- well. He watches with his churning insides as Taka halts in his organized cleaning, his eyes wide and his cheeks flushed again as he looks at him, his mouth opening on a silent gasp. He looks dazed, but not in a bad way, and it’s doing some seriously funny things to his insides, Jesus Christ.

Taka eventually looks away, face now red, and goes back to cleaning. He winced a little, though, reminding Mondo of Taka’s injuries. Feeling guilty but knowing Taka won’t give up, Mondo kneels down beside him and begins to help with the cleaning. He even folds the clothes the way Taka does, though a lot clumsier and less neat. It still makes Taka beam at him, his eyes practically sparkling, so he supposes he’s doing something right.

They finish cleaning after about ten minutes, Taka looking highly satisfied with the newly organized box. He explains to Mondo shyly that he has always found comfort in cleaning, saying that it gave him control as a child that he often didn’t have. Mondo can understand that to some extent since he feels the same way about riding his hog. Mondo accidentally says that aloud, his cheeks flushing again with his unintended confession.

Taka doesn’t judge him, though. He just hums softly, a thoughtful look on his face as he leans back from his kneeling position to sit on his knees. And then… then he’s looking at Mondo curiously, an oddly nervous look on his face. Mondo wonders why he looks nervous, but learns a moment later, his body freezing as he hears Taka ask hesitantly why Mondo chose to join a gang in the first place. Why he decided to go down this path.

The question makes Mondo feel defensive, his anger rising with his discomfort. He’s had people ask him that before, mainly cops when he’d get caught as a kid, and he’s always hated being asked it. It reminds him, though, that Taka is the son of the police chief, and his chest goes cold as he wonders if Taka will be telling his father all about this conversation. He wouldn’t blame him, god he wouldn’t, but it makes him feel cold and aching and f*cking sad, and he doesn’t know how to handle that, he really doesn’t.

Luckily, before he can say anything that he’ll regret, Taka begins talking again, his words fast and frantic, his eyes wide as he takes in Mondo’s mounting anger and upset. Taka explains that he didn’t mean it negatively, but that he was just curious as to what made him choose this lifestyle. He says that his father has always been disparaging of such choices, but that he, himself, has always been curious about it. What makes someone go down such a path. Taka also shyly says that he doesn’t really see how Mondo could be that bad, since he’s been so kind to him since he got here. It makes Mondo feel like utter sh*t.

Looking away from Taka, Mondo considers the question more rationally, his stomach still clenching, but not angrily. While he hates talking about himself in such a way, he again finds that it… it’s not so bad. Not when it’s Taka he’s telling. Plus, he… he’s gotta clear up the clear misconceptions the kid is having about him. Because he is ‘that bad’. He most definitely is.

Faltering again, Mondo explains that Daiya had started the gang up when he’d been about nine and Daiya had been fifteen, as a way to make money and to give them independence. Daiya had been working in a different gang for several years before that, ever since their father left and they were pretty much on their own money wise, but it wasn’t until Daiya started The Crazy Diamonds that Mondo joined, too. He’d always loved riding with his brother on his hog, he explains fondly, but the gang stuff didn’t come until later.

Joining the gang had felt right to him, he continues, voice slower and less confident. He’d always had trouble controlling his anger, so being in a gang helped since he could get his anger out in some way. He admits sheepishly that he knows it’s not the best way he can handle the rage inside him, but that he doesn’t know what else to do. Besides. He’s the leader of his gang now and he can’t stop that. He just… can’t.

Part of him expects Taka to question him about that, but to his relief Taka doesn’t. Instead, Taka just hums softly, nodding with understanding. And then… then he asks softly if Mondo had ever considered leaving the gang. If he ever had any plans that didn’t relate to being a gangster.

Again, Mondo feels himself stiffen up, his discomfort and anger rising. It’s easier to push down this time, though, more so since he can see the earnestness on Taka’s face and he knows the kid doesn’t mean to be accusatory or judging, but that he’s honestly just… curious. Like he truly wants to know. It’s… refreshing, quite honestly.

And so… even though he knows he shouldn’t, knows it’s wrong, he… he confesses that yeah. Yeah, he has. A lot recently, if he’s being fully honest. The honesty makes him squirm, and before he can stop himself, he’s mentioning his absent and stupid as f*ck ideas of becoming a carpenter, of all things. He hurriedly says that he knows he never could, that he barely knows anything about woodworking and that he’d never actually get a job as a carpenter, not with his record. Despite himself, his throat gets thick while saying it and he has to swallow forcefully to try and get the emotion down. He jolts harshly when he feels a tentative hand touch his, his eyes wide as he meets wide red ones.

Quietly, Taka says that he doesn’t think that. That, with hard work and effort, anything is possible. He claims that if Mondo wants to… if he truly wants to become a carpenter and leave his life as a gangster behind… well. Then Taka is positive that he could do it. That Taka believes in him fully. And the strangest thing is… Mondo actually believes that he’s telling the truth.

It’s immediately overwhelming and Mondo has to force down the rush of emotion, breathing deeply to push it all aside. Taka is still looking at him with kindness and it’s too much. Standing abruptly, Mondo grunts that they should get out of there, that they’ve wasted enough time, Taka scrambling to stand soon after. Mondo hands the kid the helmet that started this whole mess and tells him to try it on, which Taka does without a word. The fit is a bit snug, but it should keep Taka safe should anything happen, Mondo thinks.

Taka removes the helmet once he’s done trying it on, his hair sticking straight up adorably once it’s off. It makes Mondo smile, but he quickly looks away before Taka can see. Clearing his throat, he tells Taka to follow close behind him and do as he said, privately hoping that they won’t get caught by anyone, but knowing that the risk is there. It’s been hours since he was left alone with Taka, and he has a feeling his gang is going to be curious about how their ‘meeting’ went. He has no illusions as to what his gang will be assuming they’ve been doing in here so long, though the thought of it disgusts him greatly. Despite all his faults and failings, he is proud to say he would never, ever force himself on someone else. The one time he slept with a woman was consensual, thank you very much, as have been the various other times he’s fooled around with people.

Besides… Taka is such a straight lace looking dude that he doubts he’d ever sleep with someone without knowing them very well first, maybe not even until marriage, even if he clearly feels some measure of attraction towards dudes, and—

Mondo cuts those thoughts off quickly, knowing that it’s useless to dwell on it. Fact is, he’s just a captor to Taka, even if the kid seems to think higher of him than he should. Once he sets Taka free, he probably won’t ever see him again. And that… is that.

Taka agrees to Mondo’s terms, reminding him that they are supposed to be leaving now. With a soft sigh, he gestures for Taka to follow him, heading to the door, reluctance stupidly high within him. It’s as he’s reaching for the door handle that he hears Taka call out to him, his voice confused. When Mondo turns back to face the kid with a raised eyebrow, he sees a confused frown (pout, really, but Mondo doesn’t think about that, not at all) on Taka’s face, which is kind of concerning…

Mondo then freezes when Taka speaks, the kid asking hesitantly if he should have the blindfold put back on if they’re going to be wandering through the hideout. Because, to be perfectly honest… he’d forgotten the kid is the son of the police chief. Again. Despite being reminded of it only a handful of minutes before. Jesus Christ…

However… as he looks at Taka and sees the small frown he’s still wearing, clearly not happy at the idea of wearing the blindfold but willing to do it if Mondo asks, he… he realizes he doesn’t want to force the kid to wear it again. Yeah, it’s stupid. This has been one of his favorite hideouts over the years, the one he’s kept most of his personal items in, and letting an outsider see the interior, let alone the son of a police chief is… reckless. Stupid, honestly.

But as he looks at Taka… painfully honest and open Taka… he thinks that maybe he can trust the kid. And that’s stupid too, since for all he knows maybe Taka is just a ridiculously good actor and has been playing him this entire g*dd*mn time, but… he doesn’t think so. He’s got a pretty good bullsh*t detector and it’s not gone off once around Taka. So maybe… maybe…

And even if Taka does rat them out and tells his father all about their hideout and where it’s located… maybe they’d deserve it. For what they all collectively did to the poor kid… the torture and starvation and terror they put him through… maybe it would only be right.

Regardless of how ridiculous it is, Mondo just shrugs tightly and tells Taka that it’s fine. That it doesn’t matter. He can see shock on the kid’s face, as well as a small measure of pleasure, which he does his hardest to not think on, god. Taka nods hesitantly, the small smile widening as he realizes Mondo is being serious. Since that just about shorts Mondo’s brain out again, he turns back to the door and focuses on finally getting Taka out of this dump.

Silent as mice, Mondo leads Taka through the catacomb of hallways and rooms, footsteps silent as he peeks around corners for signs of his gang before leading them down those paths. It feels hella weird to be sneaking around his own g*dd*mn place, but he doesn’t focus on it. He does notice that the kid is fairly silent too, even his footsteps barely making a sound on the concrete. It’s then that Mondo realizes that Taka isn’t wearing shoes, but by that point it’s not like he can fix that, so he puts it out of his mind and focuses on sneaking again.

Luckily, they manage to make it to Mondo’s private garage without any problems, Mondo letting out a sigh of relief as they enter the relatively large space. The only people allowed in this garage are him and his elite guard, but the guard isn’t allowed to enter without his permission. If someone were to enter now and see them, he’d have grounds to pretty much kick them out of the gang. After all, it’s not like he’s doing anything bad. He’s the g*dd*mn leader, for Christ’s sake. If he wants to take his captive around on his hog after leading them through the hideout without a blindfold, he’s f*cking allowed. It’s just… easier if they didn’t have to deal with all that at the moment, is all.

As he approaches his pride and joy, he sees Taka shuffling awkwardly by the entrance of the garage, fiddling with the helmet he’s still holding. He has a look of discomfort on his face and Mondo finds himself concerned despite himself. Forcing his voice to go as soft as it’s able, he asks the kid if he’s alright. If he needs anything first. Taka looks up at him with wide eyes at that, before shaking his head slowly.

Taka replies haltingly that no, he’s fine, he’s just nervous at the thought of riding on the ‘bike,’ as he calls it. He then mentions that he rarely, if ever, does anything risky, and that riding a ‘bike’ is very risky.

While normally Mondo would be pissed at hearing someone say such a thing about riding a hog, let alone calling his baby a ‘bike’ like a f*cking nerd, he finds Taka’s nerves kind of endearing. Trying to force down his smile, Mondo shrugs and mentions how he gets it, but reiterates that Taka has nothing to worry about. He’s been riding a hog alone since he was ten, after all, long before he had his official license, and he is an expert at driving it. He makes a joke about being the Ultimate at the action, which makes Taka smile faintly.

Taka goes quiet then, clearly thinking things over. After a minute, Taka nods decisively and says that he trusts Mondo, and that he will ride the ‘bike,’ putting the helmet on clumsily. The unexpected trust floors Mondo, and he finds himself unable to make the snarky comment about it being called a ‘hog,’ not a ‘bike,’ like he had planned on.

Instead, he just awkwardly clears his throat and heads for his baby, getting on fluidly. He gestures for Taka to get on too, which he does after a moment’s hesitation. It takes a couple false starts, but soon they both are mounted on the hog, Mondo instructing Taka to hold on as tight as he can, which Taka immediately does without question. Mondo is once again floored by how much trust Taka is putting into him, but he tries not to focus on it, knowing that he needs to focus.

Before leaving, he asks Taka where to drop him off, knowing a location would probably be good. And then, to his absolute shock, Taka tells him his home address. And Mondo knows that the kid understands how stupid this is, since Taka even jokingly says that he knows he probably shouldn’t be telling Mondo his address, but that he knows Mondo won’t do anything with it. His trust is once again overwhelming to Mondo, and he decides then and there to never break it. He may be a monster and a criminal, but somehow, he feels that breaking Taka’s trust would be the absolute worst thing he could ever, ever do.

Pushing down the swell of emotions, he sets off to the address given, warning Taka before he does. The kid still screams, though it is thankfully muffled by the helmet somewhat. But Mondo doesn’t care if his gang realizes what he’s doing now. They’d learn eventually and Mondo will handle it later. Later, when Taka is safely at home and Mondo can convince his gang to never, ever go after the kid again. And maybe… maybe provide a detail for him to ensure his continued safety once he gets home… after all, if he’s so foolish as to actually trust a monster like Mondo despite everything that was done to him, and despite having a police officer as a dad… well. Clearly, this kid needs protecting.

He pushes that all down yet again as he drives on, figuring the drive will take roughly twenty minutes given city traffic. He distantly allows himself to enjoy the feel of Taka’s arms around him, reveling in the sensation, but he doesn’t allow his mind to focus on it too long, for obvious reasons. It’s still nice, though. Very, very nice.

But it’s not meant to last. And before long, they are in front of a worn-down old apartment, one that even Mondo eyes critically. Taka doesn’t seem to notice his disdain and just smiles brightly at Mondo, saying that he is very grateful to him for his assistance, even going so far as to call Mondo a ‘good friend.’ Mondo can only stare with wide eyes at Taka, which clearly makes the kid nervous, as he begins to stammer that he hopes he isn’t overstepping his bounds and that he’s sorry if he had offended. Making it sound like Mondo is the one who should be offended at having Takaas a friend.

Which is… so wrong Mondo doesn’t have enough hours in a day to point it all out, so he just shakes his head quickly and states that he’d be f*cking honored to have Taka as a friend, if the kid wants him. The words make Taka beam, so bright it takes his breath away, his nod frantic once more. He also says he would like that very much, so earnest Mondo wonders if he died and this is some strange version of heaven. But like hell would he ever get into heaven after all the sh*t he’s done, so he curbs that thought. Still… it is very nice…

And still not real. That thought douses Mondo into ice cold reality, knowing that once Taka has some time to think things through and work through the trauma, he’ll want nothing to do with Mondo. Ever. Yes, he may think them friends now, but… it won’t last. Mondo has to remember that. He truly does, or else this is going to hurt so much worse than it already does…

Still. Despite that. Despite what he knows will happen and that he should avoid Taka and all thoughts about him. Despite it all. Mondo… Mondo can’t help but pull out a scrap of paper from his pocket, grabbing a pen he keeps in his side storage of his hog, and writing down his number shakily on the stained and frayed paper. Stomach alive with butterflies, he thrusts the paper towards Taka, muttering that if he ever has need of help, or if he just needs someone to talk to, he can call Mondo. And while Mondo doesn’t say it, he privately knows that he just gave Taka his personal, private number, not the number he uses for ‘business.’ Only the elite guard have his personal number. And now Taka. And now… Taka.

He feels a shot of pain shoot through him when he sees Taka’s reluctant look as he stares at the messy scrawl, thinking he f*cked this up and now Taka is mad, but then… then Taka mutters awkwardly that he doesn’t have a phone, cheeks bright red. At Mondo’s incredulous stare, he hastily explains that while his apartment does have a landline, since his father likes having a backup in case his cellphone breaks, Taka wouldn’t be able to call Mondo using it since his father checks the phone history as a precaution. And he doesn’t have a cell phone since he’s never really needed one, he’s felt. What gets Mondo the most, though, is how regretful Taka sounds while saying it, like he… like he truly is unhappy that he doesn’t have a reliable way of contacting Mondo. And while he makes sure to tell himself that this isn’t real a thousand more times, he truly wishes that it could be. That Taka truly does feel regret at not being able to talk to him again.

Perhaps it’s that that has him say it, perhaps it something else entirely, but he finds himself blurting out that Taka should still keep the number so he could call if there is an emergency, and he desperately needs someone. Mondo promises, solemn and full of grave intensity, that if Taka ever needs him, he will drop everything and be there. No matter what the need is, he stresses, needing Taka to know how serious he is. And… judging by the bright blush and the dazed look that has returned to Taka’s face… Mondo thinks the kid does.

After that, Mondo knows it’s time to go, knowing that hanging around outside the home of the police chief— chatting with the man’s clearly beaten son— is a recipe for disaster. Still, Mondo doesn’t want to leave, doesn’t want to go back to a world that Taka isn’t a part of. He knows how stupid the thought is, but as he looks into Taka’s bright red, comforting eyes… he knows that if he leaves here, he’ll be leaving behind something truly special. Something he’s been missing for years. Something… something good. Truly and fully good.

But he can’t stay. He doesn’t deserve someone like Taka, and none of this is real, besides. Taka will come out of his shock eventually and realize the error of his ways. And Mondo… Mondo deserves that. He truly, truly does.

And so… despite how much it hurts… despite the fact that he wants so desperately to never leave this perfect and stupidly trusting kid’s side… Mondo forces himself away.

With a tight smile that absolutely does not hide the pain he’s feeling, Mondo absently raises his hand in goodbye and makes his way back to his baby, claiming that he’ll see Taka around sometime, though he absolutely does not believe it. Not unless Taka is there when his father comes to arrest Mondo and his gang, that is. He doesn’t expect Taka to reply anything more than a shaky goodbye in return, maybe sounding a bit regretful like earlier, but nothing special.

That’s why he’s absolutely shocked when he feels a cool hand wrap around his wrist, not tight but firm. Mondo wheels around in shock, eyes wide as he meets Taka’s wide and yet determined ones. He listens with a distracted ear as Taka says that this entire experience has been terrifying and frightening in many, many ways, but that he does not regret meeting Mondo, as meeting him has probably been one of the best experiences of his life. He sounds so earnest and truthful that— for a moment— Mondo almost forgets that it’s not real and almost believes that he could deserve this. And then he… he can only watch, heart pounding out of his chest, when… when Taka leans forward and… a-and…

Kisses his cheek…

Cheeks on fire, Mondo dumbly watches Taka hastily back away, feeling bereft as the kid’s hand leaves his wrist, absolutely dumbfounded and maybe a little turned on. It doesn’t help that Taka’s face is bright red again, and that there’s a small, somewhat pleased looking smile as Taka says lowly that he hopes they will meet again one day, as he would truly hate to never see Mondo again. And Mondo— brain offline and mouth moving without his consent— says that if Taka uses that number, he will.

With that exchange said, Mondo knows it’s time to leave before he spontaneously combusts. He knows that he is well and truly f*cked, so gone for Taka that it’s kind of pathetic, like a grade schooler with his first crush. It should embarrass the hell out of him that he’s acting so foolish for someone he’s known less than half a day.

But as he finally mounts his hog and looks over his shoulder at Taka, seeing the sad smile on his lips and his hand raised in a final goodbye… he realizes it doesn’t. Embarrass him. Like hell would anything have ever worked out between them, their worlds are much too different, but… it was nice, for one evening, to pretend.

He raises his hand in a final farewell, grinning widely at the enchanting kid he had the absolute fortune to meet, and then he’s gone. Driving a bit faster than the speed limit, Mondo peels out of the small parking lot and onto the city streets, heart aching as he leaves the kid behind.

And as he heads back to his hideout, knowing he’ll have to explain to the guys what happened… he has a small hope that he can’t crush, no matter what, that maybe… maybe Taka will call someday. That this— whatever this is— was real. That it wasn’t only him who felt the connection.

It’s ridiculous. And stupid. And absurd.

And yet…

And yet.

~~~ (time skip!)

More than two months have passed since that day in the gang hideout, and yet Taka has forgotten nothing of the encounter. He hasn’t forgotten the pain or the fear, and his nose only just stopped hurting a few weeks ago, but he… he definitely hasn’t forgotten the rest, either. Meeting Mondo. Talking to him. The weird fluttering in his chest whenever they spoke. The desire he’d felt when Mondo had looked at him. The yearning inside that only grew brighter and brighter as the minutes passed. No… no, he’s not forgotten anything.

Nor does he want to. While he can concede that the kidnapping and the torture were not at all something he enjoyed or would ever want to do again, he can’t deny that he doesn’t regret meeting Mondo. Doesn’t regret their conversations, or the gentleness and trust Mondo showed towards him. He doesn’t regret it one bit.

After Mondo had left him outside his apartment, Taka had stood there in a daze for what felt like hours, his lips tingling with the phantom sensation of rough stubble underneath them, mind racing with thoughts and feelings. He’d been exhausted, since he’d not had a good night’s rest in days, but he’d not been able to force himself from that spot for a very long time.

Eventually he had shaken himself out of it and had climbed the stairs to his and his father’s shared apartment, stopping at the front door abruptly when he realized that he didn’t have his keys anymore. One of his kidnappers had taken it with his clothes earlier that day, so he’d been stuck standing outside his apartment, the night air a bit chilly around him.

His father had eventually arrived home from work, his eyes widening immediately upon seeing Taka’s ragged state. He’d started to ask Taka a million questions about what happened, but Taka had tiredly asked if they could just enter the apartment and he could tell his father later, as he was very tired. His father had stared at him with intense concern for a minute, before hurrying him inside, saying that they would be talking about this once Taka woke. Taka had absently agreed and headed straight for his small bedroom, passing out the second his head hit the pillow, despite all the aches and pains he had been feeling.

Morning was better, thankfully, and he’d stumbled out of bed with a tentative plan of action. His father was still home despite how he usually would have been gone by the time Taka awoke. When he asked, the man said that he called out that day, since he needed to ensure that Taka was okay. It made him feel a swell of affection for his father, but he knew he couldn’t tell the man the truth. While part of him wondered why, since he barely knew the man, he knew he couldn’t betray Mondo. Not after all he’d done for him.

And so, he’d told his father that he’d fallen down some stairs, which had led to his disheveled state. He inferred from the way his father spoke the night before that the man hadn’t noticed his three-day absence, which Taka understood. With his busy work schedule, it wouldn’t have surprised him if his father hadn’t even come home at all during those days, maybe even sleeping in his office at the precinct like he’s done numerous times before. So, all he had to do was come up with an explanation for the injuries and not the missing time.

He could tell that his father didn’t believe him, as the man kept asking more and more questions, but while Taka is usually a horrid liar, he’d been adamant this time. He fell down some stairs, causing him to break his nose and bruise his ribs. It was a plausible story, a simple one, and eventually his father begrudgingly accepted it. He knows his father still didn’t believe him, but Taka can be very stubborn when he wants to be, so he figures his father just accepted it for both of their peace of mind.

He had been very anxious about having to explain to his father how he’d lost not only his clothes and shoes, but his keys, bag, wallet, and all of his other daily possessions, knowing that saying such a thing would only immediately bring the suspicion back, though he knew he’d have to eventually. However, he’d not had to worry about that long, as that problem had been solved the very next day.

Taka had been on his way back from the library— where he had a part time job for the break— wearing an old pair of dress shoes since his boots were MIA, when he’d seen a fairly large package sitting on his welcome mat that was addressed to him. Confused, he’d brought the thing inside and entered his room, where he immediately set about opening the box curiously. He’d never had a package addressed to him before, so it was honestly a little exciting.

And then he’d felt his heart stutter in his chest when he’d seen all of his things neatly placed inside, even his wallet (with more yen inside than he’d left it, he later realized), keys, and clothes. The clothes had even been freshly laundered— the stains and tears mended too— and his boots had been shined. It had overwhelmed him for a minute, tears falling down his cheeks as he touched the things he’d thought were lost forever, the few personal items he had to his name.

It was then that he’d noticed the note tucked in the bottom of the box, almost like whoever placed it there didn’t want it to be found. But it had been, and the words written inside…

‘Thought you’d like your things back. Take care.’

That was it. No signature, nothing. But Taka had immediately recognized the writing as the same as the one on the piece of paper he had stored inside the box that he keeps his most treasured possessions. And he knew exactly who had brought him his belongings back. It had been a bit more overwhelming than he’d care to admit.

With that crisis solved, Taka had focused on getting back into the swing of his everyday life. While his father may not have noticed his absence, his boss and coworkers had, and to his surprise they were all worried about him when they saw his bruises and broken nose.

He’d quickly told them the same thing he told his father, claiming to his boss that he was sorry he’d not called and informed her of his absence, but that he’d been doing his best to heal and hadn’t thought to make the call. The elderly woman had immediately told him it was fine and that he didn’t have to worry about it, even offering to give him the rest of the week off— paid— so he can take care of himself and heal properly. That had also been overwhelming, and he’d had to fight back tears as he explained that he wanted to work, since he hates inactivity. It had taken a little convincing, but she’d agreed to let him work, though she kept a close eye on him for weeks after, still watching even after the worst of his wounds healed.

The days had been hard, though, and the nights even harder. Even after his body stopped aching so badly, he couldn’t help but prod at the pain in his mind. And he doesn’t even mean the pain of having pretty much been tortured and starved for two days. But… the pain of being away from Mondo.

Taka isn’t stupid. Right? Even while it had all been occurring, Taka had wondered if what he was feeling was real. If he actually cared so much about this ragged biker that he’d met under the worst of circumstances mere hours before. It had all seemed so farfetched and fantastical to him that part of him had been waiting the entire time for the other shoe to drop. For Mondo to suddenly yell ‘ha! Gotcha!’ and change on a dime. He doesn’t know why he’d told the biker his home address knowing how stupid it was, but he’d felt so tired and so alone at that moment that he hadn’t even seriously considered the danger involved in telling Mondo his home. Where he and his father— the chief of police— lived.

He’d realized it later, though. The next day, his heart and mind racing with every that had happened. And despite the buoyancy he still felt when he thought of the biker gang leader, he’d also felt trepidation and a hint of fear at the thought of Mondo using the information against him, spending the entire first day panicking silently to himself. And part of the next day.

But then he’d gotten the package. And then a week passed. And then two. And then a month. And then a second month. And at no point at all did Taka face any possible retaliation from Mondo. No hint of gangs loitering around his apartment or harassing his father. Nothing.

Well… not nothing, actually. Because sometimes… sometimes, on odd days, there would be a package left at his front door addressed to him, with no return label. He’d bring the box to his room with a racing heart and open it, finding a random assortment of goods each time. Sometimes they were sweets, like fine chocolate or assorted traditional mochi with sweet and savory fillings. Other times they’d be practical items, such as a fancy notebook or a nice fountain pen. And sometimes… sometimes, there would be DVDs in the box, for movies he’d always heard about but never seen. Receipts would accompany each box, proving the items were paid for Taka assumes, though there would never be a note, no matter how hard Taka looked. And oh, how he looked.

He knows who sends the boxes, though. Of course he does. He’s never had anyone who would send him things, and given that there’s no return address or stamps, he knows the boxes were delivered in person. Plus, they always mysteriously arrived on days he would get home from work before his father, though that’s a little less impressive considering how often such a thing is the case. And finally… the writing on the box is the same as from the note and from the phone number. Which is the most damning evidence, really.

Part of him thinks that he should find it creepy that a criminal biker is sending him gifts, but strangely, he doesn’t. Especially not when he remembers Mondo’s muttered comment after Taka had remarked that he had never been given a gift before. Instead it just makes him feel… warm. And remembered. And appreciated.

It also reminds him of the number Mondo had given him, which he has long since memorized. It makes his heart pound to think of, recalling the moment he’d been given the number with complete clarity. Part of him longs to call just to hear Mondo’s voice and talk to him again, but part of him is afraid to do that. What if… what if Mondo doesn’t want that? Or if he gets annoyed at Taka calling for a non-emergency, even if Mondo had told him he could? Or if it turns out it has all been a big hoax and Mondo doesn’t actually want to be friends with him? While the gifts say otherwise, his lifelong rejection from every possible friend says yes.

So, he hasn’t. Called. Every time he’s headed to the pay phone at the end of the street, intent on calling, he’d get nervous and chicken out. This has happened no less than twenty times, with it once happening twice in one day. Taka wants to call, truly he does! He’s just… scared.

But today. Today, he has decided that no matter what… he will call. Even if Mondo doesn’t pick up, or if he doesn’t respond, or if he rejects him… he has to call today.

It’s his 20th birthday, after all. And while his father had planned on doing something special today, taking Taka out to a restaurant they could only barely afford, the man had unfortunately been called into work for an emergency. Leaving Taka alone in his room, his chest aching fiercely with loneliness. He doesn’t blame his father for leaving, no! But… it hurts sitting in this room alone, thinking so desperately of one person, fearing rejection but thinking that just this once… the potential reward would be worth the risk.

It’s still hard for him to force his legs to move. To stand up, hold his weight, and make the trip to the nearest pay phone. His heart races at just the thought of it, but he knows he’s being ridiculous. He is not a quitter and he’s never run from anything in his life. Yes, perhaps Mondo will reject him, but… he has to at least try.

After about half an hour of useless deliberation, Taka is finally able to force himself to stand and march out of his apartment. His legs are shaking horribly, the shaking getting worse and worse the closer he gets to the pay phone, but he refuses to stop.

Finally, he reaches the pay phone and hesitates only a second before he’s putting his yen in and dialing the number he’s long since memorized. His heart is racing fast as he hears the phone ring, his mind blank. Part of him wishes that Mondo won’t answer, so that he can just leave a message and leave it at that.

But that hope is dashed when he hears someone pick up the phone, and then a familiar voice is sounding, though Taka is far too tense to comprehend the words said to him. It takes him a moment to realize he’s not taken a breath since he arrived at the pay phone and his lungs are screaming at him in protest. He manages to take a huge inhale of breath, though he’s still feeling very nervous and almost afraid. Not of Mondo, no, no. But… of himself. That he’ll ruin this like he’s always ruined everything. That Mondo will realize how uninteresting and worthless he is and won’t want to talk to him. That… that what happened two months ago was just a fluke, that it wasn’t real, and that Mondo wouldn’t want to get that back.

Finally, after another moment passes, he hears the voice call again, worry thick within it. And Taka is finally able to comprehend what the voice is saying.

“Taka…? Is, uh… is that you? Not many people have this number, so, uh… sh*t. Are ya alright, man? D’ya… d’ya need me ta come get ya or somethin’? ‘Cuz I can if ya want… uh… sh*t, is this Taka? Uh… if ya could say somethin’, that would be, ya know… appreciated…”

That jolts Taka out of his daze and he finds himself stammering out a greeting, his cheeks red again. He hears Mondo let out a small laugh, greeting him with so much unbridled affection that it makes Taka’s chest ache. Before he can force the lump in his throat down, Mondo continues, his voice a lot more serious and concerned as he asks him again if he needs help, if he’s hurt, if he needs Mondo to drive out to him. The questions almost overwhelm Taka, making him feel terrible for worrying the biker for something so simple, so stupid. But he can’t just hang up now, not without worrying Mondo more.

And so, voice trembling, he assures Mondo that no, nothing is wrong, he’s okay and doesn’t need assistance. His throat gets thick again before he can explain his actual reason for calling, forcing him to peter out awkwardly, his heart racing painfully in his chest. He then hears Mondo speak again, his voice soft and soothing as he reassures Taka that it’s okay, he doesn’t have to be nervous, it’s all fine, and Taka can tell him why he called if he wants, but if his reason is that he just wanted to talk, that’s fine too. That almost makes Taka more nervous, but he swallows it down and pushes forward.

Voice still trembling, Taka explains haltingly that it’s his 20th birthday and he has found himself unfortunately alone. His father is working, and he never has had any friends, and he was wondering if Mondo wanted to… to hang out. Or something. Taka gets nervous around then and begins babbling that Mondo doesn’t have to if he doesn’t want to, that he’s okay being alone, he’s been alone most his life so it’s fine. He would hate to impose upon Mondo and if he’s busy he understands completely and he isn’t entirely sure why he called, he hates being a bother, he’s sorry, he-

Mondo cuts him off around then, his voice soft with something almost fond deep in the tone, mixed with something that sounds sad. Mondo says that he’d be honored to spend Taka’s birthday with him, since Taka had helped make his birthday one of the best he’s ever had, and he could only hope to return the favor. The honest words make Taka’s face flush even hotter, his breath shaky and his heart clenched.

Taka shakily agrees and makes plans for Mondo to meet him outside his apartment, since his father isn’t there anyway. Mondo promises that he’ll be there in twenty before hanging up with a warm ‘see ya soon, Taka.’

Taka walks back to his apartment in a daze, and once he gets there, he takes a heavy seat on the front stoop, wringing his hands anxiously. He’s incidentally dressed in the same outfit he’d worn the day he’d been kidnapped, his usual white suit and red tie that he always wears when at university and his internship and doesn’t bother to change out of during break. This suit has numerous stitches in it, and it doesn’t look very professional anymore, but he can’t help but like it regardless. He hadn’t consciously put it on this morning, but… well.

It feels like both a second and a millennium have passed when he hears the unfamiliar roar of a motorcycle pull up before him. His head whips up instantly, heart racing, a gasp escaping his lips when he sees a now familiar person straddling the powerful vehicle.

Scrambling up and over to the bike (he knows Mondo doesn’t like him calling it that, but he dislikes calling it a ‘hog,’ so they’ll just have to agree to disagree), he tries to think of what to say, what to do, but finds himself coming up blank.

Luckily, Mondo breaks the silence by clearing his throat and awkwardly asking what Taka wants to do. Unluckily, Taka has no idea whatsoever. He hadn’t really expected Mondo to actually show up, to be honest, so he isn’t sure what to do now that he’s here. He feels very awkward and regretful as he tells Mondo this, and then he apologizes softly for wasting the biker’s time, sure that Mondo will be mad at him for making him come all this way for nothing.

However… to his absolute shock, Mondo doesn’t get upset. Or even slightly unhappy. Instead, all he does is hum, tilt his head, and ask Taka if he likes going to the park. When Taka stammers that yes, he loves the park, Mondo grins and tilts his head towards his bike, clearly indicating that Taka should get on. Which he then verbalizes, telling Taka that he knows the perfect place for them to go.

Taka is only a little reluctant, not wanting to ride without a helmet (while he’d surprisingly enjoyed the last ride with Mondo, he would never have wanted to do it sans helmet), but to his surprise yet again, Mondo unclips something from his bike and hands it to Taka. It takes him a second to realize it’s a helmet. But he can tell immediately that it’s not the same helmet as the last time. This one is bright red, for one thing, and looks to be a bit bigger. When Taka looks at Mondo in question, the biker sheepishly mentions that he’d gotten Taka a new helmet on the offside chance they ever met up again, this one being a size bigger, which Mondo guessed would fit better.

The idea that Mondo cared enough to get him his own helmet, just for his own comfort flusters Taka greatly, and he feels the stirring in his heart he’d first felt two months ago and hasn’t stopped since. He’s never felt so much for another person before and it’s making him feel very flushed. Especially when he catches sight of the gentle smile Mondo has on his lips, his eyes like liquid silver as he looks at him. It… it’s very nice, though…

After a moment of stunned silence, Taka shakily puts the helmet on, noticing immediately that it fits much, much better. He then carefully gets on the bike behind Mondo, the process a lot easier now that he knows sort of what he’s doing. And now that his ribs aren’t aching fiercely, of course.

Once he’s mounted, Mondo waits a moment while Taka gets comfortable, before telling Taka he’s going to move, Taka nodding his consent. He still feels a bit terrified when the bike begins moving, but at least this time he doesn’t scream like a child. He just holds tight to Mondo, moving his body with the biker’s, both enjoying the ride and also kind of hating it. It does wonders to help calm his nerves about inviting Mondo over to ‘hang out’, though.

They arrive at Mondo’s mystery location about half an hour later, Taka looking eagerly at the decent sized park he’s never been to before. As Mondo parks, Taka looks at the green fields and the groups of families and friends that walk around, enjoying the last day before the school semester starts up again. Taka has never really celebrated his birthday, considering his father’s busy schedule and his perpetual lack of friends. Not to mention how it always occurs the day before the first day of the fall quarter, leaving it a bit forgettable. But as he stands here with Mondo, looking at the busy park before him… for the first time, he almost feels happy it’s his birthday. If only because it gives him the excuse to enjoy Mondo’s highly pleasing company again.

Mondo gently touches Taka’s hand to draw him back to reality, which Taka does with a smile. Mondo begins to chat about random things as they start to move through the park, like he had the previous time, and the conversation feels as easy to Taka now as it did back then, putting him immediately at ease. During the drive, the anxiety and fear Taka had been feeling had waned, and now all he can feel is happiness and brightness, excitement filling him at whatever it is Mondo has planned for them.

They meander through the park for a bit, and at one point Mondo mentions that Daiya used to take him here when he was little, the pair playing and rough housing whilst on the fields. They even brought their late dog— Chuck, an incredibly smart Maltese that Mondo is still adorably fond of, Taka learns— here all the time for his walks.

After a while their wandering takes them past an ice cream stand and Mondo asks Taka if he’d like one. Taka declines with a stammer, insisting that he couldn’t possibly impose on Mondo like that, though he greatly appreciates the offer.

Mondo, though, just snorts and deadpans that it’s really not an issue to buy a ‘f*ckin’ ice cream.’ Taka wrinkles his nose at the vulgarity, but after a bit of back and forth, Mondo finally pointing out it’s literally his birthday, Taka finally concedes and asks for a vanilla ice cream, since it’s his favorite flavor. Something about that makes Mondo laugh, and Taka is afraid at first that he’s laugh at him, a measure of hurt rising within him at the thought. But then he sees the softness in Mondo’s eyes when he looks at him, the gentle tilt to his lips, and Taka realizes that no. Mondo isn’t making fun of him. He just… finds it funny, he supposes.

They reach the front of the line before Mondo can say anything, and Taka just listens as the biker orders himself a chocolate soft serve ice cream with sprinkles, mini gummy bears, and a cherry on top, before he orders Taka the exact same but in vanilla. Seeing Taka’s displeased pout at the biker ordering more than a simple ice cream for him, Mondo smirks and gently nudges Taka’s shoulder with his, saying that Taka should learn to take it easy sometime. Live a little. Enjoy the small things.

“Like vanilla ice cream with sprinkles, mini gummy bears, and a cherry on top?” Taka questions skeptically.

Mondo smiles, bright and happy and clear, taking Taka’s breath away.

“Hell yeah man! Exactly like vanilla ice cream with sprinkles, mini gummy bears, an’ a f*ckin’ cherry on the g*dd*mn top. Now enjoy yer g*dd*mn ice cream, ya g*dd*mn nerd.”

The vender gives them their respective ice creams before Taka can reply back with a witty rejoinder. Though perhaps that’s for the better, because Taka’s brain is currently offline as butterflies erupt in his stomach. During their last encounter, Taka hadn’t been able to escape the nagging thought that— despite the unfortunate circumstances they’d found themselves meeting under— parts of it had felt almost like… well… a date. And it had been ridiculous at the time, they’d barely known one another, and they did have the unfortunate circumstances surrounding their meeting. But still… he’d not been able to push it away no matter how hard he tried.

But now? Right now, holding onto a quickly melting ice cream as Mondo begins talking about his childhood with his brother, detailing how much they always enjoyed getting ice cream and wandering about on a hot summer day like this one? The feeling of this feels like a dateincreases by a tenfold and Taka is left reeling on how to continue on without making a complete fool of himself.

Because… well. He can’t lie to himself. He likes Mondo. A lot. It’s not quite infatuation and definitely not love, but it… it’s the start of something. Something he thinks could be very nice if they let it.

However, he tells himself forcefully, he doesn’t even know if Mondo is into guys that way. And even if he is, there is no guarantee he’d be into Taka specifically. Taka isn’t exactly the easiest person to get along with, he knows. He’s very opinionated and likes things to go his way exactly. And while he’s been trying to not do it with Mondo, he knows that once he gets started, he can talk for hours nonstop about certain topics that interest him, like politics or ethics or morality. And he’s been told so many times that it’s annoying and aggravating, so he just… he knows he’s not an easy person to get close to. Even if the thought hurts. And oh… does it hurt…

During Taka’s distraction, the pair had still been walking, and it isn’t until they arrive that Taka realizes Mondo had had a destination in mind. But as they reach the mid-sized pond that is bracketed by trees with a bridge that goes over it, with koi fish in the water and ducks floating leisurely atop it, Taka is forced to stop his restless worries and focus solely on the beauty before him.

After a minute of awed staring, Taka hears Mondo chuckle warmly, before a warm hand brushes the back of the hand not holding the small amount of ice cream that he still had left. Taka turns to face Mondo then and sees a warm and tender look on the biker’s face, making him look much younger than he usually does. It makes Taka’s heart squeeze to see, the baffling affection nearly overwhelming him. He can only hope his face isn’t completely betraying him, but knowing his luck…

Either way, Mondo doesn’t mention it and instead just places his hand on Taka’s mid-back to direct him towards an empty bench before the pond so they can watch the koi and ducks swim together for a bit. Taka ignores the racing of his heart and smiles shakily as he follows Mondo, his back tingling not unpleasantly.

They sit beside one another on the relatively small bench, so close they’re almost touching, but not quite. It drives Taka up the wall, his skin prickling with goose flesh and shivers each time either of them moves. It’s quiet between them, Mondo happily finishing his ice cream cone as he watches the ducks swim lazily by, and Taka has to admit that it’s nice. Very nice. Nicer than anything else has ever been in his life, save for every limited interaction he’s had with the biker.

It feels too good to be true, honestly. All of it. That someone like Mondo would willingly want to spend time with someone like him. Even discounting his unfortunate habit of being overly blunt and borderline rude at times, he is probably the textbook definition of a ‘goody two-shoes,’ while Mondo is the textbook definition of a ‘bad boy.’ Not that he thinks Mondo is bad! Not at all! Just… his demeanor and profession. The two don’t really seem to have much in common. Even their special interests are divergent, though Taka finds himself strangely captivated by how enthusiastic Mondo is about all of the things he enjoys. But just… why, he has to wonder? Why did he give him his number back then, and why… why did he show up to meet him today? Just… why?

Unable to hold the question in any longer, Taka blurts it out, no decorum at all, and he feels his cheeks flood with his mortification at his lack of social grace. However, Mondo still doesn’t seem to mind. He just hums thoughtfully, clearly mulling it over seriously. That’s another thing Taka really likes about Mondo, he thinks pensively to himself. The biker always seems to take the things Taka says seriously, not dismissing them out of hand as something irrelevant, like so many other people do. It feels… nice. Like he’s actually being seen and heard for once. It’s strange but… but nice.

But then Mondo is talking, his voice musing and contemplative. And Taka… he isn’t really sure what to make of it.

“Huh. Why did I show up? I mean… I dunno, man. Ya called. An’ I said I’d come if ya called, didn’t I? An’ ‘sides. Yer, uh… sh*t, I dunno. Nice ta talk ta or somethin’ like that. Let me f*ckin’ ramble ‘bout random *ss bullsh*t, not seemin’ ta mind. An’…” Mondo pauses here, seeming to collect his thoughts. After a few moments, he continues. “I dunno. You, uh… ya were the first person ta really say ya believed I could actu’ly be a f*ckin’ carpenter… ya know? Never got ‘round ta tellin’ Dai ‘bout that ‘fore he, uh… y-ya know. An’ like hell could I tell that sh*t ta the gang. They’d think I’d gotten weak or somethin’. In fact, think yer the first person I ever told I even was interested in woodwork ta begin with. So… sh*t. I really don’t know, man. Just… s’easy ta talk ta ya, I guess. Kinda f*cked up when ya think ‘bout it, considerin’ how we met an’ all, so I try not ta. Think ‘bout it. An’… an’ if ya like talkin’ ta me, too, then… heh. I dunno. Works out. I guess. ‘Less ya don’t like talkin’ ta me… uh… in which case I can always stop… heh…”

The mumbled words make Taka’s chest ache even more then, and tears start to fill his eyes despite himself. This worries Mondo a lot and the biker immediately starts back tracking and trying to rectify things. Taka cuts him off before he can get too impassioned, though, and explains that he’s not crying because he’d upset, but that he’s just a little overwhelmed. Because… because he likes talking to Mondo, too. And he’s just not used to people actually enjoying his company.

That seems to upset Mondo, as the biker is now frowning at him, eyebrows furrowed and eyes full of an emotion Taka can’t begin to explain. And then Mondo says that it’s their loss, as he finds talking to Taka to be quite enjoyable, and his company is more than appreciated too. It overwhelms Taka again and this time a couple tears slip out, to his intense mortification. Thankfully Mondo doesn’t mention it. He just smiles at him gently before looking away over the pond, the silence between them strangely not awkward or tense, but instead soothing and peaceful. Tranquil. It’s honestly so, so nice…

Minutes pass in their silent reveries, their ice creams long finished but still remaining in place.

Finally, after what Taka estimates is about five minutes pass, he hears Mondo talk again. And this time, his voice is very soft. Softer than before, even. So soft it takes Taka a second to decipher the fact that Mondo had just mentioned quietly that he’s been thinking more and more about quitting the gang recently. About retiring and moving on with his life. He isn’t entirely sure what he’ll do next, as he knows he doesn’t have the skills needed to go directly into carpentry— even if he didn’t have a criminal record— and all of his contacts and connections are related to the gang in some way or another. For over a decade, all he’s known has been his gang. What is he without it, Mondo wonders aloud, his tone wistful and a little scared.

It makes Taka feel deeply for Mondo, and while he’s never been the best at comfort, he knows roughly the mechanics of it. And he knows he wants to try. So, despite his misgivings as to his comfort abilities, he hesitantly rests a hand on Mondo’s shoulder and states that if Mondo really wants to do something new with his life and is willing to put in the effort, then Taka knows he will be able to do it. And… Taka hesitates here for a second, before plowing on and saying that if Mondo needs help, that Taka will be more than willing to provide assistance. While Taka doesn’t really know much about carpentry either, he knows that his father has a lot of connections thanks to being the police chief, and that he may be able to help Mondo find cheap courses that teach woodworking and carpentry, if Mondo would like.

Mondo stares at Taka for several seconds in stunned silence, before muttering that he doesn’t have to do that, that Mondo doesn’t want to inconvenience Taka more than he has. Taka just smiles in response, shaking his head firmly. Then he says that he likes helping people, and that if he could help Mondo out in any way, then he would be honored.

Taka then pauses again, before blushing brightly. He visibly debates what he wants to say, but ultimately decides on saying it. Hesitantly and very awkwardly, Taka then offers to allow Mondo to stay with him in his apartment he rents using his scholarship and internship money near his university, about an hour away from their hometown, if he needs a place to stay that isn’t with his gang. He hastily says that it’s only a one bedroom, but that the couch is a pullout, and that Taka wouldn’t mind if he wanted to stay. While he tries to disguise it, Taka can’t quite force down the hope and eagerness of his offer. He doesn’t even know why he is so keen on the idea, he barely knows Mondo besides, but… something about it seems right to Taka. Plus… he does always love to help people…

At first, Taka is sure that Mondo will reject him out of hand. He can see the hesitation on Mondo’s face, so clear that even Taka has no problem recognizing it. But before Taka has a chance to take back the offer and stammer out something to make things less awkward, he hears Mondo softly ask if Taka truly means that, saying that he barely knows Mondo and what little he does know can’t be good.

Taka rejects that idea, though, shaking his head firmly again. He ignores all his uncertainties for the moment and says that the things he has heard about Mondo don’t matter, as hearsay is very rarely accurate. After all, there are many people who claim that Taka is a fraud and a sham, that his efforts in morality and ethics are lies, when Taka knows for certain they are not. And besides. While they’ve only known one another for two partial days, Taka likes to think himself a good judge of character. And he… he thinks Mondo is a good person who deserves to have a second chance. A fresh start if you will. A way to get away from his old life if he so chooses.

Taka then says that it doesn’t have to be a permanent solution, that Mondo can stay with him temporarily until he finds something better. And that the offer is always there if Mondo wants it.

Mondo seems a bit overwhelmed at the kind offer, as he spends a full minute staring out at the pond, hands twitching slightly at his sides. Taka jumps a little when he feels Mondo grab his hand, but he doesn’t pull away. He just turns to face Mondo with wide eyes, and watches in stunned silence as Mondo leans closer and closer slowly. His eyes seem to be telling Taka something, but Taka has no idea what, as frozen as his brain feels. He still doesn’t pull back, though, as a strange sort of anticipation rises within him. And then… then…

Mondo stops about a millimeter from his face, eyes bright and captivating. Taka has one second to realize what is about to happen when… when…

Mondo kisses him.

It’s sweet. And gentle. And is barely a kiss at all, just a brush of lips, but it’s far more than Taka has ever had, and he’s fairly certain he’s forgotten how to breathe, honestly.

After a moment, Mondo pulls back, Taka’s eyes opening back up (he doesn’t recall closing them, but clearly, he must have, he thinks in a daze) and seeing the hesitant look on Mondo’s face.

“That change yer mind?” Mondo asks him breathily, his words shaking and weak. And Taka… his brain is still very sluggish, but he knows what his answer will be.

“No, Mondo… n-not at all…”

Mondo begins to smile brightly then. It starts off small before consuming his entire face, his eyes shining with it. It makes Taka feel bolder than he ever has before, and before he can talk himself out of it, he’s leaning forward and pressing a soft— if a bit clumsy— kiss to Mondo’s lips in return. Pulling back a hair, Taka shyly confesses that he’s been dreaming about doing that for a while now. Just as shy, Mondo laughs and confesses that he has, too.

But then Mondo is sighing, pulling away from Taka completely and looking back out over the pond, a pensive look on his face. The expression makes Taka nervous, but he says nothing as he also looks out over the pond, fidgeting with his hands.

After a while, Mondo starts to talk again, his voice soft and shaky as he claims this whole situation is ‘kinda f*cked, ain’t it?’ They met while Taka was kidnapped all because of Mondo and his lifestyle. How on earth could they ever have anything more than that, after how they first met? Is such a thing even possible?

Taka contemplates the question, biting his lip anxiously. After a few moments of thought, Taka hesitantly replies that he doesn’t think the way they met should matter. No, he can’t say it was a particularly good time for him, but he knows himself well enough. If what he was feeling was just manufactured due to that situation, he doesn’t think it would feel so real. But honestly, he doesn’t know. Maybe he’s wrong. Maybe this is all manufactured emotion due to a bad situation. But… wouldn’t it be worth it to at least try? To see if something could work out between them?

Mondo contemplates that for a while, the pair staring out at the pond in shared silence. Taka is nervous about Mondo’s reply, he has no idea what any of this even means, but he… he’s willing to find out. If Mondo wants to as well… he’s more than willing to find out.

Finally, long minutes later, Mondo speaks. He gives one firm nod of his head and claims that, you know what? Why not. Why not try. It will take him a little while to get all of his affairs in order, but that if Taka wants to try and is willing to help… then why not? Mondo doesn’t have any active warrants out for his arrest, and he’s been training his new second in command for a couple years now, and he thinks the kid is ready to take over fully. He… he could get out, Mondo says softly, his expression a bit lost, but also a bit excited. Taka hesitantly grabs his hand, and Mondo twines their fingers together, smiling at him hopefully.

Taka doesn’t know where this all is going to lead. If there will be a happy ending for the two of them or not. He doesn’t know if they will work out, or if their emotions are false after all. He has no clue whatsoever what is going to happen next.

What he does know, though, he thinks as he looks at Mondo— who is smiling softly back at him, his lavender eyes liquid soft, his expression so tender it makes him ache… what he does know is that he is more than willing to try. To try this thing out. To help Mondo get away from his past and help him move towards the future. There are no guarantees in life, and their situation is a very unique and shaky one. But… but god, is he willing to try.

And at the end of the day…

He supposes that’s all that matters.

THE END.

~~~

(Okay, so I'd been working on a kind of epilogue for this, but I never got around to finishing it before things got really busy for me. But I want this out in the world, so... here you all go! A mini epilogue.)

Mondo’s POV:

It’s several years later and it is made clear that Mondo and Taka have been together for a while. Taka is hurrying around their room trying to get dressed in a fancy suit and tie, frazzled over something, while Mondo watches on fondly. After a minute of this, Mondo saunters over to Taka and wraps his arms around him tightly, muttering that it’s okay. They have over an hour until the party. It’s okay.

Taka sighs heavily, tension still within him, but fading as he holds Mondo in return, resting his head on Mondo’s broad chest. The pair stay like that for several minutes, just existing together.

Mondo muses about their relationship, about how it has progressed over the years. How it wasn’t easy at first and how living together made their tentative relationship a lot more complicated. But eventually they made it work. Taka was able to find Mondo some relatively inexpensive carpentry classes, and Mondo found he truly adored the art. He’d always figured he would, as he secretly loved watching those house building shows on TV, but he hadn’t realized just how much he would love working with wood. He was also good at it, to his extreme shock, and within a year he’d been able to find work at a small carpentry shop not too far from where Taka was staying.

Taka was always very supportive of his dream and spent many nights listening patiently as Mondo would ramble on and on about the things that he learned that day, or the things he made. The apartment they shared (Mondo insisting he pay for half after he stayed there for free for a month) was soon full of Mondo’s projects, Taka so proud of Mondo and all he achieved. Mondo is even currently building them a house to live in together, the pair having bought the land earlier that year.

Mondo was supportive with Taka, too, always willing to listen when Taka would express frustration at his internship with the local city council. Taka was often unhappy with how slow the system worked, wishing he could do more to help people and that he didn’t have to worry about bureaucracy all the time. Mondo would mostly listen and hum in commiseration whenever Taka would get on one of his rants, but a couple times he’d distract Taka from his troubles by kissing him sweetly, something he learned early on was a very effective distraction. As the years passed, Taka moved up in the city government and now has a fairly high position where he can do a lot more good for the general populace, though it was still very taxing on Taka. And as such, Mondo’s means of distraction got a lot less chaste, he thinks with a smirk.

Their relationship, Mondo contemplates, has always been a strange one, honestly. Especially at first. They never really spoke about it or their growing feelings those first several months. They just… kept going and learned as they went. There had been some bumps and hiccups here and there, some fights that seemed inevitable at the time but that probably could have been prevented in retrospect, but for the most part… they just worked. It would often baffle Mondo, the idea that they could work so seamlessly despite being so different on the surface, but he never really questioned it. Why look a gift horse in the mouth, right? As the years passed, they grew closer and closer, and at one point they started calling one another ‘kareshi,’ never really talking about it but knowing that it felt right. They moved into a bigger apartment together, began making financial and life decisions together, and throughout it all, they remained happy together.

All in all, things aren’t perfect for them. They have their problems like any couple does. For one, Taka’s father is still not exactly pleased at their relationship, but he’d given up trying to break them up years ago, to both Taka and Mondo’s relief. For another, their personalities are honestly very similar despite the differences on the surface, and that sometimes leads to some epic bumping of heads. But that doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things, does it? Not when— more often than not— they are very, very happy together. Happier than either of them ever expected they’d be. Mondo has even been contemplating buying Taka a ring, though it still is not legal for two men to marry in Japan. Just… as a promise. To show Taka he wants that. That even though their relationship progressed unconventionally… he still wants it.

Mondo pulls back from his embrace with Taka, smiling when Taka lets out a soft whine of displeasure. To placate him, Mondo kisses Taka gently, even though they need to get going soon.

[d-targaryenshoe]

Falling, Fallen • Jackson Avery

Notes: I'm a huge softie for Jackson Avery. Don't @ me. And I had this idea since forever 🥺

Summary: Y/N is Jackson Avery's wife and decides to ignore her husband's good advice.

Warnings: needles, medical terms

Word Count: 1891

Jackson Avery. Someone who gave you a lot of heartache back in the days. Watching him love a few woman.

Then seeing him gave one of your best friends a love speech and running away with her from her own wedding.

Those moments were the most hurting times, but when the both of them needed help it was you who would be there for them. Because you knew in the end they were still your friends.

Although your feelings never went away. You still secretly loved him, but your mouth was muted. You didn't want to ruin what they had.

But a single talk together with Alex Karev made words fly around in the O.R and into the ears of Jackson Avery. Which made your secret not so much of a secret anymore.

After 6 months You were living together. Then a year after the two of you got married but now a year and a half you were waiting for the worst pain ever. Called labor.

Pregnancy. Something you thought you were not going to experience anytime soon. But yet you were experiencing it. Anytime as you were sitting on the couch in April Kepner's couch.

"You're all round and almost popping, you should be in laying bed, not sitting in my couch Y/N." The ginger female sighed, placing a pillow behind your back. "Pregnancy is not a joke."

April was the most worried friend you had. Although you never expected her to be this okay with you and Jackson being together. Because you knew how much he meant to her.

"I'm going crazy in that penthouse just waiting for a single sound to make me feel alive." Caressing your belly, you leaned your head back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling.

"Says the 40 week far pregnant woman, who's most likely to have a baby today or tomorrow." April raised an eyebrow at you while she placed both of her hands on your belly. "It's moving down."

Giving her an deadpanned stare you tried to get up from the couch as you leaned on your hands. Walking over to the female her fridge.

"Did you just spill my bottle of water?" April asked, knowing you were clumsy at times, or all the time.

Hearing the footsteps come closer to you as you just stared down to your feet, a small pool of water on the floor and no way to get out.

"Oh my- okay, stay calm. You're gonna be fine okay? I'll take care of you. My car keys." The ginger haired woman rambled, grabbing the black keys off the hanger on the wall.

Running a hand through her ginger colored locks April held open the door as you walked through and fresh air met your skin.

Opening the door of the car and getting in, you noticed April's nervous state as she quickly got around and sat down next to you, twisting her keys in the contact.

"Just keep breathing and don't die, okay?" April squeaked, placing her hand on yours as she gave you a much saying face. "That was dark wasn't it?"

Releasing a slight breath through your nose, you nodded at your friend as she drove out of her parking spot, not exactly slowly. "A little too dark."

"Jackson is going to freak out when he knows I didn't ignore your attempts to get out." Spinning her steering wheel towards left, she bit the inside of her cheek.

"If I didn't come to you. I'd be in that penthouse going into labor all by myself, Apes." Placing your hand on the dashboard, you leaned over while holding the bottom of your belly. "Constraction."

Coming to a halt you saw the light of April's phonescreen as she tapped her stopwatch app and she passed her phone to you. "Tap it every time you get one."

Tapping the icon, you breathed out, watching the stop lights turn green as April started driving again, giving you a quick glance.

"We're almost there, I just need a damn parking spot, okay?" At this moment the only thing you were able to do was throwing all your trust in April's hands but also in yourself.

Leaning your head back, you closed your eyes in pain but also in hope that all of this would be over soon. But the sound of a car door slamming shut made you opened your eyes again.

"Come on, take my hand." April took a hold of your hand as she pushed the door closed behind you with her free hand. "Y/N Y/L/N you're not having this baby in this parking lot."

Releasing her hand, you ignored her rambling and walked up to the double doors of the hospital with a fast tempo.

"Hey, I wasn't done talking!" The female retorted, pushing the door open before you walked through, placing your hand on top of your belly, breathing out.

"In and out, good job." April answered as she breathed in and out together with you. "Just like that."

"Oh god! Is it this far? Am I becoming a grandma?" Your eyes moved up as Catherine Avery strolled over to you with a nervous smile covering her lips before her eyes fell on April. "Oh and April, I've got her."

April frowned at the older woman, fiddling with her car keys as she placed her hand on your back, trying to release the pain somehow." But I just-"

Knowing Catherine Avery wasn't one of the easiest person the two of you have known, things didn't make it any easier.

"I've. Got. Her. You're free to go." Catherine pointed out, placing her one arm around your waist and the other holding your hand, leading you towards somewhere else. "Thank you for taking care of her, though."

You just assumed April nodded at her, knowing somewhere deep inside herself she was grateful for everything April did for you. And so where you.

Pulling open the blue curtains, the only thing you did was opening the cabinets and grabbing a patient gown, walking into the bathroom to change yourself.

"Take your time okay, sweetie?" A soft knock was sounded on your door what made you sigh slightly, the woman had no patience at this moment. "There's no need to hurry, okay?"

Opening the door with a fast pull, you threw a single glare in the female Avery her way, being frustrated with pain and a watermelon sized child inside of you.

"April told me someone is having a-" Arizona Robbins her words were cut off as she noticed the long browned haired woman sitting on chair. "Baby."

"Yes and please as fast as i can, I'm dying." You snapped, placing your hands on the hospital bed, moving your hips around, trying to soothe the pain. "Give me an epidural and enough lidocaine."

You heard a slight snort in the room, knowing Catherine couldn't handle herself in bringing out her own opinion as she walked out of the room.

"We can do that, let me page Jackson first, yeah?" Arizona placed a hand on your shoulder, giving you one of her toothy smiles when grabbing her pager. "Let me check your dilation?"

Grunting, you slightly layed back on the bed, placing your feet apart from each other, placing your arm over your eyes, scared for the pain you'd feel.

"Just relax, I know it's not comfortable but I need to do this." Arizona comforted, hearing you take a deep breath in, feeling the pressure. "You're 5 centimeters dilated, so an epidural is an option, I'll need Jackson to keep your back arched, okay?"

Nodding your head in silence, you lay your feet back down, covering them with the white blanket.

"I told you to stay home, why are you so stubborn?" And this was the moment you didn't wait for. A preach by your husband, who would freak out. "You're unbelievable."

"Well I'm carrying a human watermelon inside of me, maybe you should just be quiet and let me do my job?" You snapped back, sitting up, noticing Arizona held back a smile.

"I need to place a epidural, could you move up your hospital gown?" Arizona smiled, gathering her supplies to release you from the pain.

Moving the hospital gown away from your back, you could feel the cold disinfectant being wiped on your back with a cotton ball.

"I will give you a local anesthetic, just a little sting." Looking at the man in front of you, you slightly shook your head as he bit the inside of his cheek.

"I need you to lay on your side now, Jackson I need you to hold her hands as I insert the epidural." Arizona lectured, giving him a small shove in his back, breaking his stubbornness.

Shuffling back on your bed, you turned to the left, taking a hold of Jackson's hands as you felt Arizona inserting a needle into the lower section of spine. "Oh, this is the last and only baby I'm ever having."

"And in two years time we'll be here again." Jackson muttered, releasing your hands, giving you a smile that said a lot. "You know I'm right."

"You wish." The sentence left your mouth and Arizona snorted at the words, removing the needle of the Epidural.

"Let me see how far we're standing." The paediatrician mumbled, motioning for you to place your feet away from each other. "And Avery one more cocky remark, I'll hit you."

Jackson opened his mouth but nothing came out, instead he sighed and crossed his arms at the blonde female.

"You're 9 centimetres, Jackson I need you to sit behind her, and Y/N, I need you to be badass, okay?" The blonde female explained, placing her gloved hand on your knee, with trust.

"I can do that." You nodded, leaning back in your husband's chest, sweat already covering your forehead, wanting to be done with this. "I'm freaking Y/N Avery, I can do this."

Arizona shrugged and smiled slightly sitting down on the chair at your feet. "See? Just like that, If you have enough power, I need you to push."

Leaning back on Jackson's shoulder, you placed your hands on your knees, as a pain struck your abdomen, leaning forward you placed all your power on your core.

"Push push, you're doing great." Arizona spoke up, giving you a single spark of hope. "If you have the power, you can push again."

Not giving a single answer, you placed your chin on your chest and pushed once again.

"Head is out, one more firm push, and you're almost done." The blonde surgeon spoke up, giving you courage, knowing it was almost over.

Getting al your power together and sweatdrops covering your forehead, you placed pressure on your body for the last time as a loud cry was sounded across the room and made you lean your head back on Jackson's shoulder.

Seeing Arizona stand up with a bundle wrapped in a white towel, you held out your hands toward your friend. "It's a baby boy."

"Well aren’t you the cutest little thing?” Jackson whispered, caressing his son's cheek.

"I carried that for 9 months, you better call me cute AND badass." You retorted, gazing up at your husband. "Because I am."

"Yes you are, and I'm proud." He answered, kissing you sweaty forehead. "You are."

[tsarisfanfiction]

End of Blue: Chapter 1

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Angst Characters: Gordon Tracy, Scott Tracy, Tracy Brothers

Thunderbird One’s dead in the water.  Scott Tracy isn’t responding.  Rescues never feel the same when it’s one of their own they have to save.

~~~ Once again, you can all thank, or blame, the wonderful @gumnut-logic for this thing.  Two seemingly unrelated vague conversations have ended up culminating in one of my specialties - yup, another Scott!whump, as though I haven’t written enough of these already (no such thing as enough!).  Not sure how frequently this is going to be updated - or how long it’ll be.  I know what Chapter 2 is going to do and I know there will need to be at least one more chapter after that, but muses do weird things.  Title has been snaffled from Beast in Black’s “End of the World”, make of that what you will.

“Gordon!”

John appeared in front of him, looking not quite his usual calm self.  For John to be showing that, even to a brother who’d learnt to read his nuances, meant that something was very, very wrong.

Gordon’s hands inadvertently tightened on the controls of Thunderbird Four as he held the sinking ship steady while Alan did the evac in Thunderbird Two.  This sounded like terrible timing.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, skipping all the quips he’d make if it was just a regular check-in.  The loss of John’s fantastic poker face and resulting prickles down his spine told him it was far from one.

“How long until evac’s done?” his space-residing brother asked.  An unusual question from their Eye In The Sky, but with Thunderbird Five under annual maintenance, the ginger didn’t have all his usual data.  Not even half of it.  Maybe that was causing the panic, but it was just that – annual. Nothing unusual, if universally disliked.

“Alan’s clearing the last of them now,” he said.  “But I’ve been asked to hold the ship steady until the GDF get here; they’re suspecting something’s-”

“Screw the GDF,” John interrupted, and woah something was really niggling him if he was getting that obviously frantic.  “The first instant you can let go of that ship, get the hell back to Two.”

That was not John-typical at all.  Gordon’s squid sense almost exploded.

“What’s happened?” he asked. “John, where do I need to be?”  He was running through scenarios but he couldn’t think of a single reason John would be hurrying him like this.  Not unless-

“Thunderbird One’s down.”

Shit.  “In the ocean?”

“North Pacific.”

That was the other side of the world.  Two hours, easy, until they got there, and they didn’t even have Virgil to get all the juice out of his ‘bird, what with the collection of broken bones he’d acquired on the last rescue.  Gordon forced his hands to relax before he inadvertently gave Four a command he didn’t mean to.

“Scott?”  Thunderbird One was watertight, she should be able to hold out as long as she wasn’t too deep.  As long as whatever had taken her down hadn’t compromised that… What the hell even took her down?

“Not answering.”  John always looked a shade or two off through the holograms, but Gordon suspected that this time the too-pale skin wasn’t entirely a trick of technology.  “Too much of Thunderbird Five is still offline; I don’t have telemetry.  Brains and EOS are working as fast as they can, but it’ll still be a few more hours before she’s fully back online.”

Gordon was just grateful enough of her was online to register One’s crash.

“Have you told Alan?” he asked.

“He knows you need to get to the North Pacific yesterday,” John answered.  “Not why.”

Alan was going to be furious at being left in the dark, but Gordon understood why.  He’d have to fill him in on the flight over.

“We’ll get there,” he promised, because there wasn’t another option.  They had to.  “Give me updates as you get them.”

“F.A.B.”  It was a reluctant acknowledgement, but they both knew John was almost useless until Five was fully online.  “I’ll update Tracy Island.”

Gordon did not envy him that task one bit.  Virgil was going to freak out.  Badly.

“That’s the last of them, Gordon,” Alan broke in.  “John says-”

“On my way,” Gordon interrupted – okay, so he was a little frazzled, too.  Sue him.  It wasn’t every day he had to rescue his eldest brother from an unplanned watery landing.  “John told me.  I’ll fill you in on the details when we’re on the way.”  He released the ship and shot back towards his floating module as fast as Thunderbird Four could handle.  “Don’t wait for me to get out of Four.  Grab the module as soon as I’m docked and go.”

“What about the crew? We need to drop them off, remember?”

Gordon had forgotten about the crew.  “Any of them need the hospital?”  A high-speed spin and he was in position for the cable to draw Thunderbird Four up the ramp.

“No, but-”

“Then they get a joyride in Two.”  Clunk, and the docking began.  Maybe he shouldn’t be authorising a nice round trip for a bunch of sailors, but it was already a two hour journey and they had no idea how badly Scott was hurt, or what sort of damage One had taken.  Gordon had salvaged downed planes before.

They weren’t pretty.

“Gordon, what-”

“Module’s ready for retrieval,” he interrupted, mostly because he didn’t want to answer the inevitable question just yet.  “Haul me up and punch it.”

“F.A.B.”  Alan sounded far from happy, but the familiar noises and rocking sensation of module retrieval began.

Despite his instinct being to run straight to the cockpit and fill Alan in, thereby making sure he was indeed going as fast as Two could go, Gordon took his time with his post-dive checks.  Thunderbird Four needed to be in top condition for the next rescue, and he refused to jeopardise Scott’s safety by fluffing the checks on the ‘bird that was going to save him.

She was, thankfully, just fine.  No warning lights, no errors, scratches or scrapes.  Thunderbird Four was more than ready for the rescue.

Now they just had to wait until they got there.

“Explain,” Alan ordered the moment he entered the cockpit.  The rescued crew were also looking at him attentively, although thankfully none of them seemed to mind the detour.  Gordon ignored them as he sidled into his seat and began checking their flight data.

Alan was a good kid; he’d heard punch it and taken it for the order it was.  Thunderbird Two was travelling at top speed, hurtling through the skies towards her drowning sister with everything she had.

Still, there was always room for a little more, and Gordon flicked a few switches.

“Gordon!”

“Thunderbird One’s down,” he admitted.  Behind them, he heard the unified gasps of shock from their passengers.  “John can’t raise her, and we have no telemetry.”

“In the ocean?” Alan asked. He didn’t sound like he believed it. Gordon just hoped he wasn’t going to go into shock when it sank in.  Hell, he hoped he wasn’t going to go into shock when it sank in.

“Yup.  No more data, no idea why, no contact.  We just know she’s down.”

Despite already reportedly being maxed out, Thunderbird Two sped up.  Gordon knew Virgil hated it when Alan or Scott treated her like their own ‘birds and pushed the limits, but he suspected they might get a pass this time.

Speaking of their grounded older brother…

“Gordon, Alan!”

Virgil looked awful. The pyjamas and general ‘injured person’ vibes – including at least one visible cast and general mummification by bandages – aside, it was entirely too obvious that he’d been filled in on what little they knew.

“Receiving you, Virgil. Any way this girl of yours can go any faster?” he answered.  “Alan’s trying, but he’s not you.”

“Hey!”

“Make sure you get there in one piece!” Virgil demanded.

“That’s the plan,” Alan promised.  “Anything from Scott?”

Virgil’s face tightened, panic and frustration both clearly etched onto his face.  It hurt to look at – Gordon knew he wanted nothing more than to be where Alan was right then, getting every last scrap of speed out of his ‘bird.  Gordon wanted him there, too, and not just for piloting.  Virgil would have a plan, but most importantly, Virgil had the best medical knowledge.  If Scott was hurt – not really an if if they weren’t getting any contact from him – Gordon wanted the best man for the job.

The best man was currently stuck in the infirmary with too many broken bones to be of any practical use even once they got Scott home.  Gordon and Alan were just going to have to make do with their lesser qualifications.

“Nothing,” Virgil growled, as though the word physically pained him.  It probably did.

“Maybe he’s just out of range while Five’s down?” Alan suggested hopefully.  They all knew that wasn’t likely, but Gordon wasn’t going to be the one to shoot it down.  Not when he wanted to believe it, too.

“I’ll try pinging him from Two,” he said instead, both for something to do and in the vain hope that Alan might be right – never mind that geographically they were further from Tracy Island than Thunderbird One was and their comms were working fine.

“Is there anything we can do?” the ship’s captain asked from behind them.  “I know we’re not you guys, but if there’s anything…”

Gordon was so glad they weren’t kicking up a fuss.

“Accept our apologies for the extended trip,” he shrugged.  “Otherwise, there’s not much anyone can do until we know more.”  He opened the line to Thunderbird One.

It connected.  Normally, he’d call that a good start.  Now, it just filled him with dread, because it meant comms weren’t down.

“Thunderbird One from Thunderbird Two,” he called.  “Scott, are you receiving?”

Silence.

On the other line, Virgil looked almost as pale as John’s normal holographic visage.  Whether that was the pain from his injuries, or something less physical, Gordon didn’t dare guess.

“Scott!” he tried again. “Thunderbird One, do you hear me?”

Nothing.  Not even a flicker of visual or a semi-conscious groan of pain. Nothing at all.

The thought crossed his mind that Scott wasn’t even in her.

“John, how soon before you get the cameras back online?” he asked.  The ginger head popped up to accompany Virgil’s over the dashboard – Gordon’s earlier observation had been right.  Their faces were both the exact same pallor.  It wasn’t a good look on either of them.  Beside him, Alan wasn’t looking too hot, either.  He didn’t dare think about his own appearance.  “If we can’t raise him, we can at least try and see what we’re dealing with.”

The line had connected, and he hadn’t heard water.  Hopefully that meant she wasn’t leaking and Scott was still comfy and dry, but Gordon wanted to be sure.

Needed to be sure. The rescue would be a lot more complicated without that sort of information.

“Cameras are online, but Thunderbird One’s are turned off right now.”  John’s face was the picture of frustration, and he wasn’t doing a very good job at hiding it in his voice, either.  “It’ll take a little longer before I can access them to turn them on, but EOS is making it a priority.”

Scott never let any of the rest of them turn their internal cameras off.  From now on, Gordon was going to enforce that rule for Thunderbird One, too.  If John and Virgil didn’t beat him to it.

Beside him, Alan was sitting in silence, staring ahead as though if he glared at the world hard enough, he could discover the secrets of teleportation.  Gordon really wished it worked that way.

Sadly, teleportation didn’t exist, and they were having to do things the slow way.  Not that Two was slow, but she certainly wasn’t fast enough.  Not today.

The minutes crawled past like hours.  With Alan firmly in control and channelling Scott’s inner-speed demon as much as the big green ‘bird would allow, there was little for Gordon to do except periodically try to hail Scott, getting ever more concerned as silence persistently responded. He could understand a black-out for a few minutes, but it was – he checked the time – at least an hour since John had contacted him and there was still nothing on the other end of the line.

Virgil was still there, hovering in his bed-bound state and periodically throwing his own frantic calls Scott’s way. Gordon hadn’t even tried to tell him to leave it to them, reminding him that there was nothing he could do.

No-one knew that better than Virgil, after all, and his frustration at his helplessness was steadily mounting the longer the silence persisted.

With no solid information on what they were going to find – external access cameras, which Scott hadn’t turned off, were merrily showing nothing but water and the occasional sea life investigating the strange intruder – Gordon turned his time towards planning.  Plans for an intact Thunderbird One, plans for a leaking Thunderbird One, plans of extraction depending on the severity of Scott’s condition.  He might be going in blind, but he wasn’t going to be going in unprepared.

“Coming up on the co-ordinates now.”  Alan broke through his planning – this scenario involving Thunderbird One somehow stuck and unable to be airlifted – to give him the heads’ up.  His younger brother had been far too subdued the entire flight, and Gordon just hoped he’d be able to keep it together a while longer.  Thunderbird Five wasn’t online enough to have remote control access yet.

And she still didn’t have telemetry, which John was panicking over more and more as Scott continued to be non-responsive, or control over Thunderbird One’s internal cameras.

“F.A.B.,” Gordon responded automatically, getting up from his seat and heading straight for the module and his Thunderbird.  She was just as he’d left her – fully prepared for the next dive – and he settled into the cockpit with ease of experience.

This was just one more rescue.  One with limited information and a brother’s life on the line, but still just one more rescue.  He could do this.

He had to do this.

Pre-dive checks were completed, all systems green and raring to go.  He wondered if she was as anxious to get to her sister as he was his brother.

“Ready for module deployment,” he reported, and barely a moment later they were falling, crashing into the water and rocking for a moment before they stabilised.  “Alan, see if you can get a scan of Thunderbird One’s condition.”  It wouldn’t be as good as a Thunderbird Five scan, but immediately overhead, Thunderbird Two should be able to get something.

Thunderbird Four slid out of the module and under the surface to the tune of his brother’s “F.A.B.” Nose pointed down and sonar active, he pushed her as fast as he dared towards the location they had for the downed Thunderbird.  It wouldn’t be exact – Thunderbird Five’s maintenance downtime crippling the accuracy – but Gordon had enough faith in it to trust that he was at least in range.

Sonar registered the craft just as Alan called him.

“Scans show one life sign,” he said, and Gordon knew he wasn’t imagining the relief in his younger brother’s voice – mostly because he felt it, too.  One life sign meant Scott was alive.  Whatever state he was in, he was alive.  “But Thunderbird One’s been taking on water.  Scans suggest she’s half-flooded.”

That was not such good news. It had to be a small leak, if it was only half after two hours, but with Scott still not responding, he had no idea if his brother was wearing his helmet.

Flooding also meant she was going to be heavier to lift, but the amount of water meant it would be too risky to deploy the tube to link the two craft and attempt to evac Scott into Four. He sent one more ping at the downed Thunderbird, hoping against hope that Scott would answer this time.

He didn’t.

Getting visual on her was a muted sort of relief.  On the one hand, Scott was found, but on the other, Thunderbird One was not supposed to be nestled on the seabed.  It just wasn’t right.

Her wings were still closed, implying she’d been supersonic, and the nose cone was crumpled from the impact with either the water or the sea floor.  Perhaps both.  Gordon suspected that was the source of the leak, but he was more interested in the way she wasn’t entirely belly-down.  Rolled ever so slightly on her side, he should be able to get some sort of visual through the viewing window.

“I’ve got eyes on her,” he belatedly reported.  “Her nose is damaged but otherwise she doesn’t look too bad.  She’s not quite belly-down, so I’m going to go EVA and see what I can see through the viewing window.”

He just needed to see Scott. See that he was okay, see if he had his helmet on and if it was intact.

“Be careful,” John warned. “Your suit won’t hold for long at those depths.”

That was normally Virgil’s line, but Virgil had gone silent.  Gordon would worry about that later, once Scott was safe.

“I just need to check his condition,” he said, tipping backwards into the airlock.  “I won’t be long.”

Compared to Thunderbird Two, Thunderbird One always seemed small.  Somehow, in the wide expanse of the ocean, she looked big.  Crashed machinery instead of sleek ‘bird.  The thought made him shudder as he pushed through the water, heading straight for the panel of window he could see.

Thunderbird One’s emergency lighting was on, dim and shrouding most things in shadow.

It was enough to see that Scott was slumped in the pilot chair.  Definitely unconscious, and also not wearing his helmet, because that would have made Gordon’s job too easy.

It wasn’t enough to see why.

He banged on the glass, in case the vibrations could do what persistent comms couldn’t and rouse his brother.

Nothing.

The water was up past Scott’s boots; Gordon couldn’t see how far but his brother was at least partially submerged.

“Alan, we’ll need the lifting bags.”  There was no way he could safely get Scott out until they were on the surface.

“Coming down to you now.” It was Virgil who responded, deep voice full of determination.  Gordon suspected he’d demanded the remote controls for them.  “How is he?  Can you see him?”

“I can see he’s still in his seat,” Gordon answered.  “Not wearing his helmet, so I can’t evac him until she’s lifted with all that water in her, and still not responding to anything.  It’s too dark to see anything else.”

“Any sign of what brought them down?” John asked.

“Nothing,” Gordon admitted, and that concerned him, because what could bring One down – especially with Scott piloting her?  “Only damage I’m seeing so far is from the landing.”

“Lift bags incoming,” Virgil warned, and he looked up to see the yellow bags descending.

With one last look at his unmoving brother, eerie with the emergency lighting playing over the water inside, he peeled himself away from the viewing window and swam up to meet them, making sure they were firmly attached to the Thunderbird.  No room for error.

“Ready to deploy.”

He swam back to Thunderbird Four, slipping back inside and into the cockpit to watch as the bags inflated and slowly, slowly, peeled the downed ‘bird off of the sea floor.

The ascent seemed to take forever, and Gordon kept pace the entire time, peering through the viewing window as best he could to keep an eye on his brother.  There was no movement at all, no reaction to the way his Thunderbird was rising back up to the surface.

If not for Alan’s report of a life sign, he would have been fearing the worst.  As it was, he was still terrified that something was badly wrong, although with Thunderbird One mostly intact, he wasn’t sure what. There shouldn’t have been anything to knock him out.  Certainly not for this long.

The moment they breached the surface, he latched on to her with Thunderbird Four’s arms and once again left his ‘bird.  Gecko gloves gave him the grip he needed to scramble up to Thunderbird One’s dorsal hatch, and with a quick manual override – that thankfully worked – he dropped down into thigh-deep water inside the Thunderbird.

“Scott!” he called, ignoring frantic demands from his brothers that he update them.  He’d update them when he knew what was going on himself.  Thunderbird One rolled gently with the water she was floating on, somewhat stabilised by Four but not entirely.  Not until clanks told him Alan had fired grapples to lock on.

He waded his way towards the pilot chair, eyeing the way Scott was slumped and already mentally running through all the possible reasons for his unresponsiveness.  A hand on the shoulder of the seat – not his brother until he knew injuries – and he pulled himself the rest of the way until he was in front of Scott, and-

Oh shit.

He must have said it out loud, because suddenly there were three brothers in his ear – loud and frantic – but he only had eyes for his white, white brother.  None of his theories, his suspicions, had been right. Not even close.

Blood-soaked bandages wrapped around Scott’s abdomen, but it wasn’t those that had Gordon’s teeth grinding in a mix of fear and fury.  No.

It was the knife buried hilt-deep.

tbc...

[doverly]

Up the Road

A werewolf takes her newly turned almost girlfriend on a road trip to their new home. Unfortunately, the road is paved with old enemies.

~5.7k Words

Even my superhuman abilities couldn’t keep me awake forever. I had been driving for 18 hours straight and to be honest the lines on the road were starting to blur. Analise was asleep in the passenger seat beside me but even if she had been awake I wouldn’t have asked her to drive. She had been through a lot in a short amount of time, I didn’t want to give her any extra responsibilities. 

A light flashed to life on the dashboard, we were almost out of gas. I blessed the truck’s terrible gas mileage as I pulled into the nearest exit. We were trying to get there as fast as possible so I was trying to avoid unnecessary stops. Getting gas would be a way to break up the interstate monopoly though, and I could get some coffee while I was there. 

While I was carefully monitoring how much gas went into the hulking dull blue beast of a truck Analise started to wake up. She had been sleeping since we left Arkansas, twelve whole hours. I was worried that she wouldn’t wake up. Though I supposed that being in the truck had lulled her into a deeper sleep than usual. When I wasn’t driving I normally fell asleep on road trips as well. 

“Sorry I slept for so long,” Analise yawned, “I was trying to decipher our future through my dreams. So we’re in Maryland?” she asked sleepily. Analise had grown up in the south, but being quite introverted she had never picked up too much of an accent. Still, her voice spoke of hurricanes and pecan pie. I could have listened to that voice for hours. 

She was right, going through D.C. would have been faster but there were some people there that I needed to avoid. “Did your dreams tell you that?”

With a small smile she pointed at the 7-11 behind all of the gas pumps. On the windows ,along with deals on slushies, the Maryland Powerball was proudly advertised. I laughed and quickly pulled out the gas pump. Fifty dollars worth of fuel should have been enough for most of our trip, Analise had done something to the tank to make it use less fuel. 

I quickly paid, in cash, for the gas and then started counting out the money I was willing to spend on coffee. Before we left I had managed to get a couple thousand dollars together, and we were only half a day away from our destination, but I still wanted to budget. I never knew when we would need money. As I counted out the money I watched as Analise completed her divination. She had taped a light pink crystal to the head rest, I supposed that had to do with the spell. Analise took the crystal off of the head rest and taped it onto her pencil, then she started writing. I supposed that she was writing down her dreams, or her interpretations of that they meant. Even though Analise undeniably had some sort of power I wasn’t that well versed with spells. If I kept staring I would just be in her way, I turned to go into the shop. 

“Hey,” Analise asked shyly, looking up at me from her notebook with those deep brown eyes that I loved to get lost in, “If you’re going in can you get me some pizza, or a drink, or some candy or something?”

I nodded and counted out twenty more dollars, determined to get her everything that she had asked for. When she had moved just the year before she had taken a plane the few short hours to her new town, so I wasn’t sure that she was too used to long road trips. 

It was amazing what stayed the same no matter where you were. A 7-11 is the same no matter if it's Arkansas, or Maryland, or even Maine. The smell of the place made me smile, it was so familiar, so comforting. Donuts and slushie syrup and cheap beer. As I made my way through the short aisles I could almost imagine my dad behind me, trying to hurry me because his girlfriend was waiting in the car. At the thought of a girlfriend I blushed in the candy aisle. Analise I hadn’t talked about our relationship much before we left, I wondered if she was still interested in me. After all I was pretty much responsible for ruining her life. 

I chose a bag of Starbursts for the candy requirement of Analise’s request. She mentioned once in passing that she preferred candy you could chew, so the fruity candy seemed pretty safe. That plus my medium mocha, a large lemonade, and two slices of rubbery pizza costed fifteen dollars. Less than I thought, which was nice.

“Sorry I was gone so long,” I said when I slid back into the driver’s seat. In reality I had no idea whether or not I was gone for a long time. But not being around her felt wrong somehow. 

She laughed and took her food from my hand, I wondered if I had gotten what she wanted, “It’s fine. Actually I could smell you all the way from here, it was pretty nice to know that you were still close by.”

If I had tried to open my mouth nothing would have come out, just incomprehensible sounds of happiness. So instead of talking I just started up the truck and drove back onto the highway. 

A comfortable silence fell over the cab of the blue truck. Analise wasn’t too much of a talker even when she wasn’t eating, which I was just fine with me even if I loved hearing her voice. My coffee tasted exactly how I expected it to. With my heightened senses I could taste every over roasted coffee bean and low quality chocolate. They gave the entire cup an unmistakable burnt dark chocolate taste. I drank it all down greedily, we still had almost a day’s driving ahead after all. 

Once Analise finished her pizza and stopped sipping on her still half full cup of lemonade I expected her to doze off again. A playlist of her favorite songs I had prepared drifted through the truck’s speaker system. I had to fight to keep the music from lulling me to sleep before the coffee kicked in, but it seemed like Analise was wide awake. Just staring out of the tinted window. Passing signs were unreadable going 70 miles per hour, but Analise’s eyes still lingered on every one of them. She was thinking, I wondered what her dreams had told her about the future. 

“How much longer till we get there?” her voice sounded weary. 

I had memorized our route and several possible routes so I had an answer for her instantly, “Still about 20 hours left.”

Analise didn’t answer, just nodded. I winced. It seemed like all up and down the eastern seaboard I had enemies, so we were having to take a detour across Pennsylvania to avoid the major cities. If I wasn’t so scared Analise could have just flown to Maine and  she wouldn’t have been so tired, if I was smart I would have gotten a faster car, if I had never moved to town she wouldn’t have been in this mess in the first place. I took another sip of my coffee,the bitterness didn’t seem like a harsh enough punishment. 

Another two hours on the road another state sign passed. We were in Pennsylvania, farther away from the big east coast pack but still within striking range. I tried to stop it but I instinctively relaxed. The smell of hostile wolves grew less prominent and I couldn’t help but sigh in relief. The most dangerous part of our journey was over, it all going up from there. 

I got a surge of energy when we entered the Keystone State. Maybe it was the caffeine or maybe it was the relief. Either way I was confident that I would be able to get us to Maine without any more stops. With my renewed energy I tried to stop seeing the roads as the same. From Arkansas to where we were the scenery had changed greatly. Shallow forests had replaced empty scrubland, cars were now four wheel drive, and it seemed like we were only the truck on the road. We had really left the south behind, I wondered how the north would be. Dad and I had spent the first few years of my life in the pacific northwest, that was where he met Clair after all. But I had never had to survive this far up the east coast, I wondered if deer tasted different the farther up you went. 

“It's getting late,” Analise said weakly. And she was right, the pink clouds of sunset were being replaced by the deep blue sky of night. Even though the stars weren’t out yet you could feel the time changing by the second. Maybe the coming darkness was responsible for some of my energy. Still I wondered why Analise said that, she was never one for pleasantries or small talk.

I wondered if any normal person could have heard her, she was almost whispering, “Can we stop for the night?”

Even though we were going at highway speeds I risked a glance at her. She could hardly keep her eyes open, yet she hadn’t slept a little. Her breathing was shallow, I wondered if she was sick. Gas station food didn’t have a stellar reputation after all. Yet she didn’t look green, just tired. I took a hand off of the leather covered steering wheel and reached it over to her, running it through her kinky black hair. Analise sighed, almost whimpered. 

“Alright,” I said softly, “Don’t worry I’ll find us a motel.”

Once both my hands were back on the steering wheel I booked it to the next exit. Even if Analise’s senses and strength were heightened I shouldn’t have expected her to go almost two days without sleeping in a bed. 

I tried not to spend too much time searching for somewhere to sleep, but in the end I was kind of choosy. If we stayed at a traditional motel then our scent would be open to the world. My enemies could gather in the parking lot and attack us at any time of the night. Instead of a drive-in motel I chose a small hotel for us to stay at. It would be more money, but it would protect us at least. 

Once I was parked I went out to get our suitcases from the truck bed while Analise got herself out. Her suitcase was big and light green, by the weight of it I think she had packed her entire wardrobe and all of her favorite books and plushies. Me, I had packed pretty light, quickly having to move wasn’t a new thing for me so I knew the procedure. 

I held onto the suitcases while Analise had her still half full cup of lemonode and the rest of her candy. The light of the hotel and the rest of the fast food places around the town drowned out the stars. Analise had once told me that she hated how the night sky looked in towns. She had grown up in the suburbs so she had never even seen how beautiful it could be at night until she went camping when she was ten years old. The simple dark blue and few bright stars didn’t do the night justice in her opinion, so when I told her that we were moving to the middle of nowhere Maine that was a positive in her opinion. Being able to see the true night sky was exciting, but for meI didn’t care as long as I could feel the moon on my skin.

“Can we have one room with two beds,” I asked the receptionist once we got into the carpeted lobby.

I wondered how we must have looked to him. Two black teenaged girls all alone with no supervision, I wonder if he could tell that we were hundreds of miles from home. 

“Actually we have a deal tonight for a suite room with a king-sized bed for just twenty dollars extra if you are interested.” he said in a cheerful customer service tone.

Analise nodded her head behind me but I shook mine. We had only been on two awkward dates, I didn’t know if she would even want to sleep in the same bed with me for an entire night. I decided to save the twenty dollars and take the double twin bed room. The receptionist nodded and handed Analise our room key card since my hands were full with the suitcases.

It was on the third floor with windows facing the main parking lot. That would be good, I thought, we can have advanced warning if someone is coming. Then I laughed to myself. We were states away from their territory and I was still worried, they might have even forgotten about me. It had been more than a year after all. I just needed to relax and get some sleep, another day of driving was ahead of me after all.

“Do you mind if I take a shower first?” Analise asked me once we got settled in the room.

“Oh yeah don't worry. I’ll check for bedbugs in the meantime.”

The thought of bed bugs made Analise’s eyes widen but I waved off her fear. I was only being cautious, and there was only some much the bugs could do to us, after all.

Instead of lifting up the mattresses I got down on my knees and started sniffing the crisp white sheets. They were relatively clean, thankfully. No used condoms and only a few spare crumbs were stuck under folds in the sheets. That was good, I’m not sure I could have let Analise sleep on a dirty bed.

I brushed the crumbs off of her bed and straightened up the sheets. Her’s the one farthest away from the window, I’m sure she was tired of sleeping next to windows after a day in the car. Though giving myself the window bed also quieted my fears that we would get sneak attacked, even though I tried to stop myself from getting scared in the first place. I didn’t bother smelling my bed or brushing off crumbs, if I got sick then so be it. 

Analise exited along with a cloud of steam from the bathroom, she was wrapped in a towel but I made sure to close my eyes. 

“You can go in now,” she said while I heard her unzipping her suitcase and rooting around for some pajamas.

It was a short cold shower for me, though I made sure to shake myself dry afterwards. The feeling of cold water spraying out of my hair and skin was amazing. I had basically been turned my entire life, so some of my more wolfish traits had entered my everyday life. It was the little things, shaking, running, looking at the moon, that really made me feel alive. 

I came out dry but naked, I hadn’t thought to grab a towel. The lamp beside Analise’s bed was off and she was curled up under the sheets, her breathing regular and deep. But her heart rate was still fast, she was trying to fall asleep not actually sleeping. Still I tried to be quiet as I could as I snuck over to my suitcase and put on my pajamas. 

“No one’s going to hurt us, nothing’s going to happen.” I whispered to myself firmly as I padded softly to bed, “Just go to sleep.”

And I tried, I really did try my best. The bed was comfortable, the sheets were soft, and the window let in buckets full of soft moonlight. But I had just drinken a bunch of coffee and since I was a werewolf sleeping during the night had never come naturally to me. The moon enchanted me awake, its many craters and silvery glow so mysterious and beautiful. I tried to turn away from the window and close my eyes, but just knowing that the moon was up was enough to get my mind racing.

While I was trying to fall asleep my mind wandered. I wondered where Clair was, I hadn’t seen her in person in a year and hadn’t spoken to her in three months. She would know what to do in this situation, she wouldn’t just grasp at straws. Dad was so stupid to give her up. Tears welled up in my eyes as I thought of that fateful day when she left. Dad hadn’t just fucked his own life up, his actions had broken me for so long. And he wondered why I was avoiding him.

“Are you sleeping?” Analise whispered into the dark room.

I hadn’t been paying too much attention to her breathing or heart rate, I had thought she would be asleep. 

Once I heard her I sat up in bed and looked over. She was still curled up under the sheets facing the door. 

“Yeah I’m up, what do you need?” I asked quickly. 

I heard a head shake, “Nevermind, I don’t want to bother you.”

At this point I got out of bed and walked over to her. I didn’t want her to think that she was bothering me, I didn’t even know how she could have bother me. It was my fault that she was there, I didn’t want her to hesitate to ask me anything. 

“It's okay,” I whispered once I was closer to her.

She turned around and I could see that she had been crying. Analise sat up in bed and I kneeled down next to her. She sniffled, it sounded loud in the dark room. 

“I had trouble sleeping when Mom and me first moved. Even though my bed frame had come in the moving truck too, everything was different. Whether it was the sounds or the smells, everything was weird. It took me like a month to get a full night’s sleep.”

I nodded, she had seemed tired when I first met her. It was the first time she have moved away from her hometown, it made sense. 

“And it’s so cold here,” it seemed like her voice was getting smaller and smaller, “I didn’t know how cold it could be inside.”

She paused and I stroked her hair, she was so far from everything that she had ever known. 

“Can you sleep with me?” I’m glad it was dark in the room and Analise hadn’t yet gotten her night vision yet. That phrase had so much meaning so I waited until she started speaking again, “Just for tonight, it's so cold and I don’t think I can sleep without warming up a bit. I’m sorry if it's weird or if you don’t like me anymore, but…”

I didn’t let her finish before I crawled into bed with her and started cuddling up to her. It was awkward for the first few seconds, but once I wrapped my arms around her waist and leaned my head into her shoulder she and I both relaxed. 

“Wait…” I just registered what she had been saying, “What do you mean that I don’t like you anymore?”

Instead of answering she went quiet for a minute then told me a story. I was fine with that, maybe it was a sensitive question. And besides I always loved learning about what her life was like before we met, before everything went to hell. 

“When I was in 7th grade I had a boyfriend and I think we were pretty serious, as far as middle school relationships go.” she said and I could tell, even in the dark with her facing away from me, I could tell that there was a sad smile on her face, “We had been in the same classes together since 6th grade, but we started dating in April of our 7th grade year. Summer came and we stayed together, my friends even commented on how great our relationship was when we all went to the beach together. When school started again we kept dating, but in November, right before thanksgiving, my grandma died. I was really sad about it about it and I didn’t talk for like a week straight. My friends supported me, even though they were bad at it, but he didn’t. He kept trying to keep going on dates and acted like nothing happened and when I couldn’t he broke up with me. He wrote me a letter saying that he had cut me out of his life for his mental health. Me being sad about my grandma was bringing him down.”

I was starting to understand but Analise kept going, “When everything happened and I yelled at you when we were in the movies I thought that we would be over. And I know that you’re just staying with me because of guilt or something…” Analise’s voice broke and she sobbed quietly. 

This was too much, Analise might have been tired but I needed her to know what I knew. I turned on the lamp beside the bed and turned Analise’s shoulder so that she was facing me. Tears were streaming down her face and pooling on the tip of her nose, she must have been crying for longer than I thought. 

“I’m not just here doing this because of guilt Analise,” And I wasn’t. I had been an irresponsible idiot for accidentally turning her, but I was doing more than taking responsibility, “I want to be here, I want you to live a happy life. Not just because I feel guilty. And I’ve been kind of distant because I thought that you were going through a lot, not because I don’t like you still.”

“Thanks,” her mouth barely moved, and she kept crying.

I brung her into a hug and brought us both down on the bed. Analise kept crying into my chest, I wondered if she believed anything that I said. I hugged her tighter, feeling her tears stain my gray pajama shirt. The lamp was still on, leaving us in the light while the rest of the room was cloaked in darkness. A sob ripped through the room, Analise’s tears ran harder. I just hugged her.

“Did you---?” Analise started, stuttering and sobbing, “Are you… I’m sorry, I just…”

I stroked her back, silently telling her that it was okay. And I was about to verbally tell her too, when I heard something. The doorknob was turning, slowly and quietly. Quieter than any human could have done. I resisted the urge to growl, whoever was at the door needed to think that we were both sleeping. Analise’s and I’s physical well being trumped emotional security as I hopped out of bed and lifted a finger to my lips. She hadn’t yet adjusted to her super senses so Analise didn’t hear the door opening, but she stopped crying all the same. I smiled at the trust she had in me and then turned all my attention to the door.

Luckily the walls of the hotel were pretty thick, so they could only vaguely hear our heart rates through the door. Though those thick walls were probably the reason I couldn’t smell our attackers before they were so close, that and the mellow scent of tears that had spread throughout the room. We had the upper hand, they didn’t know we were still awake. By we I mean I, I would never ask Analise to fight for me. Not making any sound I crept behind the door and motioned for Analise to turn off the lamp. In the darkness I waited.

Their smell assaulted me when the door finally creaked open. Dirty river water, purebred dogs, and brandy. It was them, the Maryland pack. Internally I cursed, how were they here? We were seventy miles away from their pack boundary? I allowed them to creep farther into the room while I thought quickly about how they must have done it. In a car with thick walls they must have followed us up the highway, staying downwind the entire time. For a second I thought them insane, Dad and I had crossed them a year and half ago and they were still this obsessed with me. Then I remembered our time with the pack. They looked after their dogs and they looked after their own, and we had damaged a lot of dogs. I still remembered the smell of labrador blood on dirty snow, those nightmares still haunted me. 

A short barking laugh not too dismisimar to my dad’s, “Crying already, don’t worry we’re not going to hurt you much.”

I wished that Analise hadn’t cried, but her tears were hiding my scent at least. By their footsteps I counted two people, maybe I would be able to hold them off while Analise got to the truck. It didn’t matter what I could do though, it mattered what I needed to do. I lunged, extending my fingernails into sharp claws I lunged for the man’s throat.

If it had been a human I could have severed their artery right there, but werewolves can dodge even in human form. I caught his arm when he raised it to block my attack. By that I could tell that he was a low level enforcer, both of them were, probably recently turned. I had been turned when I was just 8 months old. Mastery of my wolf, my senses, and my abilities had come naturally. I tore my claws through his forearm, blood tinged the air as I ribbed through muscle. I could win.

The second enforcer, it was a lady, came behind me and reached for my throat. I could hear Analise’s panicked breathing in bed, short and fast, she probably couldn’t even tell what was happening in the dark. I could tell by the sound in the air that there were no claws coming at me, I laughed audibly into the gloom. They had probably only been werewolves for a few months, she couldn’t even summon claws on command. I didn’t let her hand reach me before ripping my claws out of the man’s arm and bringing my foot around and connecting a kick with her shoulder.

“Turn on the lights!” I yelled into the void, my kick had blown the lady away and I wanted to be able see everything that was happening.

A few seconds of Analise noisily grasping for the switch before everything was illuminated. I was able to see the woman charging at me with light blinded eyes and a snarl before rolling out of the way. Right into the legs of the man. Quicker than I would have thought he would have been able to, the man grabbed my throat and ripped me into the air. With me seemingly taken care of the woman stalked towards Analise, still cowering in fear on the bed. Her eyes were wide and she was frozen with fear, I’m sure she would have peed herself if she hadn’t already gone to the bathroom. I tried to crane my neck to see how fast the woman was going, if I had any time, but the man’s grip on my neck was strong. Too strong. He was using too much force, if I was a human he would have broken my neck twice over. Since I wasn’t, all he was doing was cracking the bones in his fingers. 

There was no time to be careful, I could see the sharp teeth that he had gotten out. Glinting in the lamplight, white and long. I got out my own teeth, shorter perhaps, but I was holding the advantage in experience. He had brought me closer to his face, probably going to spew out some curse or insult. But that was his mistake. I stretched my neck further than humanly possible and took a bite out of his nose. By that point I had bitten into a lot of fur and wolf blood always tasted odd. More like pence than pennies. I ripped cartilage and muscle out of his face and in his agony he let go of me and dropped to his knees. There was no time for mercy, I brought my foot down on his still bleeding head and heard a crack.

With a growl I launched myself at the woman, who was towering over Analise in her bed. She was probably saying something but my rage was too loud to hear. If I had been able to calm myself down then everything would have been different. I saw it before I heard it, a gun. A single shot, an infuriating smile. I was on the floor, smelling my own blood leak out of the wound in my shoulder. Dimly, my mind wondered how no one had heard what was going on. The woman’s foot was on my back, pressing me against the carpet. Though I don’t think I would have been able to get up even if she hadn’t been on me. I had been in enough fights to know that whenever I lost enough blood I passed out, and even though I was trying, I wasn’t fighting the blackness hard enough. 

“Don’t worry, puppy,” the woman said sickeningly sweet to Analise, who’s panicked breathing along with whimpering I could still hear, “We won’t hurt you, you’ll just be coming with us. If you do good you’ll get food, if you don’t…”

Her words had ignited something in me, I flexed muscles I didn’t know I had and growled deeper than I ever had. Before I even knew it I was a wolf and it wasn’t even the full moon. The last time I had measured my wolf was 7.5 feet long and my fur had darkened to a brown almost black with sunnier brown patches. When the moon was out I loved to run and swim and hunt and catch any fish I could find. But there was no time for play that night. 

The woman wasn’t expecting a shifter, and to be honest neither was I, she lost balance and almost fell over before regaining her balance. I was slow because of the unexpected shifting, she got a shot in and it whizzed through my fur. The wound in my shoulder was still there, but as a wolf I was better able to accept pain. With an enraged growl I leaped at her, and she knocked over the lamp as she went down with all 160 pounds of me on top of her. Strange shadows were cast along the room and I could barely see Analise’s face. 

“Plea-!” the woman started the shout, but I didn’t let her finish. I knew that she and the man were only following orders. As minor enforcers their position was always in flux. Enough mistakes and they were demoted lower than where they started at. Both of them were ambitious newbies, probably were this close to promotion. Really I didn’t have any malice toward the pair. But their situation didn’t let me excuse what they had done. They had scared Analise, they had harmed her. I had no mercy for them.

My teeth ravaged her collar, neck, and shoulders. Skin got stuck in my teeth but I kept biting and scraping and snarling. Eventually she stopped blinking and she stopped trying to scratch me through my fur. I stepped off of her awkwardly, suddenly aware that Analise was still in the room. I turned to face her, blood still soaking into and staining my fur. Her heart rate didn’t slow, I must have been terrifying to her. The first wolf she sees and I was covered in blood and had just maimed someone.

“Laurie?” she choked out.

I nodded my wolf head and sat down on my hind legs, trying to look cute and nonthreatening. Analise crawled out of bed slowly, her legs jelly as she approached me. I’m sure she couldn’t ignore the two bodies in the room like I could. When she managed to take the four steps toward me Analise fell to her knees and hugged me, actually hugged me. She buried her face in a part of my fur that wasn't bloody and let out all of the tears that she still had in her. As a wolf I couldn’t hug her back, tell her that everything would be okay, kiss her forehead. The heartbeats of the pair had slowed down to dangerous levels, they would either die soon or be unconscious for a while. There was no risk to detransforming. Yet I couldn’t do it. A process that was so easy when the sun was rising after a full moon was impossible that night. I tried to go to that place in my mind that I did when I normally detransformed, a place in my mind filled with everything that made me human, but it didn’t work.

Analise picked up on my distress, maybe she was finally learning to hear my heartbeat, “Can you transform back.”

She was looking at me in the eyes. They hadn’t changed, they were still a light brown, somehow looking at me finally calmed her down.

I shook my head and whined softly. Even though Analise hadn’t studied wolf language she understood what I meant.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered, “I’ll stay with you until morning.”

Again I whined, but this time in a more reassured way. Though I wasn’t exactly reassured. I had never transformed like this before, what if I couldn’t transform back? What if I had to stay a wolf until the next full moon? 

“It’ll be okay, don’t worry too much.” This time I looked into her dark, dark brown eyes and actually started to relax, “It’ll be okay.”

For the entire night, while the bodies in the room grew colder and their heartbeats grew feeble Analise held me. Blood soaked in and crusted into my fur, a few tears fell from my wolf eyes but I found that I didn’t sink into despair. Just because Analise was there, I didn’t let myself worry.

Thanks for reading guys! I’m really bad at writing romance so I hope that the two girl’s feelings toward each other stood out clearly. If you have any tips leave a comment I guess. I hope you have an amazing weekend. :)

[ressyfaerie]

Fanfic request: Kai/Tysons first kiss and how you think it would go down! (English Dub names please!) :)

This is sooo hard because I have at least 3856859 different AUs of their first kiss aaahhh. I can't decide if I want this one to be angsty, fluffy, or everything in between aaahh! Regardless, I’m going to write something good! Okay I’m done, it ended up being much longer than expected AND i really self-indulged in this one we've got flowers, cars- just I know you’ll like it. 

I’m popping this into a read more after the intro because it's a bit long for the dashboard lol.

“Is there a note?” 

Ray eyed the flowers suspiciously. 

Tyson held the wooden planter box in his arms, “uh- I don’t think so?” 

“Who would send a planter box instead of just cut flowers?” Hilary thought it was the worst kind of romantic gesture. 

“Look!” Max dug his hands into the flowers. 

“What kind of flowers are these Tyson?” Ray asked, eyeing the blue petals with awe. 

“They’re Himalayan blue poppies… They’re not easy to grow.” 

Max pulled out a small slip of paper hidden in the stems. 

“How do you know so much about gardening?” Hilary had no idea when he found the time to pick up a hobby that was so- unlike Tyson. 

“I found my mother's old gardening books! I’ve been taking care of the dojo gardens on the weekends since grandpa’s back is so bad- what does the note say?” 

Max read it out loud, “A unique flower, for a unique person.” 

“Do we recognize the handwriting?” Kenny fixed his glasses, analyzing the situation. 

“It’s been typed.” Max pointed out while flipping the note around for everyone to see. 

Tyson inspected the flowers. He had never seen blue poppies before, they were one of his mother’s favourites. 

“Whoever sent it, they know me well.” Tyson smiled. 

“How come?” Ray asked. 

“I don’t like cut flowers. I feel bad when they die. I like getting flowers that are alive.” 

The room went quiet as everyone racked their brains trying to think of the possibilities. 

“Who would know these things about you? Even we didn’t know you liked flowers!” Hilary pointed the fact out, some of the team members nodded, she had a good point. 

“A lot of people know that I garden… But very few know that my mother really liked these flowers… She wrote about them a lot in her gardening books. To my knowledge, no one’s ever seen them but me, Grandpa, my dad, and maybe Hiro.” 

Ray stroked his chin deep in thought, “It could have been a friendly gift? Not romantic at all?” 

Tyson nodded, it could have been, but it felt- romantic. No one he knew would do something like this, it didn’t make sense. 

“I’ll put them outside, for now, maybe we will think about it later.” Tyson left the room to place them in his corner garden outside. 

The gravel crunched under his feet as he made his way to his small greenspace. He placed the planter with the rest of his stuff. He wondered who would have sent them, but he had no time to think; they had a party to attend at the BBA in less than two hours, and he still hadn’t even started to get ready. 

As expected, the dojo was now in chaos. Like most teenagers, they left everything to the last minute. None of them had experience with formal attire. 

“Does anyone here know how to tie a tie?!” Ray frantically displayed handfuls of ties. 

“I do!” Kenny grasped one of the ties and tried to tie it on himself, before transferring it over to Ray. 

Kenny was much too nervous to tie a proper knot, Ray found himself cringing as their time crunch got shorter and shorter. 

Max had locked himself in the bathroom, probably doing his hair. 

Hilary was god-knows-where, Tyson still wore regular clothes. 

“Where’s Kai? Isn’t he the formal clothes expert?” Tyson fiddled with dragoon while sitting cross-legged in the middle of the dojo. 

“That’s a good idea!” Kenny stopped trying to fiddle with Ray’s tie, “where is he?” 

“Wait, wasn’t he driving some of us?” Mr. D said another driver will come to pick us up…”

“No, I’m certain we're all going in a limo.” 

Tyson started to panic, stuck between trusting Kenny or Ray, now that was a difficult decision. 

Hilary bellowed as she slammed the door open to the dojo. “Tyson! WHY aren’t you changed yet?” 

“I!” 

He started a lame excuse but she raised her voice again, “stop fiddling with that hunk of metal and go upstairs and put on your clothes right now!” 

“Who died and made you boss of BBA formal parties?” 

“I’m literally the party planner.” She rolled her eyes. 

“Fine!” Tyson got up and dusted off his pants, “but I’m going to complain the whole time, and I’m taking a shower!” 

“You don’t have time for a shower!” she slapped a hand to her forehead in exasperation. 

“Too bad.” Tyson stuck his tongue out at her. 

Upstairs, he took his time getting into the shower, it was fine if they were late for the party anyway, they didn’t have to be there on time. 

He washed his body, got out, brushed his teeth, combed his hair, and blow-dried it. He even put on some make-up so he could feel extra fancy. He tied his hair up, admiring himself in the mirror, he looked so grown up now. His hair was long, and he loved tying it up traditionally. He ran a hand through his blue hair. He winked at himself, knowing he looked hot. 

He opened the door with just a towel wrapped around his waist, he left clothes on his bed he was going to wear. Beside his clothes, sitting on his bed was his silver-haired best friend and rival, dressed in a well-fitted Italian cut suit. 

Kai looked him up and down, “you should have been ready by now.” 

Tyson’s cheeks blushed, “why are you alone in my room?” 

Kai patted the dress shirt he left on his bed, “apparently Tyson Granger can’t dress himself- is this what you picked out?” 

“Yeah? What’s wrong with it?” 

Kai grinned, “Are you sure?” 

Tyson made sure to show he was offended, “it’s the nicest thing I own…” 

“I figured you’d say that.” Kai rose from the bed towards a hook on the door. He reached for a black garment bag that wasn’t there before. 

Tyson wondered where it came from, and when- did Kai just bring it? For him?

He placed it on the bed, undoing the zipper on the fancy black bag, “change into this.” 

“If it doesn’t look hot- I’m boycotting you.” 

Kai chuckled, “how do you boycott a whole person?” 

“It better look good on me, or you’ll find out.” 

Kai stood still, Tyson mumbled, “can you- can you turn around so I can change?”

“Oh, right- Yeah.” 

Kai walked towards the window and directed his attention outside, trying to ignore the fact Tyson was a towel away from being completely naked behind him. 

He heard the rustling of clothes behind him, and Tyson’s voice, “is everyone ready downstairs?” 

“They’ve already left in the limo Tyson.” 

“Limo!? You mean I could be in a limo right now?!” 

“You weren’t ready in time, so now you have to go with me, you’re lucky I stayed behind.” 

“Not like you aren’t usually fashionably late Kai. You can turn around now.” 

Kai flung his body around, hopefully, he didn’t seem too eager to see Tyson in a suit. 

Tyson was awkwardly fiddling with his cuffs, he had no tie on, and his buttons weren’t done right. 

Kai sighed, “Here.” He grabbed one of Tyson’s arms and started to straighten his cuffs, “Can you do your tie?” 

Tyson felt his face flush in embarrassment. Kai fixing his clothes was, in his eyes, the opposite of manly. 

“I uh,” Tyson didn’t want to admit it, “don’t know how to do it.” He said in a hushed voice.

“What was that?” Kai finished with his other arm and moved on to his buttons. 

“I don’t know how to tie a tie okay!?” Tyson avoided eye contact. 

Tyson had realized catching Kai's smile was becoming more common. 

Kai gave him one of those grins now, “it’s okay, I’ll do it for you.” 

“Can you teach me? I want to do it myself…” 

“No time, I can show you later though.” Kai reached into the black bag and pulled out a dark blue tie, it was soft with elegant subtle swirls on it. 

Tyson’s eyes widened in awe, he had never seen anything so fancy, and he was expected to wear it?!

“Where did you get this suit from?” Tyson asked as Kai adjusted his collar on his shirt. 

“Mr. Dickenson asked me to get you some nice clothes. I picked it out, I thought it would look good on you.”

Tyson felt an electric shock as Kai reached around his neck placing the tie on either side of him. 

“It was expensive.” Kai’s eyes met his, Tyson tried to keep his mouth closed, “don’t get food on it.” Kai threatened him. 

“I won’t!” Tyson’s voice squeaked. 

Kai worked on the tie while biting the insides of his cheeks, he had to refrain from touching Tyson’s chest, he compromised by running his knuckle along his pec while pulling the tie tighter. 

The delicate touch was not missed by Tyson, who felt a burning sensation flow up his spine. 

“There.” Kai stepped away when he was done with the tie. 

Tyson turned to a full length mirror he had on another side of the room. His eyes glowed when he got a look at himself, “Woah! Kai!” 

He did a twirl for the mirror, “Kai you made a good choice, this does look good on me!” 

Kai placed a hand in his pocket, “I told you.” 

It suddenly occurred to Tyson, he had never been in Kai’s car. He knew it was nice, He knew it was a supercharged sports car, but that was about it. Kai was particular who he let look at it, and now, he was letting Tyson sit passenger. Tyson stared at the white car in awe, he didn’t know much about cars, but it was obvious it was a big deal. 

Kai opened the passenger door for him, “are you getting in or are you going to stand there all night?” 

Tyson shook his head, “y-yeah! What kind of car did you say this was again?” 

“I don’t think you’ve ever asked, it’s an Aston Martin Superleggera.” 

“Sounds fancy,” Tyson remarked while climbing into it.

Kai leaned towards him before closing the door, “it is- put on your seatbelt.” 

The first thing Tyson noticed, Kai didn’t drive like someone in their late teens, he drove like an old man.

“For someone who’s incredibly late- you sure aren’t going anywhere fast.” 

Kai had one hand on the steering wheel, “you want me to go faster?” he blinked in surprise.

“Well, you have a turbo-charged sports car.” Tyson grinned, “send it.” 

“I didn’t know you were into fast cars?” Kai remarked. 

“Hell yeah, I am.” 

“Hold on.” 

Luckily there weren’t many cars on this road. 

Was it illegal? Don’t tell anyone.

Did Tyson realize that Kai shared the same adrenaline habits he did? Absolutely. 

They drove fast, Kai made turns expertly, Tyson laughed and cheered. 

Slowing down his pace, Tyson could feel his heart racing, “that was awesome.” 

Kai gifted him another one of his rare smiles, the kind that was becoming more frequent. 

The party venue felt a little monotone, maybe it was in comparison to the adrenaline rush they just had. 

“Holy!?- Tyson?” Max rushed over to him with a glass of juice in his hand, “there’s no way that’s you in that suit?” 

“Sure is,” Tyson’s face screamed happiness. 

Walking into the main hall, Tyson recognized everyone from his past tournaments, his old rivals, friends, everyone was excited to see him. 

Tyson became swarmed with people greeting him, Kai excused himself, to hide away in the corner. 

“What’s going on?” to his right side, Ray. 

“Not much, you?” 

Ray handed him a glass, probably juice, he took it. 

“Just finished saying hi to everyone, are you going to make the rounds?” Ray knew it was a  stupid question. 

“I’ll talk to whoever talks to me first.” Kai took a small sip of the glass. 

“Are you dancing tonight?” another stupid question from Ray.

Kai gave him an obvious expression, “you think I would?” 

He didn’t say no; Ray took the opportunity to squeeze humanity out of Kai, “out of everyone here, who would you dance with?” 

Kai surveyed the room, it caught Ray by surprise, he was actually thinking about it. 

“Probably Tyson-” Kai needed to think of a good excuse fast- “because I’m more familiar with him than anyone else.” He took a sip of his juice. 

“So then dance with him? You know everyone probably will by the end of the night.” 

Kai chuckled with his mouth in his glass, it fogged up slightly, “no, that would be weird.” 

 “I’ll ask him first if that makes you more comfortable.”

Kai shrugged in response. Ray patted his shoulder, placing down his empty glass on a nearby table, and he made his way towards Tyson who was already dancing in the middle of the room. 

Towards the other side of the room, Kai saw Mr. Dickenson in the corner of his eye, waving for him to come over to the group he was with. Kai rolled his eyes, he saw Hiro over there too. 

Reluctantly, he made his way over, he wasn't going to ignore Mr. Dickenson. 

The group had formed a circle, Miriah was there, Emily, Judy, and Michael. 

Kai gave everyone a friendly greeting, then they started making casual conversation, then it got down to business. Kai waved his hand in the air, “I’m not here to talk about the Hiwatari company tonight.” 

Hiro gave him an angry expression, but Mr. Dickeson understood, and so did Judy, they all kept making casual conversation. 

“Hey, weird question guys.” Miriah held up a pink phone with a picture on it.

Emily pointed to the screen, “Do you guys know what kind of flowers these are?” 

They piled around it, Max showed up behind them to check out the picture as well. Kai and Hiro saw the screen simultaneously, in unison they responded: 

“Himalayan blue poppies.” 

Hiro and Kai locked eyes immediately. Instantly ready to square up. 

“How do you know that?” Hiro’s voice had a hint of anger. 

“I’m not allowed to know a type of flower?” Kai spat back. 

Miriah squeezed herself in between them, “Calm down! Tyson got sent some- we don’t know who sent them.” 

“They’re my mom's favourite flower.” 

Max watched the situation, he stared at Kai, “no way…” he said under his breath.

The blond-haired boy grasped Kai’s arm, pulling him out of the group, far away from the angry brother. 

“Thanks, Max.” Kai was glad he managed to sneak him away without anyone noticing. 

“No problem dude.” Max smiled. 

Ray appeared beside them, with a worn-out Tyson by his side. 

“Kai, your turn!” He shoved Tyson into Kai. 

Tyson wasn’t expecting it, stabilizing himself by holding on to Kai’s shoulders, “Ray!” 

“Sorry!” 

Kai unconsciously helped Tyson keep his balance… by holding him by his waist. 

Tyson pulled himself away, Kai’s hands glided along his waist. 

“Apparently… You wanted to dance with me?” Tyson gave Kai an expression he couldn’t read. 

“I didn’t want to- I mean- if you want to?” Kai’s face turned a shade pinker. 

“Sure- I mean, if you want to?” Tyson swallowed, but his throat stayed dry. 

“Just go!” Ray pushed them towards the dance floor. 

Max yelled to Ray, “Ray! I have to tell you something…” 

In the middle of the dance floor, the duo had no idea what to do. 

“Um-” Tyson awkwardly placed his arms around Kai’s neck. 

“Isn’t that the female way..” Kai remarked

“Shut up!” Tyson felt awkward for some reason, even though before this, he danced with a dozen boys- and girls. 

Kai placed his hands on his hips, wondering how he ever ended up here. 

“Here…” Kai grasped one of his hands, keeping one hand on his waist. 

Tyson’s hand that wasn’t wrapped in Kais, was placed on his shoulder, he slowly let it slide towards his neck, playing with the loose strands of hair, focused on the way it shimmered in the lights. 

“How do you know how to dance?” 

“Rich boy.” 

“Really?” Tyson laughed, imagining a young Kai learning ballroom dance. 

“I can also play some piano.” 

“Wow, what else can you do rich boy?” Tyson titled his head, unconsciously teasing him. 

“Some violin, calligraphy in English, Ballroom dance, paperwork…” 

“I’m surprised you’re telling me this.” Tyson admired his face up close, when did he get such a cute face? 

Kai held Tyson closer, his face centimeters away from his, “if you tell, no one will believe you.” 

Tyson let out a hard laugh. People in the room began to stare, but they didn’t notice, they were lost in their own little world. 

Kai felt sweat form in between Tyson’s palm and his, but he didn’t care. He watched his blue hair sway, and his lips curve into smiles, he blinked suddenly, becoming aware of the way he was looking at him. 

Kai let go of Tyson, taking a step away from him, “sorry- I’m going to get some air.” 

Kai disappeared into another room, leaving Tyson flustered on the dance floor. 

Outside Kai closed the metal door behind him, he held the railing of the balcony. “What am I doing?” he whispered to nobody. 

“Sending him flowers, driving him around, dancing with him- Why can’t I just-” 

He heard the door open and close behind him, “Are you alright Kai? You left so fast…” 

Hearing Tyson’s voice was liquid ecstasy. He closed his eyes, absorbing it, before finding the courage to turn around. 

“I’m fine.” He gave Tyson a grin, but Tyson saw through it. 

“You’re all in your head,” Tyson remarked and stepped closer to him. 

Kai had his back to the railing, he couldn’t run away anymore.

Tyson was too close, he looked in Kai’s eyes, deep into his mind, looking for any sign that something was off. 

Tyson lifted his hand, and rested it on his cheek, “what’s going on with you?” 

Kai felt his whole body melt, pure happiness, absolute comfort. At the next words, he felt like he could float away-

“You know you can tell me anything right?” 

Kai felt his lungs stop working, no air, his brain fired electrical impulses at lightning speed but no thoughts were being created.

“Did you send the flowers?” Tyson kept his hand on Kai’s cheek. 

“Y- yeah,” Kai admitted, still not breathing. 

“How did you know about them?” 

“You leave your mothers journals everywhere-” 

“And you read them?!” 

“No- Well, yes. But I wasn’t reading her writing, I was reading your notes on the sides.” 

Tyson remembered a sticky note he put on a page, mentioning where he could get seeds for his mother's favourite flowers, that he so desperately wanted. 

 “Why?” Tyson’s voice was serious but so calming. 

Kai closed his eyes momentarily, then opened them.

“I think I like you.” 

Neither one of them dared to move. 

Silence, for minutes, as Tyson’s hand stayed on Kai’s face, growing colder by the minute. 

“I’m sorry- it was weird, I shouldn’t have said anything.” Kai tried to turn his face away from him, trying to brush off the encounter. 

“No!” Tyson used his hand to push Kai back to his original position. 

Kai’s face grew red, Tyson’s did too.

“I! I think that-” Tyson blubbered trying to find the right words, Kai gripped the railing behind him. 

“Ah- screw it-” Tyson’s eyes were damp, he stared at the sky before taking a deep breath.

“Ty!-” 

Tyson’s lips were pressed against his. He didn’t know what to do- he had wished for it for so long- and now, all of the sudden? 

“Mm!” Tyson made some noise as he kept doing it, messy, but fun. 

Kai used his hands to run through Tyson’s hair from the back of his neck, grabbing the back of his head and a handful of hair, pulling him closer.

Their bodies were against each other, they could feel each other’s hearts trying to leap out of their chests. 

Kai tried to pull away, to get some air- Tyson grabbed his tie and pulled him back into him, making out with him more. 

Finally, Tyson let Kai go, he was still chocolate he was told not to have, and he wanted more.

“What- I, Tyson?” Kai stumbled over his words. 

 “It’s alright Kai.” Tyson gave him a quick kiss on his soft lips, “it’s okay.”

[goodomensblog]

Afterward - Part 17

A Good Omens Choose Your Own Adventure Fic

Here’s how it works:

I’ll write a scene.

At the end of each scene, you’ll be presented with 2-3 options for what the characters will choose to do next.

Comment or reblog to vote for your choice. I’ll count all votes after the first 24 hours after each update is posted.

Read: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14, part 15, part 16

(#2 definitely won - but #4 was a pretty close second, so we’re doing the classic punch and run!)

Afterward - - - Part 17

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

Entropy, rising up, tilts its head and smiles a wide, infinitely deep grin. Pale, ephemeral tendrils squirm where the creature’s head and neck are rapidly reconnecting.

Gabriel has picked up the sword and is twisting it up.

Beelzebub, however, beats him to the punch. Literally.

“Mine,” is all Beelzebub manages, a low, rasping shout. Pushing roughly in front of the archangel, Beelzebub winds a bloodied fist back and strikes.

Their knuckles smack between its eyes - and with a wet sounding squelch, the head which hadn’t yet fully re-attached, flies off Entropy’s shoulders.

This time, however, Entropy seems to retain consciousness, and the head screeches in outrage as it careens across the room.

“Shoo, bitch,” Beelzebub spits.

“My angels,” the head shrieks, rolling across the floor. “Your master commands you! Attack!”

From the top of the courtyard, where tiled roofs curve above stone carved archways, movement draws Beelzebub’s gaze up.

Angels line the tile rooftop, their formidable white wings spread wide. In the place where the angels’ eyes should be, dark, sunken pools hauntingly stare.

From behind Beelzebub, Gabriel makes a low noise of distress.

Beelzebub scans the faces. There are none they readily recognize - Michael and Uriel, at least, are absent. But surely most of the dark eyed angels are - or were - under Gabriel’s command.

“No…” the archangel breathes.

Forcibly ignoring the pain they feel radiating off Gabriel in cold, nauseating waves, Beelzebub shakes their head and, squeezing their hands into fists, cracks their knuckles one by one.

“What are they?” Aziraphale asks, horror lacing his words.

The first angel steps from the rooftop. Where it lands, stone splinters around its feet. From its eyes, black ichor drips, trailing like tears down its pure, celestial skin. It takes a second step, and the floor cracks anew.

“That,” Crowley says, speaking up from the back, “looks like an angel on steroids. Bloody evil steroids.”

Another angel drops. Then another. Gray dust from pulverized stone rises in an ominous cloud.

“I - I have to-” Gabriel is muttering, and Beelzebub can feel him moving behind them, probably making up his mind to do something stupid.

“Yeah,” Beelzebub says, surveying the hoard of freaky angels. “Fuck this noise.”

Turning right the hell around, Beelzebub grabs Gabriel roughly by the arm. 

When he doesn’t move - like the absolute asshole he is - Beelzebub grits their teeth and yanks, violently hauling the lead-limbed archangel with them. When they look up and see that Aziraphale and Crowley are still standing there, waiting, they yell, “Oi! Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum! Fucking move!”

Crowley and Aziraphale retreat through the doorway, but go no further.

Beelzebub is panting, blood from a cut they didn’t even realize they had dripping into their eyes, and the room is tilting as a frankly annoying whine picks up in their ears - but this is no time to pass out, so Beelzebub doesn’t. 

At least Gabriel is finally moving; Beelzebub, all too happy to release him, shoves the archangel through the door. 

Upon crossing the threshold, Beelzebub is hastily elbowed out of the way by Crowley; Aziraphale, bracing a hand on the wall, traces glowing symbols on the floor.

“What’s-”

“That’s why we were waiting,” Crowley snaps.

Beelzebub reflects that if the room were spinning any less, they would have happily smacked that smug look off his face.

Instead, they crouch, bracing their hands on their knees.

Aziraphale straightens up with a satisfied nod. “That’ll do the trick.”

Then Crowley is swinging the door closed. Hand on the handle, he melts the lock. 

“If Aziraphale did what I think he did, we do not want to be here when they cross that threshold,” Crowley says.

“I did,” Aziraphale says with a grim smile.

Gabriel, who Beelzebub thinks is looking more like his usual insufferable self by the minute, claps his hands together. “Then let’s fucking go!”

“Right!” Crowley crows, pointing at Gabriel, “Your illicit sneaking out of Heaven door!”

Beelzebub and Aziraphale turn to look at Gabriel.

“Okay it’s really not as weird as he’s making it sound.”

 “It doesn’t matter-” Aziraphale says with a wave, but Beelzebub isn’t listening.

Blinking rapidly, they frown at the black dots blossoming across their vision. They immediately blink harder because they are not going to pass out; It is a fucking bad time for losing consciousness - and besides, they’d honestly rather die than look weak in front of these morons.

Crowley is turning, leading the way, and Beelzebub starts to step after him - when everything takes a sharp and sudden dip. 

And shit - Beelzebub thinks, consciousness slipping as a roaring white noise fills their ears. Blackness is spreading, sweeping across their vision.

They see outstretched, reaching hands - and then darkness swallows them whole.

Reality narrows to individual, isolated moments.

The press of fine, soft as silk fabric against their cheek.

A long hallway lit by a single flickering light.

Aziraphale, pale with purple bruises beneath his eyes, pulling a tapestry aside - pushing a doorway open.

Crowley’s hands cupped around that strange, blue flame.

Then white light - at the end of a long, dark tunnel.

Beelzebub stiffens, crying out in protest - because they know the saying about light and tunnels, and they straight up refuse to let that prick Death lay those frigid hands on them now.

This is followed by the soft, hesitant brush of fingers over their forehead and a whisper-soft murmur. “Don’t worry. It’s not that kind of tunnel.”

Again, darkness.

And then Crowley is exclaiming, shouting excitedly, and Beelzebub squints their eyes open to glaring sunlight - and a sleek black car, parked on what appears to be a random London street corner. 

When someone swings one of the rear doors open, Beelzebub has a sense of deja vu as they are laid down on black leather seats.

Voices drone, someone shifts beside them, and the car awakens with a reassuring purr; Beelzebub’s tired eyes close.

- - - 

Brushing his hands over the steering wheel, Crowley sits in the Bentley, taking a moment to enjoy the car’s energetic rumble. She doesn’t handle long periods of idleness very well. And though Crowley hasn’t been gone all that long, he imagines it must have been rather demoralizing to have been abandoned on a lonesome countryside road. He’ll have to make sure she’s still in working shape. 

“Just cause I gave you a little vacation,” Crowley says, tapping the dashboard admonishingly, “is no excuse for any slacking off, you understand?”

The car rumbles, and Crowley sighs, rolling his eyes. “See? I leave you for half a day and now I’m getting back talk.”

“Can we please just fucking go?” Gabriel snaps.

A glance in the rear-view mirror reveals the altogether unpleasant sight of Gabriel’s frowning face. 

The archangel is pressed up against the door, his large arms folded impractically in front of him. 

Beelzebub, in the few minutes after they’d been set down, had somehow completely rotated, and now they stretch out, arms flung out in either direction. Their booted feet are kicked up - one jabbing Gabriel’s side and the other shoved up against his face.

The archangel glowers.

From the passenger seat, Aziraphale clears his throat.

Crowley’s attention is immediately diverted.

Aziraphale is battered. Deep scratches scatter over the entirety of his person, and a bone deep exhaustion shows in his overall pallor and the bags like dark bruises gathering beneath his light eyes. 

Crowley has the impulse to stroke a thumb beneath that gentle gaze and burn a miracle to soothe some of the exhaustion marring his skin. 

He doesn’t.

Because he filled Aziraphale’s veins with demon blood, and Crowley isn’t entirely sure Aziraphale won’t come to resent him for it. 

The desperate transfusion had worked. Aziraphale is here. That is what matters. But the fact that the cost of this gamble - the cost of mixing that which was never meant to join - has yet to reveal itself, leaves Crowley deeply on edge. 

“Dear,” Aziraphale says, mercifully interrupting Crowley’s rapidly spiraling thoughts. “We fled the bookshop earlier because we believed we were dealing with a threat who knew us, personally. Entropy does not know us. And I presume that it does not know where I live.”

“...you want to go home, don’t you?”

“Yes I want to go home!” Aziraphale says in a rush, hands folded, his fingers twisting together. “It’s been a really long day.”

Crowley considers, drumming his fingers on the wheel. “I suppose we could ward the hell out of it.”

Aziraphale is eagerly nodding, “I already have a good few around the foundation as it is.”

“Is it defensible?” Gabriel asks.

“Better,” Aziraphale replies. “It’s hidden.”

“Though adding a few defenses wouldn’t hurt,” Crowley adds.

“As long as we get off the damned street,” Gabriel says with a weary sigh.

“That, we can do,” Crowley says, shifting the car into drive. 

“Wait!” Aziraphale says, grabbing Crowley’s arm. “First, we need food, Crowley.”

“....right this second?”

“As soon as possible. You do realize that we should avoid using powerful miracles at the moment, right?”

Crowley glances in the rear-view mirror, only somewhat mollified to see that Gabriel is also staring at Aziraphale with an expression of blatant confusion.

“Er - yes? I mean, we don’t want to go around putting beacons on our heads,” Crowley replies. “But what in the world does this have to do with food?”

Aziraphale is staring at him like he might be stupid - which he’s not. Right?

Crowley checks the rear-view mirror again.

Gabriel is squinting at Aziraphale. “Aziraphale. What are you talking about?”

Aziraphale looks between them, mouth agape.

From the backseat, Beelzebub groans. 

“Angel,” Beelzebub says, cracking an eye reluctantly open, “They’re both idiots. Don’t… strain their brains.”

Aziraphale glances back, relief evident. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“Of course I know what you’re talking about!” Beelzebub replies, and the other eye opens to a menacing slit. “Food strengthens your bloody corporation. You. Are. Living. In. It. So fucking feed it. The stronger your corporation is - the stronger you are.”

Aziraphale is nodding vigorously. “And we are all very injured. Beelzebub especially. A good meal will help kick start our angelic - and demonic - healing.”

“Ah,” is all Crowley manages.

“Honestly, dear. You really didn’t know that?”

Crowley, who will frankly never admit that he played hookie during the body orientation seminar to check out the strange angel he’d seen walking up on Eden’s wall, adjusts his glasses and shrugs. “I’m a demon. What’s the archangel’s excuse?”

“Corporeal bodies are not my department.”

Beelzebub blows a raspberry.

“Since you’re awake, your highness - mind moving your foot out of my face?”

Beelzebub’s only reply is a long, deep snore.

Crowley shuts both of them up by jerking the car into motion.

Food it is!” Crowley says, foot sinking satisfyingly down on the gas pedal. “And I know just where to take us.”

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

The angels and demons have managed to escape Heaven and flee from Entropy. Before holing up at Aziraphale’s bookshop and deciding their next move - Aziraphale insists they get something to eat. Crowley decides the best place to get a couple of angels and demons lunch is….

The grocery store! Crowded around a single cart, they will shuffle round the aisles of the local grocery mart, exploring the strange wonders of fluorescent illuminated human cuisine. 

The Ritz! Sitting elbow to elbow around a pristine white tablecloth, they will be sipping at champagne and making awkward small talk. Probably nothing will catch fire.

The drive thru! Packed in the Bentley, Crowley will drive them all to the greasiest of fast food establishments. With all three speaking at once, Crowley will attempt to order.

Please comment or reblog to vote! :)

Part 18

[kassies-take]

A Page From Maggie’s Book

Can you do a Maggie Sawyer x best friend reader badass team up where reader is new to superhero work and decides to go on a ride along with Maggie to see how police handle threats or something? 

@healthtobination

A/n: Sorry it’s taken awhile for me to do this

Warning: Rape, violence

Maggie Sawyer x BestFriend!Reader 

Word Count:  1747

“Do I get a gun?” you asked after putting on bullet proof gear. 

Maggie scoffed, “you think I am going to give you a gun? That’s funny.” 

“It was worth a try,” you shrugged. 

“You don’t need a gun when you’ve got force fields.” 

“Are we going to stop a robbery? Car chase? Ooh a...”

Maggie chuckled. “You’re cute, I’m a detective officer not a patrol officer.”

“So what do you do?”

“First off, you don’t need this.” Maggie gestured to the bullet proof vest. “till necessary. Second detectives don’t have your typical police cars, we’re stealthy, we find information. Our ride is unmarked cars.”

“What information do you find?” You asked leaning against Maggie’s desk

“We find anything and everything about suspects, their high school, the clubs they join, the name of their family pet, their sister’s name, parents name, job, friends. Everything.”

“So what do we do now.”

“Research.”

You tapped a pen on your knee continuously. The constants ticks made Maggie look at you with a raised eyebrow. She rolled closer to the right side of her desk, took out a key and opened the bottom cabinet. The detective pulled out a thick beige folder and handed it to you.

“What is this?”

“Victims.”

“Victims? Of?”

“Look through them.”

The file revealed multiple women with rape at the bottom.

“All of these women were rapped?” You flipped though several pages.

“You’ve worked with Alex and Kara before, they both go way to fast into action. Punching their way into things. We go the whole way, we want the man responsible to rot in hell. We find evidence and we don’t hold back and we do it for them.”

“Kara and Alex catch the guy. Kara’s a reporter so she has to get evidence.”

“Most of the time, Alex or Kara catch the guys but they get away from lack of evidence. Little Danvers may have evidence but she does not get to control the jury, or how the other side uses the evidence.”

“Sawyer, come have a look at this.”

You followed Maggie down the hall. The other officer played a footage. A view over the city.

“Real-estate, so what.”

“Wait,” The camera flew closer towards a window. Past the window was a girl changing.

“This is disgusting,” you glared at the screen.

“We’ve got a peeping Tom,” Maggie crossed her arms.

“It gets worse,” the screen cut to a bed room corner showcasing the whole master bed room.

A blond millennial woman in a pink shirt and grey sweatpants, walked from what was assumed the bathroom towards the bed. Seconds later a man in a mask pushed her onto the bed. There was obvious signs of struggling from the girl. You turned away as the man ripped open her sweatpants and began thrusting into the woman.

“He’s not a peeping Tom, he’s a serial rapist.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sat in Maggie’s passenger seat blankly staring at the the dashboard.

“Feet off the dash!” Maggie was as equally as pissed as your were.

“He clearly is the one in the video! Why can’t we use that?”

“We know it’s him, but for all we know it could be a man in a mask.”

“Ugh!!!!” You kicked at dash board. “You know what makes this more frustrating!”

“You kicking my car?”

“No, it’s that parents are more afraid of their kids being gay than they are of their kids being rapist or sex offenders.”

“At least your parents didn’t kick you out of the house.”

“You’ve got a point.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It has been a few days since you and Maggie saw those tapes. You were currently twirling your pen going over notes Maggie took home. You had refused to play any games, even when the rest of Superfriends told you it would be a good way to destress.

“Everything is a dead end right now.” Maggie sighed, explaing to Superfriends about the case.

“Did you guys talk to any of the victims?”

“Yeah we did, one of the ladies said he took her necklace.”

“Did he take anything else from them. You know beside this whole thing?”

“We’re looking through it now. We did find that he went to this coffee shop frequently.” Maggie responded.

“Any of the victims connect there?”

“No nothing. I’m gonna check it out tomorrow see if any of the employees notice him or look through cameras if they have any.”

“Bring me along?”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“I know this case is important but can we get on with the game?” Alex frowned.

You opened your mouth to say something but Alex stopped you before you could.

“I’m not being insensitive (n/n). I’m very annoyed and as pissed as you are. But the point of tonight was to get your mind off this and have a mental break.” She picked up the dice.

“Lena’s on her IPad going through projects, and Kara is writing an article.” You pointed your thumbs to the side.

Nia peeked over Kara’s shoulder. “Actually they’re sexting each other.” She sipped her wine.

“What now?” You peeked at Lena’s IPad.

“Little Danvers,” Maggie smirked.

“What! Let me have a moment with my girlfriend.”

“That moment better be CONSENSUAL!” You threw popcorn at Kara.

“Why are you only throwing popcorn at me! Not that I mind.” Kara popped a few piece into her mouth.

“Cause I expected it from Lena and not you.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“The workers say he comes often but doesn’t usually stay.” Maggie sighed.

“The other regulars say he just gets coffee and leaves.” You rested your chin on one hand.

“It’s not a dead end yet we can still check the cameras.”

The black and white video showed the suspect parking his car, walking into the coffee shop and leaving in the opposite direction. After several videos of the same action you and Maggie got up from your seats.

“Where ever he goes it must be in walking distance if he doesn’t take his car.”

“Mags... you know how in shows people rent out a storage unit to hide evidence or dead bodies.”

“Yeah what about it?”

“There’s one across the street.”

“Get ready with your shields.” Maggie pulled out her gun from her holster.

“We’re not calling for backup?”

“By the time backup gets here he could be gone.”

You followed after Maggie. Your heart beated against your chest. Clear honeycomb like patterns surrounded your two hands.

Besides a couple of people and a few boxes the units were sickenly quiet. The two of you reached a corridor with flickering lights. The circuit was either cut or it was done on purpose.

Your hands were shaking at the thought. Fear flashed across your face and the shields began to glitch. Maggie on the other hand pulled out a flashlight and sneaked with it over her gun.

Maggie slowed her steps as one of the units were opened. It was deserted yet filled with a twin bed, a few boxes, a blue bike, what seems to be a beaten teddy bear, water bottles, paper towels all lightened by a desk lamp.

“Dispatch this is 129F40, I’m gonna need back up at Studio Self Storage on Conova and Mar-”

A loud yell and a slam against metal met the officer and dispatchers.

“(Y/n!)”

Maggie joined kicking the man away after he threw a punch at your face. He was not giving you any time to recover and use your shields.

He moved his attention onto Maggie after you struggled to stand from the two head traumas you recieved. Maggie was good but he wrestled the gun out of her hands. He overpowered her and slammed her against another metal door.

Maggie pushed maneuvered her legs up against the wall and pushed him back against the other side. She threw punches.

You got up, crossed your arm on your shoulders and pushed forth a shield to move the man away from Maggie.

~~~~~~~~~~

“All officers and firefighters calling all back up, officer is in distress. Officer 129F40 is in distress.”

Dispatcher said over the radio. Alex immediately looked over at J’onn. “That’s Maggie’s number!”

They heard several grunts, as they immediately recognized Maggie and your voices. They also heard a whooshing sounds knowing that that was you and your shields.

Alex reaches towards her ear to activate the com.

“Kar-“

A gunshot echoed around the room before it went silent.

Kara rushed towards you and Maggie as she reached the self storage. She led the police and found Maggie sitting next to you. Kara rushed over scanning your body for the gunshot wound.

“She’s fine. She has a concussion and a few bad scratches.” Maggie said.

“A few? Her eye is swollen shut and her shoulder is dislocated, don’t forget to mention the other cuts on her face.”

You grinned at Kara. “We got him.”

Kara took a look further down the corridor and found a glaring bloody man with his hands cuffed through the bed frame.

~~~~~~~~~~

You sat on the bed at Luthor Family Children’s Hospital. You got most of the injuries from the first surprise attack. Your arm was in a sling and several bandages on your face. Maggie only had a busted lip.

“I can’t believe you two went in with no back up.” Alex scolded.

“To be fair, they did catch the rapist.” Lena said from one of the chairs. “And without the help of Supergirl.”

“What took you so long anyways Kara?” Alex looked over at her sister.

Kara turned red.

“You weren’t!” You looked between Kara and Lena.

“Well we still proved that National City does need police officers and detectives after all.”

“No we proved that Superfriends is a good team. Half of this duo doesn’t even get paid.” You were still upset. “But Kara could take a page from Maggie’s book, instead of ogling at Lena.”

“Hey!”

[fijiangecko]

Maintaining a New Life

Chapter 3: Into the Murky Waters

previous | next

Read it on AO3 here

A/N: A day late but it’s here!

~~~~~~

“I think after we visit the police and get their files we should head back to my place and sort through everything. If we’re lucky we might be able to visit one or two of the crime scenes before the sun goes down, but it would be best for us to all have the same idea of what’s going on.” You speak while putting your arms through your coat, the cold air hitting your face as the group walks down the streets.

“Sounds like a plan to us.” Nodding, Iwaizumi pipes up and leads the group further along the streets of Yokohama.

The police station is busy as officers pace quickly through the corridors, quietly chatting amongst themselves. Two men stand by a desk, one looking up for a brief moment before nudging the other with sickly green hair. The latter frowns upon seeing your faces, but walks over. 

“Officer Suguru, nice to see you again.” Kuroo speaks, a sly smile spread across his lips when he sees the man. You recognize the officer as well, having worked a handful of cases with him, although he treats everyone at the agency as though they are lesser than.

“Can’t say the same about you.” His voice is stern, almost spiteful while his eyes glaze over the group lined up.

“Alrighty then,” you interject. “We’re just here to pick up the files and maybe ask some quick questions, then we can get out of your hair. Sound good?”

Suguru makes eye contact with you and clicks his tongue. “Follow me.” He turns on his heel and starts to walk off, not bothering to see if you all follow. “ We’ve been covering this case for about a month and a half with absolutely no leads. As soon as we think of something, a piece of info pops up that discredits the entire theory. I told the chief not to bring you weirdos into this but we’re starting to get desperate considering the media still doesn’t know.”

“Figures,” Oikawa pipes up. “Once they know it about this they’re gonna be up your asses.”

“Thanks. Not helpful.” Suguru shoves the handle down on a door and pushes it open with his hip. Inside the doorway is a conference room with one box sat on the long table. “This is what we’ve got so far.”

Iwaizumi walks over and pops the top off. “That’s it?”

“Yeah.” The box isn’t even half full. You assume that most of its contents had already been given to you by Takeda and Ukai. “Again, we called you freaks to help us.” Suguru stands by the door, arms crossed.

“Well, if you don’t mind, we can take these off of your hands and we’ll let you know if we have any questions.” Ever the charmer, Oikawa puts the lid back on top of the box, and slides it off the table and into his arms. Suguru has a displeased look on his face, but doesn’t respond to the banter. “Tell the Chief I said bye!”

The four of you hastily make your way out of the office, away from the prying eyes of countless officers. With a sigh, Kuroo lets his shoulders relax. “I knew from the first step inside that place that they wouldn’t be any fucking help.”

“As soon as I saw Suguru I knew it wasn’t going anywhere.” The thought of the green haired piece of shit makes you mentally gag. “It would be better for us to just get back to my apartment and go over it ourselves.”

With a silent agreement, everyone quickens their pace to the subway.

~

“Water anyone? We can set up in the kitchen, just let me move some shit.” You put down your belongings and take off your shoes before running over to the kitchen to get rid of the stacks of mail on the table.

No one responds to your question as they walk over to the dining area, but Kuroo bumps your hip with his. “I’ll get a pitcher, you go set up the files.” As a thanks, you bump his hip back and start to scatter papers.

“So…” Kuroo sets the pitcher and some glasses down as you speak. “There have been six murders over the past month and a half, each occurring within six to nine days within the last.”

Iwaizumi picks up a glass. “By the looks of it, all of the bodies were found in abandoned sections of the city, or ones that were sectioned off from the public.” He talks over the sound of water being poured. “Some of them are known spots while others the general public wouldn’t have the knowledge of.”

“So it’s most likely someone who either has access to these locations or knows about them,” Kuroo says absentmindedly while looking over a piece of paper.

“Yes, but that doesn’t narrow down the options all that much.” Your arms are folded across your chest as you gaze over the plethora of information spread across your table. “I think it’s safe to say that it wouldn’t be someone from the general public. These murders don’t look like they were random, but none of the pieces here fit.”

“We should set the files up in a general timeline and visit the newest spots first and work our way back. The last one was almost a week ago so there’s no telling when or where our killer is gonna drop a body off next.” Iwa leans over the table and starts to move the stacks, Oikawa following suit.

A few short moments later, each of the files is placed chronologically. “So we’ll stop at the old shipyard first and then head over to the warehouse district. That should be enough time before it gets too dark and then we can go everywhere else tomorrow.” Oikawa points at the locations.

“Sounds like a plan, but we should probably take my car instead of the subway if we wanna get there in time.” You turn to face your apartment and try to find where your keys are.

“We’re taking your car? The one you told me I wasn’t even allowed to look at? Like, that car?” Kuroo’s eyes are wide, but teasing as he pokes his nose in your direction, trying to hide a smile.

“You and Bo were drunk and if you got a scratch on my pride and joy I would’ve killed you both, but yes. We’re taking that car.” You can feel his sarcastic tone from miles away, but you don’t bother to look at him while you rummage through different purses to find your key ring.

“Shotgun!” Oikawa makes his way to the front door and starts to put on his shoes. “The passenger seat is so much more comfy than the back seats.” His body turns partially to Kuroo’s, looking at him to let him in on this little known fact.

“Wait, you guys have been in the car?!” The tallest guy in the room reels back, genuinely shocked at the revelation.

“Yeah… Y/N used to take us out of missions in the suburbs in it.” Iwaizumi proceeds to put on his shoes as well.

“What the hell dude?! Am I the only one who hasn’t been in it?”

“You, Nishinoya, Tanaka and Bokuto.” You whip out the keys from a bag and jingle them in his face. “Everyone else has at least sat in my car.” He pouts, but follows the rest of the group.

The car is easy to spot from the parking lot, the sleek black gloss finish reflecting the sunlight back at the group. From Kuroo’s knowledge of cars, it looks to be an older Chevy Chevelle but with four doors instead of two. “How old is this thing?”

“It’s a 1967 model, I had to have it shipped from the U.S.” You walk to the drivers door and unlock the car. The boys all hop in, taking their respective seats.. The first thing that catches Kuroo’s eye is the modern interior paired with the stick shift in the center of the front seat.

“I can see why you never let me in here, looks expensive.”

“I don’t take her out too often since I’m in the city most of the time, but it’s nice to be driving again. And yes, a good chunk of change was spent on her.” You pat the dashboard and start the engine. “Once again, I will kill you if you get the tiniest scratch on her.” 

~

“This place is still taped up since it wasn’t all that long ago, but we should probably split up so we can get to the warehouses before too long.” The engine rumbles underneath your voice, the car slowly coming to a halt as you park not far away from the scene.

“Iwa-chan and I will check out the actual crime scene, you and Kuroo can check the perimeter to see if they missed anything!” Oikawa hops out of the car and stretches quickly before walking over. You take notice of the fast blue flash that happened when he was stretching, but no one else seemed to have caught it.

The possibility of the Port Mafia appearing put the three of you on high alert, and almost anytime your group was out Oikawa would use his gift to make sure there were no surprises. The three of you had briefly chatted about it at the agency, behind Kuroo’s back. The general consensus was that Oikawa would be the lookout anytime you all went out and that it was his responsibility to let you both know if anything happens. Iwa’s job is to keep track of all of the data and keep separate files that contain anything related to the Port Mafia, such as the patterned blood stains. Your main focus is to keep Kuroo out of the loop. If the mafia is involved in this case, you could only hope that the police call you off of it before things get too involved.

Kuroo takes the lead and starts to walk the perimeter of the shipyard, checking out all the different angles that could have line of sight on the crime scene. “So, what do you make of all of it?”

“What do you mean?” You stuff your hands into your pockets and lean forward to inspect some of the large crates strewn across the concrete.

“I mean the case in general. You are one of the most seasoned detectives the agency has, and I can tell you already have an idea, if not a couple, of what’s going on here.” He puts emphasis on his words by craning his neck to look at you, but his words are sincere as he’s genuinely curious about your opinion.

Pursing your lips, you think for a moment. You don’t want to lie to him necessarily, but telling him exactly what you’re thinking isn’t really an option. “You wouldn’t be wrong, but I don’t want to jump to conclusions and get something in your guys’ heads before I have enough evidence to back it up, y’know?” With your last word, you look into his golden eyes.

“Smart.” His look softens when he sees that you’re telling a truth of sorts. “Then the whole group wouldn’t have to deal with confirmation bias.” His scientist is peaking through. You roll your eyes and walk off to inspect a different area as he chuckles and moves off.

The yard is bleak for the most part, countless variations of cargo and ship parts placed carelessly around. It’s odd, you think, that the body would be in the center of everything. Like it isn’t trying to be hidden. Your pace slows as you come to one of the last places that has visibility on where the body would have been. There’s a large shipping container that blocks some spots; age and the general wear and tear has caused the large piece of metal to rust. Your eyes rake over the orange container, but something catches your attention around the handle.

You crouch down and move in closer. “What’d you find?” Kuroo notices your position and makes his way over.

“Fibers that were caught on the door.” You point to the black material, careful not to touch it. It could’ve been missed easily, blending in with the rusty metal. “I’ll have Kenma run diagnostics on them just in case.” He nods, but turns his attention to the buzzing in his pocket. You walk over to the car and grab some gloves and a bag.

Taking the fabric between your fingers, you gently shimmy it out of its wedged position and place it into the plastic. Kuroo puts his phone back into his pocket. “Oikawa and Iwazumi said that nothing was out of the ordinary at the scene. They’re headed back to the car now.”

“Okay. I think we looked over everything so let’s go.” You hold the bag up and examine it in what sunlights left.

As you and Kuroo approach the vehicle, Oikawa practically shouts. “I’m just saying! If you like this person then you should just come right out and say it! It’s not like you’re ugly!”

“And that’s why you’re a dumbass. No way in hell am I telling them shit,” Iwa huffs and turns away from his partner.

“Why’d you piss him off, Oikawa?” You speak before Tooru can get another word in, tossing the bag at Iwa.

“How dare you! I was trying to be a good friend and help Iwaizumi with his crush but apparently I’m not allowed to be a decent person.” Whining like a child, Oikawa crosses his arms and turns his chin up and away from the group. You and Iwa roll your eyes.

“This happen often?” Kuroo leans in to whisper.

“More than I’d like to think about.” You take off the gloves and pull out the car keys.

“He does know it’s pretty obvious who it is, right?”

“Absolutely not.” You stare at Kuroo and sigh. “Alright, Hajime rides shotgun to the warehouses.”

“But-”

“No,” you cut off Tooru once more. “After that, Kuroo gets to sit there on the way home.” He silently grumbles to himself, settling into the back seat while the rest of you silently get in and listen to the radio.

Slowly coming to a halt, the metal hunk jerks into place as you put her into park. “Same groups?” Kuroo asks, looking between everyone.

“Can I trust you two to not hurt each other and do your jobs?” You look at Oikawa from the rearview mirror, popping a brow up accusingly.

“We got it Y/N.” Hajime breaks off the childish encounter before it can continue and splits off.

The warehouse is large, but filled with nothing. Your footsteps echo in the dark space. The other two in your group keep forward and walk down where police tapes are starting to fall off from their previously tied positions. You stop and take a second to look around, noticing the staircase and balcony on the outer parts of the room.

The metal creaks under yours and Kuroos footsteps. “Do you think he’ll ever say anything to Oikawa?” Kuroo walks up the stairs behind you, unsure of where to look before ultimately deciding to look at the ceiling.

“Honestly, I’m not sure.” You reach the balcony and slow your pace to check everything. “I hope he does. They’re good for each other.” Kuroo can tell you’re being sincere, and he smiles at your statement. All three of you are close and if you think that they’re good for one another, then he decides to take that stance as well.

Following behind you, he checks the wall and floor for anything while you observe the space below and the railing. You can see Tooru and Hajime talking down on the ground level, crouching and standing straight, taking out the photos and finding where each position is.

I hope he says something soon. Tooru can’t take a hint but it’s not like either of them are interested in anyone else right now. You watch them while you walk, a nudge to the shoulder brings you out of your thoughts. “Y/N. Blood stains.” Kuroo points to the railing. Dried splotches of blood are faint on the top bar of the railing, only a few specs and faint from age.

Your face scrunches in thought, impressed that he spotted it. “These weren’t in any of the photos.” He shakes his head in confirmation, and pulls a swab and container out from his pocket.

“Not that it does us all that much good, but at least we can try and get the blood type. See if it matches any of the victims. After the last place, I thought it might be a good idea to bring some equipment with us.” You agree with him by nodding and letting him take the sample.

“We should probably stop by Kenma’s tonight and give him all this stuff since he’s not gonna sleep anyways.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” Placing the swab into the tube, he turns and walks back down to the others.

Oikawa and Iwaizumi are already standing next to the car in silence. You can tell Iwa’s just being petty and Tooru looks like he’s about to burst if he doesn’t talk in the next two seconds. “Ready?” You unlock the doors for everyone and they all hop in without a word.

Rubbing your eyes, the dim lights from the lamp posts light the city streets as you blink harshly to bring some moisture back into your eyelids. While you’re staring at the road, you don’t see Kuroo staring at you from the passenger's seat, admiring how gorgeous you look with the different angles of light hitting your face. He loves how you took charge of this case, and he admires your leadership skills on the field. His chest tightens at the thought. You have been doing this for so long, he thinks to himself, and you deserve the praise.

Tooru glances up from the back seat and notices Kuroo’s current state, and decides to nudge Hajime’s arm to get him to look. Both of them smile at the scene, knowing for quite a while that Kuroo has a thing for you, but they quietly return to their work and let it happen.

The trip to Kenma’s house doesn’t take all that long considering it’s getting fairly late at night. You and Kuroo decide to just go and drop off the evidence quickly, and Oikawa and Iwaizumi can stay in the car and wait.

You knock softly on the door, careful not to be too loud for his neighbors. Within a matter of seconds the door is swung open and Kenma stands in front of you both, wearing his pajamas and bags apparent under his eyes.

“Hey Kenma, sorry to drop in so late.” His face is telling you that you had interrupted something, so you speak as sweetly as possible.

“Don’t worry about it. Kuroo already filled me in; I’ll have it done by morning.” He extends his hands towards you and you place the two bags into them. Kenma holds them up and looks at them. “Shouldn’t be too difficult. I’ll call you when I’m done.” And with that, he shuts his front door and leaves you both outside.

“Okay.” You swallow your saliva and turn back to the car.

“He’s probably been up for a day or two,” Kuroo grumbles.

“It’s okay, that means he’ll most likely pass out soon.” You don’t know Kenma as well as his counterpart, but you still knew of his tendencies.

The engine puts you in a trance for the rest of the way home; the sound puts you at ease and your heart rate slows until you are completely relaxed. You pull into the parking space and sit for a moment, taking in the noise before cutting it off and getting out.

“What’s a good time for everyone? The rest of the crime scenes are spread out all across town so it’s gonna be a lot of driving around.” A yawn finishes your sentence as you lean on your apartment door, looking to the three men.

“How does nine sound? That should give Kenma some time to get back to us and give us enough time to get coffee or whatever.” Kuroo shivers in the night air, shoving hands down into his pants pockets and hunching into himself.

“Sounds good to me.” Iwa pulls his suit jacket on.

“Same here.” Oikawa matches your yawn, but smiles at you.

“Cool. Get home safe guys.” You wave to them and open your apartment, feeling a blast of warmth.

“Night.” They each mumble and head on home.

~

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive Y/N.” Kenma’s voice is tired over the phone, words slurring slightly from over exhaustion. “Neither of the samples matched with any of the victims. The blood’s O negative and the clothing was made out of some kind of cashmere, which no one was wearing when they died.”

“Okay.” You rub your eyes and sigh, frustrated that this was going exactly how you didn’t want it to go. “Thanks Kenma. Go to bed.”

Kuroo, having walked in not that long ago, heard the entire conversation. He places two coffees down on the counter and watches you rub your eyes. “No dice?” You shake your head and let your hand run slowly down your chin. “Well at least we know that the police missed stuff. It’s not exactly what you wanna hear, but it gives us a chance to actually piece this together.” Always looking for the positives, he smiles at you and gently rubs your shoulder.

“I suppose.” You put a hand on top of his, patting it lightly. His thumb continues to rub circles into your shoulder, but the moment is cut short by a knock at the door. As you step away, your heart skips a beat and you take a deep breath. Unbeknownst to you, his heart does the same thing.

“Good morning, Strike Team Alpha!” Oikawa practically screams as he enters the doorway, a big, bright smile across his lips. Hajime walks in behind him and waves.

“Mornin’ boys. Let's get this show on the road, shall we?” You walk back into the kitchen, picking up the coffee.

“Please.” Kuroo clears his throat and grabs his cup.

“Better chug your coffee now. No drinks in the car.” You take a few sips of yours before leaving it on the counter. He deadpans and attempts to drink all of the burning hot coffee, but ends up coughing a majority of it up. You laugh and head outside.

“Where to first?” You pull the seatbelt across your chest and click it into place before looking at your co-pilot, Hajime.

“If we’re following the order, we’re headed to the suburbs. It’ll probably take an hour or so with traffic.” He takes out some papers from a file folder, showing you the address.

“Sounds like a good nap to me!” Oikawa stretches in the back, placing hands behind his head.

“Nuh-uh.” His smile falters. “I’ve got files back there you all need to go over in the meantime.” You point over the seats, down to where his and Kuroo’s feet are.“Plan is to get these first two locations over with before two, then get lunch and finish with the last few locations. Depending on traffic and stops we should get done around nine or ten.”

“You think it’s gonna take that long?” Kuroo takes some papers into his hand, glancing up at you through the rearview mirror.

“Unfortunately. It’s a weekday, which means traffic is going to be hell and these places don’t have the police on them anymore, so we have to call ahead of time and get clearance before going.” You twist the keys and the engine roars, warming up for a long day of work.

~

The morning passes pretty quickly. The owners of the two locations cooperated with no complaints and let you inspect as much as you like. Just as expected, the traffic did hold up some of the progress, but before you knew it, the afternoon had rolled around. You haven't found anything new, and pairing that with the unfortunate news Kenma had given you this morning, your mood is starting to turn sour.

“Alright. One more and no more bathroom stops.” You speak clearly, eyes dead ahead on the road.

“This should be the place near the steel manufacturing site, right?” Kuroo flips through the papers in the back seat, the car now littered with files.

“Yeah, the body was found near the scrap metal. Hajime should’ve already contacted the owners to let them know we’re on our way.” You watch the sun slowly meet the horizon.

“They gave us the gate code and said no workers should be there when we arrive.” He responds at the sound of his name, typing something on his phone. “These are the guys that also gave their security footage to the cops so we don’t have to split up this time.”

Not another word is said while you drive. Oikawa takes the photos, Kuroo looks over the information and Iwa fills in Takeda and Ukai as to what’s happening. You hum softly with the radio and tap your thumb to the beat.

Ever so slowly the sun descends beyond the skyline, leaving the streets to the moonlight. A few more turns and you’re met with a gate and keypad. Hajime tells you the numbers and the large steel construction site was before you. Street lamps light up the parking lot, but on your better judgement you swing the car around the building and park it out of sight. The four of you step out of the car, a cold breeze bringing you out of your tiredness as you lead the group into the building.

“So where was the body found?” Kuroo steps further into the building, looking around at all of the different welding tools.

“Should’ve been right around here based on the photos.” Iwa walks him over in the direction, Oikawa and yourself following suit.

The scene’s been cleaned up weeks ago; no traces of where the body was could be seen but luckily you have the photos to point you in the right direction. 

Oikawa staggers further and further behind, his heart picking up in rate while he turns his ear towards the door. His ability Listener in the Night allows him to hear a bobby pin dropping in a room surrounded in five foot thick steel walls and from far distances if he chooses to listen to that distance. His feet stop, as if waiting for confirmation. Not a second later he rushes over to you. “They’re here.”

The urgency in his voice sets off every alarm in your brain. “Where?”

He motions outside, near where the parking lot is and sends Iwaizumi a look. Knowing without saying a word, Iwa’s jaw tenses and he turns on his heel, spotting a concealed spot from the front entrance. Hastily he moves over and waits for Oikawa to join him.

Seeing the guys make their move, you rush over to Kuroo and grab at his shirt collar, pulling hard. “Y/N! What the hell-”

“Tetsuro. Don’t ask.” You run while he jogs, but the tone of your voice and the use of his first name shuts him up immediately. There’s nothing in the world that would let you loosen your grip on his clothes, and he knows this well. When you take charge, you are a dictator. No questions asked.

Your group of four huddles in the corner, Hajime keeping everyone behind him while Oikawa whispers their location to you all. Suddenly, a familiar voice is heard near the doorway. 

“The cops give up already?” The voice sends chills down yours, Iwaizumis and Oikawas spines. Kuroo keeps his mouth shut and his eyes on you instead of what’s going on. The man's voice is cartoonish, the inflection on each word is overused making it easily recognizable.

The tension is thick enough to cut as the three of you stop breathing all together. Kuroo places a hand on top of yours to try and relax you, but you are completely unaware that he does so, too focused on the crisis at hand.

“Y/N.” You snap your neck up to look at him and shake your head harshly, mouthing the word ‘no’ to him. His eyes hold endless amounts of worry while yours carry panic. In your haze, you didn’t even realize that Iwa and Oikawa had pulled their guns out and are now standing in front of the both of you. Oikawa’s hands shake slightly and Iwa is taking deep, slow breaths.

“That, or they are trying real hard to keep this away from the public.” A second voice emerges, one that is less familiar to you but doesn’t put you at ease. The two men walk further into the complex, their foot falls echoing in the large space.

You feel cornered, like a rabbit in a trap and your throat is starting to close, making it harder to breath. With white knuckles, you pull Kuroo closer and place your forehead on his chest, below your hands and take a deep breath. He panics, never having been in this situation, and looks to the other two men. They aren’t paying attention at all and focus on the voices.

“Either way, Wakatoshi still needs us to pick up some stuff tonight.” That name sparks another wave of chills. You prep your ability, letting the faint blue aura slowly build around your person, Iwaizumi doing the same but letting his ability release as he prepares for the worst..

“Uh… I hope you realize we don’t have the right vehicle to pick up,” the second voice deadpans.

“No, not that.” The footsteps go quiet. A few seconds of silence pass, but it feels like an eternity as the group tries their best to stay as silent as possible. 

“I know you're here, little detectives!” Tendou Satoru’s voice booms over the empty factory, his laughter filling the space shortly after.